#HOW TF DID I DO THIS WITH MY FINGER

[sea-jello]

I WANTED TO TRY POSES AND SPIT THIS OUT??? WHAT THE FUCK

[moralchampion]

My dad is actually such a fucking cunt like I knew this would go wrong at some point but damn didn't expect it to be like this

[agayconcept]

.

[hoshigray]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong… 

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko. 

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life. 

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men. 

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing! 

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,”  he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste. 

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better. 

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends — a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?” 

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe?  You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder. 

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get. 

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating! 

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight. 

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you! 

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence. 

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?” 

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him. 

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. “Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss. 

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again. 

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris. 

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!” 

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.” 

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.  

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips. 

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again. 

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…” 

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him. 

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm. 

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower. 

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: the hashira men as boyfriends

characters: tengen, sanemi, giyuu, rengoku, muichiro, obanai

AN: i don’t write for gyomei srry

TENGEN

- this isn’t just a little fling

-mans doesn’t wanna be ur bf

-he wants to be your HUSBAND

- and he’s gonna make that happen ASAP

- and when y’all get married you’re not just getting a husband

- ur getting 3 wives too

- it’s a package deal

- overprotective!!

- the way he made his wives promise to prioritize their lives over the mission

- my heart was bursting

- carries u around

- when tengen is around ur feet hardly ever touch the floor

- doesn’t matter how big or tall u are

- he’s bigger and taller

-he's big all over if ykyk

-nicknames include: sweetheart, princess, baby

- and don’t think he’s saying those to be cute

- he’s absolutely mocking you

-which brings me to…

- this man teases the HELL out of you

- but with love

- he loves you just as much as he loves his wives

- in his mind ur alrdy married

- and he is NOT letting you go

- or letting any harm come to you as long as he can help it

- 4 lifer fr

- id marry him

SANEMI

-i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again

-he’d tear it UP

-and i’d let him

- loves you so much

- doesn’t show it in public

- but in private?

- clingy as fUck

- he’s like ur shadow fr

- will follow u around all day

- hands on ur waist

- arm around ur shoulder

- holding ur hand

- he will not let go of u when ur alone

- in public he’s a lot less touchy

- but he will still stand near you

- jealous af

- every slayer knows by now to stay tf away from you or face the wrath of the wind pillar

- you belong to him

- makes sure they know it

- makes sure you know it

-hickey MASTER

-no i will not elaborate

- everybody knows sanemi is a little rough around the edges

- so there are days when it’s hard for him to open up to you

- but he does try

- he’s got a reputation to keep up!

-gotta act tough

-no weaknesses!!

- except for u

-he’s so soft for u he can’t help it

- nicknames: dumbass, idiot, & feather (my personal favorite)

-like i said he is almost always physically connected to u in some way when ur alone

-ignore him? he's throwing u over his shoulder

-he's strong he can manhandle u all over the place

-sheeeeeshhhhh manhandle me however u want sir

-claims ur super light no matter ur size

-hence the nickname "feather"

-i love him

GIYUU

-ik damn well this man had EVERONE in a chokehold from the first second he showed up

-speaking of chokeholds... ;)

-put me in one pls sir

-anyways

-awkward as fuck

-but he tries for u

-terrible with physical affection

-but we all know he's SOOO touch starved

-you'll have to initiate any type of physical touch

-and make sure he's not uncomfortable

-but really there's nothing he wants more than to touch you

-takes a very long time to say "i love you"

-but can u blame him??

-every good thing the poor man has ever had has been ripped away from him :(

-because of this he's veryyyy protective

-cause he'll be damned if the last person he has that accepts him and loves him for all he is

-is hurt or killed

-100% will die for u without a second thought

-not really a nickname type of guy

-remember he's awkward as hell

-most you'll get is a "-chan" attached to ur name

-and even that is only when y'all are alone

-but still

-even if he doesn't always show it

-you are always on his mind

-he's on a mission and walking through a market?

-he's buying you a hairpin or som

-walking through a forest and sees some flowers?

-"i wonder if she'll like these"

-AND HE'S PICKING U A BOUQUET

-ugh soft for bf giyuu

RENGOKU

-sunshine boy!!!

- epitome of golden retriever boyfriend

-all smiles all the time

-follows u around like lost puppy

-shows off for u

-yk when ur around kids and they're like "watch this" and then they jump and spin a circle lmao

-thats him

-"did you see what i just did?!"

-if u didnt...

-he's doing it again

-wants to impress you so bad

-also you will never have to lift a finger in his presence

-service bf!!

-you need the dishes washed and the floor swept?

-he's on it

-you need help styling ur hair?

-welcome to rengoku's hair salon

-will attempt to dress you in the morning

-and by dress you, i mean he's tugging ur shirt over ur head

-zipping up ur pants

-and tying ur shoes

-brags about you to anyone and everyone

-the other hashira can't have a single conversation with him without him bringing you up somehow

-compliments compliments compliments!!!

-he loves you and isn't afraid to show it

-nicknames from him: my love, my beautiful girl, sweetheart

-constantly confessing his love

-also lowkey speaks poetry for u

-some shit like

-"my light in the darkness, the one who gives me strength, you set my heart ablaze just by allowing me the privilege of seeing your smile"

-ugh he's the sweetest baby

MUICHIRO

-my airheaded angel baby

-i love him sm stop

-baby boy has a terrible memory

-that we alrdy knew

-but!

-he tries so hard for you

-keeps a little journal with notes and information about you

-so if he forgets he can remind himself over and over

-when he's on missions away from you he reads it so he can think about you to pass the time

-can not and will not remember anniversaries

-unless they're written in that journal

-will pick u flowers

-hope ur not allergic cause he's not gonna remember that

-but it's the thought that counts

-the fact that he's thinking about you at all counts

-you wanna go on a date?

-your dates consist of watching the clouds and taking naps together

-maybe a picnic if ur lucky

-no nicknames from him

-he calls you by your name

-its all he can remember

-he's the cutest

OBANAI

-like sanemi, he's a lot less affectionate in public

-however, he's not afraid to express his thoughts about you

-at least not to the other hashira

-might not be glued to your side

-but he's got eyes on u at all times

-and someone is talking about you?

-the second he hears ur name leave somebodies mouth

-he's tuned in

-and they better not say anything negative either

-mans turns murderous

-they will wake up to a snake in their bed

-will prob threaten them within an inch of their life

-don't have to worry abt other people while he's around

-cause he's got everything

-and i mean EVERYTHING taken care of

-protective but not pushy

-i feel like obanai trusts you and your ability to handle yourself

-but thats not gonna stop him from watching over you

-you're not drinking enough water?

-here comes obanai with a cup and u better drink it all

-haven't had lunch yet?

-he's sharing his with you. and will force feed u if need be.

-on a mission with him?

-he's not gonna push u behind him or anything

-but nothing is gonna get the chance to bring any harm to you either

-he's got ur back

-he's pretty vanilla with the nicknames

-nothing too crazy

-especially in public

-mostly uses ur first name

-might add a "-chan" in there every once in a while

-when ur alone he'll call you "sweetie"

-acts like a hard ass

-but he's soft for u

[shawtuzi]

you’re the bad boy that i’ve always dreamed of ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹

here’s a little something of how plug!geto and reader went from strangers to lovers!! this will contain smut and some drug use so mdni thank yewww <3 pairing: plug!geto x black coded reader///wc:3.2k

STRANGERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• it was a friday night when suguru received a message from you on instagram asking for a 3.5–just from the message alone he could tell it was your first time doing this. it was cute the way you added exclamation points and a smiley face at the end of your message.

• the first time he saw you he was starstruck. it’s not even like you were dressed up, just a simple black tank top and some pink juicy couture shorts. the way you were so soft spoken and smelled so damn good—oh he wanted you, he needed you. thus began the long game of suguru trying to pursue you.

geto’s first impression of you: so damn pretty, smells like vanilla n for some amazing reason cookie dough, on the taller side, one of the most gracious people he’s ever met while dropping off some weed—srsly you said ‘thank you so so much!’ like four times before he even handed it to you, a little on the awkward side but he likes it heje.

your first impression of geto: drives a nice ass car, pulled up blasting partynextdoor so he must have good music taste, the longest n most prettiest hair you’ve ever seen on a man—you couldn’t help but wonder if it felt as soft as it looked, a little on the intimidating side but you did get a small smile out of him and mannn did he have a pretty smile, will definitely be messaging him again soon.

• the second time he dropped you off some weed he put in a little extra bc of as rn you were his favorite customer regardless if it was only your second time shopping. this time he made a little conversation:

“i like your hair, suits you really well,” it was a very mesmerizing burgundy color, reaching almost towards your bottom. you of course were very taken aback, your cheeks feeling like someone set hot coals on them. you picked at your denim skirt, trying to avoid his gaze. “thank you suguru i, uh, got it done this morning. i wasn’t so sure about the color when she finished but i’m starting to like it more and more!” you gave him a little smile, which he gratefully returned. geto scaled your weed one more time before giving it to you, his fingers brushing against any part of your hand/wrist he could touch.

“so you know how to roll?” he asked, using the elastic on his wrist to put his hair in a bun, you had to physically restrain yourself from giving it just a little touch </3 you puffed air from your cheeks, shaking your head, “nah i just use this pipe my friend gave me i’m not quite an expert at that yet.” suguru’s smile got wider at your words, now he had the perfect excuse to get you to smoke with him. he ran his tongue over his lips, a shiny ball on the center of his tongue catching your attention. “you should let me teach you how to do it sometime—ah, i mean if you want you don’t have to,” and that was the first time suguru heard you laugh and that sound might’ve gotten him higher than any strain he’s ever smoked.

“i’d love for you to teach me!”

• the third time you both saw each other it was not transactional, just a simple hotbox session. he taught you how to roll up and although it was very sweet of him to do so it was very hard to concentrate. his hands—which were both tatted tf up moved so swiftly as he packed the blunt and rolled it. don’t even get me started on the way he sealed the blunt with his tongue, there was something so sensual about it especially with the way he was looking at you. you both learned a lot about each other that night, and that my friends was the start of a beautiful friendship.

FRIENDS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• you and geto hanging out became a regular occurrence. he no longer charged you for weed, instead he would just send you on your way with some after each smoke sesh. every time he saw you his crush only got bigger and bigger, and he was sure he was starting to become not to subtle about it.

• every morning you woke up to a good morning text from him, followed by him bidding you a good day and to text him if you needed anything. some days he surprised you with lunch at your job, or brought takeout on nights that you invited him over to smoke. it was getting to a point if one of you didn’t hear from the other for even a day you’d think there was some tension bc you just hung out that much.

