#He takes everything life can throw at him and he keeps moving the fuck forward - fighting against impossible odds until his final breath

[humanelemental]

I’ve got this fic idea in my head that won’t let me go. I don’t know if I have time to actually write it or not but I need to get it out into the universe. Edit: This took on a life of its own and somehow the spark notes is one of the longest things I’ve ever written. NSFW under the cut though only one part is really graphic. This apparently transformed mid write up from my desire to have Agatha and Rio bang their way down the Road, to my own fixit fic/Nicky resurrection. Anyway:

So picture it yeah? Everything is the same with the road right up until after Billy is injured. Agatha begs Rio not to take him and she’s like 🤷‍♀️. Except what if we diverged. Rio stops time, just for a second, and just for her and Agatha. She tells Agatha she’ll make her a deal, since the road is technically outside of time and space (and they’re both side eyeing each other trying to figure out if the other knows exactly why that is…). She will spare the boy (she was never going to take him in the first place, see the episode 8 revelations, but fuck if she’s telling Agatha that now.) but she gets Agatha in return. Biblically. And Agatha is like are you fucking serious right now???? But oh yes, Rio is dead (heh) serious. She wants to fuck Agatha and in return she’ll spare her little pet for now. And team, Agatha is not a strong woman where her ex wife is concerned. So she agrees.

Rio moves time forward, Billy is saved, rah rah, Rio and Agatha have their little fireside moment with the coven, Agatha flees into the night, Rio follows, they even have their little hug/almost kiss. Except now when Rio says “he’s not your boy,” Agatha just stares at her like she can’t figure out if Rio is an idiot or if she thinks Agatha is. Agatha’s like, “you don’t fucking say,” in the most deadpan voice you’ve ever heard. And, bless her, Rio is like kind of embarrassed and says something to the effect of, “I needed to make sure you knew, this isn’t…that.” And Agatha, now has to face the idea that the answer to her earlier question is that Rio is both an idiot and thinks she is as well. But she’s kind of sweet. Maybe. When she isn’t stealing her son in the dead of night. So Agatha very very slowly is like, “no dear, when you said there was absolutely no way to bring our dead son back, I, inexplicably, believed you.” And then they both blink at each other. Like idiots.

Agatha then goes to walk away like in our original timeline, but Rio grabs her by the arm and stops her. She’s like not so fast sweetheart, “I’m still owed a payment.” And then she kind of throws Agatha against a tree and is like, “I mean to collect.” Agatha is like, right now??? Here???? And Rio is like as long as you’re quiet they won’t suspect a thing. (This is a problem because neither one of them have ever once been quiet in bed. Only one of them cares.)

Insert absolute filth.

Then it keeps happening. Instead of losing the whole coven, every time one of them is about to die, Rio stops time and offers the same deal to Agatha. Except the closer the person is to death, the higher Agatha’s price is. (It’s a wonder she can walk after Alice.) She also counts absurd happenings as near death. Their flight from the Salem Seven counts as 5 different saves, even though Agatha is like, you just made a broom?!? (She still gives Rio her dues, because cmon, it’s Agatha. She just needs to bitch about it a little.) Also the acts keep getting more and more involved each time. Like the first time Rio just ate her out against the tree, but Alice’s near death had her bent over one of those tables in the cottage taking a magic cock, while Rio whispers filthy things in her ear and keeps her in place with those vines she used in the finale. (This is incidentally how they conceived Nicky, and if you don’t think The Green Witch 👹 has a thing about it, the whole growing of new life, I will meet you at the Denny’s and we can sort this out like adults.)

Agatha and CO’s mud bath still happens because even though Rio doesn’t let them die, she does remove the witches from the road. And that actually does take the weird amount of time we see in the show. Agatha doesn’t tell the kid any different because she kind of needs him to come into his own (she likes the kid alright) so he thinks she just killed his friend. And he’s never seen Agatha’s powers, not like that anyway, and doesn’t realize that Alice being missing should be a dead give away that something weird is afoot. Lilia and Jen don’t have a chance to wonder because, again, mud bath.

Things continue on, Lilia is a badass (👸), Rio offers Agatha the choice again, Agatha agrees because a) she kind of likes the idiots, and b) she has just been reacquainted with how incredible her wife is in bed. Rio has to do relatively little to save Lilia, mostly just stop her from hitting the ground when she flips the tower. She then safely takes them out the window, thus giving us the two figures on the card that everyone thought meant two of the 7 had escaped. She then returns to claim her prize.

I know what you’re thinking, how?? But they had time for that long ass conversation in the original. And they do still hash out the whole Billy thing, but Rio offers her the choice up front. Billy’s life, freely given, or Agatha must take his place. As Death’s wife and a previous holder of the Darkhold, Agatha’s soul is weighted more heavily in the Sacred Balance. She would be permitted to take the place of the Demiurge, especially given the circumstances in which he threw off the balance. (Wanda could also do it, if Rio were inclined to haul that mountain off her, but she’s already dealing with Agatha and Maximoff 2.0. Adding in Wanda would drive her to drink.) I think Agatha would be able to figure most of that out, even if she just assumes that Rio gets to decide how her soul is weighed. I’m mostly trying to make sense of why that trade would have been allowed in-universe in the first place.

Rio goes to leave like in the show, but Agatha stops her. She’s like I hate owing you anything, aren’t you going to collect your prize? And Rio is about to be like, fuck you, you just said you never want to see my face again, but Agatha looks so broken that Rio goes back to her, and takes her by the face and kisses her in the most devastatingly soft way she knows how. Then she whispers “Te veo,” one more time and exits.

The last trial happens, Billy finds Tommy and Frankenstein’s him into a new body, Jen is freed, Agatha uses the locket and the seed. (Except when the flower grows, Agatha feels something responding from her inside her, just the faintest traces of magic.)

The fight happens, Rio is unhinged because not only does Agatha not want her, now there’s a second abomination??? After she once again helped her ungrateful wife????? Agatha gets her powers back. She can feel something different, but she’s kind of busy. Billy tries to sacrifice himself, Agatha intervenes, they KISS kiss, (Agatha telepathically tells Rio if she’s going to kiss her goodbye, she expects her to put in some effort damn it.) but this time when Rio’s powers kick in a burst of green magic throws them apart. And then everyone is just kind of looking at each other. And then there’s a very soft, very familiar voice all around them saying, “Mami, that’s enough. They both kept their word. Two sacrifices for two boys. Seems fair to me.” And then the voice is addressing Billy much louder, “Billy Kaplan, as the Prince of the Dead, I grant you your life and that of your twin. So it is written and so it shall be. By the Divine Mother, go free.” And Agatha is on the ground sobbing, Rio is somehow both crying and spitting with rage, and Billy is just 🧍‍♂️. He’s like, am I actually- and Rio is just screaming GO!!!

Agatha is like Rio wtf? And Rio is like do I look like I know what’s happening??? And Nicky From Beyond is like, “stop fighting, I got special permission from grandma er I mean the Powers That Be. Billy is special and he’s gonna need Mama to train him before he accidentally rips a hole in space time. Er also I’ll be back with you in a few months and I really don’t want to do visitation. So uh clocks ticking. Bye.” At which point it becomes apparent that Agatha is kinda of definitely pregnant and Rio isn’t ever beating those baby daddy allegations.

And then the green storm disappears, and it’s just Agatha and Rio shell shocked in the back yard. They’re both just staring at each other, Rio is standing, Agatha is on her knees, neither one knows what to say. Finally Agatha is like, fix my sink. And Rio is like ??? Que??? And Agatha, still really quiet is like Fix. My. Fucking. Sink. And honestly she kind of looks like she one second away from strangling Rio to death, logistics be damned, so Rio fixes her sink. And her wall. And her door. And her garden. Ok maybe Rio is doing the witch equivalent of stress cleaning. Agatha is still in the yard. Her eye is twitching. She’s…processing.

Finally, finally she stands up, magics herself into fresh non witch clothes, and comes inside. “I would unpin the fabric of the universe if it meant getting Nicky back.” Rio goes to interrupt, but Agatha holds up a hand, “Loving you is the only other thing in the universe that makes me feel that way. I held more power than any witch before me, I mastered the Darkhold, I have absorbed whole covens, I have tasted pure chaos magic. And the whole of it together couldn’t compare to even the barest of your touches.” She comes closer, and gently takes Rio’s face. “Forgive me, I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking anyway. I never should have told you I didn’t want to see your face. It’s the face I fell in love with.” She wipes Rio’s tears as they fall. “I’m…” she closes her eyes and takes a breath, “I’m sorry Rio. For hiding, for running, for breaking your heart,” she pauses again, “for blaming you for your duty.”

And Lady Death yields one more time. “I hated you for hating me. For your cowardice. I had forgotten how radiantly courage shines on you. I love you, I would forgive you anything if it meant you would walk beside me again of your own free will.”

Agatha nods, “then let’s try again. For Nicky. For us.” A sad look crosses her face. “I understand why you took him, and I understand why you did it when you did, but understanding does not erase the pain. Can you give me time for that?” Rio flinches and starts to withdraw, but Agatha holds firm on her face, “I’m not leaving you, not again, I’m just asking for patience when I’m, well, me. You know how my sunny disposition waxes and wanes.” Rio gives a watery laugh and nods, leaning forward to seal the deal with a kiss.

Boy howdy that got away from me, and now it’s half stream of consciousness/half written fanfic. Like I said, idk if I’m going to have time to write it or if anyone would be interested in it. If you see anything you like feel free to yoink it. Also I have a long running headcannon that Death is like the eldest child of Life, and so when Nicky said he got permission from grandma that’s who he was talking about.

[saints-who-never-existed]

As much as I enjoy picking apart and having Emotions TM about Little's many low points - his failures and the indignities he suffers at the hands of fate and his fellow man - that darkness just can't hit the same unless you consider the light too (and I think many out there do fail to consider that light).

He isn't compelling to me just by how many times he gets knocked down, he's compelling for the fact that he gets back up again.

[urlovebot]

but what if phone sex with sunghoon!

a/n: i need him asap.

cw: phone sex. kinda public. mutual masturbation, mentions of breeding, face fucking, degradation & praise sandwiches, reader cums once, sunghoon is a whore so he cums twice.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

"show me your tits"

you start to pull your tanktop up and off but he stops you-

"no baby, do it from the top. 'want it to look like it does when i fuck you in it."

sunghoon was an insatiable man. you're convinced he's a succubus and just hasnt told you yet. it doesnt matter where he is, if he needs to get off, he will. no question or hesitation, he will slip away and make himself cum.

today, he's in the bathroom of a restaurant. he left with his friends to go eat, (not without fucking you right before, of course) not even two hours ago and, well, here you are now. facetiming while he's got his phone in one hand, cock in the other.

you pull your shirt down from the top, stretching the low cut tank top under your bra.

"play with 'em"

you set the phone down and grab your tits in your hands. at least he was considerate, making you cum with him. you let out a soft moan in the process.

sunghoons eyebrows pinch together, mouth opening just enough the let out a sigh,

"yeah... yeah," he feels his cock twitch at the sight, "that's it. good girl."

once he's satisfied and ready to move on, he gives you your next command.

"take your bra off."

you hurry to unhook it, excited to keep going but-

"slowly. take your time, yeah?"

you roll your eyes and huff in response but sunghoon is not having it.

"just cause i'm away doesn't mean you get to be a fucking brat. do what i said." he does a quick nod for you to continue on.

you do as he says. once its off, you hear him sigh into the phone. he loves your body. sunghoon fucking loves your body. loves the little noises you make, the faces you make, how needy you are. he wants to keep his cock in you all day.

"let me see your pretty pussy baby."

you lower the camera to show everything but your face. you were kneeling on the bed in only a tanktop. life is easier this way, easy access to your body. especially when your boyfriend likes to surprise you by bending you over and fucking you when he feels like it.

"let me see how wet you are."

sunghoons head spins as you lift two fingers back up to the camera and theyre glistening in the light, strings of arousal connecting the two when you pull them apart. he feels his balls jump and has to take his hand off of his cock to not cum too early. he pans his camera down as well.

your mouth waters. sunghoon was already hung so the sight of his pretty cock with an angry red tip made you drip onto the bed.

"god i wanna fuck your mouth again. felt so damn good this morning."

your two fingers circle your clit,

"i loved it, we should do it again soon."

sunghoon chuckles at you,

"god you're a fucking whore. i love you for it," his finger traces the his tip, "can you- ah fuck-"

sunghoon puts his hand back on his cock and immediately jerks forward, "can you lay on the bed with your head hanging off the edge next time? i wanna-"

you watch as sunghoon throws his head back, hand reaching around his cock to play with his balls as his cock jumps and twitches at the thought of his request.

"wanna fuck your mouth that way. i wanna see it fill up your throat-"

sunghoon lets out a stuttered moan and it has you throbbing. you push two fingers into your cunt, other hand going down to rub your clit.

"i'd wrap my hand around it so i can feel it. and when i pull out-" sunghoon lurches forward again, clearly delaying his orgasm. he removes his hand and his cock remains standing against his stomach.

"when i pull out, i'd slap it against your face," he puts his hand back on his cock, leisurely stroking it once again, "you'd like that wouldn't you? you wanna be my pretty slut? fuck. fuck"

at this point you're grinding into your hands.

"its not enough hoon. come home," you remove your fingers and put them in your mouth. sunghoons eyes widen and he lets out a long winded whine. you continue, "i need you inside me. god i need you to fill me up again."

"yeah baby? you need me to make you feel good?" sunghoon thinks he's going to explode and then you say-

"want you to put a baby in me hoon. please baby, please come home and put a baby in me."

and at that, sunghoons body locks up. his jaw falls open and his eyebrows pinch together and his hand stills as he blows his load. ropes of cum leave his cock and it almost looks like hes in pain. even without seeing him, you'd definitely be able to hear him.

"fuck- i'm gonna put a baby in you. yeah- shit- im gonna..." a moan rips through his throat, "i'm gonna plug my spunk into you. fuck my cum inside you over and over-"

and at this point, he is in pain. he's fisting his cock so hard at the thought of breeding you that he cums again. its dry, harsh, it rips through his body and he convulses a little bit.

when he comes to, he sees you've cum too. chest heaving, skin glistening with sweat.

he's made an absolute mess of himself. cum stains his shirt and pants.

"sunghoon!"

he laughs at your worried expression,

"don't worry baby. it's my excuse to come home."

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

jax is THE "obsessed with his girl when she wears sundresses or those slip nightgowns" like theres a CRIMINAL lack of fanfic around him going bark bark awooga over that shit do u agree with me

Sundress.

it’s sundress season. jax can’t keep his hands to himself.

pairing - jax teller x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. jax is a terror.

word count - 1.5/2k maybe? i’ll check later.

authors note - you’re so right. that man is not surviving sundress season.

masterlist. inbox.

