#I’ve been hammering out the changes I want in mind

[kcwriter-blog]

More thoughts on Solavellan

I started replying to a post about the psychological aspect of Solavellan because it was interesting, well thought out and I thought good points were made but it got very long, and I had new thoughts. I wanted to put them down. This is not a criticism of that post in any way, it’s good and I urge people to read it. I just see things differently.

The big problem I have with most takes on Solavellan is how they take agency away from Lavellan whenever Solas is mentioned. We have a woman who grew to be one of the most powerful leaders in Thedas but when we talk about her and her feelings, she suddenly becomes this naive child desperately in love with the man who broke her heart. I just don’t see it. I don’t see a relationship – no matter how intense – of a few months, defining her going forward. So, let’s look at it.

Solas and Lavellan do love each other deeply. We don’t hear Lavellan say I love you until the breakup scene and she never calls him vehnan until Trespasser. Obviously, that is, as with most things in the romance, because it was a rushed, late add to the game. But it is interesting.

People get on Solas’ case for not defining the relationship, but I would argue she isn’t in a hurry to define it either. Which is smart. They haven’t been together long and one, the other, or both of them could die.

It’s possible that Crestwood is the first chance they have had to talk about it. I’ve never liked the first dialogue option because Lavellan seems genuinely surprised that up until now, she doesn’t know what to call Solas. Which is silly. They have been exclusive for a few months now. They are in love. She’s been calling him something and my guess is it is vhenan (her heart, home). And Solas fully intends to have that discussion. He just gets cold feet because what he has to tell her isn’t something she is going to believe.

Moving on. The valleslin scene has had a lot posted about it and I don’t want to get into it. I think what’s important is not whether it is removed or not but the idea that Solas alone destroys her faith by telling her the truth. Did he hammer the final nail in the coffin of her faith? Yes, but a smart Lavellan has to be questioning everything already. Why? Because she met Mythal.

Even before she meets the head of her pantheon, she has been to the Temple of Mythal and learned a lot that differs from her people’s mythology. She learns that Mythal was murdered, not locked away. She learns that the Dread Wolf had no part in that murder. She sees a depiction of the Dread Wolf in an antechamber of the temple in a guard dog position which is weird. If she drank from the Well, she has a lot of ancient elven voices in her head telling her stuff. If she didn’t, she would have Morrigan telling her the same stuff.

She meets ancient elves. And those elves don’t see her or the Dalish as their own. Just as a reminder, Solas isn’t the only ancient elf to have feelings about the Dalish. Abelas is very pointed about saying Lavellan isn’t one of his people. Felassan makes fun of the Dalish. Mythal says “the People bend the knee to easily” in DA2. Heck, Felassan thinks more of the city elves than he does of the Dalish. Solas eventually comes around. It’s a grudging respect but he does allow that they have some good qualities.

Lavellan meets Mythal and Mythal isn’t exactly a nice person. She has chosen to possess the body of a human, not an elf. She never helps the elves. So, you have an elven goddess in diminished form running around helping human heroes but doing nothing for the people that pray to her. That must rock her world and her faith.

Her faith is already on the ledge by Crestwood. Solas possibly pushes it over. And he never would have told her if he hadn’t messed up and changed his mind about the other thing. It’s all impulsive. He isn’t thinking straight, just covering his ass and it hurts her. However, I think he still intended to carry on the relationship without telling her the truth. During the kiss, he finally realizes that if he loves her so much he almost told her everything, then not telling her is morally wrong and he comes up with a reason to end it.

After the breakup, Lavellan is hurt. It always hurts when someone breaks up with you. What hurts the most is knowing he still loves her. What also hurts is he won’t give her a reason. I don’t think she is questioning everything he told her at this point. He’s just the cold-hearted son of a bitch who broke her heart.

Most of us have been there. We’ve got breakup playlists, alcohol and friends to help get us through it. I usually imagine my Lavellan grabbing Bull, Dorian and Cole to help her take out her anger on a poor unsuspecting dragon. I also put off triggering the Wicked Grace game until after the breakup.

That doesn’t mean she isn’t angry or crying on Josephine’s shoulder. Of course she is, but she isn’t questioning her life choices. She could tell Solas to get lost, but she keeps him around. She is even kind to him when the Orb is discovered broken.

And everyone is kind of busy planning to find and finish Corypheus off once and for all. I see her putting a pin in it. Once they win, she will confront him and demand answers.

She doesn’t get the chance because he leaves without saying goodbye. That has to hurt. I don’t see her in a place where she could never trust anyone ever again. It’s more likely, she throws daggers at a drawing of him out in the practice yard. Even if she still loves him, she is an adult not a maiden in distress. As much as she loves Solas, her entire world does not revolve around him.

Solas made his choice. She may be concerned about him - especially after Cole’s cryptic message - but I don’t see her searching frantically for him. He knows where she is and can send her a message if he needs her.  

And she is busy. She must help clean up the mess Cory made. She has rifts to close. She has dignitaries to meet. She has paperwork. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for pining.

There is an idea that Lavellan is alone because all of her inner circle except her advisors go off and do their own thing. Except that isn’t true. They write letters – which you can find exploring the Winter Palace – in those letters some of them mention having visited or that they will visit. Lavellan is also capable of making new friends. She is not static.

Solas leaving her may still hurt. She may have (and probably did) tried to move on but so far no one matched him for any number of reasons. She is only alone in the sense that any leader is alone. What she probably misses the most about Solas is that he always treated her like a person, not an icon.

Then we get to Trespasser. If you have found all the clues for the secret dialogue option, she has figured out Solas is the Dread Wolf long before she confronts him. She has seen the murals, learned his story. She knows the Dalish got it wrong. She knows from experience that the Dalish get a lot wrong. And he’s Solas. She might not know him as well as she thought but she saw beneath his mask a little. She isn’t going to be afraid of this figure out of Dalish legend. Mostly she is going to be pissed because he didn’t tell her the truth, because he didn’t trust her.

As far as the arm thing goes. Weekes and Epler have said, he did not amputate her arm. Solas drew out the magic that was killing her. The arm disintegrated. It was already doing so by the time she meets Solas. If he hadn’t drawn out the magic, she would have disintegrated just like Solas’ friend Wisdom. I think arguments that she would have trouble trusting anyone based on this are a non-starter

Once all that is over, will Lavellan have a hard time trusting anyone? She will have a hard time trusting Solas. Who wouldn’t? Will it color her perception of anyone she might want to be romantically involved with? For a few years maybe but what are the chances she will fall in love with another god?

Trust isn’t just about people you’ve been romantically linked with. She still trusts her inner circle. They help her. A bad experience with one person, no matter how much she may love him, isn’t going to make her stop trusting people entirely.

Now apart from Solavellan, I’m pretty sure Lavellan is messed up psychologically. You can’t go through what she did and not be a little messed up. But it is that experience that may make her empathize with Solas and understand why he left her.

She knows what it is like to be a leader. Not in the sense of leading her clan but in the sense that her decisions have huge consequences. She knows how a leader’s decisions are always second guessed - like they are at the Exalted Council if you chose to exile the Wardens. She knows what it is like to have to step up and be the one to save the world. She knows that sometimes there are no good choices, and you do the best you can. She knows it messes you up and you can lose your way. Solas has lost his.

Is it ten times harder to empathize when you loved that person, and they destroyed your trust? Yes. Solas will have to win her trust back. She will view anything he says or does with suspicion, as anyone would. However, Solas rarely outright lies. She knows this. She will be asking a lot more questions and be paying more attention. She also knows that he didn’t lie about loving her.

Okay, but he is still planning to tear down the Veil so he must not love her very much. Her love moved the needle. He went from believing nothing was real to thinking everyone is real. Is it so hard to imagine that Lavellan thinks he can be reasoned with? I doubt she thinks her love alone will change him. That doesn’t mean she won’t want to try. That doesn’t mean she will want him back when it’s all over. It also doesn’t mean she is a quivering mess obsessing over their relationship.

Solavellan can be whatever you want it to be, based on your own experiences. For some it's an angsty story with a Lavellan pining for him. For others, she gets over it fast with Cullen's help. For me, she is a strong, proud woman who is able to use her own experiences to empathize with Solas and want to save him from himself. She may still love him, but that love has been tempered by her experiences with him. They will need to have a long talk if they ever meet up again.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 1: Baking Cookies

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Baking Cookies (🌼)

Summary: You convince Matt to bake cookies with you, and it’s a rather… domestic scene.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. That’s it. That’s the post.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: Day 1 of Fictober and we’re starting with something sweet! The -ber months always get me in the mood for cookies, especially chai tea or matcha cookies, so that’s what inspired me. Who wouldn’t want to bake cookies with Matt on a cold and rainy day? I know I would. If you want to be tagged for all fics of this event, let me know. Other than that, I am using my respective fluff and smut tag lists that I use for just about everything I write. But if you want to be tagged for both and aren't already on my tag list, feel free to tell me in the comments! Now, I’m so happy we all get to do another October together, and I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve got cooking for you! May you all come out of this sufficiently satisfied.

Read Me On AO3!

The streets of New York are bathed in a disarray of colors as dead leaves continue to fall off the half-green trees. Before you knew it, summer had slipped away into a moment in time. The heatwave that had terrorized the city turned colder with the end of September, and then suddenly, October was knocking on your door. 

You watch the rain trickle down the kitchen windows. The air smells of roasted cinnamon and coffee beans. The billboard outside shines brighter than the afternoon sun stuck behind a sky of gray, throwing a blanket of dark purple over the apartment, and the radio has been playing the same Beach House song on repeat for the past hour. But as you look over at the love of your life, his rough fingers delicately dancing over the label on the sugar jar to figure out what’s inside, there is no doubt in your mind that this is where you belong.

Matt is wearing the maroon sweater you knitted for him last Christmas. Once the seasons start changing, he pulls it out of the closet like he couldn’t wait to wear it again. Your hands crafted something for him to wear so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the cold anymore; there are not enough words in the English language to describe how much that means to him, but you know. You always know.

He looks almost content, standing there with his hair tousled, glasses discarded somewhere in the living room, and a faint smile on his lips. His brown eyes are so soft they remind you of the hazelnut coffee you shared before you suggested, “You want to bake some cookies?”

Much to your surprise, Matt didn’t argue. You expected him to tell you that it’s not Christmas yet, and you were prepared to tell him that cookies don’t need a specific season to be baked. But his face lit up as soon as the words had left your mouth, and he was more than eager to spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with you. 

“How much sugar do we need?” he asks. 

You look down at the handwritten chai cookie recipe he picked out. “Uh, half a cup,” you say. 

He nods, eyebrows furrowing in utmost concentration as his hands feel around the countertop for the measuring cups. You gently place your hand over yours and guide it to the cold plastic. 

His smile widens. “Thank you.”

You look at him like he’s the only man in the world, and to you, he is. It’s not often the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen lets someone into his heart, you learned, but you only fell harder for him when he finally did. He’s beautiful and not at all perfect, but he is all you want.

“Sugar?” Matt snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“Right,” you murmur. “Half a cup.”

He can probably hear your heart racing, hammering against your ribcage. You guide your joined hands into the sugar, filling it only half before moving over to the bowl with the other dry ingredients. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even comment on how flustered you are, he just holds on tightly to your hands as though he is afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t. 

It is a different kind of intimacy that’s almost sensual, bodies brushing as you get a whisk to mix it all together, your hand over his and the rain pattering against the window in tune with the radio. 

The cinnamon and the chai tea mix with the faint note of Matt’s cologne on your body, on his shirt, and the scent is unlike anything you could possibly describe. You find yourself leaning closer, impossibly closer, barely stirring anymore. He’s home. He’s your home. 

“Is this part of the recipe?” Matt murmurs. 

You hum. “This step is called stirring the batter.”

He smiles against your temple. “Mh. I like this step.”

“Me too.”

One of his hands slips from yours and comes to rest around your waist, swaying you to the music. You wouldn’t dare break this magic.

“Is there a step called ‘Kiss my future Mrs. Murdock’?” he asks then.

Blood rushes to your head. You’re so fucking happy. A giggle slips past your lips. “I think that’s the next step,” you say. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He bridges the gap between you like a man starved, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that knocks the air right out of your fragile lungs. His hand tugs you just a little closer. You belong to me, the action screams. And while you would never allow yourself to be considered someone’s property, it is nice to be wanted. To be needed. To be desired like you are the only thing on his mind, and treated right. Because you deserve it.

After a moment, he pulls away. His unfocused eyes roam your face, but you know he is only listening to your heartbeat, smelling you, feeling you—that’s how he sees you. 

“What’s next?” he asks softly. 

You peek down at the batter, then look back at him. Your mind is still reeling from the kiss, but you manage to pull yourself together enough to say, “Wet ingredients.”

“Oh?”

“Not like that, you pervert!” 

Matt chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it.” You swat his chest. “I wanted to bake cookies, so let’s bake some damn cookies.”

If you don’t pull away now, you’re sure you won’t get anywhere tonight. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” he teases. 

You nod. “That’s what we’re doing.”

He takes whatever you give him, and does whatever you tell him to until the cookies are finally in the oven. He doesn’t waste another second before pulling you back into his arms.

“Hi,” he says. 

You smile back at him. “Hi to you, too.”

“You forgot this…” You watch as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring—your ring.

It was only natural for him to ask you to marry him. He’d been waiting an eternity to do so. No one knows him like you do. No one sees him like you do, and no one loves him quite like you. You’ve seen him at his best and his worst, and you love him not despite but regardless of all of his demons. He doesn’t know what he did to ever deserve you. Quite frankly, he’s not sure he will ever be worthy, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

Matt had gotten so used to people walking out on him before you came along that he truly believed he was beyond redemption. Beyond saving. But then you tore open the manifest of his soul, read all the pages, and you gave him your heart anyway. He has not let a day go by where he hasn’t at least tried to do right by you. To take care of you. To love you. To carry you in his very hands like the fucking ethereal being that you are. He’s so scared of losing you, he sometimes loses sight of what he wants just to make you happy, but it’s worth seeing the smile on your face when he brings you flowers he thinks smell like you, or when he gets dinner from your favorite restaurant to surprise you after a long day at work. 

Matt’s only purpose in life is to make you happy because he knows you give him the world in return, a kind of love he never thought he would get to experience. It’s unconditional, it’s deep, and at times, it hurts, but he’s learning what it is like to appreciate the life he was given.

He would steal the stars for you if you wanted them. He would die for you, and sometimes he thinks he might even kill for you. Break all of his rules just to make sure you stay unharmed. He would go up against God, even, if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer. He would not survive losing you, and sometimes, that scares him.

It has been a long road for him, and at times it felt like he was carrying a wooden cross on his back like Jesus did, but all the suffering eventually led to a sense of peace. He learned how to love again—to love you. After Elektra, after putting Fisk away, after everything, he allowed himself to settle down. And he knew shortly after he met you that he was going to marry you. 

You wrap your hand around the ring in his hand, and he gasps softly as he returns to reality. “Didn’t want it to get dirty,” you whisper. 

Matt slips it on your finger, and it feels again like the first time he did it. “I know. I kept it safe for you,” he says. A pause, and then, “I love you… Mrs. Murdock.”

He will never tire of saying it. Not even when you’re old and gray and you can’t remember where you put your godforsaken glasses. 

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, Mr. Murdock. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

The honesty in your voice overwhelms him. “You mean that?” 

“With all my heart,” you promise.

The words take a second to seep in, to withstand the doubts that are always raging inside of him, but then he pulls you in, and he kisses you again. He kisses you like his life depends on it, the delicious smell of chai tea cookies filling the air, and it’s the safest you know you are ever going to be—here, with him, and in his arms. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @lucienofthelakes

[notjustjavierpena]

Hiii!!! Can you do some phone sex with dbf!joel? I’ve seen it around but I’d love your take on it 😈

Pillow

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I love you, anon. This is so fun to write! Keep it coming.

Summary: Leaving for college after fucking your dad’s best friend a whole summer is sure to bring along some withdrawals symptoms.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), pillow humping, f masturbation, daddy kink, phone sex, dirty talk, m masturbation, mutual masturbation, somehow also a bit of fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48953992

Pillow

Physically, Joel is annoyingly far away from you when you finally leave for college again, but in your mind, he is very much present all the time during classes. He floods your brain with filth, sweet nothings, a sudden memory of how it feels to kiss him and how his fingers feel inside you.

You miss him and it’s frustrating.

Frustrating to a degree that you haven’t quite experienced before, one that makes you want to say a naughty word just to see him drive across the country to tell you off. It must be withdrawal symptoms, you think, as a result of spending a whole summer being so close to him. Every day bouncing on his dick with his hand on your throat, able to see him, have him, whenever you wanted.

Yes, you have his number in your phone’s contacts, but so far all you have messaged him is that you’ve arrived safely, and his dry response of a simple smiling emoji and a thumbs up tells you that he is not the type to text regularly. You’re surprised he even knows how to use emoticons.

It’s Friday night after your first week back and you are alone in your room. The dormitories are quiet, empty of students who have gone out to celebrate the so far successful survival of being back to having their noses in the books again. Even your roommate has gone out despite her being notoriously known for staying in to read ahead. You wonder if something’s happened to her over the summer that’s changed her — just like you have changed from enthusiastic to filled with dread, unable to say why to anyone. 

“Just don’t feel like going out to get hammered,” you’d said instead, head in your pillow as you had tried to hide your blues. Is this heartbreak?

Your face is still squished into your pillow, arms wrapped around it to feel something close to an embrace. All the other decorative ones have been thrown onto the floor. Your blanket has been discarded too since it’s still warm at night. You have one leg tucked under your body as you scroll mindlessly through your Instagram feed and watch stories of people in bars, singing loudly and drinking beer.

