#I imagined him with a set of wings

[feelingsinwinter]

Edward Elric - Fullmetal Alchemist

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Sephiroth but if he was desi... he is not beating the pretty boy allegations

"Desiroth" coined by my dearest bestie @nyatimesthree 🫶 thank you babes. anyway silly video I made and posted to instagram at 5am is under the cut

he estuans on my interius until i ira vehementi (sephiroth !!)

[ndostairlyrium]

super futile post but sometimes I think about Falon'Din and just wish he was included somewhere

In my head there's a picture of this tyrant that twirls their moustache and cackles maniacally as he pets a weird white animal, like an Austin Powers version of a Bond villain

Mythal at one point was so exhausted with his and Elgar'nan's shenanigans that she had to intervene (shocker). "Dude you and your dad are insufferable and you're incapable of throwing hands, just send your best guy to fight with his best guy so we all can have one (1) full night of sleep" [source]

In my imagination, the scene plays like that Raiders of the Lost Ark duel, with Falon'Din still arguing that the other champion shot (slashed??) first even centuries later

"That was an irregular blow and you know it!" gets set on fire*

"You have to agree with me or I'll throw a tantrum" gets himself a pair of wings [source] and knowing how extra this guy is, the wings are totally literal.

"Oh, my followers will love this" literally doesn't care about his followers, but he needs someone that compliments him and his weird white animal so he's gonna collect them all from unethical sources like a deranged Team Rocket grunt

This annoyed every other evanuri (Mythal) so much that Mythal had to rally them up to knock on his door and put him down themselves, or else he would steal or kill the majority of their followers [source]

I'd love to be a fly on the wall and watch him annoy the living hell out of his siblings

[smolbeandrabbles]

Me, reading this fic:

I ran out of tags! 🥲 It’s been so fun to read your work! 🥰 Especially of the certified Best Boy™️

I can’t wait to read more 💚

Dance with me? (Roronoa Zoro x f!reader)

Summary: you try to convince Zoro to dance to a slow song with you.

A/n: okay so i love dancing. And i love Zoro. So i thought: why not have Zoro dancing?! And then this idea came out 🤣 it's kinda short, just cause i wanted to write down this scenario ajskajakja i hope you like it though 🩷 this was slightly inspired by Selena Gomez's Body Heat. This song isn't as slow as the song i imagine them dancing to in the fic but the lyrics fit sooo well 🤭 also let's pretend there's a band playing at the Baratie lmaooo

Warnings: drinking, swearing, maybe ooc Zoro (i just had to get this man dancing yk ajskajksja)

"We're connected by the sun

And all of the stars above

You melt me and my body feels no shame

And I don't care tonight

If it burns too bright

'Cause, baby, that's why I came"

You were at the Baratie celebrating after very a successful mission!

Luffy and Usopp were inside eating as much as they could (like always lol) and you were outside watching the band play and the people dance.

Sitting with you and sharing drinks, there were your best friend Nami and your crush Roronoa Zoro.

Yep, you were crushing on the moss haired swordsman ever since you joined the straw hats.

You thought about confessing to him several times, but you were really afraid of being rejected and making things awkward at the Going Merry. No, you couldn't risk that, not when you loved your crew that much.

What you didn't know is that the pretty swordsman felt exactly the same, even though he tried to fight that feeling everytime you flashed your beautiful smile at him.

yeah two idiots secretly in love with each other oh well ajskajskaj

The three of you were just relaxing and drinking when the band started playing one of your favorite songs. It was a slow and romantic song that touched deep into your heart.

- oh my gosh, i love this song - you closed your eyes and started swaying to the beat. It felt wonderful.

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making you brave or if you just couldn't stand hiding your feelings anymore, but you turned to face Zoro and you were so certain of what you were saying even he was a bit surprised.

- come on, dance with me - you said, very sure of your words.

- what? No. I don't do "dancing", (Y/N). - Zoro replied, crossing his arms and looking away, knowing very well that if he kept looking at your beautiful eyes he was going to give in at some point.

- please, it's just one song... i can lead you - you said almost pleading.

You approached him and put your small hand on his strong arm (yep, the alcohol definitely was making you brave). That's when he couldn't resist anymore and turned to look at you.

- please, Zoro... for me?

The way you said that and tilted your head slightly to the side made Zoro feel something deep inside of him he never had felt before. How could he say no to you?

He rolled his eyes:

- okay, okay... but just one song. Make it quick.

You were so happy you nearly jumped out of your seat.

- yay!! It'll be short, i promise. Let's go! - you said clapping and happily standing up.

He got up too and you grabbed his hand to lead him to the dance area. Yes, you just grabbed the Roronoa Zoro's hand and pulled him with you. Maybe it weren't the drinks, maybe you were just really determined to be with him ajskajskaj

When you got there, you started giving him the directions.

- okay, you have to put your hands here - you grabbed both his hands and placed them on your waist. The touch was so soft and intimate it made your whole skin tingle - and i go here - you placed your arms around his neck.

You could feel he was still a bit suspicious about the whole thing for how tense his muscles felt, but you decided you were going to make that a good time for both of you.

- hey, you're tense - you said softly - just... relax, okay? I know it may seem scary but dancing is supposed to be fun. You don't have to be a pro to enjoy it, just... feel it. It's just you and I having a good time together. No pressure at all.

Little did you know Zoro wasn't feeling nervous because of the dancing. Well, maybe a bit (he had never done that before ajskajskaj), but it wasn't the main reason.

He was nervous for being that close to you. God knows what he could do being so close to the girl he had been crushing on for so long.

You ran your hands through his shoulders and arms, trying to calm him down and feeling his strong muscles slowly relaxing under your touch.

- now you just focus on the beat and move along. When i move right, you move right. When i go back, you go forward. Just... feel it and enjoy - you said kindly and you started moving with the song.

You both moved smoothly through the dance floor and it felt amazing.

- see, it's not that hard. I'm sure you've faced bigger challenges than this one, pirate hunter - you emphasized these two words in a mocking way.

That made him chuckle and look down, feeling a bit shy.

Yes! You made him laugh 🤩 you loved knowing you were the one to create such cute sight.

On the other hand: fuck, you made him laugh 💀 everytime he smiled it made you weak on your knees and you couldn't even think straight.

That's when you closed your eyes and rested your head on his chest, while you both just moved along to the beat. It was such a blissful moment, dancing to a song you loved and sharing it with a person you loved too.

Being there with him, enjoying the beat, feeling safe in Zoro's arms... you felt like you could live in that moment forever.

When you lifted your head and looked into his eyes again, it was like the rest of the world disappeared. There was just the two of you, holding each other and sharing loving looks.

You were so close and you could feel his eyes staring at your lips. You took that as a sign.

You cupped his cheek and slowly went in for a kiss.

Was that really happening?! You wanted to pinch yourself to check if all of that wasn't actually another delulu dream of yours.

But it was real. You could feel it.

The kiss was soft and sweet, but also full of emotion.

When you parted you were blushing madly so you just hid your face on his chest again and went back to dancing. This time you could feel he laid his head on top of yours too and that made your heart so warm. And that's because you didn't know he was enjoying it so much he had his eyes closed too, or else you would have exploded.

You knew at some point later you and Zoro would have to discuss feelings and stuff, but at that moment all that mattered was enjoying now.

You stayed like that for another few seconds until the song ended and everyone started clapping at the band. You and Zoro parted and smiled at each other. crap there was that pretty smile again

- see, you nailed it! - you said playfully punching him - thank you for coming with me, it was so nice. And i kept my promise, short and quick - you chuckled.

- yeah... now i kinda wish it lasted longer though - he said trying to look away to hide the small blush that was on his cheeks. Now besides smiling!Zoro, you also had him blushing?! It was definitely a dream.

You hooked your arm in his and led him out the dance area.

When you were going back to your seats, you saw Nami staring at you with a smug face. Damn, was she watching the whole thing?! Prepare for teasing in 3, 2...

- what a show, huh? - Nami said smirking and raising her eyebrows.

- shut up, Nami - Zoro said nonchalantly as he sat down and crossed his arms again, with that "100% done" face of his to try to hide the faint blush that was still on his cheeks.

You just chuckled and sat down for another drink, still feeling the bliss of that amazing moment you had just lived.

And you know what, the night was just beginning. Who knows what else could happen 😉

"Let's go all night

Just you and me

If you're the flame, I'm kerosene"

[buckyalpine]

Imagine feeling needy and sad when Bucky pays more attention to your very round, pregnant tummy instead of you. I mean he doesn't actually. You're his entire world and you come first no matter what but currently, you feel like the little super soldier you're carrying is getting much more love than you.

"How's my little plum" Bucky cooed, peppering kisses all over your tummy, snuggling against your skin after coming back from a mission. 2 weeks had never felt longer and you were craving your husband more than ever. As soon as you heard the rumble of the jet, you waddled from your room as best as you could, panting out of breath by the time you reached the living room.

You couldn't wait to have your Bucky safe in your arms again, giggling at the way he tossed his bag and jacket to the side haphazardly, running straight to you. You braced yourself for an attack and flurry of hugs and kisses he always greeted you with but it never came.

You squeaked as he picked you up and set you on the couch, lifting your shirt up to curl up with your belly, sighing contently as his scruffy cheek pressed against your warm skin. You brought your hand down to play with his soft cropped hair, longing to feel his arms hold you, his warm lips all over your face, his sweet words of how much he missed you and how happy he was to be back home with you again. Instead, the tiny soldier in your belly was hogging up all the time with his daddy.

Of course it was ridiculous. You knew Bucky loved you more than anything else in the world; he doted on you all the time, you were the most precious thing in this life. He adored you more than ever, worshipping your every being and ever since you'd told him he was going to be a father, he'd fallen in love with you more. You were giving him the family he dreamed of with his dream girl, you trusted him, you were carrying his little baby.

You will always be everything to him.

Yet you couldn't help but feel a little left out of the welcome party, your throat feeling tight, eyes starting to fill with tears. You missed him soo much and he was still busy nuzzling into your tummy, but not busy enough to miss the whimper that slipped past your lips.

"Baby?" Bucky's head shot up as soon as he heard what sounded like a cry but it couldn't be. His eyes filled with worry when he saw your sweet fallen face, indeed crying and poorly hiding it. "Why are you crying angel, what happened, is everything okay?"

His mind started to run a hundred miles a minute, ready to swoop you away to the med wing when shook your head, another wave of tears pooling when he reached out to wipe your cheeks.

"It's silly" You shrug with a sniffle but Bucky isn't having it.

"Tell me what's wrong baby" his baby blues pled with you, waiting to fix what was wrong because why was his perfect angel sad.

"I didn't get a hello kiss" You say with a pout and Bucky found himself stuck between wanting to cry and loving you more.

"I'm sorry, mama" Bucky coos, scooping you right up into his arms, cupping your cheek and placing a kiss onto your nose. Then your forehead. "M'sorry" He places a gently kiss to your still pouted lips, repeatedly peppering kisses till he hears you giggle. "You deserve all the hello kisses angel"

"I thought you didn't miss me" You whisper with your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent, all the anxiety you felt with him gone washing away in an instant.

"I missed you more than you know, baby" His lips move against your hair, "How could I not miss the pretty girl I fell so in love with, you're it for me"

He kept you in his arms, his hand slipping up your shirt to rub your back, the simple action nearly lulling you to sleep. He picks you up with ease, deciding to run a bath because he doesn't want to be away from your side for another minute and he keeps himself glued to you the entire time. Your back is against his chest, his hands coming up to massage your tense shoulders, kissing down your neck. He doesn't let go when it's time to rinse off, standing with both hands over your tummy as the hot water cascades over you both. He gets you dried off with a nice fluff towel before taking you to bed to sleep, frowning when you shuffled around in discomfort.

"I think your little plum misses you" You giggled between a squeak as baby Bucky kicked in your tummy, refusing to sleep until he heard his daddy's voice say goodnight. You gave him a pointed look as Bucky grinned, shimmying down the bed to rest between your legs at eyelevel with your belly. "Come talk to your son please"

"Quit kicking your ma" Bucky whispered, his metal hand patting the area where his baby boys tiny feet caused a ruckus, "time to let mommy rest, plum"

"Unbelievable" you huffed as the kicking stopped immediately, your little one settling contently while you also got comfortable against Bucky's chest. "So in love with his daddy"

"He gets it from you" Bucky smiled down at your content form, already half asleep, snug in his arms, "Pretty angel"

[wildfloweroutlaw]

Sticky Fingers

warnings: SMUT!! minors dni. some fluff. friends to lovers. switch!azriel. unprotected sex. oral (male and female receiving). underwear fetish. a bit of voyeurism. azriel is an after care king. wing play. shadow play. i really threw the kitchen sink at this one so lmk if i missed anything!

word count: ~7k WHOOPS my fingers slipped.

a/n: reader matches azriel’s freak!! this is more fleshed out continuation of this little piece AND my first ever azriel fic. for the sake of this story, let’s just assume that you can winnow to The House of Wind because let’s be fr, only being able to fly or walk up the 10,000 steps would be such an inconvenience. and to the one person who asked for this @darkbloodsly …. thank you ❤️

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Azriel’s little escapade in your bedroom a few weeks ago had been one of the most exciting things he’d done in quite some time. It was also one of the most violating. After he had returned to his room with your obscenely tiny pair of panties, he had been filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Shame. Guilt. Self loathing. But underneath all of that, the desire remained, unchecked and unbound.

Which is probably why every couple of days since that incident, he found himself staking out your room, waiting on you to leave The House so he could go in and rummage through your underwear drawer freely. He found that you had acquired a very intriguing collection. Several lacy black pairs, a pair that was a deep red and made of the softest silk, a strappy blue pair that he felt perfectly matched his siphons.

He couldn’t help but to let his mind run rampant, picturing you in every single one, picturing himself pulling them off of you. However, today’s discovery may have just been his most favorite of all.

Unsure of how he missed them all the times before, Azriel’s eyes caught on a light shade of pink. Digging to the very bottom of the drawer, he grasped the lovely material and pulled it free.

While not as daring or extravagant as some of the other items in your trove, this pair was sinfully soft and seemed so unlike anything you would normally wear. Instantly taken with the dainty pink shade and the tiny little bow adorning the front, Azriel decided that these would be his prize of the day.

Pocketing the skimpy undergarment, he sent several of his shadows through the house to ensure you were still out running errands. When they reported that the coast was clear, Azriel silently made his way down the hall and back to his own quarters.

A sick thrill went through his body and curled low in his stomach as he closed the door behind him. He pulled your lovely pink panties out of his pocket and studied them once more. Gods he should not be as turned on as he was by a pair of fucking underwear, but they were yours and they had touched you more intimately than he knew he ever would, no matter how often he dreamed of that.

Typically, Azriel held off on this part until it was late at night and everyone had already gone to sleep… but The House was empty for the next few hours and his cock was already painfully straining against his pants.

Fuck it. Pushing off the door, he made quick work of his clothes as he crossed the room to his large bed.

Laying back against his dark, plush pillows, Azriel made himself comfortable, tuning everything in the world out except for the thought of you and these godsdamned panties.

He palmed himself gently at first, the head of his cock already flushed and leaking with anticipation.

He imagined what your hands would feel like against him, how big he would look in your smaller hands, how you would stroke him. Would you prefer to pleasure him soft and tenderly? Or would you set a punishing pace with a tight grip? Azriel knew that he would let you touch him anyway you wanted to, he would let you do anything you wanted to him.

He let depraved images of all kinds fill his mind. He let himself imagine what your soft skin would feel like under his touch, let himself imagine what beautiful sounds he could pull from you. Azriel knew it was unlikely he would ever truly know, considering he had never allowed himself to openly pursue you. However, he supposed he would settle for your panties.

Finding the delicate fabric beside him on the bed, he brought the soft material that carried your sweet scent to his aching member. He shuddered at the first touch and let out a deep groan at the sensation. Several of his shadows trailed down his body, the cool sensation only adding to his pleasure. They always got rather excited when he used your undergarments in this way.

Seeing your panties against him like this always brought about a feeling of wrongness that only served to turn Azriel on even more. Now, watching the pink cloth and that fucking little bow caress his cock, he was fairly certain this could count as a sin.

And damn if that didn’t make his blood pump all the faster.

Fisting your panties against his cock, Azriel let his head fall back, soft black curls splaying upon his pillow. He allowed his mind continue to run wild with thoughts of you, deep guttural groans and soft moans of your name slipping from his lips.

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You opened the front door to The House, finding the place quiet. Which made sense considering Cassian had matters to tend to in Illyria this evening, and you were supposed to meet Nesta for dinner in just a little while. Azriel most likely had plans of his own that he almost never felt inclined to share.

You had been out running errands for the last few hours, but the evening had proved to be chillier than you anticipated. You decided to just run home and grab a sweater, assuming you would probably be out late with Nesta. Kicking off your shoes by the door, you made for the stairs.

As soon as you rounded the corner to your hallway, you were greeted by several of Azriel’s shadows.

Suppose he is here then.

The wispy tendrils wrapped themselves around you and begin to gently tug you down the hall. Confused but curious, you followed along hesitantly.

“Is everything okay?” You knew you would never get a response, but you always had a habit of speaking to Azriel’s shadows. You were actually very fond of them.

Several of the shadows trailed up your arms and twined into your hair. Apparently they had grown fond of you as well. The feeling of them against your skin was always something you enjoyed, and you found their presence to be very comforting.

You allowed them to lead you past your own bedroom door and down the hall to Az’s room. You found a few more shadows waiting outside, and they too greeted you warmly. Tugging you forward, the shadows continued to urge you towards the door. “I-I don’t understand…” you whispered to the wisps of darkness.

“(Y/N).”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and for a moment you questioned if you were hearing things. But you had heard your name, however faint. You were certain of it.