You felt it as soon as he walked in.

There’s always an atmosphere between you and Jax. A tension that’s alive, crackling, buzzing with anticipation of itself.

You’ve been waiting for the honeymoon phase to wear off for years. It never has.

All evening, he’s been watching you.

Careful, concentrated blue eyes repeatedly raking over your figure. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Eventually, it’s making it too hard to work. You ask one of the girls to take over the bar and stride across the space, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into the back room.

“Okay baby, I like it when you-”

“Cut it out.”

He stops in his tracks, slightly taken aback.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, Jax. Cut it the fuck out.”

He leans against the wall, cool as ever, eyes still wandering.

“Cut what out?”

“That!” you scold, smacking his chest. “The eye fucking. I’m trying to work.”

“I’m just looking at you.”

“You are not just looking at me. You look like you’re going to bend me over the bar at any given moment. Stop it.”

“I can’t help it, darlin’.”

He takes a step forward, sliding his hands across your hips and pulling you into him.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty in this dress. It’s takin’ everything in me to not rip it off you.”

You try to stand your ground, but his warm body pressing into yours is making it difficult.

“You can do whatever you want to me when we get home,” you tease, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “When we get home.”

“That a promise?”

“It is if you can cool it with the stares. You’re scaring people.”

“Good.”

He kisses you roughly, hands migrating down to palm at your ass. You moan into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck to stay steady.

“Jax,” you hiss as you pull away. “Everyone’s gonna think we’re fucking back here. Behave.”

“I like it when you tell me to behave,” he smirks, smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

“Behave,” you repeat, tugging his hair roughly. His eyes close in bliss and for a moment, you debate just letting him have you now.

Remembering the entire reason for this conversation, you slap his cheek lightly.

“Best behaviour until the end of my shift. You hear me, Jackson?”

“Yes ma’am.”

He mock salutes you before stealing a quick kiss. Opening the door for you, he smacks your ass as you walk by, laughing when you turn around to glare at him.

“I mean it.”

“Oh I know, baby.”

To his credit, he reels it in. Slightly.

He’s still watching your every move, but with a little less intensity than before. You catch his eyes occasionally, winking as you grin. He shakes his head, beaming smile on his face telling you everything you need to know.

As the night comes to a close, people start to vacate the bar and make their way home, drunk and merry. Jax sticks around, arm slung over the back of the booth as he watches you clean.

“You two gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, Chibs, we’re good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving, as you hear his bike roar to life.

As soon as Jax has confirmation he’s gone, he’s getting up, sauntering over to where you’re wiping down the bar top.

“What’s my prize?”

“Hmm?”

You look up at him with big doe eyes and he almost melts, leaning across the wood towards you.

“What’s my prize? For behaving myself?”

“You’re insufferable,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to behave yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head and lean down to throw the rag under the sink. When you stand up, Jax is pressed against you, body warm and firm.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His big hands cradle your face, rough and gun calloused.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty.”

You flush, heat rising across your chest. Jax lunges in, smashing his lips to yours and pushing you up against the bar. The lip of the wood is digging into your back as he presses you into it further, rocking his hips into yours as he kisses you.

You gasp as he bites down on your lip, so he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and the gum he chews because he knows you like it. You tangle your fingers into his hair, trying to plaster yourself to him.

Jax leans down and presses open mouthed kisses to your ear, your neck, your collarbones, your chest. No skin goes left untouched as you tilt your head to give him more access. He smirks at how quickly you’ve relented.

“I know you wanted this,” he murmurs against your throat. “Wanted it just as bad as me, didn’t you?”

When you don’t respond, he snakes a hand around your neck, squeezing just enough.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, Jax. Please.”

He presses his lips into the junction of your shoulder as his hand slips underneath your dress. He traces you over your underwear, cupping you as he chuckles.

“Filthy girl. So fuckin’ wet.”

You drop your head forward into his chest, trying to take deep breaths so you don’t pass out.

“Can’t take my time with you like I want to,” he murmurs. “Don’t want anyone walking in and seeing you like this.”

In the blink of an eye he’s spinning you around, hand on your shoulder blades to push you down onto the bar top. He flips the skirt of your dress up, bunching it around your waist.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day. Pretty fuckin’ girl.”

Jax pulls your underwear to the side as he fumbles with his jeans, pushing them down just enough. You feel the warmth of him behind you, sliding through your wet heat with ease.

“Please,” you whine. “Don’t tease.”

“Needy baby.”

His tone is so patronising, so condescending, that on any other day you’d slap him. But in this current moment, the only thing you can thing about how is how you might die if he doesn’t fuck you soon.

“Okay, honey. I’ll give you what you want. Only because you look so fuckin’ gorgeous in this dress.”

He slides himself home as both of you groan. You rest your head on your folded arms on the bar as his hands find your hips, setting a brutal pace instantly.

His rhythm is consistent, deep thrusts reverberating through the core of you. Your knees threaten to give out as he knocks your entire body forward, his hips smacking into yours.

His mouth is running constantly, spewing filth right into your ear as he breathes down your neck.

“Prettiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. This goddamn dress. Drivin’ me insane.”

“Yeah darlin’, just like that. Fuck, baby. S’good.”

“You feel like heaven, fuck. Atta girl.”

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. That’s it, there we go.”

You can’t do anything but take it, babbling nonsense right back at him. He chuckles, snaking his hand around your front to circle your clit.

His fingers are your undoing, clenching around him like a vice as your legs give out. All you can do is whine his name, all high pitched and breathy.

“Fuck, baby.”

Jax comes as soon as he feels you, groaning as he rests his head on your back. He squeezes your hips a couple of times, kissing across your skin.

You’re both revelling in your post orgasm bliss when the door flies open, hitting the wall and startling you both.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, lovebirds.”

Chibs is grinning, laughing as he looks around the booth where he was sitting. He finds his keys on the floor, holding them up as he shakes his head at the two of you.

Jax pulls out of you and buttons himself up, smoothing your dress down to preserve your decency. You hide your face in his chest as he chuckles, the sound rumbling through the both of you.

“See ya tomorrow!” the Scotsman yells as he leaves, stupid smile on his face.

“What did I tell you about behaving?”

Jax can’t help but laugh at you, pulling you in to press a kiss to your head.

“Let’s go home, pretty girl. Wanna fuck you in this dress a couple more times.”

@lauratang @ladyjbrekker @myhappyplaceofstuff

[rosenclaws]

logan helps you study <3

a/n: full disclosure I'm ovulating and I legitimately can't focus on anything because I keep thinking of Logan and I have a midterm tmr so this is born so I can finally fucking focus. I can't stop looking at pictures of Hugh it is actually driving me insane

wc: 646

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, cockwarming, bent over a table, teasing logan, breast groping/nipple play, reader wears a skirt.

"Lo..." You shift uncomfortably on his lap.

Sweat forming on your brow as your hand shakes. You regret ever asking him for help studying. Though now that you think of it, you never asked for his help.

Logan found you at the dining room table. Eyes straining from looking at your laptop for the last 4 hours of your life. Books open, post its everywhere. You were ready to pull your fucking hair out. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he doesn't try and help his smart girl.

His idea of helping?

Having you sit on his fat cock while you study. Promising you the ride of your life when you're done going through the study guide. He got you to stand up, smacking your ass as you did and sat in your chair.

Unbuckling his jeans with a loud clank and pulled down his pants and boxers in one go. He spread his legs and pat his lap, winking as he stroked his cock. He leaned forward and stuffed his face in your cunt making you gasp.

Your hands gripped the table tightly as pulled your underwear harshly. Watching as your ass shook right in his face. The fabric of your panties rubbing against your clit roughly as he pulled and pulled until it snapped. You mark that as another pair of underwear Logan has ruined. He tosses the scraps somewhere in the room and grabs your hips to place you on his lap.

He smacked your thighs and smiled as he told you to open up. Notching his cock at your pussy and helping you take all of him until he's all the way inside.

This was so not fair.

"Yeah pretty girl?" Logan plays with the hem of your skirt, a smirk on his face as he feels you move on his lap.

"Don't know how much this is helping..." You mumble. He moves his hips and you bite your lip to suppress a moan.

"I don't know, seems to be working from here." He grins as he thrusts his hips upwards.

The tip of his cock burying itself deep inside of you. You let out a squeak as his hairy thighs rub against your ass. The grip on your pen gets tighter as you resist the urge to throw your books off the table and beg Logan to fuck you right here.

"Just a few more questions right?" He slips his hands under your shirt. Fingers trailing up and up until he's cupping your bra. Slowly pulling it down until your boobs pop out.

"Finish them and I'll give you everything you want baby." He purrs as his thumbs flick over your nipples.

It's the most tortuous 10 minutes of your life. Writing answers to questions you can't remember. Logan's cock is pulsing inside of you. His hands are meticulously tugging and playing with your nipples. Squeezing your tits in his rough, calloused hands. He's whispering dirty thoughts in your ear, no longer attempting to help you study. Instead growing impatient as you clench around his cock.

Finally you finish the last sentence. Slamming your computer closed and shoving all your books off the table. Logan stands up, shoving you until you're bending over the table. Cock still deep inside of you as he leans over and pins your body to the table with his super human strength.

Logan growls as he sets a harsh but slow pace. Dragging his cock along your tight walls, groaning when they don't seem to want him to leave.

"Pussy wants to keep me deep inside huh?" He chuckles darkly as he slams his hips into you.

"Hope you studied good baby," He buries his face in your neck. Inhaling your scent as he rubs his nose along your neck.

"Because tonight the only thing you're gonna remember is how to scream my name."

[kateschi]

into the ashes

synopsis: amid the chaos of flames and debris, dabi bares witness to you getting injured. he does not like it.

pairing: dabi x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: behold i have forced my bestie into liking him

the air reeks of smoke and burnt metal, debris scattering across the alley as another explosion rocks the street. you’re cornered, body trembling from the impact, struggling to regain your footing.

blood trickles down your arm from a gash on your shoulder, and the sharp sting makes your vision blur for a moment.

dabi stands a few feet away, eyes locked on the thug who had dared to strike you. his entire frame is tense, shadows dancing across his scarred skin, the blue flames licking at his fingertips ready to erupt.

he doesn’t even glance your way at first—his gaze is trained solely on the scum in front of him.

"you’re going to regret that," he says, voice low and lethal, a dark promise wrapped in fire.

the thug grins, clearly underestimating the depth of dabi’s rage. but you can see it—the way his blue eyes darken, how the flames around him burn hotter, more unstable.

there’s no room for banter now, no time for him to throw his usual sarcastic remarks. the second you hit the ground, his entire focus narrowed to one thing: absolute destruction.

but as much as his fury is directed outward, there’s something more dangerous in his posture—something sharp and suffocating in the way his hands shake, just barely under control.

for once, he’s not just mad. he’s terrified.

"dabi—" you start, trying to push yourself up, the pain shooting through your side forcing you back down.

he whirls around at the sound of your voice, and for a split second, you see something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

it’s brief, but the fear is there, raw and unchecked, the kind of fear that cracks through the facade he wears so well. his lips curl back into a snarl, but the flames flicker dangerously as he rushes toward you, the thug all but forgotten in that moment.

"don’t move." his voice is harsh, sharper than usual, but there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. "just—stay still, alright?"

you blink up at him, dazed, but you manage a weak nod. he kneels beside you, one of his hands hovering just above your wound, hesitating.

his touch is scorching, his quirk on the verge of slipping out of control, and he knows it. the last thing he wants is to hurt you more.

"fuck…" his breath comes out in a shaky exhale as he forces himself to calm down, though the fury in his eyes hasn’t diminished.

"you—you're so goddamn stubborn, you know that?" his voice wavers for a second, betraying the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to conceal.

you manage a faint smile despite the pain. "takes one to know one."

his lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but the moment is fleeting as the sound of movement snaps his attention back to the thug behind him. instantly, his entire demeanor changes.

his hand slips away from yours, blue flames surging to life once more, but this time, they’re different—brighter, hotter, more dangerous. the air around him pulses with a terrifying heat, and the ground beneath his feet begins to blacken.

"you think you can touch her and walk away?" dabi’s voice is venomous now, dripping with pure hatred. "I’ll burn you until there’s nothing left."

there’s no mercy in him anymore, no restraint. you can barely keep up with what happens next as he moves in a blur, his flames surging forward like a wildfire.

you can hear the thug’s screams as dabi unleashes the full force of his power, the blue fire consuming everything in its path.

the heat is suffocating, but you can’t look away. you’ve seen dabi angry before, but this is something else entirely.

this is him unhinged, relentless, the raw intensity of his emotions laid bare for the world to see. it’s terrifying and yet… there’s a twisted kind of beauty in it, in how fiercely he fights for you.

in minutes, it’s over.

the alley falls silent, save for the crackling of dying flames, and dabi stands amidst the ashes of what used to be the thug. his chest rises and falls heavily, his skin gleaming with sweat, but his eyes find you immediately.

without a word, he’s back at your side, kneeling down, his hand reaching for yours again. his fingers are still warm, but gentler now, as though he’s scared you’ll break under his touch.

"don’t you ever—" his voice is hoarse, ragged with emotion. "don’t you ever get hurt like that again."

there’s no teasing this time, no snide remark to hide behind. his grip tightens, not enough to hurt but enough to let you know just how much this is affecting him.

he doesn’t want to say the words, doesn’t want to admit just how deep you’ve gotten under his skin, but it’s there, in the way he holds onto you like he’s scared you’ll slip away.

you give his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him the only comfort you can in that moment. "I’m okay, dabi."

his jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. "you’re not. and that’s the problem."

for a moment, he just sits there, staring down at your intertwined hands. his flames have finally receded, the heat dissipating, leaving only the cool night air around you both.

when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost vulnerable. "I can’t—" he stops himself, frustration flashing across his face as if the words themselves are too hard to say. "I can’t watch you get hurt. not you."

it’s not an outright confession, but it’s close. as close as dabi can get. and in the way his hand trembles slightly in yours, in the way his gaze softens, just for you, you realize that maybe that’s enough.

for now.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[vervainandspritz]

could you do a smut where it takes place after season 4, episode one when Tommy murders that butcher, so right after that he’s extremely pissed off and frustrated so he goes to the bedroom where reader is sleeping in the dark and he wants to let out his stress so he fucks reader roughly while still covered in all that blood it turns reader on a lot and Tommy’s very degrading with his words:)?

