#*whispers softly* don’t leave me

[you-are-deceptively-complex]

up next on manic ashley o’clock!!! what if i start writing poems for ships!! first up, batty and alba from leopard skin!!! or, more specifically, batty pov about alba!!!

[maskedbyghost]

arranged marriage with simon. yes i am talking about this again.

simon doesn’t talk much about the marriage at first, but his actions say it all. he insists on carrying your bags, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and making sure you eat enough during missions. you don't ask him why, but it's clear he's claiming the role of protector, even if this was supposed to be temporary.

he won’t admit it, but simon begins to get used to the little domestic routines. you cooking dinner, him taking care of repairs around the house. it feels too natural, and although he never says anything, he’s already mentally putting the two of you into that “forever” category.

the first time you mention needing space or wanting to stay in a separate room, simon just gives you a look. "what do you mean, separate? we’re married." he’s not joking either. to him, this isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore. if you try to argue, he’ll just pull you close and mutter in your ear, "ring’s on your finger. means you’re mine." and that’s the end of the conversation.

he starts doing small things for you that a husband would—restocking your favorite snacks, making sure your gun is cleaned before missions, and slipping extra blankets on your side of the bed when it’s cold.

after some time, he’s not shy about touching you anymore—brushing a hand against your arm, holding you a little too close when you’re out in public. the more time passes, the more his touches become possessive, like he’s reminding you who you belong to now.

simon is up early, always. you’ll wake up to the smell of coffee, and he’ll have a cup ready for you without asking. if you take your time getting out of bed, he’ll mutter, "c’mon, mrs. riley. don’t make me drag you out." but there’s always a smile on his face.

when you share a bed, simon always pulls you into him at night. no matter how much space you take up at first, by morning, you’re wrapped up in his arms. if you stir in your sleep or seem restless, he’ll murmur, "got you, lovie," without fully waking up, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there, keeping you safe.

simon doesn’t open up easily, but after a particularly intense moment, he’ll lean in close, his forehead resting against yours, and he’ll whisper, "don’t care if it was for a mission or not. you’re the only one for me now." it’s not a grand declaration, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart race.

simon will leave subtle marks of possession on you—his dog tags hanging around your neck, his scent clinging to your clothes, and his bite marks on your skin after an especially heated night. "need everyone to know who you belong to," he’ll growl against your skin, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

he also has an odd obsession with your wedding ring. he’ll turn it on your finger, kissing it softly whenever you’re close. if you ever take it off for some reason, his brow furrows, and he’ll slip it back on. "keep it on, yeah?" his voice is low, almost pleading. "means something to me."

after a particularly dangerous mission where you were almost hurt, simon corners you in the hallway, eyes filled with emotion. "you’re not leaving me," he growls, pinning you against the wall. "ever. understand?" it’s a statement, a vow, and in that moment, you know you’re his forever, and he’s yours.

when you’re lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, simon will sometimes whisper, "mine," into your hair. it’s soft, almost inaudible, but you feel it in your bones. he needs the reminder just as much as you do—that you’re his, and he’s never letting you go.

[fairy-angel222]

“𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘”.. 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐈𝐄 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo finds out that you’re baking a pie for some stupid co worker of yours, shows you that he’s the only one deserving

pairing: gojo x fem! reader

content: smut, tit slapping, pussy slapping, degradation, hair pulling, belly bulge, breeding, finger sucking, spit swallowing, mean teasing

When Gojo strolled into the kitchen to find you baking one of your signature cream filled pies he hummed. Pressing up against you with his arms around your waist while placing soft kisses to your neck.

“That smells delicious baby, who’s it for?” He had seen the text from your coworker asking you to bake one for him.

“Oh thanks baby! It’s just for some coworker at work. Been begging me for one of my pies for a while now.” You shrugged. “Hmm.. and would that co worker happen to be the same one who’s been flirting with you for ages?” He whispered when his lips reached your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as you swallowed hard.

—

“Don’t fucking run from it baby, take it all like a good girl.” Gojo growled out, a grin spread across his face as his cock drilled meanly into your cunt. His hand in your hair yanking your head back to look up at him. Blue eyes seemingly darker when he groaned.

“My little slut’s so fucking pretty.” Grinding hard against your ass, a loud mewl escaping your lips when his tip grazed roughly into your gummy spot. “You feel that?” He rolled his hips again, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand pressed against the bottom of your stomach. “Feel me deep in you baby?”

You let out a shaky cry, your body being jerked back and forth with each of the man’s harsh thrusts. His hand pointing out the bulge of his tip against your skin. “Nngh— Satoru.”

“Open that pretty little mouth for me.” Gojo breathed, your back arching deeply as you sniffled. Doing as told and opening your mouth with a whimper, allowing Gojo’s spit to fall onto your tongue with a hum. Two of his slender fingers finding their way into your mouth, resting on the back of your tongue before he was lightly thrusting them down your throat.

“That’s it. That’s the good slut i know.” he smirked, your lips enclosing around the digits as your eyes closed with the shiver of your body.

Your loud moans were muffled as Gojo bullied his fat cock deep into your tightness. Eyes pooling with tears as your stomach burned with heat. Gojo’s hand finding its way to grope at your tits, pinching at your hard nipples making you let out a choked whine.

You yelped when your boyfriend’s large hand landed softly on your breast, mewling messily around his fingers when it landed harder on the other one. Your body trembled as Gojo’s finger trailed down your stomach, stopping at your clit to rub on the sensitive nub. Pulling out a string of moans followed by a cry when he slapped down at your clit.

“Gonna show you a real cream pie baby. Gonna stuff that pussy full of me.” Gojo grunted, one hand remaining on clit while he removed the one in your mouth with a string of salvia still attached. Using it to knead the flesh of your ass, red from the constant slamming of his hips onto it.

“S-satoruu, you’re so mean— ahh,” you mewled when you felt a harsh smack stinging through your skin. Your boyfriend’s hand reaching to your neck as he pulled you close, increasing the speed of his thrusts with a chuckle.

“Hmm, am i? Could’ve decided to leave this pussy wet and needy if i wanted to.” Pressing his chest flush against your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Could’ve left you to go bring you that stupid pie to that stupid boy, baby.” He scoffed in faux offense. “I’m hurt, i’d say i’m quite nice don’t ya think?”

You could only whimper as you felt yourself getting close, pussy clenching around Gojo’s cock when his grip on your neck tightened.

“O-oh, Satoru— ‘m close,” you cried, your eyes rolling back and your legs shaking.

“Thought i was mean huh? Why’re you coming on a mean man’s cock?” he teased, his finger’s movements on your clit speeding up to drive you over the edge.

Cumming hard with the scream of his name, your sopping pussy gushing onto his cock. Gojo groaned deeply, his thrusts noisy as heavy balls slapped against your folds. Basking in the feeling of your perfect pussy before he was bottoming out in you.

“Gonna stuff this pussy nice ‘n full with my cum.” His movements stilling as he pumped ropes after ropes onto your walls. Painting them from red to white with a smile. “Look at that, greedy pussy’s swallowing it all.” Pulling out of you ever so slowly and watching as his cum spilled in tiny spurts as your hole spasmed.

You let out a breath, allowing your body to fall limp into the sheets as you panted. You should have seen that coming.

[tonycries]

Men In Uniform F*ck Better!

Synopsis. You want him and you want him now. It doesn’t matter if you have to fúck him in his uniform - in fact, it just might make it better.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] professor! Gojo x Reader, yakuza boss! Sukuna x Reader, calligrapher! Geto x Reader, baker! Nanami x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, no curses! AU, oral (male + female receiving), men at work, manhandling, marking, slight gúnplay, degradation, smacking, choking, Sukuna is mean but he’s a yakuza boss so, spitting, semi-public, brat-taming, bunch of heinous stuff idek, cúmplay, slight foodplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Was gonna add Choso and Toji but this got too long, dw I’ll make separate ones about them later <3 

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The baker

Watching Nanami Kento at work could make even the most ardent non-believers worship God. 

Kneading. Spreading. Every motion of his strong hands deliberate and purposeful. Muscles rippling in his forearms with each movement. 

You watch - almost hypnotized - as the devilishly handsome baker at your favorite bakery prepares his dough for tomorrow. By God were you glad you managed to bat your lashes just enough to convince him to let you stay after closing - for educational purposes, of course. 

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily as long fingers sink deep into the dough, squeezing. Pulling. Teasing. A delicate bead of sweat trickling down between his furrowed brows and disappearing enticingly between those chiseled collarbones. Oh, how you wished it was you under his hands instead.

“How long’s it gonna take? I see the way you’re watching me, y’know.” 

A low rumble breaks the silence, sending tremors down your spine - all the way to your already-heated cunt. Eyes snapping up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones, your face burns at being caught red-handed. Stammering out excuses, “W-wha- I didn’t-”

Soft dough now forgotten, he steps closer, presence overwhelming, dominating the space around you. “Always do. Watching me with such slutty eyes.” Low words that make your pussy throb. You’re dumbfounded by his eyes, intense and stripping - making you feel so exposed and vulnerable before him. 

In the dimly lit kitchen, the tension is palpable. You can’t help but lean into his presence, standing toe-to-toe with his muscled front. 

With a slight smirk curling his lips, Nanami leans in, his breath warm against your ear and making you shudder in anticipation. “But don’t worry, darling. I like it.” 

They’re the last words said before he pulls you into a searing kiss, a hand tight around your neck, neat fingernails digging into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his tongue demands entry, intertwining with yours. It’s possessive, it’s feral - and tastes oh so very sweet - just like his delicate pastries. 

Nanami breathes you in like a man starved. A desperation that carries into your frantic fingers untying that godforsaken apron. 

And in his steady hands as they lift you up as if you weigh nothing, fingers groping and kneading your ass as he seats you on the kitchen counter. The surface cold under where your skirt was messily bunched up. “Mm- hngh- please, Nanami.”

Pulling away with a final bite to your lower lip, he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down your body that send chills racing through you, and have your thighs rubbing together for an ounce of friction. 

“Tch” Of course, he wasn’t a fan. Grip bruising, manhandling your legs open so shamefully, he splays you out deliciously for him. Nanami’s greedy gaze devours the sinful way your dripping cunt leaks through your thin panties - ones you wore especially for him.

Seems he knew too, pushing his glasses up contemplatively before dropping onto his knees with a fucked out oh. “Always knew you were naughty, darling, but to be such a slut? Driving me crazy, hm?” his voice thick with desire and whispered mere millimeters away from your swollen folds.

Moaning softly, you arch your back into the warm breath hitting your quivering cunt, whining out an embarrassed “Noo- only for you, Nanami.”

“Oh yeah?” Huffing out a dark chuckle, he all but rips off your soaked panties. The tattered fabric stark against the sterile floor. You gasp at the cold air that hits your heated cunt - but not for long, because Nanami’s hot mouth is on it like a man dying of thirst. 

Nose-deep in your pussy, the cold metal of his glasses makes you flinch in sensitivity. His hands spread your cunt bruisingly, letting his tongue bully it’s way past your folds, urgently lapping at your juices as if you were the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted. 

Chin hitting your cunt, nose rubbing against your pulsing clit, he makes out with your sloppy pussy in methodical, merciless movements of his tongue that have you keening and bucking your hips for more more more. 

Looking up at you over his glasses, his hungry gaze devours your half-lidded eyes, the grip searing on his hair, and the whimpers of his name leaving your swollen lips just as greedily as the mouth on your slutty cunt.

“Wanted this right, darling?” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Vibrations making slick bead out of your cunt and pool onto his waiting lips. “Wanted to break under my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes, s’all I’ve wanted.” teary whimpers leave your bruised lips, you craved the sting of his hands, the burn of his fingers. Your hips buck uncontrollably, grinding yourself against his mouth as he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

Hands now groping every inch of skin he could find, leaving pretty purple marks that remind you of his mouth-watering pies.

Exploring every curve and valley, bending you to his will, languid where his tongue was merciless. Savoring you. Groping your breasts, squeezing your ass, as if he wanted everything all at once.

Your entire body was sore now. Cunt throbbing in sympathy with the tender flesh. Marks littering your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. Ah, all these weeks you’d been right - heaven really was in Nanami Kento’s hands. And right now you were putty in them. 

He grasped your thighs, squeezing them roughly and lifting them higher, opening you wider for his unforgiving pace. Clearly enjoying the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure, Kento slipped a finger inside you. One. Then two. Stretching you to your limits. Spreading open your already-stretched entrance further. 

His fingers frantic now, fucked-out, jerky movements. Wilder. Animalistic. Driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Open your mouth.” 

You listen - drunk on his tongue as yours lolls out so lewdly. The taste hits you before the realization - sweet sugar and the taste of you on your tongue as two thick fingers are shoved into your mouth. They reach the back of your throat, pressing hard onto your tongue. You force yourself to fight off the gagging as some animalistic part of you sucks desperately on them for the sweet, sweet taste. 

“Almost as sweet as you.” Nanami groans, words muffled into your cunt and sending white-hot pleasure racing up your spine. Words hanging in the air, he speeds up the movements of his mouth, frantic movements matching your need for more. 

Your climax hits you with a jolt, cumming till you see stars behind your eyes. Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his tongue quirked just right on your throbbing clit to make you throw your head back as you fell apart underneath him. 

“Hngh- Oh fuck, Nanami. M’cum- cumming!” you whine, grinding your cunt down impossibly harder on his pretty face. Fingers tangled in his silky blond locks as you force him deeper, riding out your high greedily.

You’re still dazed - vision blurry as Nanami pulls away from your cunt with a lewd squelch! getting up from his position kneeling on the floor. “So delicious on m’tongue, darling.”

Devastatingly handsome face flushed, breaths ragged, muscled front now pressing against your sinfully spread legs. And in your orgasm-hazed mind you still manage to hear the arousing clink of a belt unbuckling, and the metallic screech against marble of the nearby bowl of your favorite frosting being pulled closer. White - to match the precum dribbling down his leaking cock.

The distinct feeling of something wet and achingly hard against your needy cunt.

Oh. Ah, it really was a sweet, sweet life.

♡ GETO SUGURU - The calligrapher

You didn’t exactly think the live calligraphy show your friend dragged you to was about to have you on the edge of your seat.

But here you were. 

Eyes locked on the way the tall figure onstage, clad in a dark yukata - sinfully slipping off to reveal a milky, toned shoulder. Geto Suguru exudes an air of raw sexuality that the entire audience was aware of, eyes not being able to decide between the masterpiece on the canvas or the masterpiece of a man on stage.

His fingers, long and agile, effortlessly over the bamboo pen. Each stroke a sensual caress, dark eyes pools of desire that match his long, flowing locks, and the inky characters on the page. 

Chest heaving with passion, with a final, dramatic sweep of his arm, Geto completes the last stroke. And as the audience erupts into applause, you merely stay rooted to your seat, thighs pressing together and breath caught in your throat - only one thought ringing in your mind.

You just had to have him.

Which is why you found yourself following your friend to the chaotic atmosphere backstage. But despite the buzz of activity, you could still hear Geto’s deep, velvety voice carrying through the crowd.

Pushing through the sea of people, “Ah! Long time no see, Geto-san. This is my friend, she really enjoyed your performance tonight,” your friend introduced, gesturing towards you.

Eyes gleaming he turns to you, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it very much.” you grin, batting your lashes. Relishing in the way Geto’s dark eyes appraise you from head to toe. Taking in every inch of you - and you do the same.

Geto’s eyes harden, as if deciding on something. “I’m flattered. Why don’t you two lovely ladies join me for some drinks with the crew?”

Yeah, you had to have him - you just didn’t think that would be so easy. 

Walls lined with paintings, the scent of ink and sin hung heavy in the air, as you two snuck away from the animated group downing celebratory shots. Geto’s hand hot in yours as he leads you down a dimly-lit corridor to “his favorite lil’ spot”, as he’d whispered to you. 

You could tell you were getting closer - because Geto promptly pulls you closer, hands grasping your waist possessively. 

“No turning back now, pretty girl.” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. 

“S’all I want, Suguru.” you mutter, desire coursing through you like a wildfire, pooling into something sticky and hot at your cunt. 

Perhaps seeing the pure, feral need in your eyes, Suguru murmurs, leaving no room for disagreement now, “Follow me.”

The room he led you to was heady with seductive candles, beautiful artwork lining the walls. His own - you assume, as Suguru leads you to a low wooden table in the center of the room. On it is a bottle of sake and two cups.

Movements fluid and precise, Suguru pours the sake, filling it to the brim. He hands it to you, eyes never leaving your face. “Drink up, pretty girl.” he hums, low and seductive. And honestly fuck stranger danger, how could you not when he looks at you like that?

So you drink, sake burning its way down your throat. Predatory eyes locked on you as you set down the cup, Suguru’s mouth quirks up into a sly grin around his as he asks, “Liked it?”

You’ve barely gotten out the nod - not trusting yourself to speak - before Suguru downs his shot abruptly, slamming down the cup with a thunk! 

Lips parting slightly, slender fingers squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrasing pout. Forcing you to look up at him with an almost predatory grace as he looms closer. You don’t know if you should’ve expected the steady, warm stream of sake and saliva that hits your tongue. Sliding so obscenely down your throat. 

Guess Suguru Geto was filthy in bed where he was the embodiment of grace in public. 

It’s sweet on your tongue - both the sake and Suguru.

Eyes glassy, a mixture of sake and drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth - Suguru really can’t help the lips that come crashing down on yours, tongue plunging deep into your mouth. His tongue was relentless, keeping yours intertwined in a heady kiss. 

Arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to his heated body. Hands tugging on your hair, mapping your curves. All the way up to cup your breasts, thumbs running tight, little circles around your perked nipples.

You moan into the heated kiss as something rock-hard pokes your thigh. Hand greedily grabbing at his yukata with the need for more. 

Breaking the kiss, Suguru’s breaths come in ragged gasps. “On your knees, pretty girl.” 

And what Geto Suguru wants, Geto Suguru gets. 

Which is why you were sat, eyes hungry and greedily watching the way Suguru slowly, and deliberately peels open the front of his yukata, exposing his toned torso. A sly grin curling his lips at you gape at his leaking cock, standing proud and achingly hard. Thick and unforgiving. 