• it wasn’t often but suguru did let you hit the block with him whenever he wanted some company. you were his passenger princess—you had full control over the aux, he had some of your fav snacks in the glove compartment, and best of all he always had a preroll for you to smoke in case you got bored. sometimes if you were real bored he’d let you pack and scale the weed (he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little bit watching you do it).

• tons of ‘platonic’ hugs and cuddling. geto basically wishes he could live in your skin, you were just so soft and smelt so fucking good it gave him the worst cuteness aggression. one of your friends caught you two doing the good ol’ swaying side to side hug and from that day on they never let up on the allegations that you both had a crush on each other.

• i mentioned before that as the days went by suguru’s crush on you grew more and more and with that came his jealousy. geto considered himself a very levelheaded man, i mean with a temper like his he had to or else he’d be in jail right now. so when he saw some man come up behind you to feel you up while you were dancing with your friends livid wasn’t even the word:

“um excuse you,” you hissed attempting to push the stranger away, but before you could even touch him he was yanked away by a very angry geto. “do you touch every girl you find attractive without her permission? hm? speak the fuck up i can’t hear you,” while his words were harsh his facial expression was eerily calm, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive. “i was just having a lil’ fun is all cmon sugu—” geto cut the stranger off and pointed to you, “do it look like she’s having fun right now? are you having fun y/n?” you scrunched up your nose, shaking your head. suguru kissed him teeth, glaring at the man, “now get the fuck on, seriously, you’re a good customer of mine i don’t wanna have to fuck you up yeah?” and that was the end of that.

the ride back to your place was quiet until geto spoke up, “i didn’t embarrass you did i? i know you could’ve held your own and your friends were there but—” you cut geto off with a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering for just a few seconds longer than they should’ve. “you didn’t embarrass me sugu, thank you for sticking up for me i really appreciate you,” the way your eyes sparkled when you said those last four words had suguru’s heart pounding against his ribcage. you probably think he kissed you right?? WRONG MY MANS PUSSIED OUT!!!

• geto was totally convinced he fumbled his only chance to kiss you until one faithful night, during a hotbox session you lent over the console and kissed him. you’d think a lot of words would be exchanged after that but after waiting almost a year to feel your lips against his the last thing suguru wanted to do in that moment was talk. the hotbox consisted of lots of nasty kisses, suguru sloppily kissing n sucking at your neck, and a SMIDGE of dry humping.

FRIENDS W/ BENEFITS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• each hangout with geto after that night was filled with lots of kissing and grabbing, my man just could not keep his hands to himself even if he rlly tried. for a few weeks it never went further than dry humping, both you too scared that you’d cross a boundary.

• the first time suguru went down on you it was during your monthly movie night. you were making out, nothing out of the ordinary maybe a couple ass grabs here and there. it wasn’t until you gave a particularly rough tug to his hair that he noticed his self control was starting to crumble—he just had to indulge in you. that’s how you ended up with your legs over his broad shoulders while he made out with your pussy, making you cum four times consecutively.

•geto was obsessed after that. my mans never turned down an opportunity to eat you out—he didn’t care if it was in the car, on the floor, the shower, in front of his goddamn roommate one way or another his head was gonna end up between your plushy thighs. that tongue piercing did wonders for you, the feeling of it randomly brushing against your swollen clit always had your eyes crossing.

• now the first time you went down on geto he came down your throat a few minutes in like a goddamn virgin. of course it didn’t take long for him to get hard again and minutes later he was fucking your throat. you were taking it like a champ and he was sooo proud of you. he was a good six and half inches but incredibly thick, so thick it was almost impossible not to gag and slob all over him—but don’t worry you soon learned he likes his head very messy. you also learned that he’s a god tier praiser!!

some things he says when you give him head include: ‘that’s it babe take it nice n slow—hah! yeah jus like that’, ‘this tight ass throat is gonna make me nut already gorgeous’, ‘that’s right gorgeous take that fuckin’ dick lemme hear you choke’, ‘you’re so pretty like this—look so pretty, f-fuck don’t look at me like that or i’ll cum’ <3

• the first time you and geto had sex was after a block party, you already knew you were done for not even an hour in when suguru thought it would be a good idea to pour a shot in your mouth, his tatted hand snug against your throat as you swallowed. after that he was glued to your side the rest of the night, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. you felt people staring, mainly girls who have been trying to get at geto before you even came into the picture but you didn’t care one bit—it was even a little funny watching their fuming faces as you danced with him:

“and who’re you tryna put a show on for?” suguru whispered in your ear, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eyes. you pulled him closer by his chain, the alcohol in your system giving you a boost of confidence. “i’m just tired of those bitches staring, wanna give them something to look at since they wanna look so bad,” you whipped your head around, and sure enough those hatin ass hoes were still staring. suguru hummed, a smirk soon making its way onto his lips.

“follow me gorgeous, i wanna take you somewhere.”

• geto ended up taking you to his secret sanctum, a lookout point that had the most beautiful view of the city—a place where he can be alone with his thoughts about you. it didn’t take long for him to have you against the hood of his car, fucking into with everything his heart had to offer. you lost count of how many orgasms he got out of you, but what you do remember is the words he whispered into your ear as he finished inside you:

“wha’? what’d you say sugu?” you whispered, gently removing his face from your neck. his post-sex glow was ungodly, but there was something in his eyes that had your heart feeling heavy. “i like you. i like so you much y/n. i’m tired of being your friend, i wanna be your boyfriend n’ have you all to myself,” he said every word as slowly and clearly as possible to make sure you understood his confession. you were quiet, too quiet, it had his heart twisting with every beat of silence.

“i like you too suguru.”

LOVERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• suguru was the most attentive and loving boyfriend you could’ve ever asked for. he’s the kind of boyfriend where he doesn’t see why his girlfriend shouldn’t get everything she asks for, so best believe he took spoiling you to a whole other level. you needed you hair done? boom paid for. you needed your nails and toes done? he’s at the counter paying for it while you get pampered. you hungry? he’ll get you whatever you’re craving even if it means multiple stops.

• announced your relationship on his social media by posting a picture of you holding two zips of weed to your head, a geeked out smile on your glossy lips—he captioned it ‘all i need in this life of sin’ and OF COURSEEE put ‘03’ bonnie and clyde’ as the song for the background.

• suguru isn’t the biggest fan of pda but that doesn’t stop him from leaving little kisses on your shoulders or doing that one thing where he gives your hips the tiniest squeeze before wrapping his arms around you. if you get him lit enough though he’ll turn into the biggest fucking slut omg i’m talking pushing you against his front so you can feel how hard his underneath his pants, giving you a particularly sloppy kiss outta nowhere, but your favorite is when he gives you the low red eyes and lip bite combo. yup that’ll do it every time:

“n-no pda my ass you turned my cute lap dance into me—hah! almost riding you in front of—a-ah! everyoneeee fuck sugu! why’re you fucking me like that?” your mind was truly baffled at how rough and deep geto was fucking you against the bathroom stall. your words fell on deaf ears as geto fucked into you harder, the stall door thumping with every thrust. suguru groaned, shoving himself all the way in before stilling his hips. “it’s almost like you do the shit on purpose. . . wanna make me wanna lose my cool in front of everyone and act like a fucking slut just like you,” he removed his face from your neck, resting his forehead against yours. “i was chillin’ till you started do your little ‘lap dance’—had me humping on you like i was some fuckin’ virgin,” you both laughed at the last part. you brought your hands to suguru’s face, cupping his cheeks, “it’s okay babe let’s just be slutty together yeah?” geto hissed when he felt your pussy clench around his dick, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip.

“you’re so fucking nasty. . . i love it.”

• it’s safe to say that after that geto warmed up more to the idea of pda

• your family is surprisingly obsessed with suguru, he had them all under his charming spell the first time he visited your parents’ house. when talking about his place of employment he might’ve left out the fact that he sells weed on the side but he was very honest about his apprenticeship at tattoo parlor.

• speaking of him learning to be a tattoo artist, he’s the one that gave you your first tattoo. nothing too crazy just ‘worthy’ tatted on your upper thigh—it hurt like a bitch but he praised you the whole way through it. this eventually lead to him eating you out after he was done to reward you for handling it like a champ <3

• the first time suguru says i love you is after he comes home from a little scuffle and you being the angel you were tended to him. it was so random yet rolled off his tongue so easily, it just felt right. you were shocked but nonetheless so happy to hear those three words from him, you returned them of course followed by a loving kiss. this is also the first time suguru has ever made love to you—hell made love to anyone:

“this is so nice—shit, why haven’t we ever done this before baby?” suguru was breathless, borderline gasping for air at how good you felt. as much as he considered himself to be a lover boy geto has never quite made love—at least not like this. everything was so slow, yet so sensual and filled with so much love he could’ve teared up. you paused your assault on his neck, removing your face to look up at him and wow you’ve never looked more beautiful. you had the tiniest pout on your lips—a silent plea for him to give you a kiss, which he happily gave you. “you’re so deep sugu. . .‘feel you in my stomach,” you gasped when you felt his tip hit a particularly deep spot inside you, your pussy clenching around him like a vice. suguru whined—yes you heard me WHINED when he heard you say that, his already slow pace faltering slightly. “don’t say shit like that please baby—shiiit, m’tryna last,” his hand was holding onto your hip so tightly it would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. you kissed your way from his jaw to his neck once more, sucking on the spot just below his ear. “let go sugu, want you to finish inside me—ngh! make me feel warm,” you whispered the last part in his ear and that’s what finally did it. with one final stroke geto whispered those three words in your ear, making shivers travel up your spine.

“i love you more suguru <3”

BONUS (a little aftercare scene bc i can’t help myself)

after making love to you geto couldn’t help himself and fucked you so damn silly you couldn’t move a limb after he was finished with you. “that was a little much wasn’t it?” you groaned, scooting your body to be closer to him. suguru chuckled, giving your forehead three sweet kisses. “i couldn’t help myself babe, i was filled with sooo much love i just had to let it out,” you squealed when he slapped your ass, his hand gripping onto the flesh roughly. you lifted your head up to glare at him, the pout on your face making him coo, annoying you even more. “did my pussy have to be the victim of it? i can’t stand you. . . or your stupid dick,” you grumbled, poking at his now soft dick. geto smushed your cheeks together, pulling your face closer to his, “now you know you don’t mean that.” a smirk tugged at his lips when you didn’t respond, “that’s what i thought now c’mere and lemme hold you.” you huffed, laying your head on his chest, the dull sounding beat his heart making you drowsier by the minute.