WHAT YOU'RE MADE FOR

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: death, angst, violence, angry sex, degradation, smut

A/N: Y'all better start sending requests istg

~~

It felt almost deranged, as Thomas stared in the almost dead man's eyes. Life leaving his irises, lungs choking on blood while trying to take a breath. One so desperately needed. His mouth wide open, pathetically attempting to inhale some oxygen which was already impossible. Last blinks, last moves before he fell to the floor, dirtying everything around and... Leaving the meat raw on the table.

Thomas looked around, only now noticing the state he was in. Covered in blood, almost head to toe. His expensive vest and suit pants absolutely drenched, not to mention the shirt. Letting out a sharp breath, he dropped the sharp tool to the floor, making his way out of the kitchen.

He had so much to do before Christmas. Since the cook died, he needed a new one. Tommy had to call around, find someone last minute and pay extra for cleaning and keeping silent about whereabouts in the Arrow house. So much to do, yet he could barely think with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, making his heart thump and his hands shake.

Normally he would take opium to make it better, but Thomas was well too aware of his wife's reaction to the drug. She hated when he was under influence.

Huffing angrily under his nose he thought of an alternative, and frustration grew as he thought about how difficult Y/N has to make it by arguing. Always arguing. Forcing him to eat better, to take care of himself. So damn loud and opinionated. Throwing back a glass of whiskey, his eyes landed on the staircase and the idea suddenly appeared in his head.

Without missing a beat he made his way up the stairs, leaving bloody marks on the handrail and expensive wood. Quickly walking through the corridor he barged through the door, his precious wife laying on the bed, beautiful as ever. Her white gown hunched up slightly higher than usual, revealing her creamy thighs and reminding him of the lack of underwear.

Standing there, simply staring Thomas felt his pants becoming tighter, all blood going south, exactly where he needed it. Quickly unbuckling his belt and pants he walked over, leaning forward he cooed quietly seeing her peaceful face.

His hand traced her cheek lightly, leaving a bloody mark that made his teeth clench. Deep, crimson red colour in such a stark contrast with the innocent face and white gown of hers. Without waking her up, he quickly pulled her to the edge of the bed by her legs, startling her awake.

"T–Tommy?" She mumbled, eyes barely open as he flipped her on her stomach with a growl. Adrenaline buzzed in his ears as he pawed on her skin, leaving mark after mark from the blood he had on. After a moment she lifted her head, looking back and seeing him completely red, which caused her to squeak in fear. "Thomas, wh–" but he cut her off, pulling his cock out and shoving her legs apart, spitting on her pussy to use as a lube.

"Shut up!" He hissed, climbing onto the bed and straddling her thighs. "I kept you safe. I've fulfilled my duty, and kept you safe!" He hissed into her ear, grabbing a handful of hair, nudging her entrance with the tip of his cock.

A loud moan caused by the sudden stretch and pain filled the air as he slammed himself to the hilt, not able to wait any longer. His hand immediately covered her mouth, two fingers shoved into her mouth to keep her quiet. "The least you can do is fucking take it" He growled into her ear, thrusting impatiently into her tight heat, feeling the wetness pooling from her entrance at his rough manhandling. "That's what you're fucking made for!" She moaned loudly, feeling the bitter metallic taste on his fingers, filling her mouth and making it hard to breathe which made her keep squirming.

Thomas laid himself over her, fucking her from the back, putting his complete weight on top of her.

"You feel it? The fucking taste?" He growled, pulling her hair with another hand. "It's a taste of your safety." His voice was different, clearly because of the chaotic situation he's been through just a couple minutes earlier. Y/N had no idea what was turning her on so much, whether it was the danger to this whole situation, or maybe him fucking her so roughly. "Answer me!" He roared, plunging even deeper than before, his tip kissing her cervix really hard, causing her to nod frantically. "Some cock and you're already too fucking dumb to speak, eh? Good thing your cunt 's always wet then" He added, cruelly almost, knowing how much she loved being degraded. "Nothing more needed to be my precious little fuckhole" He purred, picking up his pace, fucking her faster and harder. Whimper after whimper leaving her lips before he pulled his fingers out of her mouth and wrapped them around her throat.

"Shhhh" He cooed, "You don't want to wake up the kids, do you?" He emphasized the last two words with painful deep thrusts, making her feel like he was already in her belly.

"Tommy" She managed to stutter out, holding onto his hand which was squeezing her pretty hard, cutting off the blood flow and causing her eyesight to go blurry.

"I feel you squeezing my fucking cock. You like that, eh? Being fucked, covered in blood and treated like a cheap whore." He groaned by her ear, the free hand reaching underneath to pinch her clit and rub brutal circles, causing her to cry out weakly. "Nasty fucking cunt" He purred as she came around him so hard, before completely going limp on top of her. Pressing her into the mattress as his thrusts grew frantic, deeper and slower while her cunt milked him for all he had.

Only then did he let go of her throat, slowly threading his fingers through her hair, as they both tried to catch their breaths.

Tommy lifted his head up, seeing her so beautifully fucked out and smiled. Kissing the side of her face, he murmured.

"We need a cleaning service in the kitchen... and a new cook."

[redsrooftopprincess]

I have just had this idea for Bayverse Raph and female reader.

I want to see a chapter on how the reader has cute awkward moment. Walking into the lair thinking all of them are out on a mission, only thing is Raph is there just in the gym.

Then I give you permission to work with this as its a writing experience.

Work your magic!

Awkward

Raphael x GN!Reader

It's the middle of the night and you expect the lair to be empty. You're bringing a fresh batch of tea to Master Splinter. You'd picked up his favorite at a small shop in Chinatown that afternoon.

You expect all the boys to be out on patrol, so you're surprised when you hear music, and see a light on in the weight room. You drop the tea on the kitchen counter, next to the kettle, and head in that direction.

He's lifting. Laying on the bench modified to accommodate their shells, and musing about how funny it is that while he used to look forward to the quiet of his nights off, now he'd much rather have an excuse to come visit you.

You only met recently, a few months ago, but he's been stopping by for a break in the middle of patrol occasionally, and occasionally was starting to evolve into frequently.

He sets his weights down and takes a break, grabbing a bottle of water and walking over to the mirror. He stretches his arm, looking down the length of his tricep in the mirror.

His workouts are half mental, half medical. Mental because it's when and where he thinks the best. In a way, it's almost like he can physically put his thoughts in order with every push of the bar. Medical because his shell is just too damn heavy.

Turtles aren't meant to walk on their hind legs, and even with their mutated forms, their spines can only take so much. Raphael may not be the tallest, but he is the biggest of his brothers, in sheer mass, by a large margin. He was made for close quarter combat, a thick hide and a dense shell ready to tank any abuse thrown at it. It was a heavy burden. Literally.

Besides all that, he just enjoys it. Leo used to call him vain. The way he would look at himself in the mirror, finding every last detail of his physique that could be improved, and busting his ass until he was satisfied. He isn't vain, at least he doesn't think he is. He just doesn't have a lot else about himself he can be proud of.

So, on his nights off, he doubles his workouts and uses that time to think through whatever is going on inside his head. Lately, it's been you.

You're new. It usually took him a while to get comfortable with new. There was always an adjustment period. But he took to you almost immediately. It's something he's not used to and... he doesn't hate it.

You're sweet. Kind. And you didn't scream upon first meeting, which initially made him question your sanity. You're sharp and sassy and can keep up with him talking shit. Brilliant and clever and ready to jump into whatever their weird lives are throwing at them. All of that, and on top of everything, you are SO hot. Fuck. It's actually unfair.

Climbing the stairs to the weight room, 50 Cent is shouting a song from the speakers that really, really doesn't help your rocketing heart rate when you stop in the doorway.

Oh wow.

In nothing but his harness, black sweats with red kanji emblazoned down the left leg, and hand wraps, he's flexing in the mirror, and your mouth has gone dry.

He's beautiful. You've thought so from the start. But Raphael is a *big dude*. You've known many *big dudes* in your life, and if there's one thing you know about *big dudes* it's that they hate being noticed, because they're always the ones you notice first.

Compliments are something that need to be worked up to. Especially in his case. There is so much trauma around his physical appearance, that one wrong move could set you back further than the beginning.

You've started with observations. Things like asking about his scarification and tattoos. If you could get him comfortable talking about his body, maybe one day you could tell him how much you appreciate it in a way that he would not only accept, but believe.

Mentioning his body at all is still a hit or miss situation, but the hits are becoming more frequent and, Gods, you love how cute and bashful this giant reptile gets talking about himself. Like he's embarrassed there might be something about himself that he likes.

But, holy fuck is he beautiful.

You can't help it. Your eyes wander a path over his form, scaling every mountain and ravine of his otherworldly vista. Raphael is a mountain made flesh and you've never gone mountain climbing, but it looks really fun.

He smirks, pleased with the results of his latest inspection, and relaxes his arm. His gaze falls on you in the doorway behind him, and he startles, turning around quickly. "Oh! Hey!"

"Oh! Hi!" you say, a blush blooming on your cheeks. Did he catch you staring? You laugh nervously, "Sorry, I didn't think anyone was here."

"Oh, no, it's cool..." he says, "my night off." Holy shit she's here. Okay, be cool, you were just missing her, and she's here now. That's a good thing. Right?

"Oh... Cool."

"Yeah."

"..."

"..." The plastic water bottle crinkles in his hands as he fidgets.

"I was just bringing some tea to your dad."

"Oh, he's asleep by now."

"I figured."

"..."

"..."

You're used to having home field advantage, but you're on his turf now, and suddenly you don't know what to do. You usually invite him in for coffee and busy yourself with something while you hang out and chat. It's always easier for you to talk to new(ish) people when you're doing something, but this time you're the guest, and your only task has already been completed.

You're here. In the lair. With him. Alone. He's not really used to "guests," let alone beautiful ones that he totally isn't crushing on, shut up.

"Okay... Well, I'm... gonna head home," you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, "Enjoy your night off!" You smile brightly, cringing *hard* on the inside. Gods, you're so fucking awkward.

Shit! No!

"Wait," he takes a step toward you, hand outstretched. That sounded desperate. Did that sound desperate? Fuck it, he's desperate. Don't leave. "You know..." Be cool... he slows down and clears his throat, "If you got nowhere to be, do you... want to watch a movie or something?" He tries really hard to keep the hopeful edge out of his voice. He fails.

A grin splits your face. Really? Really really? "Yeah! Sure!" you say, nodding, almost bouncing, "I'd love that!"

He grins back, his stomach doing somersaults, "Cool... I guess I'll grab the snacks... you pick the movie?"

"Okay!" You say, actually bouncing.

You spend the night watching movies, talking, and telling stories, without the looming deadline of him having to go back to work. Without having to rush things, you find you that you have a lot more in common than you thought. A deep love of terrible action movies being one of those things, and you make it through several. After The Transporter, you fall into what feels like a natural rhythm, missing most of the remaining movies entirely in favor of conversation.

Michaelangelo is the first to make it home, and finds the two of you asleep on the couch. Equilibrium is playing on the giant television, Raphael's arm is wrapped around you, and you are cuddled into his side under one of the many oversized hand knitted blankets scattered about the lair.

Mike snaps a photo for future leverage, and goes to take a shower.

Tag list

...

From Red's Lifting Playlist:

...

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[rueclfer]

crave to do it again // touya todoroki

when just for a second, it all felt so simple

a/n: geettt this shit out of my drafts!!! is this the fucking angst yall wanted!!!

@bbluefllame 😔

At 12:00AM, it was unusual for the city to go quiet. Aside from the buzzing lamp post, crickets chirping, and the occasional chatter from the nightcrawlers down the street, you wondered where everyone had gone. Maybe they knew what was to come.

The cool night breeze was circulating through your apartment along with soft ambient music emanating from your record player. You were fists deep in various articles of clothing, crumple up notes, loose photos, and more all haphazardly thrown in dingy cardboard boxes.

"Touya, look." You call his attention away from the wad of paper in his lap. "You have to wear this tomorrow." You held up the "If lost, return to Y/N" shirt you had gotten him as a gag gift for his birthday last year.

"Asshole." He chuckles. "If any part of that shirt survives, they'll come for your ass next."

"Heavy on the if." You mutter, sadly smiling to yourself, letting your hands fall back into your lap.

You tightly clutched the black fabric, looking closely at the worn cracked lettering before bringing it up to your nose, deeping breathing in his faint lingering scent of citrus and cedar mixed with laundry detergent.

You two were sat criss-crossed on your bed with a box sitting in between you two. You occasionally glanced up at him to see his furrowed brows focus on whatever item he had in his hands, silver hair damp from the shower, and him sporting an old band tee you two passed back and forth as a pajama shirt. You wished you could take a picture of this moment.

Everything almost seemed normal. Almost. You tried not to let the dread brewing in your stomach overwhelm you, but your hands had been clammy all day, you couldn't keep any food down, and you were sure you were less than 12 hours away from a breakdown.

"Gross. Don't know why I kept this." He flips a photograph over to you, revealing a creased family photo of the Todorokis burnt around the edges, but every single face still legible. "Throw it away for me, yeah?"

"Absolutely fucking not." You snatch the photo from his fingers, peering closer to see him in his childish glory- missing teeth, tousled hair, and a wide grin that had diminished with age.

It was rare for you to see a photo of Touya before he joined the league. You never told him, but the night he revealed his full name to you, you scoured the internet for any photos from his previous life, but only ever finding the haunting school photo from news articles announcing the death of pro-hero Endeavor's eldest child.

"I'm not throwing any of these things away." You held the photo close to your chest, tears suddenly welling up in your eyes the moment they met with his own.

His eyes widen for a split second, before faltering into a soft, regretful gaze.

"There it is." He sighs.

Touya shoved the box in between you two off of the bed, reaching over to take you in his arms.

"You know, I was waiting for the waterworks all fucking day, I was almost sure you were looking forward to me dying."

"Shut up, I'm fine." You say, tilting your head back, letting the tears settle back in your eyes.

"You don't have to be fine, sweetheart." He mutters, bringing your head into his chest, holding you tight. "We can talk about it, you know."

"It's just.." You begin, pulling back with tears streaming down your cheeks now "..look at how perfect this is, Touya." You plea. "Look at us." You gesture to the mess of your bedroom with his belongings and boxes scattered around.

In another timeline, it would have been an image of you two moving in together. It's your first night. You're figuring out how to split the closet with him. Maybe you can have breakfast for dinner for the fun of it. You'll try to sleep early, but you two are giggling to yourselves until early in the morning. You two would sleep in until mid-afternoon, and spend the rest of the day in bed. He'd stay.

"I know. I'm sorry." He whispers, reaching up and swiping away your tears with his thumbs.

You knew that despite the end coming near, it was all still perfect- meeting him, knowing him, falling in love, spending his last moments with him. Last moments. The dread was creeping up your throat. How can you make time stop?