It’s been an hour since you texted Joel, the famous non-texter, that you missed him. The radio silence is driving you insane, even more so because you do not wish to be the person who demands constant attention. 

But the text has sent your heartbeat skyrocketing. Yet the pulse isn’t just evident in your chest; it’s moved down south so quickly. You miss him, yes, but fuck, you miss his mouth, soft tongue on your clit, pads of his fingers rubbing against that little spot inside you that made you a believer. Though above all, you miss his cock that fits perfectly inside of your, now wet, cunt.

Eyeing the floor, your gaze falls upon your new silk pillow. It was a birthday present from your roommate, something about the silk covering being good for your hair’s health, but right now, it’s going to serve a greater purpose. 

You snatch it from the floor and haul it onto the bed, impatiently getting onto your knees to pull your hoodie over your head, exposing your chest, and tug your underwear down to your knees. It’s not like you’re in a hurry since it’s still early, but you are too lazy to take your panties all the way off.

You consider getting up and locking the door for a moment, but you should be able to hear if your drunk roomie stumbles towards your shared room, so the need to get off wins over your laziness once again. 

From previous experience, you bunch up the pillow how you like it. The silk is tricky since it’s smoother than your normal pillow, but you manage to straddle the fabric how you want it after holding it in place. It’s so soft and comfortable against your very sensitive skin, cooling against your wet heat.

You reach down between your legs to spread yourself open a little, letting out a soft sound as the bunched-up stuffing of the cushion settles right where you need it the most. Your heart is beating out your chest as you start rutting your pussy against the silk, seeking out some kind of disappearance act for the constant ache and dread in your body from being exposed to missing Joel fucking Miller. 

You get lost in the sensation quickly. Warmth spreads across your chest as your breathing becomes heavier. Your sensitive clit throbs, earning friction that gets you humming in pleasure. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel his lips ghosting along your neck and you imagine that he is the one touching you between your legs, chest towards your back, and arm around your waist, so he can cup your mound and plunge two fingers into you. Your walls clench, a higher-pitched moan bouncing off the walls.

You grind harder against the pillow. Your thighs tense a little as you rock back and forth, cunt fluttering as you feel closer to the edge by the second. Oh, how you wish to have his face between your thighs right now. His warm, thick tongue fucking you open as his nose bumps against your swollen nub. 

Your hips stutter. Not yet. You wonder if you could wait long enough for a reply. Probably not.

You move to get on your hands and knees, looking down between you and the pillow. There’s a stain on the silk, your arousal having seeped onto the fabric and made a darkened wet patch. Your cunt clenches once more, and another sticky drop of slick drips from you. 

“Shit,” you moan quietly at the sight. You are about to reach for your phone to cheekily snap a photo of your mess to send to Joel, but before you can open the camera, a message from Joel ticks in. 

You almost come at the mere sight of seeing his name on your phone. It’s still coded in as Joel (dad’s buddy). There’s no need to open it as you read it at the top of the screen. 

I have some time. Can I call you? -JM.

You don’t reply. Instead, you call him without a second thought. The beeping sound of your phone ringing has you shivering, but he picks up on the third ring.

“Joel,” you breathe shakily into the receiver. 

You hear Joel’s breath hitch in his throat at the tone of your voice. You imagine that he has tensed up since there’s a pause on the other end of the line. Then, “What're you doing?” 

“Thinking about you.”

“What are you wearing?” From his tone, you can hear that it’s meant as a joke with a tinge of mockery too. You suppose that you deserve that, but you won’t let him get away with being snarky about this. He needs to know this isn’t just to get adventurous with him, but rather to relieve you of misery. 

“Nothing, Daddy, I miss you… It hurts,” you pout despite him not being able to see. 

“Where does it hurt?” He plays along. All mockery has vanished. He clears his throat, it sounds dry.

“My little pussy. She needs you,” you make sure your bed squeaks as you start moving on the pillow again. Joel is quiet except for a deep exhale as he listens. It has your head swimming once more in record time, clit throbbing impatiently as you’ve already edged yourself once. 

“Fuck, baby. I can hear ya. Got anythin' between those pretty legs?”

“Not my hand,” you say truthfully. You put your phone on speaker to grip the edge of the pillow, snapping your hips forward in your seat. 

“What then?” 

“My pink silk pillow,” you moan softly as heat starts pooling below your navel again. You want him to join you, but you’re not going to ask.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel breathes deeply in through his nose, a half sigh and moan, “We’ve been apart for a week and you already do this. Gettin' out of hand, baby girl. Don’t ya think so?”

“I can’t function without your cock, Daddy” you feed his ego. It won’t harm anyone because you’ve found your statement to be absolutely true, “Miss being sore. You made me hurt so good, Joel.” 

“And now you’ve replaced me with… bedding?” Joel teases, but you hear him shuffling around like he is moving through his house. 

“Yeah,” you giggle breathlessly, bunching the pillow up even tighter. You wiggle your hips to seat yourself against the silk as before, a little crease of it nudging against your clit. It makes you push your pelvis harshly yet slowly into it. An idea pops into your mind, “Wanna see?”

You hear the sound of sheets, the clinking sound of his belt being unbuckled, and then the pull of his zipper. That was quicker than you thought. 

“Hold on,” he replies and moves his mouth away from the receiver. You prop up your phone against the wall on the floating shelf above the head of your bed, listening to the faint sound of pants being shoved down.

When he finally calls you and the FaceTime logo appears on the screen,  you press the green answer button and stare right into the camera. If this was a planned call, you would have thought about your looks and your pose, but Joel will see you just how you are right now. 

He isn’t disappointed. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he says instead of hello. You cannot see his cock, only his broad naked shoulders, mouth that’s slightly agape, and his eyes, which have become a darker brown with his arousal. 

“Daddy’s so potty-mouthed,” you reply innocently, sitting up a little straighter to show off to the camera. You move slowly up and down on the pillow, back arched to push out your chest and one hand curled around your breast. 

“How long have you been draggin' your cunt all over that pink cushion, young lady?” He asks in a low voice. His shoulder is moving in a way that tells you enough, and if you could close your eyes without feeling rude, you’d be able to see how it looked when stroked his dick.

“A while, a little after I texted you,” you reply. In the corner, you can see yourself moving on the pillow as your tits bounce slightly. It turns you on to see yourself masturbating more than you’d like to admit, “I’m so horny for you.”

“Bet you are,” his eyes roam hungrily over the screen, “So what are you waiting for?” 

“What do you mean?” You pant. 

“You want me to see you come, ain't that the plan?” His breathing is accompanied by the sound of his fist pumping his cock, “To show me how good you can treat her when I’m not around to do it?”

You nod as you moan loudly. Sweat has started to form on your chest and breasts, glistening prettily for him as you thrust your hips faster to chase your climax. It climbs steadily, like a coil tightening in your abdomen, starting from behind your cunt. 

On the other end of the line, Joel’s heavy breathing is slowly turning into moaning as well. He is getting closer as well, trying his hardest to get to where you are. 

“Daddy,” you cry feebly, “I’m gonna fu— come.”

A tingle is creeping up your spine. You’re so close, letting go of your breast to pull the fabric taut with both hands as you rock against it. Where you’ve been panting before, you hold your breath right before you come.

Every single drop of tension in your body seeps out of you as the coil finally snaps. Your orgasm hits you like a runaway train. Your world fades from view for a few seconds, your mouth hanging open in a loud groan. You ride it out without hiding your pleasure from the world, hoping that you truly are the only person in your dormitory right now, concentrating on staring into the camera lens as you gain your vision back. 

Joel swears at the sight, speeds up his hand. He scrambles for his phone to angle it towards his dick. 

“I’m gonna wreck that little cunt when I see you next time,” he promises through gritted teeth, suddenly letting out a deep grunt of satisfaction as he comes. He paints his hand, nearly dropping his phone amid the intensity, “Fuck, sweetheart.”

You’ve collapsed into your bed, pulled your phone down to hold it away from your face, and stare lovingly at Joel as the camera returns to his face. He looks a little flustered, cheeks slightly pink from the blood coursing through his veins. 

“Stay on the phone with me for a while. I promise not to fall asleep,” you plead, swinging a leg out over the edge to pick the blanket up from the floor with your toes. You throw it over yourself, suddenly chilly when the air hits your sweaty skin. It’ll be easier than hiding the evidence by cleaning up too. 

“Alright, lemme go wash my hands first,” he says, leaving the frame. You hear his feet patting across the bedroom floor, but then you hear nothing else.

When Joel returns, he gets under the covers as well, “So, how was your first week at—“

You’re snoring ever so slightly. He smiles to himself but doesn’t end the call just yet, watches you fall deeper into slumber for a while before deciding it’s enough. He shoots you a text before plugging his phone in for the night.

Fell asleep on me, Sleeping Beauty. I miss you too. Props to you for not getting foul-mouthed like me. I’ll remember that. -JM.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn crush admitting that the reason why they only talk a lot when they're comfortable with someone is because they know they won't be ignored, not acknowledged, interrupted, talked over, no one would listen, and no one cares? Sorry! I had a bad day 😞

give me a list of names, anon, and I’m going to go and enact some revenge for you ❤️

but for now the guys reacting to when their s/o confesses they aren’t comfortable talking around people they don’t know as they’re used to being ignored:

Astarion

jokes how he’ll go and maim or murder anyone who’s made you upset

(but? Maybe it’s not that much of a joke from the way he’s going for his dagger…)

encourages you to let your feelings out and complains along with you in agreement, reassuring you that he’s on your side

holds you close afterwards - even though he’s not the best at communicating how he feels, you know he’s there for you and wants you to be heard. he hears you.

Gale

my man is FLABBERGASTED

”well, as a wizard, I’ve always found everything you have to say rather interesting” (can’t help bringing that up lmao)

makes a concerted effort to make sure you know he’s listening when you talk (he always was anyway, but now he’s sure to show you how he’s hanging on every word)

reassures you that he loves you and talking to you is his favourite part of the day 💕

Wyll

reassures you so so much.

you have so many important and interesting things to say, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool

backs you up in every conversation

if anyone tries to talk over you he cuts in with a firm, “excuse me, I believe my partner was speaking?”

he will give you a gentle, kind touch to give you confidence when you’re speaking - a hand on the small of your back, or brushing his fingers against yours.

Halsin

understands your worry but tries to make you feel better about it

“so many people turn to you for guidance and leadership. they would not do that if you were not worth listening to, my heart.”

will give examples of times when your words made a deep and impactful change

reminds you that you are worth hearing. ❤️

Dammon

stands behind you and glares at people who try and talk over you. this usually makes them shut the fuck up lol

constant gentle reassurance from my man!!

if you’ve had a day where you feel like you’ve not been heard and it’s overwhelming, offers to let you hammer away at something at his forge until you feel better.

Rolan

immediate fury.

he’s the only one who gets to interrupt you!! And when he does it, it’s playful and silly!!! (In his mind anyway, my boy is too dense lmao)

casts silence on people who talk over you, then turns to you and goes, “as you were saying??”

Zevlor

tells you he treasures every word you say, and anyone who doesn’t is a fool.

loves it when you go on long rambling monologues about things because it brings him joy that you trust him so much.

lets you know that he could listen to you talk for the rest of his life, and hopes you’ll let him 💕

[httpvomitello]

HI YOUR WRITING MAKES MY HEART SOAR! Just recently got back on my tmnt love and I was thinking. How would the guys react when they find out the woman they love also loves them back? Like they’ve been pining for months/YEARS even!! Maybe they still do or at some point they decide to abandon all feelings but then she tells them herself or maybe she or April accidentally let’s it slip to the turts. Would they immediately make a move? Would they get embarrassed and withdraw? I need to knowwwww 💙❤️💜🧡

Awwwn, thank you soooo much! Seriously, reading this makes me so happy. Hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Do You Like Me Too? *⁠.⁠✧

Leo had trained himself to set his feelings aside. So he kept everything bottled up—only allowing himself brief moments to imagine what it would be like if you felt the same way.

But that all changes one night while you and Leo are practicing together. You’ve been working on some new moves, and Leo’s been your patient mentor, guiding you, helping you adjust your stance.

After a particularly successful move, he gives you an approving smile. "Nice job, (Y/N). You’re really getting the hang of it."

You grin, catching your breath as you hold his gaze. But then, suddenly, your face softens, and the words slip out almost like a sigh: "Maybe I’m just trying to impress you."

Leo freezes, his heart hammering. He’s sure he must have misheard. "What?"

"I like you, Leo. Like… really like you." You smile shyly, as if the weight of your confession is finally off your shoulders. "I don’t think I could have hidden it much longer."

For a split second, Leo’s mind races. Every reason he’s ever come up with to keep his distance vanishes. His face softens, and he takes a deep breath, daring to move closer.

"I—" His voice catches, and he looks down, gathering his thoughts. "I thought I could just… bury these feelings and keep them hidden. For the sake of you, really. I didn’t want you to feel any kind of pressure…or guilt."

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his eyes, and you reach up to gently cup his face, bringing his gaze back to yours. "Leo, you don’t have to hold back. I don’t want you to."

"I’ve loved you for so long, (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "But I thought it was selfish of me to want you in my life that way."

Your gaze softens as you lean in closer. "Then let yourself be selfish for once, Leo."

He closes the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips softly against yours in a kiss that speaks of all the months he’s held back

“I think I could get used to this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with happiness.

Raph tried to deny his feelings for you for as long as he could. Sure, he’d admired you, flirted a little, maybe even let his jealousy slip out when someone else had your attention. But he never dared to take it any further. You deserved better, he’d tell himself, so he kept his distance and convinced himself it was better this way.

April, though, had always seen right through him. She knew he was hiding a soft spot under that gruff exterior, and she'd caught on to his little glances and subtle protectiveness.

One day, she comes over to your place with a casual, “So…when are you finally gonna tell Raph that you like him too?”

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

April goes still, the color draining from her face as she realizes her mistake. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to—oh man, please don’t tell Raph I said anything.”

But you’re still processing, and your cheeks flush. “Wait, he…he likes me?”

April’s eyes widen as she realizes the floodgate she’s just opened. “Um…well, yeah, he kinda has for a long time.” She winces, giving you a guilty smile. “But he’d kill me if he knew I told you.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart racing at the thought. “I think it’s time I go have a talk with him.”

Raph’s sitting in the gym later that evening, he doesn’t notice you at first, so you clear your throat, causing him to look up, startled.

“Oh, hey,” he says, masking his surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You sit beside him, watching as he fidgets with a wrench, not quite meeting your eyes. After a moment, you take a deep breath. “Raph… April told me something today. And I need to know if it’s true.”

He freezes, his grip on the wrench tightening. “Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“She…mentioned that you might have feelings for me.”

The wrench clatters to the floor as Raph turns to you, his face a mixture of panic and frustration. “Damn it, April—she wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “Raph, it’s okay. Actually… it’s more than okay.”

He looks up at you, searching your face, his eyes filled with hope and uncertainty. “What’re you saying?”

You smile, your own cheeks flushing. “I feel the same way, Raph. I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages, but I was worried about how you’d react.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if waiting for the punchline. Then, unable to hold back, he pulls you into a tight hug, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Damn, I thought you’d never notice," he whispers, his voice rough but full of relief.

Donnie had always been the hopeless romantic, pining for you in ways that even he knew were a little over the top. He could spend hours in his lab thinking about you, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you could ever feel the same. But he never dared to say anything, especially when every little interaction with you made his heart race to the point he thought he’d lose all composure.

But April knew. Of course she did; she could read Donnie like a book. And on one of your usual visits to the lair, she accidentally lets something slip.

"Donnie, you’re so silly!" you laugh, watching him fumble through some tech explanation he’s giving you. The way you smile at him has him grinning like a fool, and April can't resist rolling her eyes. She's seen this situation too many times, and as she leans back, she accidentally mutters, “If only she knew how much you’re into her…”

You freeze. “Wait, what?” You turn to April, wide-eyed, and Donnie goes pale, his mouth opening in horror as he stares at April.

April realizes her slip-up too late, and her cheeks go red. “I mean—I…uh, have to go grab something from the kitchen!” she stammers, bolting before either of you can ask her another question.

There’s a long, awkward silence as you turn to Donnie, waiting for an answer. “Is that true?” you ask softly.

Donnie’s eyes dart around, searching for some form of escape, but when none appears, he swallows hard and nods. “Yeah… it’s true. I’ve liked you for…a long time, actually.” His face flushes as he finally admits it, looking anywhere but at you.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you reach out to gently touch his arm. “Donnie… I like you too.”

The words hit him like a shockwave, and his wide eyes finally meet yours. “Wait—what? You…you like me?”

You nod, your smile growing, and that’s all he needs. Slowly, a shy but delighted smile spreads across his face, and he lets out a little laugh, his fingers brushing against yours. "I never thought this day would actually come," he whispers.

With a grin, you step closer, and he reaches out, letting his hand brush your cheek before finally leaning in, pulling you into a gentle kiss, his heart racing with pure joy.

Mikey had always been open about his affection for you. Playful, flirty, and constantly teasing, he never held back with compliments and affectionate gestures. But you’d always just laughed and brushed him off, thinking it was just part of his personality.

What you didn’t know was that underneath his bright smiles and lighthearted antics, he’d been pining for you, hiding just how much he cared. For months, he’d wondered if you could ever take him seriously, if you’d ever see him as more than a friend.

One day, you decided to finally tell him how you felt. You’d noticed he’d been holding back a bit lately, that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to joke around as much. So you decided to risk it, showing up at the lair to talk to him.

He greets you with his usual grin, "Hey, (Y/N)! What’s up?"

"Mikey… can we talk for a sec?"