Fuck, could you really take him in your mouth? He was at least twice as big as anyone else you’ve been with before…

“Open.” he orders, voice low and commanding and making your cunt clench so deliciously in anticipation. Suguru’s flushed tip pokes your lips - glossy with sake and saliva - precum salty on your tongue. God, he was huge. Parting your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length you desperately try to fuck him into your mouth - eager to please.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Because Suguru has a searing grip on your hair, holding your head steady as he pushed his cock all the way down your throat. Delicate veins throbbing against the roof of your mouth as he starts up a steady, merciless pace fucking your mouth as if you were nothing but a fucktoy. 

“C’mon now, you said s’all you want. Better act like it, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, pushing you impossibly further down so that your nose presses into the tufts of thick, black hair at his pelvis. Like delicate strokes of a fine art. Breathing in the heady, masculine scent so sinfully.

This man is a masterpiece, you think deliriously - completely cock-drunk as you gag around his length, eyes burning at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. Over and over. A ceaseless cadence you were losing your mind to. 

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, jus’ like that.” he hisses, as you tongue at his slit. Fingers deftly pressing around your neck to feel his dick ramming down your throat. 

The once-serene room rings with your pathetic, wet gurgles around Suguru’s cock and the smacking of skin on skin as his heavy balls hit your chin. “Take it, take it all.”

You moan, body arching as you claw at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Nails digging neat lines down his milky skin. Balls tightening, he thrusts animalistically into your mouth, each one deeper and harder than the last, cock sliding in and out of you brutally. 

Messy.

Saliva and precum drip down his length, dirtying his yukata. Tears streak down your cheeks onto Suguru’s wrist, fingers tightening ferally around your throat. Blood roaring in your ears, choking at both the throbbing cock and the hand blocking your airway.

 It was so fucking messy.

So it only made sense that Suguru’s orgasm was the same. 

With a guttural cry of your name, Suguru came in hot spurts of cum, shooting rope after rope down your ready throat as his cock pulsed and stuttered in your mouth. You felt so dirty, his seed pooling on your tongue. 

But he wasn’t done - no, far from it - pulling out from your abused mouth with a lewd pop! Twitching cock heavy on your face as he paints your face white. Hips bucking deliriously, a smug smirk playing on his lips at his masterpiece.

Face and mouth covered in his cum, fucked out enough that you basically had heart eyes looking at Suguru, you ready yourself to swallow it all. Needing to taste Suguru immediately.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Because Suguru drops to his knees, hand still tight around your throat as he captures your lips with his. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, forcing his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself. Tasting you. It was absolutely animalistic. 

A barely-lucid, disappointed whine leaves your swollen lips as he pulls away. Only to spit once. Twice. Three times on your face.

You flinch as wads of saliva and his cum hit your face, warm and dripping down your cheeks. Staining the pristine tatami mats below as they fall with a resounding tap! tap! tap!

And you gladly offer yourself up for the abuse. A fucked out smile spreading across your face as you take in the feeling of being so debauched by Suguru. Somewhat-delirious, you barely register the dark mutter against your ear, “Hope you’re not tapping out yet, pretty girl. I haven’t even gotten out my paintbrushes yet.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The yakuza boss

“Strip.”

Standing in the dimly lit room, red-hot irritation flashes behind your eyes as you bristle at the words falling out of his mouth - devastatingly handsome had it not been for that smug, leering smirk. 

Eyes half-lidded, long legs spread on that gaudy armchair, smoke falling from Sukuna’s lips as he stares at you intently. Eyes piercing through yours over his cigar. Demanding compliance. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rip your gaze from his, flitting panickedly between the imposing yakuza boss in front of you - all alluring tattoos, and heavy, gold rings - and the glinting pistol that lay silently on one, muscular thigh.

You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin as your hands tremble, fumbling with those tedious buttons. Breathing heavy, nipples hardening - your top hits the floor. God, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into. 

Cursing your father’s debt, you move on to your pants. Desperately trying to avoid catching a glimpse of those blown-out pupils, something prickly and hot pooling in your stomach. Shit. You won’t start liking this - you refuse to start liking this. 

One by one, it falls away. Leaving you bare and completely exposed under Sukuna’s intense scrutiny. A low growl escapes his lips at the way your thighs clench together so sinfully, the sound sending shivers down your spine. 

“Come here, doll.” Low, raspy words that go straight to your cunt. But you steel yourself, heels clacking against the polished floor as you step closer. And closer. Watching the way he drinks in your naked form. 

But apparently too slow.

Before you can even react, a muscled arm reaches out, pulling you to fall into his waiting lap, straddling those toned hips. A jolt of electricity going through your body as you register the cold metal of the gun digging into your leg. 

Sukuna leans forward, the scent of tobacco and sin overwhelming your senses. “Dance f’me.”

Shit. How dare he talk to you this way - and how dare you let your pussy clench in anticipation at his demeaning tone.

Biting back a groan at the way your hardened nipples brush against his button-up, you tentatively roll your hips forward. A thrill going straight to your pussy as something long and thick presses against you. Involuntarily, you press closer, grinding against him. Hard.

Large, calloused hands find your ass. Squeezing roughly to pull you closer, rocking your hips back and forth on his throbbing erection. Back and forth back and forth back and-

Cool metal pressed against your skin - the barrel of his glinting gun pressed lightly against your forehead. Goosebumps erupt down your spine, painfully prickling at your skin as you realize just what the fuck he was doing. “As much as I love you humping me like a bitch in heat, doll. I asked you to dance f’me.” he murmurs, tone was positively dripping with something dark and dangerous.

Well, you think, gritting your teeth in determination. Might as well give the bastard what he asks for. 

Staring defiantly right into those darkened, intense eyes, you begin moving your body agonizingly slow. Hands tantalizingly tracing the outline of your body. Teasingly caressing the skin, sliding your fingers along your collarbone, down your rib cage, grazing your navel before slithering lower. Lower. 

Your soaked cunt forming a wet patch right on his straining erection. 

Sukuna’s eyes follow your every move - every circle of your hips down on his throbbing bulge. The corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile as he takes in the sight of you so sinful and shamefully exposed for him. 

The desire simmering beneath his composed exterior is basically palpable. 

And then, it snaps.

Suddenly, his arm snaps up, grabbing bruisingly at your waist. With a slow, deliberate motion, he takes a long drag of his cigar - blowing the smoke right in your face, the warm breath mingling with the heady air. 

Your surprised gasp is swallowed by his heated kiss, tongues wrestling as a hand digs into the tender skin of your neck. As if he owns you. 

Hips bucking wildly, and more frantically on Sukuna’s clothed cock - the expensive fabric of his pants now wet with your slick and his precum. You lose yourself in the moment.

But what you do register is the sharp unzipping of his pants. 

Snapping your eyes open, they meet with the large, leaking cock now pulsing in his hands, prominent veins glistening with precum that dribbles down his flushed head. Pulling away, you rip your gaze from his throbbing erection to look in his eyes - with what, fear? Anticipation? Both?

Sukuna lounges back on his armchair leisurely, relishing the way you watch - somewhat-awestruck - as his large hand begins moving in small, unhurried motions up and down his rock-hard length.

A harsh push of the barrel against your forehead snaps you out of your debauched reverie. “Didn’t tell ya to stop, did I, doll?” he hisses out, venomous and needy. 

The tension in the room is almost tangible, the air thick with lust and fear. As you watch the rhythmic jerks of Sukuna’s hand on his erect cock - up and down up and down up and- your body betrays you. 

Mind hazy with arousal, you place your hands on his shoulders, cunt clenching at the strong, defined muscle beneath your fingertips. You lean forward, lips meeting his in a desperate, desperate kiss. 

Pulling away, you reach for his heavy cock, wrapping your fingers around it, feeling it’s thickness and the heat. Sukuna lets out a low growl, eyes closing momentarily as you begin to stroke him in urgent, desperate tugs that have his hips bucking involuntarily.  

As you let him fuck your fist like his own personal fleshlight, you grind down against his thigh. Hard. His tight, twitching ball stimulating your clit just right as you get yourself off on Sukuna like a bitch in heat. 

Maybe it was the pure feral need in your hazy eyes - or maybe it was the way you lean your head into the gun pressing against your forehead - but Sukuna’s eyes widen, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Only growing more amused by the second as you lean impossibly closer to take the cigar from his hand, placing it between your lips. 

Drawing deeply, inhaling the sweet, rich flavor of the tobacco. As you exhale, you deliberately blow the smoke into his face, the tendrils of vapor swirling around his beautiful features, mixing with the sweat and the scent of his cologne.

A deep bark of laughter makes Sukuna throw his head back - and you to clench around nothing on his lap. Hips becoming more and more animalistic against his. Your wrist now aching and wet with precum, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. 

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, his hand cupping your breast possessively. The other surges back with the gun on your forehead - where it had been faltering from pleasure before. “Make us come within the next five seconds before I blow your head off, doll.”

One.

Your fingers tighten around his cock, milking him. Movements from both ends become more and more filthy with the need to release.

Two.

You cup his heavy balls in your hands, clit catching on his zipper and making you mewl at the stimulation.

Three.

A thumb pressing down between his balls, hard. Hips stuttering with your impending release, losing your mind with each stroke.

Four.

Sukuna body goes rigid, choking on what sounds like your name, bottom lip catching between his teeth as he throws his head back and-

Five.

Cums all over your fist, thick, hot spurts of seed that paint your hands white. Splattering on your palm, and onto the chair below. You not too far behind as your body bows into his, stars behind your eyes as you chase peak after peak grinding down on his lap. You shudder, release taking everything out of you until it’s nothing more than mere tingles. 

A finger on the trigger. Pulling. 

Click! 

As Sukuna’s maniacal laughter rings in the heady room, you blink away the haze of your orgasm as you realizing with a jolt that there were no fucking bullets. 

Yet this bastard shot you anyway.

Skin heated against yours, lips ghosting your ear as Sukuna whispers. Low and gravelly. 

“I don’t need a gun to kill, doll.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The professor

“You see, I really, really need this A to pass, sir.” you bat your lashes innocently, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. 

Short skirt hiking up as you lean over the desk in Professor Gojo’s stuffy office. Making sure that tight top you purposefully wore lets those striking blue eyes see a perfect view of your breasts - no bra today, of course. 

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice. 

Success. 

Yet, Professor Gojo’s easy grin stays steadfast, “Well, maybe you should have studied harder then, hm?” You’d almost be fooled by his little act, yet your eyes catch the way he subtly crosses his legs, something stirring in those alluring cerulean eyes as he looks up at you through his lashes.

Deciding to play along, huffing as you cross your arms across your chest, “I did, maybe you should just let me take on an assignment for extra credit.”

His eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raising in question, “What kind of assignment?”

You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk at the way he makes it so easy for you. Reaching out immediately to trace a thumb across his full lips, leaning down far enough that your tits were basically spilling out of your top now. 

“The one where you fuck me, right here. Right now, on this desk.”

You could feel his pulse quickening against your hand, voice strained with need. “I should fail you right now for this.”

Brushing your lips against his earlobe, you whisper, “But you won’t, sir.”

Before you can react, in one, fluid motion strong arms lift you off the desk to splay you out so sinfully on it. You almost get whiplash from his pure strength, brought back only by the feeling of his muscular thighs warm against your ass. 

“If you want that A, then prove how badly you need it.” 

Your heart races as you nod, cheeks flaring with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. With a feral grin, you spread your legs apart, toying with that soaked g-string - exposing your bare pussy. Beads of slick pooling underneath you on the desk as the way Gojo’s eyes harden as you clench around nothing. 

You trail your hands enticingly down, down down. A delicate finger swiping at your folds, collecting your juices - popping right into your mouth. A smug huff of laughter leaves you at the way Gojo’s mouth drops into a surprised oh!

“You’re such a lil’ fucking minx, princess.”

You needed him now. 

Rubbing your thumb over your swollen clit, index finger bullying its way into your snug cunt the way you wanted Gojo to. You gasp, arching your back as waves of pleasure, “Oh, sir! Mmm- feel s’good inside me. Want more- hah-”

Pornographic whines of pleasure send blood rushing straight to Gojo’s cock. He was losing his mind at your little show. He was going insane.

“Your turn now.” you mewl, 

Your hungry gaze was locked with Gojo’s as he stands, removing his belt and unbuckling his pants. Your eyes follow the movement greedily, mouth watering at the impressive size of his erection. Leaking tip furiously flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Delicate beads of precum smearing on the frantic, jerky movements of his fist up and down and up and down and-

It’s a silent staredown. Your fingers matching the delicious rhythm of his fist, urgently fucking yourselves to each other. Trying to see who would break first. Up and down up and down - in and out in and out. Faster. 

“Didn’t think you were all talk, sir.”

That’s what makes the great Gojo Satoru break. Surging forward in hasty steps, your hands pinned to the cold surface of the desk, pussy now quivering in loneliness. 

Smack!

“Count to five, then I’ll give what you want. If you can’t even do that then I don’t think you deserve an A, princess.”

“O-one.” You whine at the harsh hand that smacks your ass, large handprint stinging into your searing skin. 

“This the hand?” Gojo whispers, voice ragged. Inspecting your hands before his tongue sticks out to lick a long, languid stripe up your fingers, pooling your juices on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks your fingers clean so filthily. 

Electricity courses through your veins as his long fingers deftly rip off your flimsy g-string, pocketing it safely in his work pants. You have half the mind to snark about it before you register Gojo’s throbbing cock flush against your pussy, leaking tip teasing in between your dripping folds leisurely. 

Your slick mixing with his precum, trailing down down down his glistening length, pooling on where he tightly gripped his base - splattering onto the hardwood office floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! that matched the heartbeat in your ears. 

“Beg for it, princess.”

“Hmmm, no.”

Smack! Smack! 

“Ah! Three! Hah- please, sir.”

You didn’t even know exactly what you were begging for - but you got exactly what you wanted. Breath catching in your throat at the way Gojo pushed into you with a raspy grunt, cock hot and heavy against your fluttering walls. 

His sheer size makes you feel like you’ll split apart any second now, but oh how you desperately wanted to be broken by him. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Gojo began to thrust. Shallow, mindless strokes, each one just to drive his enormous cock deeper to fit into your snug, ravaged cunt. 

“Fuck me, please, sir. Need you feel me up insi-”

Smack! 

“...four.” you whisper, voice strained with need and frustration.

Ass sore, marks probably there for days. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as Gojo loses grip on his restraint - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. Sheathing himself inside your dripping heaven till his heavy balls smacked your clit, your ass flush against the neat tufts of white at his pelvis. 

Wasting no time, Gojo starts up at an uncontrollable, merciless pace, every inch of him being forced all the way into your snug pussy. Your walls suck him up greedily as his prominent veins throb and graze just right on all your sweet spots. 

“This what you wanted, princess?” he rasps out, pace unwavering. “This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked like the pretty little slut that you are, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, please, sir.”

Each ramming of his cock drives you further and further up the cold desk, a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth at each slam. Knees weakened by his relentless pounding, you didn’t know how you were gonna hold yourself up anymore-

Ah, but you didn’t have to. Gojo Satoru, ever the gentleman, wrapped a single, muscular arm under your hips, kneading the skin underneath his fingertips, fucking you deeper onto his cock as if you were his personal fucktoy.  

“Oh fuck! Hngh- sir, right there.” you yelp at the new angle, his furiously flushed tip kissing your cervix so painfully good, g-spot abused as he grazes it over and over. 

Smack!

“Ah, sir! Five-”

And then you’re cumming. Hips pushing back animalistically, fucking yourself through your high. Chasing peak after peak.

Boneless and exhausting, dripping cunt clamping down on him you mewl, “Fill me up inside, sir! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs.” At the sound of your voice, Gojo’s eyes rolled back, his features contorted in pure ecstasy as his cock twitches savagely inside you, finally letting himself release. Cum gushing out in thick, pulsating spurts.

Filling your abused pussy to the brim, coating your walls an obscene white. Gojo keeps fucking himself through it, milking even the last drops of his length on your cunt. Breaths ragged, hips animalistic, low murmurs of your name leaving his lips. 

And as his climax bates into nothing more but mere tingles, lust-hazed, tired ears catch the distant knocking from outside. Ah, right that appointment.

Blinking back the vision to his eyes, he looks down at you. All fucked-out, swollen lips pouty, and his cum dribbling enticingly down your thighs. Oh how he just wants to bite into you - or have half the mind to just send you out there like this to show all those college losers who you belong to. 

Or, he thinks, eyes twinkling as he looks down at the generously large space under his desk.

You catch his gaze, a dangerous glint in them as he maps every curve and dip of your body. Marked and so very obviously his. Your pretty lips falling into a soft oh! as you realize just what idea was forming behind those darkened blue eyes. 

“Come in.”

Before you know it, you’re shoved hastily under the desk, Gojo’s still-furiously flushed tip kissing your bruised lips as the door swings open. God, if every assignment was like this then you’d probably end up valedictorian…

A/N. Can’t believe this got me b@nned for like a hour bro pls.

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[imaginedisish]

Everlong (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: This was not a request, just a thought I had and had to get out. "Everlong" by Foo Fighters just scratches my brain in a way very few songs can, and it fits perfectly for this fic. Hope you guys enjoy.

Summary: Logan offers you his bed as a friend, knowing how hard it is for you to fall asleep alone. But after months of sleeping next to him platonically, things finally take a turn...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT! Thigh riding, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Cockwarming, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, non-sexual intimacy to sexual intimacy, friends to lovers, man-handling, rough sex, afab!reader/f!reader, feelings, fluff, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,619 jeeeeeeezzzzz this is DEPRAVED

Sleep was hard—that is, until you started sleeping in Logan’s bed. 

It had all started out so innocent. You were sitting on a couch in the study, flicking through the pages of your favorite book. You had just finished your fourth lap around the grounds of the mansion, and you decided you needed a break. The clock on the wall read 2:22 AM, mocking you, reminding you that of all the gifts you have, sleeping would never be one of them. 

“What’re you doing awake?” You jumped at the voice breaking up the silence, but quickly recognized its bassy, deep tone. You turned to face Logan in the doorway. 

“Just can’t sleep,” you answered, shrugging your shoulders. He wore a beater and gray sweatpants, and you struggled against the urge to trail your eyes up and down his body. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him—you’ve wanted him for months. 