“i love you so much y/n.”

THE END ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

[ozzgin]

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

[mrsparrasblog]

Tf 141 and their kinks 

Price: Breeding kink 100%; he loves fucking you raw even when you take the pill. "Going to fill you up, nice Love" "going to fuck my baby into your cunt" calls you very often Mrs. Price, while fucking even when you aren't married yet. 

Daddy Kink: He always thought it was weird until you looked at him with dear eyes as your legs lay on his shoulders. "Please, Daddy, make me cum," and he was lost. God, he loves the power he holds, but also how well he takes care of you. John Price is the King of Aftercare; I stand by that. He is the perfect Daddy—rough but a sensual lover.

Gaz: cuckolding God, he loves watching you get fucked by someone else (especially the captain). He always sits like a good boy in the corner and strokes his hard cock lazily; he can't do it too fast since he cums in seconds. 

Another kink of his is fucking you in public, car, cinema, pool, and changing room. Name it; you did it. He especially loves the nights when you have these cute sundresses on and you're sitting in a restaurant, trying so hard not to moan while his long fingers work you open. He insists on walking you home instead of taking an Uber. "If you didn't want it, love, you wouldn't have worn that filthy sundress." He loves free access, and who are you to deny a wish to your pretty boy? 

Gaz is the best cook out of your whole team; he always experiments with different foods, so don't wonder when there is a bit of cream or frosting on your body and he licks it clean; it's only right to taste your own creations, right?

Soap: Don't judge me, but I think he has a lactating kink like that. The boy gets off on sucking on your nipples, even though you aren't even lactating. He is whining and begging like a sweet mess. Bonus points if you call him a good boy. 

Bondage: He is a switch, so you got shackled in ropes on the bed, unable to move as he edges you for hours until a slow breeze of air on your clit makes you cum undone. 

Bonus: I think he would be open to a foot fetish. He never thought he would be, but one day you put your feet on his clothed cock as a joke, and he squirmed like never before.

Ghost: Somnophila: Of course, only with consent, because he would never do something against your will. But, God, you look so sweet and innocent when you sleep. You even feel better when your mind doesn't think about how you look or how you sound—he loves fucking you awake. How your eyes open when you orgasm—his version of breakfast in bed—eating you out like a starved man until you're awake.

He loves a little breathplay on both ends; he loves choking you with his massive cock and how you gag and cry, but even more when you sit on his face, he would die between your legs, so you need to make sure not to suffocate him.

A hidden kink he never thought he had was when you rubbed yourself on his boots and he cums untouched in several seconds. Simon was embarrassed at first; you needed to reassure him that it's hot and nothing to be embarrassed about. 

Just a random thought again, lol. I know Ghost's kinks are almost fanon, but I wanted to give him different kinks that fit more with my headcanon of Ghost because I don't think he is a sadist; he is definitely strong enough and has tried it, but I think he also loves his Reader way too much and is afraid of hurting them.

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader (feat. tf 141)

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders (mentioned), devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), dad!simon, mom!reader, mary shelley honorable mention, sexual tension, very light smut

⬩ author's note can not get enough of this family. this one cuts off right before mom and dad get to it but don't worry because there is definitely some gross stuff to look forward to! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 0.8k

Bedtime stories are a major event in the Riley household, and it’s all because of you.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is what the children begged you to pick for this month’s readings. Unsurprising to you, Simon had Mr. Alfie find and purchase the prettiest 1831 edition of the story he could find. And find it the butler did, earning delighted cheers from the children and a raise in his already gracious salary at your direction.

Now, here you sit with your back against Raven’s bedframe, the girl is tucked into your side while Reaper rests his head on your thigh and plays with a loose thread on your floor-length nightgown. Simon opts to lean with crossed arms at Raven’s doorframe, heart squeezing at the sight of the three of you.

The children listen with full attention and Simon doesn’t have to wonder why–you’re magnetic. Eyes bright as you read the prose with all of the elegance and charm in the world. You do the voices and make faces, pulling a few smiles from Reaper and giggles from Raven. Simon himself can’t help but grin a little, mind floating back to when you’d first started the story.

It was a few Sunday dinners ago, and your audience was slightly larger than it is now after the children had convinced Johnny, Kyle, and Price to stay a little longer that evening.

You read to everyone in the sitting room of your large residence, settled in an Oxford Red Chesterfield chair. Raven and Reaper coaxed Johnny and Kyle to sit on the floor with them while Simon and John opted for the nearest sofa and a few fingers of whisky. Even Mr. Alfie had to stop and tune in for a spell.

“She’s something…” Price whispered to Simon that night just under his breath, and it was more than just the alcohol and full belly talking. Your husband could only huff with a nod, already aware with how effortlessly you allure his closest friends.

Simon can’t help but think the same, watching you here tonight.

The children whine and beg for just a few more pages, Mama when you finish this evening’s reading. Just as they do every night. 

“Tomorrow, my loves,” you promise them, and they know not to argue any further. “Now go kick Papa goodnight.”

Reaper is the first off the mattress, Simon barely catching the nine-year-old before he tackles his father at the legs. The boy pairs his hug with a soft kick to Simon’s foot.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

Simon bends, smooching a kiss into Reaper’s forehead.

“Night, my boy,” Simon replies sweetly. “Lemme say goodnight to your sister, then I’ll be over to tuck you, alright?”

Reaper gives a fast nod, hurrying from Raven’s room and a few doors down to the other bedroom of the hall. Simon watches him scamper, turning to Raven who’s flying into his arms faster than he can blink. Letting out a surprised oof as her knee hits his stomach.

“Nighnight, Papa,” she states, voice forcing a smile into your lips. Her little arms circle around his neck and she squeezes with all her might. “I love you more than spiders, mud, and all my toys.”

You and Simon share a chuckle at your daughter’s words. Rocking her, Simon embraces her back with an exploding chest.

“I love you more than spiders, mud, and all your toys.” He releases her after one last squeeze and doesn’t let the child go until her dangling feet touch the ground once more. “Now go kiss Mama.”

Raven turns but stops. Looking back at her father, a mischievous grin brightens her face. Both you and Simon already know what’s coming. You have to cover the laugh that leaves your mouth as Raven’s little foot smacks against her father a bit harder than Reaper’s did.

Simon jerks, rubbing at the spot with a fake wince while Raven runs back towards the bed with a bubbling giggle. Jumping atop the mattress, she crawls into your open arms. Simon lingers on the two of you before retreating to go take care of Reaper.

“Do you love me more than spiders and mud and toys? Hm?”

Raven nods right away at your question, kissing your nose before rolling to snuggle over her comforter. You scoot to the edge of the bed, working diligently to make sure she’s tucked and content.

Leaving her with one final peck on the cheek, you wish Raven sweet nightmares and flick her light.

Simon finds you laying across your shared bed, arms thrown back and eyes closed. He can tell you aren’t sleeping, as you aren’t able to unless he’s alongside you.

His steps are heavy as he trails into the room, breathing deeply and finally stopping the the foot of the bed.

“I’d die for you…” Simon declares in the silence. “Kill for you, too.”

The statement flicks open your eyes, which you settle upon your husband. He studies you with a heat that has your insides fuzzing into something sweet. Slipping to the edge of the bed, you balance on your knees in front of him and sigh blissfully. Hands on your cheeks, Simon tugs you into a deep snog. Tongue swirling, he guides your head with a tender touch, eyes rolling at the taste of you.

A broken groan leaves him when you pull away, his lip trapped inbetween the rows of your teeth. After smirking up at him, Simon drags your mouth back to his and leans you backward.  You fall onto the bed in a tangled pair, Simon inhaling the gasp that leaves you when your back hits the mattress.

“You’re everything,” Simon pants out, so overwhelmed by the way you look up at him with swollen lips and darkened eyes that he has to kiss you again.

“You’re the reason I breathe.”

Kiss.

“The reason I want to breathe.”

Kiss.

“And a day alone–without you, love… that would be my death...”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[pepperyduck]

“parenting class” with kei tsukishima

this is part six of my kinktober event :3

word count: 1.5k

warnings: nsfw, timeskip tsukishima, breeding, talks about pregnancy, tsukki is maybe a little bit bad!, finishing inside, unprotected p in v. 18+ mdni!

notes: who tf was gonna tell me pregnancy scares are real

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

kei tsukishima didn’t know what had come over him.

personally, he blamed that stupid parenting class that was required, for some reason. kei thought it was idiotic, but he needed it to graduate. and they absolutely doomed him when they put both of you in class together.

there was something about you, his sweet, beautiful and kind girlfriend that had already won his heart a million times over, doing things that a mom would do. of course, they provided those dumb dolls that cried and stuff—but you seemed to be able to calm the robot baby down instantly. the smallest appearance of a smile came over his face when you’d bounce the doll in your arms, or feed it the fake food.

god forbid when they made you wear that horrible pregnancy vest, because it gave your boyfriend terribly amazing imagery of what you’d actually look like carrying his child. maybe he was weird for it, but after the few weeks of that class was over, kei couldn’t stop himself from only thinking about one thing;

getting you pregnant.

he hadn’t ever been the dad type, until now.

“do you want kids?” tsukishima had asked you, all the while focused on a homework assignment. the question was one you hadn’t talked about before. it took you by surprise, obviously, and you wondered if it was something your tsukki wanted, too.

“if you want them, yeah.”

and that reply is what led kei to his current position, deciding between two ways the both of your lives could go. but as you laid there in his dorm room, trapped under his arms, all the excuses he could make for what he was about to do ran through his head. both of you were adults, set to graduate college in a few months, along with jobs lined up the second you got your diplomas. he already had a ring for you, he’d decided he was going to marry you a long time ago—

what did he have to lose?

“are you okay? you seem out of it, tsukki,” you say, running your fingers through your boyfriend’s blond locks. you had been waiting for a few minutes now, and all kei was doing was staring down at you, the look in his eyes gradually shifting over time.

“mhm.” is the only reply you get out of him, but he finally starts to move his eyes up and down your face, skimming over your lips and soft cheeks. kei felt like he could moan aloud when you wrap your arms behind his neck and lean up to give him a small peck.

he loved how sweet you were to him, a stark contrast in his own personality. he was never one to show affection in many ways, but you made up for it with the amount of affection you gave him. you had kei wrapped around your little finger, and boy, did he know it.

wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull kei in impossibly closer, the warmth in between your legs now was prodded at by the tent in your boyfriend’s boxers. kei harshly sucks air through his teeth at the pressure, absentmindedly rutting against you, feeling your panties and the dampness behind them, absolutely soaked. kei could tell.

