#This took us 2 streams to finish

[lace4forest]

The Hero of Songs

We drew Song on Stream today! :D

We came up with the Idea that Zelda and Link had to sneak into the Temple of Time to steal it because the King doesn't think anything is wrong and Zelda and Link both know Ganondorf is up to something!

We placed this AU between Twilight Princess and Hyrule Warriors (Like Hyrule Warrior's fixed the timeline type of thing) so this Temple of Time is a newer not in ruins version of Hyrule Warrior's Temple of Time.

[venomgaia]

i also have been testing pngtuber+ vs veadotubemini and heres rhe fruit of a 49 layer model

[bibleofficial]

after basking in the glow of my pettiness - writing on the mirror ‘would an adult leave their nail clippings on the shared vanity’ 4 my brother - karma got me, bc i accidentally knocked a fucking cactus onto my bed

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

[reshinless]

can i request sucking off modern streamer kinich while he’s live? ;3

──── ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა if it's not you !﹒⟢﹒

ᯓ★ ── . summ. when you both miss each other so much, you'll show that it's not mualani he's dating.

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ pairings. kinich x gn!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ director's note. hello disciples (sharks), i'm today here vlog with everyone (will be writing a lot today n tomorrw i suppose)

ᯓ★ ── . warnings. nsfw, sucking kinich off, kind of subby!kinich, but he's more of a switch

part 2 here :)

kinich isn't necessarily lively on his streams, but he gets many swoon with his looks, blunt attitude, and sarcastic humor.

often collabing with another streamer; mualani. people often suspect he'd been dating her, their personalities definitely contrasted well.

but the issues only worsened when she came over to his place.

people in his chat always asked "who's the one sitting in the beanbag?!" "is it mualani?!" "oh my gosh he has a partner!!"

he always had ignored them, they didn't really need to know about you yet anyway.

but days pass, and the rumor continues to frequent his chat, especially today's. he couldn't ignore it this time.. the only messages he'd see were asking if him and mualani got together yet.

even the donations were non-stop with the questions. so he decided just to end stream early, the last of us could wait 'till tomorrow anyway.

when he hops into bed with you, he simply buried his head in your chest.

"something wrong, kin'?" you wrap your arms around his back, holding him closer into your warmth. "nothin'. let's sleep."

the next day felt extra lonely, your boyfriend had left for an event, visiting it with none other than mualani. hm.. you couldn't help but be a little jealous, but you did enjoy the silent life, even with your pretty boy being live all the time, you appreciated that he still kept you private, and away from attention.

but at the same time, you wished everyone knew it was you, not mualani. even mualani cheered for you guys! she always denied dating kinich in public eye, but kinich never gave an answer.

so the public took it two different ways; he isn't dating, and he's not confirming it but is dating mualani. they never thought there might be an option outside of it! how damn cruel!!

"so are you dating popular streamer, mualani?!" an interviewer almost shoves the mic up to his mouth. he simply looks around awkwardly, and leaves, he wants to get home as soon as possible. get some rest before the demon hours of streaming begin.

i guess all the missing went elsewhere, down onto his cock of course. it was almost time for him to stream, but he hasn't finished letting you cum for the sixth time yet! fuck..

you offer to suck him off from underneath, so what can he do? he's just a man! (he denied it at first, like a ton of times before reluctantly agreeing.)

he could feel the way your head bobbed down each time, taking his shaft into your throat so well, oh sshit don't gag on him like that, he might cum right in front of the viewers!!

"hnngh- pretty don't choke on it like that.. mmf-" he quickly mutes his mic to take a breather before going on with the next phase of the quest.

bucking his hips into your mouth, he could feel his orgasm build up like blocks. you could feel a grasp of your hair from behind, it was his hand, and he faced his camera away from view.

he bucks his own hips into your throat, oh fuck, don't tease his tip like that while you stroke his cock!! (he wants more)

the more you moaned- it sent vibrations down into the base of his cock, he groaned suddenly arching his back, a blissful hum comes from your mouth once more.

the lustful eye contact you gave him was his last straw, holding on to your other hand that held his he came into your mouth, loudly whining, you show your mouth off to him as you stand up from your original spot underneath the gaming setup; swallowing every last drop of his semen.

his lips eager to reach yours, he kisses you; tasting the saltiness mixed with the taste of your mouth, it was euphoria. everything he could ever ask for. he couldn't wait to show his viewers the ring on your finger after he'll propose tomorrow.

i'll write fluff part 2 of this soon :)

[starkwlkr]

just a girl | f1

an: this is me asking for your letterboxd pls i need letterboxd mutuals 🤭 my account is deadpunks also made the reader have glasses because we need more glasses representation in fanfics 😔 (to the girlies that wear glasses, this is for you!!!)