Touya knew deep in his heart that if there was anything that could have saved him, it would have been you. If he had just been a bit less rotten, if he had been born in a different hour, in a different body, he would have married you, given you a quiet life, and anything else you wanted. He wouldn't have this festering darkness inside of him threatening to overcome with every passing second. He wouldn't have been born with a single purpose. His life could have been yours for the taking.

"Promise you don't hate me for this?" He hangs his head to rest on your shoulder.

"I could never hate you." You rake a hand through his hair, letting the other rest on the nape of his neck. "I'll think about you for the rest of my life. I'll celebrate your birthday every year. I'll talk to you every night before I go to sleep. I'll tell everyone about my partner and how big his heart was and how he made the stars shine for me. I'll love you forever."

"In another universe, I would have given you everything." He murmurs.

You two silently settled in bed, tightly wrapped in each other's arms as you laid your head on his chest, and taking in his heartbeat by memory, being sure to lock the gentle sound in your head.

"What do you think you'll do after?" He breaks the silence, hand running up and down your back.

"Maybe find God or something?" You sigh. "I dunno."

"Don't make me fucking laugh." He chuckles, almost making your eyes water again from hearing and feeling the deep vibrations through his chest. "God does not want to find you, that's for damn sure."

"Well ask him for me, when you see him, yeah?"

"So sorry to break this to you, babe, but I don't think I'll be meeting God tomorrow." You could hear a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I guess I'll see you in hell then." You look up at him, meeting his eyes in the moonlight leaking in from the open window. "Put in a good word for me."

"That's more like it." He presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You two silently ask yourselves the same question. Will he be fine after tomorrow? Will you be fine after tomorrow? Will that little boy in the burnt photo be at peace? Will you be able to go on?

"Any last secrets?" You ask, half joking. "Or any burning piece of information you've been keeping from me? Now would be a great time to unpack."

He takes a moment to think.

"When you go through the rest of my clothes, in one of my pant pockets, I still have the wrapper of the condom we used from the first time we fucked."

You slap your palm down on his chest.

"Dumbass." You laugh. "Why the fuck would you still have that?"

"What can I say, I'm a sentimental guy. Put it in a scrapbook or some shit." He shrugs, smiling at the thought.

"Yeah. I will." You half laugh, half choke out, silent tears now staining his shirt. "I have a secret too."

"Go for it."

"What if I told you I already killed your dad so there's no need for you to go out tomorrow?"

He shifts his body to face you now, slinging an arm over your waist and pulling your body flush to him. The air was filled with you silently sobbing behind your hands. You told yourself you'd be brave for him, but the bitterness in your heart had been leaking. It was circulating in your blood, and you couldn't pretend like it wasn't killing you from the inside anymore.

"I'd say, cool." He presses his cheek against your forehead. "And then we'll stay like this all day. Or maybe we'll take the first plane ride out of Japan. Wherever you'd wanna go, I'll follow you."

"Yeah. I'd like that." You say in between sniffles. "I think it'd be nice to leave Japan. Just for a bit."

You wondered if this was acceptance or denial. You could laugh and cry about it now that you're in Touya's arms while you two were waiting for the sun to come up, but for a long time, you saw the headlights in the distance, and the humming slowly growing louder in anticipation as tomorrow crept closer and closer.

In this moment, you accepted that you would grieve for him much longer than you were able to love him. You denied that he would be leaving you in a few short hours. You accepted that this was a necessary evil that had to be taken care of. You denied that this was the only way.

In another universe, you won't have to miss him. In another universe, he doesn't have to die for this. In every single one, you love him for as long as you'll remember him. In every single one, he'll survive through you.

You eventually hear his breathing slow down into deep inhale and exhales through his mouth. This was your last act of love for each other while you two walked this Earth together- a quiet night in each other's arms.

You memorized the patterns of his scars, the way they brushed against your skin. The color of his eyes you would see in the ocean. His silver hair still clumped in your hairbrush sitting on your bathroom counter. His love dazed expression is captured on a photo strip hidden in your wallet. Maybe he'll live forever, after all.

He'll wonder how long it'll be under you check your glove department for his letter. Knowing you, it'll at least be a few weeks.

"Idiot." He thinks to himself.

Your laugh echos in his head right before he's engulfed in flames. He wonders if your homemade cream could heal these new burns. Can you see him now? Tell him you're proud. Death isn't so sweet as he imagined, he wants to tell you, but seeing your face dissolve with his vision as he burns up is as close to heaven as he'll get.

In the end, you were right. You always were. It is nice to leave Japan. Just for a bit.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Fifteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader are really enjoying being in L-O-V-E, which makes them a little careless. Daddy Fin likes to make gestures. Kaeda thinks she’s smart but she fucking AIN’T. The night of the ball arrives.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Some very light depictions of sex (not really smut). A light sprinkling of the ol’ violence.

Fingers rake slowly through your hair.

They belong to hands that have felt such torturous agony, and have been left with scars to show for it — but their touch is as light and as loving as a warm summer breeze.

Azriel’s body shudders against yours as he stares down at you. The hand that toys with the strands of your hair moves to brush a tender caress to your cheek, and his panting breaths land on your lips.

“I love you.” He whispers, not for the first time that morning.

Barely morning, in fact. The sun is not yet up, and even the dorms are still blanketed in silence. It’s the third time in a week you’ve snuck away to steal a few hours with Azriel — with Rhysand’s valued help. Your friend will return you to Velaris before Fin can even discover you left.

You push up onto your elbows, capturing Azriel in a languid kiss. And you murmur through a smile, “I love you, too.”

He also smiles. Your body is aware of his every touch as he pulls out of you and settles at your side, tugging the sheet over your naked bodies. The dorms aren’t the most romantic setting for you to lose yourselves in each other, no, but the mutual need for one another’s touches is getting—

Well. Quite frankly…out of hand. In a good way. The best way.

Gone is the endearing, nervous Azriel of that first sexual encounter. In his place is a male who knows your body like he’s been painting it with love for years — and not the mere two weeks since you first slept together.

Perhaps it wasn’t practice he needed at all, but rather…you. Just you.

He rests his head beside yours on the pillow, and his hand is clasping your cheek and turning your face towards his. “Sleep here with me.” He says.

A soft groan leaves you. Never would you have thought a night in the dorms would sound like heaven, but with Azriel, it really does. “I wish I could. I have to go back.”

“For how much longer?”

“I think Fin will make his decisions on the night of the ball. He knows what I think…what I want him to decide. And whatever choice he makes, I’ll come back here after — to you. I just hope I don’t fail in convincing him where Tathaln is concerned.”

Az twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. “You will not have failed. Whatever the outcome.”

You stare back at him. “We’ll be together regardless.”

“Yes.” He agrees. “We will. Let them screw with the camps, if they must. But wherever you go, I go, too.”

There is such ease in reaching forward to slant your mouth over his, that you almost forget how close you came to losing the opportunity of that simple gesture. The thought has you leaning in closer, throwing everything you think and feel into that kiss. You feel Azriel gasp against your lips, and you can’t hide your smile.

“One more week until the ball.” You say as you pull back. “Just one more week.”

Azriel studies you, sliding a hand over your cheek. “I want a life with you.”

Gods, you want the same. And it takes everything in your power to keep thoughts of war at bay — to push away the conversation you had with Fin concerning humans and uprisings and battle being inevitable. Happiness sits right here in front of you, and you…you’re going to throw yourself into its open arms. Think about the bad stuff later.

But before you can kiss Azriel again, the door is flying open, and Rhysand’s leaning against the frame.

“Time’s up, lovebirds.” He says, biting into an apple. “I have to get the damsel back to her tower before first light.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rhys.” Az scrambles to pull the sheet tighter around you. “You ever heard of knocking? We need to get dressed.”

“I’ve seen Y/N’s tits literally so many times.”

A snarl comes from the shadowsinger, and Rhys’s violet gaze glitters with amusement.

You roll your eyes, sitting up and clutching the sheet to those tits he’s seen literally so many times. “Stop winding him up, Rhys. I’ll be right out.”

“You sure you don’t need help dressing—”

There’s another deep snarl, and Azriel is launching a pillow in your friend’s direction. Rhys is out of the room before it can hit him, bellowing a laugh that causes a sleepy, disgruntled resident of the dorms to call out, “Shut the fuck up!” Rhys shouts back, “You shut the fuck up!”

You make to push off the bed, but Az tenderly catches your wrist and kisses you again. “Go careful with the High Lord.” He pleads.

“Always.” You peck him once, twice. “I’ll be back in your arms before you know it.”

He tries his best, to his credit, to smile. But you recognise the worry that lurks behind it, exists in a glowering streak on his beautiful face.

It’s the same worry that prowls in your veins.

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

Rhys winnows you straight into your bedroom at Fin’s palace and parts with a kiss to your cheek — and a playful thank fuck you and Az sorted your shit out.

To which you’d promptly told him to go get his dick sucked by Zakai.

To which he’d promptly told you that he most definitely planned to.

Alone in your room, now, you feel…light.

Staring down the large bedroom filled to the brim with luxuries, you feel…content. Content to know you will soon be walking away from this and back to where you may have the bare necessities, but you — most importantly — have love waiting for you.

Perhaps you are a naïve fool in love. But with that love…anything seems possible, somehow.

You quickly change into your nightgown, not wanting to rouse suspicion by bathing too early in the morning — even if Fin does consider himself privy to your sleeping habits, he knows also that you have a routine. Doing anything outside of that may just pique his interest a little too close for comfort.

So you’ll sleep. Not for long; a few hours, maybe. And when daylight bathes Velaris, you’ll return to your scheming.

One week to go.

One week.

That thought becomes loud — too loud — the second you slip between the sheets. You want to shove a pillow over your head and attempt to block it out, but one urgent thought turns to another, another, and any tiredness that may have begun to bleed into your bones is interrupted by the very realisation that soon…things will be happening, moving along, soon.

You toss under the blanket, huffing quietly to yourself. But a slow, measured inhale of breath brings with it the lingering scent of Azriel, and it’s an immediate relaxant, a soothing presence of cedar and frost and—

You jolt at the click of your door echoing through the room. The sound of it opening.

The sky has lightened enough outside to lend little shafts of daylight to the room, but not bright enough to see much. You sit up quickly, watching the door inch open.

Footsteps thud against the floor, and Fin is emerging, his tall, muscled outline undeniable even in the dimness of the room. Your body tenses. You watch, stunned, as he strides further into your room, an object clutched in his hands. He heads straight for the desk.

Perhaps it’s foolish of you, but you reach over and lay your palm over the small orb on your bedside table. The touch has faelight blooming in the area, a golden glow that illuminates it just enough for you to see Fin stop in his tracks and turn towards you—

Flowers. He holds a bouquet of gorgeous, peach-coloured flowers in his hand. He meets your gaze, and pink dusts his cheeks.

“…did I wake you?” He swallows, shifting on the spot. “I’m sorry — I was trying to be quiet.”

You swallow, also. You eye him. The flowers. Him again. It makes you feel strange to have him here, in your room, at this hour. To think he came with a nice gesture.

It takes you a second or two to remember the role you’re playing. You force your shoulders to relax and plaster an airy smile on your face, drinking those flowers in with genuine surprise.

“Those are for me?” You ask.

Fin glances at the bouquet like he forgot, entirely, that he was even holding it. He clears his throat and nods. “Yes — I, uh…I got them from the Summer Court. You can only find them there. They’re called—”

“Dusk-Light Blooms.” As you kick your sheets away and stand, your reaction isn’t entirely for show. “I know — I’ve read about them. They’re beautiful.”

The male’s brown eyes study you, and then the peach petals, and then you again. He inclines his head a little. “Almost as lovely as you.”

“You say such kind things to me, Fin.”

“I think you’re owed twenty years of kind things.” He straightens himself, handing the bouquet out to you. “I meant to leave them as a surprise for you to wake up to. A parting gift, also. I’ll be away on business for the next couple of days and I…I didn’t want you to assume I left without thinking of you.”

There are such warring, conflicting feelings inside you that they almost knock you off your feet. Make you want to sit down.

Firstly, you almost feel like a wretch — for playing a game, and playing it so well. Who knew that you could charm a High Lord, make him so besotted by you? His kindness is not for show. He genuinely holds you in high regard.

And then a little bit of anger slips in. Because whether he and Roza honour their bond or not, Roza is his mate — his very pregnant mate. His very pregnant mate that’s currently sleeping in her quarters of the palace. It sits funny inside you that he’s not leaving her a beautiful bouquet of Dusk-Light Blooms before he parts for business. That he’s not more concerned about leaving her and the babe behind when he leaves.

But you suppose that means you’re a temptress, a wretched, seductive little thing. You have filled the High Lord’s brain with such sweet things that he can currently see no one and nothing but you. Manipulative, yes. But if it gets you your crucial result…if it saves Illyrians from Tathaln Baralas’s cunning mind…so be it.

Your voice is like syrup as you lift your gaze to his hickory-hued one and curl your lips into a smile. “I’ll look at these flowers while you’re gone.” You say. “And I’ll think of you.”

And it’s not an outright lie, because you probably will. You won’t be able to take in the beauty of those velvety petals without considering the fact that the High Lord of the Night Court went to the trouble of getting them for you in the first place.

“I’ll be thinking of you, too.” Fin turns, placing the bouquet onto the desk. He pauses with his back to you. “…I think of you a lot, in fact.”

“And I, you.” And Tathaln, and Fenlaros, and what a shit show this could turn into if things aren’t righted—

“If I could give you anything you wanted, Y/N, what would you ask for?”

He pivots so he’s facing you again, and the question leaves you stumped for a moment — even though the answer sits on your tongue.

You blink. “Anything?”

“Anything.” He dips his chin. “A house, a business to set you up for life, your father’s head on a spike for all to spit at—”

“I just want Tathaln Baralas to leave the Illyrian camps and their inhabitants alone.”

Fin stares at you. His head falls into a very slight tilt.

“It is by no means a glamorous place, Fin.” You breathe your words, unable to stop them pouring out of you. “It’s certainly not a gem like Velaris. But it works. The way it is has worked for hundreds of years — thousands. And where Tathaln thinks merging the camps would be the making of Illyria…I think it would be the death of it. In numerous aspects. Not just in the strength and training of its armies, but…in the strength of its families, too. There’s a lot to be righted about that place. Turning into one, huge cesspool of chaos and anger is not the way to do it.”

He knows all of this, of course…that you feel this way. But he stares at you like it’s the first time he’s hearing it, and he purses his lips. You can see the cogs turning in his mind. You let him think.

And when he steps closer to you, you do not step back. When he comes to within touching distance, you do not balk. Even when he raises a hand and taps the centre of your forehead with his finger.

“This,” he murmurs, “this mind is a brilliant thing. It should not go to waste.”