You raised your hand to knock on the door, not wanting to just barge in to Azriel’s room, even if he had presumably called out to you.

Before your fist could make contact with the wood, some of the shadows darted out, turning the knob and silently pushing the door open. You were certain your heart stopped beating as you took in the sight in front of you.

Azriel. With his head tossed back. Face dusted with pink. Large wings splayed across his bed, eyes screwed shut, plump lips parted, legs spread wide, tendrils of shadows trailing down his body.

And he was stark naked.

Oh gods. You should walk away. You should close the door and pretend you never even came home. But by the mother, he was pumping himself with his hand, hips bucking up in response, and you couldn’t help but drink in the beautiful sight and the lovely sounds tumbling from his lips.

This was wrong. You should not be here. You weren’t sure why his shadows had pulled you to his room, but Azriel’s lack of awareness of your presence made it clear this was not intended. And the longer you stood here, watching like a fucking pervert, the stronger the pulsing between your legs grew.

Suddenly your eyes caught on a piece of pink fabric clutched against Azriel’s… well, extremely large member. You quickly took note of the familiar tiny bow peaking out from his hand and you thought your heart was going to break free from your ribcage and leave you standing here like the fool that you were.

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Azriel was lost in his darkest fantasies. He wasn’t sure if it was the long week he had, or the way you had looked in that dress that fit you just right before you had left The House this afternoon, but he just completely gave himself to the pleasure.

And gods he could smell you, stronger than any other time before. Your lovely scent entrapped within the fabric of your panties seemed thicker, sweeter… headier.

Azriel’s eyes flew open, shooting to the other side of the room and he saw you, standing there. Face tinged with red, eyes wide, and chest heaving against your dress.

And he wanted to die.

With an unspoken command, the mass of his shadows flocked to him, some of them unfurling themselves from where they had been twinning around you, and came to conceal his naked form. of course he had left his clothes halfway across the room.

He pushed himself up off the bed and felt heat crawling up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He literally could not imagine a worse scenario than this.

Fuck, you would probably hate him after this. This would ruin your friendship for sure. You would want to move out of The House, far far away from him and his demented perversions. Azriel’s mind, once filled with glorious images of you, was now flooded with a whirlwind of thoughts. And none of them were good.

“(Y/N) I-I can explain-“ Azriel managed to stammer out. How could he explain this? He doubted there was any excuse he could come up with that wouldn’t make him look creepy. Maybe you hadn’t seen the panties? He could perhaps say they weren’t yours, even if you had seen, but he wasn’t sure how long you had been standing there.

“Those are mine.” You simply stated, as if you were telling him the sky was blue.

“I…. Well, I-“ gods be damned, this would be a good time to be able to form a cohesive thought. But his racing heart and overwhelming mortification were short circuiting his brain.

“And you said my name.” You took a step forward into the doorway. Azriel’s shadows were obscuring the majority of his body, and at your words, they seemed to grow all the more restless.

Azriel briefly considered winnowing out of his room and fleeing Velaris- No, Prythian. “(Y/N) I am so sorry, shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry. I-I know this is so wrong-“

You took another step forward. Well, you were already knee deep in this horrifically embarassing situation, for both of you it seemed. You may as well see where this takes you. “You can continue… if you are comfortable doing so, that is.”

Azriel’s heart stopped beating for probably the hundredth time in the last 5 minutes. “I… what?” His hazel eyes scanned your face for any sign of mockery or judgment or disgust.

“I was enjoying the show. Quite thoroughly, I must admit.” Your heart was thundering, and you were terrified of what Azriel might think. But you felt the overwhelming need to own up to invading his privacy, to watching him. To take control of this situation.

And he had very clearly been thinking of you… “If you are alright with it, you can carry on. Don’t feel like you must though. I can also leave if you’d like.” You motioned behind you to the door.

“You… aren’t angry with me?” Azriel’s shadows dissipated slightly, now he was visible to you from the chest up.

“Do I seem angry to you?” You asked, managing a smirk that you hoped made you look braver than you truly felt.

Azriel allowed himself to take you in fully now. You had been shocked, yes, but there was also something else dancing in your eyes. And your scent was slightly different than usual. He took a deep breath in, mind going quiet. You were aroused. “No. I suppose you don’t seem angry.”

Azriel allowed his shadows to slowly leave him, some of them choosing to return to you. A chill ran down his spine as he watched your eyes drink in his bare form.

He took a couple steps backward until he could rest on the edge of the bed.

He searched your face again, wanting to ensure that this was really alright with you. Finding no signs of discomfort, he plucked the dainty undergarment from the bedspread and began to tentatively work the material against his still hard cock. “Is this… what you wanted to see?”

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly again and you sucked in a breath at the sight of him. “Yes…” you sighed out, fingers going to the clasp of your dress at your neck. You quickly undid the mechanism and let the material fall and pool at your bare feet.

Azriel’s eyes widened and he let out a soft moan at the beautiful sight. You weren’t wearing a bra and stood before him in only your underwear, the tiny, lacey black pair that had originally caught his eye the very first time he thieved from your chambers.

What in the seven hells was happening? He decided not to question it, tightening his grip on his member and began to stroke more confidently.

Your eyes were glued to him, wandering from his proud wings, across his gorgeous face, down his heavily tattooed chest and muscled stomach, all the way to his scarred hand fisting your fucking panties against himself.

You had desired Azriel for so long, but he never pursued you beyond friendship. The male was notoriously difficult to read, and you were always too afraid to go beyond simply flirting with him in case he truly wasn’t interested in you. You never in your wildest dreams could have imagined this.

You took a few more steps forward, brushing your fingers against the erect tips of your breasts, sighing at the sensation. The pounding between your legs had amplified to an all out ache, and you were more than eager to find out just how far Azriel would let this go.

You now stood before him, between his spread legs, eyes locked to his hazel ones. You brushed back a stray lock of his dark hair, and lightly ran your fingers across his flushed cheek. “Do you enjoy pleasuring yourself with my panties Shadowsinger?” You let your eyes drift back down to where he worked himself.

Azriel was reveling in your sweet touches and felt there was no reason to attempt to deny the claim now. “Yes.” He groaned.

You felt a sudden surge of power, his words stroking your ego like his hand stroked his cock. “And is this the first time you’ve stolen a pair from my room for this purpose?”

Azriel tried to avert his eyes, still feeling ashamed of his actions, but your hand gripped his chin and turned his gaze up to meet yours. If his senses weren’t currently being overwhelmed with the scent of your arousal and you weren’t staring down at him like you wanted to devour him, he would have thought this was some cruel attempt to get him to confess. “No.” He answered honestly.

You smirked at his admittance and you could feel your panties growing more soaked by the second. You dropped to your knees before him and you could not deny that he looked like a god above you. He was absolutely divine. And your face was a mere foot from his cock. This was not at all how you had expected your evening to go, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

You took in the sight of his swollen tip, shaded an angry color of red from lack of release. His pre-cum had soaked both his member and the fabric of your panties, leaving him glistening in the evening light

“Fuck, you are so hard.”

Azriel moaned in response, as he watched you with curious eyes. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he loved that you were here with him, and seemed to be just as turned on as he was.

You inched your face a little closer, leaning between his thick thighs. “Oh Azzie, this seems rather uncomfortable. Would you allow me to help you?” You crooned as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Azriel felt like he could die happily any moment now. That nickname and the image of you, between his legs, staring up at him like that, was something that would stick with him long past the grave. However, a thousand protests rose to his mind.

He didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this. He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to, that you shouldn’t, because he was unworthy of your touch. But he stopped himself.

Everything told him that you wanted this too, wanted him. As hard as it was to believe, he did not think you would be here, responding so… positively, if you didn’t want to. However unworthy he felt that he was, he felt the desire to be selfish more.

He had dreamed of this for so long, and now the opportunity to have you, in whatever capacity, finally has arisen. He would be damned if he didn’t seize it.

“Yes. Please.” He didn’t care if the plead sounded pathetic. He needed you to touch him. Now.

With a grin that could only be described as devilish, you gently grasped his wrist, urging his hand away from his member. He still clutched the now spoiled pink panties in his hand. You tenderly pulled them from his grip, unbunching the material and letting it dangle in the space between you two.

You studied the damp fabric, glancing between it and Azriel’s face. “You’ve made such a pretty mess of these Az. I can tell how much you like them.”

Beyond words and drowning in anticipation, Azriel could only muster a nod in response.

You tossed the underwear across the room to join your dress. Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly gripped Azriel’s cock. You tested the waters with a gentle, almost teasing stroke and you felt him throb in your hand. You quickly glanced up at his face to see if he was still okay with this.

You found him leaned back on his palms and studying you intently, eyes half lidded and filled with desire. The look of sheer need gave you a shot of courage, and you tightened your grip slightly and increased your pace.

Azriel moaned out your name and your core turned to molten at the sound.

“Does that feel good, Az?” You cooed to him, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there.

“Gods, yes (Y/N). Touch me however you like… please.” He could not stop staring at you, your gorgeous practically naked form, and how small your hand looked wrapped around him.

This was better than any fantasy he had ever conjured up.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth at his praise, loving how it sounded in his deep voice. “How about this?” You leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gingerly.

Azriel short circuited, his entire body shuddering from the feel of your warm, wet mouth on him. He let his head loll back and his eyes flutter closed as a guttural groan reverberated from deep in his chest. “Fuck I- yes.” He gripped the blankets beneath him.

You hummed against him in response. You always felt that Azriel was too hard on himself, punishing himself for gods knew why. You were determined to spoil him with much deserved pleasure.

You licked him from root to stem before taking him deep, one hand working what you could not fit in your mouth, and the other gently caressing his balls.

Sounds that may have been considered embarrassing to some males, spewed from Azriel. He could not help it, nor did he care to hide them. You were making him feel this good and you deserved to hear that. “Sweet girl, shit- that feels incredible.” He growled.

As you continued your ministrations, Azriel worked a hand into your hair. Not forcing your head down, or applying any pressure, just reverently caressing your locks. He finally peered down at you again, discovering you staring back up at him, head bobbing up and down his length and moaning around him. He noticed you had brought one of your hands between your legs and were grinding your clothed cunt against your palm.

You were going to kill him.

You were going to suck him within an inch of his life, and the sight of you touching yourself to pleasuring him was going to send him on to the after life.

Just as Azriel was about to pull you off of him, you released his cock with a pop of your lips. You stood then, placing your hands on Azriel’s firm chest and urging him backwards. “Lay in the center of the bed for me please, Azzie.” You asked sweetly.

Azriel nodded and found himself scrambling backwards, doing as you said and moving to lay back. Azriel rarely ever relinquished control in the bedroom, preferring to service his lovers to their liking. However, he felt very comfortable following your lead and this was actually really lovely. Well, it was far beyond lovely.

You moved to hover over him, straddling his waist and you felt a thrill surge through your body at the sight of the massive Illyrian warrior beneath you. “Is it alright if I try something else?” You asked, still unsure about how much Azriel wanted from you.

He gingerly grasped your hand, one of the first few touches he had allowed himself since this all began, and guided it to his chest where he pinned it beneath his own larger hand. “Of course,” he rasped, “I told you already. Touch me however you like… I am yours.” The admission was vulnerable, but felt so right to him.

Your heart clenched at his words and you nodded, lowering your hips to his. You began to slowly, but firmly grind your still clothed pussy against his length, loosing an airy moan in response to the glorious contact.

“I bet my panties feel much better like this, hm?” You leaned down to murmur in his ear, nipping at his lobe.

Azriel shuddered underneath you, wings twitching against the sheets. “Y-yes, (Y/N). So much better.” His hands hesitantly reached up to grip your waist, giving you time to protest if you wanted. When you showed no objections, he tightened his hold on you and pulled you down against him, harder. Azriel delighted in the noise he drew from you.

He continued dragging your hips across him, both of you breathless at the sensation. “Gods above, you are so gorgeous…” He let one hand travel up to your breast, stroking a thumb across a hard nipple and smiling to himself when you cried out.

“Would you like to see what you’ve done to me?” You breathed against his neck, a hand tracing circles against his chest.

Azriel nodded, then almost protested when you pulled away from him. That was until he saw you standing at the end of the bed, slowly shimmying out of your panties. His breath hitched to see you completely and utterly bare before him, then sputtered out of him when he took in the way you crawled up the bed towards him.

Kneeling beside him, you pressed the soaked cotton of your underwear into Azriel’s hand. “You’ve turned me into a complete mess Az…” you confessed.

Azriel took in the absolutely drenched material, and let out an almost animalistic groan when he scented your arousal coating the fabric. “All of this is for me? I’ve barely gotten the chance to touch you yet.” He would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major boost to his ego.

He slipped an arm around your waist and turned, pinning you beneath him and slotting himself between your legs. “Let me change that…”

He pressed messy kisses along the length of your neck, sharp teeth grazing over a particularly sensitive area. Azriel reveled in the sound of your breathless moan and the way you pulled him tighter.

He dipped his head to lav at a nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger before latching his lips around the sensitive bud. Azriel slid a well muscled thigh against your leaking cunt, applying just enough pressure to have you gasping for air.

He did not miss how you rocked your hips against him, desperate for friction.

Thus far, Azriel had allowed you to take the lead, to show him how much you wanted from him, making him feel better than anyone ever had before. Now, Azriel wanted to return the favor and show you how good he can make you feel.

He kissed a path between your breasts and down your stomach, glancing up to find your bottom lip between your teeth and eyes pressed closed. He worked his way lower, and lower, until all he could smell was your heated sweetness.

He inhaled deeply, and let out a long breath that fanned against your sensitive cunt, causing chills to erupt all over your body.

Guiding each of your legs over his shoulders, his hands found purchase on your thighs, spreading you open for him. He placed a couple of gentle nips along the inside of your thigh, before softly asking “Is this alright?”

“Yes. Gods, yes.” You excitedly nodded your head, as if you took too long to answer he may change his mind. Although, a quick glance down at Azriel’s face told you that wasn’t the case. He stared up at you like you were his favorite meal. You lifted your hips slightly, urging yourself closer to his mouth.

He huffed a laugh before pinning you back down to the bed. “Try to stay still for me, sweet girl. Want to make you feel good.” And then his tongue was upon you. He licked a strip right up your center, expertly locating the sensitive bundle of nerves and swirling around it.

White hot pleasure shot up your spine, and you cried out. Hands searching for more contact, you reached down and entangled your fingers in his dark locks, Azriel rewarding you with a low growl when you pulled slightly.

His mouth was maddening. It was like he already knew all of your favorite things as he stroked your clit with the warm velvet of his tongue. Every time you managed to crack your eyes open, you found hazel ones staring back at you, full of hunger and reverence. He kept your hips throughly pinned down, leaving you no choice but to take everything he was giving you.

Suddenly, you felt a cool brush against your collar bone and looked down to find several of his shadows curiously exploring you. The inky tendrils wound themselves around your nipples, the ghost of a touch just enough to drive you crazy, just as Azriel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Every thought in your head ceased to exist and your back arched away from the sheets. A wanton scream tore its way up your throat and you fisted Azriel’s hair tightly, which only seemed to spur him on more.

“Fuck Azriel, there- yes!” You babbled as his grip on your hips loosened slightly, allowing you to wind your hips against his mouth. And mother above he was moaning into your pussy and… oh gods.

You raised your head and watched him unabashedly rut into the mattress, just as needy as you were.

And that was nearly your breaking point. Seeing this beautiful male, wings spread behind him, letting you fuck yourself on his face, shadows twining around your body. You were not like to forget this as long as you lived.

Right as you teetered on the edge of oblivion, you pulled him off of you quickly. “Azriel… need you. Want to cum on your cock. Please.”

“As you wish.” Azriel rose slowly, chin glistening with your slick, and placed his aching cock where his face had just been.

He leaned down and studied your pretty face intently, sliding one scarred hand to your jaw. He then pressed his lips against yours, the kiss searing his very soul.

This was the first time his lips had ever touched yours, other than that one drunken night when you all had played spin the bottle. Although that kiss had kept him up for many nights, it was nothing like this.

“Can you taste yourself? Can you taste how sweet you are? Could spend an eternity with my face between those beautiful legs…” Az mumbled against you.

“Y-yes. I want you to show me more of what you can do with that mouth another time.” You grinned up at him.

Another time. His heart leapt at that. Azriel had not allowed himself to think past this moment, for fear that this could be the first and only time he experienced you this way. Yes, he could show you everything he knew and more.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he lined himself up with your entrance, and pressed his forehead against yours. He ever so slightly began to push in. You were soaking wet, but you were also extremely tight and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

The stretch burned, but not in a way that was painful, just uncomfortable. Holy gods he was huge. You felt his shadows run up and down your arms in a soothing caress, Azriel’s hand at your waist mimicking their motions.

Once his hips were flush with yours, you both sat utterly still, chests heaving against each other. Azriel fought back the urge to thrust as he allowed your body to adjust to his size. “Are you alright, Princess?” He cooed, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Yes… Azzie. Please.” You began to squirm underneath him, unable to patiently wait any longer.

“I know, sweet girl. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He brushed a loose strand of hair back that had fallen into your face.

“I appreciate your concern Azriel, but I will die if you don’t move. I need you to move.” You pleaded, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

Without another moment of hesitation, Azriel slowly drew out of you before pressing back in to the hilt. He had never, never, felt anything as good as this before. He knew that with just the first fucking stroke, he was losing himself to you

“Fucking hells (Y/N). You’re so godsdamned tight… feel so good on my cock sweet girl.”

You cried out at both the sensation and his words, any feelings of discomfort giving way to burning hot pleasure as Azriel fucked you slow and deep. The normally stoic and reserved Shadowsinger was passionate, shocking you with how intently and thoroughly he was loving you.