Las Vegas Grand Prix Weekend

“What movie did I watch?” Y/n read the comment that a fan left on her instagram live. She adjusted her glasses and smiled. “I just finished ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ it’s so underrated. The cast is so iconic like you have Kirsten Dunst, Brittany Murphy, Denise Richards, Amy Adams and Allison Janney in one movie. It’s definitely in my top four.”

It was hours after qualifying and Y/n was exhausted, but all she wanted to do was finish watching her movie. Unfortunately for her, the movie she had just named wasn’t anywhere on streaming so she brought her portable dvd player and a stack of dvds. When Lando saw her watching a movie and crocheting a scarf for herself in her garage, he laughed at the scene. He actually found it adorable.

“What’s my letterboxd? Okay, listen. . . I don’t give it out to just anyone so this is between you lovely people and me, okay? My letterboxd is ilovecillianmurphy420 and please follow me, I am desperate,” Y/n laughed. She then took her phone and saw all the new follower notifications from letterboxd. “I’m going to ask the social media admin to ask everyone on the grid for their four favorites. Lando is definitely going to name animated movies. That or he’ll forget what a movie is and say nothing.”

What’s your four favorites?

“Whoever your asked for my four favorites, I’m blocking you. How dare you ask me that question . . . Paddington 1 and 2, Saw and Mamma Mia. I know I said drop dead gorgeous was in my top four, but I lie all the time.”

The next day, her letterboxd account had become the second most followed account.

INSTAGRAM

liked by oscarpiastri, letterboxd and others

yourusername just watched the masterpiece that is jackass number two

formulaupdating can i ask why you don’t post about f1 that often?

yourusername no you may not

oscarpiastri i was there too

yourusername ok

landonorris didn’t you watch that last week?

yourusername this is my own private domicile and i will not be harassed

landonorris ?

yourusername bitch

Load more comments

After The Race / Interviews

Y/n hated being interviewed, it was the absolute worst thing on earth. No wait, forgetting her AirPods was the worst thing, but interviews were right behind that. She was exhausted and now she had to deal with reporters asking her what she thought about the championship battle.

Her fingers brushed the strap of her cap nervously as the interviewer’s voice cut through her anxiety.

“Y/n, P7 today—solid result. How are you feeling?" The reporter asked.

Y/n blinked, her eyes flicking around as she tried to process the question, and then her gaze landed on her own shoes. She cleared her throat awkwardly, looking up only to meet the camera for a brief, uncomfortable moment.

“Uh, yeah. It, uh . . . it was. . . good. I mean . . . yeah, I’m happy with it, I guess," she mumbled, her voice faltering.

The reporter smiled kindly, already used to the shy responses. “What do you think made the difference here in Vegas?" He waited patiently for Y/n’s answer.

Y/n’s lips parted as she prepared an answer, but the words tangled up in her brain. She shifted from foot to foot, adjusting her grip on the cap. Fuck, why can’t you think of anything?!, she thought to herself. “Uh . . . I don’t know . . . it’s just . . . uh, a little . . . weird, with all the lights and, you know, the . . . Strip, and, um . . .” Her voice trailed off.

The interviewer gave her a soft chuckle, understanding that Y/n’s awkwardness wasn’t lack of confidence, but rather a product of her introverted nature. Before the interview could go on, two figures appeared behind Y/n.

Oscar had cut in, Y/n’s pair of glasses in his hand. He placed a hand on her shoulder and handed the glasses to her while Lando ruffled her hair. She happily accepted them and placed them on her face.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve tortured her enough, mate.”

Y/n let out a relieved sigh as she turned to Oscar, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing great, really,” he said quietly, his tone meant to ease her nerves.

Lando then spoke up. “Are we done with the interrogation? She's literally about to disappear into her own head if we keep this up."

The reporter chuckled. “I was just asking Y/n about her performance today.”

Y/n hadn’t even noticed that she had completely abandoned the interview. She had started doodling on Oscar’s hand. The Aussie had given her the pen he had used from a fan when he was signing autographs. It was their thing. Whenever she would get nervous and Oscar was around, he would let her draw on his hand. Somehow the hand doodles calmed her.

“Right, Y/n?”

That’s when she picked up her head and noticed Lando was staring at her. “Sorry, what?”

“The race,” Lando reminded her. “She was brilliant out there. Absolutely nailed it.” Y/n didn’t have the words to argue. Instead, she ducked her head, feeling both embarrassed and grateful.

The three drivers said their goodbye to the reporter and walked away. Lando threw an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, grinning. “You know, for someone who hates interviews, you’ve got a hell of a lot to say . . . just not when it’s on camera.”