“I’m just speaking from the heart—”

“And from a logical standpoint, too. Your brain should be put to work on the council of a court. Not in a war camp where your excellence isn’t even seen, let alone appreciated.”

Your eyes dip to the floor. There’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” Fin draws even closer, and his hands are suddenly cupping your face, forcing you to gaze up at him. “You remind me so much of—”

He stops short.

For a moment, you can’t tell what cuts him off. You study his face for the answer.

And then you catch the very slight twitching of his nose. His brow furrows.

“You smell…different.” He says.

It is such a gargantuan effort to stop yourself from stiffening under his touch. To keep your expression mild, unperturbed.

“I don’t know what it is.” He sniffs again. “Familiar, but also…not.”

You swallow. Hard. “I used a different soap when I bathed before bed. I didn’t like the smell of it, so I threw it out.”

He leans in closer, and you stand still as his nose bumps the skin of your neck. He inhales deeply, slowly.

“…Cedar?” He guesses. “Cedar and…something else.”

“Yes.” You clear your throat. “I bought it from a market in Windhaven a while back. Like I said…I wasn’t fond of the scent.”

Such a lie. Such a godsdamned little lie.

But you will not give that away as Fin considers your words. You remain unflinching in your answer. You silently plead with him to believe you. If he could just believe you…you’ll kick yourself after he’s left, for not washing Azriel’s scent from your skin.

He slowly moves up your neck until his lips are at your cheek. Brushing the skin. “Interesting.” Is all he says, before pulling back. “I much prefer your scent.”

You bow your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He studies you. Closely. It seems to last for ages — so long that you grow restless on the spot.

But then a strange smile tugs his lips up, and he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger — a tender gesture. “Enjoy your flowers,” he says, “and don’t think of me too hard while I’m away.”

“I’ll try not to. And thank you — for the flowers.”

A deep laugh leaves him, and he’s brushing past you, striding back over to the door. Your heart is galloping inside your chest.

He stops with his hand rested on the doorknob, turning back to you. He tilts his head.

“If you have any more trouble sleeping,” he says, “just think about the night of the ball.” He opens the door. “I can do a great many things with my tongue.”

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

You’ve reread the note at least ten times, now.

Something just feels…off about it. Churns your gut.

Perhaps it’s that it’s your father’s handwriting that glares up at you, dark and ugly and smeared on the page. Even his hand is threatening, domineering.

I need to see you urgently. Meet me at the mead hall this afternoon, three o’clock.

Of course, you consider simply throwing the note into the fire and giving it no further thought — that’s certainly what your father deserves — but…you don’t know. For all his flaws, your father is not a hyperbolic male. You can’t imagine him stressing urgency without good reason. You can’t imagine him wanting to see you without good reason.

Azriel flies you from Velaris to Windhaven, his arms a supportive band around you. He can feel the tension tightly coiled in your body. As his shadows guide his way through the skies, he leans in and presses a kiss to the crease between your brows.

“I love you.” He says, and those three little words loosen some of your restlessness. “You’re sure you don’t want me to meet your father with you?”

Yes, you want him to. But whether or not it’s a good idea is a different story entirely.

“It’ll only make him more hostile.” You smile apologetically. “You know…how he feels about you.”

“And he should know how I feel about him. That I hope he gets eviscerated. Slowly.”

He’s not joking, but a quiet, nervous laugh rasps out of you, and that laugh softens the fury in his eyes and causes him to squeeze you tightly against him.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll stay away from the meeting. Not too far away, though. I’ll be nearby, and when he’s said his piece, I’m getting you straight out of there. We’ll go and buy hot chocolate.”

A smile curls your lips. “From the market stall?” The very one the two of you have been frequenting for years.

He leans in, kisses you again. “From the market stall.”

He sets you down a few buildings away from the mead hall and vows to wait. Something in his gaze as you part from him tells you that while he may not encroach on the meeting, his brilliant shadows will be putting the feelers out, keeping him updated. You expect — nor want — nothing less.

So close to Starfall, even Windhaven is mild enough that your heavy overcoat is starting to feel like a bad choice. Or perhaps the clamminess of your skin is from raw, nauseating anticipation. You do not want to do this. You would happily never see this male ever again. You wonder if it’s better to ignore his request and go running away from the building—

But you open the door and step inside before you can talk yourself out of it.

It’s always empty this time of day, when the Windhaven residents are finished with their lunch. The smells of roasted meat and potatoes still linger in the air, the warmth of the hearths still permeating the building. But it’s dark, and a little eerie, and that’s why you jump at the clipped footsteps that emerge from the kitchen.

The strange concoction of emotions you feel in that moment is jarring.

You’re both shocked and not shocked at all. Annoyed. Anxious. A little sick to your stomach. Kaeda holds your returned note in one of her hands. She chucks it onto the closest table.

“Wasn’t hard to imitate your father’s handwriting.”

You purse your lips, watching as she slides her hands into her pockets. You suppose you hadn’t considered this side of things — that she’d want to confront you about you and Azriel. But luring you here under false pretences…using your father to taunt you—

“Why.” You bite out. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop messing with my fucking work.”

Straight to the point, then. You take in her beautiful features, and oh, she’s angry. Her face is so pinched that it’s almost…not beautiful at all. Her vibrant hair is a flash of her temper.

But you’re angry, too. Livid. That she would use Azriel the way she did, play on his emotions, try to separate you…

“Azriel,” you snap, “is not your work. He’s not your anything.”

She stares at you, and her lips twitch. There’s amusement there, but it’s a sneer. A cold, calculating sneer.

“I knew, from the very first time he mentioned you, that you were going to be a problem.” She removes her hands from her pockets to fold her arms over her chest. “Azriel’s loyal little lapdog who’s so down bad for him that you’re loath to let him experience anyone else.”

“That’s bullshit, Kaeda. He didn’t want you. That had nothing to do with me.”

“Except it does. Because I could have convinced him if it weren’t for you, and then he would have come back to Fenlaros with me, and my fucking livelihood would not be hanging in the balance.”

Perhaps it makes you cold, but you don’t feel bad. It doesn’t grate on you that she may go from having everything, to having as little as you do. You feel…nothing.

She can sense that, you think. Just looking at you seems to incense her even more.

“If I can’t give my father what he wants,” she hisses, “I will lose everything.”

You shrug. “You play dumb games, Kaeda, and you win dumb prizes.”

“And what of the games you play? Word on the street is you’ve been cozying up to the High Lord. Does Azriel know just how far you’re willing to take it?”

If she’s trying to strike a nerve, it works. You try not to let it show as you straighten your back, hold your head up high. You may not be a seasoned schemer like she so clearly is, but your actions as of late are nothing to scoff at.

“Azriel knows,” you say, “that I am doing what I have to in order to stop your father destroying Illyria as we know it.”

“My father is trying to help Illyria—”

“Your father is power hungry and wants nothing more than to rule Illyria. Anyone can see that. And he’s using you to do it.”

“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing.”

A laugh breaks from you. “I know a great deal more than you do. And I know that if your father gets what he wants — and that’s a big if, because I will do whatever I have to to stop him — he will drop you so fucking fast, Kaeda—”

In the blink of an eye, she’s moving, and you’re suddenly slammed against the wall, her fingers wrapped around your throat. Her perfectly manicured nails bite into your skin as she squeezes.

“I didn’t come here to listen to your bullshit. It’s all steeped in jealousy, anyway, because my father actually loves me.”

“Your father,” you choke out, “needs you, Kaeda. He doesn’t love you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” She repeats, slamming you against the wall. Her hand squeezes your throat harder, tighter. “And stay out of the High Lord’s head. This is a warning. You do not want to cross me—”

Air punches your lungs so suddenly that you don’t even register the fact that Kaeda is ripped off of you. You slide down the wall, coughs shuddering from you, spotty vision just catching the way dark shadows snake out and launch the female across the room.

Azriel doesn’t even move from the spot he winnowed to. His shadows do all the work, shoving Kaeda against the opposite wall and pinning her there.

“This is a warning,” he intones quietly, dangerously, “that if you ever touch so much as a hair on Y/N’s head ever again, I will fucking destroy you and take great delight in doing so. Do you understand?”

Kaeda says nothing. Merely tries to fight against those shadows that only tighten the more she struggles. Az takes a step closer.

“We’ll attend your father’s little ball and face whatever he’s planning head-on.” His face is a sheet of icy rage. “But if you think we won’t retaliate, you’re sorely mistaken. It’s not too late to switch sides, Kaeda, and you’d be wise to do so before things really get out of hand.”

“Oh, fuck you—”

A shadow snaps out, and you can only watch in quiet horror — and delight — as it forges itself into a weapon that slices the skin of Kaeda’s cheek. Draws blood.

“I do not mess around where my loved ones are concerned, and you’ll do well to remember that.” Azriel watches with indifference as the blood trickles down. “You will never come for Y/N again. Won’t even look at her, in fact. Do you understand?”

The shadow-knife-sword-thing that cut her cheek now sits precariously at her neck. She tries to move, but her arms are bound to her sides. She’s backed into a corner and well and truly knows it.

“Don’t make me ask you a third time.” Az says.

“…Yes.” Kaeda grits out as the shadow presses against her neck. “I understand.”

And just like that, upon Azriel’s command, those shadows are loosening their grip on the redhead female, letting her go. She releases a staggered breath.

“You’ll regret this.” She seethes, pushing away from the wall. “Both of you will.”

She disappears before either of you have a chance to respond. All you can do is watch and watch those incredible shadows — watch as instead of returning to Azriel, they swim through the air, over to you. Their cool, gentle touch brushes the skin of your neck.

“My love,” Az is kneeling at your side, and he, too, brushes your neck. “I should have known. I’m sorry—”

You don’t allow the needless apology to linger between you — not as you reach out and pull Azriel into a heavy, heated kiss. It seems to knock him speechless for a moment, before he’s gripping your face and kissing you back.

And that kiss says everything. Tells him that you will not be intimidated out of loving him, out of wishing for a future with him. You will not stop until you get it.

You kiss him and kiss him until you’re both gasping for breath, your lips swollen and a little tender from the exertion. When you finally break away, just enough to meet his gaze, question swims in his hazel eyes. He wants to know what you’re thinking.

“We’re going to destroy them.” You promise breathlessly, pecking him once. “We’re going to stop them before they can stop us.”

He nods vigorously, hair falling into his eyes. “Yes.” He pecks you back, quick. “We are.”

“We’re going to tear them apart.” Another kiss, two, three — growing in desperation with each one. “Limb from limb.”

Your love, your heart, your soul, does not answer you with words. But rather, he answers by meeting your fire, your intensity.

His mouth captures yours again, and he’s scooping you up into his arms. And with the promise of a future lingering on both your lips and his, he lays you down and moulds his body to yours, exactly where this all first started.

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

A week later — the night of the ball — you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You can’t help wondering if…if you wouldn’t have been able to pull off this dress a mere few months ago. If this garment is only to be worn by the person you’ve grown into. It’s like seeing it for the first time all over again. Its glimmering beauty knocks words straight from your mind until you can only gape at yourself.

You are beautiful. You are brave. You are strong. You are capable.

The gown, the makeup, your hair…it only encourages you. Encourages you to be the kind of person who whispers honeyed words and brings High Lords to their knees.

As if right on cue, the door inches open behind you. Fin strolls in and stops a few steps away. Stares at you.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, and your coy expression is not for show. He picked out everything about your appearance. You want it to be pleasing for him.

And his will certainly be pleasing for anyone who claps eyes on him. The blue of his tailored suit matches the blue of your dress. He looks resplendent, regal, kingly — a High Lord through and through.

He seems to remember how to walk, how to talk. He blinks out of his daze, and his feet are moving again, carrying him closer to you. He stops just behind you, his body more or less pressed against yours.

“You—” He clears his throat, shaking his head. “You are a vision. I think I might be lost for words.”

Your painted lips curl upwards. “I imagine that doesn’t happen very often.”

“No,” he agrees. “It does not.”

He falls silent, his eyes drinking in your reflection, and you allow him the time to do so. If he’s aware of your trembling, he doesn’t let it show.

“You are a vision, too.” You tell him, watching as his eyes flick up to yours in the mirror. “Truly.”

His smile is, perhaps, a rare one. One so few people get to see. It gives away the softer side to him that you genuinely believe exists. The one that takes the compliment to heart.

But then his expression sobers, and he’s closing the minuscule gap between your bodies — pressing his front to your back and allowing his chin to drop to your shoulder. You try not to tense.

“Where the ball is being held,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating through you, “The Hewn City — Morrigan’s home…she calls it the Court of Nightmares.”

You’ve heard of it, of course. Its callous residents. And you would have happily never paid it a visit. But…needs must, and all that.

“I’ve heard it’s not the most pleasant of places.” You say, standing still against the warm hand that brushes your hip. “Is that why you don’t want Roza there while she’s pregnant?”

Fin hums in response. An agreeing noise. “Partially.” He concurs, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “But also because of what tonight will be.”

Your two reflections lock gazes with an intensity that turns your blood cold. “What will tonight be?”

The High Lord takes a moment to answer. He continues to stare at you, all the while stroking a thumb over the curve of your hip.

“Tonight, Y/N, will be one for the history books.” He eventually answers, and another kiss falls onto your shoulder. “Of that, I can assure you.”

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl @mybestfriendmademe

[fortheb0ys]

Nolan's a stupid bitch. I want him to sit on my face with some random Konni solider bouncing on my cock. Eating out Nolan till he's a sobbing mess. I want him embarrassed for being such a slut, for liking his ass ate by a man lower in rank.

I want Makarov to walk in and stop dead in his tracks. I want him off to the side palming the bulge in his pants, wishing it was him. Ordering the other soldier to get off of you. He'd throw him off and beat him within an inch of his life all while painfully hard. Getting harder with each punch or kick.

You can't see much as Nolan grids harder on your face, his moans now louder. The fucker's getting off but hearing his commander beat a guy to death. You shove you tongue in deeper as he cums on your chest. He's shaking from his orgasm but doing stop grinding, quickly getting hard, enjoying the painful overstimulatiom. Even as he comes down from his high he eyes never leave Makarov.

Once it's seems like the solider is dead, you hear Makarov sign as relexs and you see a devilish smirk on his face. You feel your neglect cock jump at the sight.

Nolan leans forward taking your cock in his mouth. Multitasking between grinding against your face and taking you fully.

Now you have a complete view of Makarov, who's bottom layer of clothing is now discarded.

He's bent over a small dresser, his back facing away from you and Nolan. He's covered in blood, the soldier's body at his feet.

Makarov reaches behind himself, working himself open with blood as a lubricant. You twitch again and Nolan let's out a moan that sends electricity through you.

