#I still can’t wrap my head around those and then I scramble them and make them harder

[shyvioletlife]

After spending five and a half months deep in my Genshin hyper fixation, I think I can safely say that Sumeru is my favorite region so far in terms of writing, story, and pure overworld design (I’ve been to Fontaine functionally for resource gathering but avoided any story like the plague- though I have at least been broadly spoiled for the biggest beats). I have spent a pure month just doing quests here in Sumeru, exploring the overworld,and slowly making my way through the archon quest (currently on chapter 3 act 5!) and I’ve loved truly every moment of it. I’ve worked endlessly on and completed the aranara quest, I’ve been playing through the character story quests as I unlock them - something I completely failed to do for all previous regions. Just this week I finally progressed the main story and set out to actually explore the desert and I’ve been adoring that atmosphere too - the sheer amount of ancient ruins is deeply tickling an anthropological glee, especially since you can actually eventually explore these guys where in liyue they’re all superficial design.

I’ve admittedly been a little biased in wanting to learn about Sumeru because Nahida was the first five star I ever pulled earlier this year and I’ve been maining her ever since, so im very invested in her story, but I do also think that Sumeru is just overall much better and more comprehensively written in terms of what is still available in game. I’ve watched people talk about previous regions having experienced them as they happened, and it really shows in the current game just how much character and story was locked behind timed events in a lot of the early game - especially surrounding Inazuma. I knew before I even started playing about the balladeer - he well and truly broke containment when inazuma was happening so I saw so much talk about him and hype over his character. Imagine my surprise when playing through inazuma - the first time I ever interacted with his character in game was when I went through a domain quest trying to shut down the delusion factory and suddenly the balladeer is there, talking to me as though we’ve met before and the traveller and Paimon acting as though he’s been a massive thorn in their sides, and then we fight, I lose, he bounces with the gnosis off screen. It’s so bizarre and obviously missing context that it’s kind of hilarious. There are a lot of good story moments and I did genuinely really like playing through inazuma while I was in it, but there’s a stilted aspect to it from the missing story beats. Meanwhile in Sumeru, it feels like they got their act together around not putting important story behind limited events for the most part, because it actually feels like I’ve been through the story from start to finish with a connection to all the moving parts and a sense of buildup as more and more of the truth is revealed.

[sinofwriting]

4 plus 1 - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 1,499 Summary: Four times Logan celebrated mothers day and the first time he celebrated fathers day (part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

One

The first time Logan celebrated Mother’s Day, he was five. His grandpa had stolen him away from his momma, which had made him pout, but then he had crouched down in front of him and quietly asked if he wanted to buy his momma a present for Mother's Day.

His grandpa, whenever he told the story, always liked to joke that he was surprised that Logan’s head hadn’t fallen off with how hard he had nodded yes.

He had gotten taken to the store where Logan picked out a card that apparently said world’s best mom on it, which had made his grandpa grumble that he was way too young for his daughter to be a mom before letting him pick out a big bouquet of flowers.

Scrambling out of the car and into the house, Logan struggled to hold the flowers that were nearly bigger than him and the card, just barely able to see the way his momma’s jaw had dropped seeing him and the ways tears came to her eyes when he cheerfully wished her a happy momma’s day.

Two

In 2014, Logan got to celebrate mother’s days twice for the first time. His momma not even knowing or realizing that England celebrated it on a completely different day, her bemused expression at him giving her candy and a card staying in his mind.

She had still hugged him tight, pressing kisses all over his face and telling him she was the best son, which had made him squirm, telling her that she was the best momma, the two going back and forth until Logan gave up because she had started to tickle him and his stomach ached from laughing.

Three

Logan stares at the display in front of him, trying not to feel awkward with the eyes boring into him.

“Dude, these are like fifteen grand.” Oscar hisses under his breath. “Yeah and none of them are the one.” He hisses back, giving the employee a polite smile. “Do you have anything else?” Their eyes narrow a little, but they nod, an emotionless smile on their face. “Of course, Sir. Our next display.”

Following them over to the next display, his eyes immediately land on a necklace and he instantly points at it. “That one. I’ll take that one, please.” “Are you sure?” He frowns, “Yes. I’m sure.”

He turns to Oscar as they start to open the case. “Momma is gonna love that one.” “Do you have the money for that?” “Of course.” Oscar’s eyebrows raise. “Are you sure? Because if those were twenty thousand, I can’t imagine how much these will be.” Logan nods, shrugging. “Yeah. I’ve got money.”

The clearing of a throat makes Logan turn back around, the necklace is sitting on the counter in its opened box.

“This necklace is forty thousand pounds.” Logan hears Oscar taking in a sharp breath of air, but Logan is already reaching for his wallet. “I’ll take it. And no gift wrap please.” They blink at him before nodding. “Of course.”

Oscar hits his arm when they disappear with the necklace behind a curtain.

“Are you kidding me? Forty thousand pounds for a necklace? Pan is going to kill you! Mother's Day gift or not!” Logan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m eighteen now and it’s my money. Momma can’t kill me for buying her this. Besides, I haven’t given her a gift under a thousand dollars since I was like six. And she’ll love that necklace.” Oscar looks at him in disbelief, shaking his head. “Okay, it is way too easy to forget that Harry is a billionaire and by proxy you are.” “Something tells me you don’t want to know how much your birthday present was.” “What does that mean?” Logan smiles at Oscar, shrugging. “Logan, what does that mean?”

Four

“Can I help with anything?” Logan jumps at the sound of Max’s voice, nearly banging his head into the opened cupboard door if not for Max, quickly yanking him back. “Shit.” He curses, turning Logan around and running a hand over his forehead and head, checking for bumps. “You okay?” “I’m okay. You just scared me.” He chuckles. “Help with what?” Max eyes him for a moment. “Mother's Day. I know that it’s in between Miami and Imola for you guys, and I didn’t know if you wanted help with anything.” “Oh.”

Logan looks at the older man, he doesn’t need any help with Mother's Day. Already has his momma’s gift sitting in his closet, but Max is asking if he can help. Max cares about their relationship, so he finds himself nodding.

“Actually yeah.” Max’s whole face lights up. “What can I do?” Logan quickly says goodbye to his momma’s Christmas gift, but he guesses that what was supposed to be her Mother's Day can just be her Christmas gift. “There’s this watch she likes, but there’s maybe ten available in the world right now.” He starts to tell Max.

Plus One

Logan has never had a father. And as much as he loves his grandpa, he wasn’t really a father figure for him. The closest he got was maybe Oscar’s dad, but even then he never really saw him enough for that. Max though… Max feels like his dad.

He cares about him, and not just because he’s dating his mom. He talks to Logan, checks in on him, before the first session of every day, Max always ducks into the Williams garage to hug him. He brings him water every time he does media, even when he isn’t scheduled for media for a few hours.

It hasn’t yet been a year, but Logan already can tell he’s fighting a losing battle of not just calling Max his dad. And he knows that Max hasn’t let himself think of himself like that. He’s heard him call him his kid a hundred times, but never once has he called himself Logan’s parent or dad. Always respecting the relationship between his mom and him and the boundaries that Logan has set.

But Logan wants Max to call himself Logan’s dad. Wants to call Max dad to his face and not just to Oscar when he’s too tired to filter or to the media to make the journalists go a little crazy.

So he finds himself laying on the couch, head in his momma’s lap as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Can we talk?” “Always.” His lips quirk up a bit at the quick response. “It’s about Max.” Her fingers still for just a second before resuming. “What about Max?” Her voice is measured, smooth, and it gives Logan the courage to say the next words. “I want to call Max dad.” His voice goes quiet. “I want him to be my dad.” “Oh, baby.” And her voice breaks around the words.

He sits up to look at her. “Are you mad?” “No.” She smiles, reaching forward to cup his face. “No, baby. Not at all. I’m happy. I’m so happy.” “So, it’s okay?” She laughs, her free hand brushing away her tears. “Logan, you can call anyone you want dad, that’s not my choice, that’s yours.” “Do you think he’ll be okay with it? I want to do it on Father's Day. Give him a card too.” “I think Max will be over the moon.”

A week later, Logan shuffles into the living room, a breakfast tray in his hands, where Max is sitting, watching the recap for Le Mans so far.

“Hi.” He greets. Max smiles at him, “You didn’t need to bring me breakfast.” He shakes his head, stopping Max from getting up. “I wanted to. It’s a special day.” “I mean, Le Mans isn’t this kind of special.” Logan huffs out a laugh, handing over the tray to Max, who places it on the coffee table before sitting on the couch next to him.

“Get enough sleep?” Logan nods, running a hand through his hair, the other clutching at the card he has for Max. “Wasn’t too bad. I actually have something else for you, because y’know special day.” Max’s eyebrows raise and Logan can feel nerves fill him. “I still have no idea what you are talking about.” He shrugs and after a moment he passes over the card, carefully watching Max’s face.

Max looks delighted at getting handed the card, but Logan can see the moment he realizes what kind of card it is. His eyes going wide, his whole body stilling. The room would be quiet if not for the Le Mans highlights playing.

The older man carefully opens it up after a long moment, his breath catching as he reads the written words from Logan.

“Logan,” he starts, and his voice is thick. “Happy Father's Day, dad.” Logan speaks before he can say anything else. “Come here.” He finishes, opening his arms, and Logan dives into them. “I love you so much, kid. So fucking much. I’m gonna be the best dad for you.” “You already are.”

[spdrwdw]

Pairing: 1042 Miguel X f!reader Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI) fluff, smut, food play (Is that a term?), Miguel has a weird kink ( it is still kinktober, after all), oral-m/f receiving, slight breeding kink, unprotected intercourse, no use of y/n Summary: Miguel seems to have a sweet tooth. Not only for the birthday cake you are making for Gabriella's birthday, but also for you. Word Count: 2018 A/N: Thank you to @phoenixflower468 who requested some earth 1042 Miguel content! I will continue working on my other requests. Thank you to those who submitted requests to help my writer's block! ALSO; if you'd like to be tagged for my future fics, please let me know! No translations at the end. I figured most of Miguel fic readers already know some of the Spanish pet names and phrases used by now, lmao Check out more of my work on my Masterlist

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Tomorrow was Gabriella’s birthday and you were scrambling getting the cake finished. It was already eleven at night and you were covered in flour and frosting. Or was it icing? You could never tell them apart. Anyway, you were decorating the cake when you heard footsteps coming down from the stairs. 

You quickly paused what you were doing, trying to hear the footsteps. They were too heavy to be Gabriella’s. Miguel was coming downstairs to check on your progress. 

“Miguel. Mi amor, I thought you were sleeping already,” You spoke softly as he made his way into the kitchen, taking a seat on the stool across from you. 

“I miss you,” he pouted. God. He was too adorable. He was six foot nine of pure muscle and dad bod and yet he was the most adorable thing in the world. Besides Gabriella, of course. 

“Lo siento, Miguel. I’m just trying to get this cake finished,” You apologized as you went back to work. Thankfully, those baking lessons you took back in college were finally paying off. The cake didn’t look half bad at all. 

“Why are you making a cake rather than just buying one?” He asked as he took a bit of leftover frosting..or was it icing..and licked it from his finger. You couldn’t help but to bite your lip at the sight. The simplest things this man did made you go feral. It just wasn’t fair.  

He noticed your expression and smirked. Oh, he was such a bastard! 

“What?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He simply contained the smirk on his face and grabbed more of the frosting onto his finger and opened his mouth, tongue sticking out slightly before slipping his finger in, letting out a moan. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep your composure. 

“I still need that, you know?”

Miguel chuckled and shrugged. “You know how I get around sweets, querida. I have such a sweet tooth.”

You simply gave him a look before grabbing your things and went back to decorating the cake. 

“Yes well, that sweet tooth of yours is going to have to hold off until tomorrow, Miguel. I can’t have you messing this up,” you grumbled, trying to concentrate on your work. You were almost done. 

As you tried to concentrate on drawing up some flowers, you could feel Miguel’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, his chin resting against your shoulder as he watched you work. 

“You’re doing amazing,” he complimented, placing a kiss on your cheek. You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get you distracted. 

“Thank you, mi amor,” you hummed, trying to not let him get to you. At least, not until you were finished with Gabri’s cake. 

Surprisingly, he was actually behaving, watching you in admiration as you finished up the cake for your daughter. 

“Looks perfect,” he hummed as you nodded your head in approval, marveling at your work.

“It does, doesn’t it?” You smiled, glancing over at him before pecking his cheek. 

“Mind putting it in the fridge while I clean up?”

Miguel nodded his head and did as he was told before an idea popped into his head and he glanced over at you. 

“Take the frosting upstairs with you,” he said, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What? Why?” You asked as you continued to clean the kitchen island.

“I want to try something,” he stated. 

“Try what?” You pressed, curious as to why Miguel wanted to take the leftover frosting upstairs.

“Just..I’ll show you when we get up there. Come on, mi vida. It’s getting late.”

—-

“What on earth? Miguel!” You gasped as you now laid completely naked in bed, with your hands tied above your head. It was to prevent you from stopping Miguel and his shenanigans. 

Miguel shushed you as he squirted some frosting out of the piping bag and onto the bottom of your navel, leading a trail all the way down to your pubic bone. 

“I told you I had a sweet tooth, mi vida,” he chuckled before he began licking the frosting off of you. 

Your body twitched a bit and you tried to fight back a moan. You had to keep quiet. You didn’t want Gabriella to wake up. 

“And you thought this would be a good way to ease your sweet tooth?” You questioned as Miguel began to coat your breasts with the frosting before taking a breast into his mouth, licking and sucking off the sweetness, swirling his tongue around your nipple and tugging at it before doing the same with the other breast. You couldn’t conceal your moans any longer. 

“M-Miguel..please..” you breathed. 

“Hmm? Please what?” Miguel asked, a smirk on his lips.

“You’re making me all sticky,” you pouted. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll wash it off of you later,” he continued to smirk before taking hold of your chin and ordered you to open your mouth. You did as he said, and he squeezed some frosting into your mouth, keeping it along your tongue before he kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to catch the sweetness. 

“Mmm, tastes so much better coming from the pretty mouth of yours,” he moaned, licking his lips.

“Alright well, don’t be greedy. Let me in on some of that, too,” you stated. 

Miguel chuckled and freed your hands before he began to take off his own clothes. Geez, how did you get so lucky to have a man like him as your husband and father of your child? 

Miguel then laid down on the bed as you straddled his waist and saw him open his mouth, tongue hanging out as he waited for you to squirt some frosting onto his tongue. You did just that, shaking your head before leaning down and kissed him hard, all teeth and tongue as you tasted the sweetness in his mouth. 

In no time at all, you were both sticky and smelling sweet. The piping bag was now discarded somewhere on the bed, and you were now sitting on his face. Honestly, it was the best seat in the house, if you had anything to say about it. 

Miguel was eating you out as if your pussy was the sweetest thing on earth. Tongue slobbering over your folds, teeth nipping at your clit, and long fingers curled into you, hitting you at just the right spot, making you see stars. You couldn’t help but to grind against his face. Miguel could take it, though. He was sturdy. 

You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, your other hand stroking his meaty cock. You could feel the veins twitching as your wedding band rubbed against them. Leaning over, you finally took him into your mouth, slowly, of course. You could feel his moan vibrating through you as he continued to eat your pussy, causing you to moan out around his cock in response. After taking in as much of Miguel’s cock as you could, you began bobbing your head, the tip hitting the back of your throat every time. 

It wasn’t long until you felt him twitching in your mouth, and you doubled down on your efforts, pumping him with one hand, and gripping his balls with the other as you continued bobbing your head. 

You felt his tongue assaulting your pussy, running through your bundle of nerves while his fingers curled up and rubbed against that spot that made you see stars. 

In no time at all, you were orgasming into each other’s mouths, and you didn’t dare to waste a single drop of him. 

Before you could even blink, Miguel picked you up and flipped you over, pinning you down onto the bed, lining himself between you and rammed his cock into your soaked pussy. 

“Oh! Miguel!” You gasped as he pounded into you. The wet, sticky sounds of skin hitting against skin bounced off the walls, filled with the harmony of yours’ and Miguel’s moans. 