Logan crossed his arms against his chest and smiled softly. “Can’t sleep either,” he said, taking a step closer. “You can come up to my room, if you want” he offered. “Next time you can’t sleep, or you have a nightmare, or you just can’t think of anything to do, come find me.”

You smiled at his words, at his kindness, at his willingness to help you. “Thank you, Logan,” you whispered. 

“No problem, princess.” And then he turned to leave, walking back through the hallway and up the stairs to his room. 

You’re still not sure what came over you in those following moments—still don’t understand where your confidence came from—but you forced yourself up from the couch and down the hall, following Logan’s path to his room. 

He was already inside, already had the door closed, so you knocked. And the door immediately swung open. You swallowed, parting your lips nervously. “Lo, do you think I could take you up—”

But he didn’t even let you finish. He grabbed your arm and tugged you into the darkness of his room, navigating you carefully to his bed. He laid you down and walked to the other side, climbing in next to you. He brought the covers over your bodies, shuffling under the sheets, settling in, and then everything was silent. 

You tried to get comfortable. You rolled onto your stomach and waited, eyes shut tight, hoping that sleep would take you under its current. But it didn’t. You rolled back onto your side, away from Logan, opening and closing your eyes frustratedly.

“You okay?” He asked. You could hear Logan inching towards you, his front suddenly pressing against your back. 

You hummed in affirmation, leaning your back into him. He reached a tentative arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest. “Is this okay?” He husked, his lips at the shell of your ear. 

“Yeah,” you panted into the darkness of his room, taking shallow breaths, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You could smell him everywhere—on the sheets, the pillowcase, in the air of the room. It was all leather and musk and pine and denim. And there he was, holding you, his thumb drawing soft circles into your slightly exposed midriff. Something about it was overwhelming, but also comforting, as though all your senses were being cradled by him.

He could hear your heart beating, could hear your breath catching in your throat. “Relax,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Go to sleep.” Your eyes fluttered closed, and you focused on Logan’s breathing. It was constant, stable, steadfast. He was so warm, so solid. And soon enough, you found yourself giving in to sleep. 

You woke up a few hours later, the pale light of the moon still pushing through the curtains. Logan’s legs were tangled with yours, your face pressed into the center of his chest, his arm wrapped around your back, holding you tight. You tried to lift your head to read the clock behind you on the nightstand.

But Logan pulled you back down. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured against the crown of your head. “Too early.” 

That’s how most nights have been since then—climbing into his bed, completely innocently, just to be able to sleep. He holds you all night, keeping you close. And when the sun finally rises, you both get up and head down to the kitchen, watching as Logan brews you a pot of coffee. 

It’s shockingly domestic and incredibly intimate. And yet, the two of you have never talked about it. It’s a silent agreement, one based on pattern, convention, and repetition. These very events have played out more times than you can count—for months now. It has become so normalized that you don’t question it, don’t even think about it when you crawl into his bed, and he pulls you into his chest. 

So, tonight starts out like any other. Your feet pad along the dark, mahogany wood floors, down the dim, quiet hallway, towards Logan’s room. You’re only wearing a pair of panties and one of Logan’s old t-shirts, the hem falling to the middle of your thighs. 

You stand in front of his door and knock. You aren’t nervous anymore—aren’t anxious as he opens the door. He’s already shirtless, wearing just his boxers—which, however, is something you will never get used to. He smiles, his eyes trailing up and down your body as he steps to the side, inviting you in. 

You know the drill by now—you walk to your side of the bed, lying down and pulling the covers up to your chin. Logan follows suit. You move in silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. It’s a silence shared by two people who don’t have to say a word, don’t have to communicate to feel connection. His arms wrap around your body, and he tugs you into his chest. 

“Didn’t see you today,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your forehead. “Wish I could’ve.” His fingertips graze up and down your back, your t-shirt hitching up as you get comfortable, revealing your bare legs. 

“I’m here now,” you whisper, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, smelling him, letting him overtake your senses. He tangles your legs with his.

“Is this my shirt, by the way?” he asks, his hands sliding down to the hem, which is now bunched up above the waistband of your panties. 

You smile into his neck. “Maybe,” you answer, giggling softly. 

His fingertips slip just under the t-shirt, tentative and hesitant, waiting for you to push him away, to tell him no. But you don’t. “Looks better on you than it does on me,” he husks, his thigh settling between your legs so that you’re straddling it. 

“Th-thanks,” you stutter, trying to ignore the way he bumps against your core, the way his words make your heart race. You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around his center, letting him engulf you in his warmth. You swallow your feelings down and close your eyes. “Night, Lo,” you mutter.  

“Night, princess,” he says, his lips against the crown of your head. 

You listen carefully to his breathing, like you always do, and after a few moments, you find yourself falling asleep.

When you wake up a few hours later, your back is against Logan’s front. His arm keeps you pressed tightly to his chest, his nose nudging against the crook of your neck—you can feel his breath, warm on your skin. Your legs are intertwined, his knee just inches away from your core. 

Logan moves in his sleep, his knee bumping against your core now, his nose nuzzling into your neck, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just under your ear. You take a deep breath, pleasure pulsing between your thighs as Logan moves again, his thigh dragging against you. You can’t help the moan that falls from your lips. 

He moves again, and that’s when you feel it—his erection stiff against the curve of your ass. Heat spreads across your chest, up to your neck, your stomach somersaulting as his hips press harder into your ass.

“L-Lo,” you stutter into the darkness of his room. But he doesn’t answer. His thigh slides against your core again. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, soaking your panties. “Logan,” you choke, moaning louder this time.  

He hums in response, nuzzling his nose deeper into your neck, his lips pressing against your skin—the ghost of a kiss. It’s too much—you want to grind down on his thigh, want to feel his cock pressing against your ass, want to feel his hips rutting against yours. You thought maybe this would happen, hoped that one night would lead to something like this, but you never dreamed it would actually come to pass. 

Logan’s thigh rubs against your heat again, and you mumble his name, your breathing quickening. “Fuck,” you groan, involuntarily bucking your hips against Logan’s. His erection drags along your ass. 

You force yourself to be still as Logan grunts into your neck. “You awake, pretty girl?” He whispers against your ear. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to play half-asleep. You don’t want to let on that you can feel him hard against you, and you pray you aren’t soaking through your panties and onto his thigh. 

You swear you can hear him mumble a soft fuck under his breath. Your thoughts race around your head. Maybe he was awake the whole time. Maybe he felt your hips roll against him. Maybe he can smell the arousal growing between your thighs. You know he can hear your heart hammering against your ribcage. 

But his arm tightens its grip around your waist, and he pulls you closer, holding you down against his thigh. “What were you doing, sweetheart?” He rasps, pressing a true, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. You gasp, a shiver running down your spine. 

“Wh-what do you mean?” You stutter, stumbling around your words as he kisses your neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just under your ear. 

He moves his knee, pressing harder into your core, dragging his thigh against your aching heat. You stifle a moan as he repeats the motion. “Felt you riding me, pretty girl,” he huffs, his hands gripping your waist, guiding your hips along his thigh. “Smelt you, too,” he whispers, his lips still at your neck. “Can feel that pretty, wet pussy dripping on me, darlin’.”

“Logan,” you whine, letting him move your hips back and forth. The pressure feels so good. You need more. “Please…” You trail off, grinding down onto him. 

“Making a fucking mess of me, aren’t you?” He teases, his fingers gripping your hips like iron, so tight he might bruise. “Love watching you get off on me.” His voice is dark and honeyed, smooth like expensive liquor. Your walls clench around nothing as your clit drags along Logan’s thigh and you moan, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “So sensitive, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you pant, letting him pull you back and forth. You’ll take anything you can get—anything he’s willing to give to you. “D-don’t stop,” you beg. 

“Fuck,” Logan grunts. “Need me that bad, huh?”

“Y-you have no idea,” you stammer. He bites your pulse point as one of his hands wraps around your front, slipping inside your panties and finding your clit. “Oh fuck, Lo,” you whine, the pads of his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles around the bud. 

“That feels good, pretty girl?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and he’s getting off on it. You can feel his erection hard against your ass every time his hips buck into yours. “Bet it does, the way you’re soaking my thigh.”

“So fucking good,” you whimper. But you know you need more. You need him. “Logan, please…” You trail off, the words escaping you as pleasure pulses through your body. 

“Please what, darlin’?” He teases, his fingers pulling out of your panties, his hands gripping your hips again, rolling you against his thigh. It’s not enough, and you groan at the loss of contact. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“N-need more,” you croak, dragging yourself along him. 

“More what, beautiful?” But you know he knows. You know he wants to hear you beg for it, wants to hear you beg for him. 

“More of you,” you choke out.

“Yeah?” He chides, slowing the roll of your hips with his iron grip. “More of me how?” He’s so goddamn cocky, so unfair. 

“I-I…” your eyes roll back into your head as he slowly, teasingly drags you up his thigh, pulling you against his erection and holding you there. “However you want me,” you whisper, pushing against his cock. “Just want you.”

He suddenly pulls away, his grip on your hips forcing you into the mattress as he rolls on top of you, caging you in, his hands on either side of your head. 

Logan’s lips crash down onto yours, swallowing you hungrily, his teeth grazing your lower lip and licking away the pain. You part your lips, inviting him inside, tasting his tongue against yours. He slides a hand down your body, stopping at the hem of your shirt and yanking it up. He breaks the kiss to slip the shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. He sits up on his knees, his eyes trailing your body, settling on your bare breasts. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Logan praises, lowering down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand glides up your side and to your breasts. He palms your flesh, rolling his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pinching lightly. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” He traces across the valley of your breasts, his hand massaging the other side. 

He grinds his hips into yours, his erection nudging against your core. “Wanted you so bad, pretty girl,” he pants, pressing another kiss to your lips. His fingertips drag down your body, gripping your hip tightly again. “Dreamed of fucking you, of tasting you.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck as he pushes you into the mattress, biting down on your pulse point. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

You moan as he sucks at your sensitive skin. “Want you, Lo. Need you,” you whine, your arms wrapping around his back, nails digging into his skin. “Always wanted you.”

He kisses a trail down your neck, to your collarbone, between the valley of your breasts. He slides down your body, peppering light kisses across your stomach, stopping at the hem of your panties. He looks up at you, his face illuminated by the pale, blue moonlight. You can see the desperation in his eyes, the need. He licks his lips—a man starved—as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. 

He tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor, and settles between your thighs. His face is just inches from your aching heat. Your chest heaves as he brings himself closer, his breath fanning across your cunt. You look down at him and find him staring up at you, watching your every move. 

“Wanna know what you taste like, darlin’,” he huffs, his palms splaying on your inner thighs, spreading your legs wide open for him. “Want me to make you feel good?” His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs possessively. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, already arching your back off the mattress. “Please, Logan.”

He smiles, his eyes still trained on yours as his tongue swipes through your folds, long and slow, all the way up to your clit. “Fuck,” he mumbles against your core, flicking your clit, lapping at it twice before starting all over again. He licks another teasing stripe through your folds, landing on your clit and taking the bud between his lips this time. He sucks roughly, releasing your clit and swirling soothing circles around it. “You taste so perfect. Better than I ever imagined.” 

He laves at you, devouring you, his head buried against your cunt. His right hand climbs up your inner thigh, nearing your folds as his teeth graze your clit. Your hips jolt back at the sudden feeling, and Logan is quick to slide his left hand under your thigh. He grips tightly, yanking you back to him, and pressing his face deeper into your cunt. “Don’t even think about it, pretty girl. You’re not going anywhere until I’m finished with you.” 

You moan at his words, his right hand finally working its way up to your folds. His fingertips find your entrance, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs, prodding your slit. “Want my fingers, darlin’?”

“Yes, Lo, please. Want all of—” He thrusts two long, thick fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. “Oh, fuck,” you cry out as he pulls out and slams back in. 

His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud every time he takes it between his lips to suck. It’s overwhelming, overstimulating, the way he laps at you, drinking you in, consuming you. If he could find a way to keep your taste on his tongue all day, he would. If he could slip under your skin to be one with you, to feel your warmth, he would. You know this isn’t want. This isn’t lust. This isn’t some one-off thing. This is need. This is longing. 

Your eyes roll back into your head as he breathes you in, his tongue working at your clit as his fingers thrust in and out, dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you. “Doing so good for me, sweetheart,” Logan praises, and you clench down around him at the words. He smiles against your cunt. “You like that, don’t you? Like when I tell you just how good of a girl you are.” 

Your walls flutter around him again. “I-I do,” you admit, your voice shaky as he fucks into you, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his fingers. 

Logan chuckles darkly, the reverberation pulsing against your clit. “That’s my good girl, giving me what I’ve been waiting for,” he huffs, lapping at you, sucking on your clit like it’s candy. “Would’ve waited forever for you.”

Your muscles contract and release at his words, at the intimate confession. “Would’ve waited forever for y-you too,” you whimper, his fingers still working you open. You’re so close. Fire burns at the base of your spine, your walls clenching around Logan’s fingers again as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles into your bud. 

“No more waiting, beautiful,” Logan grunts, and you know what he means—he knows you’re close. “Wanna feel you come around my fingers, wanna taste it.” It isn’t a request; it’s a command. His fingers plunge deeper, his tongue laving at your clit roughly between sentences. “Know you’re ready to let go, sweetheart. Don’t hold back. Come for me.”

You’re crashing down, falling, but not into nothingness—into Logan, into his warmth, into his touch. Your chest heaves and the room spins. Heat pours from deep at the bottom of your belly, fire spreading up your spine. Nothing has ever felt like this. His name is the only thing you can think, the only thing you can say: Logan Logan Logan Logan. 

His pumps slow down, his fingers dragging gently along your inner walls until he stills inside you and carefully pulls out. His tongue is still lapping at you, still working your overstimulated clit. 

“Logan,” you whine, your hands finding his head, digging your nails into his scalp. “Want you.”

He smirks against you, knowing full well what he’s doing. “You have me, darlin’.”

You groan, half in frustration, half in pleasure—the tension building back up between your thighs with every flit of Logan’s tongue. “Please,” you beg, tugging on Logan’s hair. He grunts at the feeling, smiling against your cunt again. “I want you, Logan.”

“Gotta be more specific, pretty girl,” he huffs, his face finally separating from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, his lower lip. He brings his fingers to his mouth as he waits, wrapping his lips around his fingers and sucking, savoring the taste of you. 

“Want you inside me…” You trail off, watching as his fingers pop out of his mouth, his tongue darting out along his lower lip, rationing every drop of you he can find. “Want your cock,” you finally choke out.

The corner of Logan’s mouth turns up, his fingers hooking into his boxers and tugging them down. “Wanna fuck you so bad, beautiful,” he grunts, his cock springing free, bouncing against his stomach. He’s so much bigger than you had anticipated. You swallow nervously as he lowers himself down over you, resting on his forearm. “Thought about this for so long.”

His hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your folds. He swipes through you, spreading your slick, notching against your clit. You moan at the contact, your chest coming flush with Logan’s as your back arches off the mattress. “Logan, please,” you beg. “Just want you. Only ever gonna—”

He plunges deep inside you, down to the hilt with one thrust. You’ve never felt so full—his cock thick and long, splitting you open. His presses a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans as his tongue darts out, tangling with yours. He’s still inside you, stretching you out, allowing you to adjust to the size of him. “You okay, pretty girl?” He asks as his lips part from yours.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your arms wrapping around his back. “Feels good. So big.”

Logan pulls out and thrusts back in, splitting you open again. “Fuck,” he groans, his forehead resting against yours. “So fucking perfect. So tight, so warm. Made for me, darlin’.” Your eyes flutter open and closed as his free hand slips between your bodies, quickly finding your clit. 

“Lo,” you whine as his fingers draw tight, rapid circles into the bud. He sets his pace, pumping in and out of your cunt with reckless abandon. His hips rock against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing along the walls of the room. 

“Knew you’d feel like this,” Logan soothes, flicking your clit as he fucks into you. “Knew you’d feel this good. Wanna be inside you forever, princess.”

His lips find yours again, his teeth tugging on your lower lip and then sucking the pain away. It’s rushed and frantic, like he’s dying for more, searching for a way to reach deeper inside you, to feel all of you at once. 

He ruts into you, his hips snapping, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. He pinches your clit roughly, and your back arches off the mattress, your chest pressing against his. 

“No idea how much I wanted you…” You trail off as his cock pounds into you. He’s still stretching you out, still working you open. 

Logan moans your name, his cock throbbing at your words. “Wanted to fuck you that first night you came in here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. “Wanted you before that too. Knew I needed you the second I saw you.”

The confession rocks through you. You think of all those nights spent next to Logan, all those stolen moments. He wanted you—needed you the whole time. 

“Lo,” you hiccup, his fingertips swirling your clit, his hips rocking against yours. He sinks deep inside, again and again, pumping in and out. Your walls flutter around his cock, dragging him in deeper. 

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he groans, sliding out and plunging back in. “Squeezing me so good, taking me so well.”

Tears brim in the corners of your eyes at the pure pleasure drumming through your bones. You know you’re close, know you’re almost unraveling underneath him. Logan flicks your clit, drawing hard, rough strokes around the bud. You’re on fire, and you’re burning for him. 

“Logan I-I…” You stumble around your words, unable to form a coherent sentence as he pounds into you. Your walls flutter around him again, and his cock twitches inside you at the feeling. 

He groans, your name on his tongue like a prayer. “I know you’re close, pretty girl.” He throbs inside you, and you know he’s almost there too. “Wanna make you come again,” he grunts, pulling out and pumping back in. “Know you have another one in you, sweetheart.”

He’s right. You can’t hold on much longer, but you want this moment to last. You want to feel his cock dragging along your walls, filling you up, splitting you open. You want his chest flush against yours. You want to feel the way he bites your lip and sucks away the sting he leaves behind. You want it all—all of him—and you don’t just want it right now. You don’t want this to be a fleeting moment. You want it to be forever. 

“Come on, beautiful,” Logan pants, his pace faltering, his hips stuttering. He twitches inside you again. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He strokes your clit, drawing those quick circles into the bud. “Let go for me. Know you want to,” he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words overwhelm you, and you let go. It’s all more forceful this time, more powerful, your body trembling, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as wave after wave of pleasure tears through your body. It feels like blinding, searing heat, spreading like a forest fire. 