Azriel angled his hips, rutting in to you at a slightly faster pace now. He buried his face deep into your neck, panting and moaning like he was young male all over again. He was trying his best to fuck you the way you deserved, but it was already so difficult to not unravel completely.

“Azriel…” you moaned his name like it was a prayer, “gods you’re so big… stretching me out just right. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” You pulled his face to yours for another searing kiss, carding your fingers through his soft hair.

Azriel was genuinely surprised that you had thought about this with him, and the confession only turned him on more. He sped up his pace more, pulling back slightly to watch you.

And you stared back at him. You took in the massive wings looming behind Azriel, noticing how they twitched every so often, like they were restless. You remembered one drunken night that Azriel had admitted to you that the rumors about Illyrian wings were in fact true, but that he very rarely felt comfortable enough to allow his lovers to actually touch them.

You wanted so badly to run your fingers down the beautiful membrane. Not only to see his reaction for yourself, but also because you wanted to feel special to him.

Maybe that was foolish, and maybe this whole situation was no more than a manifestation of your shared physical attraction and nothing more. But you could not stop yourself from wanting. “Az… may I touch your wings?” You asked nervously, afraid to ruin the moment.

Azriel drove home a particularly deep stroke, causing you to cry out and tremble around him. His hand came up to guide your eyes to his, and his stare was molten. “I’ve already told you baby, touch me however you like.”

Your heart squeezed at the fact that he felt safe enough with you to allow you to touch him in a way he rarely let others.

You nodded, taking in his words through the haze of pleasure. You reached out slowly, fingertips just inches from his wings. “H-how?” Your hand remained hovering in the air, unsure.

He huffed a laugh that turned into a groan as his hips met yours. “However feels natural to you. There’s no wrong way, just be gentle.” He extended a wing, offering you better access.

You searched his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitancy. Finding none, you simply nodded and ever so lightly grazed your finger tips across the ridge of his wing.

Azriel’s entire body went taught as a bowstring before he shook, the most delectable whimper working its way out of him. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs and began to draw quick, tight circles against it.

You were certain the entirety of Velaris could hear your sounds of pleasure now. You placed another exploratory stroke on a different part of his wing, and continued when you saw the way Azriel’s eyes screwed shut and his brow furrowed.

“If you keep doing that you are going to make me-“ Azriel was interrupted when the soft pads of your fingers rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot.

His hips faltered, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he went careening over the edge and into the abyss of ecstasy, crying out your name and hips snapping against yours.

At the feel of his fingers against your clit, his shadows caressing your body, and his warm seed pumping deep inside you, you came completely undone on his cock. Consumed by burning pleasure, all thoughts eddied out of your brain except for Azriel.

For several moments the two of you remained there, chests heaving against each other, both attempting to unscramble your minds. Azriel eventually pulled out rather reluctantly. “Sit tight.” He murmured against your heated skin, before disappearing from sight.

Minutes later, Azriel reappeared with a wet rag in one hand and a glass of ice water in the other. He set the glass on the table before turning back to you, using the rag to clean you up. “Are you alright?” His eyes flickered between your face and his hands.

You nodded, a grin blooming on your face. “I think I’m more than alright Az. Are you alright?” You parroted his question back to him.

“Yeah. Yes. I am… maybe a little surprised that we somehow ended up here, but I’m glad that we did.” He offered you a grin to match your own that showed his dimples.

His hand found your back, helping you to sit up, and he situated you against the mountain of pillows on his bed before handing you the glass of water. “Here. Drink.”

You accepted the refreshing drink greedily, drinking about half the glass in just a few gulps. Offering the drink back to Azriel, you cleared your throat. “I myself am surprised as well. This was… not really what I expected of my evening. Or ever honestly.” You gave a small shrug.

Azriel settled in beside you, pulling the fluffy duvet up to cover you both. “(Y/N) I do really need to apologize for what I did-what I’ve been doing…” he studied his lap intently, suddenly finding the bed spread mighty interesting.

“It was wrong. Very wrong. I shouldn’t have entered your room without your permission, let alone rummage through your dresser and…” he trailed off, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck.

“And steal my underwear?” You finished for him, brows raising in amusement.

“Yes. That. It was an extreme invasion of your privacy, and wrong on so many levels. If you never want to speak of this again, or never want to speak to me again… I would understand.” Azriel could not bring himself to look at you, to see what you might be feeling.

You gripped his jaw, guiding his gaze back to you. “Az… I told you already, I’m not angry with you. I felt like I proved that rather thoroughly, but I will say it again. You are my friend Azriel. None of this changes that fact. If you are open to it, I’d actually like to do more of… this.” You motioned between the two of you and gave him a big smile.

“I-I am definitely open to it. I would like that very much. I guess you could say I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while now…” Azriel glanced at you with heated cheeks and a dimple peeking out as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound making Azriel’s heart jump in his chest. “Well I guess I can now admit that the feeling is mutual.” You snuggled down into the pillows further, cherishing the warmth of his body next to yours.

Azriel turned to you, propping his head up on a fist. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I was actually supposed to meet Nesta for dinner.” You glanced to the window in Azriel’s room, noticing that the sun had already slipped below the ridge. “She is probably pissed I stood her up, but there’s no sense in going now… and I’d like to stay with you.”

Azriel grinned at you then. “Well perhaps you would consider sharing a meal with me? We can stay here if you want.”

You agreed eagerly and Azriel offered you one of his large, but incredibly soft shirts to wear even though your room was just down the hall. You cherished the feel of the material against your otherwise naked body, his scent surrounding you, the shirt reaching your knees. It made you feel special.

Azriel had the house whip you up your favorite foods and the two of you stayed in his room for the remainder of the evening, chatting and swapping stories as usual. However things definitely felt…. different between the two of you. But in a good way. In the best way.

You must have dozed off eventually, because you awoke to the early morning sun spilling in through Azriel’s parted curtains. You quickly realized that Azriel himself was curled around you, one arm slung over your waist and your back pressed to his chest.

Feeling you stir, he mumbled a groggy good morning, voice rough with sleep. You would be lying if you said the sound didn’t send heat straight to your core all over again.

You turned in his grip to face him, “good morning…” you brushed a couple of your wild strands of hair back from your face and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry if I have over stayed my welcome. I didn’t intend to fall asleep here last night.” You studied his face for any sign of annoyance.

One side of his lips tipped up in a lazy grin, revealing a dimple. “Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed your company... even if you did snore.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, face growing hot. “I do not snore Azriel! I think I would know if I did.” You protested, brow furrowing.

Azriel’s grin only grew, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And how would you know that?”

“Well I’ve never had any complaints about it before.” You explained, praying to the gods that you actually didn’t snore the very first night you ever spent in Azriel’s bed.

Tracing lazy circles on your side, Azriel’s eyes perused your form. You looked so beautiful wrapped in his huge shirt, blankets pulled up over your hips, hair askew in a thousand different directions.

“Perhaps they were just too polite to mention it?” His gaze flicked back up to yours, unable to hide his full on smile at your flustered responses to his teasing.

“You could have done me the same courtesy, asshole.” You shoved his bare chest playfully causing a laugh to spill from Azriel’s lips. Despite what happened yesterday, things felt… comfortable.

You reluctantly untangled yourself from his arms, sitting up to stretch. “I better go inform Nesta that I’m still alive. She’s probably assuming someone kidnapped me last night.”

“I pity the person who would try to kidnap you.” Azriel placed an arm behind his head, watching you shuffle out of the bed, secretly wishing you would stay longer.

You snorted. “True. I also better find a peace offering to give her as well, as an apology for flaking on our dinner date.” You turned to Azriel then, drinking in the sight of him sprawled on his back, blankets pooling around his waist, tattoos swirling down his bare chest and arms. Gods, he was delectable and you wanted to jump his bones all over again.

Azriel was staring at you as well, admiring the length of your bare legs and how his shirt hung down to almost your knees. A surge of male satisfaction flowed through him at the sight. “I think that’s a good idea. I apologize for ruining your plans.” Azriel wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

You gave him another big smile, something you found happening very frequently when he was around. “You can ruin my plans anytime you’d like Shadowsinger.” You began gathering your belongings, preparing to make the trek down the hall to your own quarters. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Azriel nodded. “Anytime you’d like.” He parroted your earlier words back to you.

You bid Azriel goodbye and began making your way out the door, your pile of clothes filing your arms, when you heard Az call out your name.

Turning back towards him, you found him holding up your lacy black panties from yesterday, a smirk plastered on his face. “I think you’re forgetting these.”

You gave a one shouldered shrug, one corner of your lips curling to match Azriel’s. “You can just hang on to those for me.” Watching his eyes widen, you closed the door behind you, smiling all the way down the hall to your own room, and already counting down the seconds until you could see the Shadowsinger again.

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EEEEK i had SO much fun writing this!! feel free to let me know what you liked, i always appreciate feedback 🫶🏼.

[ennabear]

loser! sev getting all whiny and pathetic when she eats you out, rutting her hips against the mattress, cumming in her pants, accidentally overstimulating you like crazy because she's just loves it so much.

accidentally overstimulating HERSELF from eating you out?????? GODDDDDDD

HEHEHEH i said i was gonna respond to these as small little thoughts but i wanna write a real blurb about this because. wow. so true and real it brought tears to my eyes. THANK U FOR THISSSS i wish i could keep it in my asks forever hehehe… 18+

your wife has had one of the worst weeks of her life. the undercity has just completely gone rogue ever since silco has passed, and every effort she’s made to have everyone band together against topside is just worthless. nobody wants to listen to her, too obsessed with their own personal drama to see the bigger picture.

to make matters worse, she’s had to keep jinx under control too. when sevika imagined silco’s death, she didn’t imagine him leaving jinx in the will. and as if the sudden addition of jinx into her life wasn’t enough to stir the pot, jinx has found her own stray now too.

she’s exhausted. sick of sleepless nights spent erasing and rewriting silco’s mistakes, the bitter frost lingering in the streets leaving everyone in a tense and irritable mood. of fucking course she’s the one who has to deal with it, nobody else wants to take a stand or set things straight.

seeing her this way breaks your heart. she barely comes home anymore, usually to be found slumped over silco’s desk with a half empty bottle of whiskey at her side. her arm thrown across the table, an empty promise of getting it fixed and reattached hanging over her head. what she really needs is a new arm, but she refuses to take smeech up on his offer.

god damn it, your wife is so fucking stubborn. it turns you on immensely. because she’s loyal. she’s offered a brand new arm with all of the bells and whistles she could ever ask for, as long as she turns in jinx. easiest job ever, and she’s never liked the blue haired kid anyways. yet, she stands her ground. instead she’s been taking insults like “a bird without wings is just a funny lookin’ rat.” and trying to navigate her life with only one half of herself.

but tonight, she’s gonna make her absence up to you. she wanders home through the dark streets and alleys of zaun, straight to your shared doorstep. one could barely call it a house, as there weren’t really any dwellings that have survived this long in the undercity without being overtaken by moss and vines or crumbled to pieces— but it certainly was a home. especially when she gets to walk in and see you looking cozy and domestic.

you stare up at her when she saunters through the door, a crease between her brows and wet, red eyes painting her face as usual. she sighs, walking over to you and joining you on the couch. in an instant, she’s in your arms again. just the way you like it. without a word, you massage her temples as she nuzzles her face deeper into your hold. your touch is magic, she can feel the month long migraine she’s had suddenly disintegrating.

before she can stop it, before she even realizes what’s happening, hot streams of tears leak out of her eyes and roll down her cheeks. you coo at her and swipe them all away, kissing the top of her head repeatedly as a reminder of your love. yeah, it’s been a day or two since you’ve seen her, and sure, it’s been even longer since you’ve been on a date or had any sort of alone time, but you know that it isn’t personal. she’s trying her best, even if that means stumbling over her words and tripping over her feet.

“bad day, huh?” you ask, another kiss to the top of her head.

“bad week, bad month, bad year…” she responds with a sniffle. “i just wanna be close to you.”

she peeks up at you though her wet eyelashes, some of her black eye makeup smudged around her eyes. you giggle at her, she’s so fucking adorable. and so sweet, so hardworking, so gentle. before you can muster out an ‘i love you’, she bolts forward and catches your lips in a sweet kiss, pinning you to the couch.

“sev, god, you’re so needy.” you pant when she finally releases your lips to catch her breath.

“i’ve missed you, shit. wanna taste you so bad.”

with that, she shoves your pants down, already eagerly sucking bruises into your neck. you groan, you’ve forgotten how good your wife’s touch feels. a big, warm hand wraps around your own, and although they’re rough and cracked, you’ve never felt anything softer. tears threaten to spill out of your own eyes with the amount of love and adrenaline pumping through your veins, but sevika grounds you by shuffling on top of you.

you think she’s about to sit her cunt on top of yours as she strips herself of her pants, but you’re mistaken, and you realize this when she whimpers out a little “hand me that” and nods toward one of the pillows behind you.

confused and turned on as you are, you do as she asks and hand her a throw pillow which instantly gets shoved between her thighs. she wastes no time in diving forward to lick up all of your arousal, her eyes growing starry as a little string of white connects itself from your clit to the tip of her nose. you almost faint. fuck, you’ve missed her face, even more what it can do to you. so you buck your hips up and slowly grind yourself against her face, sevika matching your pace with her own hips.

in an instant, she’s lost in the pleasure— more specifically the taste of you and the slow grind of her cunt against the pillow. moans vibrate through your folds as she buries her face between your spread legs, and you whimper, already embarrassingly close to the finish line.

surprisingly, sevika cums first, the pillow cradling her wet cunt as she humps against it in time with her licks and sucks. that doesn’t stop her, and she doesn’t even stop after you cum and start yanking her head away out of intense pleasure. she can’t stop, though, not now. she’s in too deep. literally. her tongue is buried inside of you and her nose runs over your clit with every thrust, her mind absolutely racing with emotional thoughts and horny feelings.

“sevika, please!” you grunt, her grip on your hips is relentless. “babe, i already came, that’s enough.” but judging by the way she completely ignores you, you wonder if she even heard you at all.

she whines when you tug on her hair or push her shoulders away with the heels of you feet, her face completely melted to your cunt. she never stops fucking her pillow, and now her clit is red and rubbed raw by the cloth. she doesn’t know how many orgasms she’s had, it could range between three and twenty. she lost count when she came for the umpteenth time after you pulled her hair and moaned her name at the same time.

tears spill from her eyes again, but this time they’re happy tears. god, she’s missed you, and she doesn’t ever wanna stop. you take her face in your hands when you notice the sobs and sniffles she’s letting out, along with more whimpers and groans. this time, she relents, slowing her own hips first and then licking up the rest of the cum and spit between your thighs.

“sev, baby, what’s wrong?” you ask, concerned that maybe you hurt her or she hurt herself.

“i just missed you…” she starts. “and i love you so much.” she crawls up your body and lays her head on your stomach while you both catch your breath, the pillow being discarded on the floor. your fingers work wonders on her scalp, and she almost falls asleep after half an hour of matching her breathing to yours.

“don’t fall asleep yet.” you warn, although you’ve been yawning more than she has. “you still need to carry me to bed and tuck me in like a gentleman.”

“you might have to be the gentleman tonight,” she giggles. “i don’t think my legs are sturdy enough to carry us to the bedroom right now.”

[surielstea]

Spelling it Out

Based on a request.

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a bit oblivious to Cassian’s flirtations, so Cassian has to go the extra mile to prove he truly wants her.

Warnings: Cassian probably makes some suggestive jokes somewhere in here, but it’s all fluff! :)

4.6k words.

"I brought coffee," I announce as I step into the studio's warm embrace, the door swinging shut behind me to keep the morning chill at bay. I balance the two cups in one hand, the other cradling the new set of paints Feyre had asked me to pick up this morning.

"Back here!" Feyre's voice carries from the storage room, muffled slightly by the rustling of cardboard.

I follow the sound, stepping into the small back area where she's surrounded by half-unpacked boxes. She exhales in relief as she rushes up to me, taking her coffee with eager hands.

"You're a lifesaver," she groans, lifting the steaming cup to her lips. "Thank you."

I set the paints down, glancing at the boxes. "I thought the shipments were too heavy to unload?"

Feyre hums around her coffee, eyes twinkling. "Oh, I had help—"

Before she can finish, a figure stalks through the doorway, his presence effortlessly filling the space. A box—one that Feyre and I together had struggled to move—rests in his arms like it weighs nothing.

"This should be the last one," the male says, setting it down with casual ease.

His voice is deep, rough-edged in a way that demands attention. I take in the broad cut of his shoulders, the way his wings shift behind him, arching slightly as he straightens. And then I see his face—hazel eyes rich as molten gold, a scar cutting through his dark brow, and a mouth curled into an easy, knowing smile. He's ruggedly handsome, but not in that delicate, ethereal way most High Fae are. No, he's something else entirely—something solid, real.

"Help from Cassian," Feyre finishes, amusement lacing her tone.

The name stiles me immediately, and I was a fool for not immediately putting it together the second I saw him. Cassian. Lord of Bloodshed.

He turns his gaze to me, openly assessing, and I take the opportunity to do the same. There's something about the way he looks at me, like he's mapping every detail—filing it away for later.

"I didn't know we'd have company," I say, forcing my focus back to the present. "I would've brought another coffee."

Cassian huffs a soft laugh. "Oh, no need. I've been up for hours." His voice carries the same warmth as his grin, rough yet inviting. "But that's a kind gesture."

I nod, offering a small smile in return.

"I don't believe you two have officially met," Feyre chimes in, shifting her attention between us. "Cass, this is my very talented friend. She keeps this place running."

"She gives me too much credit," I say, shaking my head.

Cassian, however, tilts his head, his expression unreadable. "I doubt that." The certainty in his tone knocks something loose in my chest.