“You feel so good, mi amor. So fucking good,” Miguel groaned through gritted teeth. 

“Kinda makes me wanna put another baby in you. Think that’d be okay?” He grunted. The thought of filling you up and getting you pregnant with another baby made his cock twitch inside of you. 

Eh, the conversation of having another child did come up every now and then, and..yeah, why not? Gabriella deserved a sibling. 

“M-Miguel..” You breathed, your mind going fuzzy as you tilted your head back against the pillows. 

“Qué pasa, amor?” He cooed once he leaned over and pecked you on the cheek, his pace still brutal. You were so close to your orgasm, you gritted your teeth.

“Can’t handle my cock? Hmm? Is my pretty wife gonna cum?” He continued to coo, pivoting his hips against you in a more snapping manner. 

“Cum over my cock, mi amor.”

And you did. Because when he commands you to do something such as this, you do it, gladly. 

“That’a girl,” Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting sloppy as he reached his limit and came, coating your walls with his seed, filling you up just how you loved it. 

Once he was finished, Miguel slowly pulled out of you and laid on top of you, however, didn’t put all his weight on you cuz, the man is huge.

Miguel rested his head over your shoulder as you both caught your breath. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer before kissing his cheek. You just loved him so much. He was a great husband, and a wonderful father. The best person you could ever imagine having as your life partner. 

“You alright?” He then asked, a cheeky smile on his face as he gently rubbed your back. 

“I’m fine, Miguel,” You giggled softly before kissing him sweetly just as you heard something coming from the hallway. Your eyes suddenly went wide. 

Gabriella.

The bedroom door opened as you both scrambled to get your naked bodies under the covers. 

Gabriella slowly stepped in, rubbing her sleepy little eyes as she held her stuffed bunny in one hand. 

“Mamá? Papá?” She muttered. 

“¿Qué pasa, mija?” Miguel asked softly as Gabriella stepped further inside. 

“I can’t sleep,” she said, looking up at the both of you. 

“Oh, Gabri. Do you want to sleep here with us?” You asked her, and she quickly nodded her head. 

“Okay, go grab your blankie and your pillow.”

She then smiled and nodded her head before walking out of the room, and you and Miguel both bolted to the dresser and closet to grab some clothes and a quick change of sheets. 

As you fixed up the bed, Miguel as in the bathroom getting himself cleaned up, and then you stepped into the bathroom to do the same just as Gabriella came back in, holding her bunny, blankie and pillow. She climbed onto the clean bed just as you both made your way back out of the bathroom. Miguel closed the door and turned off the lights and joined you two, wrapping his arms around Gabriella. 

“Feel better, mija?” You asked with a smile and Gabriella nodded her head, grinning.

“Yeah! I kept hearing these weird sounds and I couldn’t sleep,” she said, causing you and Miguel to look at each other with slight embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Gabri. Hopefully you won’t hear them again,” you told her, gently stroking her hair as she snuggled up against you. You noticed Miguel pouting over at you, to which you rolled your eyes and smirked at him.

“Let’s get some sleep. It’s your big day tomorrow,” you reminded her, kissing her cheeks as she giggled, nodding her head. 

“Good night, ladies,” Miguel said, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you and Gabriella closer to him, having your daughter sandwiched in the middle; which she loved. 

“Night night, papà,” Gabriella giggled. 

“Goodnight, Miguel,” you smiled over at him and leaned over to give him a goodnight kiss, still being able to taste the frosting on his lips. 

Perhaps you had a bit of a sweet tooth as well. 

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Tags: @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

[reidology13]

I tell someone I love them (just as a distraction)

Spencer Reid x fem famous!reader

Summary: In the depths of his addiction, Spencer finds someone who needs an escape as much as he does. cw: talk of addiction, allusions to sex (no actual smut), angst no happy ending

Part 2 here!

Meaningless whispers of ‘I love you’ mumbled between laboured breaths and cold kisses in an apartment that doesn’t feel like mine. The sheen of sweat that coats his body is nearly constant these days, it has nothing to do with physical exertion. The glaze over his hollow eyes is the furthest possible thing from pleasure, although by now he might have his wires crossed. His face is beautiful, and I can see myself marrying it in another life, one where my chest isn’t as hollow as his cheeks. A life where I don’t have to ignore the fresh scars in the crook of his elbow as I pull his shirt off.

I am not in that world, and neither is he, a reality that I cannot grieve because this is what I asked for, what I have been working for since before I can remember. The parties that leave me empty and sick, the performances that start the moment I leave the stage, the new friends who tag along for my name. I love him because he doesn’t care about any of it, if only because he’s too high to care about much at all.

I don’t feel anything when I finish, I’m not sure he does, either. I watch as he disappears from my side, already scrambling to his bag, searching through it until he finds what he needs. He slips into the bathroom, finally taking his chance to feel something after the numbness of the night. He has his escape, he used to be mine. I wonder if one day the chemicals he defiles his veins with will stop calming his ever racing mind, or if I just need a higher dose.

When he comes back, I pull him close to me, dragging him back down into the bedsheets and sweat. It works this time, my skin alight with every electrifying touch as his fingers dance gracefully across my body. His hands shake as they move, a feeling that makes my nerves sing as a lump forms in my throat and my heart sinks to my stomach. He looks up at me with those brown eyes that would be so gorgeous if they held any emotion, anything but that violent hunger for a craving he should have satisfied moments earlier. He can’t up his dose as easily as I can, can’t pull his vice back to bed without the risk of never waking up. He doesn’t bother saying that he loves me this time, we both know it’s not true. Or maybe it is, but there are things he loves much more, and telling me he loves me debases one of the only pure things left in the world. I’m glad he doesn’t try this time.

He holds me afterwards, his trembling body not yet ready to stand up, or maybe he knows that the moment he does he’ll be back inside the bathroom. I turn my head away, and as he buries his face in my shoulder, I pretend I don’t feel the apology he mouths against my glass skin. He runs a hand down my upper arm, his touch tentative and light, scared that I’ll shatter into a million pieces. My heart does. If he knows about the tear that runs down my face, he ignores it, and I’m not surprised. Ignorance is what we’re good at, after all.

When I wake up, he’s gone, slipped into the early morning, or called into the job that he shouldn’t be doing in his condition. I crawl out of my cold, damp sheets, the disgusting aftermath of our night. The sick feeling that perpetually sits in my gut, loosening under him, twisting tighter under the sun of the next day. 

Slowly, I peel back the layers of sticky fabric, watching how they cling to my skin and each other as I force them into the washing machine. I turn it on.

Fresh sheets are laid out on my bed, sheets that haven’t yet witnessed the tornado of us, still clean and untainted by tears and sweat and words that never mean anything. I lay the sheet over the mattress, fighting to wrap it around all four corners as it perpetually escapes one, always sitting just slightly wrong. I place the pillows down carefully, fighting the urge to punch them like I’ve been wanting to punch his face every time he shows up at my door.

I can see myself marrying him in this world, too, getting him the help he needs and staying with him through it all. He would be able to be there for me when I need it, not an escape from, but support through the other parts of my life, a person to love and talk to about the hard things. But I know that is still impossible. One day, he will sober up and disappear, or I will be an uninvited guest at his funeral. There’s no option that ends well for both of us, the best we can do is take it as it happens and ignore everything.

I watch as the last blanket floats down over the bed, carelessly adjusting its corners. It looks exactly the same.

[crushribbons]

please for the love of all things good if you could write a smut abt bestfriend!sebastian where he sneaks into our dorm room in the middle of the night (for the 5th time that week) because he can’t sleep 🙏 thank you in advance

ohhhh so you speak my love language helllll yeahhhh

(went a slightly dif direction teehee xx 18+ ONLY!)

---

"Is this going to be an every night type of thing?"

"Mm, yeah, every night that your feet are this warm."

Sebastian's own feet (or rather, icicles) slid under hers and she hissed and tried to yank the duvet away from him. He whined, cuddling closer to her and setting her skin on fire in the process.

She stammered, "B-back off, you hog," and Sebastian wrapped his arms tighter. His frame tucked so neatly around her, she hated how natural it felt. He was so fucking cold--why was sweat beading across her chest?

He was humming under his breath. "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts! Teach us something, please."

"Don't," she groaned. "It'll be in my head all week."

Silence settled between them. The room felt heavy and still, and she was keenly aware of how her heart would thump every time Sebastian shifted around. Her owl sighed a wispy trill. She strained her ears towards the door, hoping to determine whether those were footsteps shifting around downstairs. Sebastian sensed her train of thought.

"Your parents went to bed ages ago."

"They still might have heard the door."

"We are twenty-one years old," Sebastian laughed, husky, in her ear. Fuck. "And your mother seems to think we ought to be wed to one another or some similar type of nonsense."

Words, her brain urged her. Say words. Now!

"She just loves having company for the holidays. She'd want me to marry a grindylow if it told her that her apple crumble was scrumptious."

A huff of air from Sebastian's nose hit the back of her neck, and she didn't need to see her own reflection to know she was bright red. She wished on every star that she could make out through the gauzy curtains that he had worn a shirt to bed. He didn't seem nearly as affected as she was.

How much longer could they toe this line? Seeing each other almost every day after work, visiting each other's family homes for the holidays, falling asleep at each other's flats and, as a result, far too often, crawling into the same bed with the sometimes muttered excuse, "Warmer this way."

All he had to do was say the word, any word, and she'd make this whole thing a lot less...friendly.

"What are these garments you adorn yourself in, m'lady?" Sebastian grumbled as he felt the foreign material at her hips between his fingertips. She swallowed back the moan that rose in her throat. Silly, getting this hot and bothered over a little physical contact. Then his hands were sliding down her hips inquisitively and the moan slipped out without warning. She scrambled to recover.

"Silk," she replied, her voice raspy.

"Too fancy for me," Sebastian sighed, and he let his body crumple completely into hers, and it was heaven and bliss, and Sebastian had finally warmed up so she let herself melt into him. Everything was blurring pleasantly around the edges of her vision: the room, the outline of the sleeping tawny owl by the window, the boundary between her and her dear, best friend Sebastian, who at that very moment was snaking one hand away from her waist and pressing it down between his hips and the curve of her ass.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and when Sebastian tsk'ed in annoyance, she realized exactly what he was doing and humiliation flushed her cheeks.

He tried to pull away from her a few inches, and she whined, "Hey--you're just getting all warm!" but she felt him shake his head. She rolled over to face him and he closed his eyes when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm, uh." He squeezed his eyes tight shut, then dared to open one and peek at her. "I'm sorry. I kinda got..." He gestured down to his free hand, which was currently doing its best to conceal...

Her cunt throbbed, wetness pooling. He was hard, and the hand pressing his erection down couldn't cover it entirely. She felt her lip slide between her teeth. Sebastian's chest, splattered with freckles and a light layer of chestnut hair, was rising and falling too fast. They locked eyes.

"Should we?" He didn't finish the question. He didn't have to.

Should we? she thought. She didn't care.

They fucked, slow and tender and hot and fast, until the orangey glow of dawn kissed the room. When she rolled her head to the side, hair mussed all over her pillow, and saw the tiny light filtering through the window, she laughed to herself, but it was pathetically choked off when Sebastian's nose pushed against her clit in perfect little circles. Her hips arched and she used the handful of wavy hair in her hand to pull him deeper into her. He chuckled into her pussy, and the feeling of his smile pressed against her weeping heat had her riding his face until she eeked out a broken, "Fuck, Seb, baby!"

He shushed her, although his face was still buried inside her, occupied with cleaning every last drop from between her legs.

"Have you got one more for me, darling?" he purred over her fevered panting.

"N-no! I d--!" Sebastian covered her protestations with a sloppy kiss, lips still covered in her, and her body suddenly found the wherewithal to endure one more mind-bending orgasm. She moaned and pressed her chest to his and he laughed again.

His cock slipped in easily this time. The first two, three? Merlin, four? times, his size had been almost too much for her. But a groaned, "Fuck, so tight for me, just like I always dreamed..." was what ultimately pushed her to the edge the first time.

What pushed her to the edge this time were the desperate, rough thrusts he fucked up into her with, and the gleam in his eye as he panted, "You'll be lucky if I don't keep you in this fucking bed all day, shit! I'm...f--fuck, I'm coming!" He grabbed her hips and pumped once, twice, three more times.

"In-inside me," was all she could get out before her body hummed with a high-frequency, white-hot pressure, and she collapsed onto Sebastian's chest. He held her tight while he filled her up, and afterwards did not pull himself out while they caught their breath.

"Hey," Sebastian said suddenly, breaking the hazy quiet that had settled around their intertwined bodies.

"Mm?"

She felt him smile to himself. "Nothing."

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

doing the laundry

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, mdni, smutty domesticity, könig likes panties a lot ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (just like everything with panties i could think about), mutual mast*rbation, creampie)

König said he was gonna do some chores before we head out for dinner, but it seems like he's taking his sweet time. I go to look for him in this big ass house, running down to the cellar, where the washing machine and the dryer are. He said he'll do the laundry, so I'll probably find hi-

I peak my head in the door and my mind blanks, the words halting in my throat when I see him. Standing in front of the washing machine, his shorts pulled down, pooling around his knees. His hand is around his dick, moving up and down his length in hasty motions.

A piece of fabric between the fingers of his other hand. His nose buried deep in the soft purple, grunts dropping from his lips as he fucks his fist.

The frilly lace is giving it away. Those are my panties. My panties!

He is never shy about telling me how much he likes my taste, how much he loves having his face buried in my pussy. But this is a little different. My jaw drops, a gasp torn from my lips and he finally notices me. Dropping the hand from his face. Red hot blush staining his cheeks when he looks at me.

"Oh fuck, Liebes... I'm sorry.", he almost stammers, his mouth falling open, sucking in air.

Fuck. He looks so good. His chest peppered with dark hair heaving with his deep breaths. A stray strand of hair hanging over his face, sticking to his cheek. His abs taut, his dick hanging heavy between his legs, hard and red. The tip is leaking precum, wetting his hand, leaving stains on the sweatpants, as he tries to pull it up. Caught red-handed jerking off sniffing my panties.

As he is scrambling to get himself together, I take a few steps into the room, in his direction. Stopping his wrist when he tries to pull his sweatpants up even further.

"Don't stop on my account.", I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss onto his jaw. He's still frozen in place almost like a statue, as I brush a strand of hair out of his face. Leaving him standing there as I make my way to the washing machine, lifting the hamper from its top and setting myself on the plastic covered surface.

Stupid heady desire rushing through my veins while I get rid of my jeans, purposefully keeping my panties on, a similar pair to the one he still got in his right hand. His eyes widen a little bit, the lustful stare meeting me while I sit there.

"I wanna watch.", I say, hoarse, almost soundlessly.

A little shiver shakes him, I can see it in the way his shoulders tense for just a moment.

"Okay." Taking one, two steps back until his back hits the wall, his hand dropping to his dick again as he leans back. This time it's the one holding my panties, the lace wrapping around his girth while he slowly starts to jerk off, his eyes meeting mine, a little smirk playing around his lips.

It’s not the first time seeing him play with himself, but still…

Mesmerized I watch him, biting my lip. I lean back too, propping myself up on my arm, and lift my legs up, positioning them at the edge and dropping my knees to the side. Showing off the panties I'm wearing right now, the fabric over my pussy already a little damp. Seeing him like that got me worked up a bit...

My hand moves down my body until it's between my legs, the fingertips brushing over the wet lace and I can't help but moan, the first contact with my clit - even through the fabric - making me squirm.

He falters a little bit, his eyes intently on my fingers, his own hand stopping for a moment before picking up speed again. He spits, down at his own dick, wetting it a little more, while gripping tighter.

My strokes get needier, feeling the wetness seep into the fabric as I start to rub myself, my hips bucking into my hand and I can’t help the sounds I’m making. Feeling the roughness of the lace against the sensitive skin, and the growing slick underneath.

As I pull the fabric to the side, he sighs. “Hmm, yes, stuff yourself, Hexe.”, the little order dropping from his lips.

And I’m more than happy to oblige, my middlefinger slipping into me. Adding another finger quickly, sighing as I try to reach deeper. Giving him full view of how I’m fingering myself, a little grin stalking onto my face, moans getting pulled from me as I push inside me, over and over again.