“i don’t have a condom,” he remarks, subtly watching how you’d react.

“oh—um, it’s okay,” you reply almost instantaneously, “i’m on birth control, tsukki.”

damn it.

tsukishima nods his head, leaning up to allow space for the both of you to strip away the clothing that was keeping him from being inside of you. scooting back on the bed, you allow him room to join you. kei climbs up on the mattress with you, slotting himself between your already spread thighs, cock immediately pressing against the warm wetness of your cunt. you whine at the teasing, though it isn’t intentional, and kei hushes your noises with a sweet kiss.

as your lips lock and your skin becomes warmer at your lover’s contact, kei’s slender hands come to grab under your thighs, situating you in a rather unexplored position—a mating press. his head draws back again, just to take in the sight of you; in his shirt, and rather everything else completely exposed to him. the small light coming from his desk lamp illuminates you perfectly, shows off how soft you are to kei, the perfect body to carry his kids—

“kei,” you whine, “are you sure you’re okay?” your question is half concern and half desperation, wanting him to either move or tell you he isn’t horny; though, the raging erection he has would say otherwise. “if you don’t wanna do it, we don’t have to—oh!”

your rambling is cut off by a harsh thrust inside, kei wasting no time to completely insert himself into you. he was never one to be too rough, maybe a little erratic, but never completely silent and impatient. you can tell there is no patience left in your boyfriend, with how he immediately begins a grueling, fast pace, slamming his length into you with unrelenting force. your pretty little brain, usually so sweet and composed, has no time to think about what’s got him so worked up, because he has you yelping out within only a few seconds.

“kei—kei!” you chant his name, it’s falling off your lips like a routine prayer, stuck on loop like a broken record.

kei’s knees dig into the fabric of his sheets, his thighs completely straightened, and it feels like he is using every bit of strength to wind his hips up and violently slam them back into you. becoming so fond of this position, you can feel him in new depths, as the slit of his cock taps – no, angrily impales – your cervix. he’s no longer calculated, or sweet, whatever had gotten into kei had made the man completely animalistic.

syrupy, soaked walls clamp around his length ridiculously tighter with every meeting of your hips, and you mewl. the first remnants of sweat creep on your boyfriend’s hairline, his glasses are beginning to slip down his nose, he’s almost silently panting. when your eyes aren’t squeezed shut, you can see the blank, mean expression settled on tsukishima’s features; it wasn’t a softened version of his face like normal.

“feels s’good, tsukki!” you manage to stammer out, arms flailing to the pillow you rested your head on to hold.

“yeah?” followed by a grunt is the only reply, the only words tsukki has given you the entire interaction. he usually liked to tease you, or have more remarks when you babbled on about how good he felt. but no, not now. not when he could feel himself getting closer from the death grip your pussy has on him, not when he can feel himself about to knock you up. “look at me.”

your eyes shoot open, despite the signals from your body telling you to keep them closed, lose yourself in the pleasure. you wouldn’t dare to disobey your boyfriend, not like this. so, of course, you lock your eyes with his, his cock still bullying its way deeper into you. kei savors the scrunched up, dirty look on your face, that of one he hasn’t seen before.

were you enjoying this that much? even if you didn’t know his intentions, were you finding pleasure in the thought of getting pregnant now, by him?

“i’m gonna finish inside,” kei states, and it’s not a request, nor a demand. it’s a simple statement, something he is going to do. you’re able to notice the passion, the need in his voice. and you think, for just a moment, that you understand his intentions.

however, the rough pounding he’s giving you leaves no time for thought.

“mm—finish in me, tsukki,” you motivate him, trying your damnedest to maintain the eye contact with him, “m’gonna cum too!” your voice pitches higher, and kei’s sure whoever’s trying to sleep on the other side of the wall probably hates him right now. but he doesn’t really care, no. he’s determined.

“yeah? close, hmm?” tsukishima teases, finally, in between heavy pants. you nod your head pathetically, not even asking for permission as you clench around him again and cum all over his cock. he’s learned you so well, he can tell when you cum, and he only speeds up the pace of his thrusting to fuck you through it.

at the sound of your pretty noises, kei loses himself, letting the feeling inside snap. thick, white ropes of his cum fly out and stick to your insides, you can feel the extra warmth from it all—it’s hotter than your insides, somehow. even as his pace slows, the thrusts remain just as hard; fucking into you all the way, he’s overstimulating the both of you. all for his greedy, reckless desires.

something had gotten into kei tsukishima, and he knew what it was now. it was all an insatiable, needy scratch inside his brain, only to be helped when in a few weeks, you take that plastic test in the bathroom of his dorm, and those two pink lines show up. he’d only be helped then.

[hoshigray]

Could you maybe do the jjk men with a brat reader?

˚₊‧꒰ა !! BRA✮T✮AMER !! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ | jjk men

✿꫶ ᩨkento, satoru, suguru, sukuna & toji × taming their bratty baby

contents: JJK men x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences - brat taming - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - manhandling - shibari; rope bondage - sex toys - impact play (p + a slapping) - Daddy kink - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - more stuff specified in their respective perspectives - mentions of drool/spit, pain, and tears.

word count: 3.8k

a. note: my first multi-chara post to celebrate 10k, yippeee!! lmk how i did ( •◡-)-✩

── ✿ Nanami Kento ⋮ sex in a public space; office room - thigh riding - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (pressing and pinching) - orgasm denial - pet names (baby, [my] love, sweetpea).

“Taaahhh, Kentooo, more, mooore…”

All you had to do was be good, not cause too much trouble for your boyfriend in his place of work, and be patient.

So why does your man have to pull you aside to one of the offices of Jujutsu Tech to correct you?

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying yourself, love. Especially after that stunt you pulled a few minutes ago.”

Nanami pressed you against a wall, his arms caging you and a leg between yours. After a rather inappropriate display of affection, you had showcased to one of the faculty members he was speaking with–poor Ijichi–he grabbed your wrist and stormed inside to find the quietest area to deal with you. What is supposed to be a talk on your childish antics turned into…you riding his thigh?

He doesn’t know why or how it happened; one moment, he was lecturing you on how indecent your behavior was (in a school, no less!), and then he watched your attention drift downward, away from his chocolate eyes to the tan pants. Your hips slowly come to and fro, sliding your groin on the hard surface of his thigh. He catches on after the third or fourth thrust, the tone of this conversation dialing to a more intimate connotation. 

Your hands grab hold of his blazer, shaky huffs escaping your lips. “Ohhh, Kentooo,” you purr with a bitten lip. “You feel so good…”

“Is this what you wanted?” The blonde man comes to your ear to whisper and shivers crawl up your spine as you nod. He brings a hand to cup and squish your cheeks. “But explain why you were playing with my belt in front of my peers, my love?”

“Because,” you drop your head on his chest, the rhythm ace of your hips going a bit faster. “You're supposed to—Mmmm!—give me…attention.” 

“Yeah?” He chews on your ear, and a soft gasp exits your mouth. “Doesn’t mean you have to do stuff like that, honey; it makes me look bad.”

You giggled. “You know how much I love to see your reactions, babe. It’s funny—Eeyaah!”

“Well, I’m not laughing,” Nanami’s hand glided down to your skirt, lifting it to touch your groin covered by underwear, and it’s not surprising to feel a damp spot getting wetter. “I’ve told you multiple times to be patient.”

“I…I–I can’t help it!” He shushes you as your voice gets a bit louder, but that’s expected when his thick fingers press hard on your clit. “Whenever I’m with you, I want to be the—fuck—the only thing you care about…”

Nanami kisses your cheek faintly, and you melt to the kiss as his fingers slither inside your panties. “You know I always care about you,” his middle finger teasing your labia and getting covered by your slick. “And when it’s just us two, I always know how to treat you right, huh?”

“Yessss,” you sigh heavenly; the feel of his digit teasing your entrance have you giddy, and his thumb brushing and pressing up on your clit makes you jitter. “Ohhh, Ken, right there…”

“What’s that, sweetpea?” He gently pinches your bud with his thumb and fore, and you grip his blazer as reins. “Want me to care for my baby like I know how?” You slam your lips onto his; he groans and permits the kiss, sucking on your tongue while his fingers curl and erupt moans of pleasure for him to drink. You separate to pant heavily, and he says: “Tell me, my love.”

Oh, God, yes! The bucks of your hips get faster. “Yess, pleaseee…!”

He huffs with a tiny smile. “Well, not right now.”

….Huh?

Nanami removes his fingers from your skirt and immediately removes himself from you, wiping your essence with his tongue and handkerchief. “Like I said, you must be patient to get what you want.”

Wait, huh?!? “W-Wait a minute, we were,” you watch him walk to the office door. “Just getting…started.”

“I know; I gave you a small taste of what’s to come after my meeting,” he opens the sliding door. “Until then, stay here and be good like I told you.”

“Hold on—Kento, stop!” Before he leaves, Nanami gives you a smirk, a tiny sign of victory on his part. And with the close of the door, you groan out loud for all the people of the school to hear.

── ✿ Gojō Satoru ⋮ oral (f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - multiple orgasms - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - mention of drool/spit.

“Haaaahshiiiit! Ahhhh, ‘Toruuu, shtop iiiit!!”

“Mmphaa—fucking God, you taste so fucking good, angel.”

Gojo is just as childish as you—don’t let the height and the intimidating aura fool you, motherfucker is a literal overgrown child. When he needs to be serious, he will deliver as the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, and his confidence and indestructible arrogance are what aid him in flying through his enemies or people who wrongfully think they can try to control him.

And that also goes for you, his little cute brat of a crybaby.

“Sat’ruuuu, don’t suck so h—Aaaahh!!”

You loved to play fire with fire with your tall boyfriend, both harboring an ego that clashes periodically. You never want to make it easy for him; he’s the strongest, after all—he should be able to handle you! For example, one thing that Gojo can’t stand when he’s with you is ignoring him. You want to get him really on his nerves? Just ignore him as best as you can! And that’s what you did, walking around your shared apartment, not coming to him when he calls or listening to music on full blast while scrolling on your phone until he snatches it off your head.

Or–and this is the best–moving away from him whenever he’s affectionate towards you. Oh, it messes with his head! He puts an arm around you? Scoot out of his reach. Wants to hold hands with you? Nonchalantly remove yours and act like you’re checking your nails. Pulling you in for a hug and kiss? Suck your teeth and put your hand on his expecting lips, and move somewhere else to really add salt to the wound.

It leaves him shellshock, gawking at your figure walking away from him—and you know his expressions must be golden. But he’s not dumb—he knows what game you’re playing. And, most certainly, two can play that game. 