Logan is right behind you, moaning your name, his cock throbbing against your walls. “Gonna fill you up, pretty girl,” he husks, his chest heaving. You whisper a soft, pleading yes. “Fuck, gonna make you mine,” he moans. His cock throbs again, and then he’s spilling inside you, filling you with his release. 

His fingers rub gentle strokes into your clit, his cock slowly pumping in and out before stilling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his hand traveling up your body, and rolling you over so that you’re side by side, facing each other. He pulls you into his chest, his cock still deep inside you. 

Logan’s arms wrap around your back, caressing your bare skin, tracing patterns and shapes with his fingertips. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head as you bury your face into his chest. 

“Wanna stay inside you,” he mumbles against your hair. “Wanna keep you close.”

“You can,” you whisper, your heart hammering. “Wanna stay close, too.” 

He presses another kiss to your head. “I’m not going anywhere,” Logan soothes, his fingers running up and down your spine. “Gonna want you forever.” 

You lift your head to look up at him, his eyes immediately meeting yours. “Forever?” You ask, but you know it’s a dumb question. You know he’s telling the truth.

He smiles and nods. “Would’ve waited for you forever,” he says, pausing, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Never felt this way before, pretty girl. Never felt this real, this perfect. Don’t wanna let you go.”

“Don’t,” you whisper into the darkness of his room. “Please.”

“I won’t,” he coos, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I won’t.”

His breathing steadies, and you listen to him like you do every night. Your eyes flutter shut, and you drift off to sleep with Logan’s cock deep inside you.

Forever. You think as your mind goes quiet and sleep drags you under. Forever. 

Everlong.   

tags: @ricefordays-blog1 @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @spiderset @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @starrdustss @wittyjasontodd @pedrohoe04 @fanfic-writing-barbie @evasmlp @derbygracie @cosmiccandydreamer @honeyfewr @movhoney @manipulatour @rammakela *I am so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

[reidrum]

how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things | s.r.

A/N: this is literally prn with no plot i’m sorry. i just really love thinking about spencer on his knees sue me! this was supposed to be longer but then i decided to save it for when i write for juno heheh

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spencer AND munch!spencer look at that a 2-for-1!, fingering fem receiving, brief condescending!spence if you blink, many many pet names, spencer says good girl that’s a warning on its own, afab!reader

summary: you and spencer come home from a night out and he knows exactly what to say to get you wrapped around his finger (literally!)

wc: 1.4k

_______________________________________________

You stumble through the door with Spencer trailing not too far behind you. You’d both been out with the team getting drinks and as the night progressed Spencer found himself getting especially touchy with you, so much that you could still feel the imprint of his hand on your inner thigh.

The drinks of the night had long faded leaving you in a haze as you both entered your apartment, Spencer’s solid frame coming up behind you to hold your waist.

“Good thing I’m here to make sure you don’t fall.” He chuckles softly.

He slowly turns you around and gently pushes you against the wall. You give him a lazy smile as your hand reaches up to trace the outline of his jaw, “You’re pretty.”

“If I’m pretty, what does that make you?”

“Lucky.”

Spencer blushes and smiles softly, “That was good,” He bends down to press a kiss to the spot behind your ear, slowly trailing down to the sweet spot at the base of your neck. His fingers press into the sides of your hips, “You okay? Still feeling it?”

You shake your head no pointedly, “Just fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy is good,” He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, “You’re nicer when you’re fuzzy.”

“I’m nice all the time!” You feign offense.

He chuckles back, “Okay, you are nice all the time. I think I meant more…compliant.”

You grin up at him, “What, you don’t like me in control?”

“No I do, trust me, I do. But, you deserve to be taken care of. And I really like it when I get to take care of you. It’s easier for me to do that when you’re all…fuzzy.”

Another lazy smiles adorns you and Spencer can’t help but lean in and kiss your nose.

“Well, we aren’t doing anything until these devil shoes come off.” You mutter softly.

Spencer laughs and kisses you one last time before smoothing his hands down your side as he sinks to his knees, gesturing you to lift your foot up and perch it on his shoulder, allowing perfect access to your heel.

You lean back against the wall attempting to flatten your back to ease the aching of it. Through hooded eyes you look down to meet Spencer’s hazel ones staring right back at yours, as his fingers ghost over the straps of your heels.

“Feet hurt?” He asks as he presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh of your calf, gently massaging the skin as he works his way down the buckle of your heel.

“In these? Always.” You laugh back.

“Oh, poor baby.” He mumbles back with a pout, leaning forward to kiss the base of your ankle. Your eyes widen slightly in entice as you watch him leave kisses up your leg, hands following their path and caressing the skin it touches. He gently places your bare foot on the ground and picks up the other heeled one, placing it on his shoulder and repeating the same motions.

The intimacy of the moment strikes you as you watch his long fingers toy with the buckles and straps of your heels before sliding them off. Your hand subconsciously reaches for his hair and cards through it gently, pushing it away from his eyes.

“Hi.” you whisper.

He looks up to meet your gaze, “Hi, honey.”

“You look pretty down there.”

A chuckle escapes him, “Do I?”

You nod, “Are you going to stay down there or…?”

His fingers dance around your calves slowly inching upwards, “What do you want me to do?”

Humming softly at the touch, you lean your head back against the wall, “I want…whatever you want.”

Spencer laughs again, “See? My compliant, pretty girl.” His fingers reach the hem of your dress, slowly inching further up, “I think I’ll stay down here for a little bit…if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s o—okay.” Your breath hitches as he toys with the outer edges of your panties. His fingers trace the outline out to in, just missing contact with where you want him.

You whine softly as he continues to evade the one spot you need him, squirming against the wall for any friction you can find. He lightly chastises you, “So needy…you’re acting like you haven’t been touched in weeks.”

“Spence…”

He hums, “But that’s not true, right?” One finger strokes the front of your panties, tracing a path from the wet patch up to your clothed clit.

“N—No.” You half moan.

His finger lays more pressure, “I take really good care of you, right angel?”

A curse slips from you as he strokes you over your panties.

Spencer smirks as he hooks his index fingers on either side of your panties and slowly starts to drag it down, not missing how the fabric sticks to your slick like honey. “You know why, I take such good care of you?”

You’re too caught up in the anticipation to respond, but that’s not enough for Spencer when he stops his motions and taps your leg, “I asked you a question.”

You look down at him and shake your head exasperatedly, hoping the silent answer was enough for him to continue since you’re nearly on the ledge from the way his hands are moving.

His finger trails back up your leg and ghosts over your exposed cunt, teasing you endlessly, “I take care of you…because you’re a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Spencer…please…” You’re not sure how much longer you can take this, your body squirming for any contact.

“Say it.” He pulls back so he can look you directly in the eyes, a single digit sliding through your folds.

“Jesus, fuck,” you let out breathlessly, “Okay, okay I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl, just please…” You can’t even bring yourself to care at how desperate you sound, you would start begging like a sinner in church if he didn’t do anything soon.

He smirks, “That’s my girl,” he taps your thigh, “Over my shoulder.” You quickly abide and raise your leg over his shoulder and rest your thigh on it. Spencer leans in and dives into your folds like a man starved, your hands moving to tangle in his hair and in an effort to stabilize yourself. His tongue motions like he’s making a painting and you definitely think you deserve to be hung in the Louvre after this.

You feel him add a finger in and you’re a goner.

“Spence…I’m—fuck oh my god, please don’t stop.” You whine.

His lips detach from you while he adds another fingers and continues his motions and he mumbles, “You gonna come for me, angel? Been like, what a few minutes and you’re already about to make a mess on my fingers…so needy.” he teases.

He returns back to your core, licking long and thick stripes up and down, his fingers not slowing down as he brings you closer to the edge. The peak begins to build in your gut and the climax overtakes you, a mixture of expletives and Spencer’s name leaving your mouth like a twisted spell.

You release your death grip on his hair as he sits back to catch his breath. You slump down the wall to sit in front of him, your leg still swung over his shoulder. He smiles fondly at you and holds the ankle next to his head, leaning in to press a kiss, “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm…” You hazily say, “Peachy, even.”

His eyes narrow slightly, “…Because they’re fuzzy?” you giggle and nod feeling super proud of your pun. He can’t help but laugh with endearment with you as he gently helps your leg off his shoulder and places it on the ground before standing up himself and reaching his hands out for you to grab it, “Let’s go to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”

You place your hands in his and allow him to pull you up, once you’re on your feet you register his words, “Wait, huh?”

He slowly spins you around so his chest is to your back and starts guiding you down the hallway, “Oh baby, did you think we were stopping at one?” he whispers sultrily in your ear. A shudder runs down your spine and he laughs feeling you shake in his arms.

[iisasxia]

Bakugo loves to zip up your dresses for you whenever you guys go out.

When you guys went out for the hero awards he happily took his time zipping up the lacey wine red dress you chose to wear, not aware it would be coming off 2 hours later.

Needless to say his favorite part was helping you get ready, strapping on your heels, putting on your bracelets and necklaces. He loved it and he loved you and as your boyfriend he made sure to remind you of that daily.

You had went out again but midday which for him seemed a bit odd with the dress you were wearing, you told him you’d be back around 7:30 to cook late dinner to which he agreed to as long as he could help.

You came on time like you said but he thought it was weird when you asked to take off the dress for you.. he did so anyways with a raised brow that soon turned into two when he realized you asked him to do so.

—

“Kats” you close the door behind you and wait for any sign of him being home.

“Hey you’re home” he stepped out of your shared bedroom and made his way over to you, per usual helping you take off your heels and peppering you with soft kisses.

“Do you wanna shower ? I don’t mind cooking dinner if you wanna relax.” he scanned your face for any sign of exhaustion or discomfort but was a bit confused to see the grin on your face.

You kiss him softly before cupping his face and reassuring him. “M’ okay kats” and you can’t help but smile at the way he loosens up knowing you’re okay, his kisses trailing from the palm of your hand that held his face to your arm and neck..

You were so into it you didn’t realize he was starting to leave hickeys.

“Mm kats..” you softly whisper, trying to get his attention.

“Mm ?”

“I need you to do something for me”

He looked up in curiosity and amusement as to what you might ask. “What is it ?”

“Do you mind unzipping my dress for me ?” You turn around and make sure your hair isn’t in the way.

He paused for a moment, confused at your request considering you usually take your dresses off yourself with no issue. He didn’t oppose to your request and began unzipping your dress.

He stopped for a moment.. “y/n..” you could feel his breath against your skin as he held back from taking you right then and there.

You couldn’t help the smile that made its way to your face. “You like it ?”

There was no response.. he was taking in the fresh tattoo that made its way from the nape of your neck down to the dimples on your back, the tattoo was sexy and he was glad you weren’t facing him to see him practically drooling over both it and you.

“I decided to get one finally but I wanted to surprise you.. I thought you’d-“ and you bit your lip to suppress the moan that nearly left your mouth.

He gently pressed a finger down your spine where the tattoo presented itself. God what did he do to deserve a girlfriend like you is all he could ask himself.

“K-kats it’s sensitive..” you practically whine as he trails his finger back up now placing both his hands on your hips to turn you around.

“I fucking love it.” is all he could say before crashing his lips onto yours, but before he could continue he had to ask.

“How long until it heals ?”

“About 6 months”

You expected him to be upset but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

—

“I don’t mind putting you on your stomach.”

[chastiefoul]

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

[prythianpages]

Be Patient | Azriel x Reader

summary: After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, where he spends seven days patiently longing after you.

warnings: fluff, mild angst bc of Az pining and lowkey being a menace in day court and reader being a little dense, also this is really long, 11K, my longest one shot ever...

note: This is a part two to Be Safe but can be read as a stand alone too. Huge shoutout to @stormhearty , @daycourtofficial & @thecrowesnest13 & the sweet overexcited anon who helped me with this! This is set pre-ACOTAR events and I realized my mistake in naming Helion as High Lord because I think he became High Lord UTM? so for this fic's sake, let's just assume he was already High Lord..

Mate. 

The realization crashes over Azriel like a tidal wave. It’s almost suffocating. Mine, the bond in his chest roars. Protect. The emotions swell, fueled by his shadows whispering and urging him on to go and keep you safe. Because who better to do so than him?

Before he knows it, he’s following you into Day Court, his shadows swallowing his form until Mor’s and Cassian’s laughter are distant echoes.

Piercing violet eyes greet him as soon as he steps out from his shadows, blocking his view. It’s almost as if he had been expecting Azriel. Talons rake across the shields of his mind and Azriel reluctantly lets him in. Go back, Rhysand asserts, holding the shadowsinger’s gaze.

I can’t, he nearly growls in his mind. 

The thought of leaving you, not being by your side is insufferable. It’s this very thought that has some of his shadows dancing toward you, the shadow curled around his ear whispering to him about your whereabouts. You stand, a couple of feet away, speaking with Helion. You’re completely oblivious to the two Illyrian males glaring at one another.

What do you mean you can’t? Rhysand doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in his tone.

Azriel then shows Rhysand what happened just moments ago. The mating bond snapping into place right as you were winnowing away. He leaves out the part where Cassian and Mor had been teasing him but he suspects Rhysand was aware of that.

Rhysand lets out a sigh, running a hand down the length of his face. What appears to be exhaustion tears through his features before he leans in toward the taller male. “Really?” He whispers in an exasperated hush. “Right now?

Azriel falters with a huff, his head following the direction his shadows had gone. It’s only when his gaze lands on you that it softens. “You say it like I had a choice.” 

But boy is he glad it is you.

”Fine,” Rhysand sighs after a long moment of silence. He knows he can’t do anything about it, the determination in the Shadowsinger’s eyes burning bright. He’d fear going against the Cauldron if he did. “You can stay. But—“ he lifts a jewel adorned finger in warning“—you distract her—“

Azriel’s head turns back to Rhysand and there’s a frown on his face. ”I don’t distract her.”

”Please,” Rhysand chuckles in disbelief. “Listen, I’m happy for you. Truly. But we didn’t come all this way for nothing and I need her to be able to focus. She can’t even think properly around you and if she finds out you’re her–”

“She thinks about me?”

Rhysand shuts his mouth with a withering stare.

Azriel’s shadows are then whispering madly, coercing him to turn his attention back to you. You’re giggling and smiling at Helion, cheeks flushed with a blush. Azriel flushes too but for an entirely different reason. Helion has your hand in his, amber eyes holding you captive, as he’s slowly lifting it up to his lips. 

Shadows are coiling softly around your wrist and before Helion can kiss your hand, your hand is being pulled away from his. Helion’s brows furrow, hand falling to his side as one lone shadow floats in front of him. He is not fluent in shadows but the way it writhes at him gives one clear message.  

”Oh, hi!”

Azriel watches, taking note of the small fond smile that forms on your face as you recognize the dark tendrils wrapped around your arm. Your eyes find him almost immediately and then you’re walking toward him.   

“Azriel, what are you doing here?”

“Shadowsinger,” Helion purrs in greeting, a pleased smirk on his face that grows at Azriel’s indifferent nod. “I was not aware you were coming too.”

Rhysand places a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft, black leather. Don’t say anything. Rhysand warns in his mind. We’ll talk somewhere else.

Rhysand forces a charming smile onto his face and Helion’s eyes flicker with interest. “I apologize for the short notice but Azriel is here to… escort y/n.”

“Escort?”

Both you and Helion say in unison. Though Helion’s tone carries mirth, yours carries shock. Confusion clouds your features, worry flickering in your wide eyes. Rhysand must’ve eased your mind, for Azriel feels the tension leave your muscles shortly afterwards. Still, you inch closer to him, as if seeking the comfort of his presence. He instinctively mirrors your movement, the blue siphons on his leathers brushing against your arm and gleaming in response.

 “You offend me, Rhys. I’ve welcomed you to my court with no ill intention.” Helion chides, though his voice is light with humor.

“y/n here is just very precious to us,” Rhysand says, choosing his words carefully. “I hope you can understand.”

Azriel’s shadows whisper the details of the scene around him, noting the apologetic look Rhysand sends to Helion. The High Lord of Day chuckles, but Azriel’s focus remains steadfastly on you. You turn to him with a questioning smile and he returns your smile, the warmth in his hazel eyes answering your unspoken question.

“I can see why,” comes Helion’s response, gaze lingering on you with an appreciative gleam.

Azriel’s head whips fast toward the High Lord of the Day Court and another sigh escapes Rhysand.

**

“Seven days. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s seven days too long, Rhys.”

Rhysand falters back, appalled by those words. He lets out a small laugh.  “Too long? Seven days is too long but a whole century wasn’t?”

“It hasn’t been a century,” Azriel hisses and Rhysand raises his brows. “It’s been eighty nine years. Besides, it’s different now.”

You’re his mate now.  

The mating bond had snapped into place with such force that he was still reeling from its impact. It was as if every emotion of his was amplified, sending a startling quiver through those golden threads in his chest. Jealousy jerked the most. It’s why every few seconds, his gaze flickered towards the hall you had disappeared into with the High Lord known for his scandalous appetites. One of his shadows had stayed with you and though he knew it would come back if Helion tried anything, it did nothing to ease him. He should be beside you right now. Not beside Rhysand, who seemed keen on keeping you from him.

“You saw the way she looked at you when you arrived.”

Azriel turned back to Rhysand, that image of you reappearing in his mind from Rhysand’s perspective. Surprise had flickered across your features, but like a passing storm cloud, it swiftly gave way to brightness. Your eyes sparkled, your lips curved into a fond smile. Without hesitation, you left Helion's side, drawn instinctively toward Azriel.  It was as if nothing else mattered but him, as if there was no one else in the world but you two.

The bond in his chest sings in delight because overriding all other emotions swirling madly around, there is love.

Azriel had loved you long before the bond’s sudden manifestation. His feelings had grown silently over the years, nurtured through shared moments and unspoken gestures. He knew he had to confess his feelings to you–something that had been eating at him for years. Eighty nine years to be exact, as he pointed out just a moment ago.

But fear always held him back.

Fear that he had mistaken your kindness for something more. Fear that he would ruin the decades of friendship you two had built. Fear that you loved him but not enough to see past his scars.

He realizes now how ridiculous those fears sound.

The kindness you harbored for him was not the same kindness you showed others. Your friendship was strong and precious, something he would fiercely protect no matter what. Your hand always sought his, never showing disgust towards the marred roughness of his own. You had even dedicated so much of your time to researching Prythian’s herbs and treatment for burns, working with Madja to make a special concoction–a soothing balm to alleviate the inevitable pains. 