The simmering heat in his gaze feels like soft touches all over my body while he fucks his fist, his brows pulling together, his eyes glazing over as his jaw goes slack, a telltale sign that he is close.

"Fuck, g'na come.", he groans, his hand moving faster up and down his shaft, squeezing the tip with every pass.

"Not yet.", I tell him harshly, and he lets go of his dick, almost surprisinfly obedient. Breathing heavily, but just looking at me, his eyes narrowing, the lids droopy.

"Come here.", I mouth, making a 'come hither'- motion with my fingers, ignoring the wetness on them, and he follows in an instant.

"Yes, Ma'm."

Just two strides and his thighs almost collide with the washing machine, his dick hanging between us as he props himself up with one arm and leans forward.

I take the panties from his grasp, telling him "Open up." and he drops his jaw without hesitation. I love it when he takes charge, doing me however he likes to, but seeing the big hulking man just do everything I tell him to, also does things to me.

The look on his face, when I push my panties into his mouth, his eyes rolling back, groaning, sends another shiver over me. His hips rut forward, the tip of his dick nudging against my pussy, against the panties I'm still wearing, which only makes him groan more, the sounds getting muffled by my undies.

I chuckle a little, pressing a tiny kiss to his nose, before I pull the already soaked fabric to the side. He doesn't wait another second, pushing into me, and the sudden stretch pulls a loud whine from my lips. My hands shoot out to hold onto him, my fingertips digging into his shoulders as he grips the top of the washing machine and starts to fuck me. Deep hard thrusts, pushing me into the surface, and I desperately try to meet his movements, try not to get pushed off the surface.

He never holds back his sounds, his grunts and deep moans intermingling with mine when he is fucking me, but with the impromptu gag they get stifled in the most delicious way. Sounding a bit more desperate too. My own sounds reverberate off the walls, the small cellar room creating an echo of my moans, the slapping of skin against skin, the rattling of the machine underneath me as König's thrusts shake it.

The tip of his dick reaching deep inside me, his girth stretching me when he pushes balls-deep.

I reposition myself, my legs up high, ignoring the hardness of the surface beneath my butt. Leaning further back and my feet dangling over his shoulders as my knees get pushed into my front. The change of angle has me lose my mind, filling me up just right.

“Yes, yes, just like-”, I plead, my eyebrows pulled up, and my eyes going wide, the words getting stuck in my throat. I’m desperately hanging onto him, my fingernails digging into his biceps, leaving red marks - something he won’t mind at all - while I come. Making a mess on his lap, wetting the panties I'm still wearing even more.

König doesn’t stop, pushing my legs further back, his hands grabbing the plush of my thighs while he sinks into my pussy, his long hair whipping back and forth, the soft strands brushing over naked arms and shoulders. His eyes roll back, the expression on his face mirroring the one from before, when he had his nose buried in my panties, and he comes as well, his upper body shaking hard, the plastic surface aching as his hands press into it.

I can only stare at him, my mouth fallen open, my eyes fixed on him. The groan leaving his throat, getting caught in the fabric of my panties, sends a tingle down my spine.

His hips stutter forward, his dick pumping into me, sticky cum spurting inside me, spilling over my pussy and panties. He slows down, pushing into me one last time, slick dripping out of me.

He’s pulling back, softly caressing my thighs where his fingertips left little bruises with how hard he was grabbing me, lowering gently.

I jump from the washing machine, landing on the floor, grinning up at König. He’s still gagged, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. I reach up and pull my panties from his mouth, soaked in his spit, and he catches my wrist. Pressing a few soft kisses to it, and the back of my hand. When he lets go, I toss the little piece of fabric into the hamper.

“Thank you, Liebes.”, he hums, smiling down at me, drowsiness dropping his lids and blush staining his cheeks.

“Oh, you’re so very welcome, Sir.”, I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips while he pulls up his shorts.

Grabbing the waistband of my panties, I pull them down instead, the damp fabric clinging to me for a moment, and then I put them in his pocket, patting it, gesturing him with a little wink, that those were his now. As he seemed to like them so much.

He grumbles something in German, pulling me against him again, capturing my mouth in a kiss. A long and sweet one that has me melt against him.

“Shower and then going out to dinner?”, he suggests, pressing me against his sweat slick chest, his arm coming around me. “I’ll do the laundry later.”, grinning down at me apologetically. Like I ever could be mad at him when his little distraction lead to some hot and kinky sex.

"Yes, cause that was my last washed pair of undies.", I tell him, with a sly grin and a sidelook at the basket full of dirty clothes. "Seems like I need to take a page from your book and go commando for once."

He groans, the sound almost turning to a little growl. "You're killing me, Hexe."

I giggle. "Just pray that I don't pick out my one short dress today...", I tease him.

He catches my chin, making me look up at him as he leans down, coming closer and closer. "Oh, quite the contrary.", he drawls, his signature smirk stalking onto his face. "I pray that you wear that one cause I like it. And you're still gonna be a good girl and behave."

My mouth drops open, sucking in a breath as he presses a kiss to my lips which is a threat and a promise at the same time. He lets go of me, and I grin up at him, before I back away, still holding his gaze.

"We'll see...", I say, dashing away through the door, but his hand still lands on my butt in a loud spank. I laugh as I keep running, up the stairs.

“Can’t catch meeee.”, I shout over my shoulder which always does the trick. I’m scooped up within seconds, his strong arms lifting me up.

“If you keep this up, we’re never gonna catch the reservation…”, he grumbles, but I see the mischief flashing in his eyes.

My answer is a giggle, my hand tangling in his hair, grabbing the long strands between my fingers, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of his face.

~ More in the Masterlist ~

[clockwayswrites]

A bitty bit and a poll... cw: post canon typical violence, blood, offer of smuttiness ship: Danny/Jason

“Danny.”

“Hood,” Danny said, pushing his hair back as he turned Jason’s way. His thumb ran over the shaved side of his head. A streak of blood trailed behind by the motion.

“What did they want?” Jason asked. He kicked at the side of one of the groaning thugs for emphasis as he strode over to Danny.

Danny just shrugged. “The usual.”

“Not supposed to be the usual in my territory,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, well,” Danny said with that crooked grin of his. There was something all the more feral about the grin that night between the blood and the way the harsh magenta neon that adorned the outside of Danny’s shop broke through the light rain. “I’m in that grey zone; not in one place or the other.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re my mechanic so you’re my territory.”

Danny’s grin widened and he had the audacity to wink. “Kinky.”

“What did I say about shutting up?” Jason asked as he started to look Danny over for injuries.

Danny pliantly, and almost with amusement, let Jason check him over. When Jason found a cut on the other’s arm, he huffed, tossed the bloodied tire iron Danny was holding away, and started to roll up the sleeve of the black over shirt.

“It’s fine Hood, it’s nothing,” Danny said as he peered around Jason.

Without letting go of Danny’s arm, Jason pulled out a gun and twisted enough to point it at the thug who was helping the one Jason had kicked off the ground.

“This street is off limits.”

“Ain’t Crime Alley!” the one said, spitting blood. “Old Gotham is—”

“Right over there. This street? It’s mine,” Jason said. He cocked his gun for emphasis.

“It ain’t—”

“It ain’t worth dying over! Leave it!” the other thug hissed and tried to pull them away. “If fucking Red Hood says it’s his then it’s his! Now come on.”

“Make sure you take the rest with you,” Jason ordered. He kept his gun trained on them until they were long out of sight.

“Do I still have to shut up?” Danny asked cheekily into the silence. “Because I can think of some fun ways for you to make me.”

Jason turned slowly to look at Danny. “What.”

It wasn’t exactly a question. Jason knew what Danny was implying, but what?

Danny just shrugged, still with that smile. “Can’t a man thank his knight in leather armor? I mean, totally feel free to turn me down. I’m not going to pressure someone into that sort of thing, but I figured it didn’t hurt to offer. You seem like you’re a little tense—”

As if they weren’t just in a fight.

“—and could use the release. I’m not going to pretend that I would mind being between those thighs. So what do you say, wanna let me blow you?”

Danny might as well have hit Jason with that tire iron for how his thoughts scrambled at that offer. Who the fuck did that? Danny had no reason to. Jason already made clear that Danny was under his protection. Jason had also been ramping up the amount of work he gave to Danny versus handling himself. It wasn’t like the guy needed to offer sexual favors.

Jason shook his head, as if that would clear his confusion. “Next time or something. I’ve got work.”

“Sure, wouldn’t want to keep you,” Danny said and took a step back.

“Wrap that arm.”

“What arm?”

“Danny.”

Danny laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets as he backed up into his shop. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wrap it. Go out there and take on the big bad night, hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero,” Jason called after him. “And lock your damn door!”

Danny gave a cheeky salute before disappearing into the shop.

Brat.

---

AN: NOW, you all know by now, I'm sure, that I love playing around with how balanced Danny is as a half and his hair color and things like that. This is the new idea I was whining about earlier. It's going to be about as pwp as I'm able to get and supposedly a one shot. Danny is very, very forward, Jason is very, very confused (and later very, very satisfied). So all that said...

[bloodibambiidoll]

It was just a dream

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: So this is based on This request that @taintedcigs got and she gave me permission to write it because it’s kind of heavy. The request is based on reader dreaming about crying at Eddie’s grave but I did change it to you having a dream about the day he almost died. That’s just the way it came to me personally. You have a dream about the day Eddie dies, but you wake him in his arms, and he comforts you in every way possible. WK: 3k.

Warnings: In beginning of the fic although it is a dream I do describe Eddie’s death so read with caution if that upsets you, unprotected p in v, love making, fingering, hurt/comfort, Eddie being the sweetest goofball, fluff. 18+MNDI!!

A/N: I’ve never written a single thing where I acknowledge “the scene” or Eddie dying, ever. Like I always write AU with no upside down. But after seeing those photos yesterday I’ve been feeling very emotional and I saw this request and idk it just kinda came to me. I did cry writing it, but it also comforted me a lot. But pls pls read with caution if this might be upsetting for you. Thank you to my lovely @babygorewhore & @bimbobaggins69 for beta reading for me. Sending everybody love.🖤

The muscles in your legs are screaming and your lungs burn with each step you take. The grey particle filled air feels like it’s filling your organs with each intake of breath. But it’s nothing compared to the tearing feeling in your heart, the anxiety and fear coursing through you pushing your aching body to keep running. The massive bite shaped gash in your calf is a distant sensation as your eyes zero in on the swarm of bats, eagerly searching for any signs of him.

“God fucking damn it, Eddie. Fuck!”

Tears stream down your cheeks and your throat is raw from the curses and screams you’ve been letting out for the last few minutes. At least you think it’s been minutes. It truly felt like it’s been hours since you watched him cut that rope. You screamed so loud you felt like your ear drums were going to burst. You scrambled back through the gate, injured leg be damned.

The minute you hit the ground, you didn’t stop. Not when you heard something in your shoulder crack, not when you heard Dustin screaming after you. You didn’t stop when one of those bats flew directly at you, you just ran faster, jabbing your spear directly into its heart as you went. And you weren’t going to stop. Not until you reached Eddie. You couldn’t. They’d have to kill you first.

The adrenaline in your body continued to push you forward, only a few feet away from the swarm now. You tried your best to focus your eyes through the endless streams of tears falling from them, and it took a few seconds but you finally saw him. Your heart lurched when you saw he was still standing, his shield held above him. It somehow gave you the strength to run faster, your spear slashing through the air at the bats to get to him.

“EDDIE!!!!!!!!!”

His head whips in your direction at the sound of your voice, a shocked look on his face. In the same moment he looks away a bat lunges at his side, taking a large bite out of him, causing him to cry out in pain.

“EDDIE NO!!”

You shove your spear into the bat that’s latched onto him and it lets out a shriek as it dies. Your relief is short lived because there’s a sudden stabbing pain in your already stinging shoulder and another one in your bicep.

“BABY!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! FUCK!”

Eddie can’t believe you’re here, you weren’t supposed to follow him. He knew he wasn’t making it out of this, and now he was going to take you with him. He never should’ve cut that rope. He slams his spear against the bat on your shoulder, while you shove your nails into the one on your bicep. But it’s no use, you’re surrounded. Every time you get one off, two more are on you, and he’s starting to feel weak.

In that moment he does the only thing he can think to do, he wraps his arms around you, tackling you to the ground. His covers his body with yours, his arms on each side of your head, his face hovering above yours so your eyes can meet.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Tears fall from his eyes and onto your cheeks, pooling together with the ones leaving your own eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You soothe him, your bloodied hands reaching up to cradle his face. His eyes are shut now, his body tensing over and over as he uses it to shield yours against the bats attacks. “At least we are together, yeah? Kiss me.”

He obligees, his dirty sweat stained lips meeting yours in a desperate kiss. He kisses you over and over until he physically can’t anymore. His head lulling to the side against your chest. You hold onto him for dear life, barely even feeling the chunks you’re sure are being taken out of your forearms. You feel like it’s never going to end, until suddenly it does. The attacks all stop at once, a chorus of thuds sounding around you. Then you hear Dustin’s voice calling your names, it’s distant, but it’s there.

“Eddie, Eddie, they’re dead.” You shake him slightly and he groans. “You gotta get off me so I can take a look at you baby.”

“Oh my god!! Are you guys okay!?” You see Dustin’s panicked face standing over you and you wish you had it in you to make a sarcastic remark about how you’re obviously not, but you don’t.

“Dustin! Help me, help me roll him over, please.” You practically beg him, your sobs still haven’t stopped, the shallowness of Eddie’s breath taking away any relief you felt about the bats being gone.

Dustin bends down, rolling Eddie off you as carefully as he can. Eddie whimpers when his back hits the ground and you immediately shoot up right, leaning over him.

“Eddie, sweetie, can you look at me?”

“Bad, huh?” He groans, a slight smirk still somehow present on his face.

“No no, Eddie you’re gonna be okay.” Dustin is on his knees how, trying to access Eddie’s injuries through his panic.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” Your heart breaks at the sound of his voice, this can’t be fucking happening.

“No, baby, you didn’t. But we’re gonna get you okay of here, okay?” You grab rub your thumbs over his temples, resting your forehead against his.

“Yeah, we just gotta get you to a hospital, come on, you guys gotta get up.” Dustin begs, tears fall from his eyes and it breaks your heart even more. You hate that he has to see this.

“I just… I need a second.” Eddie groans, his hand weakly reaches for your face, cupping it like he’s done a thousand times before, like you’re scared he will never do again. “I love you, I love you so much baby. You’re my everything, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you Eddie, I love you. It’s gonna be okay don’t apologize because it’s gonna be okay.” You rub your nose against his, he feels cold and his breathing is more shallow than ever.

“Dustin…” he turns to his young friend with a found smile. “You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?”

“No, no, you’re gonna do it yourself” Dustin’s sobs cause a new wave of your own to wrack through your body, shaking every bone.

“Nah man… you’re gonna do it for me…” Eddie smiles, patting Dustin’s cheek with all his strength. “Baby girl… you’re gonna be okay, okay? I’m … so sorry. I love you.”

His hands start to slip from both of your faces, his eyes falling shut.

“Eddie? Eddie!! No, no, no, no. Baby stay with me.” You shake his face, but this time you get no response. Your hands clutch onto his hair, your head falling to his chest. “NO!!! NO! NO NO NO NO!!! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!!! EDDIE NO!!!”

You feel like the world is shaking around you, you feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest. You can’t lose him. You feel warm hands on your shoulders shaking you as someone says your name over and over again. You push them off. You aren’t leaving him. They’ll have to leave you here.

“Baby!!!! Wake up!!!! You’re dreaming, it’s a dream, I’m here.” Eddie’s voice finally gets through to you, and your dream hazed mind vaguely starts to recognize the feeling of his arms around you. You come back into your waking body slowly and then all at once, shooting straight up with a shriek.

You look around the room panting, it’s still dark, and you’re in bed. With Eddie. Eddie is alive. He didn’t die. The others got to you in time. You’re in your new fancier than you ever imagined, government tip off home. That you share with Eddie and Wayne. Eddie is alive. You start to repeat the mantra that’s become all to familiar to yourself in your mind as you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay, I’m here. It’s just a dream.” Eddie soothes you, pulling you into his lap so he can cradle you. He rocks back and forth, his hands running over every part of you, he makes sure to keep his grip strong, remembering that you said it makes you feel grounded. It makes you feel like he’s really here.