After what feels like an eternity but is only a couple of minutes, Makarov walks over to the two sinful forms. A slight shake in his steps and his cock standing at full attention. A feared men losing his composure as he's anticipating getting fucked by one of his men. It was such a turnon that you had to well everything in your body not to cum down Nolan's throat.

Makarov gave a hard slap against the back of Nolan's head.

"Get the fuck up." Makarov said with a sneer.

Nolan not wanting to share the same fate as the solider pushed himself off your cock. A trail of saliva webs from his lips to your head.

Makarov is now lining himself to fuck himself on your cock. He grips your thigh trying to steady himself. You can feel the still warm blood of the soldier smear on your skin.

You could feel a wetness on your cock. Makarov tore himself, now he's bleeding on your cock. A few minutes of prep wasn't enough to handle to your girth. That didn't stop him from taking what he wanted from you. Immediately after his ass reached your balls, he began bouncing on your cock.

Makarov throws his head back as his eyes closed, just soaking in the painful stretch. The pain and pleasure mix together as one. Makarov couldn't have one without the other. You felt so good inside him. He wanted to keep you locked up, hard and ready for him at anytime.

Once his head cleared, he opened his eyes. He found himself disgusted being greeted by Nolan's face,his eyes blown in pleasure. He was still grinding on you, so close to getting off again. Makarov now angry that his view of the man pleasuring him was obscured by his second in command.

He grabs Nolan's throat, surprising the other as he stopped moving against you. Makarov brings his face close to him. Nolan can see the anger burn in his eyes and begin shaking, not from the orgasm this time.

"Get the fuck off of him. I want to be the only one he see." Makarov gives Nolan's throat a hard squeeze and throws him off of you.

Happy he now be the only man you can see, Makarov resumes his movements. He looks good and wants to put on a proformance, show you he's better than stupid little Nolan.

His muscler legs flex as he moves powerfully on your cock. He looks like he should be a porn star more than a war criminal. Like he was made to take cock than give order.

Something about having a powerful man ride you like he was born to, knowing full he could order his men to kill you or do it himself, was making it ten times more sexy. He'd never do it though. He would never be able to find someone who fucked him like you.

Your hands tightly grip his waist, pulling him down to meet your thrusts. His tight squeeze you so well. He felt even better than Nolan. Whose ass was looser from all the time he's fingered himself as he sucked you off while you were cleaning your weapon. You'd hold the gun to his temple and threatened to blow his brains off if he didn't get you off quickly.

The quiet sound of moaning brought you out of thought. Looking over to the source of the noise you see the solider still bearly alive, watching fearfully as the man who beat him ride you like he did nothing.

Makarov left him alive just enough to make him watch. The sick bastard. His cock dripped precum as he became turnon by the soldier's dying breaths.

To the man's left, Nolan had proped himself against the walls, stroking himself as he watched you and Makarov. The sound of their moans mixed with the soldier's last breaths filled the room.

They'd both cum as he watches the light fade from the man's eyes. Makarov lefted himself off your cock panting. He was pleased how much his body ached.

Cum and blood leaked out his throbbing hole.

Reaching down to scoop up the mixture, he rubbed it between his fingers before bringing it to his lips to suck it off. While he did it he made eye contact with you. You unwavering at his heavy glaze, feeling nk threat. He enjoyed it too much to kill you.

"You're mine. Only mine." Makarov growled as you pulled you into a rough kiss. You tasted yourself and dead man's blood on his tongue.

After that you had become Makarov's favourite little solider. You'd get special treatment. More money than you'd ever need. You just had to pleasure Makarov whenever and however he wanted.

Nolan nor anyone was allowed to touch you. You belonged souly to Makarov. He'd let Nolan watch, allowing him to get off while you fucked Makarov on Nolan's desk.

Anyone who didn't respect that rule would be found dead shortly after. Usually Makarov would make you fuck him in front of his dying victims, just to show them one last time what they could never have.

[cinnbar-bun]

Ace x Reader General HCs

Rating: SFW + NSFW (separated)

GN Reader

You can read on my AO3 here!

SFW

A loveable goofball who is like a puppy around you. It’s adorable but also, everyone in the Whitebeard Pirates roasts the hell out of him for how whipped he is for you. 

He has many different ways of reacting to you, depending on his mood, but there are a few sides that are common. 

Puppy Dog: Full blown puppy, golden retriever energy. He’s at your every beck and call and with a dopey smile on his face as he stands beside you. So happy and eager, and nary a frown in sight as he wants to cuddle and hug you lots. 

Flustered/Shy: This happens occasionally when you act forward with him/he’s caught off guard. He will turn the prettiest shade of red and his jaw will drop as he looks at you. Often mumbles and whines while covering his mouth. His face burns brighter if you or the other members bring it up. 

Smooth Operator: Unlike the other times when he turns into a tomato or suddenly becomes a dog, this is when he decides to “play” with you a bit. Sometimes teases you and whispers sweet-nothings in your ear. At this stage, he’s at his A-game and can handle whatever you throw at him (whether it’s your cute smile or flirting). Super into PDA and doesn’t react much besides laughing if the others tease him.

But regardless of what “side” of him appears, it’s always obvious how much he loves you. Marco jokingly asks when the wedding is and Whitebeard gruffly says he will host the biggest celebration for your wedding. 

Side note: if you two do actually go through with a wedding- Whitebeard doing his best to stay composed while a singular tear drops down his cheeks as you and Ace get married. He’s the proudest papa ever. 

Ace gets pouty and annoyed often if your attention is elsewhere. It’s never obsessive or intruding, but more like a “aw, and I thought you loved me,” type of joke where he wants a kiss on the cheek to “make him feel better”. 

Loves when you wear his hat and pose with it. 

Ace, despite his free nature, really does appreciate how you take care of him and ground him. Lord knows he jumps headfirst into things without thinking, so having you there is his reminder to take his life a bit more seriously. 

Sometimes, Ace questions how he got so lucky to have you in his life. It was just by chance you two met, but every day he feels blessed knowing he’s got you. Occasionally, he wonders if you’d ever leave him for someone “better”, but then you give him that smile and all his fears melt away.

Seriously, not joking, Ace’s favorite part of you is your smile. Your smile is gorgeous. Your smile is everything. Especially when you two are sailing together, or watching the sunset, or under a starry sky, he’s entranced by you. You have his whole heart, and when he sees you smile, he’s reminded of how badly he wants to explore the world with you and protect you. You’re his reason to keep fighting and living. 

NSFW 

When it comes to sex, Ace is eager. He’s not Sanji-levels of desperate, but if you’re offering, he’s taking it at any opportunity. 

Does not mind if it’s in public, on the floor, outside, in the back of an alley- if he’s having sex with you he doesn’t care. 

Ass man. Loves ass, loves your ass. He wants to bite your ass, spank your ass, eat your ass, fuck your ass- he just loves your booty. 

Also, if you wanted to eat his ass, hey, he ain’t complaining, either. You can do him in the ass as well! 

Major switch energy. He doesn’t mind being either the top or the bottom, because sex with him honestly just always ends up becoming you two mindlessly and energetically moving against each other. 

He’s very sloppy when it comes to sex. Not exactly in a bad way, but Ace is so eager to get it on with you that he’s just so wild and crazy in bed. Will go round after round just thrusting wildly into you. He loses some of his brain cells whenever he has sex with you, and just reverts to his base desires. 

The “sides” to him from the SFW portion apply here, too. Sometimes he will happily go at it with you and make stupid jokes. Sometimes he will be a blushing, whimpering mess as you have him on all fours, other times he will be whispering in your ear how good you feel while his fingers are caressing your lower half. 

Ace truly brings the heat during sex, no part of you will be untouched or unloved when you’re with him. He’s in love with your body and every part of you.

He does like certain aspects of roleplay, but he’s not too big on it. If you wore an outfit or made him wear one, that’s probably as far as it goes alongside a few quips before he’s moaning and yelling how amazing your ass feels. 

Also not too heavily into complete domination or submission. He doesn’t do well with mixing kinks into your daily lives, so he’s not going to be one to establish or follow “rules” or demand any expectation from you that you must follow outside of the bedroom. He’s pretty go-with-the-flow so he’d rather just have sex whenever ya’ll feel like it whatever way you two want it. 

Not too into heavily degradation. He can use some basic words like “whore” or “brat”, whatever, but he doesn’t find degrading you enjoyable for him. He loves you too much to truly degrade you, and most of his dirty talk is lewd praise. He also doesn’t care for being heavily degraded back. 

Now, praise? This boy has the biggest praise kink ever. Call him a “good boy” or compliment his body and he’ll have a proud look on his face as he continues to pleasure you. Seriously, praise him- you won’t regret it!

[its-luna-noel]

in my restless dreams, i see you | various!jjk x reader

02. i'm a vampire baby, get her back in blood

Vampire lord Ryomen Sukuna gives you the gift of eternal life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. vampire lord!sukuna x reader vampire!geto x reader vampire hunter!gojo x reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, vampire!au, smut, drinking, partying, non-con elements, blood drinking, vampire turning, violence & blood, definite dark themes so DD:DNE

word count: 2.5k

chapter 2/? previous chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: sukuna x reader, sukuna is rough and mean, unprotected, chok!ng, spank!ng. then we get into vampire bites & blood drinking, dub-con, vampire thrall state

Before you’re even through the door into your apartment, Sukuna is kissing you.

His mouth is hard on yours, lips pressed commandingly against yours as he backs you inside, slamming the door behind him. He’s already kicking off his shoes, hands reaching towards you to grab your thighs and lift you up like you weigh nothing, and you gasp into his mouth as he hoists you up into his arms and wraps your legs around his waist, hands coming down to reach under your skirt and squeeze your ass.

He starts walking through your apartment, breaking from your mouth just enough to ask, “Bedroom?”

You’re gasping, panting, as your arms wrap around his neck. “On the left.” And then you dive back in for another kiss.

One hand moves from your ass up to your hair, fingers knotting in your tresses as he holds you against his mouth, forcing you open like he’s flaying you alive.

You obey, and your lips part under his so softly, so pliantly, so desperately that he can’t help but groan. His tongue swipes into your mouth, and it warms under the heat of yours, acclimating to you as he tastes every corner, every inch of you he can reach while he walks you towards your bed. His hand gropes roughly at your ass, nails digging into the plush flesh there while his other hand tilts your head, opening you even further for him before pushing you roughly onto the bed beneath his body.

You’ve never had someone treat you like this, and it’s intoxicating, delicious.

Sukuna’s chest rumbles as he hums and pulls back, carmine gaze trailing over your body. You already look debauched, lips swollen from his rough kisses, and he smirks down at you, wondering just how far he can take you.

Just how utterly he can ruin you.

His hands squeeze your hips as he looks you over. “Deciding what I want first…” he says, his voice a mocking imitation of affection. “Every part of you just looks so damn delicious. What d’ya say, sweetheart; what should I take first?”

You just gaze up at him, eyes wide and trusting and so fucking innocent. “Anything you want,” you tell him, and it sounds like a promise.

He laughs, a derisive sound that makes you flinch. “Anything, huh? Well, aren’t you just an obedient little thing.” He grabs your hips a little tighter and rolls you over so you’re laying on your stomach below him. “You sure you mean that, little girl?”

His words send a shock of fear through you, but you nod, because you’re willing to give him anything, everything, just so long as he keeps those hands on you.

He chuckles again, and the sound is dark and dangerous as he pushes your dress up around your hips, revealing your lacy black panties. He hums quietly, reaching forward to snap the elastic band against your hip. You jump slightly at the feeling. “Slutty little thing, aren’t you?” His hand moves down, over the curve of your ass, until his fingers can stroke your core through your underwear, rubbing you with the pads of his fingers from behind. “And so fucking eager. Practically dripping and I’ve barely even touched you.” He reaches back up and dips his fingers under the elastic waistband, pulling them down your legs and throwing them to the side.

His fingers then return to your pussy, which is indeed so wet you’re nearly dripping onto the bed below. He puts one hand on your low back and pushes, until your chest hits the mattress, bending you in presentation so your bare ass is up in the air for him. You can feel him behind you, can feel his heavy gaze on your weeping folds, and then he dips his head down, licking a long stripe up your cunt from behind.

You gasp into the pillows, burying your face in the fabric.

He chuckles into you, and you can feel the vibrations pass through your body, as he opens his mouth and laps against your swollen clit once, twice. “Taste so fucking good,” he rumbles, and then he reaches up and parts your wet lower lips with his fingers.

He pushes two long, thick fingers inside you without warning, without pretense, and you yelp in surprise, body jolting forward to try and escape the suffocating sensations. He wraps one strong arm around your waist, holding you in place while he pumps his fingers inside you.

“Now, now,” he says, and you can hear the arrogant, sadistic grin in his voice as he speaks. “Don’t run away from me, little girl. You asked for this, remember? You said I could take anything I wanted, so that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna make this fucking pussy weep for me, and you’re gonna sit here and let me. You got that?”

You just whimper, because you can’t manage anything else while he stretches you open so forcefully.

Your cunt, in your silence, does all the talking.

“Yeah,” Sukuna rumbles, his fingers still shoving inside you roughly, and it hardly seems like he even cares if he’s making it feel good, but that somehow just makes you even wetter, “that’s all I needed to hear. Listen to her whine and beg for me, little girl; can’t you hear it?” You can; you can hear the filthy squelching noises, the wet suction squeezing around his fingers so noisily. “She tells me exactly what I need to know, huh? Tells me exactly where to put these fucking fingers–” And as he speaks, he tilts his hand just a little, and he hits your g-spot in harsh movements, tugging desperate cries from between your lips.

“Ah, Sukuna!” you gasp, hips jolting beneath him, torn between chasing that high and running away from it.

In one rapid movement, he rips his hand from your cunt, leaving you clenching down around the empty space. You let out a loud, pathetic whine, but you can’t even ask him what he’s doing before his hand comes down on your ass, hard, with a loud smack.

“Quit running,” he snarls, and his arm wraps around you tighter, locking you beneath him. “You asked for this, didn’t you?” When you just whimper, he slaps your ass again, this time even harder. You gasp at the sharp sting, at the devastating, tantalizing pain. He speaks slowly, like you’re too fucking stupid to understand him. “I said, you asked for this, didn’t you? Nod.”

You nod, following his instruction, and you flinch when his hand touches your ass again, but you’re relieved when he simply rubs your reddened skin, soothing the stinging ache. “Yeah,” he says, hand trailing lower again, “you asked for it. And now you’re gonna take it, like I said.”

He shoves his fingers back inside, finding your g-spot again on the first stroke.