His smile falters, and he swallows, his hands fidgeting as he looks at you. "Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding. "I just wanted to tell you that… well, I like you. More than a friend, I mean."

For a second, Mikey’s face is blank, and then it lights up in pure, unfiltered joy. "Wait—are you serious?" He lets out a little laugh, almost like he can’t believe it. "You really like me?"

"Yeah," you say, your own smile growing as you see how genuinely happy he looks. "I mean, I thought you’d already know by now."

Mikey practically bounces on his feet, letting out a loud whoop. Without missing a beat, he pulls you into a hug, lifting you slightly as he spins you around, laughing with pure excitement.

"I knew it! I knew there was something between us!" he says, eyes shining. Then he looks at you with a playful grin, leaning close as he whispers, "Guess that makes me your favorite turtle, huh?"

With a laugh, you press a kiss to his cheek, and he turns bright red but doesn’t stop smiling.

[princessbellecerise]

1 A.M

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Bucky had a dark secret, and so did you. Both of you had hidden your desire for the other from your father, but one night on a kitchen table changes everything

warnings | dbf!bucky, smut, dracaphyllia, age gap, kitchen sex, oral (m. receiving), 18+ ONLY

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

It was 1 A.M when you ran into each other.

You were up because you couldn’t sleep, your body tired but your mind not letting you get a wink of rest. You were too busy stressing over miscellaneous things; such as work or your current situationship. You had tossed and turned all night and when it finally hit one o’clock, you decided to just go to the kitchen, hoping some water might pull you back to sleep.

Likewise, Bucky wasn’t getting much rest either.

He hadn’t really slept since the moment he closed his eyes, but unlike you it wasn’t because of stress. No, his predicament was more…unique, due to the fact that Bucky was simply just too excited to go to sleep.

His cock had been throbbing all night, and despite Bucky trying to his to soothe himself with his hand, it didn’t work. It wasn’t enough; not when what he really wanted was right down the hallways.

Bucky had been staying the night at your Dad’s place for a few nights, just until renovations on his own home got finished. That meant for a whole week, he had to be tortured with the fact that you were there, and Bucky couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The fantasies that he had about you were just that: fake. And at first, they were enough to get him through the night, his vivid imagination conjuring up things that would never happened in real life. Like you riding his cock, for instance. Or Bucky fucking you in the pool, that tight little swim suit you were always wearing stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Normally, that was enough to satisfy him.

But not tonight.

Something about that night had him restless, unable to sleep due to his running thoughts. Bucky figured that eventually he’d have to fall asleep, but once it started to approach one o’clock he knew that wasn’t the case.

He wouldn’t be able to truly rest anytime soon, so he sighed and got out of bed, making his way into the kitchen when he surprisingly ran into you.

You were awake, and struggling as a matter of fact. You trying to reach the snacks that your dad placed on the top shelf of the pantry, but you were having trouble since it was so high up. You weren’t tall enough to reach it, so Bucky chuckled and decided to help you out.

“Here, let me doll.”

You jumped as his figure suddenly appeared behind you, warm chest pressing into your back and causing you to suck in a breath. Quickly, you turned around, just in time to come face-to-face with Bucky as he finished grabbing the snack.

He handed the chocolate chip cookies to you and wordlessly you took them, your mouth becoming dry as you stared into his blue eyes. You weren’t expecting to be so close to him, and it made your heart hammer in your chest as you giggled nervously and lowered your head.

“Thanks, Buck,” You said quietly, stepping away from him out of modesty. And for your own sanity, not trusting yourself to be so close when he was half naked. Not that you would ever tell him that; god save you from the humiliation of that conversation.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Bucky wore a sweet smile to mask his disappointment. He quite liked being against you, even if it didn’t help his already hard cock. “I take it you can’t sleep, either?”

Changing the subject would help distract him from the fact that you were only in a nightgown. Short and lacy—just how he liked it.

“Mhmm,” You hummed softy, nodding your head. Your hands rung in front of you nervously as you noticed his eyes raking over your body. “Been up for quite a while. I’ve been trying to sleep but my mind just won’t let me, you know?”

“Hm,” Bucky nodded, understanding exactly how you felt. “I feel ya. My thoughts have been driving me crazy, too. I feel like they’re gonna turn my brain to mush,” He said honestly, though he left the part where you were the main culprit.

Chuckling a little bit, you related and then you offered him a cookie as you guys walked over to the kitchen table. Bucky took it, and he noticed how nervous you seemed to be as you stood in front of him. Eyes darting back-and-forth, not looking at him. Fingernails digging into your skin.

It was obvious that something was on your mind. And curiously, Bucky wanted to know.

“Hey, doll. You alright?” He tried to keep his voice lower now that you were closer to your dad’s room. Sam may have been a sound sleeper, but he didn’t want to risk him waking up right now.

“Hm?” You looked positively distracted. Your body was flushed, and though you tried not to, you just couldn’t help the hammering in your lower regions as you looked at Bucky. “Oh—oh no, I’m fine. Just still a little tired, that’s all.”

“You sure?” Bucky wasn’t convinced. He could see the way that you were slightly leaning away from him, almost if you were afraid to touch him. And you were doing that thing with your lip, biting it in a way that made Bucky go crazy.

God, you looked so good. It took everything in Bucky not to take you right then and there.

“Yeah,” Your tone wasn’t at all convincing and you knew that. But you couldn’t help it—you needed to lie your way out of this situation before you ended up as a puddle near Bucky’s feet. “Yeah, everything’s absolutely perfect. One hundred percent, I just think I need to get back to…”

Your voice suddenly trialed off when you made eye contact with Bucky’s sweats, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton due to the erection that was pressing against them.

You felt your whole face flush when you noticed that he was hard, and big which had you gulping a little. Suddenly, the room left like it was spinning. And of course, it only got worse when Bucky suddenly reached out to touch you.

“Are you sure, Doll? You look a little…” His calloused hands came to stroke your arms in a comforting way. Or at least, it was meant to look that way but really, Bucky just wanted an excuse to touch you. To feel your soft skin without you turning away.

And it worked—you let him touch you but not without trembling a little bit, his touch causing your skin to feel like it was on fire. You opened your mouth, but no words could come out as you looked at him.

And how could they? Everything you wanted to say was absolutely off limits. You couldn’t exactly open your mouth and tell Bucky that the way he was barely dressed right now made you wet. You couldn’t tell him that you had been weak in the knees for him ever since he had walked into the kitchen with no shirt on.

After all, Bucky was like a second father to you. You had known him ever since you were nineteen and you’d bet everything that you had that he didn’t see you the way you saw him. Sam’s little girl—that’s all you were to him. An innocent little college student that he’d never touch that way.

You couldn’t tell him that. So, you settled on lying even though you knew it would kill you.

“I…I’m fine. I’m sure. I think…I think all I need is to go back to my room and get some rest,” You stuttered, trying to convince him that you just needed to lie down.

But Bucky didn’t move. Nor did he think you were telling him the truth, which meant he wasn’t going to let you leave until he knew you were okay.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to go just yet if you’re really not alright,” He frowned, and his concern for you only made you wetter. “You know if there’s something going on in that pretty little head of yours, you can tell me, right? Anything you need. Anything at all.”

He stared at you and you shivered as he all but whispered those words in your ear. You barely even noticed how close he had gotten to you until it was too late, and suddenly you were staring into his eyes with your lips trembling.

Tears seemed to gather in your own and you weren’t sure what it was about that moment, but you just couldn’t hold back your feelings any longer. You had to get them off of your chest, even if it ran the risk of him rejecting you or telling your dad. You had to tell Bucky how you felt, because if you didn’t—you were afraid you might burst.

“I…” This was it. You were going to spill. “I-I need you Buck,” Your voice came out as a whimper and a tear fell down your face as you looked at him, the dam inside of you finally breaking. “I…I want you inside me so bad, it hurts. I—fuck. I tried to hold it back for so long, cause I know how you feel about me. But I swear, I didn’t mean to. I just…I just need you.”

Bucky felt his whole world still as the words tumbled from your mouth like a waterfall. You couldn’t help yourself as you spilled every thought he only dreamed of hearing from your lips. You told him everything Bucky had been fantasizing about for years, and for a moment, he thought that it was just another one—a dream that his cruel mind had conjured up.

He didn’t think this was real life until suddenly, he realized that his hand was still on your body, grounding him to reality. Prompting him to realize that this was very much real, and you were crying in front of him because you were so horny and so ashamed.

It felt like your whole world was crumbling, sure that you had done it now. You had certainly just ran off your dad‘s best friend, and the only other man that loved you. Surely, the next step was for Bucky to reject you and then go tell your dad everything that you had just confessed.

…But he didn’t.

Bucky didn’t do any of that, and instead, you were in for the shock of your life as he suddenly used his hand to grab your face, making you look at him through your tears.

Everything was blurry, but the smile on his face was the one thing that was clear enough for you to see.

“Sweetheart,” Utter relief flooded his voice, and Bucky could’ve sworn he’d never been happier. “You don’t know how fucking long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

“Wha—”

You were suddenly cut off when Bucky decided to slam his lips against yours, silencing your words and your worries at once. His rough mouth moved against yours, and now it was your turn to question your reality as he kissed you.

You couldn’t believe that this was happening. The person you had desired most in the world was finally reciprocating the same emotions you had. And to be honest, it overwhelmed you, making you slow to kiss him back at first.

You had to take a second to even gather your thoughts, but once you did, you swore you melted.

You fell into the kiss with Bucky like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like kissing him was something you were born to do, and your mouths moved in sync as Bucky groaned and wrapped his hands around your body.

He steadied you as he backed you into the kitchen table, the legs creaking a little bit and causing you to pull away. You looked at him worriedly, eyes glancing down the hall to where your dad was sleeping.

“Buck—we gotta be quiet,” You suddenly reminded him, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “My dad’s right down the hall. I don’t want him to wake up.”

That was the last thing you needed, and Bucky knew it, even though he was disappointed to pull away from your lips.

“Sorry baby doll,” He whispered sweetly in your ear which caused you to forgive him in an instant. You wrapped an arm around his neck and right before he kissed you again, he said, “I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

Your reply was quickly swallowed by his lips, but you didn’t care to speak much anyways. All you wanted in that moment was to devour him and savor the taste of sweet, delicious forbidden fruit. It tasted so good on your tongue that you couldn’t wait to sample what else he had in store for you.

And as if Bucky could read your mind, you were suddenly gasping as his fingers came to play with the skin of your thighs. He trailed them up so that he could get to the bottom of your nightgown, and every place that he touched left fire in its wake.

The flames that licked at your body had never felt so good, and in that moment you were praising yourself for choosing the right night attire.

The lacy nightgown only made it easier for Bucky to gain access to what he really wanted, your cotton covered pussy that he could already feel the heat radiating off of. It was easy enough for him to trial his fingers towards it, ghosting over the fabric and loving the way you moaned in his mouth.

Bucky swore he couldn’t get enough of your lips but much as he wanted to keep kissing you, his throbbing erection had him pulling away and practically clawing at his sweats to free himself. It was almost painful how hard he had gotten in the last few minutes, his cock standing straight up and slapping against his belly when he pulled on his sweats.

You watched with hungry eyes as he gave it a few pumps, loving the soft groans that escaped his lips.

You both were trying your very best to be quiet as you couldn’t imagine the reaction your daddy would have if he found you and Bucky fooling around at 1 A.M. Bucky imagined that Sam would quite literally lose his mind, and the thought had him smirking as he crawled closer to you.

You were desperate to feel him, he could see it in your eyes. Bucky could see the way you were practically crying because you wanted him so bad, the tears in your eyes only making him harder.

You were so desperate, and it was wonder you made it this long as your pussy throbbed.

You knew that the cotton panties you were wearing were soaked by now, and you couldn’t wait for Bucky to pull them down and fuck you like you deserved. You ached for him so bad, the longing almost killing as Bucky reconnected your lips and stood between your legs.

You could feel his cock poking at your clothed entrance as he kissed you; almost as desperate as you were—if not more. After all, it had been Bucky’s fantasy of this exact same situation that kept him awake in the first place. And now that he finally had what he always wanted, Bucky couldn’t stand to wait any longer.

He needed to be inside of you, and he needed to do it now.

You seemed to agree as you allowed him to pull away and finally get rid of the one thing that was separating the two of you. In an instant, he had tugged down your panties and brought them to your ankles, slipping them off before carelessly throwing them somewhere on the floor.

Mentally, you made a note to pick those up before Sam woke up in the morning. But right now, that was a very far away thought in your mind. Right now, the only thing that you were focused on was the way Bucky’s cock brushed against your entrance, teasing you so bad that you actually started crying.

“Please—Buck. I need you,” Pathetic tears began to roll down your face as you looked at him, just begging for Bucky to fuck your desperate cunt. You grinded your pussy against nothing, showing him just how much you needed the friction. And fuck—you were so wet that Bucky could see your pussy gleaming even in the dim light.

He smirked.

“That’s it—go ahead and cry, little girl. I’m gonna fuck those tears out of you anyways,” Bucky then growled in your ear. And not even a few seconds later, your deepest and darkest desire came alive as he slid into you.

As if on que, both you and Bucky let out low moans and you held onto him as he began to push himself deeper inside of you. His thick cock provided a delicious stretch, one that had you whining before he even bottomed out. Likewise, Bucky had screwed his eyes shut at the feeling of your tight pussy, utter ecstasy filling his veins.

Fuck—you felt like heaven and everything else he had dreamed of. As a matter of fact, your pussy felt even better than that and it wasn’t long before Bucky found himself speeding up, really fucking into you. Just like you wanted him to.

His hips snapped into yours, and you gasped when suddenly his cock was plunging as deep as it could go. Over and over, the table shook as he pounded into you, his balls smacking into your ass.

Random tableware began clattering but you could barely hear it over the sound of yours and Bucky’s moans mixing together.

You tried to be quiet; you really did. But with the pleasure that he was bringing you it felt damn near impossible to not scream out. He was hitting that special spot inside of you just right, making you see stars every time his cock dragged against it. It had you struggling to hold back your cries and eventually, you found yourself crying again.

On top of you, Bucky loved it. He loved seeing the sweet tears run down your face, the sobs of pleasure that he eventually had to cover with his own mouth. He couldn’t risk Sam waking up; not now. Not when he could feel your pussy clenching around him, letting him know that you were close. He didn’t want to be robbed of the moment you creamed around his cock, so he kept you silent until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

You moaned in his mouth as finally you hit your peak, your orgasm causing your body to shake and your walls clamp down on Bucky’s cock.

The delicious feeling had him groaning as you shuddered underneath him, a quiet sound that indicated his own release was near. Bucky sped up, fucking you dumb as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The lewd sounds that your pussy was making only baited him even further, edging him until Bucky’s release finally came about.

As much as you would have loved for him to cum inside of you, you both knew it would cause too much of a mess. So, right before he spilled himself, Bucky quickly pulled out and watched in astonishment as you got to your knees and quickly took him in your mouth.

The feeling of your tight lips wrapped around him had Bucky coming in no time, holding your hair between his fingers and groaning as you played with his balls.

You looked up at him and in the kitchen lights, Bucky swears that you’ve never looked sexier with your tits out and your mouth around him. Like a good girl, you made sure to get every last drop from him before you finally stood up, cheekily showing him that you had swallowed.

“Fuck—” Bucky grabbed you and pulled you close to him, your heavy panting mixing in with his. He kissed you, and when he pulled away you could tell that he was surprised to taste himself on your tongue.

“Good?” You teased him a little bit and Bucky let out a breathless chuckle as he shook his head.

“S’alright,” He simply shrugged before giving you a wink. “But I think I’d much rather taste you, doll.”

Just like before, a familiar heat spread to your cheeks and down to your core. Involuntarily, your legs clenched together and Bucky watched as you took a shy glance towards the hallways before looking back at him.

“How about we arrange that then?”

[amongemeraldclouds]

tongue tied

Lorenzo Berkshire could sweet talk his way into any situation he desired. So why couldn't he find the right words when it came to you? (fluff)

Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader

My official entry for @thatdammchickennugget and @finalgirllx ‘s Jinxed July challenge using the water balloon prompt for week one.

✿ Masterlist | 758 words

“Where are you off daydreaming to?” Mattheo approached Enzo, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as his other hand shook the water balloon.

He followed Enzo’s gaze to you as you peacefully read under a tree. “Oh, not what but who. I’ve got to give it to you, summer just started and you’ve already got a new girl in mind.”

“Shut it,” Enzo replied curtly, “it’s not like that.” It was always easy for Enzo to speak to anyone, but when it came to you, he always found himself dumbfounded.

He had meant to ask you out earlier in the year when he sat beside you in Charms class. He found you more magical than any spell he learned. You had been kind and patient, like the time he accidentally turned his hair pink with the coloravia charm and you helped him turn it back. You also had fun in class like when you used the locomotor charm to levitate your quills and make them race around class.

Each time he tried to ask you out, his tongue and stomach would be in knots. If only there was a charm for that. It wasn’t like him at all. He was supposed to be the one with the charming smile who said all the right words. And yet.

He never cared about losing. He could always change his strategy, be with different people, and get what he wanted in the end. But when it came to you, the stakes seemed higher. He couldn't afford to lose and it scared him just as much as it excited him. 

“Here’s a novel idea for you, why don’t you just approach her?”

Enzo elbowed Mattheo's side. “I’m working up to it,” he huffed. Perhaps if he played the words in his head several times, he could say them smoothly. 

“What? Did the heat fry your brain? You’ve never had to ‘work up’ to anyone,” he tilted his head to the side, studying Enzo’s face as a grin crept onto his friend’s face.

“No.” Enzo stated, reading into Mattheo’s grin. It never meant anything good. 