"This is Cassian," Feyre continues, grinning. "Rhys' brother and the best guy to call for lifting heavy things."

Cassian makes a sound of protest. "Don't forget hilarious, intelligent, devastatingly handsome—I mean, the list goes on."

I huff a quiet laugh as he extends his hand.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Cassian." I smile as I take his hand.

His fingers close around mine, warm and calloused, his grip firm but not overwhelming.

"Likewise, sweetheart." His smirk deepens, and before I can pull away, his thumb brushes ever so slightly over the back of my hand—a touch so fleeting, so deliberate, that I almost convince myself I imagined it. Then he winks, a quick, knowing thing, before finally releasing me.

I swallow, ignoring the odd flutter in my stomach. I've heard the stories from Feyre, how when she originally arrived in the night court she may as well have ended up with Cassian with his relentless flirting. He's joking, I remind myself. That's just how he is.

Cassian dusts his hands off on his leathers before flashing me an easy grin. "You must be the one keeping Feyre sane around here."

I huff a quiet laugh, setting down the paints. "I do my best. But she keeps me busy."

"She does that," he muses, glancing at Feyre. "Though I didn't realize she had such a beautiful assistant."

I blink at him, caught off guard. "Oh—I'm not really her assistant. More like a glorified errand runner."

Feyre scoffs. "That is not true."

Cassian's gaze flicks back to me, assessing. "You're an artist too, then?"

I nod while shucking off my winter coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. "That's the idea."

His grin widens. "Now I'm definitely going to start hanging around more. I could use a few painting tips."

Feyre snorts. "You paint?"

"Not yet," he says, unbothered. "But I'm a fast learner. And I've always appreciated a good work of art."

Something about the way he says it, about the way his hazel eyes flick over me like he's taking his time, makes my stomach flutter.

But before I can respond, he flashes me a smirk, turning back to Feyre. "Anyway, mission accomplished. Boxes are in, and I fully expect my reward."

"Which is?" Feyre asks dryly.

Cassian smirks. "Your eternal gratitude. And maybe a good bottle of whiskey, if Rhys is feeling generous."

Feyre rolls her eyes, but I can't help my smile.

"How about next time we need your help, you'll be the first one we call?" I suggest, noticing Feyre's playful disinterest in rewarding him for being a good friend.

Cassian grins like I've just made his day. "Oh, sweetheart. You can call me anytime."

His voice drops just enough to send an odd warmth curling through my stomach. But before I can overthink it, he turns toward the door.

Cassian turns slightly, glancing at me and Feyre. "I'll be seeing you around, hopefully." He directs at me. "See you for dinner, Feyre."

And just like that, he's gone, leaving only the scent of wind and cracking embers in his wake.

I shake my head, amused, as I turn back to Feyre—only to find her already watching me over the rim of her coffee cup.

"What?"

She only smirks, taking a slow sip. "Nothing."

I frown but brush it off, reaching for the new paints.

Cassian was just being friendly. That's all.

Right?

—

From that moment on, Cassian made every excuse to come to the studio. Half the time, he didn't even bother with a valid reason—just threw out a casual "I was in town" when, in reality, he always was. Velaris wasn't nearly as big as he made it out to be.

The bell above the door rang, and I didn't need to look up to know whose footsteps were approaching behind me.

"Is that supposed to be a bird?" Cassian mused, leaning over my shoulder.

I scoffed, shoving his face away. "It's a dog, and you know it."

He chuckled, easily dodging my half-hearted push and settling right back beside me. "Mmm. If you say so." His wings rustled as he peered at my work again, this time with something softer in his expression. "It's amazing, sweetheart. You're so damn talented."

The sincerity in his voice made my stomach flutter. I tilted my head back to look up at him, caught off guard by the rare note of awe in his tone.

That awe melted into something else—something warm and teasing—as he placed both hands on my shoulders and started kneading gently.

I nearly groaned on the spot. "Gods, you're perfect at that." I exhaled, practically melting under his touch.

Cassian hummed, his thumbs working expertly over the knots in my shoulders.

I sighed blissfully, rolling my shoulders into his hands. "You should've been a healer."

He chuckled, his breath fanning against my ear. "I'd rather just take care of you, sweetheart."

I smiled, tilting my head further into his touch, completely missing the way his fingers stilled for a beat before continuing their slow, deliberate strokes.

"You really are tense," he murmured, pressing into the tight muscles just beneath my neck. "Is this what happens when you spend all day hunched over, painting little dogs that look like birds?"

I smacked his arm lightly. "If you're going to insult my work, at least pretend to be subtle about it."

"Who said anything about insulting?" His thumbs dug in a little deeper, his voice dropping just enough to make my skin heat. "I love watching you work. All focused, biting your lip, completely lost in it."

I wrinkled my nose. "That makes me sound like some kind of absent-minded hermit."

Cassian grinned. "A very cute absent-minded hermit."

I rolled my eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Cassian."

"That's funny because I feel like it's getting me everywhere," he mused, his hands still kneading at my shoulders. "You're practically purring."

"I am not purring," I argued, though I made no move to stop him.

"Cassian, stop distracting my employees!" Feyre's voice rang from the back room, laced with exasperation.

Cassian smirked, straightening up from where he'd been massaging my shoulders. "Employee," he corrected with a lazy grin. "And I'm motivating her."

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth of his hands still lingered on my skin, a phantom pressure I refused to dwell on.

He chuckled, stepping back, stretching in that way that made every muscle in his absurdly broad body flex just enough to be noticed. His wings flared slightly, shifting behind him like an afterthought before he shot me another smirk. "I'll let you get back to it, sweetheart." Then, with a slow tilt of his head—"Unless you'd rather take a break and let me keep working these magic hands?"

My breath caught for half a second before I forced myself to scoff. "No," I said, ignoring the small blush creeping up my neck. "But... could I ask you a favor?"

Cassian perked up instantly, arms folding over his chest. "Anything, gorgeous."

I hesitated, suddenly second-guessing myself, but forged ahead. "I need to paint an anatomical feature I've been studying. I have a few reference images, but..." I swallowed, glancing at his wings. "I was hoping I could use you as a live model?"

His brows lifted, hazel eyes gleaming with intrigue. "My wings?"

I nodded. "Your wings are far more magnificent than the sketches in my book."

The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how they sounded—how appreciative they were—and my face went hot.

Cassian, of course, took full advantage. His wings stretched slightly as if preening under the attention. "You just trying to get me shirtless, sweetheart?"

A very unhelpful image flashed in my head—of him, shirtless, all sculpted muscle and golden skin, wings fanned out behind him in the studio's soft light.

"No!" I blurted, before catching myself. "I mean—it's just for the wings."

Cassian barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Only teasing, sweetheart. I'd love to."

I exhaled in relief. "Good. Are you free tomorrow?"

He tilted his head, grinning. "I'm here whenever you want me."

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flip.

I bit my lower lip slightly, nodding. "Thank you."

"I wouldn't thank me so fast," he mused, gaze flicking to me with unmistakable mischief. "You owe me after this."

I narrowed my eyes. "Owe you what?"

Cassian made a show of looking away, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. "Haven't decided yet," he hummed, lips twitching. "But don't worry, sweetheart. I'll think of something."

I huffed, waving him off. "Go bother someone else, Cassian."

He gave a dramatic bow, smirk firmly in place. "As you wish."

And with that, he sauntered off, wings twitching ever so slightly as he disappeared into the back of the studio—leaving Feyre standing there, watching me, amusement dancing in her eyes.

I turned back to my canvas, heat still prickling my skin.

—

I wasn't nervous.

There was no reason to be nervous.

It was just a painting. Just a model session. Nothing different from the dozens I'd done before.

Except, of course, this time the model was Cassian. And he was currently standing in the doorway of the studio, a lazy, devastatingly handsome grin on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Told you I'd be here whenever you wanted me."

I cleared my throat, turning away quickly to gather my supplies. "Yes, well, I'd rather not have students knocking over easels trying to get a look at you, so we're setting up in the back."

He let out a low chuckle as he followed me. "What, afraid they'll get distracted?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, but I know you will."

"Fair point."

Once we stepped into the back room—where there were no prying eyes or interruptions—I pointed to the stool in the center of the space. "Sit there, facing away from me."

Cassian obeyed, but not before flashing me a smirk. "Getting bossy already?"

I ignored him, busying myself with setting up my canvas. "You can take off your shirt now."

"Damn, sweetheart—at least buy me dinner first."

I froze mid-motion, whipping my head around. "That's not—I didn't—"

Cassian just laughed, reaching over his shoulder to grab the back of his collar. In one smooth motion, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby table.

I regretted looking.

Because Mother above.

Cassian was made of solid muscle—thick, powerful shoulders, his back broad and sculpted as if the Cauldron had taken extra care in crafting every ridge, every dip, every inch of him. His wings, folded neatly against his back, only added to the sheer size of him.

I swallowed hard, thankful beyond belief that he was facing away.

"You good back there?" Cassian teased.

"I'm fine," I said, maybe a little too quickly.

I turned my attention to his wings. The pose needed to be just right—relaxed but natural, something that would emphasize their power without looking stiff or unnatural. I stepped forward, lifting my hands, then hesitated.

"Can I touch?" I asked softly, if there was one thing I learned from studying Illyrian anatomy it's that their wings were sensitive, sacred.

Cassian went still.

For a moment, there was silence. Then—so quiet I almost missed it—his breath hitched.

When he spoke again, his voice was different. Lower. "Yeah, sweetheart. Go ahead.

I exhaled slowly before pressing my fingertips to the strong, leathery membrane of his wing. Warmth radiated from him, the muscle beneath my touch twitching slightly as I carefully adjusted his positioning.

It was... exhilarating, in a way. To be granted access to something so personal.

I stepped back to assess the placement. "Are they too heavy to hold like that?"

Cassian laughed. "That's adorable."

I frowned. "What?"

"Sweetheart, these wings have carried me through battle, through storms, through the Illyrian mountains at full speed. I think I can manage to hold them still for a few hours."

I huffed. "Fine. But will you be able to sit still?"

That earned me another chuckle, this one softer. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

I shook my head and finally picked up my pencil, settling in front of my canvas.

"Alright," I murmured to myself, letting my nerves melt away as I focused on the work ahead. "Let's begin."

The soft scratch of pencil against canvas filled the room, steady, rhythmic—an anchor keeping me grounded as I worked.

I started with the shape of his wings, mapping out their vast expanse, the way they framed his body like an extension of his very presence. The leather stretched taut over powerful muscle, lined with delicate veins and faint, nearly imperceptible scars.

I shouldn't have been staring so intently.

I shouldn't have been so utterly captivated by every detail of him.

And yet, as I let my pencil glide over the page, shaping the curve of his shoulder blades, the slope of his spine, the corded muscles of his back... I couldn't stop.

He's just a model. Just another subject.

Then why did my fingers tremble slightly when I shaded the deep ridges of his scars? Why did my chest tighten at the thought of what he must have endured to earn them?

Cassian shifted slightly, flexing his shoulders, his wings twitching.

I snapped out of my daze, scowling. "Sit still."

He huffed a laugh. "I don't think I've ever sat this still in my entire life."

I hummed in response, refocusing. Carefully, I traced the lines of his back, the contours of muscle that spoke of centuries of battle, of training, of dedication. My gaze flicked up to his wings again, and a quiet sigh escaped me.

"What's that sound for?" he asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

I hesitated, then admitted, "They really are beautiful, you know."

Cassian stilled for a fraction of a second before letting out a soft chuckle. "Careful, sweetheart. Keep saying things like that and I might start thinking you actually like having me here."

I rolled my eyes. "You act like I don't."

Silence.

A pause, just long enough to make my stomach flutter with uncertainty.

Then, "Good. I like being here."

I pressed my lips together, pretending that warmth hadn't bloomed in my chest at his words. Pretending that I wasn't getting lost in the strong, elegant lines of his body.

I dipped my brush into the paint, moving on from the sketch to the first careful strokes of color.

Cassian's voice broke through the quiet. "You know, if you wanted a full anatomy study, you could've just asked."

I blinked, pulling back slightly. "...What?"

He turned his head just enough to smirk at me over his shoulder. "You're painting my back, too, aren't you?"

My cheeks heated. "Well—yes, but—"

"Seems unfair to only get half the view."

I huffed. "I don't need the full view, Cassian."

His smirk deepened. "That's a shame. I'd be a very cooperative model."

I nearly choked on air. "Just—shut up and sit still."

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, settling in my bones.

I shouldn't have been enjoying this so much.

I shouldn't have been admiring the golden-brown glow of his skin, the way the light cast soft shadows over the planes of his back. I shouldn't have let my eyes linger on the scars that marred him���proof of all he had endured, of everything he had survived.

And I certainly shouldn't have wished that all his teasing, all his flirtation, was anything more than just casual banter.

Cassian was like this with everyone.

Wasn't he?

I was not going to let Cassian distract me.

Even if he was currently sprawled in front of me, shirtless, his wings stretched just so, his body the most stunning thing I'd ever painted.

Even if his words curled around me like smoke, warm and teasing, making my thoughts race in ways they shouldn't.

I swallowed hard and turned my attention back to the canvas, forcing myself to focus.

I just had to finish the painting.

And ignore the way my heart had begun to beat just a little too fast.

The rhythmic strokes of my brush filled the quiet space, punctuated only by the occasional scrape of bristles against canvas and the steady sound of Cassian's breathing.

Nearly an hour has passed, and to his credit, he'd been holding still remarkably well. Mostly.

"You're awfully quiet back there, sweetheart," Cassian mused, his voice carrying just the hint of a smirk. "Not getting bored, are you?"

I huffed, dipping my brush into a deeper shade of pigment. "I'm working, Cassian."

"I am your work right now."

I rolled my eyes. "And you're a very high-maintenance subject."

Cassian chuckled. "I prefer engaging. You should be thanking me, really. Keeps things from getting dull."

I let out a soft laugh despite myself. "You're half-naked in front of me, Cassian. Things aren't exactly dull."

Silence.

A beat too long.

I froze as I realized what I'd just said.

Cassian's wings twitched. Then, "Well, well."

I groaned. "Forget I said that."

"Oh, absolutely not." He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the smug curve of his lips. "You just admitted to being entertained by me. I'm savoring this moment."

"I said forget it."

"Nope. It's mine now."

I sighed, glaring at the canvas like it had personally wronged me.

Cassian chuckled again but thankfully let it drop, settling back into his position.

A few minutes passed in something almost resembling peace. I worked on layering in the first washes of color, the warm tones of his skin against the deeper hues of his wings.

Then—"So, do I get a say in how I'm portrayed?"

I lifted a brow. "Are you worried about artistic liberties?"

"A little."

I fought back a smile. "I could make you look very dramatic, if that's what you're asking. Add some storm clouds in the background. Maybe a tragic tear rolling down your face."

Cassian snorted. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather not be mistaken for some brooding, tortured soul."

I hummed. "That is Azriel's aesthetic."

"Exactly. We can't both have it."

"I don't know," I mused. "I think it could work. Maybe a single candle for dramatic lighting—"

"Absolutely not."

I grinned, but before I could make another remark, Cassian stretched, his wings flexing slightly before tucking back into place. The movement was so fluid, so casual—so utterly him.

I quickly went in with another light sketch, wanting to capture the way his muscles moved, the effortless strength in his frame.

"You still with me back there?" he teased, amusement lacing his voice.

"Yes, Cassian. Some of us are capable of focusing."

"Some of us just don't need to focus that hard to admire what's in front of us."

I frowned slightly, not quite catching his meaning. "What?"

He chuckled. "Nothing, sweetheart."

I shook my head, deciding not to press it.

"Alright," I finally said, leaning back to study my work. "I have the basics down. You can put your shirt back on now."

Cassian made a low, exaggerated noise of disappointment. "Damn. And here I was hoping you'd need me to pose for a few more hours."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't sound too heartbroken. I will be making you sit for another session later."

His grin was wicked. "You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"Shut up and put your shirt on, Cassian."

He laughed, grabbing his discarded shirt—but the knowing look in his eyes told me that he'd be holding onto this moment for a long time.

And for some reason, I didn't mind one bit.

—

Cassian came in for many sessions after that.

I probably could've finished the painting on my own after the first few sittings, but he insisted I get all the colors right, all the details perfect. And, well... I wasn't exactly going to complain about having him shirtless in front of me for hours on end.

So, day after day, he showed up, sauntering into the studio with that insufferable smirk, stretching his wings like he owned the place. And I let him, indulged him—indulged myself—until the painting was finally finished, until there was no reason for him to sit for me anymore.

The thought left a strange hollowness in my chest, but I ignored it, focusing instead on adding the final highlights to his wings.

Cassian shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders.

I glanced up. "Getting restless?"

He grinned. "You gonna keep me trapped here all day, sweetheart?"

I smirked. "You're free to go anytime." I glanced at the painting. "But you'd be leaving unfinished art behind, and that would just be tragic."

Even though all I had left to add was a small, near-invisible highlight, I liked the idea of keeping him there just a little longer.

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. I'll sit still for you a little longer."

Something in the way he said it—for you—sent a ripple of warmth through me, but I shoved it aside. I exhaled, finally setting my brush down.

"Alright," I said, stretching my arms. "You're officially free."

Cassian groaned dramatically, standing and rolling his neck. "Finally." He grabbed his shirt, but instead of putting it on, he slung it over his shoulder, turning toward me with that insufferable smirk. "Is it done?"

I turned the easel slightly toward him.

It was hard to admire my own work. After staring at it for so long in every unfinished form, I wasn't sure if I loved it or if I just loved the image I had painted. But I could say I was proud of it. That was enough.

Cassian stepped closer, blinking at the still-wet canvas. His brows lifted, his mouth parted slightly. He didn't speak, didn't crack a joke, didn't smirk like he usually did.