You cry out again, and your vision sparks white as his other fingers rub expertly against your clit with every thrust, driving you quickly, devastatingly so, towards an orgasm. And when you start to clamp down around his fingers, your slick dripping down his hand, he just grins maliciously, licking his lips.

“You gonna cum?” he asks, voice mockingly soft.

You nod, lips parted and eyes rolling back as he sends you crashing towards it.

“Ask for it,” he says, and his hand stills inside you, despite your desperate whines for him to continue. His other hand smacks your ass again. “I said, ask for it. Dumb fucking slut.”

You whimper at his words and obey his command. “Please, let me cum.”

He puts his lips to your ear. “Couldn’t hear you.”

You repeat it, louder this time. “Please, Sukuna! Please let me cum.”

“That’s a good girl.” And without additional preamble, he rams his fingers inside you again, even faster and harder than before, and it suddenly becomes clear that he’d been holding back.

Your vision goes white when you cum around his fingers.

He licks his lips again at the sight of you drenching him, drowning his hand in sticky wet arousal as you squeeze down around him. Then he pulls his hand from you, motions rough, and your hips buck slightly at his absence.

You hear the metallic sound of him undoing his belt, and he doesn’t even give you time to look over your shoulder at his beautiful fucking cock before he takes it in his hand and pushes between your messy folds. You gasp at the sensation, eyes widening at the searing sting of his head breaching your entrance.

His dick is huge, monstrous, the biggest one you’ve ever fucking taken, and it feels like he’s splitting you in half as he slides inside, pushing the thick head past your weeping slit, and you wanna run but you know that’ll just get you in more trouble. So you stay frozen in place, gasping and whimpering and moaning out in agony-tainted ecstasy, and he just chuckles, the sound strained as you clamp down around him.

“Relax, little girl,” he says, rutting his hips forward, pushing past muscles that ache to keep him out. “Or I’ll never fit.”

And so you breathe, your diaphragm dropping and taking your pelvic floor muscles with it, and with another thrust Sukuna seats himself further inside you, and even through his stoic silences you can hear the smallest choking sound as you take him in.

“Slutty fucking pussy,” he grits between his teeth, and he pushes forward again, splitting you open with a delicious sting, and he’s fully seated inside you and can’t help but groan, his head tilted back as he feels you clench around him. “Taking me– nghh– so fucking well.”

You can’t stop the mewling whines that fall from your lips as he starts moving, his pace quickly ramping up as he pulls all the way out and slams back into you, and you’re pretty sure he’s gonna come bursting out of your mouth at how deeply he’s fucking you. But all that actually comes out is “ah! ah! ah!” so loudly you’re sure your neighbors will put a complaint in.

He slaps your ass while he pounds into you, leaving another bright red handprint in his wake. “So fucking loud. You always like this, huh? Always such a noisy fucking girl?”

You don’t answer; you’re not sure he’s looking for one. You just grip the pillows tighter because oh fucking christ he’s going to break you, and the least you can do is hold on while he does.

Before you can brace yourself, before you can even tell what he’s doing, he reaches one hand around and grabs you by the throat, lifting your upper body so you’re bent perfectly in half while he rams his thick cock inside you, your back pressed against his hard chest. And he continues to pump inside you, and you’re crying out for a reprieve, but he doesn’t heed your calls as he presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your throat.

His tongue traces over your pulse point, and you shiver as he kisses the sensitive skin, a shiver running up your spine. And then, with your heartbeat hammering against his lips, heat warming his cool mouth, he parts his lips and scrapes his teeth against your neck. You shiver again, head tipping back against his shoulder, and your eyes flutter closed.

He just smirks against your skin. So pliant, so ready.

And then he sinks sharp fangs into your throat, and your eyes flash open.

You cry out at the sensation; it’s so much more painful than you were expecting. You’ve had rough lovers, but you’ve never had someone bite you like that– And then you feel heat leaking out of you, and your eyes widen when you realize that he made you bleed–

You’re about to pull away, about to ask him what the hell he was thinking, about to kick him out of your bed and out of your house. And then his lips purse against the puncture wound, and he sucks harshly on your neck.

Your eyes roll back into your head.

At first there’s a flash of icy pain, so cold you feel empty, and then you feel a paradoxical wave of heat flow through you. It starts in your belly as a soft burn, and then it fills your entire body all the way up to your brain, until your mind is foggy and warm, like you’re drunk and high on the best substances you’ve ever heard of. Sukuna can feel you relax under him, your body going slack, and he readjusts his hold on your neck, gripping tighter as he swallows a mouthful of your sweet blood. He can taste your arousal on it, can taste the waves of oxytocin pumping through your bloodstream, and he remembers why he does this, why he gets people so turned on and wasted on his body when he doesn’t give a damn about any of them: because it makes drinking their blood that much better.

He takes another long draw from your throat, and he hears you moan softly under him, and he grows impossibly harder as his strokes slow inside you, not wanting to jostle you out from under his mouth. And as he swallows this mouthful, he feels his veins thrum, feels heat course through his body like he’s alive again.

So he continues to drink from you, and you give yourself happily over to him, a soft smile on your lips.

He chuckles when he finally breaks free from your throat, licking traces of your blood from his lips, not daring to waste a single drop. “You like that, huh?” he teases, and he’s unsurprised when you nod and smile, going along with anything he says.

Fuck, he loves making a new thrall.

He licks the side of your neck as blood drips down towards your collarbones, and he picks the pace up again, starting to chase a high now that his dick is burning hot with your blood. He doesn’t necessarily give a shit if you cum again, and he knows that neither do you right now, so he just grabs your hips and ruts up into you with a grunt.

He doesn’t hold back, now that you’re so obedient for him.

He fucks you hard, hard enough that blood mixes with your slick and covers the head of his dick. But you don’t care, and he certainly doesn’t, besides the fact that he’s wasting precious blood where he can’t even taste it. But that doesn’t stop him from pushing even harder, even faster, while your cunt clamps down around him, milking him dry while he focuses on the aftertaste of your blood on his tongue.

He paints your wet walls with his seed, and he knows that in this state, you’re happy to take anything he gives.

thanks for reading! -luna xx prev. chapter | next chapter

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 5

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. Eventual smut and happy stuff. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 3550

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

JAKE POV

Jake sighs at the knock on his door and sits up in his bed. It’s too early. Last night was long, watching you struggle to not verbally defy his every attempt to help you. But your wing was inflamed, which would soon lead to your back becoming inflamed, and he knows you’re intelligent but is it so hard to understand that not taking care of the injury could mean infection? Being here does not make you immune to such ailments and yet you puffed and huffed and barely held your tongue at his cleaning the area and applying a bandage with ointment. And just when you’d had a conversation with him about you being good. Terribly disappointing. You better shape up if you intend to get what you want. 

“What, Javy?” Jake calls at the second knock. 

Javy enters Jake’s room and leans against the door after closing it behind him. “So? You taking her?” he asks. 

“Possibly,” Jake says, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “There are stipulations, but she’s determined. She’ll do whatever she has to to get there.”

Javy raises a brow. “Does that explain her cozying up to you yesterday?”

A slight smirk sneaks onto Jake’s face. ‘Cozying up’ is definitely one way to describe what you were doing the day before, although your actions were nowhere close to how affectionate you’re capable of being. There is plenty of passion in that body of yours that a few soft touches don’t do justice, but for now Jake will take what he can get. 

“It does,” Jake confirms with a nod. “She’s my clever little angel, but manipulative attempt or not, it’s not like I’m going to push her away.”

“Oh no, of course not,” Javy snorts. “You? Do the respectful thing?” With a shake of his head, he lets out a low whistle to which Jake rolls his eyes. The sarcasm in his friend’s tone is wildly unappreciated.

“Do you honestly expect any better of me?”

“Not these days,” Javy says, “but is it so horrible of me to want you to see the error of your decisions and change? When I offered you a life here you were a different man.”

A different man. A weaker man. A man who had nothing left to live for. 

Losing everything he once cared about—that is what changed him, but who’s to say the man he is today isn’t who he was always meant to be? Maybe it burrowed inside of him long ago and was waiting for the encouragement to expose itself. And what is so wrong about that? That doesn't make him a bad man. 

He was a man who was missing the drive and purpose he needed. But then—despite being under the cruelest of circumstances—he found it. And when you find purpose you have to take hold of it and claim it any way you can before it’s ripped away from you. If Javy still can’t understand that then it must be the type of thing you have to live for yourself in order to grasp how it feels.

Jake’s eyes contain a challenge against his friend’s stare as he leans forward to brace his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands. “You try having Fate fuck you over, and then we’ll see the kind of man you become,” he says.

Javy sighs and crosses his arms. “I’m not denying the poor timing of your first meeting, but you coped with that for years, and now that you’ve snapped–”

“I haven’t snapped,” Jake snaps.

“Yes, you have. She was moving up in her life, finding some happiness, trying to make some friends at a new job, and then you took her,” Javy tells him, but not to chastise. That lecture was one Jake received weeks ago and Javy knows another won’t alter what has been done. “And you can’t keep her in The Tower forever. When this catches up with you—because it will—what do you intend to do?”

“She will love me by then.”

“You’re hoping she will love you by then,” Javy counters, “And you’re hoping when questioned, she’ll lie for you.”

Jake groans and shoots to his feet, running a hand through his hair. Gesturing in the general direction of your room, he says, “If she loves me then she’ll be lying for both of us because she’ll know it’s the only way we can be together.”

“And if she doesn't?”

“I'm not entertaining ‘if she doesn't’,” Jake says harshly. “She will. I’ll get rid of that stubbornness and she’ll remember why she wanted me in the first place.”

Javy pushes up from his leaned position, nearing the blond. “She wanted you because the two of you had some kind of carnal pull to one another, but–”

“It’s more than that,” Jake stops him. “We share more than that. She just refuses to see it.”

But you will. You’ll come to your senses. He knows that it’s more than sex, but it’s because of that sex that he believes something in you felt him over the years even though you did not see him. That’s why it was so easy to come together that night. You don’t sleep with just anyone. You’re picky and careful, as you should be, but you showed no reservations when giving yourself to him. You weren’t timid when he stripped you of your clothes; you were too focused on ripping him out of his. You weren’t embarrassed by your sweet moans and pretty cries. You were comfortable around him, and you will be again. 

When Jake realizes Javy hasn’t spoken, he shoves his thoughts aside and pays closer attention to the look directed his way. It’s a medley of emotions. Skepticism and concern. Cautious hope and pity and acceptance. Acceptance of what, it’s hard to determine. Impending doom, likely, since Javy’s so sure of its inevitability.

Finally, Javy blinks. His lips stretch into a thin line, then he says, “Be smart about this, Jake.” 

And Jake replies, “I’m always smart.”

“You're not,” Javy has no shame in telling him. “That's the problem.”

—

READER POV

“You can’t speak to anyone from your past, you can’t be seen by anyone from your past, you have to stay in my sight at all times, and you can’t do anything that would jeopardize our ability to return here on time,” Jake says. “You break any of these rules and I drag you back before midnight.”

Raising a brow, you cross your arms over your chest. “You think I can’t manage that? I’ve complied with everything you’ve asked of me for two whole weeks.” 

Everything down to accepting his cupping of your cheek one night as he nearly kissed you. He hadn’t though, and his reasons for pulling back instead of taking what he wanted as he’s so used to doing robbed you of four hours of sleep.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to go rogue,” he says. “But you can’t. There are actual consequences I can’t protect you from.”

Yes, you know. He has mentioned that often. “Consequences, Angel. There are consequences to not following the rules.” For the last couple of weeks, it has felt like hours upon hours of the same droning on, the same lesson as if your short-term memory is flawed. But then he’d thrown in “It's your first time, and there’s a chance you’ll forget everything I’ve told you the minute you touch foot down there. You’ll be tempted to break them.” 

That was what finally struck a cord of concern.

Of course, it had crossed your mind to break them, even though you’d known of Jake’s fate when he had done the same, but if he had to warn you of the temptation, you wondered how tempting it would really be. Would you be spending your precious, limited time there miserable because of the invisible chains on your wrists and ankles and the gag in your mouth as you try to resist the desperation to bond with the life you left behind?

“How tempted?” you had asked. 

You were taken aback by one look from him. A harshness was in the green, but you are no fool, and you could see exactly what it was concealing. A memory—pain. 

“Incredibly,” he’d told you. “At least, I was. And I paid for it.”

You hadn’t responded, but you kept his words in the back of your mind, ultimately deciding to trust in your strength. It was either that or risk never seeing home again, and that wasn't, and isn’t, an option for you. 

“I’m not going to do anything, Jake,” you swear. 

He peers into your eyes a little too long, but you let him search for the lie that isn’t there until he’s satisfied. He blinks and then gives a sharp nod. “Good,” he says. “Then close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close them,” he repeats. “You don’t need to know how to get where we’re going.”

Another thing to comply with. Rolling your eyes, you drop your arms to your sides. Jake pulls a blindfold out of his jeans pocket and folds it in thirds. 

“Seriously?”

He looks up and steps closer. “Close, your, eyes,” he instructs again.

With a sigh you do as he says, then he wraps the fabric around your head, tying a little knot in the back. 

“This is–” Stupid, you were going to say, but you’re cut off by the yelp that escapes your throat when you’re suddenly lifted into his arms, your legs and wings draped over his forearms. 

“Hold on Angel,” he says. 

Your hands clasp behind his neck. “Yea, no kidding.”

When he shoots up into the air, you have to tuck your head against his t-shirt to block out the rush and whirl of wind that’s quickly encompassing you. It’s all too fast, the pressure much too extreme that you feel as if you’ve gained thirty pounds in ten seconds. It’s the initial take-off of the rollercoasters at the theme park you went to as a child. The kind of feeling that locks your limbs in place. 

However, it’s not long that you’re going up before you begin to fall back down at a speed that suggests the man holding you can’t fly and you’re about to greet the end of your life. The sharp change in movement twists and curls your insides. Your lungs are confused, unsure whether inhaling or exhaling would better suit you at the moment. You don’t know, so you don’t breathe. 

Jake lands with a thud and sets you down on wobbly legs. One large hand wraps around your upper arm; the other slips the blindfold over your head and back into his pocket. You’re well-hidden behind a large tree as your eyes adjust to the bright neon lights that bleed from the city night.

Home. You’re home. You’re at the far end of a sidewalk by the docks that no one visits after six o’clock in the evening, but it’s still home, and you already feel yourself being sucked in by the central bustle of bodies and cars. 

You take a step forward, much weaker than you intended, and Jake’s grip on you tightens. 

“Not yet,” he says. “You need to shed your wings.” 

That detail had escaped you, the excitement too overpowering. But you keep that excitement from showing on the outside, just as you had when he’d told you a few days ago that removing the wings was possible for you, too.

Standing taller, you prepare yourself for more instructions.