“I was just about to offer my help,” Mattheo said innocently despite the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“I didn’t say I needed—”

“Too late!” Mattheo declared as he swiftly swung his arm and hurled the water balloon at you. Splat! You yelped as something hit you below your neck and you felt water seep into your dress, the ink on your book melting into the pages until sentences were reduced to smudged lines. 

He winked at Enzo and mouthed, ‘you’re welcome’ before running away.

Enzo stood horrified as he watched Mattheo’s retreating figure. “That wanker!” He muttered under his breath, quelling the urge to run after him as he returned to your friends. He’d deal with him later, he had other priorities.

Taking a breath to calm his nerves, he rushed over to you. “Sorry about Mattheo.”

You looked over at him, shock and fury swimming in your nerves. Enzo forgot how to breathe. 

“H-hi,” he said weakly, clearing his throat. “It’s charms class from Enzo.” What? He felt his ears burn up with shame as he heard the words, wishing he were a leaf so the wind could carry him away.

You blinked, trying to process his words then broke out into a grin. You pointed at yourself, “it’s also charms class from y/n.”

He chuckled then, unknotting the tightness in his chest. “Can I help you with?” He motioned over to you, trying hard not to notice the way your wet dress hugged your figure. Just like that, the tightness in his chest returned. And it was also tight elsewhere.

“Yes, I want revenge,” you smirked. Salazar, he didn’t think it was possible to fall harder. He felt his heart hammering insistently, as if trying to escape his chest to leap over to you.

“Your book,” he said, trying to distract himself. “Maybe you would want to go a new one tomorrow and get a bookstore with me?” Who were words? How were sentences? What was he? It was all a mystery.

You laughed good-naturedly, he was adorable. “Whatever that was, yes.” You had liked him for a while and enjoyed spending time with him in class, but you always thought he was just being nice like he was with everyone.

Yet here he was, stumbling over his sentences. You had never seen him flustered like this before and wanted to put him out of his misery. “Now where can we get those water balloons?”

A/N: I had a longer plot in mind, but last week was personally tough for me so this will do for now. The plot idea I'm referring to will be featured in a future fic instead so stay tuned.

✿ Masterlist

[bitethedevil]

Hey bitey! How are you doing? ♡

I know you are not much of a fan of sub!raphael but I would loooove to know your ideas for a reluctant/bratty bottom Raphael actually enjoying being dominated by tav for once hahaha

Hiii. Thank you for the ask <3 I tried. I'm not used to writing Sub!Raphael. It got pretty long.

Beg (NSFW)

Raphael woke up in chains after having been knocked out. It had been no small feat for her to arrange this whole ordeal. It had needed a lot of planning. She had lured him with promise of the Crown of Karsus. What he did not know was that the Crown had already been delivered to Mystra, and that Tav had been snooping through his house. She had found out that he had a spare pair of Infernal chains like those that held Prince Orpheus, and she still had the Orphic Hammer. She had freed Hope and then hatched a plan to tie up this unfortunate loose end of hers.

She saw the first signs of him waking up. She heard a low groan. She saw his tail twitch and his wings moving ever so slightly. She had the decency to place him in a chair rather than just letting him dangle from the chains. He raised his head from his slumped over position. His yellow eyes looked at her with clear hatred when he saw her and realized his predicament. She smiled brightly at him from a chair opposite from him. Despite his situation, he kept his composure remarkably well and kept calm. He glanced at the chains, and she saw his jaw clench before he looked back at her.

“Would you kindly explain what in the Nine Hells do you think you are doing?” he said in a low voice. “This was not what we agreed upon, mouse.”

She couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle. It was amazing how even when he was so clearly beaten, he refused to acknowledge it. It was admirable in it’s own way, if not a bit pathetic.

“You’re right,” she said with a cheerful tone. “I believe that we agreed that I either give you the Crown of Karsus or you get my soul. Something along those lines, right? There is just this tiny little problem, Raphael.”

He looked at her with a bored expression.

“I’ve sort of…” she said and gestured as if trying to find the right words. “Sort of changed my mind, I suppose. All this ‘nearly becoming illithid’-mess have given me a whole new appreciation for my soul, you see. I don’t want you to have it.”

His nose wrinkled in disdain, but he forced a smile.

“That should be no matter of concern,” he said calmly. “As long as you hand me the Crown, of course.”

She leaned back and drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair.

“Hm, yes, well,” she said. “About that… I gave it to Mystra.”

The calm façade cracked right then and there. It was like his eyes were ablaze.

“You insolent little—”

“Oh, we are not doing that,” she laughed and flicked her wrist.

She used her magic to conjure a piece of thick fabric that wrapped itself around his mouth, effectively gagging him.

“Here is what we are going to do though,” she said and got up from her chair, the sound of her boots on the floor and the rustle of him squirming against the chains filling the room. “You are going to agree to annul my contract.”

She tapped on the chains around his wrists. His hand shot out to grab her, but the chains held him back.

“Then I will free you from these, when you have shown me that you can behave, and I am convinced you won’t try to do something stupid. You can even have your hammer back too if you want, since I am feeling in a generous mood today. Nod if you understand.”

He did not agree. There came a low growl from him instead. His eyes were filled with just as much anger as before. Tav didn’t feel particularly patient. It had been a very long day. She kicked the chair away from under him, so he fell to his knees. He was on his knees in front of her and it was a very satisfying sight. She grabbed his face, her nails digging into his cheeks.

“Or I could just kill you,” she said with a shrug, staring into his eyes. “It might take some time but I’m sure you won’t put up much of a fight given your current state.”

He pulled his head away from her grasp. She grabbed his hair instead and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t think I won’t,” she said firmly. “The debtors, Gortash, Hope… I like you, Raphael, but you have a lot of skeletons in your closet, and it would be better for my consciousness to simply end you here and now.”

Something changed in his eyes. It was difficult to pinpoint what exactly, but there was something. She looked him over, simply basking in the view for a moment. This persistent bastard who had followed them around and flaunted his superiority at every given opportunity, was now on his knees, at her mercy. Her eyes landed on his lap where there was a not-so-discreet bulge in his pants. His eyes followed hers and then he looked up at her. She raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting reaction…” she said.

His eyes narrowed at her, and he let out another annoyed growl. She smiled brightly at him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Did you want to say something?”

She slipped a finger under the fabric wrapped around his mouth and pulled it down.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said with a sneer. “As for your contract and the terms for—”

“Oh, no no,” she said and put a finger to his lips. “Let’s put a pin in that for a moment. I am much more interested in what’s going on here right now.”

She gestured to his lap with her other hand. He surprised her by snapping his teeth at the finger pressed to his mouth. She moved it away just in time. Her eyes lit up in amusement before she slapped him hard across the face for the gesture. His eyes widened and fury washed over his features for a moment, as if he could not believe her audacity. His cock seemed to be of another opinion as it only seemed to strain even more against the fabric of his pants. Her head was flooded with ideas to turn this to her advantage. Her smile got wider.

“Tell me more about the contract,” she said.

“Why would I annul it when I am in my right to claim what you have freely handed over to me?” he asked calmly, though she could hear that he was somewhat more distracted than before. “Your feeble-minded actions lead you—”

He let out a small breath when she placed her boot on his thigh, pressing the tip of it against his erection. The way his hips jerked involuntarily to feel more friction did not go unnoticed.

“You are playing with fire, my dear,” he grumbled and looked up at her.

“Mm…” she hummed in a delighted tone and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Please continue.”

His eyes followed the movement of her hands with a hungry gaze and his hips jerked once again. She applied slightly more pressure with her boot, making him hold back a groan.

“Killing me will not get you what you want,” he explained, his voice a bit breathier than before. “In the case the drafter of the contract dies, the soul will still go to the Hells. The only difference is that it will instead go to the Archdevil who ruled over said drafter.”

“Fascinating,” she said and threw her shirt on the ground. “But?”

“But what?” he asked. “Which part of this is confusing to you? I will not annul your contract. I have no reason to do so. You did not fulfill it, so your soul is mine.”

She discarded her bra too. It became increasingly hard for him to keep his eyes on hers instead of on her bare skin. She untied her pants too.

“I’m afraid that simply won’t do,” she said.

She removed her foot from his crotch to take off the rest of her clothes.

“My dear, it is awfully kind of you to give me a show,” he said in that smooth voice of his, pretending to be uninterested. “But I was alive long before your great grandparents were but a twinkle in their fathers’ eyes. There is nothing to find under those distasteful scraps of clothing of yours that I have not seen before, and it will not sway me to give you what you want.”

She smiled at him and made a show of keeping eye contact with him as she bent over to slide down her panties. She threw those on the floor too. She was standing completely naked in front of him. Despite how much he wanted to act like it did not affect him, he still struggled to keep his eyes on her face. She walked closer to him until she was standing right in front of him, looking down at him. She saw how his nostrils flared as he discreetly tried to take in the scent of her sex now that it was so close to his face.

“We’ll see about that,” she said with a smile. “What do you want, Raphael?”

She crouched down so that they were face to face. She kept looking at him as she began unbuttoning his doublet and the shirt under it.

“You know what I want,” he said. “You have given what I want to a goddess who will only squander its potential.”

His eyes looked almost completely black with the way his pupils were dilated. She pulled the fabrics aside so she could see his chest.

“Yes, yes,” she said. “But you must want other things too, no? I think you once told me that greed was your favorite virtue.”

She ran her hand down the length of his chest until she got to the ties of his pants. She untied them and pulled them down to reveal his painfully hard cock. There were already beads of precum dripping from the tip.

“I want many things, my dear,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

“Mm,” she said and ran a finger up his shaft, making his breath hitch. “Though something in particular in this moment, I’d wager. Tell me what it is, and I might give you what you want. I expect something in return, though.”

She stroked him and ran her thumb over a particularly sensitive spot at his tip, making his hips jerk. He growled.

“If it is your intention to make me beg, I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you,” he said.

She smiled at him

“Wrong answer,” she said and let go of him.

She stood up. She positioned herself in front of him and grabbed one of his horns. She slung her leg over his shoulder and yanked his head back so that he was looking up at her.

“You will not want to know what I’ll do to you if you decide to try and bite me again,” she warned before shoving his face into her cunt.

Despite the small grunt of protest as she did so, she could tell that he was into it. She felt his nose against her clit, and she could hear how he was breathing in the scent of her. He angled his face so that he could be even closer. She looked at the chains as he yanked at them, desperate to touch her too. His forked tongue was eagerly tasting her. He growled against her, the rumble of it feeling amazing.

“You are surprisingly good at this,” she said between soft moans. “Especially considering you’ve only been fucking a copy of yourself for gods know how long…”

He looked up at her from between her legs with a pointed look.

“Yes, I’ve met Haarlep,” she said with a smile.

He licked a stripe up her slit and then turned his head slightly to bite her inner thigh for the comment. It was a firm bite that would probably leave a mark. She yanked his horn.

“Ah-ah,” she warned firmly. “What did I say?”

She could feel him smirk against her before he buried his wonderfully long tongue inside her again, making her moan. She ran her fingers through his hair with her free hand.

“Very good,” she praised. “Much better.”

His cock twitched at her praise, and he buried his face even deeper into her cunt. Honestly, had she known before hand that it was this easy to shut him up, she would have done it much earlier. It did not take long before she was about to fall over the edge. Raphael knew and eagerly tried to push her over it with his tongue. She held onto his jagged horns and almost lost her balance when she came hard on his face. He made a sinful slurping noise as if to taste as much of her wetness as possible before pulling his face away from her.

“Very, very good,” she praised and looked down at his cock that was leaking with precum. “Do you feel like begging yet?”

He was a sight. His face was glistening with her juices, his hair disheveled as he looked up at her with dark eyes.

“I don’t beg,” he said, though his tone seemed less strong in its conviction than earlier.

She leaned down to his face. His dark eyes followed every movement. They flicked down to her mouth as she licked some of her own juices off the corner of his mouth. He turned his face to catch her lips, but she moved away with a smile. He smiled too.

“Oh, the things I plan to do to you when I am out of these chains…” he growled.

“Mm,” she hummed amused. “I guess we will never know if you keep being so stubborn.”

She lowered herself to sit on his lap. He adjusted himself and spread his legs slightly so she could sit there. She wrapped her arms around his neck and positioned herself so she could grind herself against his cock. He bucked his hips against her. Her hand quickly grabbed his hair and yanked.

“No,” she warned and leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “You get nothing before I hear you beg for it.”

He groaned in frustration. She slowly moved her hips, spreading her wetness over his cock as his shaft pressed against her slit. His breathing became shallower, and his hips bucked again. She tightened her grip on his hair and bit his earlobe firmly.

“Beg,” she purred into his ear.

“Please,” he growled grudgingly.

“Oh, you can do better than that, surely,” she said. “Please what?”

Another frustrated growl.

“Please, let me come inside of you,” he said.

“Much better,” she said. “Very good. And you will annul my contract?”

Her hand snaked between them, and she positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. She lowered herself onto it, making him growl deeply into her ear. She took all of him, but she did not move just yet. She was waiting for an answer.

“Surely we can wait to speak of such matters until after,” he said with just a tiny hint of pleading in his voice.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” she said. “I need an answer now.”

He did not answer. She made a move to get off him and he strained against his restrains.

“Fine, fine,” he said hurriedly. “I will annul your contract, you insufferable whelp. Just—”

He fell quiet and a small moan escaped him as she slid down on his cock again. She smiled and began riding him at a slow pace. He groaned deeply in pleasure.

“Do you promise?” she asked.

“I always keep my word,” he groaned. “Unlike someone else I know.”

He leaned forward to kiss her neck. She let him. The second she felt his teeth wanting to mark her, she moved just out of reach. Her smile widened as she teased him.

“Enjoy this little sliver of power over me while you can, mouse,” he warned. “I can promise you that it ends the moment you let me out of these chains, and you best hope you can outrun me, or I will chain you to my bed and make you pay me back tenfold for all of this.”

She rode him faster, making him moan deeply. No matter how much he pretended to hate not being in control, his body told a whole different story. She yanked his head back to bite and suck at his neck. His breathing got even more out of control. He was getting close.

“Do you want to cum inside me?” she purred into his ear.

“Yes,” he breathed without hesitation.

“Beg,” she said.

“Please,” he pleaded, a hint of fear that she would stop what she was doing if he did not. “Please—”

He finally came with a deep groan. She felt his hips buck against her, burying himself in her as he came deep inside her. It took a while for his breathing to become steady again. She got off him. She admired how absolutely ruined he looked with his disheveled appearance as she put on her clothes. How his shirt was open and how his used cock was resting against his pants, glistening from their combined juices. It was exceedingly satisfying to see the usually prim and proper devil looking like such an utter mess.

She grabbed the Orphic Hammer from her bag and smashed his chains. He rubbed his wrists and then got up from the ground. He ran a hand through his hair and stuffed his cock back in his pants before adjusting the rest of his clothing. She smiled at him.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” she said with a mock bow. “I trust you’ll keep your word with my contract, like you promised.”

She handed him the hammer. He took it and snapped his fingers, making it disappear in a flash of flames.

“Oh, I will,” he said, looking at her with a dangerous smile. “Once I am done with you, like I promised. I will even give you a head start, since I am feeling in a generous mood today,” he said, repeating the same words she had used earlier. “You better start running, little mouse.”