By the Mother, he was a fool and it took the bond snapping into place to realize it.

“Yes. You both are.”

Now, the golden threads in his chest urged him to confess, to bridge that small lingering distance between you–

“But you can’t. Not now.”

“Get out of my head,” Azriel snaps, glaring at his brother.

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re thinking so loudly,” Rhysand replies, a touch defensively. “Look, y/n has been looking forward to this trip so much. If you tell her about the bond, it will consume her every thought and cloud that brilliant mind of hers. I know this is selfish of me but I need her to be focused and you to be patient.”

Azriel’s glare wavers. He knows how much this trip means to you. It was the first time Rhysand was entrusting a task upon you outside of the Night Court’s borders. Getting to see the magnificent library of the Day Court was also all your bibliophile heart could talk about. His desire to protect you and respect your focus battled fiercely with his yearning to tell you about the bond.

“Seven days?”

“Seven days,” Rhysand confirms, the tension easing from his face. “Then, she’s all yours. Just be patient.”

Azriel scoffs. “I’ll be so patient.”

But as they both join you and Helion for dinner, something tells Rhysand that this is going to be a long week.

**

Helion had hosted an extravagant feast for you all last night, even bringing out his finest, aged whiskey to celebrate. He had toasted it to Azriel, the surprise guest, with a cheeky wink. When his flirtatious efforts went ignored, Helion had turned his affections toward you. A notion that left Azriel seething and Rhysand on guard.

After dinner, Helion had given you a brief tour of the palace and introduced you to the fae you encountered along the way. To Azriel’s relief, the room he’d be staying in was right across from yours. His shadows had eagerly scouted the halls and both your rooms, becoming attuned to every creak and sound as an extra measure of safety. They fell asleep before he did and were the ones to wake him up when they heard you shuffling around your room.

As Azriel laces his leathers, the dark tendrils rush toward his door, peeking out underneath. It seems they are just as eager as he is to see you.

“Good morning!” You chirp happily, practically buzzing with excitement as you greet him at his door. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” A lie. Your joy is so contagious it’s easy to mask his exhaustion, his smile matching yours. “Did you?” 

He had, in fact, not slept well.

How could he when his anxiety began to gnaw at him? Because what if you grew tired of waiting for him within these seven days and gave into Helion’s charm? Each time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed with images of you reciprocating Helion’s advances, and sneaking off into his chambers in the middle of the night...

You give a noncommittal hum in response, pulling him out of his inner turmoil and bring him back to you.

 “I’m really glad you’re here, Az.”

Azriel’s shadows mirror your enthusiasm. A faint blush takes over his cheeks as you grasp his hand to tug him along with you. “Rhys has private business to attend to with Helion and I did not want to do this alone,” you say, waving your bucket list in the air with your free hand.

Of course, you had a list of things you’d like to do in Day. It instilled another fear into Azriel because what if you fell in love with Day and refused to go back to Night? He eyes all the bullet points on that list of yours and refuses to let himself make that fear come true.

Anything you loved here, he would make sure to remind you that the Night Court could do better.

“And who better to spend the day with than my loyal shadowsinger, right?” You remark with a playful glint in your eye.

“Right,” Azriel replies and there’s a brightness in his heart at your words. My loyal shadowsinger. His shadows dance in agreement.

But there is one thing the Night Court can’t replicate, a truth he reluctantly acknowledges as you both step outside into the warmth of the sun. 

A radiant smile breaks out on your face as you bask in the bright sunlight. Its golden glow kisses your skin, highlighting every feature he adores.

His leathers are not meant for this type of weather. He can feel himself growing hot, his shadows already endlessly working to keep him cool. Though you were dressed in something lighter than him, a pale blue dress, some of them flit toward you to do the same.

Azriel allows you to pull him along, savoring the feel of your hand in his. The cobblestone streets of the Day Court’s market are narrow, flanked by vibrant stalls and lively vendors. He tucks his wings tightly against his back to avoid brushing against the bustling crowd. His grip on your hand is firm. He tells himself it’s to ensure he doesn’t lose you amidst the sea of fae, but deep down, he has no intention of ever letting go.

Your first stop is a quaint little shop that, according to your research, sells the best espresso in Prythian. Azriel prefers his coffee black but you convince him to try Day’s specialty, a honey lavender latte. 

You watch him, awaiting his response.

“I hate it,” he tells you, though it’s surprisingly good. Really good.  “Velaris has better coffee.”

You take your drink back with a shrug as you head to your next stop. The flower market. As you stroll through the market stalls, you point out a cluster of flowers, your voice tinged with excitement as you describe their origins and meanings. You’re like a living encyclopedia and Azriel has always admired this about you. He asks you more questions, even if he already has the answers. Just so that he can see the light in your eyes dance with every word you speak.

A beautiful pink blossom catches his eyes as he’s read about it before, already familiar with its meaning. An idea sparks into his mind. Maybe, if he starts dropping hints, it’d make his impending confession go smoother. He tugs on your hand gently. “And this one?”

“It’s a pink camelia. A symbol of love, adoration and longing.”

He tosses a coin to the merchant and then picks the prettiest pink camelia among the bunch. He tucks it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The shadows that cling to him, hiding from the sun, peek out from above his shoulders, stirring in anticipation as you look up at Azriel and smile.

“y/n, I–”

His words hang in the air, the tendrils too distracted by you to notice the merchant approaching. Suddenly, a hand appears between you both, golden bracelets dangling before your eyes. “A pretty bracelet for the pretty lady?” the fae male asks. “They’re one of a kind!”

Your eyes widen as you take in the shimmering jewelry. “How much?”

“Ten coins,” the merchant replies, but as his eyes roam over you, he adds, “But for you, five.”

“Okay,” you agree, not having the heart to say no.

You reach for one of the gold bracelets, its chain holding a gleaming sun made of amber in the center. Before you can even open your coin purse, Azriel shoves ten coins into the merchant’s awaiting hand, his glare sending the man skittering away.

“Thank you,” you say to Azriel, struggling to clasp the bracelet around your wrist. Azriel gestures for you to let him help, and you do, watching the subtle furrow of his brow as he fastens the hook. “But why did you give him ten coins? He said five…”

“I didn’t,” Azriel lies smoothly for the second time this morning, and when your eyes narrow in suspicion, he simply smiles and tilts his head toward the right. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the art gallery if we want to make it to the water fountain show in time?”

That gets you going.

Your hold on his hand tightens as you lead the way to the art gallery. There, you’re captivated by the various amounts of artwork from Day, one of them being a very detailed and very naked sculpture of Helion. Azriel can’t help but remind you of the beauty of the Rainbow of Velaris, tugging you along, using the water fountain show as an excuse to get you to leave quicker. 

Afterwards, you visit a bookstore and many other stores, discovering that the bracelet on your wrist was not one-of-a-kind. They are available in various stores, each offering different variations. Instead of feeling disappointed, you find one specially for Azriel. Its chain is silver, adorned with a glimmering moon made from moonstone, a perfect complement to your amber sun.

By the time you both return to the palace, the sky is painted with hues of twilight, signaling it’s almost dinner time. 

“Thank you for helping me carry all my stuff,” you say with a sheepish grin, glancing at the bags scattered on your floor, most of them filled with gifts for the rest of the inner circle members since they couldn’t come along.

“Of course,” Azriel replies with a soft smile, his eyes warm. He had refused to let you lift a finger.

Standing on your tip-toes, you aim to kiss his cheek but underestimate the height difference, your lips landing on his jaw instead. The touch has the same effect. Azriel blushes, his wings twitching slightly, and his shadows snicker behind him. He hopes you can't hear them.

“Are you sure–” he clears his throat “–are you sure you don’t need help packing them up too?”

Your eyes light up and then you’re pulling him into your room. Unfortunately, no more kisses came from that. However, the shared smiles and easy conversation made it all worth it.

Be patient, he reminds himself. But he can't help but think of the golden threads unraveling in his chest, giving them an experimental tug. There’s no response, yet he hopes that yours will entwine with his any day now, binding you together forever.

**

As the golden, morning light of the Day Court bathes the grand hall, Azriel waits for you to enter the place where you'd have breakfast together. When he hears your approaching footsteps, he turns.

Suddenly, he finds himself unable to think. Unable to breathe, even.  

 You were beautiful. He was well aware of this, always has been. But today, you were absolutely stunning, like a goddess descended from the heavens. 

The dress you wore was different from your usual Night court dresses and though it screamed Day court fashion, Azriel couldn’t bring himself to care. The delicate ivory, flowing fabric draped elegantly over your body. His eyes trace every detail of the dress, from the plunging neckline to the high slits that reveal the soft and inviting skin of your legs. There’s a tightness in his throat when he catches a glimpse of the gold garter adorning your thigh.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile, a hint of shyness in your eyes despite the boldness of the dress.

"Morning," he barely manages to say.

“Good morning indeed,” Helion purrs as he appears behind you, Rhysand at his side.

Azriel, captivated by your beauty, barely registered the expression on Helion's face. Meanwhile, his shadows moved with a protective instinct, delicately brushing against your legs as if to shield you from Helion's lingering gaze. 

As you approach him, Azriel's heart continues to hammer against his chest. He musters up a smile. Though small, it’s full of admiration and awe. 

Helion chuckles. “My oh my, Rhysand. I did not know your Shadowsinger was capable of smiling.”

Rhysand lets out an amused exhale. His tone is light but it carries a subtle warning. “He’s capable of many things, including patience.”

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw as he falls into step with you. He doesn’t notice the small frown that takes over your features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, voice sweet despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

You shake your head in protest. “You look all hot and bothered.”

Azriel chokes on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“You’re already sweating,” you explain to him, reaching up with your free hand to brush his dark curls away from his forehead. His wings flutter in response to the surprise touch. “And it’s barely morning. Come on, you’re not wearing those leathers today. I’m sure Helion left some clothes for you too.”

Azriel heats up at the mention of Helion’s name, his mind briefly flickering to the thought of the High Lord leaving such a dress for you. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it further as you tug him back toward the room he’s staying in, mumbling about how Azriel has a death wish for wearing such thick clothing in the Day Court.

But it’s the High Lord of the Day Court who has a death wish, Azriel thinks.

“We won’t be long!” You call over your shoulder to Rhysand and Helion, who both give a dismissive wave.

Helion shakes his head in amusement. “Are they always like this?”

Rhysand lets out a snort. “Unfortunately.”

“Come. Let us have a drink. I believe we’re in very much need of one.”

“This early in the morning?”

“My friend, have you not had orange juice and champagne? Such a lovely, delightful combination. I call it a mimosa…”

**

Back in Azriel's room, you rummage through the clothes Helion had left for him. His eyes soften as you continue to fuss over him. Though he complains about it, he secretly loves when you fuss over him. He has to peel his gaze away from you when you bend down to pick up a top, his thoughts threatening to drift elsewhere if he doesn't.

Hot. Bothered. His shadows repeat your words from earlier to him and he eyes them with a glare.

Despite Helion’s wish for Azriel to wear a toga like he proudly does, Azriel is relieved at what you picked out for him. He’s also touched that you know him well enough to pick something close to his taste.  “Here,” you say, holding up a pair of loose fitting dark trousers and a sheen, flowy white top with a deep v neck similar to the one of your dress. “This will be perfect for today.”

“Fine,” Azriel murmurs, reluctantly taking the garments from you. Your fingers brush against his, sending a spark through him.

“I trust you can dress yourself from here,” you tease, giving him a playful pat on his shoulder.

Azriel lets out a scoff, resisting the urge to reply with a roguish remark. He quickly changes into the clothes you picked out for him, not wanting to cut into your breakfast time any more than necessary. Today is a busy day for you, as you will spend most of it in the library, researching all about the death gods for an assignment Rhysand gave you.

When he steps out of the room, your eyes light up as they look over his body. His muscles flex instinctively when your gaze lingers on the tattoos swirling on his chest. You blink, and with a smile say, “Radiant.”

Azriel feels the blood rush to his neck. He’s received many compliments before but never something as bright as “radiant.”  He suddenly yearns to hear more–only if they come from your pretty lips.

“Y/n, have I ever told you how much I—” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity, and he loses his resolve, Rhysand’s warning echoing in his head. “—appreciate you…”

Those were not the words Azriel had intended, and he lets out a defeated breath. Yet, your smile does not falter. Instead, you hook your arm through his, beaming up at him as you guide him through the halls.

“I believe you have but please, enlighten me again…”

**

Helion’s gaze fixes on you and Azriel as you finally joined them for breakfast. Dressed in resplendent Day Court fashion, the two of you look ravishing, and Helion cannot decide who is more captivating–you or the stoic shadowsinger at your side. 

His affections have always met a brick wall with the Illyrian male. So naturally, when another pretty face shows up at his court, he focuses all his attention on you. He savors your sweet reactions and Azriel’s jealous ones, sensing more between you two. He’s determined to unravel it.

After breakfast, Helion sidles up beside you, flashing a charming smile. “Allow me to admire you more closely, Lady Y/n,” he says, his voice smooth and rich as he extends his hand.

Azriel’s jaw clenches, his shadows swirling restlessly when you take Helion’s hand. Helion’s smile widens, and then he gestures for you to spin. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

You gasp, eyes widening in delight and cheeks tinting with a delicate blush. “You know Shakespeare?”

“Know it? I live it.” Helion responds. “I have his original copies in my personal library. You can come take a look, if you’d like. Just give me a day to…organize things.”

Azriel’s eyes narrow, not liking the intonation in the High Lord’s voice. Helion can feel that primal instinct–the possessiveness Azriel feels for you–simmering beneath the surface. His eyes widen slightly in acknowledgement and then he’s turning to Rhysand.

"Helion,” Rhysand drawls, confirming his suspicions. “As y/n’s escort, you're making Azriel's shadows rather restless.”

Helion laughs, a rich, melodious sound that fills the room. "I can't help it if your historian is so captivating, Rhysand," he says, winking at you and delighting in the response it shakes from Azriel.

**

Azriel falls into step behind you as Helion guides you all toward the magnificent library of the Day Court. Sunlight streams through towering windows, casting rainbows across the marble floors. You had praised it as the biggest and most beautiful library in all of Prythian. As Azriel stands in front of the entrance, he reluctantly acknowledges that none of the libraries in the Night Court could come close if this is just how the entrance looks.

As Azriel moves to step inside with you, Rhysand stops him.

"What are you doing?" Azriel huffs, peering over Rhysand's shoulder to catch a glimpse of the awed expression on your face as Helion talks to you. "I'm Y/n's escort, remember?"

“There’s no need for one in the library. You’ll only be a distraction here.” Rhysand replies and sensing his apprehension, he adds. “She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

“But–”

“No,” Rhysand interrupts and Azriel’s gaze hardens. A playful glint dances in Rhysand’s violet eyes. “Go take a walk, a cold shower or perhaps, read up on some poetry.”

 With that, Rhysand enters the library, motioning for the guards to shut the door. As the door closes, a single dark tendril manages to slide through. 

I don’t resort to poetry, Azriel thinks bitterly and he swears he hears Rhysand’s chuckle in his mind.

**

That night, during dinner, Helion took all your attention as the two of you quoted and mused over poetry, Rhysand chiming in occasionally. Azriel remained silent, a muscle ticking at his jaw.

The following morning, Azriel didn’t get a chance to speak to you much either. You and Rhysand were deep in discussion, strategizing how to tackle the vast array of books about the old gods. Azriel hadn’t even finished his coffee when you abruptly stood from your seat, mouth still full of food, and hurried off towards the library. The golden threads buried deep in his chest stirred with your passion.

So while you spent your day in the library, engrossed in your research, Azriel decided to spend his day doing his own research. He had his shadows sneak into your room and retrieve one of the poetry books he is certain you bought with you. You read one every night before bed.

Azriel reads some of the poems, engraving the words into his memory, just in case. He ends up falling asleep in his room, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. His shadows stir him awake, hours later, pointing to the clock hanging across from him. It’s almost dinner time so Azriel freshens up and then makes his way toward the library. 

“Hey, you,” you greet Azriel happily, two of his shadows trailing behind you, as you step out of the library. The second one had joined you this morning as the first one had been feeling lonely. “I think they like me better than you.”

“Keep them,” Azriel shrugs. When you're not looking, he gives them a knowing nod, though his voice feigns annoyance. “Traitors.”

“What did you do today?” You ask, falling into step beside him as you two walk toward the dining hall. “Anything interesting?”

“I learned something.”

“Yeah?”

Azriel turns to you, his expression serious as he clears his throat. "She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright... uh, meet in her something…eyes…?"

You blink at him, confusion furrowing your brow. "Something eyes?"

Before Azriel can explain, Helion chimes in, that cheeky grin plastered on his face. "It's 'Meet in her aspect and her eyes,’" he corrects smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, as he beckons for you to take your seats.

Azriel shoots a glare at Helion and Rhysand kicks him under the table in warning. Helion chuckles, unfazed by the death stare coming from Azriel as he continues. 

“She walks in beauty, like the night. Of Cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

“Oh, Lord Byron!” you say in recognition, turning to Azriel with a look that soothes his embarrassment. “She Walks in Beauty. What a lovely poem. Did you know it was one of my favorites?”

“I didn’t,” Azriel replies casually, though inwardly his heart races and his shadows race to cover the blush delicately tinting his neck. Of course he knew it was your favorite. You had scribbled hearts all over the page in your book. “I just liked it and thought I’d share it with you.”

Your smile widens, touched by his gesture. “I thought you didn’t fancy poetry, Az.”

“I thought the same,” Rhysand says, eyes narrowing at Azriel.

"I'm full of surprises," Azriel says dryly, meeting Rhysand's gaze evenly.

“Well, let’s hope it’s the last of your surprises.”

“I believe I also have some of Lord Byron’s works. How about I finally show you my personal library after dinner?” Helion speaks, directing all attention back to him.

Azriel opens his mouth to protest, not liking the inviting gaze in the High Lord’s eyes, but Helion interjects smoothly. “No worries, escort, ” Helion says, his grin widening. “I’ll take good care of y/n.”

Azriel sulks, a bitter taste in his mouth from Helion’s effortless charm throughout dinner. He tries his best to keep you from leaving, insisting you try every single dessert laid out on the table. Barely halfway through, you slump back in your chair, claiming you can’t eat another bite without bursting.