“Oh Eddie, it was so real. It was like I was really there again.” You sob into his bare chest as your hands desperately caress his skin. Some of it still has the same smooth texture you always remembered, most of it is rough from scars. But it’s just another thing that grounds you to reality, another reminder that he’s real and the dream wasn’t.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But it’s okay, I’m here, I’m always going to be here for you. I’m so sorry.” Eddie’s crying now, the guilt of leaving you, of putting you through this plagues him constantly. The dreams aren’t every night like they used to be, they’ve finally started to space out after almost a year. But it still pains him deeply that he put you through this. That on nights like this you scream out for him, because of him.

“It’s okay Eddie, it’s okay.” Your hands loop around his neck, pulling him close. You hate that he beats himself up, you understand why he did it and you’re just glad he’s alive, glad he’s here with you. But your unconscious mind couldn’t seem to get the memo. No matter how much you understood, no matter how much mental and physical healing you did in the waking hours, the dream always found its way back to you. “I love you. So much. I love you so much Eddie.”

“I love you baby, more than anything.” He wanted to apologize again, until his lungs gave out, but he knows you hate it when he does that. That you’ll just tell him there’s nothing to be sorry for, even though he will always feel like there is. So he does what he always does, he decides to show you how sorry he is without his words. To remind you how here he truly is.

He cups your face in his hands gently, like you’re porcine glass that could break at any moment. He rests his forehead against yours, just reveling in the feeling of being close to you. He takes deep breaths and you follow, you’re basically breathing each other's air but you don’t even care, you want it that way. He kisses you sweetly, once, twice, three times. The fourth kiss is more firm, but still so gentle. Your fingers lace through his hair as you shift your body so you're straddling him. His tongue softly licks across your bottom lip and you immediately grant him access, tangling it with your own.

He kisses you leisurely, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands roam your body. Your thin tank top is the only thing separating your skin from his but it feels like the thickest winter coat right now so you break the kiss to quickly pull it over your head. You press your chest against his, his skin against yours feels like a breath of fresh air and you sigh at the feeling.

“My beautiful girl, you’re so beautiful, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His brown eyes are soft and filled with love as they look into yours. He gives you a gentle kiss before his lips start to travel down your jaw and neck. Gentle caresses of his lips and flicks of his tongue pull breathy gasps and needy moans from you. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

“Yes Eddie, please.” It’s all you need right now, you need him as close to you as possible in every way. You need him.

“Lay back for me baby.”

You oblige, rolling off him and onto your back. You situate your head on the pillows and he climbs over you with a sweet smile on his face.

“Look at you, you think I’d ever leave someone as sexy as you? Not a chance baby.” He leans down and kisses you, his ringed hand caresses your inner thigh and you shiver. He brings it to your core, running his knuckles along your underwear covered slit. “I don’t think I could go a day without you.”

“You went like… almost two months without me when we were healing.”

“Shhh… that’s besides the point, that was like forced, doctor ordered, celibacy and it was almost more torture than the healing process. Don’t remind me of the dark times, babe.” You giggle at him, your heart warming at him just being Eddie. He stayed that way, laughing and joking, making D&D references through it all.

“You’re so dramatic. But, you’re not wrong. I missed you so bad when I couldn’t have you.”

“You can have me now babe, all the time, forever, whenever you want. I’m not going anywhere.” He smirks at you as he pulls your panties down your legs, you kick them off your ankles and spread your legs for him. He groans at the sight of your slick pussy, bringing two long fingers and running them through your lips. You moan and your back arches off the bed when he inserts them inside you, immediately curving them to hit that perfect spot.

“Fuck.” His fingers thrust in and out of you at the perfect pace, his thumb comes up to circle your clit and he leans down to place gentle wet kisses along your throat. “Oh god.”

“Yeah baby? Is that good? You gonna cum for me?” His fingers speed up and he gently nips at that spot on your neck that makes you crazy, his cock ruts against your thigh and it sends you over the edge. Your body tensing underneath him as moans rip out of you. “That’s it, good girl.”

He fucks you through your high, only pulling his fingers from you when he feels your body relax. He holds eye contact with you as he inserts the digits into his mouth, sucking your juices off them with a groan.

“Eddie… I need to feel you, please.” You reach for the band of his sweatpants, tugging at the material.

“No need to beg sweets, I’ve got you, I’m gonna take care of you.” He pushes his pants off, freeing his cock and taking it into his hand, stroking it a few times. He runs the tip through your slick folds, bringing it up to circle your clit before slowly pushing inside you. Once his hips are flush against yours he connects your lips again, kissing you passionately.

“Oh fuck, Eddie. Yes.” He starts to roll his hips, not pulling out of you, just reveling in the feeling of being inside you. You clutch onto his back, pulling him down fully on top of you, just wanting to feel his weight on you.

“Mmm you feel so good, so so good, pussy is always so good for me.” He’s kissing every inch of you he can reach, your cheeks, eyelids, neck, collar bones. He finally pulls his hips back, slowly pulling his cock almost all the way out of you before shoving it deep inside you again. He repeats this action a few times before thrusting into you deep and hard. He still has his weight on you, and he’s not fucking you fast, just taking his time feeling every single part of you. With his hands, his cock, his lips,

“Eddie, I love you, I love you, you feel so good.”

“I love you so much baby girl, more than anything, I love fucking you.” He picks up the pace a little, his hand snakes between your bodies so he can rub your clit.

“Oh fuuuuck, yes, Eddie I’m - I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Yeah, cum for me, I wanna see your beautiful face when you cum undone on my cock.”

His lips crash against yours, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth, he’s hitting that perfect spot over and over again and his fingers continue to circle your clit. It’s all so good, and it sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, you let out needy moans and gasps against Eddie’s mouth as your pussy clenches around him. He pulls away so he can see your face, and the sight has him spilling inside of you. He falls forward, his face buried in your neck. He places gentle kisses there in between panting breaths.

The position reminds you of the dream, the memory really, but this time it doesn’t sting, because Eddie is alive. He’s alive and he’s panting on top of you for the best reason, instead of the worst.

“Thank you.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Psh! Don’t be sorry, I got to be here for my girl and I got to have bomb sex? Seems like a win win to me.” You feel him smile against your neck and it makes you laugh.

He rolls off of you onto his back, and you have to push the thoughts of that day from your mind again but you don’t have long to think about it because he’s pulling you into his chest, running his hands down your back and placing a kiss on the top of your head before your mind can fully go there.

“But in all seriousness, don’t be sorry, okay? You know I’m always here for you. No matter what. Especially on nights like this. I’m all in, always. I fucking love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.” He puts his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. He smiles at you sweetly, placing a kiss on your nose, then your lips.

“I love you Eddie. I’m always here for you too. I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

You nuzzle into his chest, just happy to feel him. Just happy he’s alive. You might both be scarred, mentally and physically, and they might not ever fully heal. But at least you’ll always have each other.

[lackadaisicallizard]

Sundays

Growing up, Regulus hated Sundays. 

Sundays were mornings spent in church, pretending to the world that they were a perfect family. Sundays were stuffy clothes and tight ties wrapped around throats spouting nothing but lies about the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. 

Sundays were carefully coordinated games disguised as family lunches, the entire extended family coming together to outdo each other in just how well they were doing. Sundays were masterclasses in manipulation, lies and deceit. 

But now, fifteen years later on the most ordinary of all days, Regulus can hear voices coming from the kitchen. 

“I think that’s enough eggs, Haz, why don’t you add more flour now?” 

“How much do I need to add?” 

“I have no idea, just pour until it looks right.” 

Sliding on his slippers, Regulus makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. He leans against the doorframe for a moment, watching the scene in front of him. 

“How’s it going there?” His husband peers into the mixing bowl that seems to have more eggs in it than any hen could feasibly lay in a year. 

“The flour won’t come out of the bag,” Harry says with a frown. 

“Try banging on the end of it,” James suggests and before Regulus can even consider stepping in to stop him, their son does just that. He is far too much like his father for his own good sometimes. 

Flour ends up everywhere. 

“Papa’s going to kill me,” Harry groans through a layer of white dust. 

“Papa doesn’t have to know,” James says, “you finish the batter and I’ll clean it up.” 

Harry stirs it, a puff of flour rising into the air. “I think it may be beyond saving now, Dad.” 

“J’en ai marre,” their heads whip around at the sound of Regulus’ voice, both faces a similar mask of concern. “You two are useless.” 

He steps into the kitchen now, holding out his hand for the bowl, which Harry passes him with a guilty expression. “I love you?” 

Regulus’ own expression softens completely at that and he places the bowl on the counter before holding out his arms for his son. Harry moves into them without hesitation, being pulled into a warm embrace and leaning into his father. “Tu es la lumière de ma vie,” Regulus says, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s soft curls before pulling back and looking at him in the eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can get flour all over my kitchen though, compris?” 

“Oui papa, désolé. We were just trying to make you breakfast in bed.” 

“It’s true,” James cuts in, a smile pulling up the corner of his lips, “we know you’ve had a long week so we thought we’d make some pancakes.” 

Regulus smiles back, he can’t help himself. “I’m not sure which one of you thought you could pull that off considering the great scrambled egg fiasco last month.” 

“Those eggs were delicious and you know it!” 

“I had to go to the store for more and make them myself.” 

“… my comment still stands,” James says with a grin and Regulus rolls his eyes at his husband. 

“Harry, go and fetch the chocolate chips from the cupboard and I’ll attempt to salvage this.” 

Harry disappears into the pantry and as Regulus starts to decanter as much flour as he can from the very floury bowl, he feels arms wrap around him from behind. 

“I’m sorry about the flour,” James’ voice is low in his ear. 

Regulus hums. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” 

A soft chuckle followed by lips against his hair. “I’m also sorry for ruining your Sunday, love. I know it’s the first day you’ve had off in a while.” 

But the thing is, he hasn’t. 

Because Regulus knows what a bad Sunday feels like. They’re ingrained into his brain. 

But this right here? Making far too much batter to even out the mountain of flour that he can’t salvage from the bowl. Allowing his son to add almost an entire bag of chocolate chips to the mixture. Watching his husband smother a tower of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream. Cleaning up an incredibly messy kitchen together as a family after they’ve done. 

Well, this is what Sundays are now. They’re not perfect, or proper, or in the least bit civilised. 

And he loves every one. 

[castle-of-ruin]

Reacher Comes to Visit 2

A/N: Alrighty folks. Here it is. Part 2. A smutty one. I'm so beyond nervous. This is my first ever smut piece. I hope that all of you enjoy this.

Pairing: Jack Reacher x f!reader

Warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex (let's be realistic here it's fiction. I didn't do the right thing. Wrap it up!), lotsss of consent, oral (f!receiving).

Please please let me know if I missed any warnings!

I do not condone the copying of my work. Do NOT repost my work.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are all welcome. Again, I hope you enjoy.

Some visual inspiration for those who care.

The next morning, you awoke to an empty bed and empty house. You would expect nothing less. They had a job to finish, and you knew they were not sticking around long. Getting out of bed, you pull on some clothes and make your way to the kitchen. Much to your surprise, the place is spotless. A smile pulls at your lips. They might be a rough and tough bunch, but at their roots, they were good people. You laugh to yourself quietly as you imagine the four of them scrambling around your house and cleaning. Surely, Neagley was the one who orchestrated the whole thing. It was a heartwarming gesture, considering you may never see them again.

After fixing yourself a quick breakfast, you take the seat at the table and eat your food in peace. Reacher flashes in your mind more than once as you finish up your breakfast and put your plate in the sink. You didn’t know if you would ever see Reacher again, but every part of you wanted to. Something told you that he would be back, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Especially when you didn’t know if he was going to make it out of whatever mess he was in, alive. You shake your head, letting out a scoff. Knowing Reacher, he would be just fine. He was a great fighter and unbelievably strong. That much you had witnessed when he saved you.

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and once again, you found yourself getting ready for bed. It was well after nine o’clock when you heard that familiar knock on your front door once more. A gasp escapes your lips as you pull open the door and reveal Reacher on the other side. He gives you a small smile and shrugs his shoulders.

“I know, I look like shit.” He states with a smirk.

You took in the blood along the collar of his shirt and the even bigger bruise under his left eye.

“You’re right. You do. Come on.” You yank him in by the sleeve of his jacket. He comes in without any restraint, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom.

“Take that off,” you instruct.

The jacket slides off his shoulders as he shrugs out of it. You could have sworn you heard him wince but didn’t bring it up. Your eyes widen at the gash on his side, peeking through the holes on his shirt and the small cut on his neck. Whatever happened, he got beat to hell and back.

“Shit, I’m surprised you’re still standing, big guy.” You dab at the cut above his eye.

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you close to him.

“I can’t help you if you’re holding onto me, Reach.” You tell him as you stand between his legs.

Reacher pushes you back slightly and looks up at you. He didn’t need to speak to tell you he didn’t care about his wounds. That wasn’t why he was there. No, it was his want to hold you true to that promise you made him last night. Your hands rest easy on his shoulders as the two of you stare each other down in your small bathroom. Slowly, you allow yourself to place your hands on his cheeks, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment. He needs this just as badly as you do.

“Can I?” You ask, eyes drifting to his lips for a moment.

“Yes,”

Leaning in, you kiss him, this time with more fervor than before. His grip on your hips tightens, as if that's possible, and he stands towering above you. You can feel the countertop pressing into your lower back as he leans into you. Slowly, but surely, he backs you into your bedroom, not breaking the kiss for a moment.

Finding the hem of his shirt with shaky fingers, you tug at it softly, signaling to him what you want, asking for permission. Before you can verbally ask him, his shirt is flying into the other corner of the room. You laugh quietly and squeal when his hands find your ass and he lifts you in the air. Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, you kiss him again. Getting lost in the way his stubble scratches against your cheeks or the way his skin was so warm, you could feel the warmth through your blue jeans.

Reacher places you on the bed hovering above you briefly before attacking your lips once more.

“Let’s take this off, yeah?” He asks, fingers easing beneath your shirt.

You nod, giving him the okay. He pulls the shirt over your head and throws it across the room, and it lands with a loud thud. Reacher removes himself from you long enough to unbutton his pants and pull them off before he’s right back between your legs. You bite your lip as his black boxers hide no part of him.

The button on your pants pops open easily in your fingers, and you shimmy out of them. Reacher helps you get them off your ankles and drops them. Warm fingertips trace up your thighs, over your hips, and along your sides before Reacher hooks around behind you and undoes your bra. You shiver, as cool air wraps around your newly exposed skin. The chill is soon replaced by Reacher’s warm mouth as he uses his tongue to play with your nipples. Soft pants fall from your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck once more.

“Fuck,” You moan out.

Reacher hums against your skin.

“This is not the time for you to tease me, Reacher.” You practically growl.

You feel him chuckle against you. Instead of listening to you, Reacher moves down your body, littering your skin in kisses. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, and he looks up to you for a brief moment, asking quiet permission to take them off. You nod, and that's all he needs to practically rip them off you. Before you can adjust to the cool air his tongue finds your clit and you buck against him. Instinctively grinding your hips in unison with his tongue. Your moans grew louder as he worked at you longer, his large fingers toying inside of you. As you grow closer to release the warmth is ripped away when Reacher stands up once more. You almost protest, but stop when he rids himself of his boxers finally and comes back to you.

You watch as he runs his hand the length of his abdomen before settling on his cock. He strokes his cock in his fist a few times before running the head of his cock through your slick folds. A moan falls past your lips as he thrusts into you. Slow at first as he allows you to adjust to him, and he finds his rhythm. His hands hold your hips down as he thrusts into you, his pace picking up. Reacher drops his head into the crook of your neck and moans quietly. He bites down softly on the sensitive skin of your neck and you gasp.

Once again you wrap your arms around his neck as he fucks into you. He kisses you roughly as his thrusts meet yours. Moans fill the room as you feel yourself inching closer to your impending orgasm. A gasp falls past your lips when he lifts your leg, changing the angle in which he thrusts into you.