[earthshine-moon]

The Fëanorians’ names

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and I wanted all of their names and etymologies in one place so I thought I’d share it ❤️

Feel free to let me know in the notes if I’ve missed any or gotten anything wrong

Maedhros

The Tall (sobriquet)

Nelyafinwë (fn, Quenya) - ‘third Finwë’

Nelyo (s fn, Q) - ‘third’

Maitimo (mn, Q) - ‘well-shaped one’

Russandol (epessë, Q) - ‘copper-top’ (from russa - ‘red-haired’). Given by his brothers due to his red hair. He also wore a copper circlet

Maedhros (Sindarin) - from maed - ‘shapely’ and ross - ‘red-haired’. Derived from Maitimo and Russandol

Maedros (S) - proper spelling of Maedhros due to the etymology

Maidhros/Maedhros (Noldorin) - ‘pale-glitter’ (from maidh - ‘pale’ / ‘fallow’ / ‘fawn’ and rhoss - ‘flash’ / ‘glitter of metal’)

Maglor

The Minstrel (s)

Kanafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘strong-voiced Finwë’

Kano (s fn, Q) - ‘commander’ / ‘crier’ / ‘herald’

Macalaurë (mn, Q) - ‘forging gold’ / ‘gold-cleaver’. Prophetic reference to his harping skill with laurë being poetic and not referring to the metal

Maglor (S) - ‘forging gold’ (from Macalaurë)

Magalor (pure S rendition) - presumably ‘forging gold’ (from Macalaurë)

Maglor (N) - ‘gold-cleaver’ (from Macalaurë)

Celegorm

The Fair (s)

Turcafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘strong, powerful (in body) Finwë’

Turco (s fn, Q) - ‘strong, powerful (in body)’ / ‘chief’

Tyelcormo (mn, Q) - ‘hasty-riser’. Reference to his quick temper and habit of standing up when angry (from tyelka - ‘hasty’ and (I think) ormë - ‘haste’ / ‘violence’ / ‘rushing’)

Celegorm (S) - ‘hasty riser’ (from Tyelcormo). North Sindarin as it keeps the m

Celegorn (N) - presumably ‘swift-impetuous’

Celecormë (Q) - early form of Quenya version of Celegorm. Relating to Oromë

Caranthir

The Dark (s)

Morifinwë (fn, Q) - ‘dark Finwë’. Referring to his black hair inherited from Finwë

Moryo (s fn, Q) - from morë - ‘black’ / ‘dark’ / ‘darkness’

Carnistir (mn, Q) - ‘red-face’. Referring to his ruddy complexion inherited from Nerdanel

Caranthir (S) - ‘red-face’ (from Carnistir)

Cranthir / Cranthor (N) - ‘perfect’

Curufin

The Crafty (s)

Curufinwë (fn, Q) - ‘skilful Finwë’. Fëanor’s father-name. Given because Curufin was his father’s favourite and most like him in looks and mind

Curvo (s fn, Q) - ‘skill’ (from curu)

Atarincë (mn, Q) - ‘little father’. Referring to his resemblance to his father in both looks and mind

Curufin (S) - from curu - ‘skill’ and fin - Sindinarised Finwë

Cyrefinn Facensearo (Old English) - translation of his name in The Earliest Annals of Valinor. Defined as cyre - ‘choice’, facen - ‘deceit, guile, wickedness’, searu - ‘skill, cunning’, facensearu - ‘treachery’

For reference: Amrod is noted as the older twin for most of the legendarium. Inverted in a later story when Tolkien was working out the etymology of their names when he also changed Amrod’s fate

Amrod

huntan (s) - ‘the hunters’. Collectively known as in The Earliest Annals of Valinor

Pityafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘little Finwë’. Name of the older twin

Pityo (s fn, Q) - ‘little’ (from pitya)

Ambarto (mn, Q) - amba - ‘up’ / ‘upwards’ / ‘top’ and arata - ‘high’ / ‘noble’ / ‘exalted’ / ‘lofty’ / ‘excellent’

Minyarussa (Q) - ‘first-russa’. Called by others

Ambarussa (Q) - ‘top-russet’. Name they called each other

Umbarto (Q) - ‘fated’ (masculinised form of umbar - ‘fate’. In the 12th volume of The History of Middle-earth, it was given by Nerdanel after Fëanor begged for their names to be different. He changed it to Ambarto and gave it to the youngest twin. Used by no one

Damrod (Q) - Noldorin translation of the Qenya name Nambarauto (from namba - ‘to hammer’ and rauta - ‘metal’). Used in earlier Silmarillion material

Déormód (OE) - ‘brave-hearted’. Translation of Damrod

Amras

huntan (s) - ‘the hunters’. Collectively known as in The Earliest Annals of Valinor

Telufinwë (fn, Q) - ‘last Finwë’. Name of the younger twin

Telvo (s fn, Q) - ‘last’ / ‘final’ (from telda)

Ambarussa (mn, Q) - ‘top-russet’. Also the name they called each other

Atyarussa (Q) - ‘second-russa’. Called by others

Diriel (Exilic Noldorin) - derived from the Old Noldorin name Dirghel (from dîr - ‘adult male’ (of any race) and gel - ‘joy’ / ‘shout’ / ‘triumph’)

Maithog / Mailweg - possible initial names for Amras before written over with either Dinithel or Durithel

Tirgeld (OE) - from tîr - ‘glory’ and geld - ‘gild’ (in names meaning ‘of worth’)

[tikosblogg]

A Helping Hand Pt 2.

Part 1 Here

Summary: Noah ghosts you, so you decide to find someone else to help you out. Until…

Warning: SMUT. PIV sex. Rough sex, Virginity loss, Dom!noah, sub!reader, unprotected sex(a big no no), TINY bit of degradation, spanking.

A/N: ya’ll…..I ain’t even gonna lie….i got carried away there…but I love this one. I did good with this one if I do say so myself! I hope you guys like it just as much!!❤️ not proof read I apologize it’s once again 2AM🥹

It’s been a whole week since I’ve seen or spoken to Noah. We had exchanged numbers before he left my apartment that night. Claiming he would talk to me soon. yet it’s been nothing but radio silence. I decided to not tell my friends, since Noah obviously changed his mind about the whole thing. I didn’t want to be hammered with questions, or it was embarrassing enough that I was ghosted I didn’t wanna talk about it. So I just stayed quiet. The girls were invited to one of the campus frat parties tonight, and asked me to come a long. Since it was a Friday, and I had no other plans I decided to go.

We got ready, and headed to the fraternity house. Once we get there, the house is packed, over flowing with drunk and rowdy college kids. The music is so loud it shook the entire house. We got our drinks, and socialized with other people just having a good time. After about an hour, I excused myself from the group of people we were talking to, to grab another drink.

As I stood at the makeshift bar in the cramped kitchen, the deafening bass of the music thudded around me. People were laughing, shouting, and stumbling through the narrow hallways, creating an adrenaline-fueled chaos that was just the kind of distraction I needed after a week of nothing from Noah. I thought we had shared a spark, a connection so intense that I could still feel the electricity humming in my veins, but it felt like I had been left hanging in the void since he walked out of my apartment that night.

"Hey there, beautiful," a voice interrupted my thoughts, making me jump. I turned around to see a guy standing there, blonde tousled hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a smile that instantly disarmed me. “I’m Jake. What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” I replied, trying to appear casual even though my stomach flipped. I couldn’t help but notice how he leaned in closer as he spoke, filling the space between us with an undeniable tension.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. You know, you might just be the most gorgeous person in this whole room,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. I felt my cheeks flush ,it had been a while since someone had directed attention toward me like that, other than Noah of course. “What brings you here?”

“Just hanging out with some friends,” I said, glancing over at Layna and Clara, who were busy talking and flirting with a group of guys. “What about you?”

“Same. Just trying to find a reason to stick around this party.” He smirked, leaning on the counter beside me. “I’d say I found it.”

His confidence was intoxicating. I couldn’t shake the memories of Noah's smile and tender words, but part of me wondered if maybe Jake could provide a nice distraction.

I hesitated, thinking about how Noah had claimed he'd “talk to me soon”. The weight of that silence felt almost like a betrayal. I could feel Jake’s gaze sharpening, as if he read the conflict in my eyes. “Why don’t we grab a drink somewhere quieter?” he suggested, the invitation both thrilling and terrifying.

“Sure.” I decided then and there to let go of Noah's lingering presence. Maybe I was being impulsive, but I was tired of waiting for someone who had left me hanging. Besides, a one night stand sounds like exactly what I need.

Jake led me out of the chaotic kitchen, through the crowded living room, and up the stairs into a random bedroom. The bass was muffled here, allowing us space to talk without shouting. I took a seat on the neatly made bed, finally allowing my guard to drop a little. I looked around the room, the lighting a dull blue color from the LEDs hung around the ceiling. In front of the bed against the wall, was a desk with an expensive looking PC set up. Lastly to my right, was a sliding closet door, that doubled as a mirror, the entire length of the wall.

I looked back at Jake his body language was confident as he walked closer, taking a seat beside me. drawing me in with his lively aura and unyielding charm.

We talked for a few minutes, his hand sliding up my bare thigh, inching closer and closer to the hem of my blue Jean skirt. He started to lean forward Until the bedroom door slammed open, making us jump apart.

Noah stood there, his silhouette framed in the doorway, a furious glint in his eyes that pierced through the dimness. The atmosphere shifted, the warmth between Jake and me evaporating like fog.

“Get the fuck out.” Noah’s voice was low, and dangerous. He shifted his weight, fists clenched at his sides, and his stance radiated authority. It was the kind of rage that felt palpable, as if it could reach out and strangle one of us, and from the looks of it… it would be Jake.

Jake sprang to his feet, a defiant smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension. “I’m busy, man. Why don’t you find another room?” He gestured dismissively.

Noah took a daunting step closer, towering over Jake, his presence like a shadow looming over us. “This is my room, dickhead. Get the fuck out.” His voice cut like glass—sharp, brittle, and full of anger.

“Whatever,” Jake countered, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes, a flicker of nerves darting beneath his bravado. His gaze moved to me, encouraging me to follow him, to leave Noah’s fury behind. But the moment my ass left the mattress, his hard gaze reached mine.

“Sit down,” Noah growled, his tone turning as fierce as a thunderstorm. Alarm, mixed with curiosity coursed through me as I complied instinctively, my heart racing. There was something possessive in his eyes, something primal, and it sent a shiver rippling through me. My cheeks flushed crimson, a rush of embarrassment kindling between the anger and the flickering desire I thought I had just moments before.

Jake grimaced, clearly irritated, and I could see the tension rippling across his shoulders like a taut bowstring. “Fuck that! She’s with me!” There was an edge to his voice as he shot a defiant glare at Noah, stepping forward, seeming ready for a confrontation.

Before I could register what was happening, Noah harshly shoved Jake out of the room almost effortlessly, his strength undeniable. “Not anymore.” The door slammed shut, the finality of it echoing like a gunshot in the suddenly quiet space.

I sat there, heart pounding as the silence enveloped me. It felt so wrong but so thrilling at the same time—the unyielding power Noah had in that moment, the way he took control without hesitation. I could hear Jake’s frustrated mutters on the other side of the door, mixed with the still pounding bass of the music being played throughout the house, but it faded into white noise, overtaken by the thumping of my heart and the electric tension hanging between Noah and me.

Noah turned to me slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. “Are you okay?” His voice lowered, a flicker of concern breaking through the anger.

“I... I’m fine,” I stammered, grappling for something to steady my racing thoughts. But my gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet his intense stare.

He stepped closer, the space left between us melting away like ice in the sun. “You know he doesn’t care about you, right?” His voice was firm, and there was something heartfelt buried in the fierce facade.

I glanced up, the conflict swirling inside me, a humorless laugh leaving my mouth. “Oh and you do?” I couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. Yet, I couldn’t ignore, the way my skin prickled with anticipation.

His brow furrowed slightly, confusion knitted with concern as he sought my eyes. “What do you mean? Of course I do.”

The sincerity in his words throbbed in the air, making the small room feel larger, the weight of his gaze pulling me in. I took a deep breath, drowning in the torrent of emotions swirling around us. Noah stepped closer, and the walls felt like they were closing in, the space between us charged with something unnameable.

“Oh so that’s why you completely disappeared on me?” I hissed, hurt overshadowing any anger I felt. “You said you were gonna help me out, and then just left me hanging! So I went found someone else, so what?” I glared at him, as he just stood there silently.

His expression shifted. At first, it was just surprise, but as I spoke, a spark of annoyance flickered in his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. “So that’s what this is about? You’re such a desperate whore, you couldn’t go a few days without me? You had to find some stupid dickhead to replace me?”

His words hung in the air, taunting and challenging me. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own admission suffocate my pride. Any other time, I would punch a guy for calling me such a degrading name, but coming from Noah’s lips…it only made me want to completely submit to him. Fall to my knees, and let him do whatever he wanted to with me. My self respect has left the chat.

Before I could respond, he reached behind him locking the door. The sound reverberated in my chest, both thrilling and foreboding. “It’s pathetic actually…You really think anyone else will make you feel as good as I do?”

Noah stepped closer, invading my space, and suddenly the atmosphere was full of suffocating tension. A tension that crackled between us, charging the air with an unmistakable heat. We were almost chest to chest—his breath mingling with the faint scent of his cologne lingering on his skin. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, pulling me in like gravity.

Time felt suspended as he scrutinized my face, searching for honesty in my eyes. And then, without warning, his hand shot up, gripping my throat with a gentleness that belied his strength. I felt my heart race. I was trapped yet electrified; a paradox I could hardly understand.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and steady, sending shivers down my spine. “Admit that you don’t want me to fuck you.”

The words hung thickly in the air, woven through my thoughts like a tangled cord. I wanted to deny it—to hold onto the shreds of my resolve. But the truth was there, dancing just out of reach. I could feel the heat pooling in the pit of my stomach, the yearning I had buried beneath annoyance and pride.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted to hate him for making me feel this way, for ghosting me, and for showing up like this with his magnetic pull. But I couldn’t shake the undeniable truth every second we stood here only deepened my desire for him.

His grip tightened slightly, pulling me closer to him. “You can’t lie to me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto mine, dark and smoldering. “You want me…not him.”

A shaky breath escaped me, and I finally nodded, barely able to speak. “I—” I faltered, not wanting to make the admission, but it was too late. The warmth of his body pressed against mine ignited everything I had been trying to suppress, and I was suffocated by the truth.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against mine. “Say it.”

A rush of vulnerability flooded through me, and I broke. “I want you to fuck me.” The admission slipped from my lips, both thrilling and terrifying.

Noah’s grip loosened, just enough for me to feel the shift as he realized the power he held. The annoyance morphed into a smirk as he stepped back, putting space between us but retaining an air of challenge.

“Was that so hard?” he asked, that familiar teasing smile, and spark in his gaze igniting a fire in my chest. “I-I’m sorry” I whimpered, not even sure what about, all I know is that I want him now, and if apologizing is what I have to do to have him, then I’ll do it a million times more.

His sheer dominance pulling me back into the orbit of his presence. In that moment, the game shifted. I was no longer the pursuer, but a willing participant in his teasing game.

I felt my heart race, a mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through my veins as Noah’s grip on my throat loosened just enough for me to breathe but still held enough power that I didn't want to struggle.

He leaned in, finally kissing me with so much heat. The kiss was demanding, igniting a fire deep within me. I melted into the intensity, surrendering to the moment. As his hand flew into the back of my hair, pushing me down to my knees, my senses sharpened. The warmth of his presence enveloped me, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as he settled on the edge of the bed.

With one swift motion, he pulled me closer, positioning me between his thighs. His fingers tangled in my hair, a mix of lust and control flowing between us. I looked up at him, and my breath caught in my throat as our eyes locked—a swirling storm of desire and dominance mirrored in his gaze.

His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, a teasing gesture that made me whimper in response. It ignited something deep within me, a craving that begged to be satisfied. But amidst this whirlwind of emotions, he grounded me with a question that cut through the haze “What’s your safe word?”

My heart raced. The thrill was intoxicating, yet the responsibility of consenting to this moment made my body tingle with anticipation. “Red,” I breathed out, the word heavy with meaning. It was a signal of trust, a boundary I was both eager to explore and determined to protect.

Noah smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Good choice.” His lips attacked mine again, before he pulled away, our lips barely brushing, his breath warm against them as he whispered, “now show me how sorry you are.”

I timidly nodded my head, before reaching for his pants pausing. I quickly looked up, nerves and insecurities suddenly filling my body. He must’ve noticed my sudden change in demeanor, as his hand softly cupped my cheek, bringing my eyes to look directly into his. “What is baby?”

His dominate aura suddenly changed, his voice now softer. His thumb rubbed against my cheek back and forth, waiting for my response. “I just- I’ve never done…” my sentence cut short, as anxiety of not being good enough entered my thoughts. His voice suddenly bringing me back to the present.

“Hey…I’ll help you..just take your time. Don’t force it okay?” I nodded, as all the bad thoughts started to slowly dissipate. I’m safe. He knows I’m new to this. This is why we are doing this. I gave myself a short pep talk, and reached for his pants again.

He slightly lifted his hips, as I dragged his pants and boxers down just enough. When is dick finally released from its confines, he sighed in relief. My eyes widened, at the sight. He was huge. I was instantly intimidated, but didn’t let it show. I carefully reached up, wrapping my hand around him, my already small hand looking even tinier compared to it.

I slowly stroked my hand, up and down his length as he groaned above me. “Fuck baby, just like that.” His praise gave me a new found confidence, as I slowly leaned down kitten licking his painfully red tip. He moaned again, his hand finding my hair once more, gripping it softly.

The sounds leaving his lips, only made me want to hear more. I opened my mouth wide, as I took him into my mouth as far as I could. Once he hit the back of my throat I hollowed my cheeks sucking softly, before dragging my lips back up. He threw his back, releasing another loud groan. “Holy fuck y/n..” I did it again, this time stroking the rest of him that my mouth couldn’t reach, with my hand.

His grip on my hair tightened, as I let him take control. I propped my hands on each of his muscular thighs, keeping my mouth hovering over his dick. In time, his hips were thrusting as he fucked my mouth.

I moaned, and gagged around him letting him use me as he pleased. My panties no doubt soaked at this point. Tears were falling down my cheeks, as he suddenly pulled my mouth off of him. With his grip still tight in my hair, he turned my face to the right. With tear filled eyes, I saw my reflection staring back at me. “Look at yourself” he hissed, his dominant side coming back out to play.

I was a mess. I had mascara streaked down my face, from my tears. My shimmery lips gloss smeared across my cheeks. My hair looked like I had walked through a wind storm….but I loved it. I felt sexy.

He pulled my face back towards him, as he leaned down shoving his tongue damn near down my throat. I whined, as I sucked his tongue softly. It drove him fucking crazy. He stood up, pulling me from the floor, and onto his bed.

When my back hit the mattress, he was on top of me instantly. He grabbed my shirt pulling it off, before basically ripping my bra from my body. Next went my skirt, and panties. Throwing them somewhere in the room, he leaned down taking my nipple in his mouth.

I gasped, as he softly sucked it while squeezing my other tit in his hand. I felt warmth spread across my skin the longer he sucked and nipped at my tits, each rough touch igniting a fire at my throbbing cunt. I shivered, turned on more than I have ever been in my life, a flush spreading across my cheeks as I caught his gaze.

Noah pulled back, his lips hovering tantalizingly close. His breath fanning my skin as he began to taunt me, his voice low and rough. “You like that baby?“ he whispered, the dominance in his voice sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. “You think he could have made you feel like this?.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to articulate the jumbled emotions swirling within me, but no words came. Instead, I shook my head slightly, my heart racing as I whimpered. He smirked, a knowing smile that made my breath hitch in my throat.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his tone dropping an octave, lacing his words with a challenge. It was his way of pulling me deeper, inviting me to surrender myself completely. My mind raced through a hundred possibilities, and each one was wrapped in the comfort of him.

“You,” I managed to breathe out, the word escaping my lips like a secret.