His ears perk up and he sends a small prayer to the Mother that your full stomach dissuades you from visiting Helion’s personal library, his own stomach not being able to handle the thought. Tonight, it seems The Mother does not favor him. When Helion offers you his arm, you take it excitedly, oblivious to the sulking Shadowsinger you left behind. 

Rhysand laughs, finding amusement in the entire situation, while Azriel shoots him a cold stare. If Rhysand hadn’t ordered Azriel to keep the truth of the bond from you until after your trip here, you wouldn't be alone with Helion now. 

Yet, Azriel can't help but bitterly reflect that if he had only been upfront about his feelings from the start, he wouldn’t be tormented by such longing now, the bond in his chest roaring at the thought of you with another male.

“I think y/n is more than capable of handling a flirtatious High Lord.”

Azriel’s lips twitch into a brief, reluctant smile. “She is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Cheer up, Az,” Rhysand teases, lifting his glass in a mock-toast to his friend. “There’s always more poetry to practice. Or perhaps, you should stick to brooding. You’re much better at that.”

“Pass the whiskey,” Azriel replies tersely, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“Patience is a virtue, Az.”

“So is silence.”

**

You’re swooning, over the moon, after exploring Helion’s personal library. He showed you his special editions of Lord Byron’s and Shakespeare’s works, allowing you to take one back to your room with you to read. You clutch the book to your chest, humming softly to yourself.

When you reach the hallway, you linger there for a moment, sparing a glance toward Azriel’s room. The night is still young and you’re surprised to see no light seeping through the door. Has he gone to bed already? Worry knits your brows as you wonder if he’s okay. He has been acting strange since he arrived. He had quoted poetry at you for Cauldron’s sake!

You walk toward his door and knock. There’s no answer so you knock again. “Az?”

You frown when you’re met with silence and your hands itch to open the door but you hesitate. He could either be asleep, out flying or out training. He had been eyeing the training grounds of Day during Helion’s tour.

With a sigh, you step into your room and decide to get ready for bed, making a mental note to check up on him in the morning. The day had been long and filled with unexpected twists and tomorrow would only bring another long day. Your eyes were tired from reading so much fine print.

As you're fluffing your pillows, you hear the sound of heavy, booted footsteps. Your mind wanders to Azriel but it can’t be. His steps were always quiet, silenced by his shadows. There’s a pause in the steps and a brief moment of stillness.

Abruptly, your door swings open and you let out a small gasp.

You watch as Azriel stumbles in, your heart flying to your chest in relief. His usually graceful steps falter as if the weight of his massive wings is too much to bear. Shadows cling to his wrists, doing their best to keep their master steady.

A look of pleasant surprise softens his features when he spots you, his hazel eyes widening at the sight of you in your nightgown. He brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing it in an attempt to make the flush spreading across his cheeks go away.

“Y/n,” he hiccups with a pleased grin. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, stifling a laugh at his adorable state. “This is my room.”

Azriel’s expression morphs, his eyebrows furrowing and a slight pout forming on his lips. “Didn’t get to spend the day with you,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he sways slightly. “Or night… you spent it with Helion instead.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you jealous, Az?”

Another hiccup. “Maybe.”

Your stomach flutters at the way he admits it so openly. The two of you have always had a playful, flirty dynamic. It had never gone beyond exchanged glances and lingering touches, though. Azriel never let it, and a part of you feared it was because he was too kind to reject you outright. Now, you begin to wonder if you had misinterpreted the situation all along.

“Well, it’s still night,” you tell him, “And you’re here with me now.”

“I am,” Azriel acknowledges with a hint of surprise, as if realizing it anew. “And I know poetry too…”

 He straightens up, attempting to appear serious again despite the slight slur in his words. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height... uh, something about sight, I think?”

Did he somehow know this was another of your favorites? It seems unlikely. In all the years you've known him, Azriel has never shown interest in poetry. Or at least up until two hours ago. You should check his forehead. What if he was coming down with something?

Instead, you clear your throat and help him out.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee–” your voice wavers at the look Azriel gives you, his hazel eyes shining with an emotion that threatens to weaken your knees. “–to the level of every day’s. Most quiet need, by sun and candle light…”

“I love thee too,” Azriel breathes, holding your gaze and stepping closer to you. “Freely–purely…no, freely as men strive for fight.”

“Right,” you correct with a laugh. “Freely as men strive for right.”

Azriel’s pout deepens, yet there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbles.

He continues to make his way toward you and you hold out your arms, worried he’ll lose his battle with balance. He ends up slumping face-first onto your bed, his wings splaying out behind him. “Can I stay here? Just for a little bit. I missed you all day.”

“Yeah,” you reply with a soft smile. You missed him too. “But can you make room for me on my bed?”

“Mmm,” Azriel hums, turning on his side. He pats at the space right in front of him, his shadows moving to rest behind him to give you space. “Come here, my pretty historian.”

You feel a rush of warmth course through you, momentarily flustered by the nickname. Looking at Azriel, you hesitate. It wouldn’t be the first time you two shared a bed but it’d be the first time you’d share one in a bed not meant to accommodate for Illyrian wings. 

Maybe, it’s best if you help him to his room. Your eyes look toward his shadows and you notice them slowly curling around his back as if going to sleep themselves. They would be no help and neither would Rhys as you were sure he was sharing his night with a pretty fae or two. And you would definitely not be able to carry Azriel back to his room on your own.

So when Azriel pats the bed again, you join him. He frowns when you don’t nestle against him as he wished. Instead, you slip under the covers, resting on your side to face him fully. He adjusts to mirror your position, close enough that you feel his warm breath, noses and hands brushing against each other.

“You smell good,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Marry me?”

You smile, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Is that all it takes to marry you? To smell good?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter close, a contented sigh escaping him. “I’d marry you, even if you didn’t smell good,” he says, his words mumbled but filled with affection.

Your heart swells and you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, feeling exhaustion come over you when Azriel yawns. 

“Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he murmurs, already drifting off to sleep, a peaceful smile on his face. “My sweet, pretty ma–”

A shadow, one of the ones that have taken a liking to you, crawls over you and rushes to Azriel, curling around his mouth to silence him. You are too tired to think about it, simply letting sleep claim you in each other’s comforting presence.

**

Azriel wakes up with a soft groan, still enveloped by your scent. His shadows stir as he does and he hesitates opening his eyes, not ready to face the aftermath of his drunken state. The impending headache is already breaking the surface. When he opens his eyes, he finds you missing. His worry is eased when one of his shadows brings a small piece of paper to him.

He shifts, moving into a sitting position. One hand rubs at his head while the other takes the note you left for him. 

To my star breaking poet, you looked too peaceful to wake. I left some water, tea and bread on the nightstand. Enjoy.

-your pretty historian

His lips tug up into a smile. He turns his head, finding the drinks and food you left for him. He doesn’t dare touch them though, despite the bond in his chest yearning for him to. He then searches for the clock in your room and his eyes widen. It’s past noon. Azriel has never slept this late or felt so rested, especially after a night of heavy drinking. 

Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to fall back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. He lingers there a moment longer before finally rising and heading to his room to bathe and get ready for the day. Knowing you'll be in the library all day, he wonders what to do with himself, having given up on poetry after his unsuccessful attempts.

**

Azriel makes himself busy by wandering the palace, feeling a bit uneasy walking so freely in the open. He’s so accustomed to blending into the shadows that this exposure feels unnatural. His shadows cling to him, hiding beneath his cloak, equally uncomfortable with the brightness. The day is cooler, so he’s donned his leathers, a small part of him hoping you'll fuss over him again when you see him.

He visits the markets, but they seem less vibrant without you by his side. He then goes to the training grounds of Day, catching up with his missed training and releasing his pent up frustrations with a training dummy. Upon returning to the palace and washing up, he heads towards the library. Though he can’t enter, he knows there are small tables and padded chairs just outside. He found you there during one of your breaks yesterday, so he sits at one of the tables, hoping you'll come again.

A newspaper rests on the table before him, so he picks it up to pass the time. After reading through it twice, he moves to a different table with a chess set, his shadows engaging him in a game. After losing to them three times, he leans back with a sigh. He really should’ve brought some of his unfinished reports to work on.

Overcome with the bond, he had followed you without hesitation, not anticipating that Rhysand would keep him from telling you about it. He didn't have a plan, so while he wasn't happy about it, at least it gave him time to come up with one. The minute you’d go back to Night, Azriel was set on visiting your favorite restaurant and making reservations. He’d surprise you with a day full of your favorites, ending it with his confession, where he hoped you would accept him. 

It was one thing to love him back. Another to accept him as your mate.

Before he knows it, the sun begins to set, his shadows buzzing with life as darkness takes over. You still haven’t stepped out of the library. He wonders if you've eaten or had enough water. One of his shadows slips out from underneath the library doors and flutters back to him. It reports that the other shadow, still with you, helped you reach for books and turn pages. It had even wanted to brush your hair back when it fell loose from your tie but was met with an invisible force. High Lord, the shadow hissed and he realizes Rhysand knew him better than he thought. That unwanted chaperone…

When he learns you've skipped lunch, his worry deepens. He paces back and forth in front of the grand doors, his heart aching with the intensity of the bond. Every instinct within him urges him to protect and care for you. Unable to hold back any longer, he takes advantage of the darkening sky and slips into the library.

The shadow that had reported to him leads the way, darting ahead. His other shadows eagerly rush forward, reaching you before he does. They greet the lone shadow that had stayed by your side like long-lost friends reuniting.

Azriel’s heart calms when he finds you asleep, slumped over a desk and surrounded by a mountain of books. You're curled into yourself, goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of your arms. He gently removes his cloak from his leathers and drapes it over you.

You instinctively snuggle deeper into the cloak, half asleep. “Smells s’good,” you murmur, and the bond in his chest tightens.

He gently removes your glasses, the ones you wear when doing prolonged near work, and places them carefully into one of his pockets. There’s a faint glimmer surrounding you and he’s relieved that whatever barrier Rhyand had placed upon you was weakening by the second. Almost like clockwork. He easily breaks through the magic shield, blue siphons gleaming. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his shadows sighing in response.

His touch lingers on your face, thumb ghosting over your cheek.  “It’s time for dinner.”

You let out a groan in protest, not wanting to move from your spot.

“You need to eat, Y/n,” he whispers softly. “And then, you can go to bed.”

You blink sleepily at him. “Will you carry me?”

“Of course.”

As he lifts you into his arms, your warmth and the scent of your hair envelop him. The bond in his chest thrums with joy, his shadows harmonizing in response.

Three more days, he reminds himself. Three more days until he can finally speak of the feelings swelling in his heart. Be patient…

**

After another day of researching death gods, your mind feels heavy with overwhelming knowledge. Exhausted, you keep to yourself during dinner. You can feel Azriel’s worry, can feel the way the shadows that linger in your presence caress the back of your neck in an attempt to ease you. Rhysand slips into your mind and after assuring him you were just tired and had a headache, he lets you excuse yourself. Helion, ever the caring and doting High Lord, sends you off to bed with a tea to soothe your headache.

You’re quick to wash up and change into your nightgown, slipping under the warm covers with the tea Helion gave you in hand. It has a rich floral scent and as you take your first sip, it brings instant relief to the dull ache in your head. When you’re done, you place the empty cup onto your nightstand and lay down, closing your eyes.

You find yourself trapped in a dark, oppressive forest. 

The trees are twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. In the distance, you hear the sinister laugh of Koschei, the death god who you've learned loves to trap women. His voice is a chilling whisper, echoing through the trees, “You cannot escape me.”

Suddenly, the scene shifts, and you’re back in the Court of Nightmares, having to suffer through another court affair. Your hair is pulled so tight into a bun and the corset of your dress barely gives any room to breathe properly. The oppressive atmosphere presses down on you, taking even more of your breath away. You’re standing before your father, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“You will marry Lord Berbrooke.”

“No,” you whisper, eyes widening in fear as Lord Berbrooke appears at your father’s side. Your hands reach for your father’s arms, a desperate attempt to stay with him instead of leaving. You’d much rather continue to endure a life of neglect and solitude than a life that promised violence and bruises.

“Grandfather wouldn’t want this.”

Your father yanks his arm out of your grip, staring you down with a glare. “Your grandfather is dead. It does not matter what he wants.”

Fear grips you as Lord Berbrooke steps closer, a predatory smile on his face. You try to run, but your feet are rooted to the spot. He laughs, the sound chilling you to the bone. It morphs into the sinister laugh from earlier. Lord Berbrooke’s face flickers and shifts, morphing between his own and what your mind imagines of Koschei.

Panic surges through you, and you cry out for help, but your voice is swallowed by the darkness.

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps. Goosebumps prick your skin as the sinister laugh echoes in your mind, refusing to fade. Panic grips you, and without a second thought, you throw off the covers and rush out of your room, desperate to escape the haunting sound that seems to follow you.

**

Something deep in his chest stirs, flooding him with unease. The bond. Something is wrong. Azriel’s head instinctively turns to his door, shadows sensing your presence in the hallway. Though small and quiet, he can hear your pacing and sense your hesitation as you face his door.

Azriel rushes to the door immediately and opens it. Concern etches on his face as he takes in your trembling form, the way your hands are covering your ears and eyes stricken with pure fear.

His hands reach for yours, gently removing them from your ears. Your eyes remain frantic, scanning over him, as if trying to discern if he is real or not. Without another word, Azriel pulls you into his arms, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, and you cling to him.

“I had a nightmare,” you whisper, pulling back slightly and looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “About Koschei, and then I was back in the Court of Nightmares. My father… Lord Berbrooke…”

Azriel’s eyes darken with anger and protectiveness. You don’t need to say any more for him to understand. “You’re safe now,” he says firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words and the strength of his embrace begin to calm the storm inside you. You bury your face in his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Can I stay with you?”

“Always.” Azriel answers and then he’s guiding you into his room.

He helps you to his bed, tucking you under the covers before carefully settling on the other side. You nestle closer into his chest, your head finding its place against his heart again. His chin rests atop your head and neither of you speak for a while.

“Thank you,” you breathe, voice heavy with emotion.

Azriel knows your thankfulness extends beyond tonight. He had been the one to save you from that dreadful fate that night in the Court of Nightmares. He had been the one to bring to Rhysand’s attention of your grandfather’s forged will, helping you search for the real one. And when Rhysand had moved you to Velaris, Azriel had been your first friend.

“Do you feel better or would you like me to make you–”

“I feel better,” you interrupt, not wanting him to leave, even if it's to make you another tea. “Just your presence is enough,” you confess quietly. “You have a way of making me feel safe and at peace, Az.”

At those words, Azriel feels like he might burst with emotion. He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.  If only you knew…

**

As you walk through the library of the Day Court, you take one last look around, letting your gaze sweep over the grand space. The high, arched windows allow streams of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow on the polished marble floors. There are rows upon rows of polished wooden shelves and books of every size and color line them, their spines creating a mosaic of knowledge and history. The scent of parchment and old leather, is one you’ll always hold dear.

Tonight is your last night here. A trail of shadows follows you, blending into the shafts of the light and shadows cast by the towering bookshelves. Rhysand, lounging in the entrance of the library, notices the once unusual sight that has now become routine.. 

“What are you, a Shadowsinger now?” he quips.

You glance back, catching a glimpse of Azriel’s shadows entwined with your own. They’ve become increasingly protective of you lately, always trailing close, whether you're heading to the library or simply going about your day. What you hadn’t noticed until now was how their numbers had grown since last night.

“I’ve never seen his shadows act like that,” Rhysand comments.

“Oh really?” 

Rhysand nods, a glint dancing in his eyes. He gives a small wave to one of the tendrils peeking over your shoulder, lips curving upwards when it cowers away.  “They usually stick to him, rarely leaving his side. It seems you’ve captured their interest as you’ve captured their master’s.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his implication. “I guess they like me,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rhysand’s grin turns knowing. “It’s more than that, Y/n. Azriel’s shadows are an extension of his will. They’re drawn to what he cares about most.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I suppose I should thank them for showing me such care.”

Rhysand chuckles. “Or thank Azriel.”

**

Rhysand’s words linger with you throughout the evening, much like Azriel’s shadows. A spark of hope blooms in your chest, daring to blossom into something more. You knew Azriel cared for you, but caring for others was in his nature. That’s who he was—caring and protective.

You glance at the shadows caressing your arms, a pensive frown tugging at your lips. In all the years you’ve known him, you had never seen his shadows linger on Rhysand or Cassian. Or Mor, who you were so sure held the Shadowsinger’s affections. 

You recall the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the rare smiles he reserved only for you, the protective glances he shot your way whenever danger was near. Your heart races as the pieces start to fit together, a mixture of shock and elation coursing through your veins. Dare you hope that the man you had loved in secret for so long might feel the same?

The idea seems almost too good to be true, and yet…his shadows were here, with you, wrapped around your fingers. Quite literally. 

You look down at the shadows twining with your fingers, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time, you allow yourself to entertain the possibility. 

With this newfound hope, you head toward the Day Court’s kitchen. 

After praising the chef one night, he invited you to his kitchen, offering to teach you how to prepare some of the Day Court’s delicacies. Eager to express your gratitude to Azriel for always being there for you and to Helion for being a gracious host, you decide to finally take up on the chef’s offer. Perhaps, you can even sneak in some of Azriel’s favorites into tonight’s menu.

**

As it was the last night of your stay, Helion had invited close friends and other allies of his court, filling the grand dining hall with laughter and conversation. You quietly took your seat across from Rhysand and beside Azriel, murmuring a soft greeting. Helion winks at you and the shadow around your arm tenses.

The High Lord of Day stands from his seat, at the head of the table. He raises his glass with a broad grin. “A toast to the Night Court, our cherished guests. It has been an honor to host you all, and I sincerely hope we may have the pleasure of your return soon.”

Everyone at the table raises their glasses, including Azriel—though only after a nudge from you. His expression remains flat and dry as he lifts his glass. You clink yours against his with a teasing glint in your eyes, coaxing a small smile from his lips.

Helion takes a seat and with a wave of his hand, tonight’s feast materializes in front of you. There’s a slight raise in Rhysand’s brow, betraying his mild surprise. Every single platter–from the appetizers to dessert seems to be a perfect blend of Day and Night delicacies with the names to match. There’s the bruschetta, the bread slices topped with sun-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and a hint of night garlic. Then, there’s the spinach artichoke dip made from sun-infused spinach, blended with moon-cheese and served with nightshade vegetables.