“Fuck,” You groan as he slows his pace with the new position.

Every delicious drag of his cock had shudders rippling through you. Cursing again, you pant out his name and close your eyes, the euphoria building in the pit of your stomach almost too much to bear.

“Look at me,” He instructs, gripping your chin softly.

Opening your eyes, you look at him, taking in the way his breathing labored, the way his pupils were blown out of proportion, and his green eyes were much darker than normal. He kisses you again, this time softer than before, but still just as bruising. Heat pooled in the pit of your abdomen as Reacher’s pace increased again. You were aware of each slow drag of his hips and counter thrust as he held you close as he neared his own release.

The coil in your stomach snaps, and you come, clenching around him as your orgasm wracks through your body. Not far behind you, Reacher finds his own release and collapses beside you. Spent you curl yourself up beside him and snuggle into his side, wanting to stay this way for as long as you could.

After laying there quietly with one another for some time, you prop yourself up on your elbow and take him in once more. His breaths were even once more, and his eyes drooped with exhaustion. Surely, he was exhausted after the day he had.

He surprises you by turning to face you. “I won’t wait two years to come back next time.” He murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“I’d like that.” You tell him, placing your hand on his shoulder and leaning in to kiss him again.

He pulls you close and holds you tightly, and as you drift off the sleep, he presses a kiss to the side of your head. Today was the day things would change, and for the better.

No pressure tagging some of the mutuals: @xxidontwikeitxx @cryingwriter @supernaturaldawning @gemstone-roses @a-reader-and-a-writer @quaritchscupquake

[heartfullofleeches]

my head is filled with thoughts of dkay and a darling who knew d’angelo and im gonna cry

mr devil u can’t do this to me

the heartbreak of your dear friend (or more 👀)’s personality being uploaded into a robot

it’s like they’re with you again but you can’t shake the uncanniness of it all

dkay jokes about d’angelo’s death and you can’t decide if it’s offensive or self deprecating

they’re so close but so far

The worst thing is joking about D'Angelo's death is exactly what he would've wanted-

"You crying over a dead guy already? You cry at my funeral and I'm coming back to haunt you until I see that smile again.... I know it's selfish of me to say that, but.... just trying to lift your spirits."

Laughter was the best medicine in D'Angelo's mind, especially as his condition took a turn for the worse. He knew dictating people's emotions was impossible, but also hated the sad looks from those he loved like he was already gone when he still had some fight in him. D.Kay has bits and pieces of D'Angelo's memories. Somewhere in that scrambled code they likely have recollections of a teary-eyed Darling laughing through the pain by their friend's bedside.

D.kay logically comes to the conclusion making fun of the human they're basically a copy of is the way into Darling's heart. It's what he would've done, after all-

The thing is D'Angelo knew where to stop the jokes. D.kay doesn't.

Slapping on some additional angst of the sweatshirt D.Kay wears being the same sweatshirt D'Angelo wore- He notices darling rubbing their arms indicating they're cold and wraps it around them while playfully scolding them about going somewhere without one- Prompting Darling to just break down sobbing because that's the first thing the android has done that's exactly what D'Angelo would've done

[yxtubers]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: chris tries to ease your worries as you try to find the perfect outfit

warnings/notes: mentions of insecurity, low self esteem

requested?: yes! number 24 “if only you could see yourself the way i do” and number 18 “can i have one more?” from my prompt list. @rainsoakedphoenix

> > >

Chris was waiting for you downstairs as you scrambled through a big pile of clothes, attempting to find something perfect to wear.

You were all going to dinner to celebrate the release of their new podcast. It was supposedly going to be huge - pretty much all their friends would be there. You haven’t met them all yet, so this was your chance to make a good first impression.

Chris had tried to calm you down countless times but you weren’t having any of it. This needed to be perfect.

Pulling on a pair of jeans you recently bought you moved to look at yourself in the mirror. Something seemed off about it.

When you had tried it on in the dressing room it was flawless, but now you felt lumpy and weird. It hugged you in all the wrong places and you felt like you couldn’t breathe in them.

Huffing, you unbuttoned them at the speed of light and threw them across your room, annoyed.

“Everything okay up there?” came Chris’ voice.

Throwing on a pair of cargos you stared at yourself in the mirror once more. You grew more and more agitated by the second - why did everything look so… weird on you?

You groaned as Chris gently pushed the door open, his head peeking in to see what all the fuss was about. His eyes darted from corner to corner, seeing the mess that you made while trying to look for an outfit. He immediately understood.

“Can’t find anything to wear?” he asked, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

His eyes studied you in the mirror, trailing across your collarbone and hair, admiring the way your legs looked in these pants.

“I can find something to wear - I just look atrocious in all of them!” you said.

You were angry and upset. Even his comforting arms encircling you felt claustrophobic. You never understood what he saw in you - could he not see what you saw in the mirror? How could he stand to look at you? How could his perfect hands ever touch you so gently when you felt like the worst person in existence?

“I think you look good in those,” he responded quietly.

Moving away from him, you go to sit on your floor, continuing your search for something that would make you bearable to look at.

Rooting through the mounds and piles of fabric, your heart began to race. You had gone through almost everything in your closet and still nothing was good enough.

Digging your palms into your eyelids, you tried to push back the onslaught of tears that threatened to break out.

Chris, sensing your discomfort, walked slowly towards you. Sitting next to you, he rubbed your shoulder.

With his other hand he picked up a black top. It was his favorite, he always complimented you when you wore it. In his eyes you were absolutely breathtaking - and he wished he could make you see that.

“Don’t cry,” he coo’d, “How about this one? You know I love when you wear it.”

His attempts at easing your insecurities only made your tears fall faster. You hated yourself for feeling like this. Today was his special day and you were ruining it by being a crybaby.

“I look disgusting,” your voice quivered. Taking your hands away from your face, you looked around once more, desperate to just put something on and go about your day.

Chris rests his fingertips against your jaw, tilting your head towards him.

His own eyes welled with tears. He had never heard you talk about yourself like that - and it hurt. It hurt him to know that someone as amazing as you could ever talk down on yourself. He remembered each moment that his heart fluttered upon seeing your smile, and the heat that pooled in his cheeks whenever you’d wear that one sundress that he liked.

“Don’t say that about my girlfriend,” he said, a sad smile playing on his lips.

Sniffling, you lifted your eyes to meet his.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “If only you could see yourself the way I do. Everything about you is perfect. The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, your adorable laugh when I make a stupid joke. God, even when you cry you look drop-dead gorgeous. Why can’t you understand that?”

Cupping your face in his hand and wiping your tears away, he continued.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and I’m the luckiest guy ever because I get to see this pretty face everyday.”

You nuzzled your head in his palm, finally calming down. Maybe you didn’t feel like the prettiest girl in the world, but Chris sure made you feel like it.

“I’m sorry for ruining everything,” you said.

You’re not fully sure what you even meant, but he seemed to understand.

“You didn’t ruin anything, okay? I’ll always be here for you.”

Throwing the shirt onto the bed, he offered you his hand, lifting you up from the ground.

“Now let’s get you dressed, yeah?” he said, picking the piece of fabric up.

Looking at your disheveled state, his heart broke. Your eyes were red and wet with unshed tears. Your fingers twiddled as you stared at the ground, your embarrassment evident. He wished he could take it all away.

“C’mere,” he said. He wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, massaging the sides with his thumb. Another hand moved to gently tug your waist towards him, careful to not make you uncomfortable.

His lips were against yours in mere seconds.

He tried to pour all his love into the one kiss, hoping and praying that you could feel how much he adored you. Once he pulled away, he noticed the smile growing on your face.

You loved when he kissed you like that. Like you were the only person in the world - like if he let you go, you would disappear.

“There’s that pretty smile!”

Blushing, you buried your head in his chest. He rubbed your back rhythmically, his fingers brushed against your shoulder blades and moved down to the small of your back.

You raised your head to look at him.

“Can I have one more?” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris grinned stupidly at you. He found it so endearing that even after all this time, you were still so shy to ask for affection.

“You can have as many as you’d like.”

And with that, his lips pressed against yours once more. Somehow he was softer this time, his hands grabbing your face to keep you in place. If he could kiss you forever he would.

He brushed his lips across your jaw now, earning a sigh from you.

“Just one more,” he said before adding another peck to the side of your neck.

Moving your hair to the side, he kissed down to your collarbone.

“Mm, one more,” he repeated.

Now moving to the back of your ear, he pressed little silent promises of love across your skin. Nose brushing against your throat, he moved to the other side of your neck.

“One more, baby, I promise.”

As he left open-mouthed kisses across your neck, you felt like a damn goddess. Maybe one day you would be able to see what he sees. Your hums made his heart race as he lifted his lips back to kiss you one last time.

His pupils were dilated as he gave you a goofy smile, his eyes trained straight onto yours. Pushing you to sit on the bed, he helped you pick out your outfit, finally satisfied with the cute little smile you had plastered on your face.

How could you ever think you’re not good enough when he treated you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him?

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0

[thesturniolos]

tiny red dress pt 2

m. sturniolo x reader

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

you can find the part 1 here !!

you’ve been fed sorry it took so long <3

y’all know the warnings, my last one got hidden 😫😫

tags: @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @strawberrysturniolo @sturnsbaby @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @mattslolita @mattsgirlforeva @malsturns @mattsgirlforeva @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @kirby0strombolli @klarasmith @freshlovehacker @sturniolosstar @sturnioloss @mattsturniolos @chrisolivia4l @chrissturniolosbf @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf

his hand wraps around my throat and pushes me against the wall, i gasp slightly from the sudden harsh contact and his piercing dark eyes staring me down.

the car ride had been tense after he’d said that and his hand had made its way in between my thighs, prying them away to stop me from moving them. it never stopped the throb underneath my clothes though.

“you just love to push my buttons, don’t you?” i struggle to find the words, not because of his grip on my neck but because he was so close and the way he looked at me made the ache in my pussy intensify and all i could do was whimper. i was desperate, for anything.

“that’s all you got? that’s pathetic.” he slaps me around the face and grabs my jaw to maintain eye contact, looking at me sympathetically, a facade to make fun of my vulnerable self.

i was like jelly in his hands, i would do anything for him. i didn’t even care about him touching me, making him feel good was enough to send me straight off the edge.

“please, i need you.” i plead and he smiles back at me, shaking his head. his hand on my jaw moves gently across to my lip as he pushes down and opens my mouth, my lips wrap around his thumb sucking slightly.

“yeah? you need me?” he watches as my tongue swirls around his finger and i close my eyes, wishing it was something else. my hips push up from against the wall and i feel his hand wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

i nod and he quickly picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, as he takes me into our bedroom dropping me onto the bed as i stare up at him, my elbows holding me up.

“why are those still on? take them off.” he orders, as he sits on his chair, a little away from me on the bed on my own. he unbuckles his belt and leans back, watching me.”

i nod going to take off my dress but hesitate as i trail the straps down my shoulders. looking up at matt, “but you usually take these off-“

“do you want me to do everything? fucking do it, brat.” i quickly scramble to take off the tiny red dress and heels, kicking them to the floor, leaving me in a matching red set i bought a week prior, hoping this would happen at some point.

i sit patiently on the bed and wait for matt to walk over from his chair and do something, anything. but he doesn’t. he’s leaned back and staring right back at me, belt unbuckled and zipper undone. he looks so unbothered, different to his usual controlling self where he is quick to put his hands all over me.

“show me where you want me.” i slowly trail my hand down to slip it under my red panties, a dark spot especially for matt had formed in the middle. one finger, a single moment of pressure was enough to take my breath away. hours of tension, a knot in my stomach begging to be released.

i rub slowly at first but quickly increase my speed, desperate to finally get what i’ve wanted for what feels like an eternity now. i look up at matt, to see his brows furrowed and his hips bucking up slightly.

in seeing his reaction, i decided to play with him in return for him stopping me in the car and for causing such a scene at the party, he can’t get away with everything.

i throw my head back and groan, my hair falling from my shoulders and my eyes rolling back. i pull my panties aside so he can see my pussy, glistening with my wetness, sliding my fingers up and down.

at the sound of matt’s slight groans, i push a finger inside and pull it in and out at an agonising rate. i wanted an orgasm but it wasn’t the same without his touch, no matter how long it took.

he shakes his head looking down at me, the opening of his jeans revealing his grey boxers that drove me crazy, the pool in my panties becoming more prominent as he stares at me, his hand coming to the straps of my bra as he pulls them down.

it was silent, nothing but my fast breathing and the ring of matt’s keys against the buckle of his belt. he was acting so nonchalant, whilst i squirm with rosy cheeks and a raving heart.

his face was inches away from mine, he stares down at my lips before smashing his against mine, our tongues chasing one another, our breathing becoming desperate laboured.

my hands desperately grab at the hairs at the back of his head, pulling them slightly as his arm grips onto the naked skin of my back and pushes me closer to his clothed body. i groan into the kiss as i feel his raging boner against my pussy.

he flips us over so i’m sitting on top of him and suddenly i feel incredibly exposed, me being nearly naked whilst he has layers on. i break away from the kiss to pull at his shirt in which he grabs the hem and pulls it off in one clean sweep. my hands instinctively dragging against his abs as he winces, the chill of my hands on his burning skin, so much for his calm self.

we connect our lips, once again just as hungrily and the saliva runs from my mouth, down to my chin, onto my chest. i slowly grind my hips on his lap, the heat from my core now becoming increasingly hard to deal with.

“be patient, don’t be a little slut.” i shake my head, looking up, begging for someone- anything- to help me with the throbbing pain in my clit.

“i need you now, matt.” i pry at his jeans, hoping to pull them down to reveal what i really wanted. i didn’t care about the consequences, or the denied orgasms, try and stop me.

“you think you’re the one in charge around here?” he pushes my legs off his lap to push down his jeans and i sigh in relief as i see the huge wet patch on his boxers and his throbbing erection, my eyes lightening up, practically drooling at the sight.

i’m quick to grab onto the hem of his underwear, hoping to pull them down to but he grabs my head, pushing me up as he whips out his cock from his boxers instead of me and without any warning, pushes my head onto his dick, my throat closing around most of it.

my eyes widen, filling with water almost instantly. my gag reflex screaming at me, as i desperately try to pull back. “this is what you asked for. don’t act all pussy now. be a good girl for your daddy.”

and at those words, the saliva dripping from my mouth pools down to the bottom of his dick, his hand still pushing me from the back as i hollow my cheeks and my tongue lays flat against the veins of his cock. i look up to see matt with his head thrown back, only motivating me to go further if it was even possible.

i bounce my head up and down as matt pushes his hips up into my throat, thrusting desperately into me. straggled moans coming from my mouth convert instantly to vibrations which cause matt to open his mouth and practically shout profanities.

“i’m gonna cum- doin’ so good babe.” both his hands supporting me now as he pushes me to bottom out on his cock, filling my whole throat with his huge dick.

seconds later, i gasp for air as he cums straight down my throat, as i swallow it all - not a single drop wasted as i lick it all up.

“such a good girl for me, what a shame you’re not always like this” he pulls me off my knees and raises his head to take one of my nipples into his mouth. i gasp as he sucks and tugs at the bud, i’m scratching at his back desperately now.

“oh fuck- i promise i will be” my eyes rolling back as he trails onto the other one, grabbing and squeezing harshly at my tits, spitting onto them and licking it up.

he flips us over, me being on the bottom. my arms to my sides and my hair spreading across the pillows with his hands next to my head, peering down at me. his tongue slides across his teeth, looking at my body up and down, he looked hungry.

“you know our safe word?” i nod and i know this about to be real good but i’m also scared because he’s so fucking big and sometimes it’s like he doesn’t even realise.

his jeans and boxers are fully off now as are my undergarments, they’re scattered everywhere on the floor. flashes of red, grey and black, lace and cotton, it’s pure desperation.

he connects his lips to my neck and my eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his cold rings against my bare skin and how he sucks on my neck was all so much.

without no warning, no adjusting, he rams into me mercilessly at a rapid pace. my head shooting up instantly, mouth agape and boobs bouncing from the sudden impact.

he’s frowning, looking down to where we’re connected and clearly not satisfied as he thrusts deeper into me, making my whole body slide up the bed, my hands scrambling to find anything to grip onto.

the knot in my stomach is so loose and i’m ready to cum but i’m not ready to give up what ever this is because it’s overwhelmingly good.

women dream for this, this kind of treatment, the popping veins and the length matt keeps hidden his pants. it was times like this that made me go wild for him, how our skin slaps together and how his bulge was visible in my stomach.