I shifted under his gaze. "Well?"

He inhaled, slow. "Sweetheart..." He sounded almost reverent. "It's... it's beautiful."

A laugh bubbled from my lips. "You're only saying that because it's you I painted."

"No—I mean, I am beautiful, but this is... magnificent." His voice was softer than usual, quieter.

Something flickered in his eyes as he turned toward me, something warm and fond. It was enough to make my stomach flip.

I swallowed. "Thanks, Cass."

His grin returned. "Proud of yourself?"

I nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah. I am."

His wings twitched. "Good. You should be."

A comfortable silence settled between us for a moment, the weight of his words pressing into me in a way I wasn't sure how to handle.

Then Cassian cleared his throat, stretching his arms over his head. "Now that it's finished..."

Something about the way he said it sent a prickle of anticipation down my spine.

He grinned. "...About my favor?"

I groaned. "You actually kept track of that?"

Cassian scoffed. "Sweetheart, I'd never forget a promise like that." He crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyeing me like he was scheming. "And I know exactly what I want."

A slow, lazy smirk curled his lips.

And for some reason, my stomach flipped all over again.

I raised a brow, waiting.

Cassian took a step forward. Then another.

My stomach flipped. "Okay?"

"I want you to go out with me."

I blinked. "What?"

His smirk deepened. "That's my favor. You and me. A date."

I stared at him, sure I'd misheard. "You're joking."

"Nope."

My heart did something strange, something uneven, and I let out a short, breathy laugh. "Cassian, you flirt with everyone."

"Not like this." His voice was quieter now. Steady.

I swallowed. "But—you're just messing with me. You've been messing with me this whole time."

Cassian sighed, running a hand down his face. "Gods, you're impossible." Before I could react, he stepped closer, hands coming up to cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks.

My breath hitched.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, tilting my chin up slightly. "Listen to me. I have not spent weeks finding every excuse under the sun to come here, sitting shirtless for hours just so you'd look at me, calling in a whole-ass favor just to take you out—just to mess with you."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Cassian's thumbs brushed against my skin again, his hazel eyes locked on mine. "I like you. I want you. And I swear to the Gods, if I have to spell it out anymore, I'm going to start carving it into the damn walls."

I let out a breathless laugh, my face burning. "You're serious."

His lips curled. "Took you long enough."

I exhaled, shaking my head slightly. "I—"

"Just say yes, sweetheart," he murmured, voice teasing, but there was something else in his gaze—something warm, something steady. Something real.

I swallowed hard. Yes."

Cassian grinned. "Good choice."

His hands lingered on my face for just a second longer before he pulled back, grabbing his shirt off his shoulder and throwing it on. He shot me one last smirk as he backed toward the door.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow after your class."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing there—heart racing, mind spinning, trying to process the fact that Cassian had actually just asked me out.

That all this time, he hadn't been messing with me at all.

Feyre was going to laugh at me for not catching on sooner when I tell her.

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[humanjarvis]

bloodlust

synopsis: you’ve never known real power. sylus lets you taste it.

tags: nsfw & dark (mdni), sylus gravely injures people who upset you, you like it and fuck him in front of their writhing bodies, he then wipes them from existence with his evol, love confessions, avoidant reader is back, reader thinks they're weak, reader exalts sylus, reader needs therapy, size difference, fingering, vaginal sex, kinda? implied to be their first time but u can decide for urself bc what a first time this would be, blood, violence (obviously), sylus is still nice but definitely leaning into the legendary criminal persona, he’s also obsessed with you, i think that’s it?? pairing: sylus x reader word count: 2.7k

a/n: try psychoanalyzing THIS

You’d always known you were a vengeful person. 

From the day you’d started hating your babysitter for insulting your favorite toy, to the time you’d tried to explode your leech of a landlord with your mind every month, you’d been well aware: you did not take kindly to being wronged. 

You had no true power of your own, no—timid and unimposing, you’d been forced to restrict your retaliation to the hypothetical, the mental. Death wishes, prayers for misfortune, and fantasies of karma were your safe haven—the space in your mind where no one could reach you with insult or ridicule, where the judgment of others was your sole prerogative. 

For years, you’d lived this way, worked this way. Discredited and discarded, excluded and exploited, you’d sought comfort in your capacity to think, to imagine. To imagine retribution for those who would never be dealt it—at least, not from your inconsequential hand. 

But this time, your mere imagination would not be enough.

For the last month, a clique of obnoxious coworkers had been harassing you nonstop, stewing in jealousy after your recent promotion. Day after day, they’d tried to break your spirit, and day after day, they inched closer to success. The thinly veiled barbs, harsh criticisms, and shameless attempts to steal your work were eating away at you, no matter how vividly you imagined retaliating in the safety of your mind, dissolving each perpetrator to dust for their needless hostility. 

The dam broke the day they’d found your weak spot, launching a full-on attack on you. Not your skill, not your work, but the unchangeable traits that already kept you awake at night, wishing you could be something greater. Your shyness, your weakness, your simple approach to the world—everything that made you who you were, they’d picked apart.

You don’t recall how you’d gotten home that day—only the wings of a crow fluttering above you as you floated down the familiar streets on autopilot. You’d stepped through the door withdrawn nearly into catatonia, recoiling from sounds and flinching from touches. 

Sylus hadn’t liked that. 

After years of lonely independence—not what you’d chosen but all you could handle—you’re still adjusting to relying on someone else to preserve your honor. Especially when that person has everything you lack: an imposing form, an authoritative voice, effortless assurance, and unrivaled strength. 

Sylus can make your hypotheticals—your unfulfilling, pathetic hypotheticals—into reality. Without lifting a finger, without breaking a sweat. 

So when you return to his home in a shell of dejection, drained of the life you’d graciously breathed into his, that’s precisely what he plans to do.

Someone had upset you—terribly so. The moment he’d claimed you, held your trembling, uncertain form in his, he’d set a very high price for that.

In the back room of Onychinus’s main warehouse, your body tremors in anticipation. Tonight, your defenses are more than psychological. Tonight, for the first time, you’ll know the intoxicating security of capability. 

As you wait for Sylus’s cue, your mind wanders to the aftermath of that day. Once you’d come back to him, looked into his eyes with something more than blankness, he’d approached you. Gathering you into his arms, he’d asked what’d happened—who’d happened—pressing sweet kisses to your temple and lips whenever your voice would break. 

He’d holed up in his office after he’d seen you to bed, compiling all the information he could find—a lot, with his resources—on the three men who’d tormented you. Their names, addresses, roles in the company, aspirations—anything that’d be useful in luring them to his turf. 

And now, he’s asked you to stay out of sight and wait for his signal as he lulls his suspects with the false promise of a good deal. 

Just as you feel the familiar impulse to flee threaten your resolve, a too-realistic caw and the steady flaps of metal wings snap you out of your thoughts. As the omnipresent crow lands on your shoulder, nuzzling your cheek in programmed affection, you walk slowly to the heavy door, steeling yourself before sliding it open. 

In the dim light of the square room, you feel his presence before you see him, his cool authority drawing you to him like a magnet. You come to a soft stop behind his chair, draping one arm over his shoulders, the other on his chest, as he introduces you as his partner. And with a tense, shuddering breath, you tighten your grip on him as you raise your eyes to meet the men who’d nearly broken you. 

Apparently, though, your true reunion has been put on hold, as their careless eyes are busy ogling your body in proprietary glee. 

When Sylus clears his throat, they seem to remember where they are and who they’re with, and three pairs of eyes finally deign to meet yours. Almost immediately, those eyes flicker in recognition, the faces of their owners blanching with nerves.  

And that reaction is the smoking gun—the only evidence Sylus needs to enact their damnation. 

In an instant, crimson ropes with black undertones snake around the men’s immobilized bodies, suspending them in midair before inching up to muffle the groans that catch in their rigid throats. 

Rising from his seat, Sylus bends to kiss your forehead before blocking your view with his back. “Don’t peek, sweetie,” he hums as he extends one large hand, dancing his index finger in a line of X’s. As he moves, hundreds of tiny, twisting cuts appear around each man’s neck, their countless wounds dripping with thin streams of blood. 

Completing his design, he clenches his fist, and the ropes tighten to drain their prey at a much greater volume. 

A few seconds later and he drops his hand, the men’s half-emptied, half-alive bodies hitting the floor in one simultaneous thud. 

From behind the broad panes of Sylus’s back, you're not supposed to see his carnage, the way his victims can’t even beg him for mercy with the blood clogging their windpipes. 

But with your hands on his narrow waist, supporting you as you peek around him in disobedience, the image of what he’s done for you and its surprisingly comfortable weight settle on your now relaxed shoulders. 

It’s not the mess on the floor, but the principle of his actions—the urgency with which he moved to avenge his own.

You want to thank him. You want to worship him. 

Oblivious to the desire thrumming in your heart, Sylus finally turns around, ready to usher you out of the room. When he reaches for you, though, you intercept his arm, panting softly up at him with wide eyes.

Mistaking your expression as terror, he moves to step back, but you shake your head vehemently and tug him toward you, your feet firmly rooted in place on the tiled black floor. 

Wordlessly, you paw frantically at his shirt and belt—anything that can come off—with your usually nimble fingers trembling and clumsy from the rush of energy in your veins. 

As you manage to undo the first button of his shirt, realization dawns on his face, lightening his stormy garnet eyes in a mix of shock and relief. 

“You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” he breathes, his large hand covering yours on his buttons and freezing your advances momentarily. 

With an impatient huff, you look up at him and open your mouth in protest, but he speaks before you can. 

“For a moment, I thought I'd made you fear me again,” he admits with a shaky chuckle. “Evidently I was wrong, and although I'm glad to know that…are you sure you want to do this here, sweetie?” he checks, peering down at you with a searching gaze. 

Finding your voice, you use his loosened shirt to pull him down to your height, caressing his chiseled jaw in your hand. “I want you to take me. Here, in front of all of them. I want them to watch the man who’ll take their lives take my heart in his hands. Will you do that for me?”

He’ll do anything for you. 

And so, softly maneuvering your body, Sylus repositions you to stand in front of him and angles your gaze to the reflective steel ceiling, not allowing the filth on the floor to enter your line of sight. He supposes they can look at you—it won’t matter for much longer, anyway—but he refuses to let you look at them any longer, to let your intimacy be tainted by the memories of what they’d done. 

Slowly, he trails his unoccupied hand down to grope your full breasts, humming in approval when he feels your pebbling nipples. Pinching your right peak softly, he murmurs into your left ear, surrounding you on all sides. “You like what I’ve done, I presume? Are you pleased with me?” 

Moaning softly, you arch back into him, pushing your chest further into his welcoming hand. Tilting your head back as far as his iron grip allows, you turn your face to brush his cheek as his fingers continue working your aching nipple. “It’s not what you’ve done to them,” you breathe against him, “it’s what you’ve done for me.” 

With another moan, you rock your hips back between his legs, feeling the sizable bulge that grows harder with each reaction you give him. 

With the strength in his one free hand, the other still aiming your gaze toward the ceiling, he tears the front of your flimsy dress open, your breasts spilling out in smooth bounces. 

Sylus groans deeply at the visual, his palm coming up to grope and knead your tender flesh between his calloused fingers. 

“Tell me,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the pulse in your neck. “How should I take you, hmm? Hard and fast, so they know I pace you, or slow and deep, so my love is clear?”

Leaving your breast with a last tug at your nipple, he lowers his hand to dip his fingers under the hem of your exposed panties, gliding between your glistening folds. Extending two long digits, he slips them into your fluttering entrance, sliding in and out with ease from the intensity of your arousal. 

As he pumps his fingers inside you, your walls clenching around him in search of something larger, you’re barely able to formulate a response. Luckily, your answer is simple.

“Everything,” you moan to him. “Everything you can give me—I want it all.” 

With a rumbling groan, Sylus gives you a final deep thrust with his fingers, dragging them inside your walls to collect all of your essence. Pulling them out of you with a wet pop, he swiftly sticks them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits as he savors your taste. Standing up on your toes, you push your mouth to his, slipping your tongue past his lips to steal what’s left of your flavor. A string of saliva connects you as you part, only snapping when Sylus shifts to free the heavy bulge from his straining slacks. 

Mewling, you try to push your hips back, desperately searching for whatever friction you can find. But with a light tap to your hip, he holds you in place, thwarting your attempt to bring him closer. “Be patient for me, won’t you?” he asks. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long—surely you’ll let me lead?”

And although you’ve vowed against letting anyone lead you, letting anyone take charge of you lest you get burned, you remember the power he’d gifted you only an hour ago, the writhing bodies still littering the floor behind you. His grand display of care, devotion, and understanding. Without a second thought, you find yourself nodding frantically in his embrace, his hand on your jaw briefly loosening with the force. 

With a soft, unnecessary apology, you still, allowing yourself to fall pliant in his hands. Against your ear, you feel his lips curl into a smile.

“Eyes up,” he whispers as he sinks into you.

The intrusion is slow, and thanks to the wetness leaking out of you, you suction in his oversized length with only a slight discomfort. With a gentle push, he fully seats himself inside you, and you both release a breathy moan—yours at the wholeness, his at the tightness.

After one sublime moment, your bodies almost merged with your closeness, he pulls out slowly, leaving just the head of his shaft inside you before surging forward in an all-encompassing thrust. Mouth falling open, you unconsciously tilt your hips back to meet him, and he growls his approval. 

“I’ll give you everything,” he rumbles with another deep thrust. “Everything you want, everyone you want it done to—that’s my promise to you,” he vows, biting your ear. “Not a single being will harm you without paying the price—the price they pay as they look up at us with their last glances, wishing with all they have left to be in my place instead.” 

As he speaks, he quickens his measured strokes into powerful snaps of his hips—pacing you, just as he’d said. His promise and his movements are all too much, and you feel a sweet ache start to spread within your lower belly. 

Trying and failing to match his bruising thrusts, you babble out your admiration, the words that have circled your brain since he’d first told you his plans. 

“Thank you,” you pant, drawing in shuddering breaths. “I-I know I shut down on you sometimes, but I’m not used to having someone to care for me—having someone who can. I’ve only ever protected myself, a-and only ever in my head. I’m not strong enough, or assertive enough, to do anything you do for me and I love you so much for it—love you so much that I’m jealous of you, and it only makes me love you more,” you finish with a whimper. 

At your confession, Sylus grips your hip in his hand and fucks into you with renewed fervor, jostling every part of your body but your head, still securely angled toward the sky. The pounding starts a quake in your legs, and you slump into his strong chest, entrusting yourself to him as he pushes you both over the edge. With a few more sharp thrusts and a stinging bite on your neck, he spills into you in thick, hot spurts, and the sensation has you gushing around him. With an unrestrained cry, you dig your nails into his arm, and he presses impossibly closer to you.

“However much you think you love me, know that it hardly compares to the obsession I feel towards you.” 

As you’re lost in the pleasure of your joint release, murky red and black wisps coil around the figures twitching on the floor, enshrouding them in an eerie haze. With near inaudible crackles, they erode the forgotten flesh of their targets, twisting and curling, bending and snapping, until the floor is cleared of sin. 

Sylus, who’d captured your attention with a devoted kiss in the comedown of your orgasm, slowly releases you once his work is done. Breathless, you hover near his mouth, eager to ask for more, when you notice his firm grip has left your jaw—you’re free to look as you please. 

With his length still inside you, pulsing softly and coated with your combined essence, you twist in his arms, expecting the lifeless shapes on the floor to sully the peace of the moment, to resurface the desolation in you that'd led to their demise. 

But as you peer down at the shiny black tiles, you see nothing but yourselves—a smaller figure entwined in the consuming embrace of a much larger one.

“How do you feel?” a deep voice purrs into your ear. Craning your neck to look at its pleased owner, you sensually press yourself back, burying his already hardening length deeper into its nest. With a soft smile, you claim his lips in an unhurried kiss, tender and reverent and lewd.

When you pull away, he splays a possessive hand over your abdomen. He rests his chin atop your head as he resumes his pumps in and out of you, gradually quickening his controlled movements. 

Fluttering your eyes closed, you breathe in with contentment. The air around you has grown a little lighter with the deletion of those who’d dared to waste it.

[unintentionalseductress]

Let Me Take Care Of It

Warnings: MDNI, pseudocest, inexperienced adult reader, mild corruption kink, reader calls Caleb gege A/n: ok ok...tbh idk how this would even work irl, where reader is a grown woman and doesn't know about her clit or being horny etc...point is IDC, this is like PWMP - p**n with mild plot, but honestly, I just needed a reason to write some filthy pseudocest so here we fucking are. Written with very little thought and not proofread. Part 2 maybe if this does well.

It started out as a strange feeling; blushing whenever Caleb patted your head, or when he held your hand while crossing the street. It hadn't affected you before, but now it was all you could think about.

It was a very odd sensation: flushed face, rapid heartbeat, a soft ache in your nipples, and most curious of all, a persistent throbbing between your legs. It went away with time, but everything seemed to reignite when Caleb was back in proximity to you.

Then he left for college. That was the longest you'd gone without feeling those peculiar tingles and uncomfortable jolts in your stomach. Then he'd visit and it all came crashing down again. It was more manageable after you started living in the dorm. Separated for longer periods meant you could live much more freely, and you prepared yourself for any visits to Grandma's place. You'd successfully avoided Caleb up until now.

So imagine your surprise when you open the front door and are greeted with an enthusiastic, "Hey pipsqueak!"

Your heart skips a beat, then a high-pitched squeal leaves your lips as you're lifted off the ground. Caleb envelops you in a tight hug as he picks you up and spins you around, just like when you were kids. The familiar scent of his skin fills your nostrils, and on cue, that throbbing between your legs starts again.