Rhysand looks up, turning to Helion. “Compliments to the chef.”

Helion’s eyes twinkle with delight as he meets your gaze.  “And y/n,” he says. “She collaborated with the chef to create tonight’s dinner.”

You smile, a touch of pride warming your cheeks as you look around the table. However, the smile quickly fades when you hear a sudden spluttering. It’s Azriel. He spit his food out, his face a mask of horror and conflict. 

“Azriel?” you ask in concern.

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his voice suddenly tight.

Your face flushes and a nervous laugh escapes you.  “Relax, it’s not poison,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. But your attempt falls flat. 

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats more forcefully, then turns and leaves the room, his movements stiff and tense.

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears, the hurt and confusion overwhelming you. You slump back into your chair. “I don’t think I’m hungry either,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Rhysand nudges your foot from under the table. “Don’t mind him,” he says softly, violet eyes filled with sympathy. “Please, eat. You’ve worked so hard on this.”

You nod, trying to muster the strength to lift your fork, but the sting of Azriel’s rejection is too much. You push the food around your plate, your appetite completely gone. The evening that had started with such promise now feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by whatever tension has now befallen between you and Azriel. 

In the corridor outside the dining hall, Azriel leans against the wall, his heart pounding. He knows he’s hurt you, but the thought of unintentionally accepting the bond is too much for him to bear. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of the fragile line he’s been walking.

One more night, he reminds himself. One more night and then he can tell you everything.

He can only hope you don’t already hate him for tonight.

**

Tossing and turning, you let out a long breath as you stare up at the ceiling. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you hadn’t indulged in the dinner you had put so much effort into crafting. How could you, when the one person you made it for refused to have even a bite? 

His reaction had been as clear as day. Repulsed.

Now, doubts flood your mind. What if you've completely misread everything? The shadows beside you, initially a source of comfort, were beginning to stir unsettling thoughts in you. Maybe Azriel sent them not because he cared so deeply for you but out of obligation and pity?

You're not a High Lord like Rhysand, nor a warrior like Cassian or Mor who fought in the war. You’re just a noblewoman from the Court of Nightmares who fled from a forced marriage. How typical and utterly helpless. That’s what you’ve been since you met Azriel.  It shouldn’t have shocked you that he followed you into Day Court. 

Any hope that had blossomed in your heart now withers. You were a fool to even entertain the thought. You’ve known Azriel for almost a century and in those years, he’s never hinted at seeing you as anything more than a friend so why would it change now?

Throwing off the covers, you sit up abruptly, gaze flickering towards the door. The urge to confront him grips you fiercely. He did not have to return your feelings but he didn’t have to hurt your feelings so harshly by spitting out your food. You had to settle whatever this was now, even if it left you broken-hearted. 

Without bothering to change out of your nightwear, you leap from your bed. The shadows on your bed stir awake and your footsteps quicken, fearing his shadows would reach him before you could.

They beat you to it, even going as far as opening the door for you, allowing you to barge into his room. You’re not surprised to see Azriel wide awake. His shadows must’ve warned him beforehand. He sits on his bed, already facing you and you hate the way your gaze falls to his bare chest. Your eyes trail up the intricate tattoos etched there, slowly making your way up.

The words catch in your throat. You’re nervous. A foreign feeling around Azriel. It makes you want nothing more than to turn and run out the door. His shadows shut the door behind you as if sensing your thoughts.

You refuse to meet his eyes, fearing what you’d find in those hazel depths. “You hate me don’t you?”

The words tumble out unexpectedly, sending a chilling shiver through you. His gaze flickers downward, catching the way you nervously fidget with your fingers, before lifting with intent and searching for your eyes. 

“What?”

The sound that leaves Azriel borders on what sounds like amusement, and you cringe, turning your head away. Tears prick your eyes, his shadows rushing to wipe them away gently, coaxing your gaze back to their master. When his eyes meet yours, all you see is concern. 

A strange sensation creeps along your ribcage as he stands from the bed, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel states firmly and when his words don’t soothe you as he expected they would, he frowns. His hands replace the shadows brushing against your face. “What makes you think that? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question,” you laugh humorlessly, casting your gaze down. “Something has gotten into you. You’ve been acting so differently, and at first, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought as I seem to be wrong every time–”

“It does matter. Tell me.” 

It’s now or never. Your throat tightens as you muster the courage—the last bit you have, having used most of it to barge into his room. 

“We’ve been walking a fine line, you and I. For decades. Almost a century... And now, I realize you’ve simply been too kind to reject me. I’m sorry if running to you after that nightmare was too much, but did you have to spit out my food? I would’ve preferred if you’d just told me you didn't like me instead of showing me.”

“You’re not making any sense right now.” Azriel says.

“Neither are you.” You shoot back.

“I don’t hate you,” Azriel repeats, hurt flashing across his face at the thought of making you feel that way.

“You spit out my food in front of everyone, Az.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

You feel Azriel’s hand tense against your face. “I can’t say.”

Your breath hitches, and you take a couple of steps back, removing his hands from you. “Because you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes shut tightly for a moment, his head turning toward the window. He feels the faint warmth of the rising sun and inhales deeply. There’s something burning bright in his eyes when he looks at you again.

“Because you are my mate.”

Mate.

A vulnerable shakiness accompanies the word. The words hang in the air, heavy and shocking. The feeling teasing at your ribcage begins to crawl upwards. Your heart skips a beat as it meets your chest, awakening something deep inside you that you hadn’t realized you had.

Mate.

“I’m your what?” You gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as the golden threads of fate begin to unravel.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Azriel approaches slowly, his expression tense and cautious. “You’re my mate. The bond snapped as you were winnowing away. That’s why I followed after you. I wanted to tell you, but Rhysand asked me not to. At least not until we were done here.”

Your racing heart sinks into your stomach. More tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision.  “So you don’t want me as your mate either…”

“No,” Azriel’s eyebrows knit together so hard you worry they’ll stick, shadows swirling around him like storm clouds. His hand reaches out for you but you take a step back.  “I’m happy it’s you. Relieved. I’ve loved you for so long...”

Your tears fall freely and he takes another deep breath, wings shuddering along with the timber of his voice. “Gods, do you know how agonizing these past days have been for me? Watching you fall in love with this court, with—” He hesitates, unable to say his name “—it’s High Lord.”

His words ignite a spark within you, fanning the hope that had begun to take root in your chest.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fall in love with this court," you begin and Azriel gives a subtle wince, looking away from you. "But Day is not my home."

Slowly, Azriel looks back at you, and a torrent of emotions floods over you. You're uncertain if they are yours or his, as the bond between you surges like a turbulent river.

“The Night Court is. That’s where my family is. That’s where you are. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even Prythian’s best library.”

Azriel’s eyes soften and when he takes a step forward, you don’t step back. A glimmer of hope lights up his features.  “And what of it’s High Lord?”

“He’s nice but he’s not you.” You say with a soft smile. “I love you and only you.”

Azriel cups your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours. The smile that breaks out on his rivals the brilliance of the rising run behind him. “I’ve admired you, desired you for so long…I just didn’t want to rush you and when the bond snapped, I feared it’d overwhelm you."

You look up at him, the raw honesty in his eyes reflecting your own emotions. “So, what now?”

Azriel brushes the last tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent. “Be mine?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Always.”

And then you kiss him, the bond between you shimmering and glittering. A tangible, golden connection intensifying with every heartbeat.

a/n: I don't like the way I ended this 😭 not my best tbh, I just feel like it was missing something. I honestly wasn't expecting the high demand for a part two to Be Safe so I hope you enjoyed some of this as much as the first part. Anyway, here's a little meme I had made for this fic while I was procrastinating on finishing it.

here's a bonus scene.

tag list (tagged all those who commented and reblogged with tags, in case you wanted to read more. sorry if I missed some!): @jswizzlewrites , @hellodarling1357, @fxckmiup, @pricklepearbloom,

@tothestarsandwhateverend, @mika-no-sekai-blog, @cherryjain17, @illyrian-dreamer,

@darlingbravebelle, @katherinejess, @lady-of-tearshed, @daisesarelove, @beardburnsupersoldiers

@assriels, @sunshinepeachx, @buckyandgeraltsupremacy

@brieflyclassymortal, @thesunloveschips, @silver-flames-47, @ladybirdbeetle7, @everythingacotarbxm1012

@starlitlakes, @mxtantrights, @itsallacotar, @mother-above, @andreperez11

@coolepowersthings, @littlebookbengal, @lipstickmarks, @aneekapaneeka, @harrypottergirl162

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

@the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human

[smallndsoft]

tw: somnophilia

i’ve had to work late for the past few nights and that means i’ve gotten less time with you.

like the last night and the night before that, i get home late again. all the lights are out as i pull my truck into the driveway.

i let out a long sigh as i open the driver door. dragging myself up the driveway, i unlock the door and open it as quietly as i can.

“fucking hell,” i mumble to myself as the screen door squeaks. i’ve been meaning to oil the hinges so it won’t make any noise, but i haven’t had time. maybe tomorrow.

my eyes are somewhat adjusted to the pitch dark house as i drop my keys on the table by the door. i walk down the hallway and into our bedroom.

kicking my shoes off by the doorway, i smile tiredly at your sleeping figure splayed out in bed. the covers are barely on your body, only covering up to your ass.

“thank god you don’t like wearing clothes when you sleep,” i mumble as i strip my shirt and work pants off.

leaving my boxers on, i slip into bed beside you. the bed creaks just a bit but it’s not enough to wake you up. i lean over and press a gentle kiss to the back of your head, inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo.

you look so peaceful, your bare back and your smooth ass on perfect display. my hand gently traces down your spine and lands just below the curve of your ass.

i grab you, kneading the smooth flesh there. you barely stir from this, only stretching out more for me. almost instinctively.

i had no intentions of doing anything tonight. i’m so damn tired and you’re already fast asleep, but the way you’re spread out for me is an invitation i can’t pass up.

scooting close to you, i throw my right leg over your left, spreading you out just a little more. my hand trails down further, my fingers barely touching your puckered hole before they rest on your cunt.

“oh bunny,” i breathe out, a small smile on my lips. “were you waiting for me?”

you’re dripping wet, indicating that you fell asleep playing with yourself, too tired to finish and too tired to wait for me to help you.

“that’s okay. i’m here now,” i whisper against your skin, my lips tracing against your upper back.

i let a strangled breath out as i slip my boxers off. tossing them carelessly onto the floor, i crawl over you.

“oh fuck,” i moan out. i rub my cock between your ass before i sit back, positioning myself at the entrance of your cunt.

i’m already panting despite not even having entered you yet. i lick my lips and stroke myself a few times before i slowly push into your went cunt.

it’s tight, but the way your sleeping figure is swallowing my cock sends my thoughts spinning. i have to close my eyes despite the darkness.

i keep pushing until i feel my hips pressed against your ass. i stay still for a moment, letting myself take a few deep breaths before i start to slowly thrust.

it’s been days since we’ve fucked but it feels like months. “fuck i’ve missed this, bunny,” i mumble.

i start slow, my grasp on your hips gentle as the soft sounds of my hips hitting your ass fill our bedroom.

after a few more gentle thrusts, i need more. the primal urge to fuck you and fill you is too much.

all at once, my grip on your hips tightens and i start to thrust faster and harder. the sounds of skin on skin becomes louder and more lewd.

a thin layer of sweat forms on my forehead as i use your body for my pleasure.

surprised that you’ve stayed asleep this long, i chuckle softly when you start to shift. i feel your cunt squeezing my cock, signaling that you’re starting to become aware of the situation.

“shhh. you’re okay, bunny,” i whisper as i keep ramming into you.

you don’t bother trying to look back at me as i thrust into your tight hole. burying your face into your pillow, i smile as moans and whimpers spill from your lips.

“need you so bad, baby. i’ve missed you so much,” i pant out.

the tension in my lower belly builds quickly. any other day and i’d be embarrassed that i’m on the verge of cumming. since i’ve not fucked you in days, i feel less embarrassment.

“fuck fuck fuck,” i chant out, my grip on your waist tightening as i get closer to the edge.

“i’m gonna fill you up. gonna take my load like a good bunny, right?” i grunt out.

you just give me a dazed, half-awake nod as you clutch onto your pillow.

the sight is everything i’ve wanted to see these past few days and despite the exhaustion i feel, all that’s on my mind is filling you. breeding you.

“oh fu-uck,” i moan out. in an instant, my body stiffens, my hips flush against you as i feel my orgasm ripple through me. “shit, bunny. take my cum. fuck.”

a shiver rolls through me as i dump the last few drops of my load into you. breathing heavily, i let go of your hips. i keep my cock firmly inside you as i lay on my side, pulling you flush against me.

my cock is twitching inside of you still but i keep lazily thrusting inside you, just wanting to feel as much of your tight heat as i can.

“go back to sleep, bunny. i need to use your little holes a few more times.”

[hollandsangel]

move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

wc: 1k

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

[rafesangelita]

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 when you tell rafe you love him for the first time, he shows you just how much he reciprocates it back.

warnings: established relationship, super sweet fluff, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, first time together, soft sex, vanilla sex, sooo much praise, oral (f. receiving), guided masturbation, handjob, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, pre-ejaculation (rafe couldn’t help himself), multiple orgasms

a/n: i don’t know if it’s the weather change but i’ve just been in a really soft mood as of lately :( i would appreciate it soooo much if you partook in this little poll here <3

wc: 2.0k

a few months may not be considered enough time to fall in love with someone, but with rafe? the feeling felt like it was overdue. especially during times like this, when his hands roamed your body and left a trail of burning desire in its wake. “r-rafe..” you couldn’t help the sound from leaving your lips when you felt just how hard he was in his jeans. “mmm— what’s wrong?” he pulled away, staring down at you as you nervously avoided his gaze.

eyebrows pinching together, a concerned expression took over your boyfriend’s features as he sat up, dragging you onto his lap as he did so. “hey, are you alright?” rafe took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. your heart soared at the little action, a smile gracing your lips as you nodded. “yes, it’s just.. i’m really happy with you. you’ve been so amazing to me and so romantic, and i love that— i love you.” rafe froze, his jaw clenching at your words.

sensing a shift in his demeanor, you felt a slight raise of panic as he blinked, his eyes flickering up at yours. “i’m sorry, it’s probably too soon—” you scrambled, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “what did you say?” rafe rested his hands on your hips, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “that it’s too soon—” you started, “no, before that.” rafe loved seeing how flustered he made you, the worried look on your face only making him ache for you even more.

“..that i love you?” rafe nodded, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you closer to his chest. “do you really?” he started trailing kisses down the curve of your neck to your shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as he started dragging your hips up and down his lap. you whimpered at the friction, your arms wrapping around his neck as you reveled in the rough denim of his jeans grazing against your clothed clit. “yes, rafe, i love you.” you repeated, a groan rumbling from his chest.

rafe loved you long before you two started dating, so hearing those three simple words leave your mouth was enough to drive him crazy. “i love you too, more even, if that’s possible..” he whispered against your skin, your perfume intoxicating his senses. you sighed in relief, a gasp leaving your lips when rafe groped you through your dress. “been waiting for you to say that to me,” he spoke through kisses, “i would’ve said it first, but i didn’t wanna scare you away.”

you shook your head, hips still grinding against his. “scare me away?” you giggled, “yeah, right.” rafe laughed, pulling away only to admire you. he still couldn’t believe that you were his. apart of him felt undeserving of all of this, but you made it so easy for him to feel this way, he couldn’t imagine things being any different. eyes trailing down your chest, rafe swallowed thickly as his fingers slipped under your dress. “can i show you how much i love you?”

you took your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding softly as he slid your dress off, leaving you in nothing but the lingerie set you picked out just for him. “you’re so fucking pretty..” you shivered when rafe pulled the waistband of your panties, the material snapping against your skin. your fingers worked to get rafe out of his pants, the sound of his belt coming undone made butterflies erupt in your tummy. rafe took off his shirt, tossing the article of clothing in the corner.

despite seeing him shirtless a countless amount of times, it didn’t change the fact that you were ogling his muscles like it was first time all overs again when he first approached you at the beach some months ago. glistening gold skin, chiseled abs, and a prominent v-line? you were smitten from the start. rafe got up once you got his jeans unbuttoned, his hands taking yours as he had you sit on the edge of his bed. “see what you do to me?”

your eyes fell down to where he pulled the rest of his clothing off, your lips parting slightly when his length sprang up against his stomach. just when you thought he couldn’t be any more perfect, you stared wide eyed at the sight in front of you. wrapping a hand around your own, you gasped when he palmed himself, your skin meeting his. “the second i went up to you and you looked at me with those eyes of yours, all i could think about was this very moment.” rafe groaned.

you began stroking him, his eyebrows knitting together as his jaw went slack. your hand felt so much better than his by a million times. “yeah?” you teased, a shy smile gracing your features. rafe nodded, picking up the pace of your shared movements before resting his free hand on your shoulder. “f-fuck!” rafe pulled away with a grunt, his eyes growing dark as he zeroed in on your figure. you watched as he got on his knees before you, spreading your thighs open with a curse.

“shit, i need to taste you, babe..” he ran a thumb up your soaked cunt, “make you cum on my tongue.” you whimpered at his words, your chest rising and falling as he slid the lace material down your legs. you shuddered when he sat back to take the view in, his stomach caving in when he spread apart your glossy folds. “rafe..” you whined, feeling exposed as he reveled in the sight of your glistening slick shining under the dim light of his room.

rafe leaned down, pressing wet kisses to your inner thighs before locking them to his shoulders. taking a deep breath, your mouth fell open in a silent moan when you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your sticky center before meeting your needy clit. rafe circled his tongue around the sensitive bud, the sensation making you jolt in pleasure. “oh, my god!” you nearly shrieked when he kept repeating the action, your hips instinctively attempting to move away from his face.