“Gaahhh, nnnhh, y-yo’r tongue—Ghhhh!”

Gojo knows you’re putting him through this trivial hell for your enjoyment because he’ll come crawling right back to you for attention. And he will…and he’ll do it in a manner you hadn’t envisaged tenfold.

He pulled you by the legs on the living room couch, hearing you giggle as he stripped you off your leggings and underwear. It started small—kisses and light nibbles on your inner thighs, spreading your legs for access. You peer down to his snow-haired head, grinning in triumph as you finally get what you want.

However…there’s a catch.

Gojo’s tongue feverishly tongues you down, nestling the wet muscle in between the lips of your labia. His saliva and your come blend with the swishes of his tongue and is then sucked into his mouth. Your body quakes from the commotion of your boyfriend eating you out so ceaselessly, his nose bumping into the hood of your clitoris.

“Fuuuck, baby, you taste too good!”

 “‘Toru, stop iiit, it’s too muuuch!” You shake your head that’s pounding relentlessly. “I came three times already!”

“Ehhh, but this is what you wanted, right?” He loves the way you shudder as he licks and flicks your clit. “Wanted me to treat you like a princess, huh?”

You writhe as he blows and spits on your messy cunt, yet the hands on the back of your knees keep you aground to the couch. “Nnnmph, n–not like thisss, one was enough—I’m gonna break…!” You nearly choke on your drool as Gojo sucks on your clit roughly. “D-Don’t…! Fuuuhuhuuck…!!”

The white-headed man lifts his face to look at you, watching your expressions and wailing cries as he stuffs his fingers to please you. “Awww, what’s wrong, sweetie?” The blunt of his fingertips scraping your texture has you moaning aloud. “Think you’ll cum again?” 

You babble and nod so frantically; God, you were too adorable for him.

“Mmmm, I don’t know,” the sing-song tune meant to patronize as Gojo’s fingers go faster. “I’m still kinda hurt you avoided five of my kisses today,” he returns his face to your chasm. “But if you can cum for me five times, all is forgiven, princess~.”

“Bu–But I can’t…!” Teeth find your bottom lip to chew once he stuffs his mouth back onto you, latching his lips to slurp more of your fluids with a firm hold on your knees. “I’ll breaaaak…!”

“That’s exactly what I want!”

── ✿ Getō Suguru ⋮ shibari; rope bondage (boxtie) - fingering (f! receiving) - sex toy; clit vibrator - finger sucking - clitoral play - overstimulation - pet names (baby, pumpkin, sweetie).

Do you really think a man who raised two girls on his own doesn’t know how to handle a minx like you?

“Hahhhh, ohmyG—Mmmph! Suguru, pleaseee—“

“Shhh, quiet, baby. Or they might hear you.”

Let’s be honest with ourselves—if anything, he likes it when you try him like this.

If Gojo was overgrown child #1, then Geto is second in proclaiming that title. However, unlike Gojo, he’s not going to come to your level and try to one-up you in your game—no, no, no; that’s not his style of play. Instead, Geto aims to bring you down from your high horse and humble you.

You experience it firsthand after trying to badmouth him earlier, calling him some stupid nicknames that aren’t appropriate for his cult members to hear, doing or going places you were told not to, or whining at him for attending to his activities rather than spending time with you as he promised. You are supposed to be his top priority, and, to your dismay, you are not being top prioritized now. Hmph! 

Of course, Geto is witness to your little tantrum, letting your childish nature reign supreme until he has the availability to deal with you. And when he does deals with you—

“Ughhh!! Fffshiiit, d-don’t doo that!!”

He deals with you.

Now you’re in his quarters, stripped from your flared mini-skirt and your hands tied behind your back with shibari rope. Your back to his chest, vulnerable to him as he gropes your chest with one hand, the other in between your spread legs, fingers playing with your leaking cunt. Fingertips rub on surfaces you can’t reach, and you can’t help but release your cries.

He chuckles as you writhe from the rough tweeze of your nipple. “You’re such a handful, you know that?” His hand leaves your shirt to toy with the blindfold that shields your eyes. “Just can’t behave and make things easier for me, can you?” 

“Mmmm—ohhshiiit,” you throw your head after a curl to your upper vaginal wall. “…J-Just because you tell me to do something, doesn’t mean I’ll—ohhh!—do it…!”

“And you wonder why you’re in this predicament.” Geto then grabs the small remote sitting idly by his side, presses a button, and the moan you let out grows predictably louder. “Woah, that’s a nice sound!”

The vibrator that’s held by your panties stimulates the sensitivity of your clitoris, having you gasp and wail from the intensity and your legs wanting to close. This is impossible as Geto’s ankles keep your feet apart; your feeble attempts to squirm out of his proximity only farce him. “Don’t try and run now, sweetie. Gotta stay still to correct your behavior.”

“—Nnnaaa, ahaha, correct me?” You titter in pants, moving your face to peer at your lover with innocent doe eyes. “You wouldn’t punish…me, your sweet babygirl, right?” 

The narrowness of his violent eyes, paired with the broad smirk, has you clamping onto his digits like crazy. Geto sighs as he removes his hand from your aching slit, your fluids coating his slender fingers before she shoves them inside your mouth. “Look at you trying to act sweet now,” you lather his fingers with your tongue, sucking on them and tasting your excess come. “We haven’t even gotten to the real punishment yet, but you’re already crying.”

Your hips sway voluntarily, your ass purposely grinding on his groin. “D-Do it, then! I’m not scared—Daaah!!” Geto removes his hand from your lips to travel back down, pressing on your panties to have the vibrating clit toy overwhelm your senses.

“Heh, bet you can’t even last five minutes in, pumpkin.” He grinds the vibrator on your clit more.

“Nnmph! Make that ten!”

He scoffs. “We’ll see.”

── ✿ Ryōmen Sukuna ⋮ size difference (true form! kuna) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - eagle position - degradation - clitoral play (pinching) - impact play; pussy slaps - choking - unprotected sex - pet names (little toy, pet) - mention of pain and tears.

“—Haahhh, fuuuck—Aaaaht!”

“Shut the fuck up, little shit. You even scream like a fuck toy.”

Oh, to be a brat to the King of Curses. Indeed, you have a death wish.

Not only is Sukuna the powerful curse user of Jujutsu history, but he is also the most selfish, egotistical, and vilest man ever to walk on this Earth. People and curses around him know better than to challenge his standing, knowing that they’d end up in minced pieces or beheaded in their first step. It is that fearful respect that Sukuna feeds on, besides cutting down on those who absurdly test him.

And you, his little consort, tested him the worst of all.

One thing that Sukuna fancies about you is your independence; it’s the thing that had him curious about you in the first place—it beats someone clinging onto him and seeking comfort in his personal space. The problem, however, is how that said independence has its faults. For his life, no one in this rotating globe has found joy in pushing the giant cursed man’s buttons other than you. In his philosophy, when Sukuna commands–never asks–to do something, nothing is expected outside of doing simply that. 

He does not expect the “Nah, don’t wanna”s, the “I’m busy, ask someone else,” or worse: “Ever heard of please, big buy? Oh! Better yet, how about begging me to do it~?”

Infuriating is the best word to describe having to deal with you. Your only saving grace is that he treasures and finds use in your presence; if not, your blood would be seeping down to the bedrock.

…However, that doesn’t mean he won’t pin you down and teach you a lesson if necessary. After all, he eats people for less.

So here you were, back on the futon while your legs were propped up by Sukuna’s upper arms, all of your clothes scattered around the tatami flooring surrounding the room, and sweat decorating your hot skin. 

Your hands find purchase on his massive thighs as he bullies one of his fat cocks into your asshole; the sheer girth of him is enough for your eyes to run for the ceiling. “Daaahh, hooohshit, i’m ‘o fuuull…!”

“Hmph,” the four-eyed man scoffs at your comment, watching your expression contort to pitiful euphoria. “Fucking pet, the only thing you can think about is dick.” He slams his hips, roughly smacking your ass and scraping the walls of your rear channel with the tip of his cock. “Too stubborn to even follow what I tell you to do.”

The mouth of his stomach licks your tummy. “Mmmm, w-who pulled your pants up a notch?” You dare flash a smile at him during this, yet it withers away when the forefinger and thumb of his lower left hand find your clitoris and give it a pinch.

“Still got enough spark to talk back, huh?” The digits roughly squeeze your sensitive bud and only have you screaming louder and your anus puckering on his length tighter. “Hnngh...Just doing things I tell you when you want to,” another snap of his hips causes a howl, along with another nip to your clit. “But when it comes to this, you’re a real submissive tool, hmm?... Oi, I’m talking to you.” 

Sukuna slaps your cunt—and he slaps it hard—the impact has your eyes shot wide and cry out from the pain flourishing. “Nnnfff! F-Fuck…I only listen to you when it benefits me!”

“You never listen to me.”

You giggle wickedly with tearful eyes. “That’s the point.”

Maroon orbs narrow with the growth of an evil grin. “Fucking whore,” you earned yourself another smack of the palm on your chasm. 

“—Ffffuuhuuck!!” Your head is thrown back to the sole pillow you lay on, your small frame overshadowed by his gigantic size. “I’m so clooose…gonna cuuum…”

Another slap. “What makes you think I’d let you cum?”

Your face returns to look at him with a bitten lip, eyes fierce yet playful. “Because I fucking said I so!” Oh, fuck did that reply tickle something in Sukuna, a guttural chuckle sneaking up on him. 

He switches his upper right arm with the lower right to grab your neck. Your tiny fingers come to his wrist as the crook of his thumb is enough to add weight to your windpipe, yet your hazy smile refuses to leave your face. “Your say so means nothing to me. You will cum when I say so, little toy. Is that clear?” 

Your resilience is still present in your eyes, but you’re smart enough to know you should comply. You nod slowly, and the grip on your throat loosens a bit. Sukuna then silently moves his lower left hand to guide the top of his dual cock, kissing your aching folds. The hand on your throat grabs for your cheeks to keep your face on him—he likes to watch what happens once he inserts inside you. Your eyes roll with tears striking down, your mouth goes agape to the push of his cockhead, and the silent shriek at the addition of his second cock nestling within you all has him snicker malevolently.

“Pathetic.”

── ✿ Fushiguro Tōji ⋮ manhandling - restricted movement - oral (m! receiving) - Daddy kink - backshots/leapfrog position - impact play; spanking - unprotected sex - pet names (baby, babygirl, mama) - cervix-fucking - creampies - mention of pain and spit/drool.