“Good answer,” he said, his grin widening over a shared understanding. He leaned closer again, capturing my gaze with his, with a final kiss and I felt anchored, surrounded by his intensity.

He lightly drug his tongue, from between my breasts down my stomach, to the very top of my aching cunt. I groaned his name, softly bucking my hips up. He smiled, before poking his tongue out, and running slowly over my sensitive clit.

I gasped, arching my back against the mattress. My hands instantly finding his hair. “Fuck I’ve missed this pussy.” Before I could say another word, his two middle fingers sank into me. He wasted no time, pumping them hard and fast.

“Fuck Noahhhh.” I whined, as he continued his thrusts, his face coming to hover over mine. “This sweet pussy is mine, right baby? His voice still held that dominant tone, but almost sounded like a whine. Just that could have made explode, but I held back.

He snatched his fingers away, making my head shoot up in confusion, before his hand came down smacking my already throbbing pussy, with his hand. I gasped, my body tensing at the new found pleasure filling my body. “Answer me.”

He growled, shoving his fingers back into me. I nodded my head, before releasing a breathless “yes..” rutting my hips against his skilled fingers. Another smack landed on my clit, before his deep voice filled the air again. “Yes what?”

So lost in the feeling, I said the first thing that came to mind as I gasped at the sharp sting against my clit “Yessir” he smirked, sitting up on his knees. “Good girl.” His shoved his fingers into his mouth, groaning at my taste.

I whined at the loss of his touch, as he watched from above me. A cocky smirk on his face. “I’m not even touching you anymore, and you’re still going crazy for me.” I panted beneath him, meeting his dark eyes. “Please Noah…I need you.” I cried, desperately wanting to feel his touch again.

He wasted no more time, taking his shirt off and kicking his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, throwing them somewhere behind him. I marveled at his hard muscular body, completely covered in beautiful tattoos. He himself was a work of art, I couldn’t help but appreciate.

He leaned down, capturing my lips in another kiss, as we both just tasted each other. The rest of his body, lowered onto me. I widened my thighs as far as I could, so I could feel him completely. His hips bucked softly, dragging his cock through my folds at an achingly slow pace.

His lips left mine, as we both panted. He reached down, sliding an arm under the bend of my right knee pushing it up and against my chest. Spreading me open for him.

He just looked at me for a moment, trying to read my face. I quickly nodded, pulling him into a soft kiss. “Please” I whispered up at him, ready to finally feel him inside of me.

He dropped his head into the crook of my neck, leaving soft nips and kisses as he slowly pushed inside of. I groaned at the stretch, my pussy welcoming the new feeling. He groaned into my neck, the deeper he got.

Once he was completely bottomed out, he sat still. He pulled his face from my neck, the look in his eyes burning into mine. I could see the way he was fighting with himself not to lose control and fuck the shit out of me.

But I wanted him to. I loved the pleasure, and the pain that came with it. I nodded my head confidently, as his resolve started to crack. I brought his lips close to mine, brushing against them as I spoke. “Don’t hold back.”

His whole demeanor went dark, before he pulled his hips back, slamming them back against mine with a small grunt. I gasped, my nails clawing down his back. I felt so full, and never wanted to lose that feeling that only he could give me.

“You’re so fucking tight baby.” He groaned, as he continued roughly snapping his hips against mine. I whimpered, running my hands up his back and intertwining them behind his neck. He laid his forehead against mine, as we breathed each other in.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling out of me. I released a whine, at the sudden empty feeling. He grabbed my sides sliding me up to the middle of the mattress, before rolling me onto my side facing the mirror.

I was confused, before he quickly slid up behind me, pulling my body flush against his chest, and sliding back into me with a low groan. The sight was beautiful. He propped up on his elbow, so he could see over me, as his other hand grabbed my thigh lifting it up.

Holding my thigh up, gave me a clear view of his cock pumping in and out of me roughly. It was erotic, so hot. He has ruined me, in the best way possible. His eyes met mine in the mirror, as a smile slowly formed on his face. He thoroughly enjoyed the fucked out mess he saw in the mirror.

His hand that was holding my thigh, slowly slid up my body, as I kept it up myself, not wanting to lose the perfect view of him completely destroying my pussy. His hand continued its path up my body, pausing at my tit to give it a firm squeeze, before moving up again.

His large hand finally made it to its destination, firmly gripping my throat. He turned my head the slightest bit towards him, his lips brushing against my tear stained cheek as he roughly spoke. “Look how pretty you are, taking my cock like a good girl.”

Nothing but a whine of his name left my lips, too fucked out to form words. His thrusts sped up, his hips slapping against my ass, roughly. “So fucking pretty, huh? Say it.” He growled against my cheek, before turning my face back towards the mirror.

“Say it! His voice rose in volume, his thrusts never letting up. I panted, watching our bodies in the mirror, before staring myself in the face. “I’m— oh fuckkk- I’m so pretty.” I whined, as my eyes met his smirking face.

“Thats fucking right baby, my pretty little slut.” He breathed, his fingers tightening a bit more around my throat, slowing down my blood flow, making my head feel fuzzy. “ All fucking mine.” I nodded slightly the best I could, agreeing with him. Nobody would ever compare to Noah. I’ll forever be his.

After a few more rough thrusts of his hips, he pulled out again, shoving me onto my stomach, and pulling my hips up. His hand shoved my back down, making me arch my ass as high as I could. Without another word, he thrusted back into me.

His hips pounded into me, while he reached his hand around me rubbing his fingers against my clit. I pulled my face out of the sheets, catching his eyes in the mirror for the tenth time. Moaning at the sight of him. His brows were furrowed in pleasure, his face and body covered in a sheen of sweat.

His eyes blown out, almost black. His teeth caught his bottom lip, as he watched my face twist with pleasure. My jaw hung open, basically drooling. I could tell he loved the sight of me like this, which only egged him on.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asked, with an almost mocking tone. My eyes closed in bliss, before is other hand came down, leaving a harsh slap on my ass. My eyes shot back open, as they found the mirror again. “Fucking watch yourself. Watch yourself fall apart for me.” He grunted, as I kept my eyes on myself in the mirror.

I was a complete fucking wreck, and I loved it. His fingers pressed harder against my clit, and I felt my orgasm reaching its peak. “Fuck noah..yes yes yes please.” I cried out, as my body shook finally releasing all over him.

Noah groaned, as he continued fucking me through my high. My face fell into the mattress, as his thrusts became sloppy, finally finishing right after me. He groaned, as his hips slowly came to a stop. We were both panting loudly, as he bent forward, leaving a soft kiss on my spine.

He slowly pulled out, making me whine at the loss. I slowly turned over, both of us staring at each other before breaking into stupid smiles. I giggled as he pulled over to him, kissing my lips, nose, and forehead. He stood up, walking over to the bathroom, and grabbing a towel.

After wiping us off, he threw the towel in his hamper, and pulled on his boxers. He bent over grabbing his shirt, and walking over to me slipping it on me. I smiled, as he crawled back into bed, placing the blanket over us. I turned to face him, with a small smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back before shaking his head. “Don’t thank me… I think we both know this was more than just me giving you a helping hand.” His hand came up, softly brushing a piece of hair from my face cupping my cheek. He leaned in placing a soft lingering kiss to my lips.

He pulled back, his thumb softly caressing my cheek. I smiled at him, softly nuzzling my face into his warm palm. He’s right. This was so much more than that….and I don’t mind it one bit.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

cute

pair: tom!Peter Parker x reader

summery: Peter tries to ask y/n(she/her) out but he gets all flustered and shy and stumbles in words a lot but she thinks it's cute

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Peter Parker was not nervous. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he wiped his clammy hands on his jeans for the hundredth time. It was just Y/N. Y/N, who he’d known for years. Y/N, who had the best laugh and always knew when he needed a little extra help in math. Y/N, who was sitting right in front of him, completely unaware that Peter’s heart was doing somersaults.

He could totally do this. He had to do this. After all, it wasn’t like he could keep accidentally spilling his feelings during every awkward conversation they had. She glanced up from her notebook, her lips curling into a soft smile as she caught him staring. “Hey, you good, Peter?”

“Y-yeah!” he stammered, his voice coming out a little too high. “Totally! Why wouldn’t I be good? I’m great, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly, amusement flickering across her face. She had that effect on him — making him feel both comfortable and utterly flustered at the same time.

Peter bit his lip, silently urging his brain to function. It wasn’t like he was trying to ask her to solve a quantum physics equation. All he needed to do was ask her out. Simple. Easy. Just six words: “Do you want to go out?”

But of course, nothing with Peter Parker was ever that simple.

“So, um, Y/N,” he began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I was thinking... or, well, not thinking — I mean, I do think. A lot, actually. But, uh, I’ve been, you know, noticing things. Like, um, we’ve been friends for a long time, right? And, uh, I was wondering if— if maybe, like, sometime if you’re not too busy, or, um, even if you are busy, I mean, I’d understand if you are — I mean, you’re always busy, not that it’s a bad thing! You’re just really... uh... organized? No, that’s not the word…”

Y/N blinked, watching him with that same gentle smile, patiently waiting for him to continue. Peter felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

“But what I’m trying to say is,” he inhaled sharply, his heart hammering in his chest, “would you— do you want— would you maybe want to, like, do something? With me? Together? As in... not as friends... I mean, we can still be friends, obviously! I just... like, more than friends?”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, cringing at his own stumbling. This was going horribly. Why couldn’t he just speak like a normal human being?

When he finally dared to open his eyes, Y/N’s expression hadn’t changed. She was still smiling, her gaze warm and kind, but there was something else there too. Something soft and almost... endeared?

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Was she laughing at him?

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. “That was a mess. I’ll just—”

“Peter,” Y/N interrupted gently.

He froze, his hands still half-covering his face as he peeked at her through his fingers. “Y-yeah?”

“Are you trying to ask me out?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, though her eyes were filled with nothing but kindness.

Peter felt his entire face flush. “Y-yes?”

Her smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly, biting back a laugh. “And you want me to say yes, right?”

He nodded furiously, mentally kicking himself for being so obvious.

“Well...” Y/N paused, dragging out the silence just enough to make his heart race even more. “In that case, yes. I’d love to.”

Peter blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with her words. “Wait... really?”

She laughed softly, reaching out to gently nudge his shoulder. “Yes, really. I think it’d be fun. You know, us... together. Not as just friends.”

For a moment, Peter could only stare at her, his mind trying to process the fact that she had just said yes. She said yes. She wanted to go out with him. His heart was doing backflips again, but this time, it felt more like excitement than nervousness.

“I— Wow, okay!” he blurted out, a huge, goofy grin spreading across his face. “I mean, that’s awesome. Really awesome. I didn’t mess it up?”

Y/N shook her head, that familiar sparkle in her eyes. “You didn’t mess anything up, Peter. You’re kinda cute when you get all flustered.”

His heart just about exploded at that, and he quickly glanced away, trying — and failing — to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. “R-really?”

She nodded, biting her lip as if she was holding back more teasing remarks. “Yep. But next time, you can just ask, you know? No need for the whole word jumble.”

“I’ll remember that,” Peter mumbled, still grinning like an idiot.

As they sat there, with the comfortable silence settling between them, Peter couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. He didn’t know how he’d managed to pull this off, but somehow, he had. And when he finally worked up the courage to glance back at her, Y/N was still smiling at him like she knew something he didn’t — like maybe, just maybe, she’d felt the same way all along.

This was going to be the start of something amazing. He just knew it.

[sequinsandfins]

saccharine maxiel:)))

thanks for the prompt anon! I hope this is sweet enough for you! 637 words. Ask for a prompt here!

Max triple checks that everything has been set out exactly the way he wants. 

Daniel has been out all day, leaving Max to his own devices. He hopes that Daniel has no clue what is about to happen.

Max has been planning this for months. From the moment Daniel was no longer on the grid, Max knew he longer cared.

Daniel left and took Max’s heart with him.

So, Max started planning. 

Max checks the table in the middle of nowhere is set. He thanks the two wait staffers and apologises in advance for the fact that they now have to stay out here for what could be hours.

Daniel returns to the farm, and he breaks out an incredulous giant grin at the sight of Max, standing in front of two new dirt bikes.

“What the fuck?!” Daniel rushes towards Max, like a kid on Christmas morning. Max tries not to feel too rejected when Daniel doesn’t even give him a second glance.

Daniel is standing in front of one of the bikes, running his fingers along the handlebars, stroking the seat and Max wonders if it’s insane to be feeling jealous over a piece of machinery.

“DANIEL,” he says, possibly too loudly but it has the desired effect. “I bought you a new bike!” Daniel laughs.

“Yeah babe, I can see that. Well there’s actually two.” Daniel has finished fondling the first bike and is moving to the second when Max blocks his path.

“This is of course mine.” He says, saving his own bike from being groped. “So we can go riding together?” Max motions to his riding gear that he’s donned.

Daniel doesn’t need to be asked twice and rushes quickly to get ready. Max pats down this body, checking he has everything he needs while Daniel changes.

Riding on the farm with Daniel is always exhilarating. Max recalls many a ride ending in pumped up adrenaline building into a frenzied fuck.

But that’s not the plan for this ride.

Max pushes the throttle forward, quickly passing Daniel. He knows Daniel will follow him anywhere, as he navigates to their destination.

When they get through the bush and to the clearing, he slows to a stop and watches as Daniel comes to his own abrupt stop. 

Max pulls off his helmet, dismounts the bike and walks over to Daniel. His heart is hammering away in his chest in a way that has nothing to do with the ride.

Daniel has taken off his own helmet and is staring in confusion at the dinner table in the middle of the bush.

“Maxy what?” Daniel turns to ask Max but stops when he finds Max, dropped to one knee, holding out an open ring box. “Max?” Daniel whispers.

“Daniel. You are, as you know, the love of my life. I do not want to be apart from you again.” Max starts out,

“Yes!” Daniel exclaims and then appears sheepish as Max cannot help but scowl at him.

“Daniel! I had a whole speech planned about how you complete me, how I’ve never been in love like I have with you. How I met you, and you changed me completely. How we have always sought each other out and how it wasn’t until Singapore that I realised just how much you meant to me.” Max sighs, standing up, “Now it is ruined.” He looks up and is shocked to see tears in Daniel’s eyes. “No! Daniel don’t cry!” Max steps forward and reaches out for him, “I can fix it.”

“No! It’s perfect.” Daniel leans forward and kisses Max softly, halting the runaway thoughts in Max’s mind.

“Daniel? Will you marry me?” Max finally asks as Daniel holds him, tear stained cheeks, obvious though the light coverage of dirt on his skin.

“Yes, of course Maxy.

[alyrasturnz]

how did it end or chloe or sam or sophia or marcus angst!!! (the best songs from ttpd)

CHLOE OR SAM OR SOPHIA OR MARCUS {{ chris sturniolo }}

summary — you and chris became ensnared in a maze of miscommunication, where every word and gesture were fragments of a language neither of you fully grasped. it was only when chris had finally moved on, setting out to build a life of his own, that the puzzle pieces began to fit together. hindsight brought clarity, revealing the intricate dance of misunderstandings that had shaped your shared past.

— angst (no happy ending..)

warnings :: toxic!chris 😐

a/n ,, im actually slacking dude my writing is so bad and this is short afffff 😔 im probably gonna release how did it end tmr and rwlym after

you and chris were ensconced in the living room, the atmosphere so laden with tension that it seemed to weigh down the very air. the once familiar and comforting space now felt like a battlefield, where unspoken words and unresolved emotions hung heavily between you both.

you had been striving to maintain your composure, your mind racing with thoughts and questions, yet the growing chasm between you and chris was impossible to overlook. you could feel the cold distance in his eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth you once shared.

it was as if an invisible wall had been erected, separating your hearts and minds. at last, unable to bear the oppressive silence any longer, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken feelings.

you ook a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you clasped them together. your eyes searched chris's face for any sign of the warmth that once resided there. "chris," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "what’s going on? you’ve been so distant lately. It’s like you don’t even care anymore." you paused, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

chris sighed, the frustration etched deeply in his eyes. “it’s not that, y/n. i’ve just been... thinking a lot.”

“thinking? about what? us?” your voice wavered, your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a thunderous echo of your growing anxiety.