"Oh, it feels like I haven't seen you in forever!" He carefully sets you down and ruffles your hair, worsening the rising heat in your cheeks. "You've been so busy the last few vacations that I haven't seen you all year pipsqueak!"

Caleb casually slinks his arm around your shoulder, his hand just shy of brushing your breast and you feel your nipple hardening almost painfully against the fabric of your bra, feeling like it might chafe against the undergarment. You clear your throat and nod, hoping none of your symptoms were showing on your face.

"Yeah it's good to see you too..." you try to sound nonchalant as you push Caleb off you, pretending to be playful, and he grins, automatically leaning back against you like a game, annoyingly yet adorably resembling a puppy that wanted pets.

"No hug for me?" His purple eyes were pleading. "No I miss you? You've really become miss independent after leaving for college. Bet you don't want my homemade dumplings or brasied chicken wings anymore either huh?"

You instantly pout, the mention of food temporarily making you forget your embarrassing reaction to his presence. "I never said that! I always want your food!"

Caleb grins. "Oh I see. You only think of me when you're hungry. What a selfish little pipsqueak."

The sight of him smiling was making your stomach tie itself into knots. "I'm gonna put my stuff away. Freshen up." You quickly grab your suitcase.

"Are you ok?" Without warning, Caleb reaches out to cup your cheek between both his hands and your breath catches, the heat welling up inside to a point that you felt like you might burst into flames.

"You're awfully warm and red. You're not sick right?" Caleb's endearing method of checking for a fever, which used to make you feel secure and safe, was now making you squirmy and awkward.

Jerking your face out of his hands, you mutter an "I'm fine," before running as fast as you can to your room. Once inside, you sink down on the bed, trying to calm down, trying to think of anything to stop that uncomfortable little pulse of heat in between your most intimate folds. You let out a growl of frustration, then startle as someone knocks on your door. You scramble into a sitting position.

"Yeah?"

Caleb wanders in, looking concerned, and you feel like a trapped animal, fighting for space.

"I'm sorry, but I don't buy that you're ok." He sits down on the edge of your bed and you look away, blushing furiously.

"You've never avoided me like this our whole lives pipsqueak. Didn't we agree no secrets? That you can always talk to me no matter what?"

His words twist guilt into your being but you can't bring yourself to look at him. An awkward silence fills the room and Caleb scoots closer, and you're sure he's trying to give you a heart attack.

"What is it? Are you on your period?"

You know he means well, but you shrink from him, and your heart clenches as you see the disappointment in his face as you withdraw; you'd never rejected his touch before.

Caleb sighs deeply, then rubs the back of his neck. "Ok. I'm sorry. I'll give you some room."

He gets up to go but you instinctively grab his hand, eyes wide and pleading. "No, don't go." you swallow, trying to form the words.

"I don't want space from you."

"Then why are you being weird?" He allows himself to be pulled back onto the bed and draws you against him, and you feel like all your senses are focusing on reliving one thing and one thing only; the pulsating warmth of your sex.

"I'm not trying to be, but I don't feel good. But I don't think I'm sick." You try to explain as Caleb holds you. "I feel...all hot. And my body keeps getting these tingles, and I feel...like my heart's beating too fast."

"Since when?" Caleb gently pats the back of your head. "You should have told me. I would've taken you to the doctor."

"There's something else. And it's kind of...embarrassing."

"Embarrassing how?"

You swallow, feeling your face burn as you admit your problem. "I feel a weird kind of throbbing sensation."

"Is it painful? Where?"

"It's...down there." You finally admit.

A ringing silence falls around you and for a second you worry you've said too much, before Caleb asks, "Like...down down there? In your...?" he fumbles. "Your pussy?"

You let out a shriek of mortification and push him, hiding your face in your hands. "Don't call it that!"

"That's what it's called!" Caleb says earnestly, trying not to laugh. "And I think I know what's happening." He tugs on your wrist to pull you back to his side.

"You do?" Hopeful you peek at him, feeling shy as his eyes start to darken at the edges.

"I think I do. You're horny." he says it matter-of-factly, and you glance away.

"Horny? That's what this is?"

"Yup. I can check if you want."

Your heart skips a beat. "Check?"

"Yeah. Do you trust me?"

Nodding, you allow him to lay you back on the bed, resisting the urge to snap your legs closed as he settles between them. He carefully hikes up your skirt, trying to ignore the shudder that passes through him as he sees the drenched gusset of your cute little panties.

"Let gege take care of you," he murmurs hotly, and despite yourself, you nod.

"Gege knows what wrong with me?" you ask with wide eyed innocence that makes him want to rip off your clothes and take you then and there. Caleb settles for a nod.

"Yes pipsqueak. I do." He pulls off the soaked panties, dragging them down your legs and bringing them up to his nose to smell, the musky aroma making his cock harden painfully.

You're as red as an apple as you watch. "Gege why...?"

"Scent is an important part of making sure you're horny. Judging by these-" he dangles the drenched undergarment in the air before putting it into his pocket, "I'd say you've been this way for a while."

Your knees tremble but Caleb puts his hands on them, keeping them apart. "Be gege's good girl hmm? Keep your legs wide open for me."

You obey, then let out a tiny gasp as you feel his fingers on your cunt, prising them apart and stroking a calloused fingertip through the moist, swollen membranes. As he brushes closer to the apex, you moan and buck your hips, a sudden feeling of pleasure floating through you at his touch.

"Oh pipsqueak. Your clit is all swollen and pink. Are you a naughty little pipsqueak, getting wet when gege is near?" His question is a husky murmur, asked with a smirk that has you hiding your face in your hands again.

"I don't know." you whimper as the throbbing increases after the temporary respite of him touching it.

"Let gege help you. Just relax." You let out a helpless, breathy noise as he pets that little bud at the tip of your apex again, drawing smooth circles over it, your moans music to his ears. He inserts a finger into your tight virgin hole, hissing as he feels how smoothly it glides in, and when he pulls out, the digit is coated with a slick layer of your arousal.

"My little one...you're so pent up. You haven't touched yourself at all? Not even once?" he smears the fluid onto your clit, lewd squelxhing noises filling the air as he strokes you steadily.

The tenderly movements only aid in your growng arousal, hips automatically rocking in a primal rhythm to his fingers. "No..." you manage to whimper. "I didn't know this was what the problem was."

"Ssh..." Caleb silences you with a kiss on your forehead. "It's ok. Now you know. And gege is here to show you. Don't worry my little doll." Testing your limits, he reinserts his finger, followed by a second one, marveling at the stretch. "How does this feel?"

You nod your head. "It...it feels good gege..." your walls clamp around the invading digits and Caleb curls them up, running them along the upper walls of your channel until he finds a spongy little patch deep within. He strokes it with care as his thumb continues it movements on your clit, and your eyes squeeze closed, pops of color forming behind your closed eyelids.

"That's it...focus on feeling good. Can you do that for me pipsqueak?"

You nod tightly, feeling light, your whole body turning into a melting mess of pleasure as you mewl, your body responding so perfectly to his actions. Caleb can see your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your shirt and he curbs his impulses to rip the shirt off and suckle the little knots of flesh greedily, not when he knew you were so close to having a satisfying orgasm on his fingers.

The tension builds, a slippery coil of want tightening in your belly as your voice keens. You feel pressure building within, like your body was contracting and relaxing at the same time, almost like it was trying to expel something.

"Gege...I feel like...there's pressure..." You struggle to explain.

"That's normal pipsqueak. Focus on that. Trust me."

So you listen to him, tuning into the feeling and then, the world suddenly grows bright. The buidling pressure snaps, releasing an insane synergy of rapid delight, growing in your belly and radiating everywhere. Your clit and pussy flutter in tandem as you ride the wave of ecstasy, breath tearing from your throat as it ripples through you, filling you with gratification.

Caleb's fingers never cease through this event but his touch becomes softer, and once he feels your pussy start to relax, he removes his drenched fingers from your hole, licking them clean, much to your chagrin.

"That was so beautiful pipsqueak. How do you feel?" He gather you close, giving reassuring kisses to your cheeks and forehead.

"I feel...good. Like really good. And the throbbing is gone."

Caleb chuckles. "You'll let me know if it comes back? I'll always help you my little one."

Glowing at the relief, you snuggle into him. "Yes gege."

"That's my girl." He presses a final kiss to your forehead, moving away to give himself some room to gether himself, to take his painfully hard cock away from your pretty, half-naked body."

"Wash up pipsqueak. Dinner will be ready soon."

With one last look at your sated face, Caleb leaves in satisfaction. He can wait. He has all week.

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

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[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[berrryparfait]

cherry blossoms in edo japan ⋆˚✿˖°

➴ continuation: misty sunsets in edo japan

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: samurai! rafayel, caleb, zayne, xavier, sylus x fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: you are the sheltered daughter of a powerful clan leader in edo period japan. beneath the boughs of the cherry blossom trees lurks a mysterious shadow who keeps you safe... 「as long as you remain where i can see you, that is all i care about. ∼ tomoe, kamisama kiss」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: historical japan au, jealous / kinda manipulative caleb, mild(?) enemies-to-lovers xavier

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: love upon wings in your heart – hoyo-mix

✧ a/n: this was inspired by the otome game nightshade (2016), which i really enjoyed. i've always loved the setting of historical japan, so here's an imagining of our LIs as badass, mysterious samurai TT

RAFAYEL, the sneaky and playful samurai... He’s agile and swift as a breeze, always on the lookout for trouble. You spend half the day listening to your father berate him for toppling yet another basket of peaches, but he never stays angry for long. No one could—Rafayel’s tendency for mischief was annoyingly endearing. He was beloved by the whole clan, including you. You tease each other like crazy, which brings you an embarrassing amount of joy. Thanks to him, days spent locked up in the estate are less lonely. However, even good days come to an end. An assassin from an enemy clan escaped the notice of the guards one night, and you were snatched from your home like a bar of gold. Just when you were about to lose all hope of rescue, Rafayel burst through the doors and eliminated the whole squad of assassins, the look on his face one you had never seen before. “Anyone who touches you will have to face my wrath. There is nothing dearer to me in this world.”

CALEB, the protective and dedicated samurai... Being a few years older, he's always been like a big brother to you. He trains with the other young men, always cracking jokes and flashing that bright smile of his. But don't be fooled—this man possesses an unparalleled work ethic and commitment to his path. If anyone was destined to be a samurai, it's Caleb. He simply knows how to enjoy himself when he's off duty. If anyone were to ask him what he thought of you, he'd laugh and say you were like a little sister to him. You know better. Once, he caught you by the lake with one of his friends. He scolded you for being alone with a man who wasn’t him and frightened his friend so badly that he never spoke to you again. Sometimes he takes it too far, you think to yourself. But you don't know what you'd do without him. "You don't understand the dangers you'll be getting into if you leave. Trust me, I know better." When will he stop coddling me? "I can take care of myself." He sighs and pats you on the head. "And cherry blossoms are blue."

ZAYNE, the dutiful and reserved samurai... You see him from time to time, always in some kind of rush. He works for your father and spends most of his time dealing with the clan’s adversaries. He’s good at his job, and you understand that without him, your family would never be truly safe. You’ve tried to speak to him, to ask him what his favorite season is and how long he’s been working for your father, but he’s as serious and detached as a cold winter’s night. He merely stares at you as if deeming you unworthy of his time. This morning, you woke up at the break of dawn to catch the sunrise by the cherry blossom trees. How you long for some company—a friend or two. That’s when you see it in the corner of your eye, there one second and gone the next: the glint of a sword disappearing behind the nearest building. You don’t question who it was. “It was you, wasn’t it? Earlier this morning, by the trees?” He merely glances away, feigning disinterest. A blush creeps onto his face “If you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. Good day, my lady.”

XAVIER, the observant and efficient samurai... You’ve watched him train for years, the soft-spoken and no-nonsense mentor with a reputation for possessing the most impressive combat and stealth skills the clan has ever seen. He's usually sent on missions not to kill, but to spy—making him a silent but deadly threat to enemy clans and your father's most prized subordinate. As for you, you don't think very highly of him. Sure, he's an excellent fighter who also happens to be incredibly handsome and charming and cool, but what else does he have to offer? His answers are clipped, his tone condescending. He sure as hell doesn't care about you. He probably sees you as the troublesome, pampered daughter of his boss; just another disturbance he's forced to take care of. But why is it that you occasionally trade glances with him in crowded rooms, and wonder about how he's doing in the late hours of the night? "Oh. It's you," he remarks, unbothered by your appearance in his doorway. "If you're going to interrupt my sleep, the least you could do is come in."

SYLUS, the dangerous and elusive samurai... You’ve only ever seen him in the dark; an intimidating, ominous presence watching over you in the quiet hours of the night. You want so badly to get to know him, to understand him—you’ve called out for him to tell you his name a million times, but he refuses to share anything personal. You know he’s a menace, slinking in and out of the estate whenever he pleases to conduct his business, and you almost feel bad for the fools who stand in his way. One night, you sneak out into the forest to find him, yearning to escape from your life of boredom and solitude and become a samurai yourself. But first you’ll need to be trained. “Has the princess finally decided to come out of her castle?” You glare at him. “I hate it when you talk down to me like that.” He chuckles, then places a single cherry blossom in your hair. “Meet me here tomorrow night.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[pellucid-constellations]

Flightless Bird

Pairing: Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Azriel was not supposed to be in the mortal lands. Azriel was not supposed to love a mortal. He couldn't find it in him to care.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death, a little bit wistful I suppose

a/n: I am struggling to write!! So I'm sorry if this is all jumbled and weird 😭 Please enjoy me trying to get my act together I love you allll <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Azriel was not where he was supposed to be. He knew that—knew his High Lord would be disappointed at his whereabouts—and he went anyway. 

It was often hard to blend into the mortal lands, but he was not unused to the discomfort that came with slinking around alley corners and plastering his wings to his back. If a human saw him, he would be in greater trouble than a simple tongue-lashing from Rhysand. 

He hadn’t been caught yet. 

“Azriel.” 

Well—he hadn’t been caught by anyone he wouldn't want to be caught by. 

Azriel turned on his heel, his back pressed against the biting cold of the cobblestone alley. You stood before him with a basket on your arm and an accusatory gleam pointed up with your gaze. The collar of your dress was slightly askew and if he looked hard enough, he could see bits of basil on your sleeve hem. 

He fought the smile that edged onto his face, not wanting to mock your exasperation. “Y/n,” he cordially greeted. 

You huffed. “Don’t say that so casually.” 

“Your name?” 

“Your death sentence, more like. You know you shouldn’t be here.” 

Ah, yes—Azriel could not forget that multiple people did not want him meandering about the mortal lands. Rhysand didn’t want him here because of the trouble it could cause. You didn’t want him here because you thought the humans would kill him. A small misconception that he found endearing.

“Why not?” Azriel questioned, tilting his head to the side as you stepped forward. You peered over his shoulder past the mouth of the alley in hurried agitation. 

“How long have you been here?” you asked, brushing off his question. “Has anyone seen you? Here, quickly—most people are at the market event so we can make it to my house.” 

And Azriel had gotten exactly what he wanted the second you wrapped your hand around his forearm. He let you tug him around more corners and watched as you anxiously bit into your lip and fretted for his imagined safety. At one point, he had whisked the herb basket from your arm and held it loosely at his fingertips. You only glanced back at him for a moment, too concerned with shoving him into the too-small front door of your home. 

Azriel set the basket down on the quaint table by the fire and felt his bones settle in the soft glow of your home. While you busied yourself by locking the door and slamming the windows shut, he casually looked around the space and breathed in the spices and rich wood that calmed him. He had difficulty describing this feeling to others, so he coveted it instead. 

The slick of your curtains shutting seemed to end your tirade, and you then turned to him with an exasperated hand on your hip. “I’ve told you to send word if you’re coming. I can ensure you’re not seen, but only if I know you’re here.” 

Azriel was almost positive you didn’t understand he was a spy. He had explained his job to you many times, but you never seemed to take it into account when you were concerned over his stealth in the human lands. 

“I can get around fine. I wanted to find you,” he calmly replied. 

“Why don’t you wait at my house then? Rather than roaming about the streets? You know I’ll end up here eventually.” 

How was Azriel supposed to say that he liked to watch you? That he found joy in seeing you in the woods picking herbs or at the market selling your remedies. No, he figured that would be an odd thing to say to a human, so instead he offered a shrug and you replied with another tortured sigh. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose and murmured his name. 

“I don’t mean to burden you,” Azriel apologized. “I only wanted to see you. It’s been… a while.” 

When you looked back up, all vexation slid from your expression, replaced instead by soft reproach. “Burden me—Azriel, you don’t burden me. I worry for you, but it’s not a burden. Any time you need to use my home for work it’s available to you.”

You never understood. Azriel said he wanted to see you, not use your home. He had offered many of these admittances in the past and you never found their meaning. He had asked Feyre about that in a night of desperation a few months ago. She had sworn not to tell anyone and made Azriel privy to the inferiority humans felt when compared to fae. 

“She probably isn’t even considering that, Az,” Feyre had softly replied, unvoiced confusion twisting her brow. “How did you meet her again?” 

“I don’t need to use your home. Not this time,” Azriel revealed. 

“A short mission then?” 

“I’m not here for a mission.” 

Confusion pinched your expression. “I don’t understand.” 

Azriel took a step forward, shadows splaying out under his boot. The wood creaked. “I told you—I wanted to see you.” 

You uncrossed your arms, allowing Azriel to see your chest rise and fall unsteadily. You looked down to his feet, tracking the small movements he was making towards you, and then caught his eye once more. 

“Is this about Harrison? He hasn’t bothered me since.” 

Azriel’s eyes slipped closed for a moment. Harrison. The good-for-nothing human man who wouldn’t leave you alone for months. Azriel had made up multiple stories for being in the mortal lands around that time—to both you and Rhys. In the end, Harrison moved on and you hadn’t had an explanation for it. 