“Ohhh! Ohh! D-Daddy, it huuurts—Shaaaah!!”

“Gonna keep hurtin’ more if you don’t quit squirmin’ like that.”

Toji is one motherfucker who knows how to deal with brats; like Sukuna, he gets a kick out of it. So, someone like you who likes to cross a line with him? He’s just waiting for you to give him the chance.

That chance came today when you really wanted to try him. You always had a big mouth on you—something that humored the older man more frequently than not. Walking up and down saying shit that tries to tick him off because, he knows, that’s what you want: to get a rise out of him. And sometimes he’d brush it off, not buying into your bullshit or saying, “Don’t talk big unless y’re tryin’ to learn.” 

Nevertheless, there are times when that big mouth of yours felt like you did want to learn. You opened your mouth earlier, telling how you’d take whatever hell he’d give you without problem. The first sign was a single eyebrow raised as he sipped his coffee, yet you still pushed on, giving him the rundown on how you were ready. He scoffed and retorted. “No, y’re not.” His nonchalant tone sparked you to keep pressing him on, only for him to send a tiny glare. “I’m tellin’ you; y’re not ready.”

But you never knew when to quit, giving your signature smug grin as you walked towards him. “Why, too scared? Don’t think I can handle you?” He says nothing, letting you dig your own grave. “Guess I should find a real man who isn’t afraid to prove me wrong.”

It wouldn’t be befitting as your partner for him not to take the bait. If there’s one thing Toji loves to do, it’s screwing that humble lesson into your thick skull…with the help of his cock. 

Toji smacks your bare ass harshly, erupting a sharp cry from your drooling lips. “C’mon, baby, what happened to that bigass ego of y’rs?”

So…fucking big! It was borderline embarrassing–pathetically so–to act like this. You were going through the absolute most you swore you could handle. Now, you’re stuffing your face into the pillow, your arms pulled to your back and caught by your wrists by a firm hand, ass propped up for Toji to roughly play and plow with.

His girth was surreal; the stretch was beyond words to describe and overwhelming to experience. You mouth seeping incoherent words that can’t be pieced together. Toes curl as the girthy limb in your chasm stretches you out like crazy. And your eyes water from yet another slap on your ass, Toji’s fingernails pinching the skin. “Ghh—ahhaaa, shtoop iiiit!”

“Shtooop iiiit,” he mocks with a dark snicker. “Stop what? Y’re the one who wanted this, right?” He pistons hard, and the raunchy sound of skin smacking onto skin fills the room. The white come that slides out with every push decorated his dick with a white, soapy ring. “Wanted to be filled to the brim and smack around like a bitch in heat, huh, babygirl?”

“Daddyyyy,” you wail, spit rolling out your puffy lips. “T’oo muuuch! I-I can’t take it…!”

“Oh no, we’re way past tapping out now, mama.” Toji’s hips go erratic, and the hold on your wrists grows tighter. “Told you, don’t talk big game if y’re just gonna cry and act like a baby.”

Fuuuck, I can’t!! The hot pain stings your asscheeks, getting worse with every snap of his pelvis. Toji was too much, stretching your velvety walls so badly yet ecstatically good, bringing your face up with just his fingers pulling your mouth and jackhammering his girth so deep inside you. You hiccup to every graze of your G-spot, sounding so dumb with how you’re squealing.

“OhhhhJesus, Daddy, please, I’m sorry,” you plead; that’s all you could do while being fucked out of your mind like a toy. More spanks to your butt threaten more tears to fall off your face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!“

“Hmmph, if y’re so sorry, why ya clenchin’ me so tight, huh?” His hand releases your wrists, adding more of his weight on you by pinning you down by the shoulders. The move creates more babbles to escape your mouth and your brain to go mush. “Y’re not sorry f’r shit!”

And to tell the truth, Toji was right. He’s so good at making your body feel good that this had you at an all-time high, your gummy walls contracting around him as you grip the satin sheets in euphoria. Shivers crawl through your frame as he pokes your womb with accuracy, words sputtering in an obscure fashion.

“Hoooohshiiit, fuuck, I-I’m, I’mmm…!!” There’s no room for you to warn him; he doesn’t give you that chance. He pushes your face to the pillow as he keeps pounding you until he reaches climax, spilling his semen into you for the third time that night. But he doesn’t stop until you get off your high, jabbing your cervix so that it has your head battering like a storm. Finally, you let loose and succumb to your orgasm, your vagina clamping onto him as you experience the most Earth-shattering shocks of your life. 

Toji hisses with a deep sigh, finally allowing his waist to rest and slowly removing his length out of your quaking figure. But he doesn’t permit you the 

same courtesy, grabbing you by the scruff of your neck to slap his dick on your cheek. “Suck it clean.”

Your visage, in a complete haze, come slides out of your cunt and messes up the sheets beneath you. Yet, you titter with an aimless smile and take in his cock with a hum. 

“That’s it, mama, atta girl.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 ✮ reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ header art by hyocorou + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[laurrelise]

this song + heat of the moment (also by noel gallagher’s high flying birds) (which was in s1e5 of tua) are making my appreciation for this band i’ve never heard before skyrocket

if tua s4 did anything, i guess i can thank them for that (but also -5000 points for everything else that s4 was)

This stupid fucking song keeps making me CRY OH MY GODDDD 😭 it’s genuinely so beautiful and the fact that it played in the last season messes me up so bad

just the mere thought of this song popping up in my head just makes me cry

[sstrwbrryccke]

— bullying him pt.3 | sub soobin

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, possessive reader, mentions of possessive acts, pet play slightly, dubcon, tons of public humiliation, public sex, bullying, mutual pinning with heavy denial, both are obsessed for each other, unhealthy relationships, reader is pretty sadistic, foot on crotch, exhibitionism, handjob, multiple orgasms, public fondling, fluff at end

tag: @zuzuhasablog

you tapped an impatient foot on the ground, periodically checking your phone for the time. he was late by 2 minutes now, and you feel your irritation rise as you type snarky texts to him. how was it that you were the one who came early to the pity date? it was seriously ridiculous. shouldn’t he be on time to the date he looked forward to?

yn: where tf are you? loser: im sorry im sorry im so sorry im coming right now yn: im going to pull your hair out when i see you mutt. loser: im sorry please forgive me

if it turned out that he had stood you up, you were seriously going to rain hell on him. he’s going to get shoved into the locker, have his hair roughly grabbed and face thoroughly punched until he’s bloodied and bruised. though perhaps it wouldn't be that much of a punishment compared to your usual bedroom activities with him. he would probably enjoy the process too; as it meant all your attention was on him. you realised after a bit that he really was a desperate. masochistic. mutt. (or maybe he just craves your validation that badly)

just as you were cursing him out in your mind, you see a tall figure in the distance, stumbling and running towards you like the loser he is. you can tell he spots you as well because he quickly turns to the nearest reflective surface to fix his appearance and hair; even popping a mint in his mouth before running up to you. his face was pink, probably from the exercise— his plump lips pressing into an apologetic smile.

“sorry, i’m sorry i’m late.” he was slightly out of breath from running.

“sorry? fucking mutt. do you not respect my time? if you were any later i would’ve stood your ass up.” you shove him by the shoulder and he looks at you like a kicked dog.

he shakes his head profusely at your accusation, desperately trying to get back into your good favours.

“no— no! i’m, i, i’m so sorry. i respect your time, i’m so dumb i know.”

soobin degrades himself as he chews at his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t upset you enough for you to leave him. he had been thinking about this date all night, he could barely even get any sleep. if he messes up now he’ll never forgive himself!

“—you, you look amazing by the way.” he stammers, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

“i always look like this.” you deadpan, you didn’t bother to dress up more than you usually do in your school uniform. the most you did was pick out a simple, trendy outfit and brush your hair. bare minimum really.

“yeah you always look- i mean no, not that you don’t look amazing, always, because you do! but you look extra. amazing. compared to, usual…” he awkwardly stammers, making it worse for himself. he decides to just shut up before he embarrasses himself more and you ghost him.

“shut up and start walking, you loser.”

he follows behind you eagerly, glad you still want to hang out with him even after the most embarrassing stumble of his life. though to be honest, he stumbles like this quite a lot, and for some reason, you tolerate it (with only a few snide comments here and there). it was a few quiet seconds of walking, him being too afraid to speak up and you taking sly glances at him.

“why were you late?” you break the air, his head was lowered the entire walk, but he raises his head with your question. he was clearly nervous and sheepish as he averted his gaze.

“i… was picking an outfit.”

you give him a doubtful look and he continues, stuttering. “i— i didn’t know what style you liked. and… and i was trying to comply to your requests.”

ohhh... right, the request. you snicker to yourself. you forgot about that. it was just a small throwaway statement you texted him with no real thought behind it. you wanted to see if he would really follow through or not.

“so? show me.”

he’s nervous again, arms bracing himself as he glances around to check for people. soobin mentally hypes himself up before he pulls down his white turtleneck, showing you the silver collar around his neck. you cover your mouth with an audible pfft, laughing at him and he quickly rolls his turtleneck back up. god he was so foolish, but so obedient and cute.

“and? what about my other request?”

he looks at you wide eyed, stammering. “i, i can’t show you that!”

“did you do it?”

he blushes, hands clutching the edge of your hoodie, looking at you through his bangs. “please not here…”

he begs and you feel your heart soar. fuck, who taught him to act so cute? since when did the nerd know how to play sly? you clutch his crotch to feel for his cock and he silently whimpers.

“you didn’t wear any underwear, good boy.”

he trembles, moving away from your touch to look around, hoping no one caught you two. but his heart was in his throat and he was so excited about the praise you gave. so you liked what he did? he was over the moon. ‘good boy’, he repeated in his head. ‘good boy’.

it was unbearably adorable watching the cogs in his head malfunction, and you had to control yourself from ravaging him right here and there. you take the moment to appreciate his appearance, it was pretty obvious without him having to say so that he put a lot of effort into his outfit. he was wearing stylishly rimmed glasses, a jean jacket with a soft-lined collar, a white turtleneck and black pants. he also managed to get his hair under control, bangs carefully styled and curled.

you always thought he had looks, but this just proved how stunning he could look if he cleaned himself up. everyone else seems to agree too, and you notice the unsubtle glances thrown towards soobin. he stands out, tall and lean with a bunny-like charm. a few girls whispered and giggled, clearly blushing about him. but the attention twisted something dark in your chest, it grasped and dug its filthy nails into your heart. you wanted to lock him in your room and never let him see the light of day ever again. it was an insane thought process, deranged and unhinged. he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a victim. you needed to get a grip.

you clutch his wrist tightly, pulling him along so he walks faster. he winces at the hold but lets you roughly handle him because it’s almost like you two are holding hands. he stares longingly at your hand and his, wishing you would interlock them again like you did yesterday. when you reach the mall, you watch with silent satisfaction as his eyes rake over the stores. there was a subtle pride you felt seeing him enjoy the choice you made.