“don’t run baby, i’m gonna take such good care of you..” he whispered against your flesh, splaying one of his hands across your tummy. being held in place while rafe ate you like a man starved had you absolutely hysterical. so much so, that rafe couldn’t help himself in letting one of your thighs go so he could stroke himself while bringing you closer to the edge. “so fucking perfect, i’ve dreamt of eating this pussy.” you cried out when his tongue slipped inside your entrance.

eyes fluttering closed, your hand came down to wrap around his fingers, a string of moans leaving your lips. rafe was determined to make you reach your peak, the slight trembling in your thighs being the telltale sign he needed to know you were going to cum soon. you babbled, your back arching off of the mattress when the band in your stomach snapped, a choked sob ripping itself from your throat. rafe let go of his cock, forcing your thighs to stay open.

you had tears running down your cheeks, the white hot pleasure blinding your vision. “rafe!” you screamed, sitting up on your elbows as you shook in his hold. rafe’s eyes flickered up to meet your gaze, the sight ingraining itself into his brain forever. teary eyes, plush lips, flushed skin, you were absolutely gorgeous like this. “you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.” the sound of rafe’s voice brought you out of your post-orgasm bliss, your hands pulling at his.

“please, i need you!” you cried, welcoming him between your legs where he took your lips in a searing kiss. you moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, your eyebrows knitting in confusion when you felt something wet on your stomach. pulling away for a moment, you looked down, your eyes widening as rafe followed your gaze. “did you..” rafe groaned, beyond embarrassed at the mess coating his cock. “what the fuck?” he stammered, “i swear that’s never happened before.”

rafe couldn’t believe he cummed without having to be inside you. you cupped his face, shushing him as you wrapped your legs around his waist. while he was mortified at the fact, you thought it was the hottest thing ever. “s’okay.” you pecked his chin, moving up to his lips where he melted into your touch. “yeah?” he swallowed thickly, his length sliding between your folds. “yeah,” you nodded, “i just want you.” rafe moved his hand underneath your back, unclasping your bra.

cursing when your tits spilled out of the garment, rafe lined himself up with your entrance before thumbing your bottom lip. “i fucking love you.” was the last thing he said before filling you to the hilt, bottoming out with ease as he rested his forehead against yours. you stayed like this for a few moments, rafe interlacing his fingers with yours before pulling out and sliding back in again. nails digging into his skin, your voice shook as you whispered a ‘i love you, i love you..’

rafe stroked the side of your face, admiring the way your eyes gleamed up at him, down to the curve of your nose, and the cupid’s bow of your lips. he was going to remember every single little detail about you so he could visualize it later in his dreams. “you feel so good, pretty girl,” he praised, “so soft and wet for me.” rafe’s thrusts were slow and long, the head of his cock kissing your cervix while you barely held yourself together. you couldn’t form a single thought, let alone a word.

the way you looked at rafe said everything he needed to know, a reassuring ‘shhh’ falling from his lips as your mouth opened and closed with a sentence sitting on the tip of your tongue. rafe kissed you, swallowing all the pretty sounds you made while he rocked into you, your heels digging into his back. you were in a daze, your vision growing fuzzy as you let rafe consume you. his moans were like music to your ears, the warmth of his skin making you feel whole.

to rafe this was so much more than just sex. this was real intimacy, the closeness, the pure, raw, unadultered display of emotion. he had never experienced anything like it. with you underneath him like this, taking him so fucking good, muttering his name like it was the only thing you had in that beautiful head of yours, he was in disbelief that you were able to find it in your heart to love someone like him. even though he couldn’t understand it, he’d never question it either.

“ray!” your scream snapped him out of his trance, his eyes finding yours as you practically thrashed against him, your second orgasm hitting you with more force than the first. feeling the way you clamped around his cock was otherworldly. you felt so fucking tight, all thoughts left his brain the second you whimpered a ‘please cum inside me..’ cumming twice in less than twenty minutes? you couldn’t be real.

“f-fuck are you sure?” his hips stuttered, his load threatening to fill you up any second now. you met his eyes, a silent plea for him to do what you asked. burying his face in the crook of your neck, he softly bit the flesh there as he stilled, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he painted your insides with his seed. you cradled the back of his head, pushing yourself impossibly closer to him as the hot ropes of his cum filled you up.

still going through the aftershocks of your previous orgasm, you couldn’t help but squeeze around his length, milking him for all he had before he littered kisses across your bare chest. running your manicured nails down his back, rafe stayed caging you between his arms, his thrusts coming to a slow stop. the only sounds in the room were your uneven breaths, both of you panting softly. “baby?” rafe sounded spent, his voice shaking ever so lightly.

you hummed, blinking slowly before looking down at his face. oh, he was so handsome. “did i already tell you i love you?”

[wolvietxt]

★ logan can’t sleep without you

a/n : shorter thoughts formatted like this now! (~800 words)

logan had spent the first hour lying still, one arm thrown over his face, trying to block out the dim light filtering in from the window. he’d turned over a few times, each time expecting to feel you beside him, your steady breathing lulling him to sleep, but the space was empty. cold.

he grumbled to himself, shifting his body again, tossing the blanket off because suddenly it felt too hot. you weren’t gone for long. just out of town for a few days, something you had to take care of. you’d kissed him before you left, told him not to worry. he didn’t. not in the way you probably thought, anyway.

but this... this wasn’t normal. he could feel the fatigue in his bones, weighing down on him like gravity, but sleep just wouldn’t come. his mind kept wandering back to the same thought. you. where you were, what you were doing. it wasn’t that he doubted you could handle yourself. hell, you were tougher than most people he knew. it wasn’t even that.

it was the goddamn silence. the empty space next to him where you should’ve been. it was all wrong.

logan rolled over again, eyes squeezing shut as if forcing them closed would somehow drag him into sleep. his body ached from the day’s work, muscles heavy and begging for rest, but his mind refused to follow. his thoughts were too loud, too restless. he’d grown too used to your presence beside him. too used to the way your fingers would brush against his skin unconsciously in the middle of the night, grounding him in that quiet way only you could.

he opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, voice low and rough. 

another hour passed with no sleep in sight, and his frustration was only growing. he shifted again, flipping onto his side and glaring at the empty space where you’d normally be curled up against him. 

the sound of the front door unlocking made him sit up quickly, heart kicking up a beat, though he’d never admit it. he listened as your footsteps padded softly into the room, and there you were - finally. you smiled at him, a bit tired but happy to be home.

“hey,” you whispered, setting your bag down quietly. “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you didn’t,” logan muttered, voice rougher than usual. he tried to play it cool, but he was already moving over, making space for you in the bed, his eyes glued to your every movement. “couldn’t sleep.”

you paused, giving him a curious look. “couldn’t sleep?” you repeated, pulling off your jacket and slipping into bed beside him. 

logan huffed. “don’t make a thing outta it,” he grumbled, but the second you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you against his chest. “just… missed you, is all.”

you couldn’t help but smile at how gruff he sounded, the way his words were soft despite the grumbling. “i missed you too,” you whispered, snuggling into him. you could feel how tightly he was holding onto you, something protective in the way his body curled around yours.

“yeah, well… don’t leave again,” he muttered, his hand coming up to brush the hair from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. he pressed a kiss to your temple, a little grumpy but undeniably affectionate.

“you got all needy without me, huh?” you teased lightly, expecting him to grumble back, but instead, he just pulled you closer, his face buried in your hair.

“maybe,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice barely above a whisper. 

your heart softened at his admission. it wasn’t like him to need anyone, let alone admit it, but there he was, holding onto you like you were the only thing that could give him peace. 

you smiled into the darkness, your fingers tracing small circles on his arm. “i’m not going anywhere.”

logan didn’t say anything else, just pressed his face closer to your neck, breathing you in, like that alone was enough to finally let him relax. within minutes, his breathing slowed, his grip around you loosening slightly as sleep finally took over.

you stayed like that, wrapped up in his warmth, his usual tough exterior softened just for you. and as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that despite all his grumbling, despite how hard he tried to hide it, he needed you as much as you needed him.

general taglist : @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @k1t-k4ts, @icurushasfallen, @eddxemxnson, @nickiinator

@chamomile-tea420, @rooroen, @spitfy, @cannon-writes, @platinumblondeedition

@cloudcandyala, @v3lv3tf0x, @california-boys-and-sun, @harleyyquinnsgf, @lemoanaid

@notacleangirl, @jabberwokee, @aetherthetrashpanda, @schrodingersjigsaw,

@t0mmy-th3-gh0st, @correnz, @fvhs-things, @kallmeweirdhprroe, @dugiioh

@thugbiscuits, @rosiahills22, @cassehtwah, @whxtewolf

[uzurakis]

hii! could you please do like after a really big argument it like gets to the point that the reader wants to break up with then and how they would handle it? i just request that choso is one of them<3

WANT US TO BREAK UP, YOU SAY?

featuring: choso kamo. gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi.

n. hi nonnie! thanku for the req. i usually don't write for choso, this is the first time i'm writing for him, i hope it doesn't stray out of his character. confession: i didnt proofread so.. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU

the room was heavy with silence after your heated argument. you stood near the desk, arms crossed, emotions swirling. as for him, gojo leaned against the wall, his sunglasses off, revealing eyes that bore into you with a mix of frustration.

"this isn't working, satoru," you fidgeted your nails and shifted your feet. "i think we should break up."

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you. "hell no," he said firmly, those blue eyes you know so well never leaving yours. "i'm not letting that happen."

you clenched your fists, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "you can't just decide that for me. we’ve been fighting constantly, and it’s exhausting.”

the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just in front of you. "we're not breaking up," he repeated, voice low and steady. "you're upset, i'm mad, and we had a fight, but that doesn't mean we break up."

tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "you don't get it, satoru. i can't keep doing this.”

he reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist. "you’re not leaving," he said, his tone softening but still commanding. "we can fix this. together."

you tried to pull away, but his grip held you in place. "toru, this isn't just about one fight.” then his grip changed into him interlocking his fingers with you. “we keep hurting each other…”

his expression softened, but his grip remained steady. "i know, and i'm sorry, darling. but running away won't solve anything. i love you, and i'm willing to fight for us."

NANAMI KENTO

nanami’s expression remained calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. he took a deep breath and walked over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “please, sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the couch. “we need to talk about this calmly.”

you hesitated, still seething with emotion, but his gentle tone made you relent. you sat down, crossing your arms defensively. nanami sat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to show he was there for you.

“why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice steady and soothing.

“like i said,” stating once again. unlike his, your voice cracked. “i feel like we don't have time for each other, not like we used to.”

he nodded, listening intently. “i understand,” he said, his tone even. “but breaking up isn’t the solution, sweetheart. we need to address it.”

nanami reached out, taking your hand in his. his touch was warm and reassuring. “every relationship has its challenges,” he said gently. “what matters is how we handle them. i believe we can work through this if we’re both willing to try.”

CHOSO KAMO

his eyes widened in shock, and before you could react, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you. his embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. “please, don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

you struggled against his hold, tears streaming down your face. “choso, don’t hold me back..”

he held you tighter, saying soothing words despite the urgency. “i know it’s been hard for both of us, but never say that, i don't want to hear you say that again.”

feeling the warmth and genuineness of his embrace, you drew in a shaky breath and found yourself losing resolve. “i just, i don’t know what to do with us.” your voice breaking.

choso loosened his hold just enough to meet your gaze, his love and concern visible in his eyes. “every relationship has its struggles, but i'm sure we both can overcome them. i love you, and i’m committed to working through this with you. so please, i dont want to give up on us yet."

he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. are you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend’s shocked eyes became wider. “what? no!” he took a step forward, expressing a mix of disbelief and urgency. “that’s not how you solve this problem.”

with a hand raked through his hair, he was clearly frustrated. "i understand that we've been fighting a lot, but splitting up isn't the answer. we have to discuss our concerns and work towards–”

“i’m fucking trying, okay?” you hurried to cut his explanation. “you always have a logical answer for everything,” biting your lower lip, is he seeing that you don't need reasoned answers? but simply, perhaps some reassurance? “but it doesn’t change how i feel. it hurts, and i don’t see a way out of this.”

megumi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “i’m sorry.”

“…”

“look, i need you to hear me,”

“i don’t want to fight either, heck, i’m too tired to argue,” he gently pulled you into an embrace. “but i don’t want to lose you. i can't promise you, but we can find a way to make this better."

"let’s be patient and work through our problems one step at a time.”

@uzurakis

[lale-txt]

❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso

a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!

word count: 1.4k

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.

[shmpxx]

CURSED SPIRIT — y.o

⛤ curse! yuuta okkotsu x fem! reader

yuuta okkotsu being your one and only curse.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampies. multiple orgasms. groping. dry humping. public sex-ish. fingering. slight oral (f. receiving). overstimulation. thigh fucking. somnophilia. possessiveness. yandere tendencies. mentions of violence. +18!

wc: 1.2k

a/n: inspired by @deviants-forest work! etc. (go check it out) also happy kinktober! :)

Curse!yuuta who creeps up your back, his hands finding your waist and his lips tickle your ear as he’s whispering how much he needs you on a subway train to home. “Not now…” you whisper over your shoulder to him trying not to be noticeable by others who crowded you and payed no mind, too busy on their phones. You bit your bottom lip when he presses himself against your ass in one movement already having your blood rush like crazy. You try to keep your composure like nothings bothering you but yuuta’s hard on humping into you desperately, whining in your ear and his cold hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boob. “need you ‘s bad” he was always touchy, could never keep his hands off you.

Curse!yuuta who doesn’t mind your sorcerer friends as long as they don’t get too close. Your friends can sense the heavy weight of cursed energy from you, even if they got close it was too much to bare sense yuuta was around, the air would fill thick and negative. You could barely go out with them to eat without his fingers buried in your cunt and playing your clit. They would ask you if you were okay when your head is down on the table but you just excuse it as you were not feeling well for a second but yuuta is grinning ear to ear, amused how your well your taking his slender fingers, curling them inside and you can’t help but squirm in your seat acting like your stomach is just hurting though you were about to orgasm. “Please yuuta..” you whisper to him “Come on you can cum on my fingers..” his raspy tone sending you shivers down your back.

Curse!yuuta who watches an “old friend” hug you, his hands in places that shouldn’t be. After you would praise yuuta for staying calm but yuuta would give shake his head only because you would be upset if he did anything and simply gave you a warning “Next time I’ll break his arm” “You can’t be serious” you sigh, you always knew he was.

Curse!yuuta who clenches his fist watching some prick try to flirt with you in front of him knowing he can’t be seen. Even the second time you reject him you can feel yuuta’s anger grow by the second that in any moment he would take action. “I-i have a boyfriend-“ praying yuuta doesn’t get violent “I don’t see him?” His hand coming up to touch your shoulder now he’s on the floor shouting in pain, blood from his broken nose all over his hands, shaken up that he didn’t see anyone hit him? Was he going crazy? “Pathetic” Yuuta mutters luckily he held back a lot, he could do so much worse and this wasn’t the first time.

Curse!yuuta who gets anxious that you might hate him when you get into arguments. He feels like he can’t exist without you, he’s nothing without you and the thought of you hating him makes his heart sink and scared that he’ll be all alone. He didn’t care about anyone else he just needed you. The amount of times you got tired of telling him not to hurt people and you could handle the situation yourself. He’ll plead you not to hate him and apologized excessively. “We can talk about this tomorrow” his stomach sinking by the tone of your voice that it will all end up to you hating him. He couldn’t stand the feeling.

Curse!yuuta who wants to let you know how much he loves you and how much he needs you, praying you don’t leave him or hate him. He glares at you in your sleeping state though he can’t wait til tomorrow he needed you to know now. “Please don’t hate me” “i love you so much” as he’s softly kissing your neck on each side, peeling your panties off. The cold air makes your cunt clench at his sight. He’s kissing the inner of your thighs sweetly and his lips makes contact with your pussy and a small whimper emits from your mouth. “Yuuta” you utter half sleep thinking it was only a sex dream, you were a heavy sleeper at that. he’s burying his lips between your folds trying to get more like he was so starved. If he can just make you feel good you won’t be mad at him and you can forgive him.

Curse!yuuta who can’t wait any longer, his dick pulsating through his pants even how much he gets drunk off your pussy, he loves the taste of it every time but he’s rutting against the mattress. Brings your thighs together to slip his cock between, throwing his head back letting out quiet moans as his cock is rubbing against your clit between your thighs. Your eyelids almost twitching open. He spreads your legs apart and sinks his dick into you watching your pretty lashes flutter at the sudden pleasure of you being spread apart. “Yu..?” You begin to stir awake, he kisses your lips before you start to fully take consciousness. “I don’t want you to hate me” “forgive me please” as he’s thrusting harsh inside you and swallowing your lips. By the time your walls were the shape of him every time he used you so it was easy for him to slide right in, you were made for him and he was made for you was the thought that brought him comfort. His fingers entwines with yours, his cock continuously rubbing hard in your insides. “Yuuta!” You moaned beautifully in his ear, your hand clawing at his back, yuuta loved it, it didn’t hurt him because you could never hurt him he didn’t mind it.

Curse!yuuta not wanting to stop, he’ll never get tired of cumming and filling up your pussy. You’ll be overstimulated begging him to stop it was awfully much to handle, you couldn’t cum anymore but you did as he’s plunging his cock in your abused cunt. The choke sobs and sounds of squelching filled the room “Need you-need you tell me you love me…please f-forgive me..ah!” Rubbing your clit increasing more nerves. “I-i love you yuuta! Ah-I really do! I could never be mad at you” Your words lifting weight off his chest still pounding into you. Holding you in a warm embrace to finish inside you. When he did filling up your womb one last time with his string of cum, your nails dig into his back letting your last orgasms crash into you. You let out a cry into his shoulder, your body trembles.

Curse!yuuta who needs constant reassurance you’ll never leave him, placing gentle kisses on each part of his face. Even though he’s nothing but a curse to you, being invisible to the outside world, Has a hard time showing remorse it’s just what he does to protect you, he somewhat doesn’t know that but knows he can be a bit possessive he just can’t help the urges of anyone getting close to you or worse even laying a finger.

Curse!yuuta bending you over the counter in the morning as you were trying to make yourself breakfast, last night was rough you were a bit sore but yuuta still misses your pussy. “Just a quick one I promise! I miss you so much! I’m just displaying my love for you—“ he pushes himself inside your worn out cunt from last night once again, you whimper at the feeling each time he rolls his hips when his balls slap against you. His hands reaching to your tit, massaging it in his palms. You don’t think you could ever break the curse from yuuta okkotsu.