Azriel had a very clear explanation. 

“It’s not about that, though I am glad he’s leaving you alone.” 

You hummed, the sound perfectly matching your reproachful nod. “Right. So I’m safe. And you don’t have a mission. Why would you need to see me?” 

Feyre had clearly been right; you hadn’t even considered the possibility that Azriel was taken by you. And that made sense. Azriel couldn’t really understand it himself. You were a human—destined for a short life and vulnerable to so many things. 

Azriel would live twenty lifetimes and you would only live one. 

But he couldn’t get you out of his head. 

From that first day he saw you in these dreary lands he had been dreaming of you, unable to have a thought without connecting it back to the softness of your hair or the way your skin seemed to glow under the sun. He had approached you a couple of days after that first look. It hadn’t gone well, obviously, and Azriel had to admit that being punched by a human hurt more than he expected. 

You were nothing if not logical, however, and after getting a few unreciprocated punches in, you stopped and listened to him. He had truly needed help at that time, unrest with a few rogue members of Hewn City sending him your way, and in the best interest of your village, you gave him a place to hide. 

It had been awkward—for him. 

You had been comfortable with him from the start and he was the one shifting in his seat each time you passed. He hadn’t been around many humans, and although the Archeron sisters had given him some experience, they were nothing like you. You yanked him around alleyways and shoved herbs in his mouth that wouldn’t actually heal him. You were stubborn and didn’t take no for an answer and you went headfirst into everything. Azriel could remember a time a couple of months after meeting you that he was sure his heart stopped, your foot slipping on a ladder as you helped him search for human information. 

He was constantly reminded how fragile you were. The bruise he spotted on your wrist now was practically mocking him. 

He knew how fragile you were, and he still came back. He couldn’t help it. 

“Can I not just wish to see you?” Azriel asked, his words now reaching your skin with his proximity. 

Your lashes fluttered. You let out a small breath. “Fancy court life get boring? Needed a reminder of the desolation of the human lands?” 

Azriel had been foolish to think your bite would disappear with a short bout of flustering. “I don’t think they’re desolate. Not with you here.” 

“What are you doing?” you whispered. Azriel watched you fiddle with your sleeve, the darkened skin of your bruise stealing his breath once more. 

His eyes tracked back up to your face. “Do you really not know?” 

The space between you was sparse; any other human would be cowering in fear. 

“Azriel—” 

“Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll leave if you wish for me to.” 

“I don’t want that.” 

“Then tell me what you want.” 

You dropped your hands to your sides, a war waging in your eyes. Azriel was having a difficult time parsing out the opposing sides—if you were scared of him or if you thought about him as much as he did you.

“I’m human. I’m nothing.” 

Azriel abandoned his wonder, reaching his hand up to cup your face. He hesitated, allowing you time to move away from his touch. You didn’t. He took the liberty of holding you between both of his hands rather than one. 

“I’ve never thought that. Don’t say that,” he pressed. 

You looked pained, vulnerability seeping into your usually strong expression. You always had to be strong here. “It’s true. You don’t think I’ve—Azriel, I’ve… felt things for you that I shouldn’t. Wanted things I shouldn’t. But I’m mortal. I’m just a human. And you could have so much more than—” 

Azriel was already shaking his head. He didn’t understand any of this. You were right—in a way. This wasn’t natural. 

Azriel still spoke as if it were. “I don’t care about any of that. I don’t want anything else. The year I’ve known you I have thought of little else.”

“But that’s just it, Azriel,” you began, an incredulous laugh punctuating your words. “A year. A year that I have aged and been changed. A year that feels long and hard for a human and it was nothing but a drop in the bucket for you. You will have centuries of them. You won’t die from sickness or injury or famine. You—we couldn't… I am human.” 

“And I don’t care,” Azriel repeated. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he readjusted his grip on you. “I don’t understand why, but I don’t, y/n. I know this isn’t sensible and I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s short. I love you.” 

Your eyes widened, words caught in your throat. And Azriel didn’t care if you said it back. He didn’t care if he had made a fool of himself. For the first time in centuries, he loved and he did it without secrecy and fear. 

Maybe it was the brevity of it all. Maybe it was because you belonged to only him, his family unaware of your existence. Azriel didn’t care about the origin. He only cared about you. 

“This can’t work,” you whispered. Logical. Always so logical. 

“It doesn’t have to work. It just has to be.” 

You gripped his wrists, desperation in your eyes. “What does that even mean?” 

Azriel hesitated, and then he kissed you. He pressed his lips to yours and he felt the way your heart beat in the pulsing heat of your skin. You were warm—always warm—and your body moved without the fluidity of fae and Azriel wanted nothing more. He removed one of his hands from your face only to wrap it around your back, pressing you closer, listening to the racing pattern of your heart. 

He kissed you harder and you kissed him back. 

Nothing else mattered—not the logic or the timelines or the aging. 

Azriel’s shadows always tamed themselves around you, seeming to fear any hesitance you may hold, but right now they were rampant in your home, sliding up the windows and humming low songs in his ears. 

And in the depths of Azriel’s chest, hidden so deep he thought it his own beating heart, something tugged.

[deepspacenova]

Covetous

She stepped out into the moonlight, allowing the glow to illuminate her silhouette. His massive form shifted, but he didn’t move to hide. No, he continued to lay upon his perch insolently, as if daring her to try something. A few moments of silent stalemate, then, a long-suffering sigh. “Again, little one?”

read on ao3

➻➻ ABOUT | 4500 words. sylus x fem!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | dragon!sylus. banter. sexual tension. porn with some plot. shameless smut. explicit.

NOTE: Basically written based on headcanons and vibes (before Beyond Cloudfall was released, so no spoilers). Because no, I am not okay about this myth card. Let’s all be not okay together xx

The icy air prickled on her skin as she scrambled her way through the rocky terrain that led down to the cavern system. 

She couldn’t help but feel a thrum of adrenaline-infused excitement as she crept into the darkness, the fissures in the rock overhead illuminating the tunnel with speckled moonlight as she slipped through the silent shadows. 

She paused for a moment, her breath curling into silver mist in front of her. The stars were high, and the cave ahead was quiet and blissfully unaware of her presence; she had time for a moment of indulgence. She took a deep breath, the intense chill of the night air revitalizing her. 

She had certainly seen worse.

Once upon a time she’d loathed heights, but she’d experienced far worse things over the years than being a few extra metres from the ground. After the war she’d thought it would be easy to fall back into her life, thought it would feel like being back on solid ground, but she’d been wrong, so caught up in changing the world that she didn’t even realise that she had changed too. Now…

Now she had to get back to work.

She hugged the jagged rock walls, her boots crunching softly against the gritty floor of the cave as she crept deeper into the shadows. Overhead, the roof of the cavern became higher and darker, glittering with faint streaks of quartz that caught the dim light filtering through unseen cracks above. 

What would her younger self think of this? Sneaking into a monster’s lair to pilfer his treasure? She imagined that naive girl, horrified beyond belief, clinging to ideals about honor and fairness. But those ideals didn’t pay for food, for shelter. The truth was simple: wealth changed the world. And if she had to steal it from the claws of a monster, then so be it. 

The path curved sharply, and just ahead, the faintest glint of gold sparkled in the dim light. Her heart skipped, her pulse quickening. 

Something was wrong. 

The chamber’s massive iron door, usually sealed tight, was cracked open, its hinges groaning faintly as a draft stirred the cavern air.

Damn it. She’d been so close. So close she could taste it. But now—

The faintest sound reached her ears—a low scrape, like claws dragging across stone. It was so subtle she almost missed it over the hammering of her heart as she gripped the dagger at her side.

Carefully, she tilted her head to peek around the corner.

The chamber opened into a vast expanse of shimmering treasure. Gold coins, goblets, gems, and gilded weapons spilled across the cavern floor in glittering piles. But her attention wasn’t on the wealth — it was on the hulking figure sprawled atop the stone mound.

The dragon. 

His massive form was sprawled on the pedestal, onyx scales glinting in the faint light like shards of obsidian. Smoke curled lazily around him as he rested its head on a palm, like a domesticated creature in repose.

Her stomach twisted. She’d expected him to be there, of course, but seeing him in the flesh was another thing entirely. The beast was impossibly large, his spiked wings resting behind him like folds of a midnight curtain. His tail swished idly, the tip flicking lazily as it held his prize, her prize. The Thread of Celestia, the sparkling necklace she’d set out to retrieve.

The very sight of him irked her. The sheer arrogance of him. No disguise, no armor, no clothing, he wasn’t even sticking to the shadows, the cocky, brutish– 

“Your stealth skills could use some work.” He called, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the quiet night like a blade through silk.

She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck and gripped her dagger. 

She stepped out into the moonlight, allowing the glow to illuminate her silhouette. His massive form shifted, but he didn’t move to hide. No, he continued to lay upon his perch insolently, as if daring her to try something. His gaze narrowed as he took in her figure fully. 

A few moments of silent stalemate, then, a long-suffering sigh.

“Again, little one?”

“Apparently.”

“How have we ended up here again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who sent you this time? I doubt we move in the same circles,” he said with a pretentious little sniff.

“No one hired me, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he inquired, eyes glittering like rubies. “Just for the fun of it then?”

“This isn’t for fun.” She lied. It wasn’t just for fun anyway… “Just because you don’t care about anything but yourself–”

“You know that’s not true,” he said, sitting up. The Thread of Celestia disappeared somewhere on his person with a smoothness that made her wonder just how many secrets his body held. 

Sylus continued, “I don’t believe for a second that you don’t have a little giggle to yourself thinking of the look on your master’s face when he realises his favorite… toy is being played with.” His gaze sluiced like warm water over her body and she knew he didn’t mean the necklace. She took another step toward him, palm tensing around the dagger behind her back. “And before you start waxing poetic about causes, I’ll remind you that last time we were in this position, you told me that cretins like him get what they deserve.”

“They do,” she said lightly, taking a few more steps forward.

“If you’re waiting for me to fall prey to the dagger behind your back, little one, you’re going to be disappointed.”

She shrugged, using the action to subtly shift her stance.

“I’m always disappointed in you.”

“Careful, sweetie, you’ll make me cry,” he drawled, his lip curling. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

She stopped less than a foot away from him. “I think we should.”

“Then, we don’t have all night.”

“No we don’t.”

There was a moment of perfect stillness, perfect silence. Then the tension snapped.

She sprung forward like an arrow from a bow, lunging towards him through the thin gap between them, and at the very same instant he leapt off the ledge, conjuring a cloud of thick smoke that swamped her vision. She expelled it with a slash of her arm and as the fog cleared she tried to glimpse him to no avail. He’d disappeared.

She may well have changed a great deal over the years, but she still hated losing.

She prowled around the cavern, her lungs burning as she fought to catch her breath each time she felt a claw poke her back, a tail stagger her step, or his melodic chuckle reverberate through her chest. She was fast but so was he, and in terms of size, strength, and supernatural ability he had her beat tenfold. 

He was almost close enough to grab now, but still an elusive flash of body parts her blasted human eyes could barely make out. It was now or never, though. With a grimace and a grunt of exertion, whipped around, hands outstretched–

And caught nothing but air.

She heard the soft thump of his tail behind the gold pile next to her and, not one to be easily deterred, she followed. 

This wasn’t over until she said it was over.

But she felt his heartbeat too late, alarmingly close, and she didn’t even have time to turn around before the tip of his claw was denting into the delicate flesh at the side of her neck.

“Found me,” he whispered into her ear as his arm came around her. He chuckled under his breath as she shuddered involuntarily against his front. “I forgot we’d added ear-whispering to the list of dirty tricks. I know how much it… affects you.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, cursing her treacherous body.

“Really? Here?” he said, and she could practically hear the arrogance in his grin.

Well. One dirty trick begets another.

Angling her hips just so, she pushed her arse backward until she heard the sharp intake of breath she knew so well. Then she snapped her head back, and heard a satisfying grunt as it connected with his face.

She spun around as his tail replaced his arm when the tip of his middle finger brush a small drop of blood from the corner of his lip — ideally, she’d have aimed for his nose, but he was at least a head taller than her so she’d take what she could reach — and drew her fist back.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sylus growled, grabbing her fist in his hand and twisting her arm toward the small of her back. “Don’t you dare give me another black eye, little one.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered, drawing her dagger with her unrestrained hand and aiming it at his face.

Sylus released her fist from his grip, then used her moment of unbalance to tighten his tail around the back of her knees, but she was still fast and trained. She dropped her entire weight onto his tail and tackled him to the ground while he was still regaining his balance.

“If you don’t want a black eye, then you should be faster,” she panted, wriggling on top of him as she attempted to pin his arms to his sides with her knees. “Now where is it?”

“You don’t already know?” he asked silkily, with an utterly shameless grin and a roll of his hips. And yes, of course she could feel the effect the friction was having on him, of course, she knew she was squeezing him with her thighs so it was hardly an unexpected outcome, of course, his ridiculous leather ensemble really did leave very little to the imagination, but–

“I’m not interested in that,” she said coolly. “Where’s the necklace? And don’t you dare tell me to search for it.”

“Why should I tell you anything, sweetie? I’m rather enjoying myself if I’m honest.” She felt his erection twitch beneath her as if it was agreeing with him.

“So help me, Sylus, I will search for it, and depending on which crevice you’ve stashed it in, that could be quite uncomfortable for you.”

“Why are you so damn insistent anyway?” he asked blandly. “This thing is a novelty at best.”

“An expensive novelty,”

“Well obviously, but surely a rock that supposedly prevents hangovers is beneath your exalted notice?”

“It just means I’m selling something harmless,” she said with a shrug, “Now where-”

A loud crack of thunder above them split the quiet of the night, startling her.

Sylus immediately bucked his hips up, destabilizing her just enough that he could pull his hands up from where she’d been pinning them. He grabbed the back of her thighs and flipped them over, managing to catch one hand but she was too quick for him to catch the one that mattered, and then they were still again.

Her dagger under his chin, his claw digging into the space above her heart, tail pinning her in place, their chests heaving.

“Now why do we always have to solve our problems with violence, little one?” he purred, his voice barely more than a wisp of air. “Can’t we act civilized for once?”

“Maybe.”

“Fancy moving your little blade then?” he murmured, leaning forward a touch so she could feel the soft vibration of his voice humming through the length of her weapon into her hand.

“No,” she said stubbornly, “Why don’t you move your- your talon?”

“Because if I move mine you’ll cut my cheek, take the jewelry, and leave me,” he bit out, scowling, “Like last time.”

“Last time was different.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, you know,” he whispered, moving a fraction closer. She kept her blade against his throat, and he pressed his a little harder into her ribs. “I would have let you take that amethyst too, but waking empty handed and alone? That did sting a bit, sweetie.”

“So sorry,” she muttered sarcastically.

“No you’re not,” Sylus growled.

“No,” she said, almost breathless now, “I’m not.”

He let out a huff of exasperation, and they surged together. The kiss was hot and hard and vicious, and it stole the air from her lungs. She could taste the blood on his lips, and resisted the urge to bite it harder, oddly proud she was the one who’d put the mark there, who made the great beast bleed in the first place. He had no such qualms, and he nipped sharply at her lower lip, grunting in satisfaction when he felt her shudder beneath him.

“We can’t,” she gasped as he turned his attention to her neck. 

“If you want to leave then move your damn knife out of my face,” he rumbled into her jaw, and she realised that she had instinctually kept her weapon stuck firmly under his chin. His claws had moved to wrap around her throat. 

“Fine.” The sound of metal hitting metal echoed around them as the blade landed into a small pile of gold. 

They lay there, their faces a hair’s breadth apart for several seconds before she yanked the silvery-white hair at his nape and kissed him as if she wasn’t expected to be back in the city soon. 

Sylus didn’t complain. On the contrary, he growled into her mouth and his tail constricted harder around her hips, keeping her flush against him. Gods, she really did wish he wasn’t quite so attractive. She could feel every muscle through her clothes, smell the comforting scent of smoke on his warm breath, see every piece of white and black that covered this man who lived in the grey. 

“Every time,” she murmured as he kissed and nipped his way down her chest. “Every time I say it's the last time.”

“You did last time.” He hummed. 

She flicked her tongue against the pulse point she’d wanted to press her dagger into a few moments ago, “That’s why I left.”

He roughly shoved his thigh between hers and smirking at the way she gasped and tightened her grip on his shoulders, she could feel every wrinkle of fabric brush against her sensitive skin. “I’m sure that’s why,” he whispered in her ear sardonically.

“Dirty tricks,” she managed to pant out.

“Have I missed something, little one?” Sylus asked, pushing his thigh harder into her so she was practically rocking on his leg, “I thought we were well into the list? My lip’s still healing by the way.” 

“I need to get out of here, you beast,” she said, uncomfortably aware of how thin and unconvincing her voice sounded. “You can have all the dirty tricks you want once I–”

“That a promise?” he asked with a wolfish grin. 

She couldn’t help but smile back, even as she felt her cheeks heat. “Just a few hundred metres to the exit of the cave”

“Hm, winner keeps the necklace?”

“Wait, that’s not–”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth, then pulled away with an unbearably arrogant smirk, getting up and vanishing from her sight.

“Sylus!” She shouted in frustration before sprinting after him.

That confusing, adrenaline-fueled joy was back as they chased each other around the cave. 

She had no clue if she was really gaining on him, or if he was letting her for the fun of it, but in that moment she didn’t care a bit. When she spotted his tail from the corner of her eye she leapt forward and this time she caught more than air. She barreled into his chest like a warrior. Her light build was mitigated by the sheer momentum and together they tumbled onto the stone-cold floor.

They tussled clumsily for a few moments, rolling over and over without either one getting the upper hand. 