“open your mouth.” he somehow manages to utter whilst pounding me relentlessly, no change in pace or rhythm- the man knows what he’s doing. i do as he says and he spits into my mouth. i feel it drip to the back of my throat and instinctively i swallow, making him grin and fasten his thrusts, if that was even possible.

sweat dripped from both our foreheads and it didn’t take long before i was begging for his blessing to let go, it was like a ball of fire in my stomach, like a volcano waiting for one singular rock to tip it right over the edge.

except i had no control of when i was gonna explode and the pit in my stomach released without no warning, a stream of liquid spraying from my pussy, all over matt and the sheets. my head was thrown back onto the pillow as far as it fucking could go and the moans that had been suppressed for so long could be heard from down the end of the street.

matt stared in awe at me as he kept on with his thrusts, catching up to his high which didn’t take long before he shot his huge load into me, painting my walls the most innocent white.

my chest rose up and down, desperate to catch my breath as i look down to see the mess i caused.

“jesus christ, you fucking squirted baby.” i was too tired to even think about what i’d done but i did know it made matt very happy and that was enough for me.

i was too sensitive to even clean myself up, my legs not letting me move one inch. we only went one round but that was enough to limit me to only the bed for a few days, the agonising wait is to blame for that.

“from now on, that dress is used for the bedroom and the bedroom only.”

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 7/?

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: suggestive, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

A/N: please bare with Azriel and the reader. They’re both stupid and have deep-rooted problems.

Azriel burst through his shadows and startled his family who were sitting by the campfire. They stopped their tasks to watch Azriel swiftly walk by them with clenched fists. He acknowledged no one as he entered his tent. Feyre and Mor looked at Rhysand and Cassian to see if they knew anything, but they shrugged. Giving him a few minutes to simmer down, Rhysand and Cassian make their way to Azriel’s tent to find him lying on his cot staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes of pestering, Cassian finally got Azriel to tell them about his frustrations toward your obliviousness to the bond.

Rhysand puts a comforting hand on Azriel's shoulder. “I know how you feel Az, I truly do. All you can do is be patient. She didn’t reject the bond, she doesn’t even know it exists,” said Rhysand. “Think about it, she just started getting to know you. It’s normal for her to assume you are inviting her as a friend.”

“I’m worried that the bond hasn’t snapped because she doesn’t like me,” admitted Azriel.

“That’s ridiculous,” exclaimed Rhysand. “Just give it time and everything will fall into place.”

Azriel shook his head. “We don’t have time,” he snapped. “I don’t know if we’ll survive this, and I can’t die knowing I never told my mate. I’m beginning to think keeping this from her isn’t a clever idea,” said Azriel as he pressed his palms over his eyes.

Cassian had avoided thinking about the possibility that his friends wouldn’t make it alive, their stories ceasing to exist beyond this war. It’s a miracle they’ve lived this long, and he was beginning to think that this was it. He couldn’t blame his brother for feeling desperate, Azriel found his mate and had no idea if they had any time together.

Cassian chewed the inside of his lips as he weighed Azriel’s options. “You told us she has some issues with relationships, right? I’m not going to tell you what to do but do you think it’ll do more good than bad? She might freak out and we need her full concentration, Az.”

Azriel sighed deeply and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his whole body slumped forward. “You’re right.” The conversation in the Palace’s courtyard was still fresh in his head. He’d never met anyone so passionate and anti-relationship in his life.

He said nothing more as his shadows swarmed him. Rhysand and Cassian patiently waited for him to elaborate but they knew better, Azriel wasn’t going to say a word and would just sit there and ruminate in his thoughts. Once left alone, Azriel laid back down and stared at the ceiling. He could feel his chest tightening, the golden cord desperately reaching for its nonexistent other half.

Of course, my mate doesn’t want me. How foolish of me to think that the second-in-command of Dawn Court would give me, an Illyrian bastard, a chance, thought Azriel.

***

Hybern was moving fast, they had reached the border of the Winter Court and those who could winnow were scrambling to transfer the troops to the correct location. While the camps were being set up, the High Lords sent you on a reconnaissance mission. You were the fastest of the Peregryns and could glamour yourself to avoid detection. When you were airborne, you took notice of a shadow that was struggling to keep up with you. Rolling your eyes, you hold your hand out allowing the wisp to latch on and wrap around your fingers.

“Tell the shadowsinger that he needs to start trusting me to report accurate information,” you whispered to the shadow.

It chittered back but of course; you couldn’t understand it. Little did you know Azriel sent his shadows to alert him of any sign of trouble. With one whisper of danger from his shadows, Azriel would drop everything to find you.

After a couple of hours of scouting and traveling as fast as you could, you arrived at the main war tent to report to the High Lords and their military commanders. Sweating profusely, you dumped your helmet on the floor as Callon handed you a cold drink of water. The shadow that was curled around your hand skittered back to Azriel who stood in the corner of the room. Thesan, Rhysand, Tarquin, Helion, and Kalias patiently waited for you to catch your breath as you plopped onto a chair.

“I’m not going to lie, boys,” you said solemnly. Azriel held back a chuckle, only you would get away with calling the High Lords ‘boys.’ Except for Thesan, the other High Lords were secretly afraid of you. “What I saw was disheartening, the army was twice the size of the first battle. I tried looking to see if more ships were arriving by sea, but I saw no movement as far as I could see. It’s a possibility they glamoured their ships so I don’t know for sure.”

There were so many things to prepare for and you were constantly moving around the tent strategizing over the war table’s scale map of the battlefield. Despite being busy all day, so much of your attention was spent keeping track of Azriel’s whereabouts. You always wanted him in your line of sight, it was easy to evade him that way. Despite your diligence, it was hard to truly avoid him, especially after you realized that whenever his gaze landed on you, it felt like a cool breeze caressed your skin.

The last interaction you had with Azriel at the healer's tent was so intimate that it terrified you. You remember reveling in his presence and you hated that you were still thinking about it. Then there was the possibility of Azriel asking you out on a date. You were curious to know if that was what he meant or if your paranoia of someone getting close to you was affecting how you viewed his intentions.

Once battle strategizing was done, you allowed yourself to look over at Azriel who was talking to Cassian. You had to admit he looked incredibly handsome in his Illyrian leathers that it was tempting enough to go and talk to him. Before the Shadowsinger had the chance to make eye contact and weaken your resolve, you grabbed Thesan and Callon and winnowed them to the Dawn Court camp. The two males looked at your retreating form in shock, the force of your power making you winnow so fast, it gave them whiplash. They watched you enter your private tent and gave each other concerned looks.

Lounging in bed, you rubbed your chest hoping to get rid of this tight feeling, but it never prevailed. It was one of the reasons why you were so tired after your mission, the whole time you felt constricted even though there was nothing physically wrong with you. It was anxiety but you couldn’t pinpoint what was causing it. Was it about the upcoming battle? Your family's safety? The court's safety? Whatever it was, you hoped it would go away soon.

***

The cool crisp air drifting from the Winter Court felt like a blessing as it dried your warm and clammy skin. From the sky, the battlefield looked even more chaotic in comparison to what you saw on the ground. The Prythian troops were getting slightly overwhelmed, which prompted Thesan to signal that now was a suitable time to use your ‘venom’. Breathing hard and rubbing your chest, you force yourself to concentrate and harness your power. With enough of your golden energy gathered at the palm of your hands, you send a burst of magic to the Hybern soldiers.

Moments later, about two hundred soldiers dropped to their knees as they coughed up blood and keeled over. Some were screaming in pain and others just dropped dead. You tried to muster more magic, but it sputtered and only reached a couple dozen Hybern soldiers before noticing your magic reserves had run dry. The soldiers you killed allowed a few moments rest for Prythian, but it wasn’t enough, everyone was back to fighting. Joining the soldiers on the ground, you felt your cheeks redden knowing you barely made a dent against the enemy. The Courts desperately needed the upper hand, and you couldn’t give it to them.

Using your embarrassment as fuel, you moved swiftly and cut through the Hybern soldiers. Caked in dirt, blood, and sweat, the Prythians slowly moved forward as the scale tipped in your nation’s favor. At one point, you, Wyla, and Azriel formed a trio that worked well together quickly taking down the enemy. A day ago, you were avoiding the male, but you couldn’t afford to think like that. In battle, all of that was irrelevant, it was either kill or be killed.

It was mesmerizing watching Azriel fight, he was like an impenetrable wall with his sword and dagger. Even his shadows worked in tandem with him, they watched his back and were weapons themselves. You had forgotten his shadows were weapons too, those same wisps that once gently wrapped around your hands were now striking for the kill.

All was going well until you watched a Hybern commander cut Cassian from his navel to sternum. With your eyes wide open, a scream escaped your lips as your death and poison rolled off your fingers. With precision, you directed your magic to every single Hybern soldier within ten feet of Cassian. They dropped dead within seconds. With a beat of your wings, you were the first person to reach the General, your glowing hands the only thing keeping his organs inside.

“Shit!” you roared, laying Cassian on the ground. “Stay with me Cassian!” He was screaming in pain and there wasn’t much you could do but keep your glowing hands on him. If you let go, he was going to die.

His skin was stitching too slowly, and he was losing too much blood, you willed more healing magic toward his abdomen, but you were too tired. He was going to need a well-rested healer or Thesan, but he was still fighting. In seconds, you decided that you had to save your new friend. You winnowed the both of you to the joint Dawn and Night Court's healing tent, your abrupt arrival made them jump in surprise. They helped you place a too-pale Cassian on a cot and immediately began to help you heal.

Quickly wiping your bloody hands with a cloth, you efficiently ordered the team of Night and Dawn healers. “I want one of you to focus your magic on stopping his bleeding, someone to clean the impurities that got into his body, and I want another healer to start stitching the skin on the sternum. I will focus on the arrangement of the organs and begin reconnecting the abdominal muscles. Please and thank you.”

The Night Court healers knew who you were, word had spread that the Dawn healer they learned from decades ago was the 2nd in command and Golden Warrior. Most healers in Prythian learned what they knew from the schools in Dawn Court, and under the guise of a normal Dawn Court citizen, you were able to work and teach healers from all over Prythian. After careful and fast work, you were able to reconnect the abdominal muscles which meant the worst part had finally passed. His body would have to finish the rest of the healing but with the work you did, he was going to survive.

Cassian was only asleep due to a strong painkilling potion, but you could tell the pain was still there because his brows were furrowed. You and a healer named Madja were stitching his skin together when Azriel and Rhysand winnowed into the tent. You lifted a quizzical brow at Rhysand, and he verbally confirmed that the battle was over, and Thesan was safe. Rhysand stood over Cassian, his features a combination of concern and fury. From what you could gather from his and Azriel’s conversation, Cassian had disobeyed a direct order from his High Lord, and it resulted in today’s injury.

After you and a healer named Madja finished stitching to the best of your abilities, you sagged against the wall in complete exhaustion. Healing Cassian took all your remaining energy. Azriel rushed to your side and helped you sit on a cot. He felt how drained you were and drew you close to lean your body against his. You were so tired it didn’t even cross your mind how intimate this gesture was.

Rhysand and Azriel profusely thanked you for all you’ve done for their brother. Feyre and Mor rushed into the tent and the blonde made a beeline toward you. She wrapped you in a big hug and blubbered her ‘thank yous’ before making her way to Cassian.

Azriel was looking at you with his eyes wide open and his pupils blown out. He was so impressed he couldn’t believe you were his mate. Without you, he would have lost his brother and that alone made him forever indebted to you. He felt good now that you were safely by his side, the feeling of your weight against him made his heart flutter.

You cast your magic over Cassian one last time and nodded in approval. “He’s going to be fine, a few days rest and he’ll be back to normal. Make sure he takes it easy.”

Realizing how close you were to Azriel, you sat up and leaned away from his warm body. You stomped down the feeling of comfort you were getting from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t give him a chance.

Azriel’s cheeks burned as he watched your mud-stained wings grow smaller as you briskly walked away. He was glad that his family was occupied with Cassian to take notice of him. He could tell you were avoiding him, and that very idea made him feel like shit. He knew he pushed too far by inviting you to Velaris, he should’ve listened to that little voice inside his head that told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

Turning his attention back to Cassian, he inspected the work you’ve done. He listened to Madja as she spoke to Feyre and Rhys. Madja was Rhysand’s most trusted healer and to hear her speak about you in such high regard made his chest swell. His shadows whispered their approval as they danced around him. He just wished he knew what you were thinking.

***

With your skin scrubbed clean and a fresh set of clothes, you walked into the main war tent with confidence. The icy blonde heads of the Winter Court swiveled in your direction, Kallias gave a nod to Thesan as Viviane waved you over to the chair next to her. The two of you were chatting about what type of potions you use for clear skin when you found out that Kallias had banned his wife from fighting.

Leaning forward dramatically, you glared at the High Lord of Winter. After semi-hostile banter and input from the other courts arriving, you helped convince Kallias to let Viviane fight in the next battle. You and Viviane were giggling about Kallias’s pout when you felt a cool caress on the scarred side of your face. You turned to see Azriel’s earnest eyes on you as Night Court filed into the tent.

Captivated, you keep eye contact before you see Viviane bristle in the corner of your eye. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and fascination, following her gaze you saw someone you’ve only heard about.

Amren. Rhysand’s 2nd in command.

You could feel her power now that you noticed her presence. Her sharp eyes fleet across the room as she nods to everyone in her presence. The only thing you know about her is that she was thousands of years old and extremely powerful. Thesan and Rhysand waved you over to officially meet her and you could understand why everyone in the room stiffened when she came in, Amren was terrifying. Her stature was one of the shortest in the room and yet, she had this menacing aura around her.

Her silver eyes scanned you from head to toe and then looked curiously over to your wings. Everyone held their breath as they watched two powerful beings size each other up. Amren flashed her perfect teeth and grinned at you wickedly. She grasped your hand in a hold that you assumed was a custom way of greeting in whatever world she came from. She told you she was excited to work with you in the future.

The meeting finally started, and the High Lords and Generals discussed any advantages we could have. The court’s scouts were reporting that the next fight was most likely the last battle. Hybern’s forces increasingly grew as more ships transported them from their island. They were also moving into human territories, which posed another problem. The odds against Prythian’s armies and Hybern’s forces were looking grim.

While discussing Spring and Autumn Court’s participation, High Lord Helion pointed out that he could tell you were not reaching your full potential. He criticized Thesan for keeping you hidden away for all these years when you could have been trained to do bigger things. This pissed Thesan off, his teeth gritted as he tells Helion he had his reasons, but Helion was having none of it.

“Maybe that’s the extent of her power,” interjected Kallias. “She may be a great warrior but there could be a chance she’s not as powerful as we think. I think we’re putting too much pressure on someone who just can’t perform.”

Viviane grimaced as she looked at you for a reaction. Sometimes she couldn’t believe her husband didn’t get in any more fights with the way he talked and presented himself.

“There's no way in Hel her little display in yesterday’s battle is all she could do,” pressed Helion. “Do you not feel her power? I choke on it every time she walks into the room. She’s just untrained, that’s all.”

You cringed as the other High Lords and their entourage agreed. Feeling embarrassed, you reigned in your power and stored it in the sapphire necklace that appears on your neck. It was humiliating to hear them agree that you could do much more… save more Prythian lives if you were strong enough. Your heart started to pound, you wanted to defend yourself, but they were right.

Azriel could feel the anguish under your calm demeanor, he wished he could bash the heads of everyone who was speaking ill of you. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he let a shadow discreetly curl around your ankle. Even if it was a small gesture, he had to do something to show his support.

The moment you felt the cool wisp touch your skin, you knew who and what it was. The burning anger in your chest slowed as you held the gaze of the Shadowsinger. You give him a discreet nod and he responds with the smallest quirk of his lips. To your surprise, another gesture of comfort came from Tarquin who sat on your other side. He placed a large reassuring hand on your thigh and kept it there, it was affectionate, and bewilderingly, you didn’t swat him away.