“yes, about us. about everything,” chris replied, his eyes skirting away from yours, as if the weight of his thoughts was too heavy to share through mere eye contact.

you felt a pang of desperation, your hands trembling slightly as you clutched at the fabric of your shirt. “i’ve been trying so hard to make things better. i’ve changed so much, hoping it would bring us closer. but it feels like the more i try, the further you pull away.” your voice cracked, the raw emotion evident in every word, as you took a hesitant step closer, searching his face for any sign of understanding.

chris’s eyes flashed with anger, his jaw tightening as he struggled to contain his emotions. “that’s the problem, y/n! you’ve changed so much that i don’t even recognize you anymore. it’s like you’ve become a completely different person,” he exclaimed, his voice rising with a mixture of frustration and sorrow, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

your voice rose, your frustration boiling over, like a pot long left unattended on a hot stove. “i changed because i thought it would help us! i thought if i became someone better, you’d be happier with me,” you cried, your hands gesturing wildly, each movement a testament to the turmoil churning within you.

chris stood up, his voice loud and filled with emotion, reverberating through the room like a storm. “but i never asked you to change! i fell in love with you, the real you. this... this isn’t the person i fell in love with,” he declared, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and sorrow, each word striking like a hammer against the fragile remnants of your shared past.

you stood up too, tears of anger and hurt welling in your eyes, shimmering like fragile crystals on the brink of shattering. “so what, chris? you want me to just stay the same forever? people grow, they evolve. why can’t you see that?” you retorted, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken pain and the desperate need for understanding.

chris shook his head, his voice trembling with frustration, like a leaf caught in a tempest. “it’s not about growth, y/n. it’s about you becoming someone else entirely. i don’t know who you are anymore, and it’s driving me crazy,” he lamented, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions, each word a plea for the familiarity that seemed to slip further away with each passing moment.

your hands were shaking now, trembling like leaves in a fierce wind. “i did it for us, chris! i thought it would make things better. but you’re so stuck in your ways that you can’t even see that,” you cried out, your voice a mix of desperation and defiance, each word a testament to the chasm growing between your intentions and his perceptions.

chris's voice softened, yet the pain lingered like a shadow. “maybe i’m stuck, but at least i’m still me. i just wish you could see that changing everything about yourself isn’t the answer,” he murmured, his words carrying a quiet sorrow, each syllable a delicate echo of the love and confusion that still bound you together.

your voice broke as you spoke, trembling like a fragile reed in the wind. “i don’t know what else to do, chris. i’m trying to save us, but it feels like you’ve already given up,” you whispered, each word heavy with the weight of despair and a longing for the connection that seemed to slip further from your grasp.

the room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. the once vibrant echoes of laughter and shared dreams now seemed distant, replaced by a heavy stillness. you both stood there, breathing heavily, each breath a reminder of the emotional toll that had been exacted.

the realization began to sink in, a slow, painful awareness that despite the depth of your love, the misunderstandings and frustrations had woven a chasm too vast to bridge. this rift, born of countless unspoken grievances and unmet expectations, now seemed insurmountable, a silent testament to the fragility of human connection and the complexities of the heart.

finally, chris spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the weight of his words threatened to break him. “i don’t know where we go from here, y/n. i really don’t,” he murmured, his tone laden with a profound sense of uncertainty and resignation, each word a fragile thread in the tapestry of your shared history, now fraying at the edges.

you nodded, your heart breaking into countless pieces. “neither do i, chris. neither do i,” you whispered, your voice a quiet echo of the sorrow and confusion that now enveloped you both, each word a testament to the shared despair and the uncertain path that lay ahead.

with that, you both stood in silence, the realization that your paths were diverging sinking in like a slow, inevitable tide. you had loved deeply, with a passion that once seemed unbreakable, but sometimes love isn’t enough to conquer the challenges that loom like shadows on the horizon.

the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts now stood as silent sentinels between you, marking the end of a chapter written with both joy and sorrow.

»--•--«

you retrieved a cereal box from the shelf, your eyes lingering on it for a moment. the simple act of selecting breakfast brought a flood of memories, recalling the times you and chris would delight in the whimsical joy of sharing children's cereal, each spoonful a testament to the carefree moments that once defined your bond.

you smiled softly, a tender expression that had long eluded you since the breakup. the passage of time had whispered its counsel, urging you to move on, yet the heart's wounds are not so easily mended.

seven years had passed, and you were both but children then, navigating the tempestuous seas of youth. still, the ache lingered, a poignant reminder of what might have been. the dreams of a future shared with him, almost within your grasp, now shimmered like distant stars, forever out of reach.

you maneuvered your shopping cart, its wheels reluctantly scraping against the pristine floor. suddenly, your gaze fell upon a familiar figure—a boy from your past, now standing before you, seemingly engrossed in selecting diapers. the sight was a jarring juxtaposition of old memories and new realities, a reminder of the inexorable march of time and the unexpected paths it carves.

"chris?" you whisper, your voice barely audible. chris freezes, his entire being suspended in that moment. slowly, he turns around, his heart swelling with a tumult of emotions, his stomach twisting in a visceral response to the unexpected encounter.

"y/n," he uttered, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. his expression was slightly shaken, a reflection of the unexpected reunion. he looked different—his hair had grown longer, and a subtle stubble adorned his face, marking the passage of time and the changes it had wrought.

"it's been so long," you murmur softly, your voice a gentle echo of past memories. "how have you been?" you inquire hesitantly, the words carrying the weight of years and the unspoken questions that linger in the spaces between.

"i've... i've been great," chris articulates, his tone imbued with genuine sincerity. you felt a surge of relief, gratified that he had found happiness. yet, a small, unspoken part of you couldn't help but hope that he still harbored a lingering sense of missing you.

"that's nice," you acknowledge with a nod, the silence enveloping you like a shroud. "so..." you begin, attempting to break the stillness, but a small, unexpected voice interrupts you.

"daddy!" a diminutive boy vociferated, sprinting towards chris as you furrowed your eyebrows in consternation.

"hey, bud," he greeted, a broad grin unfurling across his visage as he hoisted the boy and gently placed him into the shopping cart.

your mouth falls slightly agape, your lips parting in silent astonishment as you stare, transfixed by the unfolding interaction before you. each second seems to stretch into eternity as the realization dawns upon you with the weight of a thousand revelations: chris. has. a. child.

"um," chris murmurs, clearing his throat and running a hand through his tousled hair, the movement slow and deliberate. he pauses for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before turning his gaze toward you. "i think i should get going," he remarks, his voice tinged with a hint of hesitation. he nods slightly, the motion almost imperceptible, as you reciprocate the gesture with a similar, measured nod.

"uh, yeah, of course," you quickly nod, your movements brisk yet filled with a certain urgency. "i have a question, though," you add, your voice carrying a subtle undertone of curiosity and anticipation.

"would things have been different if i didn't... y'know," you mutter, your voice trailing off into a whisper as you grapple with the weight of unspoken possibilities.

chris softly smiles, a gentle curve forming on his lips. "i loved you the way you were, not the person you tried to be," he says softly, his words carrying a tender warmth that seems to momentarily halt the passage of time. your whole world freezes, each second stretching into an eternity. "goodbye, y/n," he murmurs, and with that, he turns away, pushing his shopping cart into the distance.

it felt as though your entire world had been torn asunder with a single sentence, the very fabric of your existence unraveling in an instant. your heart shattered into a million fragmented pieces, each one a poignant reminder of the pain now etched into your soul.

the weight of those words bore down upon you, leaving you breathless and adrift in a sea of sorrow. every fragment of your heart seemed to echo with the loss, reverberating through your being and leaving an indelible mark on your spirit.

you could have been the mother of his child, nurturing a life that symbolized your shared dreams. you could have walked down that aisle, each step a testament to the love and promises you held dear. you could have done so much, weaving countless moments of joy and sorrow into the tapestry of a life together, now forever lost to the realm of what might have been.

so many could'ves linger in the air, each one a whisper of unrealized potential. it pains you to reflect, knowing that in the naivety of your youth, you were too impaired to grasp the gravity of your choices. the wisdom that comes with time was absent then, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and missed opportunities.

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Nesta woke with a start to frosted windows and her ankle tied to a bedpost. “CASSIAN!” she screamed, voice hoarse from disuse.

“No need to shout,” he replied, sitting in a leather chair by an unlit fireplace. “I’ve been here the entire time.”

He had his wounded leg propped up on an ottoman. Shirtless, Cassian had on a pair of loose black basketball shorts and a pair of ankle socks, and his thigh was wrapped in a clean, white bandage. A prick of guilt slithered through her that she couldn’t quite banish despite what he’d done in response. Maybe they were even, she reasoned.

Or maybe he was a bastard who’d infiltrated her hidden life and now had her tied to a bed.

“Untie me,” she ordered, heart hammering in her chest.

Cassian cocked his head, dark hair spilling over broad, tattooed shoulders. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” “I’ll kill you,” she snapped.

He laughed. “You could have killed me days ago and you didn’t. You can’t kill me anymore than you can leave me, Nes. You know it.”

Looking up at the ceiling, Nesta reconsidered all her life choices. “Not killing you doesn’t mean I want to be with you.” “I assumed you wanted to be with me when I bent you over the kitchen table,” he deadpanned in response. 

“Let me go.”

He shrugged. “Okay. But there’s nowhere to run, Nes.”

“I’m not going—”

“Do me the favor of not lying to me,” he replied.

“Oh? Like you did?” she snapped in frustration. Cassian’s eyes widened ever so slightly, his guilt plain. “When did you decide you weren’t going to kill me?”

“Fuck, Nes, I was never planning to kill you. Ever.”

“Bullshit. Rhys sent you—”

“To keep tabs, that’s all. He wants your sister and she wants to be reunited with you and Elain. I was just watching until it was time to bring you back. I never had orders to kill you.” Nesta didn’t know how much of that she believed, despite the almost pained look on his face.

“And if he called you right now–”

“Christ, Nesta,” Cassian exploded, wincing as he rose to his feet. “Is it that difficult to believe I prefer you alive?”

“It’s difficult to believe you wouldn’t betray me if your boss told you to,” she sneered, heart racing. Nesta knew the truth—knew Cassian was no better than every other man she’d ever been with. They had no loyalty to her, and Cassian would betray her for his friends if they asked. All men did. 

Cassian untied the rope against her ankle, leaving Nesta to scramble to her feet, furious with him. She’d prove she was right. “I told the lie.”

Cassian sucked in a sharp breath. “What lie?”

Was he stupid? “The lie, Cassian. It was me—all my idea, my plan, my lie. I told Feyre to blame the murder on Rhys, I told the police it was him. This is all my fault. Does your precious Rhysand know that? Did you?”

Cassian took a breath, and then another. “So?”

Nesta blinked. “What?” “So fucking what, Nesta?” Cassian replied, crossing his arms over his naked chest. “Rhys thinks Feyre told the lie and you know what he’s doing right now?”

Nesta was too afraid to speak, to swallow the pooling saliva in her mouth. 

“He’s probably fucking her—”

“Don’t talk about her that way!” 

“No one cares about the goddamn lie, Nesta!” Cassian exploded, temper getting the better of him. “Did you think it would change my mind? Your father was a bastard—”

“Don’t talk about him that way, either!” she yelled back, not disagreeing with him. She merely wanted to fight him—if he’d told her his name was Cassian she’d have disagreed with him simply on principle. Nesta wanted to see how far she could push him before he inevitably backed off. Before he realized he wanted a fantasy and the woman beneath was no prize, nothing special. No one worth chasing across the country or obsessing over the way he was. 

“He was,” Cassian snarled as he stalked forward. “He would have done the same to you—would have traded you to someone worse if it suited him. What kind of father—”

Nesta slapped him. “Don’t,” she warned him, unable to listen to Cassian defend her. 

“Did it feel good to see his body?” Cassian asked her, gaze sharp and lethal. “Did you feel relieved knowing he couldn’t hurt you anymore? Or did you feel guilty, Nesta, that Feyre did the thing you’d always wanted to?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“I know more than you think. I worked with your father, you forget,” he replied, coming closer still. Close enough she could feel the heat radiating off him. Nesta wanted to press her face against him and tell him everything. The life before her mother died, when her parents made it clear they loved each other first and their daughters second. Realizing the blatant favoritism and how even their attention felt like a curse. The downward spiral when her mother died and the different ways he played them off one another while acting hapless and confused.

And Cassian was right. Nesta did feel relief. And guilt, because what kind of terrible daughter wished her father was dead? What kind of horrible person wished she’d had the strength to do what Feyre had? 

Cassian’s callused palm caressed her cheek. “If I had known…I’d have done it for you,” he murmured. “You’re too sweet.” “No one thinks that about me,” Nesta bit back, hating the way tears were gathering against the corner of her eyes.

“No one knows you. Not like me,” he replied, his expression cautiously guarded. This time, when Nesta raised her hand to hit him, Cassian caught her wrist. It wasn’t a bruising hold but it was firm, his eyes flashing with warning. 

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Cassian breathed, crowding her personal space. “Push away everyone who loves you until you’re alone just to prove you deserve to be alone. The only person who thinks you’re unworthy of love is you, though. Not me, not your friends, and not your sisters, either.”

“What do you know about it?” she whispered, hating the hitch in her voice. Fuck him. Nesta hated him. She hated him for speaking about her insecurities with so much confidence, as if he had the right. 

“I know what it's like,” Cassian whispered in response, thumb rubbing a soft, soothing circle against her wrist. “My mom was murdered and my dad…I killed him. Hunted him down, let him see the man he refused to raise and the monster everyone said I’d be. He deserved it.”

Cassian spoke the words with such relish, his eyes bright as he conjured up memories of the past. “Would you do it again?” she asked him, throat dry.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “The only difference, I guess, would be my methods. I was too angry—I didn’t savor his pain. If I could go back, I’d prolong his suffering.”

“I think I’m a bad person,” she whispered, hating the way her body started to shake. “I couldn’t keep them safe. It was Feyre—Feyre who saved us. And she’s still…she’s in danger and I’m here, useless—”

“Don’t,” Cassian interrupted, his expression fierce. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. Not in front of me.”

“Someone should,” she snapped, wrenching her hand from his grasp. “What good is it to pretend otherwise?”

Cassian shook his head. “No one thinks half as harshly about you as you do.”

“I should have—”

“You’re sweet,” Cassian insisted, stepping in front of her as she tried to leave the bedroom. “My sweet Nesta.”

“No one thinks that.”

“No one knows you like I do. Someone told you you were cold and harsh, once, and you’ve never forgotten. But they were wrong about you. Let me be your weapon, Nes. Please.”

“And what do I do, then? Sit at home and—” “You asked me if I’d kill you if Rhys ordered me to?” Cassian began, eyes glittering with something that looked like triumph. “Ask me if I’d kill Rhys if you told me to.”

She just barely got the question out. “Would you?”

“Yes.” Spoken easily, without hesitation. “If you had a sword, I’d kneel and allow you to knight me. If you were a Queen, I’d beg you to make me your General. Your enemies are mine, your banner the only loyalty I know, your command my edict.”

“You like poetry now?” she asked, strangely embarrassed by his declaration.

“I read too, you know,” Cassian told her gently. But Nesta didn’t know that. While he’d been studying her, she’d been largely ignoring anything to do with him that didn’t involve his body laying atop her own. 

“You’re a bad man, Cassian,” she murmured, trying one last time. One last test, just to see, at least for now. Maybe there would be another someday, and maybe he’d let her down eventually.

But right then, Nesta saw his determination coupled with his realization he nearly had her. Damn him. 

“I never said otherwise,” he murmured, eyes soft. “I’ll be good to you, though.”

“Is this what you call good?”

He grinned. “How long did you know?”

“The minute you walked to my door,” she replied as he stared back at her incredulously. “You look nothing like a cop—”

“A compliment—”

“And also I can google. Do you think I didn’t look you all up years ago?”

“Ferye didn’t,” Cassian said with a smug smile. Nesta bit back the urge to scream a little. Feyre didn’t even google Rhys? It was so like her, to just put it all from her mind and trust that fate would guide her. And Rhys… “Is she safe?”

“Yes,” Cassian said solemnly, and Nesta believed he wouldn’t lie to her. Not about this, anyway. Nesta felt off kilter, unsure what to do or say next. It took her a moment to remember it all—he’d put a cloth over her face filled with chloroform and Gwyn and Em—

“My friends—”

Cassian grimaced. “Mor and Em are fine…well…Em is fine. Mor is…getting what she deserves, I think.”

“And Gwyn?”

“Az took her with him.”

Nesta was going to kill him. “Took her where?”

Cassian’s eyes slid to the floor. “I uh…I’m not sure.”

Nesta punched him hard in the shoulder.

“Ow! I didn’t kidnap her!”

“No, but you brought him to us!”

“Well, shit, Nes, I didn’t know he was gonna get obsessed when she put a gun in his face. Though…now that I think about it…I probably should have known,” Cassian mused, hazel eyes far away. “He’s always been…”

“Cassian, I don’t think you can judge him,” Nesta said, mind racing. Gwyn would be fine…right? “He’s not the…he wouldn’t…he respects the word no, right?”

Cassian’s eyes widened. “Of course. I’m sure he wouldn’t…do that.”

“How sure?”

Cassian’s gaze searched her own, face serious. “If he hurts her, I’ll kill him for you.”

Nesta wasn’t sure she believed that, but his words soothed her a little.

“Besides, from the last update we got, it sounds like she’s giving him a difficult time.”

Nesta was tempted to press him, but Cassian turned and asked if she was ready to go home with a wariness that betrayed how nervous he was. She wasn’t leaving him, though—even if it was a betrayal of her time in witness protection. She was ready to go back to living her actual life, to stop pretending to be Agnes, a woman she hated, and living in a place she loathed.

Rhys knew the truth and he didn’t want them dead for it. And Cassian…a million memories slithered through her mind. He’d cooked with her and done yoga, and—

“Did you kill Tomas?”

“Of course,” he replied easily, tossing a couple things into an open canvas bag. Nesta didn’t know why it mattered, but she crossed the wood floor all the same to fling her arms around his neck. 

“Thank you.”

Cassian hugged her back warmly and without hesitation. She felt him inhale the scent of her hair, hand spanning the entirety of her back. “For what? I love killing.”

“Cassian…you know thats fucked up, right?”

He shrugged. “We all have our talents.”

“Take me home, Cassian,” she murmured. Cassian only smiled, lips in her hair.

“Consider it done.”

CASSIAN:

In his wildest dreams, Cassian never expected Nesta to come as easily as she did, in the end. Perched in the passenger seat, Nesta complained about the music he listened to—Divorced Dad Rock, she claimed—the route he took—What is your obsession with backroads—and the way he drove—Get your hand off my knee, Cassian. 

With any other woman, in any other circumstance, it would have been a nightmare. He’d have been ready to commit a trail of homicides before he ever reached home, but listening to Nesta settled something restless and wild in Cassian’s chest. After a lifetime of violence, she made him feel safe, somehow. 

It didn’t hurt that she had a gun holstered to her thigh and those sharp eyes kept vigil even at night. Nesta didn’t relax until the doors were locked, the curtains drawn, and the closets checked for monsters. Was it him, he wondered, that made her look? Or the life she’d lived before him? Cassian drew up the courage to ask the night before they arrived home, holding Nesta in his arms.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked into her hair, unsure what he’d say if she did.