“we have some time to kill before the restaurant reservation.”

he looks at you, eyes wide and plump lips smiling, you could almost see his irises sparkling. stupidly hopeful eyes. “you made a reservation for me?”

“don’t look at me like that. i just dont want to wait in line.”

he turns his gaze back to the front as you demand, but you can tell he is still giddy, ecstatic that you put even a sliver of effort into the date. it really didn't take much to satisfy him. even the slightest attention had him trembling. the two of you explore the mall, and naturally, soobin’s nerdy ass is drawn to the anime and manga stores. you tail behind him, mindlessly noting each thing he stares or geeks at.

while he was shuffling through the array of mangas, you pick out a shirt with a few familiar characters on it; you faintly remember soobin mentioning this show when you asked about his phone background. you tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, pointing to the shirt. “isn’t this your favourite anime?”

“oh! it’s limited edition!” he gasps out, excitement in his tone. taking the shirt from your grasp. his eyes widen in glee as he examines the details. the joy didn't last however, and soon he was putting the shirt back on the racks with a meek smile.

you raise an eyebrow “thought you liked it, nerd?”

he shyly looks at you, “yeah, but it’s too expensive.” he admits, clearly embarrassed. he feels like he was parading around his misfortune, look at this loser! no friends, no lover and now he doesn’t even have money. choi soobin, born on this earth and destined to be a loser.

“i’ll buy it for you.” your words cut through his thoughts. his cute hopeful eyes look up at you, and you interrupt him before he could utter out another word.

“but, you need to try it on for me first.” you continue, a pointed look on your face.

he pause for a second, the request was innocent enough, right?

☆★☆

he should’ve known, nothing was innocent with you. that's why he’s standing in the middle of the changing room with you sitting in the corner. a smirk on your lips.

“strip.”

he hesitates, but slowly shrugs off his jean jacket, he’s done this many times in front of you, and you’ve explored every nook and cranny his body can offer. but he never ceases to feel shy in his own skin, especially when you observe him like a collector would with a jewel. maybe its the setting that’s making him bashful, it feels borderline illegal to do such an act in the mall. even though many people have stripped down naked in the changing room, the way you make him feel is so sinful.

he takes off his turtleneck, exposing his bare chest, the silver collar complimenting his pale skin beautifully. it wasn’t much of a striptease and more of an activity he had to get over and done with, but it was still extremely arousing for you. watching him debase himself in his casual clothing. normally you only saw him in his school uniform (bruised, injured, crying, fucked out of his mind and all other similar variants), but watching him in his own clothing made you feel so much more powerful. like you had control and dominance over him even outside of school.

he awkwardly stands in the middle, half-naked. waiting for your next command. it didn't even take that much to train him! naturally so obedient.

“take off your pants too.”

he whimpers at this, clutching at his pants but not making a move. he begs you with his eyes, take pity on him please! not here!

“i’m… not wearing anything underneath”

“i know, take it off.”

“i, i, no, it’s.” he stammers, sweaty hands staining his pants.

“no? are you saying no to me?”

he shivers at your tone, nervously gulping. this didn't seem good at all. “i—!”his ears ring, reverberating in his chest. his right cheek was stinging red. “wh—“

you slap him again.

“mutts don’t talk.”

he shuts up at this, tears threatening to spill onto his glasses. you pull him forward by the silver collar and he helplessly stumbles as you tug him around. you observe the red slap marks on his cheeks, intertwined with his blush.

“you’ve been disrespectful since the beginning of the date. first you show up late and now you refuse to do something so simple? are you trying to make me mad choi soobin?”

he shakes his head desperately, a tear slipping down. he must be the lowest scum of the earth, because the rougher you treat him, the tighter his pants get. he isn’t a masochist he swears, but your attention (no matter good or bad) on him feels so good. he was so touch and attention starved, desperate for any kind of recognition from you.

“i’ll only repeat myself once, strip.”

he stumbles up, shaky hands quickly peeling his pants off his legs. his already hard cock embarrassingly erect and dripping the moment it’s exposed.

“look at that.” you coo, slapping his dick, making precum drip to the floor as he cries. “pretending to be so shy and innocent while you’re sporting a rock hard boner.”

he snivels pathetically, shaking his head and making his hair tousle around. the silver collar glints like a gem in the light. you chuckle cruelly. “okay, put your limited edition shirt on now.”

he bites back a whimper, he wanted you to touch him so bad. but he obediently slips on the shirt, it feels so dull against his skin, barely covering his cock. soobin rubs his thighs together, now more interested in you rather than the shirt. he wanted you to adore and spoil him, hell, spank him and hurt him too— just anything!

as if you read his mind, your hand reaches out, before you could even touch him, he starts trembling. you pull back with an amused smile and he immediately begins to cry and beg.

“no— no please touch me please touch me i’m sorry, i, i wanna, i wanna be good for you please!”

“bunny can’t even keep quiet?” you tease, putting your hands behind your back and he whines. the nickname thumping in his heart.

he starts again, though this time he tries to control his voice, suddenly aware that you two were still in public— only hidden away by a thin curtain. his bottom lip quivers as he moves closer to you, fingers meekly reaching out to grasp your hoodie. he leans his head on your chest and a small weak whisper escapes his pink lips.

“you already own me… so please just touch me…”

a shiver runs down your spine, holy shit this was dangerous. playing sly at first and now coy? he had an effect on you that you weren’t sure you liked. “i get it already so shut up and come here.” you lowly groan, pulling his body flush against yours. he tremors out a whine as you roughly grab his cock. he couldn’t complain though, because your warm hands were embracing him and touching him exactly where he wants. he melts in your hold, face comfortably nestled in the crook of your neck as you played with his cock. his groans and whines die down in your shoulder, and the way you thumbed his slit was almost domestic.

fuck what was this pathetic man doing to you? here you are in the changing rooms, letting this loser hug and sniffle into your shoulder as you jerk him off. the whole situation was bizarre and you were starting to feel lightheaded. weren't he supposed to be the one servicing you?

you press down on his cockhead particularly hard and he cries into your neck, biting the collar of your hoodie as you slide his cock underneath the limited edition shirt, rubbing him with the friction of the fabric. this sets him off, the motion just felt way too good, he keens into your fist, panting into your shoulder as he holds your hoodie tightly.

it was taking a little more than usual to make him orgasm, normally you would describe his orgasm speed as 'embarrassingly fast', but he seemed to be holding out for some reason. you give his cock an experimental squeeze and he just digs his face into your neck more. then it hits you, you haven’t given him permission yet. could he have been waiting for your verbal confirmation? maybe that's why he was squinting his eyes so tightly and biting down on your collar. just the thought itself sparked heat in your lower regions. it satisfied you more than you would like to admit.

so you lean down to where he was tucked, breath touching his ear.

“come for me”

it was a simple test on a guinea pig, cause and effect.

you eye him down as his body quivers, face flushing a thousand shades of red with an embarrassing amount of saliva wetting your hoodie collar. right after the command he releases, cock jittery and shaky as it spurts out come into the limited edition shirt. he finally lets go of your hoodie, taking a second to gain back his strength. when he comes to clarity, you can see the panic set in his throat. staring at the ruined limited edition shirt.

"what do we do? it's dirty now!"

"we buy it, what else?"

he hesitates and you raise a brow. "but, the, cashier she might, see this."

he vaguely gestures to the come stain on the shirt, right above his now flaccid cock.

"so? hurry up and change."

soobin seems troubled at your nonchalant response, but changes back to his outfit as you asked, timidly holding the ruined limited edition shirt. you shove the dollar bills in his hand.

"go up to the cashier, and pay."

somehow he summons up the courage to walk up to the counter, trying to ignore the feeling of his dick making contact with the rough jean fabric each time he took a step. it was all smooth at first, he let the cashier scan the item (making sure the stained patch was hidden), paid with the cash and felt the relief of freedom just as the cashier took the shirt to bag.

only for her to pause, soobin feels his palms clamber with sweat. she was staring at the shirt, an unreadable expression on her face before her eyes meet back with his.

"sir, it seems this shirt is stained."

god please just strike him down already.

"oh." he feels so dumb, only able to let out a sound in response. his tongue wasn't cooperating, how was he going to explain? what could he say? what should he say?

"ugh," the sound of exasperation makes him jolt. she's disgusted. she's definitely disgusted and he can never show his face in this store again.

"—it seems like the only one in stock. i'm so sorry for that sir."

she still doesn't know a thing. his heart was threatening to jump out of his throat. "it's, it's alright." his words came out weaker than he would've liked.

"are you sure si—"

"yes! yes! please give me that!" he couldn't help his sudden outburst, snatching the item from the poor lady's hands and running off in the opposite direction. he was dying from humiliation and his feet carried him like the wind over to you. he bit back tears as he faced you, bashfully showing you the receipt. it was times like this when he wishes he wasn't so tall, it would be so much easier to hide away in shame.

"what happened?" your introspective voice came through, he could hear your smirk.

"she saw the stain" he had to use all his willpower not to cry, hands clutching onto the shirt tightly. it was humiliating to admit, but a small part of him felt relief in his confession— as if the natural progression was for you to give him comfort and ease his anxieties.

"look at you soobin, so embarrassed and ashamed of your come stained shirt." you coo in your familiarly condescending yet comforting tone and he folds, nodding in agreement, tears brimming in his eyes. you rub his cheek, which was still red from the slap. it was such a surprisingly caring act that surprised both you and him, but he melted into your touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"you were so obedient bunny, let's go to the restaurant." he dumbly bobbed his head at the nickname. all he could think was how the humiliation was so worth the reward.

☆★☆

the cafe was packed, but it wasn't a big problem in the private booth. you tap your finger on the counter as you watch soobin go through the menu for the fifth time now. indecisive was his middle name.

"hurry up."

"what do you want?"

he's asked this for a millionth time now, could he really not decide without your input? the waiter has been standing there for a good minute. "dude, just choose what you want already. i'm getting impatient."

he purses his lips in clear panic, pointing to a random food item on the menu. "i'll, i'll have this!"

"an extra spicy jjamppong coming up." the waiter escapes quickly, leaving soobin with an exasperated and intimidated expression after having his order read out for him.

"what? loser can't handle spice?" you tease. he looks at you with a frown.