Tired of all the bullshit the males were spewing, Amren piped in as she picked on her red nails. “You choke on it because you’re all too weak to handle it,” she said coolly. “Don’t worry about our angel of death, she will be powerful enough when the time comes.”

You're not sure whether it was because everyone was afraid of Amren or because of the finality in her tone, but the topic thankfully changed. Her support was appreciated but you have no idea why she was confident in you. With a shadow still wrapped around your ankle, you sat and contemplated how you could reach your full potential.

***

The next few days were spent doing everything you and Thesan could think would help you harness control of your power. The problem wasn’t the stamina of your magic, for 12 hours straight you were doing extensive protective magic around the camps and your magic never faltered. After many theories were evaluated, it all boiled down to either a mental block or something the Mother or Cauldron intended. Thesan had ordered you to relax as much as you could but that was a ridiculous request. An attack on the camps could happen at any moment and it was impossible to relax when that was a possibility.

You had just spent the last 8 hours back in Dawn Court checking the magical shields in the borders and doing research with the priestesses. You invited them to your private library, and you all scoured the books for any information on how to develop your magic. No one found any new information on how to boost your powers, but the priestesses did stumble on something that could be useful. There was a death god named Achlys from thousands of years ago who could poison people like you. The ancient tome didn’t have much information, but Achlys was noted to have developed their magic and had become incredibly powerful. The priestess made a point that in theory, you should be able to cultivate your powers to grow stronger and do things you never imagined.

The head priestess, Irabel, revisited one of Thesan’s theories about your problem being connected to the Cauldron or the Mother. After some prayer, meditation, and focusing on your aura, she believed you were having problems because you were not “whole”. She said she sensed that there was a missing piece in your soul. You blinked at her as if she had two heads. You were more than a hundred years old; you would have noticed if a piece of your soul was missing.

She shook her head, “You may feel perfectly fine because you’ve never felt your soul completely intact.”

“Prythian is at war, and we desperately need every advantage. How do I find the missing piece?” you asked urgently. “I need to find the other piece.”

Irabel looks at you with a fond smile. “My lady, I think the Mother may be implying that you are blessed with a mate. I suspect that you won’t have full capacity of your powers until you are mated.”

Your ears started to ring. No fucking way. This was the last thing you wanted.

“W-what?” you stammered. This may be one of the worst news you’ve ever received. “High Priestess… a mate… the bond… that’s not an option for me.”

“This is all theory, but you do seem to be glowing brighter since the last time I saw you which was before Thesan came back from Under the Mountain. Maybe you’ve met your mate since then. Has there been someone you’ve met and had a connection with?”

Your mind drew a blank until a certain male with rich brown skin and turquoise eyes popped up. Tarquin. It had to be the High Lord of Summer; you should have suspected since you two became easy friends. Until Tarquin, you’ve never slept with the same male twice. Hot panic flooded your bloodstream, you couldn’t believe your worst fears were coming true.

“There’s not enough time for a mating bond,” you diverted. You were going to spare the High Priestess from your slander against something as sacred as a mate bond. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you looked at Irabel fiercely. “Please, there must be a way to be stronger by the time the battle arrives.”

She rested her chin on her steepled fingers. “We mustn't forget the power of sheer will. This may not be the answer you were looking for, but it may be your best chance.”

Once you said goodbye to the priestesses and received word they were safely back in their temple, you winnowed to the war camps. You trudged to Thesan’s tent where you ranted about the discoveries to your cousin and Callon. Thesan kept note to do further research on the god named Achlys, but Callon was far more concerned about finding out who your mate was. At first, you weren’t going to tell them who you thought it was but Thesan and Callon were persuasive. Thesan promised you an exceedingly long vacation if you told them, so you did.

The shock on both their faces was almost worth the agony of knowing you might have a mate and it was probably Tarquin. Thesan didn’t say a word as he looked at you quizzically. Callon on the other hand could barely contain his excitement. He knew you never wanted to be in a relationship, but he couldn’t help but feel joyous for you.

You weren’t on a battlefield today but the level of exhaustion you were feeling felt like you’d participated in one. The weight to perform in the final battle sat heavily on your shoulders and all this nonsense about a mate made things worse.

Saying goodnight, you walked to your tent warily looking around hoping a certain High Lord wasn’t popping by for a visit. You had no idea if you could even look at Tarquin now that you knew what you knew. You scrutinized every interaction you had with him and the more you did that, the more you were convinced he might be your mate. Despite everything, the mating bond must not have snapped because you felt nothing, and you were grateful for that. It would be difficult to avoid Tarquin forever, so you vowed to never touch him again to avoid the snap.

Irritation crawled up your neck at the thought of the High Lord of Summer. In an attempt to forget about him, you submerged yourself in the hot bath water. After washing up and getting dressed, you were so tired that you only bothered to wear underwear and a long tunic that stopped mid-thigh.

Flopping into bed, sleep quickly took over as vivid dreams enveloped your mind. It was a strange dream, nothing was making sense, but you felt like you were being chased, the sounds of howling behind you. The rest of the dream was muddled, the only thing you could clearly see was a scene of Azriel only wearing his Illyrian leather pants. He was leaning forward like he was in pain; blood was dripping from his torso and wings. The rest of the dream was bland, you were just about to peacefully doze in dark bliss when a heavy hand shook your shoulder.

“Quick! Get up, it’s the Shadowsinger!” said Callon urgently. “He needs a healer.”

You rolled out of bed and sprung onto your feet at the mention of Azriel. “What’s happening? Did Hybern attack the camps?” you asked, frantically looking around the tent.

Callon shook his head. “Something happened with the Night Court. Rhysand winnowed in Azriel and requested you since you know more about wings. It’s bad.”

The graveness of Callon’s voice made you make a beeline toward the exit only stopping to tug boots onto your feet. It was past midnight, and the only bright light was coming from the healer's tent. You strode in and the first thing you saw was Azriel who was bickering with Rhysand who was trying to get his brother to sit down and relax.

A gasp escaped your lips as you saw the injuries inflicted on Azriel’s body. There he was- shirtless and roughed up just like the scene from your dream. There were slow healing cuts everywhere and parts of his wings were ripped to shreds. Your eyes roamed over the expanse of his tattooed chest, he was still glistening in sweat, and it made the black swirls that decorated his skin pop out.

Their eyes snapped at you, Azriel’s eyes widened and then his body went slack as he sunk onto a cot. The sudden movement made the claw marks bleed more. Thesan who was assessing the damage looked up and sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness you’re here! He was shot by a faebane arrow and Nuan’s anti-faebane compound can only do so much. It’s affecting both of our healing abilities, and his wings aren’t looking too good,” said Thesan. “Do you think you can extract the poison?”

You stepped closer and peered at his lacerations. You could smell the sharp scent of faebane from the arrow wound on his shoulder. This was something you’d never done before but you could try.

Sitting next to Azriel, you hovered a glowing hand over a wound and you felt the strange resistance of faebane. You grasped his shoulder and Azriel winced at your touch.

“How bad does it hurt?” you asked.

Azriel rolled his neck trying to ignore the burning pain. “The arrow puncture doesn’t hurt much, it’s my wings I’m worried about,” said Azriel.

You sucked in a breath as you glanced at his wings. They were going to need extensive work and it was going to be extremely painful for him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said as you started the process of concentrating energy onto your fingers. “How are you feeling right now?”

“I feel better now that you’re here,” said Azriel honestly.

Rhysand’s eyes widened as Thesan and Callon shot each other looks. Your mouth curved into a smile as Azriel sputtered.

“You know- I feel better because you’re a master healer with wings,” said Azriel. “I’m in good hands.”

“Of course,” you said taking hold of his shoulder once more.

Azriel wanted to disappear into his shadows. He couldn’t believe he said that in front of everyone.

Closing your eyes, you breathed deeply as the magic concentrated in your hand. Instead of willing the poison to be released from you, you pressed your fingertips onto his skin as you tried to will the faebane out of the wound.

“I am death and poison,” you whispered, barely audible. Golden tendrils from your hand are absorbed into his skin. “Like calls to like. Come to me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened as he felt the strange sensation of your magic, it stung but your proximity was enough distraction. He let your presence calm his mind as he watched your magic in awe. Azriel moved his gaze to see your face slightly scrunched in concentration, the scar on the side contorting as your eyes crinkled. From the beginning, he was always attracted to you but the more time he spent with you, he found your beauty to be always flourishing.

Ever so slowly, you retract your fingers, and the tendrils had latched onto blood that was poisoned by faebane. Carefully, you pulled out all the faebane you could detect in Azriel’s system. Rhysand, Thesan, and Callon watched in wonder as they had never seen anything like this. Once you were finished and had a mass of Azriel’s poisoned blood properly disposed of in some pocket realm, they exploded into excited chatter.

While you appreciated their appreciation, there was still much to be done and they were far too distracting.

“Boys!” you snapped. “I may have gotten the poison out, but we are not out of the woods yet. Either shut up and let me work in silence or get out of the tent!”

Azriel chuckled as he watched his brother, Dawn’s High Lord, and a strong warrior shuffle out of the tent. He loved the idea that his mate had the power to make the High Lords do what you wanted. Granted it was your cousin and Rhysand, but it still meant that his mate was powerful, and he was beginning to adore that about you.

With no distractions, you were able to carefully work on Azriel’s wounds. To distract him from the pain, you asked him what happened. He explained that Hybern had taken Feyre’s sister Elain and that he and the High Lady went on a mission to retrieve her. He ended up having to carry Elain and a human girl while under attack. You gaped at him as you thought of the sheer strength it must have taken to do that. It explained the feminine scents that lingered on his skin you noticed earlier.

The scents weren’t the only thing you noticed. The black swirled tattoos that covered his chest and arms were so beautiful, you had to keep refocusing your attention. The swirls were mesmerizing, they reminded you of his shadows and you couldn’t stop looking. The black ink curved against the muscles under his skin, you had never gotten over how muscular this male was.

Once the wounds on his torso were taken care of, you moved to sit behind him so you could start mending his severely injured wings. Well aware Illyrian wings were sensitive, you wanted to survey what you had to work with before you touched him. Callon wasn’t lying when he said the wings were bad, they were wrecked, and you had no idea if they would heal in time for the big battle. With how tense Azriel was, you were sure the male was putting on a strong façade because if your wings looked like this, you’d be in agony.

“Azriel, I'm going to need to touch your wings to heal you,” you said. “Do I have permission?”

Azriel suddenly felt a little light-headed, he wasn’t sure if was from blood loss or the anticipation of you near his wings again. He nodded and sucked in a breath when he felt your warm hands poke and prod his wings as you examined him. He was glad he was in pain, otherwise, he didn’t think he’d be able to resist you.

“How do they look? Will I fly again?” said Azriel. He was so caught up in your presence that he had almost forgotten why he was in a healer's tent.

“I’m not going to lie,” you said softly “It doesn’t look good, but I haven’t started yet, my answer could change when we’re done.”

He turned to look at you and your heart plunged a little. He looked scared and vulnerable, the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a warrior be. You don’t blame him, the idea of losing the freedom to fly was something you could understand.

“You should know it’s going to be painful, pain like you’ve never felt before,” you warned. “I’m going to do my best, but you’ll have to bear with me.”

“I trust you,” said Azriel.

It was strange to hear that coming from his own tongue. He had never trusted anyone this quickly, but he knew who you were to him. Despite the knowledge that you were his mate, his gut could tell that he could trust you with his life.

He said it with such conviction, that a gentle smile graced your lips.

“Thank you, Azriel. Good to know I have it,” you said. Clearing your throat, you place your hands on his shoulders and make him turn around again. “I want you to talk to me, tell me anything that’ll get your mind off the pain.”

He nodded and then the slow and excruciating process began. He felt every tug and magical stitch and it sent him rambling more about the mission and how he had to escape Hybern while carrying an Archeron sister and a human girl. You carefully worked and listened intently, his deep voice letting you slip into an ultra-concentrated trance. It was broken when you hit a nerve which sent Azriel gripping the cot and letting out a strained yelp. You apologized and let him gather himself before leaning down to continue healing.

“What was your childhood like?” you asked, trying to distract him.

Azriel’s shadows began to swarm around him, protective of their master. He wordlessly told them that it was alright, so they calmed.

“My childhood was… difficult,” replied Azriel. “You know, I’m no stranger to pain. It’s all I’ve felt my entire life.”

Your fingers froze over his wings, was he going to talk about the scars on his hands?

Letting out a shaky breath, you replied. “Oh?”

Blinking, you continued to heal while doing your best to calm your heartbeat. A part of you was eager to find out if you did have dreams about Azriel being locked in a cellar. A larger part of your subconscious was scared to find out because it would mean there was a deeper connection between the two of you. Even when you weren’t thinking about it, your heart was always protecting you.

Azriel glanced down at his clenched fists. Those scarred hands that he hated so much. He decided not to tell you what really happened to him, he didn’t want to scare you away with his childhood trauma. So instead, he resorted to deflecting which he was an expert at.

“Enough about me, I want to know what’s troubling you,” said Azriel as he smirked and looked back at you.

You raised a brow. “What makes you think something is troubling me?

“First of all, your energy is practically suffocating me at this moment and the second reason is you’re not wearing any pants. You’re Thesan’s 2nd, you would never step out in public looking informal.”

Jerking back in surprise, you looked down to see that he was right. You were only wearing a tunic and boots, your bare skin brushing against his waistband and back. Hyper-aware of how close you were to Azriel, you moved backward as heat rushed to your cheeks.

“I apologize for my appearance; I was in such a rush I didn’t realize I only had my tunic on!”

Azriel shrugged nonchalantly, the movement making him grimace in pain.

“It’s alright. I appreciate the urgency,” said Azriel.

You continued your delicate work on his wings while making sure there was enough distance between the two of you.

“You didn’t answer my first question. What’s gotten you so distracted you forgot to put pants on?” asked Azriel. “Is it the upcoming battle?”

Chewing the inside of your lip, you contemplated whether you should say anything. This was an incredibly personal topic but the weight it had on your shoulders was intense, you needed to talk about it. Choosing your words carefully, you make sure you don’t reveal too much.

“I was recently told that to be more powerful, I would have to find the other half of my soul…” you said quietly. “When I was searching for answers, that was the last thing I wanted to hear.”

Is she talking about the mate bond? Does she know about our bond? thought Azriel.

His heart started to pound as he tried to form the proper words in his head. Azriel stammered, “Uh- when you say your other half, do you mean—"

“The oh-so-sacred mate bond?” you interrupted; your voice laced with dismay.

Azriel felt the blood drain from his face, you sounded scared. “You told me you didn’t like relationships, but I didn’t think it extended to the mating bond.”

You sighed as you focused on healing a tendon in his wing. “I told you I have complicated feelings about love. What’s troubling me is I think I may have met my mate and I know who it is.”

“Oh?” said Azriel shakily. “Who do you think it is?”

“Before I say anything, you need to promise you won’t speak a word about this to anyone else. If you break my trust, I swear I’ll make sure you shit and vomit for an entire day. It’ll be the worst day of your life.”

Azriel hastily agreed. He wanted to laugh but the suspense was overpowering everything.

“Well, I don’t know for sure, but the High Priestess suspects I have a mate, and if her theory is right…. I think it’s someone I've recently slept with,” you admitted.

Jealousy ignited within the shadowsinger as he turned to look at you. You protested his sudden movement and his wings and muscles screamed at him, but Azriel couldn’t care less. He felt his blood boil as he thought of another male touching you. It took everything in him not to demand who your lover was, you had every right to sleep with anyone you wanted and Azriel had to live with that.

“What are you going to do about it?” asked Azriel lowly. His head was spinning, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear your answer.

You looked down in shame, were you going to tell Azriel how you planned to never talk to Tarquin again? The entire idea was ridiculous, but you were going to do anything to make sure that bond would never snap between the both of you. Slowly, you looked up to see Azriel’s exhausted features but despite everything he’d been through today, his gaze was sharp and calculating. There was a tinge of vulnerability in his hazel eyes, you weren’t sure why but that was enough to convince you to be honest.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you looked down at your still-glowing hands. “I don’t know… ignore him forever? All I know is I’m terrified.”