She saw a tantalising glint in her peripheral vision.

He was dangling the Thread of Celestia over her head from his tail — she didn’t even want to know which unholy nook or cranny he’d produced it from — and even in a gilded room it glittered, almost as if it was producing its own light. 

Then she realised that while she had been staring at the jewel, Sylus was staring at her, eyelids lowered, gaze soft. He cocked his head, questioning, and she couldn’t help but smile.

She reached out and gently closed her hand over the necklace, removed it from his tail, and flung it away from them.

“The usual rules?” Sylus murmured.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t wake me last time.”

“Last time we’d already agreed on the course of action.”

“You mean you’d agreed on the course of action,”

“Don’t pout, dragon. It’s not my fault all your attention had rushed south.”

“You were half-naked, sweetie.”

“So were you. That’s how I know where all your attention was.”

“Just… promise you won’t do it again,” he said, more serious than she’d heard him tonight.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I promise.”

“I’ll make you pay if you break this one,” Sylus rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he surged forwards with a low moan, their lips met, and her brain went blank for several wonderful seconds.

They were panting when they broke apart, but there was only a split second of stillness before they were back at each other, fingers and claws tearing at their garments between kisses. Eventually the clothing battle was won, and Sylus pressed his naked torso to hers as he brushed her hair over her shoulder with one sharp finger.

She ran her hands indulgently down the length of his back and he shuddered under her fingertips, sinking his teeth into the soft skin between her shoulder and neck.

She gasped and he chuckled. “Tit for tat,” he murmured into the crook of her neck, running his hands down the outside of her arms all the way down to her hips, where he hooked his thumbs inside her underwear. 

She tore them down her legs, the tease of real touch not nearly enough.

“So impatient,” he tutted, his lips brushing her jaw with every syllable.

In answer she slid her hand back up to palm him and grinning smugly to herself when she felt him shudder.

“You are always so-” he pulled one bra-strap down off her shoulder, “-demanding-” he slipped the other strap down, dragging his tongue over her collarbone, “-and greedy.”

“Tease,” she managed, trying and failing to disguise the growing desperation in her voice.

He pulled back and smiled slowly, the dusting of pink on his cheekbones and the soft grinding into her palm the only signs he might be as overwrought as she was. 

He dragged a fingertip across her lips, just barely grazing her tongue for the smallest second, and then it was too late to stop herself. She sucked it into her mouth, and for that moment every shred of composure vanished from his expression.

Apparently all his patience vanished too, because he let out a hoarse groan and grabbed her, flipping her around so her front was pressed against the gold-splattered floor. She longed to feel his heated skin against hers, so when he flicked open her bra she scrambled to shrug it off, gasping when her nipples brushed the cold metal of his treasures.

“You know how I know you like me here?” he growled into her ear, running his sharp finger down her spine. 

“How?” she panted, and he laughed quietly, a soft vibration against her neck.

“Because, little one,” he purred, “You’ve already headbutted me once this evening. I don’t believe for a second you wouldn’t do it again if you wanted to,” he nuzzled the nape of her neck, an oddly tender action given the way he was gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, “So logically I have to conclude that you’re letting me do this… but why is that, sweetie?”

He trailed off and his tail lowered around her thighs, leaving her exposed but still constrained. He swept his hand down her arse and the inside of her thigh, and then back up again to dip one finger into her. She tried to arch into his touch, but he’d already pulled away, and she huffed in frustration.

“Tell me why you’re letting me do this,” he commanded softly.

She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. How was he so good at this?

The first time it happened it had been a fight from start to finish, brutal and frantic and without the smallest trace of softness, and she’d screamed so loud they’d had very nearly brought the cave down. The second time was more of a negotiation. He’d trapped her here for a few days, and after the first time had been so successful, it seemed like there were certainly worse ways to pass the time.

Every time they both agreed it was the last. Sometimes she told him to shut up, wrestled him to the floor, and made him shut up. Sometimes it was the other way around. But every time it became just a little harder to convince herself that this time really was the last.

“Tell me, little one,” he breathed, grinding each ridge of his cock slowly against her backside.

And every time, they would get to this point, the point where her resistance would evaporate, she’d say fuck it.

“Because I love it,” she gasped.

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward again to reach between her legs, cupping her but not pushing inside. She groaned and arched into him again, and the arrogant bastard laughed. The worst thing was that his brazenness only riled her even more. “Now, are you going to be good for me, sweetie?”

“Don’t push it,” she snapped, and he laughed again.

“As you wish,” he said smoothly, and as much as she was enjoying this, his hand between her legs and his warm weight pressing her bare front against the floor, it didn’t do to let his ego run amok.

She moved to turn around, and surprisingly he didn’t try to stop her, just pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. For once there was no fight for dominance, no semblance of a struggle, just a frenzy of movement as they both scrambled to devour each other.

She traced his scales with her tongue. He stamped hot, open mouthed kisses on the bruises that were beginning to bloom from their escapades. Skin to skin, it was like a moment out of time, a bubble where nothing outside this underground cavern existed.

A sigh of satisfaction vibrated from his chest, when he slid a finger inside her and choked on a gasp of pleasure. His tongue swirled around her nipple and his thumb found her clitoris, and suddenly what she’d thought would be a marathon became a sprint.

“Sylus, I- I’m-”

He withdrew his hand and she groaned in disappointment, but her thighs were already cradling him and his cock was already teasing at her entrance. She ground down, desperate for friction, but he tightened his tail around her and before she could even blink he had flipped her over again. She had wanted to watch him unravel above her but now he was pushing her knees apart, and pushing further and further into her and- well, actually, this was fine too.

The moment the tip of his cock bottomed out she arched up into him as if she’d been electrocuted. Even so, it wasn’t enough. She squirmed for more.

“So demanding,” he purred, his hot breath torturous against the curve of her cheek.

“Stop stopping!” she growled, grabbing his hair to push his face into her neck and pushing back into him.

He chuckled against her and flexed his hips once, just once, and she was so close she felt like a live wire, her skin buzzing with the anticipation of it. Without warning he punched her clit and she screamed into the top of her own hand.

Sylus caught her wrist and pinned it to the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted, pushing in further, “I want- fuck- I want to hear every single sound.”

She moaned loudly. Much as she hated to admit it, she really did love his voice like this.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she clenched around him involuntarily as he began to move. “Oh fuck- I fucking love-”

“Gods, I’m going to-”

“Yes, come on my cock,” he snarled, thrusting harder and tightening his grip on her wrist.

Her other hand fisted around his nape, her whole body clenched, and her awareness narrowed past this room, even past him, and all she could do was hold on for dear life as her orgasm claimed her.

In the fuzzy edges of her perception she heard her name, his voice low and rough, almost reverential, and finally he came with a wordless moan, his body shuddering against her. As the waves of pleasure began to recede, she thought distantly how strange it was that this was so good. It didn’t make any sense at all. They didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t ever work.

But there was something profoundly, sinfully delightful about taking something you were never meant to have. And in that moment, she thought she understood this dragon more than she ever had.

There weren’t any more words. This part was always oddly quiet for how much they both loved to talk. They just silently curled their exhausted bodies around each other. There wasn’t anything left to say, they both knew that, all too quickly, dawn would arrive, and reality would catch up with them once again.

As the tendrils of sleep coiled around her mind, the last thought in her head was that maybe she would quite like to do this one day without any of the usual shit. Maybe they could fall asleep together and wake up together. Maybe they would… maybe……

When she awoke, she felt unusually comfortable. She hummed in contentment and stretched, and let out a little sigh of disappointment when she realised that she was alone. Then the context caught up with her, and all the sleepy indulgence evaporated.

She bolted upright, ignoring the twinges of protest from her limbs and the rush of lightheadedness at getting up so quickly. She’d half expected him to be lounging there next to her, waiting for her with the necklace dangling from his tail like an insolent bastard, but no. The cave was as empty as the silks she’d been lain on, and her heart sank.

She should have known this would happen, especially since she’d done it to him last time. She shook her head in exasperation at herself. This couldn’t keep happening, it was-

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small package on the bedside table, a leather pouch with a folded note propped up in front. She reached for the pouch, undoing the drawstring and peering inside.

And there it was. The necklace. The very thing that had brought her to him in the first place.

She pulled the drawstring tight, as if looking at it too long might make it disappear, and reached blindly for the note. It was just a few scrawled words.

Just this once, sweetie. I have a monstrous reputation to maintain. -S

[kupidachillea]

Olympians x You (hcs or imagines)

Author note: Geez, it’s been awhile. Sorry, I’ve been in bit of a funk, got both writers block and art block but I just want to drop this. I still have a few things in my drafts, but for now I’ll feed you guys this.

TW (trigger warning):This may have a few Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: readers either 17-18+ (to read this I mean), light mentions of nudity, molesting and sexual harassment, toxic behaviour. General (hinted) Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

🏺- You weren’t sure how you got here but somehow you ended up on mount Olympus of all places.

🪡- Your brain was fuzzy and you hadn’t yet registered the 12 + looming faces above you. When you did notice, they were bickering in a language you didn’t understand (or at the very least, understood a little). It was jarring and you were still trying to get your bearings.

-🏺 You noticed one of them, a woman, dressed in garments fit for royalty (in ancient times at least) and had somewhat of a peacock aesthetic to it, yelling and pointing accusingly at a man, presumably her husband. She didn’t seem happy. Hera. Queen of the Olympians..that means the other must’ve been Zeus..oh boy

🪡- Zeus looked as if he was trying to quell his wife’s anger before things got more out of hand. There were a few others in the back that looked bored of the situation- as if a similar thing has happened before, while others looked mildly amused.

🏺- Despite all that- the argument seemed to have turned completely to you. Hera turning her rage towards you. “You! Where did you come from, how did you arrive here!?” She’d ask in anger, it was evident she had very little patience if any at all, thankfully though she was now speaking a language you could understand. You scrambled to answer her, your body trembling slightly at how her voice shook the marble floor you were sat on.

🪡- You tried to explain to her that you didn’t know how you got here. Your brain still fuzzy with images that didn’t clear up or make sense. This obviously didn’t help the Queen’s anger and you could see her patience slipping. She would scoff and turn back towards the other gods, them discussing what they should do with you.

🏺 - Some suggestions were thrown around, some you weren’t so fond of. Multiple times did they suggest either killing you or throwing you off the mountain (which would kill you anyway). However those ideas were shut down immediately by more ‘kindhearted’ gods. This hasn’t happened in centuries- a human spawning on top of their mountain out of the blue..they aren’t really prepared for this.

🪡- They were almost all out of ideas, until one golden haired music deity bent down to your height and took a closer look at you. His eyes shining as he took in your appearance before a smile started to work its way on his lips. “How about we keep them..?” He suddenly asked, his gaze still set on the little (little to them anyway) human in front of him.

🏺- This made everyone pause and even you were shocked by the suggestion. You found it ridiculous and you argued that despite how flattering it was- you didn’t want to stay with them and you wanted to be returned back to your home. The gods only seemed to ignore you, as if you were a child having an unreasonable temper tantrum. They were all considering keeping you here!

🪡- “Well…” Hermes started. You could tell since he was a bit shorter than the others and he had his signature winged sandals. “It has been quite awhile since the gods have had a plaything..” he would mutter reluctantly. He wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, despite how his father and brothers (most anyway) were grinning like idiots. You, obviously , did not appreciate being referred to as a plaything.

🏺- “Then it is settled..this little one shall be our new plaything!” Zeus grinned, a little too happy for both yours and Hera’s taste. You were about to give them a piece of your mind but was swiftly silenced by a threatening gaze from Hera..to your surprise. And thus began your horrible life with the Olympians..

….

🪡- You were stripped of your modern clothing and given a chiton to wear instead. “It’s too modern for our liking..” Aphrodite would say as she felt up your body in ways that made you shiver in discomfort. “We’re use to our people…how should I say this? Showing a little more skin…” the goddess of love would chuckle sweetly, while you would stare at her in embarrassment and maybe even a hint of disgust. While you could understand where she was coming from- it still didn’t stop you personally from being uncomfortable with they way she was touching you.

🏺-You’d also be dressed up in fine jewellery, much to your surprise..anklets of gold, bangles made of bronze, necklaces etc. sweet smelling oil perfumes covering your body- anything to make seem more ‘appealing’ to the gods and goddess. You were their plaything after all, so it made sense for them to dress you how they liked..no matter how much you disliked it.

🪡- They’d occasionally have you pour them wine at banquets or sit on their laps to just sit there and look pretty. The main gods that did this were of course Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, definitely Dionysus and at some point Hermes. You didn’t really appreciate this, but rejecting their request would result in a ‘punishment’ for you.

🏺- To your surprise..Ares rarely touched you without your permission, but he was a little mean here and there. He along with Athena and Demeter weren’t as…’touchy’ as the others. And Artemis …you appreciated that..though just because they didn’t touch you in inappropriate ways doesn’t mean they weren’t as ‘crazy’ as the rest.

🪡- For example, while Artemis wasn’t big on being a pest in terms of touching you, she did take you out on hunts..which..wasn’t so bad in your opinion. It was much better than being up on the mountain most days..she thought a little more rationally- but of course- her twin, Apollo, would see you hanging out with his sister and get a little possessive about it. Which you didn’t understand- you weren’t any of their lovers (even if they thought so), but even so..most hunting trips were cut short because of him.

🏺- When you finally got moments to breathe away from the gods..you’d spend it out in the garden..hidden away from everyone and thing..it was your quiet time up until one of the gods summoned you. You found out that you weren’t the first human to be in this position (and probably not the last)..according to one of the lesser known gods (maybe Hebe) you were told that centuries before, a young lad was taken into the heavens to serve Zeus but had been placed into the stars as the constellation known as Aquarius.

🪡- You shivered at the thought..you didn’t want that to happen to you. To be placed in the stars? Doomed to forever look down on earth and watch your family and friends grow? It may have been an honour back then but to you it was almost like a death sentence.

🏺- Either way, life with the Olympians got harder to cope with. Your privacy was always compromised and you were forced to many things you didn’t like. Sometimes the gods would be as bold to sneak up on you while you were bathing and either join you in the pool or touching up your nude body.

🪡-Often giving excuses for why they would do so, or simply ignoring your protest. It wasn’t hard to manhandle you after all..they were gods, and you were a puny human. Why should they care about your thoughts and feelings. It progressively got worse with them kissing your neck or cheek without your permission too- Apollo was the main culprit of that..

🏺- Sometimes you found yourself crying in a corner by yourself at the situation you were in. The only person willing to comfort you being Hestia. She obviously didn’t approve of this but she couldn’t do much besides being a safe space for you to turn to, which you appreciated.

🪡- But no matter how you protest, run, hide, or try to defy them; you are still theirs. That how they see it anyway, and they won’t change their mind..

[ofstarsandvibranium]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: Joaquin got you a little present for when he's away on missions for a longer time.

A/N: This is based off a tiktok I saw about a husband bothering his wife with the Ebo Bot while he's deployed

"...Joaquin, what is this exactly?" you look at the device inside the box.

Your boyfriend looks at you excitedly, "It's a little robot that I can use to communicate with you while I'm away on missions."

You pull it out along with instructions, "Honey, this is sweet and all, but our phones work just fine."

"But our phones don't roll around looking all cute like!" You watch as he downloads the required app and sets up the bot. Soon enough, the round, white and black bot is rolling around your living room floor. Joaquin controls it from his phone.

"See!" He then taps his phone again, "And I can talk to you through it like this!"

Honestly, you still didn't see the purpose of the bot, but it made Joaquin happy and it provides another form of communication with him while he's away.

"It does look pretty cute," you say, giving him a soft smile, which makes his own smile grow wider.

__________________

You're in the kitchen cooking dinner for yourself when you hear the rolling of wheels, "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

You chuckle and look down at your feet. The ebo bot is angled up at you as your boyfriend speaks through it, "Making soup?" Joaquin asks as he notes the pot in front of you.

"Close. I'm cooking stew."

"All of that for you?"

You roll your eyes, "No. I'll eat what I can and then I'll freeze the rest to eat for another time. Or if you want to eat it when you come back, all you have to do is heat it back up."

"Oooohh smart."

"Everything going okay?" you ask as you go back to cooking.

"Yup. Probably will be back in a day or two....can you pick me up and put me on the counter?"

You snort, "Really? Why?"

"So I can get a better look at your beautiful face, obviously." You hear the grin in his voice.

You roll your eyes again but you oblige. For the past few missions, Joaquin has used the ebo bot to talk to you, mess around, and be a little nuisance. You could tell he was enjoying it way too much.

"I hope Sam never gives you your own Red Wing. I can't imagine the nonsense you'd pull with something more advance," you smirk at the bot that rolls around the counter beside you.

"I've already asked and he refuses to give me one."

You laugh, "As he should! You're a menace with this little thing," you gesture to the bot with the wooden spoon in your hand.

"I'm just making sure you're not lonely when I'm away!"

"Baby, I love you, but we both know you're the clingier one between us."

You laugh as the bot turns around and rolls towards a corner, appearing as if Joaquin is pouting.

"Take it back."

"No, because it's true! And I didn't say it was a bad thing, Joaco!"

"No, no, no. It's fine. Screw me for being super duper in love with my beautiful and amazing girlfriend." he proceeds to roll towards the edge of the counter and you stop him.

"You're so dramatic," you say with a smirk as you pick up the bot and raise it to eye level.

"But you love me."

"Yes, I do. Very much," you kiss the bot and set it back on the counter, "Were you going to watch me eat dinner?"

"Nah. I'll let you go. I need to work on reports or Sam will get on me again."

You snicker, "Alright," you set the bot onto the floor, "Love you. Bye!"

"Love you! Byyyyyeeeeee!" he elongates the word as rolls all the way back to the dock, causing you to laugh to yourself.