“Close your eyes again,” he begins, his voice a deep vibration in your ear. “Clear your mind. Create an image of your wings and the feathers plucking free, falling to the ground one at a time until you have no more. Picture the bone and cartilage crumbling,” he says. “And keep doing that until you feel the loss of the weight.”

It takes at least a full minute, but you’re lighter. When you look down, your feathers coat the ground, a few layered with his. Like ash and snow. 

“Good,” he says, but his tone doesn’t match the praise. It’s the slightest bit wounded as if he’s grieving something he held dear. 

You turn your head. Your eyes flick to his and you find them glued to your back—your back which is now bare of the one thing that shows the world you’re something other than human. 

His Adam's apple bobs. “Let’s go,” he says. 

“Where can we?”

“Anywhere that keeps you from running into someone that would recognize you or would’ve been concerned about your sudden absence.”

That definitely knocks out work, the old late-night cafe you used to frequent, the park on third—too small. But as far as you know, everything else is fair game. And if it’s not, you’re sure Jake won’t hesitate to inform you.

—

The temptation he’d warned you about isn’t as aggressive as you anticipated. It’s there, for sure, but you don’t find yourself itching to be bold. There’s no one you wish to see, and you skirt the perimeters of the locations you choose because of the thought that you might fuck up and give him reasons not to bring you back in the future.

He should be thrilled with your behavior. He should be riding one of his ego trips from getting you to do what he wants without additional scolding, but that’s not what’s happening. Instead, he’s worse by the hour. 

Occasionally his eyes light up when you smile or chuckle at the places and things you haven’t seen for the month that has felt like a year, but between your grins and laughs, his face hasn’t once failed to fall. 

He has taken to trailing behind you. If both hands are not in his pockets it is because one is running through his hair or down his face. To your statements, he hums. To your questions, he mutters answers. He hates it, you realize. All of it. Almost as much as you hate the place he has forced you to exist in ever since he took you.

His mood is only exacerbated by your desire to go to your apartment.

“Can you hold this?” you ask as you raise the window. “Won’t stay up, and maintenance ignored all of my requests.”

Jake nods, placing his hand on the base of the sill so you can ease yourself through the opening. You do the same for him as he steps off the fire escape onto the ragged carpet of your living room floor. 

You take in the space, and it’s so…weird. Not a thing has shifted from the place you left it. The only additions left out of the memory you’ve kept in your mind are the layer of dust coating every surface and the slip of paper under your front door with Eviction Warning written in red lettering. And the smell. It doesn’t smell like you remember. You’re not immediately soaked in the scent of lavender essence left over from the half-burnt candle on the side table.

“Feels like I’ve been gone forever,” you say. You look over your shoulder at Jake. “Does time move differently there and I just didn’t notice?”

His hands are back in his pockets. His eyes are tired. “No, Angel,” he says.

Your sigh fades into a hum. 

As you move about the room, you measure it all with your eyes.

Your couch. You always sat on the right. That cushion is more worn than the other two. 

The lampshade is still crooked from when you last changed the lightbulb. Its poor alignment had caused a slight burn mark in the material from the shade leaning against the heat of the bulb, and yet, rather than straighten it out, you had twisted it on its diagonal axis so the mark faced the wall.

The TV remote is nowhere in sight, of course, because you were never the best at remembering where you put it down; a habit so frustrating you’re tempted to hunt for it now. 

Your coffee table still has the scratch in the middle from when you’d dropped your mug onto the wood, shattering it to pieces. That had pissed you off. You’d just bought it from the flea market.

A mug—you’d left one out that morning. You turn your head to your kitchen where it still sits on the counter. 

You walk over and grab it. There’s a coffee ring in the bottom, so you take it to the sink and wash it out, then flip it over to dry on a dishcloth. You weren’t a fan of leaving dishes scattered about, even for half a day, but you don’t know why it ever mattered. Since moving in, no one had entered this place but you, and well…him. 

Suddenly, something deep and thick descends upon you. Though the space around you appears to have frozen in time from the moment you disappeared, there are things that did not freeze along with it that you can’t ignore.

Like the food in your fridge and the special chocolate cookies in your cabinet that the grocery store rarely had in stock. Rotten and stale. What a waste. 

There’s a plant in your bathroom—a little one that relied on your sense of responsibility to keep it alive. It sits on a shelf in a dark purple pot you’d found on sale and now brittle leaves surely litter the tiles. 

And, oh god, the cat. You used to leave a bowl of tuna out for the stray cat that climbed the stairs to paw at your window. What about him? Is he ok? Did he give up after being ignored? How long did that take? Did he feel abandoned? Does he miss you?

Bracing your hands on the counter, your head falls forward. You close your eyes and take a breath, and then you open them and—Fuck, there’s a cheerio on the floor. You forgot the damn cheerio; that tiny ring of processed wheat from breakfast that has been hanging out here in limbo wondering if it’ll be trashed or devoured by ants because you were running late that morning and told yourself you’d throw it out later but you didn’t and so there’s a fucking cheerio on your floor. 

You can’t look at it, but then you don’t know where to look, or what to do. You don’t dare go into your bedroom. The sheets will be rumpled. Your underwear will be wherever it landed when it was taken off your body and tossed aside.

Shit, the laundry! You forgot to take it out of the washing machine. Mildew probably grew in the creases and folds. They'll have to go through the cycle again. You'll need detergent. You're out of detergent—used the last of it on the load that needs to be rewashed. Your favorite t-shirts are mixed in there somewhere. But it’s fine. You’ll do a quick wash, quick dry, quick fold, and put them in the drawer where they belong. How long could that take? An hour? Two? You have enough time, right? And while you're at it you really should set some tuna out and get rid of the spoiled food and fix the lampshade and find the remote and apologize to the plant and–

“We can pretend, Angel,” Jake whispers from behind you, making you jolt in your spot. You didn’t hear his approach—he keeps doing that—and he’s so close that his breath flutters wisps of your hair. “Forget everything, for a bit. Be the way we were that night.”

His disruption sidetracks you from the laundry, the cheerio, the cat, the plant, the food. For a second, you can barely process his words, but it doesn’t take long for the confusion to sort itself out.

You swallow. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to be human anymore,” you whisper, reminding him of what he has drilled into your brain again and again and again.

“You’re not,” he says. Then his arms are flanking your sides, palms pressing into the edge of the countertop. “But we look the part, don’t we?” Hot air is on your neck. You think you can hear his heart thumping. “Just tonight. Just here.”

Just here. Here, the last place you were before he made you into the creature you are. Here, the last place you can say that you were entirely you. Here, the last place you spent a happy moment. Your final happy moment. A moment that included him, back when you believed you were bringing home some guy. Just some guy. A beautiful guy. A human guy. 

You liked that human guy.

You miss that human guy.

Sometimes you wish he'd show up again. Save you and promise you it was all a nightmare.

“Why?” you ask.

“Don’t ask why,” he answers. “Just tell me yes.”

And because you don’t want to go back to thinking about what you’ve lost; because you’re uneasy and overwhelmed and numb and weak now that you're realizing home really isn’t home anymore but a ghostly echo of who you were, you don’t possess the mental wherewithal to care about your decisions. All you want is a memory—a good memory—within your reach. 

So you turn yourself right around, and you kiss him.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

"Luffy... help me..."

It's often been said about One Piece that you should "read it until Arlong Park," but it's one very specific MOMENT in Arlong Park that's important here. If this resonates with you, you're a One Piece fan, and if it doesn't, well, maybe it's not for you.

Let me tell you about it.

TRANSCRIPT:

Which are the best panels in One Piece?

It's often said in the One Piece community that you should stick with it until Arlong Park, and if you're not into One Piece by that point, THAT's when you know it's not a series for you.

I think this is true, and the reason why is this scene. This scene is how you know.

Nami has spent eight years working on her own, since she was a child of only ten, lying, deceiving, stealing, fighting and scamming, all to gather the money that Arlong wants so she can save her village. And now with the goal in sight, Arlong uses the Navy (all Marines are bastards) to steal her money so he can keep exploiting her.

The villagers she has been protecting have had enough, and are going to throw themselves at the fishmen and die, and the beloved friends she made on the Straw Hat Crew keep refusing to leave even though she KNOWS that Arlong will kill them. Her every ray of hope and all of her attempts at keeping control have failed and now, reduced to incoherent rage and sorrow, she sits in the dirt stabbing a dagger into the tattoo on her shoulder, because hurting herself is the only thing she can do to spite Arlong.

And then Luffy comes along and stops her.

She yells at him, throws dirt at him, rejects him, tells him to f*** off basically, and when he doesn't… because she has nothing else left, because there's no plan, because everything is falling down around her, she finally lets down her walls, and says what's in her heart. "Luffy… help me." (p 200, first panel)

And Luffy takes off his hat, his treasure, and gives it to her, and walks forward, and with his characteristic cartoony ridiculousness screams as loud he possibly can "OF COURSE I WILL."

Luffy doesn't know why she needs him. He doesn't know why she lied, why she stole the ship, he doesn't know about Belle-Mère or Nojiko or Nami's deal with Arlong. And he doesn't need to know, because she's his friend and she's his crew, and he loves her, she doesn't need a tragic backstory to deserve his help, she deserves it because she needs it, she deserves it because she asked.

Luffy knows that every time Nami tried to push him away, every time she told him to fuck off and leave her, her heart wasn't in it. Just like he'll know it with Robin, just like he'll know it with Sanji. And he knows that when she asks him for help, she has never meant anything more deeply in her life.

For that, he will move mountains. For that, he will level fortresses, he will smite gods and he will slay dragons. For love does Luffy do these things.

People hype up the moment when the crew get together and go to Arlong Park as the best moment of this chapter, and I'm not gonna say that it isn't awesome. Badass as hell, absolutely certified.

But… this chapter belongs to Nami, and her moment right here, because this is the moment that a girl who has fought so hard and so alone for so long finally finds the strength and the courage that it takes to trust someone else to lift your burdens.

[nikkalick]

Veilguard Spoilers below the cut. About the Blight, the current state of Southern Thedas, and the Veil…I’ve never made a rant like this so bear with my ramblings, please

I’ve seen so many people say, “We should’ve been able to tear down the Veil” and I feel like I’m going insane every time I see that take like…

MAMA A BLIGHT IS BEHIND IT??!

You think what happened to Southern Thedas was bad this game? You have no idea what’s in store for you if you open up the fucking Veil and let that trickle of Blight become a flood.

Point of Order just to set the scene with how bad the literal Blight is

“They (the writers/devs/Bioware/EA) nuked Southern Thedas so they don’t have to deal with the lore the past content set up there going forward”

Maybe. But also the only other Blight we’ve seen in game was the Fifth Blight. By all accounts a statistical anomaly in how it acted when compared to Blights 1-4. I don’t wanna delve too deep into this because it is so not the point I’m trying to make with this post, but the Architect very much had a hand in waking up Blight numero 5 and very likely impacted it in a way that made it less volatile. Past Blights saw Darkspawn hitting big populations hard and fast. The 5th started slow, in the wilds, at Ostagar. Away from large amounts of people. It is mentioned in DA:O that this Blight “feels different”.

The Blight we see in Veilguard is more in line with the Blights that came before the 5th. Something something the Inquisitor writing “worse than we have seen in living memory” because the only living memory anyone has of a Blight was the one from 20 years ago. Which was bad, but not as bad as they usually are. Veilguard’s is bad the way Blights are meant to be (if not worse because, ya know, the Gods), and it was still ONLY A TRICKLE OF WHAT THE BLIGHT IS BEHIND THE VEIL. If the full force of the Blight escapes the prison/the Fade that’s it. Goodnight to everyone in this world both within and without all of Thedas.

Moving on.

“Solas can move the Blight into the new prison that was meant for the Gods and then tear down the Veil. That was his plan.”

Sorry, did we play the same game? We know what the Blight is now. It’s the last remnants of the Titans. Twisted, broken, angry, nightmarish. It’s all that’s left. All that’s left are the plagued dreams of ancient beings that are so devastated because of what Mythal, Solas, and the rest of the Evanuris did to them with the very dagger we now hold.

I want to take a moment to address that what I’m about to say is said as someone who’s been trapped in Solavellen hell for years. I love Solas and his character, and I believe that yes, he had a plan that would have both moved (or killed) the remaining Evanuris and the Blight to a new prison while simultaneously tearing down the Fade. But if you, like me, wanted to redeem this idiot despite everything, then pray tell how does Solas locking up the Blight offer him said redemption?

How does locking away the only thing that remains of the Titans into a prison and throwing away the key redeem him? The Evanuris fucked up when using the Titan’s, idk…life blood? To take form. Solas fucked up when he, upon Mythal’s behest, created a weapon that sundered the Titan’s (and the Dwarves as whole) from their magic, from their dreams, from their very being. And they did it because they thought they had a right to. They put themselves above the dwarves and as a result they caused the Blight. And then they hid the Blight away. Yes, they hid it away to keep people safe, and yes, locking it and the Evanuris away when they tried to use what was essentially a bio weapon to maintain their position of power was a call that kept people safe for a long time. But the Veil was a consequence of that call. And while the Blight was trapped in its prison, behind the Veil, it got angrier and angrier with every passing generation.

Removing the Veil and shoving it into yet another prison will not only piss it off even more, but it doesn’t allow for Solas to actually atone for the part he played in its creation and the part he played in destroying what the dwarves used to have. He has to uphold the current prison. He has to go to it to try to soothe it. To heal it as best he can. Locking it away elsewhere, and then trying to offer it salvation after the fact? It’s not gonna cut it.

He has to go to the Black City, he has to face what he did, and he has to put aside his favorable bias towards giving the Elves “back what they lost” (a world current day Elves don’t remember and have never known) to instead put the safety and wellbeing of every being in the current world at a higher priority. That’s part of his redemption arc by the way; learning to value the lives of the people that walk this new world he had a hand in creating. Because when he wakes up before the start of DA:I he doesn’t value anyone. Shit, when Felassan declines to help him destroy the Veil and suggests he learns to appreciate the world that has been in place for centuries, Solas kills him for it.

All that said, he can’t fully put things right. He can’t reconnect the Blight with the dormant remains of the Titans. Because, as the game tells us, we’d then be faced with a bunch of Titans the size of mountains rampaging, rightfully so, because of the wrongs that were committed against them. But Solas can put in the work to find a way to ease its agony. And maybe, if given the time and the patience, one day the Veil could come down because the Blight will have had the opportunity and been given the help it needed to actually heal from the trauma that created it. And maybe taking the time to do that will have, in some small way, allowed him to make up for the shitty hand he played in destroying the Dwarves. A race he (finally) sees as his equal. Because that’s a big part of his fucking redemption arc.