“I don’t understand, what’s so scary about it?”

“Something as strong as the mate bond makes you so vulnerable and weak. I’ve seen what it’s done to my parents and other couples, the bond is a weakness and I refuse to let it distract me,” you admitted. “It doesn’t even have to be a mate bond, love itself is a corruption.”

Azriel was speechless as he tried to come up with something to say. He had never met anyone like you, and it made his heart twist knowing that his mate thought like this. In his silence, you gently urged him to turn around so you could continue to heal him. You were almost done stitching his wings when he finally spoke.

“What happened to you?” he asked, he didn’t bother hiding the sadness and confusion in his voice. “What happened to make you think like this?”

You thought about telling him about your parents, but you stopped yourself, it was too difficult and too personal to talk about. Instead, you let your hand's repetitive movements lull you into a memory.

“25 years ago, I was out on patrol with two Peregryns who were spouses. A creature was wreaking havoc on a town and at the time, we didn’t know it was a Puca.”

Azriel breathed sharply, he already knew it was going to be a horrible end.

“At one point, we were all separated and the Puca lured the wife pretending to be her injured husband. It was too late when we noticed, I didn’t even hear her yell…it was her blood that I smelt first. Her husband and I killed the Puca but the scream he let out when he saw her body—I can still hear it sometimes,” you said thickly. “We would check on him occasionally, but he was never the same. He was a shell of a male; it was only when the curse broke that I saw him walking around the city and even then, he looked ghastly and bleak.”

No one spoke after that, just the quiet shuffling of your hands moving and you and Azriel’s heartbeats. You wondered what Azriel was thinking, he probably lost all respect for you once he heard your opinions on something so sacred. Casting your magic over his wings and other injuries, you concluded that you did everything possible and that only time would heal the rest of his wounds.

Mindful you were going to face him after your haphazard explanation of why you don’t want a mate, you gathered your courage to reveal the bad news. Moving to sit on the cot across from Azriel, you explained to him that he was going to need at least 2 weeks of complete rest. It took him a second but when it dawned on him that he wouldn’t be able to participate in the big battle, he slumped forward and covered his face with his hands.

You looked at him in shock, you expected him to argue and fight against your orders, but he just sat there and breathed heavily. While you were concerned for the shadowsinger, Azriel was holding back hysterical laughter and roars of frustration. He wasn’t angry at you; he was furious at the world for all the hardships they’d thrown at him.

His own mate was so frightened and resistant of the mate bond, that you had deluded yourself into thinking another male was your mate. If only you knew who you were talking to, thought Azriel, you’d have a heart attack. He also cursed the universe for his injuries. How could he keep still while you and his family were fighting for their country? Azriel thought he was going to snap until he felt you place a hand on his knee.

“Azriel? I’m so sorry, I know how much you want to fight but your wings won’t last,” you said gently. “If you try to fly too soon, you’ll have irreparable damage on your wings.”

Collecting his thoughts, it took him a while to respond. “What if I don’t fly? Can’t I stay on the ground and fight there?” asked Azriel.

You looked at the beautiful, battered male in front of you. The healing you and Thesan could only do so much once faebane had affected it. You were able to remove the poison from his blood, but the damage was already done.

Shaking your head, you squeezed his knee in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m sorry, baby bat. I wouldn’t risk it if you want to fly again, I’ll make sure Rhysand gets briefed, so you don’t try to undermine my orders.”

He chuckled and a smile made its way to your lips at the rich sound. The both of you sat in silence once more, listening to the nocturnal animals make their faint sounds around the war camp.

“I think I understand you better now,” said Azriel, his voice slicing through the air. “You’re not scared of love or relationships. You shut yourself out because you’re scared of losing people. You’re scared of how much it’ll hurt once someone you genuinely love disappears from your life.”  

Your jaw dropped as you blinked at him. No one had ever spoken to you that bluntly, let alone try to analyze your character like that and you did not like it. He was wrong but something about his words rang true. It almost seemed like Azriel was trying to make you feel bad for feeling like that, but it only did the opposite.

Memories of your parent's abandonment flooded your mind, and you blinked back tears. You were going to make sure that bond would never snap between you and Tarquin.

You would do anything.

“I don’t think you understood my story,” you chided, leaning closer to Azriel. “I don’t want a mate or a lover because I don’t want to be weak.”

Azriel raised a brow, he didn’t think you’d be this hard-headed. “Love doesn’t make you weak, little dove. Ignorance does.”

“It’s not ignorance, it’s awareness,” you quipped back. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you haven’t been worried sick about Morrigan in the last two battles. You took your eye off the enemy, Azriel, that sounds like vulnerability to me.”

Azriel couldn’t believe you mentioned Morrigan. He wished he could tell that it was you who he was always checking on, but he couldn’t do that. He wished he could tell you that a mate is what he’s been waiting for all his life.

The world felt eerily still as you and Azriel gravitated closer to each other, both of you desperate for the other individual to see their point. Azriel’s burning gaze took in the beauty of his irrational mate. If only you knew the whole truth, you’d be swallowing your words. With your faces inches apart, your eyes hovered over his lips and something within wanted to press your lips against his… to do anything to forget the High Lord of Summer.

Slowly, the scent of the disinfectants and potions in the tent dispersed into the nether. The only thing you could smell was the pleasant waft of cedarwood and the chilled mist of night. Your gaze flickered to his hazel eyes and suddenly, all thoughts of formality, consequence, and reason flew out the window.

“Can I kiss you?”

Azriel sharply inhaled. Did he just hear you correctly? He thought his mind was playing tricks with him until he saw the intensity in your eyes. “Why?” he asked shakily.

“Help me forget him,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be weak.”

Azriel should’ve said no for both his and your sake. He could only imagine how furious you would be once you found out he was your actual mate, but he couldn’t resist this request. He was desperate for you, and he would take scraps if that was all you would give him. For you, he was learning he would do anything.

He never thought he could feel heartbroken and elated at the same time. Azriel took his hand and placed it tenderly on the scarred side of your face. Your eyes go wide as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. Wholly taking advantage of the opportunity you gave him, he memorized every single detail, down to every hair, fine line, freckle, and beauty mark on your face. Gathering his courage, he pulled you towards him and you met him halfway.

The moment your lips met; everything went blank. All was forgotten but Azriel. His presence was the only thing you could sense. Everything felt magnified. His lips were soft as they slowly moved against yours. The scrape of your tunic sleeve as it brushed against his chest sounded like thunder. The smooth glide of your hands felt like silk as you gently pulled him closer where his neck met his shoulder.

Being this close and kissing Azriel felt exhilarating, so much so that your golden glow was detected with closed eyes. You don’t know if it was 30 seconds or 30 minutes but time felt different. Slightly out of breath, the both of you leaned your foreheads against each other in disbelief. Suddenly, the loud chatter of Rhysand and Thesan by the tent opening makes you and Azriel spring apart.

You were just able to stand up and straighten yourself out when Rhysand and your cousin casually strode in, their faces smooth and unreadable. Moments later Calon and Cassian walked in, and they met your eye with smirks on their lips. You cringed at the thought of the four fae hearing what went down between you and Azriel. You gave the warriors a warning glare that would ensure their silence for the time being.

Still slightly dazed from your kiss with Azriel, you gestured to Rhysand to walk with you to the corner of the tent in a desperate attempt to clear your mind before speaking to the High Lord. Clearing your throat, you explained to Rhysand what you were able to mend and how much damage the faebane had done to his body. You tell him that you highly recommend Azriel to be banned from fighting in the next battle. Rhysand asked questions and you prayed to the Mother he wouldn’t mention anything about the shadowsinger’s scent that wafted from you.

As the shadowsinger watched his mate talk to his brother, Azriel tugged hard against the golden thread in his chest but to his dismay, the other side was still vast and empty. He still couldn’t believe he’d kissed you, with the way things were going, he never thought he’d get the chance. Despite the bond not snapping for you, Azriel could tell with the way you were breathless and glowing; that at this moment, whoever your lover was, was long forgotten.

For now, this was enough for Azriel.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

warnings: swearing

AN: happy ghostbusters day!

I hummed happily when ray kissed my head. I rolled over and wrapped my arms around his neck. Ray chuckled before kissing me softly.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He whispered. I ran my fingers through his hair and shook my head.

“Don’t be.” I mumbled, sleepily nuzzling into him. “I’m glad you’re home.” Ray hugged me tightly as he climbed into bed. “What was it anyway? Why didn’t you want me to go?”

“Gozer.” Ray said, waking me up.

“what?” I asked, sitting up. Ray nodded. “Gozer?!” He nodded again. “Please tell me that it’s finally taken care of.”

“yeah. Gone for good this time.” Ray confirmed.

“and the traveler?” I asked, fingers curling into his shirt. He didn’t say anything. “Raymond, tell me there wasn’t…”

“it was one time and i panicked and i thought it was going to be…not that bad.” Ray said. I rolled my eyes.

“not what I meant.” I said. “Was there a traveler?”

“not this time.” Ray said, kissing my forehead. I gave him a look. “I’m serious. There was no traveler this time.” I nodded and curled up against him.

“I’m glad you’re home. And safe.” I said, starting to drift off. Ray kissed my head again. The next morning, I got up and went to make coffee while ray slept in. He’d gotten in late and I didn’t want to force him up if I didn’t have to. I grabbed my cup and poured the coffee. I turned around to grab something from the fridge when I heard something behind me. I turned back to my cup and screamed. There was what looking like a miniature sized stay puft marshmallow man in my cup. It flipped over and waved at me before it started melting. I screamed again and scrambled back from the counter.

“what?” Ray asked as he came running into the room. “What’s wrong? Is it slimer again?” I shook my head and pointed at my cup, where a semi melted stay puft was still floating. “Oh.” Ray muttered, turning around to look at me with a sheepish look.

“Raymond!” I cried. “What the fuck is that? Why is there a tiny stay puft…” I noticed another one toddling along the windowsill. “Tiny stay pufts…” I stared at them wide eyed before looking at ray again. “Raymond Francis stantz!” I yelled. “For fucks sake! What did you do? I thought you said there wasn’t a traveler!”

“there wasn’t.” He shrugged. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. “There wasn’t. I don’t know what these are. They just kind of started happening.”

“But…it’s not…you can’t keep them ray!” I seethed. His face fell and I felt bad for a second.

“why not?” He asked, clearly upset. I ran a hand down my face.

“because we don’t know what they are or where they came from. Or what they can do.” I sighed. Ray turned back to the small group walking around our counter.

“right.” He perked up. “And we never will until I study them!”

“ray, no.” I said. “Sweetie no. You can’t…” ray stepped towards me and put his hands on my arms.

“just think…”

“no…”

“what it could mean…”

“It’s dangerous…”

“just a couple days…”

“you’re not egon.” I sighed. His face fell. “Ray I know you want to find the answer to everything. But you can’t. And that’s the beauty of our work. It’s ever changing and elusive. But this…” I waved a hand towards the marshmallows currently doing the Conga. “It’s dangerous ray.” I put my hands on his chest as he sighed. “Ray…wait a minute. What were you going to do with them after you finished your research?” I narrowed my eyes at him as ray tried to step back. I held onto his shirt and tugged him back. “Raymond.”

“well uh.” He started. I let my head fall against his shoulder.

“You were going to keep them as pets weren’t you?” I sighed. Ray stayed quiet above me. “Raymond.” I groaned. Ray wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back. “For fucks sale ray!” I pulled back and ray grimaced.

“I mean they are pretty stupid.” He said, trying his best to look hopeful. “It’s not like they’re going to be much of a problem. We just have to make sure they can’t get into anything dangerous.”

“fine. Fine.” I gave in. “But you take care of them. You keep them out of my coffee. And you keep them out of the bedroom.” I poked rays chest and glared at him. He laughed at me and cupped my cheeks.

“deal.” He agreed before kissing me. The sound of the garbage disposal turning on made me pull away.

“RAY!”

[holylulusworld]

The one that got away (9)

Summary: Your best friend breaks your heart.

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, making out, implied innocent reader, idiots in love, cuddling & snuggling

Catch up here: The one that got away (8)

The one that got away masterlist

One kiss led to gentle touches, and at the end of the night, you and Dean were all over each other. His hand under your shirt, and yours down his pants.

You made out like horny teens, kissing and caressing, groping, and kneading. 

Dean stopped before everything went too far. 

He knew you were not ready to take things to the next level. He didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t ready to do. Dean tried to be a gentleman and keep little Dean under control.

For once, he wanted to show you that Dean Winchester is more than his cocky attitude, a perfect smile, and a hot muscle car.

You fell asleep in his arms, sleeping soundly on his chest to dream of the life you could’ve had with him, if Dean hadn’t messed things up years ago.

“Morning sunshine,” you giggle as Dean lifts his head. He murmurs your name and lies back down. “Hey, get up. It’s a beautiful day and I don’t want to spend it at my apartment. We can go for a walk, have pie at the new bakery I discovered, and more.”

“How about breakfast in bed?” He lifts his head again to smirk at you. “And later we can eat something too.”

“Cocky bastard!” You throw a pillow at Dean, making him grumble. “Get up, Winchester. Don’t waste more time. I already prepared breakfast.”

“Let’s cuddle some more,” he whines and lifts the blanket. “Come back to bed, sweetheart. The day is still early, and we can start it the right way.”

“Dean,” you sigh, but step closer to the bed. He sleepily rubs his face, and you give in. You crawl back onto the bed and snuggle into Dean’s side. “What about breakfast?” 

“I’ll make pancakes later. You know, I learned how to cook to impress the ladies. Uh-I meant you,” he wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head. “You’ll fall for me only to have my pancakes all the time.”

“I bet the ladies are crazy for your pancakes.” He chuckles at your words. “Did you make them for many women?”

“You’ll be the first to taste my infamous pancakes and scrambled eggs,” Dean whispers in your ear. “I’ll feed you well and later, we will go out and have fun. Do you want to watch a movie, or have dinner?”

“Both?” Your eyes flutter shut, and you yawn. “What do you want to watch? Maybe some rom com…”

“How about a horror movie? You’ll get scared and I’ll protect you, sweetheart,” he chuckles, but you are already asleep. “Nah, we will watch something more…romantic.”

You giggle when Dean uses the stretch and yawn move. When he brings his arms down, he puts one of them around your shoulders. “Do you like the movie?” He asks when you lean into his touch.

“It’s nice,” you hold back a chuckle. Dean chose the only romantic movie, only to end up watching a French movie in the original language. “Do you like it too?”

“Hmmm…” he tries not to tell the truth. Dean hates the movie, but he loves having you here, in his arms. “It’s not bad.” He lies poorly.

“How about…” you whisper in his ear, “we sneak out and get pizza, and pie and watch a slasher movie at home?”

“I love you,” he blurs out, hissing as you slap his thigh. “I mean it Y/N. You are one in a million. Smart, sweet, sexy and, you like me even though you know about all of my flaws.”

“I want to hear these three words again, when you mean them,” you dip your head to look at Dean. “And only when you mean them…”

Dean furrows his brows. He sighs and stares at the pizza you bought on your way back to your apartment. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You worriedly look at Dean. “Are you not hungry? You wanted pizza and pie and barely ate anything. You won’t get sick. Right?”

“I can’t believe you said those things!” He suddenly gets up from the couch to pace back and forth. “I told you that I love you and meant it. But you didn’t believe me!”

“What? I—” You get up to grab his hand. “Dean, I thought…I mean…that was in the heat of the moment. You were excited because of the promised food and the slasher movie we wanted to watch.”

“I said it because it’s the truth,” Dean cups your face with both hands. “I quit my job and moved miles away from my old life to be here, with you. The moment I finally found out where you moved to, I knew that I wanted to be with you.”

“You move to town because of me?” You splutter. “Dean…”

“I love you, and this won’t change,” he presses his lips to yours. You moan into his mouth and melt against him. 

“I love you too, Dean,” you fist his jacket. “Only you Dean. No one else.”

“Only me,” he whispers against your lips.

“I want only you Dean…”

The one that got away (10) - FIN

Tags in reblog.