"i can eat spice!"

"right." the conversation ends there, but you weren't just going to just let him off like that. the table was so nicely set up after all, such a thick tablecloth.

"soobin, pull down your pants."

he immediately widens his eyes, looking around rapidly to see if anyone heard. "i, i don't know i,"

"calm down, no one can see under the tablecloth. pull it down." you rest your foot on his inner thigh, signalling to him. he lets out a shaky breath. your grin broadens as his hands travel down, shuffling his pants down to his knees. still paranoid, he takes another glance at the other customers.

you focus on something else entirely, your trailing foot to his exposed crotch to be exact. when the leather of your soles makes impact with his naked cock he wails before slapping a hand over his mouth. his thighs instinctively clamp around your foot, shivering and shaking his head. "mean, you're mean."

his bottom lip was quivering, thighs still clamped tightly as you pressed your foot down harder. "please." he whispers.

"hm?"

"please please ple—"

"here's your orders." the waiter interrupts with both of your orders, soobin glances at the man with terrified eyes, looking over at you in a silent prayer.

you smile graciously (you press harder on his cock) as you take the plates (his thighs shake and you rub your foot ever so slightly), what a nice waiter, of course, you had to start a conversation! (he tried to control his panting but his face was a scarlet red), turns out the waiter was born in japan, how very interesting (you start going in a circular motion and soobin nearly keens), his father met his mother during a road trip! (you knew from his expression that he was already leaking onto your shoes), wow and he's fluent in three languages (soobin's thighs are spasming and you were rubbing him hard, you can tell he couldn't hold it in anytime soon).

"it all started when i encountered a multilingual tourist as a child."

the conversation was a little redundant now, wasn't it? you were talking to the waiter, yet staring intensely at soobin in the eyes, a snicker on your lips. "come again?" you press down, and his body shudders, thighs so tightly squeezed around your foot it could almost cut circulation, he was curled in ever so slightly. shivering in the aftereffects of his second orgasm today.

"huh?" the confused tone of the waiter piques.

"nevermind, thank you for your time."

the waiter leaves, slightly befuddled by the conversation. while you turn your attention back to soobin who is breathing heavily with red-tinted cheeks. "wow, orgasming in a public space again, what a perv."

the words hit him hard in his chest and tears drop from his eyes, he could only let out a small 'sorry' in shame before dropping his head down. his sleeves come up to desperately wipe at his eyes and save some face, at least it was all over now and he could enjoy his meal in peace, hopefully!

"can... can i pull my pants back up now?"

"hmm can you?" you tease, and he pauses, unsure of how to approach the situation.

"can i please?" some begging would do the trick, right?

"you can if you jerk yourself off."

he pouts, and more tears drop on the table as he squeezes his thighs around your foot. but he obediently slides his hands down to try and make himself hard again. his cock was so so so sensitive to the sensation, but limp in his hands. it hurts to stroke, it hurts to touch. the longer it took for him to get it up the more he frowned and panicked.

finally, you had enough, you were just playing with him anyway, so you slide your foot off with a chuckle. he looks at you in confusion. "i was joking dumbass, put your pants back on."

you dig into your food, and soobin follows suit right after he shuffles his pants back on, looking up at you hesitantly. though the moment the food touched his tongue, all he could think was—spicy! now he was crying for an entirely different reason, he was never the strongest spice contender, and this was another league of spice.

you notice his discomfort, laughing when he ducks his head down. "too spicy?" "no..." he responds, surprisingly stubborn on this matter. he pettily eats another spoonful of noodles (swiftly to regret it). you just roll your eyes, watching him eat in amusement.

☆★☆

the date ended smoothly after, nothing else notable happened (other than some pervy touches and teasing from your side), back at your room again (it was a common occurrence for the two of you to stay in your room, he told you once he didn't enjoy staying in his home).

you flopped onto your bed while soobin shuffled in, putting his things neatly to the side and closing the door behind him. he stared at you as you typed messages to your friends (they had been filling up your notifications all day because you were ignoring them), he awkwardly stood near the foot of the bed.

"uhm, i, thank you, for today. i had fun." he starts bashfully.

"so you don't have fun with me every other day?" you deadpan and he stutters, being caught off guard.

"n—no that's, not what i—"

"i wasn't serious, idiot."

he shuts his mouth quickly, silent again and unsure of how to start up another conversation.

"god you're such a loser. look in that bag over there." you break the air, pointing to a grey bag you had been carrying for the whole day. he was curious about it but wasn't brave enough to ask. so when you gave him the go-ahead he didn't hesitate to dig his hand in. when he pulled out a box containing a figurine from his favourite anime, clear confusion was evident in his face.

"i didn't know you liked—"

"no shithead it's for you."

his mouth drops open, bunny-like eyes widening as your words start to register in his head. instantly he lights up visibly, smiling uncontrollably as he admires the figurine in his hands. it wasn't anything crazy, was rather affordable compared to the prices of other figurines, but soobin's heart soared at the gift and he felt like he was on cloud nine. you didn't pay attention to his reaction, or that's how it seemed, because you were secretly staring at every differing expression on his face.

"thank you... i, thank you so much..."

"it's not even a big deal, you're so dramatic."

but it was a big deal for soobin, he tenderly held the gift in his hands. this was the first time he's gotten anything from anyone other than his parents and occasionally aunt and uncle. it really did feel like the two of you were dating, even if nothing is official and the most accurate label on the relationship was 'bully and victim'.

"can i unwrap it?"

"i don't care."

he slowly unwraps the gift, taking the figurine out of the box carefully as he begins to admire all the details of the sculpture. you, on the other hand, admire him, no matter how much you deny it, there was something so addicting about both his happiness and pain. it hooked you on like a drug.

"sleep over."

he knew what you meant, in a seemingly harmless phrase. it often happened like this, an insignificant and passing statement. strange in retrospect, you were his bully and the door was right there, if soobin wanted to, he could make a run for it.

but the both of you knew he wouldn't. your attention was almost an obsession to him, no matter how good or bad.

"okay."

[ragingbookdragon]

Hanging By A Moment

Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs

Word Count: 940 Warnings: None

Author's Note: I love TF so much. I miss it all lol -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ironhide:

“This is…different,” she notes as she arrives into the darkened field; the veil of the moon blankets the land in an ivory haze, yet Ironhide’s sleek body is visible from even the edge. It’s remote enough that they don’t have to worry about being seen; she nears him with a curious look on her face. “Ironhide?”

His tailgate lowers and with a surprised expression that quickly gives way to a pleasant smile, she climbs onto the back, kicks her shoes off, and lays down on the makeshift bedding, resting her head on the pillow.

“Did you do this all for me?” she asks. “Aren’t you so sweet underneath all that firepower.”

“Have to treat my best girl, don’t I?” Ironhide teases back. “You’ve been working awfully hard lately. Even I know to take a break once in a while.”

She hums and curls into the blankets, almost feeling like they’re keeping warm and toasty. “No rest for the wicked, Ironhide. The Decepticons won’t wait while I rest.”

He grumbles, deep and low, and she can’t help but laugh. “Then you’ll rest, and I’ll kick ass.”

“Okay, bud,” she jokes, resting her head back on the pillow. “Take care of me while I rest.”

***

Rachet:

“When I said I wanted to spend some time alone with you, Rachet…this isn’t necessarily what I meant.”

His frame rumbles as he slows to a stop on the side of the canyon. “I can turn around, if you’d like?”

“You better not,” she warns and points a finger at the steering wheel. “You promised to take me out to the stars.”

She can hear the smile in his hum as he starts driving again. “When you mentioned you’ve always wanted to see the stars up close, I figured this would be the best I could give you.” He shifts back the roof, and her eyes widen at the expanse of bright stars above her.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, unable to help but stand up in the front seat, rising out of the rooftop. “Rachet, it’s…it’s incredible.”

He slows to a stop at the edge and stills. “It’s almost as incredible as you are. But somehow, their brightness can’t even come close to how beautiful you shine.”

Slipping back into the seat, she reaches forward and gently presses her lips to his steering wheel. “Thank you, Rachet. For doing this for me…for us.”

***

Bumblebee:

It’s almost one AM by the time they make it back into the city. Eerily enough, the roads are almost empty, and Bumblebee has a straight shot back to the facility, but he passes the particular highway that leads to it.

She notices from her sleepy haze in the passenger seat. “Bee? You missed the turn.”

He makes a noise that she recognizes as his answer of “Yes.”

“Where are we going?” she’s not worried in the slightest, knows that Bumblebee wouldn’t ever take her somewhere she could get hurt; she’s still curious though.

“Don’t worry about it,” a voiceover from a TV show filters through and she snorts tiredly.

“Alright, Bee, keep your secrets.” She shifts in his seat and reclines back, unable to help but trace the threading in the console. “You takin’ me home, Bee?”

“Take me home tonight!” he sings, and she smiles, gently shutting her eyes as the streetlights still shine across her face as they pass between shadows.

“I’m happy, Bee,” she murmurs. “You know that? I’m always happy with you.”

He’s silent for a long while and she wonders if maybe he didn’t hear her, but it doesn’t bother her as she curls up in the passenger seat and begins to drift off, only to hear quietly through the speakers, “I’m living for the only thing I know. I’m running and not quite sure where to go. And I don’t know what I’m diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you.”

***

Optimus:

“Sorry about the rain, Optimus,” she murmurs as they take shelter in the rundown warehouse. “I can’t imagine it’s going to let up…we’ll be here for a while.”

She watches as steam begins to flow from his body, fans in his processors blowing until the water is simply droplets here and there.

“That’s handy,” she jokes, and he meets her gaze with a smile.

“While rust isn’t a big a worry to myself as it is Ironhide, I’d rather not take any chances.”

She nods and takes off her jacket, wringing it out. “It’ll be dark soon. We should set up a perimeter.” The echoing of his transformation sounds in the warehouse, and she looks up. “Optimus?” His door opens and closes a few times until she gets the hint to climb in.

As she enters, the cab opens, and she slips further inside. It’s smaller than she imagined, given that outside he’s much larger but she assumes he’s somehow made some room for her. It’s a small bedding, smaller than a door, but enough that she can curl up on it, propping her arm under her head. She’s about to say it’s cold when the fans blow again and fill the cab with a warmth that feels like she wrapped herself in a blanket straight out of the drier.

And he knows it too as he asks, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs and scoots back until her back is against the wall of his cab; it feels good to have him at her back, safe and secure. “I think I could lie here forever.”

“When there is peace, my spark,” he says. “We will lie forever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” and she knows his words ring with truth.

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.