Nesta snorted. “Of you? No.”

“Then why—”

“Habit,” she replied, reading his mind. “It doesn’t hurt anything though, does it?”

“I just needed to know.”

They fell back into silence, half asleep even as Cassian’s mind whirled. What was Rhys going to say when he came home like this? Maybe he ought to put a ring on Nesta’s finger…just in case. 

“Nes?”

She merely hummed in response.

“We should get married.”

There was a very pregnant pause in the dark. “Is there a question in there somewhere?” Nesta finally asked, rolling over so she laid on her back.

“If I ask, you might say no. I’m telling you we’re getting married.”

Nesta leaned up on her elbows while Cassian tried to suppress his grin. If he wasn’t careful, she’d shoot him again. Why did that turn him on? 

“You’re telling me?” she repeated, her voice lethally soft. “Do you want to try again? I’ll pretend I never heard you say that.”

“No.”

In that, Cassian was certain. If he gave her the option, it was too risky that Nesta would say no. She’d fight him no matter what, but this way, at least she knew the outcome. He’d take her to the altar kicking and screaming if he had to. But Nesta was going. 

“Cassian—”

Cassian had her before she could raise her fist, pinning her beneath him quickly. Using his knee to spread her legs, Cassian settled himself between her thighs before lowering her head.

“Do you imagine a life without me, Nes?”

“Maybe.”

That wounded him, though he was determined not to show it. “Oh? And how do you figure?”

“Maybe I’ll get bored of you,” Nesta said in that flippant, bratty way of hers. The words shot straight to his balls which irritated him. He was never going to win a fight against her if he couldn’t keep his body in check. 

“Yeah?” he questioned, teeth tugging roughly at the lobe of her ear. “Do you think I’ll ever be bored of you?”

“Probably,” Nesta said, though there was a breathless quality to her voice. “Maybe you’d prefer someone less difficult.”

“Don’t sound so hopeful, Nes. There will be no one else. For either of us,” he added, just in case she thought he was giving himself some sort of out. 

“Cassian—”

“You shot me, remember?” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. He would like a recreation of that moment. Nesta, gun pointed at him, Cassian, helpless. Though, he’d prefer it ended with him fucking her against a wood floor rather than picking a bullet out of his leg. 

“And that made you want to marry me?” Nesta asked, fingers brushing the stubble of his cheek.

“No,” he admitted, “though it certainly didn’t hurt anything. The sight of a gun in your hands, I just…fuck. Tomorrow. We’ll get married tomorrow.”

“How do you think we’re going to get married? We don’t have paperwork, a license—”

“I’ll figure it out,” Cassian interrupted. 

“Do I have a choice, Cass?”

“You could shoot me again. Run off, if you want. But I’d find you,” he added, just in case there was any doubt. “I’d bring you back.”

“Seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I’d like it better if you were excited,” Cassian murmured, kissing just beneath her jaw. “If you said yes.”

“You’d have to ask me a question if you wanted that,” Nesta replied blithely. 

Fuck he wanted her.

“Marry me?” he asked, changing his inflection just enough it was a question.

“No.”

Cassian covered her mouth with his own, kissing her with a brutal intensity that left him breathless. Desperate. Of course she said no. She likely had to, couldn’t have said yes even if she wanted to and still it did something for him. 

“Marry me, Nesta?” he whispered again, lips inches from her own.

“No,” she said again, though there was a whine to her voice that hadn’t been there before. Cassian kissed again, and again, his tongue stroking her own as his hands began skimming down her sides. How long before she said yes? Would they be fifty years in before Nesta finally admitted she liked being his wife? Three kids, eight grandchildren later?

Cassian ignored his desperate need to hear her say yes in favor of making her want him again. It felt as though it had been a lifetime since he’d last felt her beneath him, but right then he thought if he didn’t touch her, taste her, he’d go mad from wanting. Why was she wearing so much clothing? Nesta was in one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear, all of which felt criminal right then.

He’d marry her, and then he’d keep her naked in his house, he decided. She could do whatever she wanted so long as she did it without a top. Cassian pulled it off over her head, dislodging the bun of hair she’d set just before they’d fallen asleep.

“I put moisturizer on—”

“I don’t care,” he growled, kissing her again. Fuck her skincare routine, and her pretty hair, and everything else. Cassian liked Nesta when she was fussy because it made undoing her all the more fun. Raking his fingers through her silken hair with one hand, Cassian used the other to palm her large, soft breast. He was painfully erect and making it her problem, grinding himself against her pelvis until he could feel her arousal through the thin fabric of her panties. 

“Cassian…” Nesta breathed, arching her neck as he began to drag his mouth down her skin.

“Marry me,” he replied, certain he’d be repeating this well into fucking her. 

“Shut up, Cassian,” Nesta replied, just in time for Cassian to lick her nipple. He sucked a little harder than he needed to, groaning when she arched into him. Her hand slid between his legs for his cock, squeezing a warning.

“Do that again,” she whispered, her eyes somehow bright even in the pitch dark. “I dare you.”

“Fuck,” he panted, wishing she’d keep stroking. Nesta released her grip in favor of raking her nails down his back before her palms settled on his shoulders to push him lower.

Cassian settled between her legs, peering up at her in the dark. “Are you going to marry me?”

“I guess it depends how well you do tonight,” she replied, which was an improvement from the outright no of before. 

“When have I ever done a bad job?” Cassian asked as he slid the fabric of her white panties to the side. There was something about letting her wear them that turned him on. Like he was doing something he shouldn’t, touching something forbidden. Nesta was a lady—she should have been off-limits.

And there he was, running his bloodstained hands all over her immaculate skin. This was Cassian’s religion, his home—his purpose. How could she not want to marry him when he’d never been more sure of anything in his life? That first taste of her felt holy, and when her legs fell fully open, Cassian truly believed there had to be some sort of higher power.

How else did you explain a woman like Nesta Archeron? 

Nesta’s fingers found his hair as he began to lick at her, taking his time in the dark. Where did he have to be? Outside of just returning home and telling Rhys what he’d done, Cassian didn’t need to be anywhere at all—and Rhys could wait, besides.

Rhys would wait. 

Cassian took his time, eyes adjusted to the dark as he licked slow circles around her clit. His fingers teased, using the fabric of her underwear to rile her up until Nesta was panting, thighs squeezed tight around his face.

“Cassian—”

“Are you going to marry me?”

“Cassian!” she replied, but he’d pulled away entirely to look at her. He wanted to hear her say yes—it was killing him that she wouldn’t, and if that was the only way he’d get that answer, well…

He’d done worse things than this. 

“Cassian, please,” Nesta all but begged, and he couldn’t stand that, either. Maybe it was just his aching cock begging him to get on with things, but Cassian returned his mouth to her pussy, licking faster this time because he wanted to hear her come. He’d missed the sound of her breathy sighs and the way her chest flushed red when she got close. Nesta’s legs trembled, arching and rolling against him in a mimicry of fucking. 

He needed to be inside her more than he needed anything else. Cassian pulled her close, wishing he’d sat her on his face so at least she could touch him. That was heaven and hell all at once, the desperate need to taste her and the frantic urge to fuck her. 

Cassian pulled back moments before Nesta came, panting roughly as he pulled his cock from his pants. Nesta whined, arching her back so her nipples pointed directly at the ceiling. Fuck.

“Marry me, Nesta.”

“Yes,” she replied, too lost to pleasure to think about fighting him. Cassian was quick to slide his cock into her body, using the pad of his thumb to rub her clit so Nesta came as he was entering her body. He felt her tighten around him, the sensation causing his eyes to roll up into his head. She was so wet—so warm. Cassian laid himself against, letting himself feel the waves of her pleasure against his otherwise still cock—he was too close and he hadn’t done a damn thing. 

“No take backs, Nesta,” he whispered against her ear.

“We both knew I was going to say yes,” she replied, eyes fluttering open to look at him. “I just wanted to give you a little hell.”

“I like hell,” Cassian murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And I love you.”

Nesta smiled, a sweet smile on her lips. “I know you do.”

If he’d been in his right mind, Cassian might have demanded she say it back. It was very Nesta not to say it, to let him wonder if she meant it. But he knew, as she reached for him, that Nesta felt the same. He didn’t need words—her actions screamed it. 

Cassian had pulled himself out and was simply too drunk on the woman beneath him to care about anything else. Especially when her whole body tightened as he reentered her body, drawing a ragged whimper from Cassian’s lips. Somewhere in his head, he thought he heard Nesta asking for more. Maybe that was merely wishful thinking—Cassian couldn’t be sure.

He pumped, though, fingers slipping between their sweat slicked bodies until he found her clit again. He needed to hear her, needed to feel her. He was dangling on a precipice and yet he couldn’t finish, in part, he thought, because he wanted to feel the rhythmic clenching on his cock again.

Nesta came loud enough that if they had neighbors in the hall, they certainly heard her. Assuming, of course, the headboard knocking against the wall hadn’t alerted everyone to what they were up to. Cassian didn’t care, spilling himself right behind her the moment he felt her tighten around him like a vice. His orgasm ripped through him like a bomb, making a fool of him as he panted and pleaded her name. 

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. 

Reality slipped back in like an unwanted house guest, forcing Cassian out of Nesta so she could quickly make her way to the bathroom, complaining about how much he’d come. As if that was a bad thing. 

“Cass?” Nesta asked, naked and illuminated by the harsh glow of the bathroom lights. He was once again struck by how beautiful she was. Ethereal, like some kind of angel sent from heaven to shoot him with his own gun. 

“Yeah?” he said, eyes on her face though he was looking at her boobs through his periphery.

“Can we…stay…for a day or two? Before we go back? Just us?” she added.

Cassian grinned, beckoning for her to come join him in bed.

“Whatever you want.”

And he meant it. Whatever she wanted.

Forever.

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #23)

FEB23: Established Love

John had been on tour through the spring and summer, and you’d spent the warm months alone. For part of it, he could talk to you freely, but near the end of his duty, he had warned you that he’d need to “go dark” for a while. Days had turned into weeks, and weeks had become months. The fiery sun had shifted across the sky, and what was once a humid morning now had a cold nip in the air. 

Then, as if he had come in on the change in the winds, he was back. Or, a version of him was, anyway.

He had been home for a few days, and while he had told you that “it” was “over”, he had been changed by whatever it was, and he hadn’t told you much else. You noticed he was sleeping for only a few hours at a time. Sometimes, he would wake you up in the mornings with a ravenous, animalistic need, and other times you would find him on the balcony, drinking coffee, enjoying the sunrise. Sometimes he would go out in the middle of the night for a cigar, and some nights he would be at your neck and your breasts and your hips with his lips and his teeth. You never knew which John you were going to get. 

But, he also seemed relieved. It was as if he had been running, sprinting full out, and had finally reached his destination.

One morning, while you were showering together, he was soaping your body as well as his own, and he made a suggestion,

“We should go to the Smithsonian today. They have the Klimt exhibit you were talking about. I looked it up last night, and it’s there this week.”

It wasn’t out of character for John to suggest a day trip, but he hated D.C., and you had only mentioned the Klimt exhibition off-handedly back in January, so it was a bit of a shock. 

“Yeah, John,” you rubbed his body with the lather, marveling at how toned and thick his muscles had become, “That sounds nice. We can take the train.” 

You admired his body as you washed him, but you also felt the shade of contempt rising like bile in your throat. He was hardened by whatever had happened to him, by whatever hell they had put him through. He was only made to look like this broad, cut Adonis because they (whoever they were) had used him like a hammer to a nail. And you resented them for it. 

As much as his heavy form stirred your core and made you crave that strength to be used on you, you wanted to rinse it away. You wanted your soft bear back. You wanted him to be chubby and happy and filled with cheesecakes and champagne and bagels in the morning. You didn’t want him to be a hammer. You wanted him to be your lover, and you thought, selfishly, that it should be his only responsibility. The world, you decided, could save itself. He deserved peace. 

But, that wasn’t up to you. He was his own man. You tried to put those thoughts out of your mind, but you had to admit that this last tour had been hard on both of you. 

The train ride was quiet, as was the stroll down to the museum. John held your hand as you walked through the exhibits, and when you came to the hall that housed the visiting Klimt pieces, you gasped. 

There, in all of its golden glory, was The Kiss.

You stepped toward it, marveling at the gold and watching the light dance across it. The Lovers were there, locked in their perpetual embrace, and she was at his mercy, literally on her knees for him, held tightly in his hands.

John’s voice rumbled in his chest, and he said,

“That’s how I feel about you. I feel as if I’ve never loved anyone until now. I’ve never been loved, and I’ll never be loved again. Not like this.”

You turned away from the masterpiece you’d been admiring to face your very own lover, looking up at him and letting his words sink into your bones, wrapping around them like golden threads, never to be taken back. 

Then, it was his turn to be on his knees. You watched him fall to the floor, confused at first and then —

“Marry me, love. I can’t live without you by my side. Please.”

He offered you the ring, a huge, round pearl surrounded by diamonds. It looked like it cost as much as the painting. You felt hot, heavy tears flowing down your face, and you didn’t even realize you’d been crying. 

But, you managed to nod and whisper, 

“Yes. God, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

The ring fit like it had been made just for you, and he rose from the ground and clutched you to his chest. All at once, you knew how the girl in the painting felt. You kissed John, and in doing so, you knew how she had kissed her robed man. You could imagine how the blood had rushed through her body, flushing her cheeks and pooling in her belly, responding to her love’s embrace. John was him, and you were her, and you were one.

[taintandviolent]

Okay but what about jealous reader killing James so he never leaves her 🥸

warnings: short drabble - sorry!! physical aggression, jealousy, murder, mentions of gore, james being cold. loosely uses the concept in AHStories where ghosts can still experience 'death', but kind of modified. there isn't a long of a cool down period, if you will.

“What do you mean a dime a dozen?!” Your breaths came out in uneven, angry pants, fists clenched tightly at your sides. After everything, after the weekend you’d spent in his arms, with his large but nimble fingers petting your cunt like a kitten, after all of that – you were a dime a dozen. 

“Yes,” he purred. “Don’t be foolish, dear. Think about the sheer volume of women that walk through my doors – you think you’re the first that I’ve courted?” 

You clenched your teeth. He had a point, as much as you didn’t want to admit it – he had a point. Surely, you weren’t the first, but by some deluded thought, you hoped you had been special. 

You took a running start, put both hands out in front of you, and pushed him backwards onto the bed. His interest seemed piqued, but he was a master in bluffing, in keeping his cool and remaining impassive. You hated that. You were on top of him, thighs on either side. You leaned down, and kissed him. As passionately as you could, a desperate attempt at changing his mind. 

Much to your dismay, he did nothing. 

“Damnit, kiss me back!” You howled and beat at this chest with closed fists, hammering his pectorals. You gripped his face hard and yanked it towards yours, smashing your lips hard against his. Still, nothing. His lips didn’t so much as twitch underneath yours. It was like kissing a corpse. You pulled away, chest heaving. 

“Oh, little ember, you are so full of rage, it delights me.” 

“So, I’m special?” you asked. A glimmer of hope. 

He seemed to consider this. Truthfully, the answer was yes. James had decided that the moment you challenged Elizabeth, completely unphased by the power she exuded – you had been ready to fight there in the lobby. Had James not drug you away, there surely would’ve been a scuffle. He’d decided it the moment that you two got back to the hotel room and you devoured him, hungrily, angrily, demanding that his attention be on you. He merely wanted to see how far you’d go with that anger. 

So, he shook his head. It was a small, subdued movement, accompanied by a patronising smirk, but it was a confirmation nonetheless.

“How DARE YOU!” 

You loved him. He’d made you love him and he’d just tossed it aside like some casual one night stand. How many women had he been with? The thought made your stomach clench with nausea. Twenty? Thirty? A hundred? More? He was the handsome, alluring owner of a lavish hotel, of course he’d gotten his dick wet in countless women. You were nothing. 

Oh but you were. Your teeth clenched, molars squeaking against each other as you got up off of him. 

“Stay there,” you said coyly. “Stay there if you care about me at all.” There was a pitiful tone in your voice, intentionally. 

You reached behind your back, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor. You unclasped your bra, and dropped it, too. Before you returned to the bed, you grabbed a large, mean looking knife off his table of tools. Though you tried to cover it with demureness, the rage burned in your eyes, anger roiling in your system like boiling water. You straddled him again. Whether or not James had seen you grab the knife, you didn’t care. You pressed it against his neck, just above his neck scarf. 

“Say you love me. Because I know you do.” 

“Mm, no.”

The glinting tip of the knife punctured his skin where you thought his heart would be and you pushed deeper, gritting your teeth. Instead of screaming or begging for mercy, James let out a throaty groan, akin to the ones you’d heard when you’d sucked his cock. Furiously, you continued stabbing, plunging the knife deep into his chest over and over again. Warm blood splashed onto your face, dripping heavily down your neck. The room was filled with the heady scent; hot and irony and you screamed through your teeth, cramming the knife as far down into his body as you could. 

You took your hands off the hilt, and pressed them against his cheeks. His skin was cold already – but then again, he’d always been a few degrees colder than you. You’d never figured out why. And you supposed you never would now. He’d never get the chance to tell you. He’d fallen still, though his cold, soulless eyes were still locked on yours, watching your every minute expression. 

He’d known all along that you’d had it in you. You were special, delightfully so. None of his other pickups had been brave enough to kill him. Most of them meek and mild, like soft little lambs with a pathetic bleat. Elizabeth might’ve – but she never got the chance. 

James blinked, and exhaled a low, syrupy breath. His lips upturned into a smirk. “Cathartic, isn’t it?”