Y/n’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she felt a brief wave of gratitude for her friends’ protective camaraderie. She glanced at Oscar, who gave her a knowing nod, his usual quiet confidence offering her a sense of calm.

“You guys are unbelievable.” Y/n laughed lightly.

“Yeah well you’re the idiot who’s going to have to deal with us.” Lando replied.

“Unfortunately.” She teased.

“The idiot with the crocheting skills and silly little film reviews that are very popular on the box app.” Lando added.

“What?” Y/n stopped walking and stared at Lando. She looked over at Oscar for an answer, but the Aussie just shrugged his shoulders.

“I do believe our dear Y/n wants a hot priest?” Lando teased, bringing up Y/n’s lastest letterboxd review about Fleabag. “That’s a bit scandalous, don’t you think?”

“Hot priest?” Oscar couldn’t believe Lando had just said those two words together.

“You two don’t get it! Come on, we’re watching Fleabag!”

[coichii]

CLOCK OUT ✭

—(🎧)— chan was always so busy, working hard at creating music. you knew this and respected it, but you’d never thought it would make you his #2 when you were always #1

pairing - bf!bangchan ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: angst & comfort

word count: 1.4k

warnings: lots of swearing, arguing, and yelling. Crying & self deprecating thoughts.

You sigh as you read the clock. 9pm He was supposed to be here an hour ago. You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you throw your phone back on your bed. “Great. I got all dressed up for what.”

You and Chan were supposed to go on a date tonight, it’s his birthday after all. He was supposed to be at your shared apartment by 7pm to pick you up, but he never showed. You were starting to lose hope in him coming at all.

That’s when an idea came to your head. Usually when Chan got like this, he was really stressed. You wanted to help him in any way you could, so next thing you knew, you were heading out the door and driving towards his office.

◂—♥︎—▸

It took alottt of convincing from security before you were let in. It got to the point where a security guard you were familiar with had to vouch for you in order for you to be let in. You knew it was for security reasons, but jeez that took more time than you thought.

You quickly made your way to chans studio, stomach bubbling with nerves. You’ve never done this before, so you didn’t know exactly how he would react. Would he get happy I was there? Would he get angry? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty was slowly killing you.

“Well, no point in turning back now.” You mumble to yourself as you turn the knob of chans room and step in.

Immediately, you’re met with the sound of a track you’ve never heard before bouncing off the walls of the studio. The room is dimly lit, proving a relaxing atmosphere for whoever is in there.

After you get used to the room, your eyes immediately spot your boyfriend, who was not as relaxed.

His shoulders were tense, back slouched down as he rubbed circles into his temples. The scene had your heart thumping with hurt. All you wanted to do was make your boyfriend happy on his special day, and seeing him like this had your eyes watering.

“Channie baby?” You asked gently. No response. “Chan. Are you okay?” You ask softly, moving closer to him. You visibly see him stiffen, his lips pressing in a thin line. “Chan. Please, I’m here to he-“

“Damn it y/n! Can’t you be quiet for a few seconds! For fucks sake, can you not tell I’m busy!” He booms. He’s so loud your almost certain the sound proofed padding did little to nothing holding it in. “Why are you here. Can you leave me alone for once so I can finish this damn song!”

“The date Christopher.” You coldly stated, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes at any moment. “You were supposed to come home at 7pm. Seven! It is 9:30. You have no fucking excuse to yell at me.”

He scoffs at your defense, obviously not paying any mind to your feelings. “The date can wait y/n. I’m busy.” He said simply, voice calming as it it were no big deal. You weren’t calming down on the other hand. Your mind was blinded with rage, everything feeling red and hot with anger, but also embarrassment. A lot of embarrassment.

“Ok. Hope you feel the same way when you get home and you leave me the fuck alone.” You smiled bitterly, turning around and walking out of his studio, slamming the door with a ‘bang!’ Tears were streaming evenly down your cheeks at this point as you stomped throughout the hallways, covering your face in embarrassment as you walked past a very confused security staff out the door.

When you got to your car, all the emotions you somewhat tamed back began to flow, face crumbling with tears once again as you slammed your face into the steering wheel.

He had never yelled at you like this before. Sure he got frustrated before, but nothing like this. He was always incredibly patient with you and watched his mouth when his emotions were high. He’d never reacted like this before, it’s not like him.

So saying seeing the way he got so angry, the way his wire snapped and his voice got loud scared the shit out of you would be an understatement. You were scared you fucked up.

After composing yourself, which took roughly 15 whole minutes of sobbing, you were able to take a hold of the steering wheel and drive home. Your emotions were high the entire time, sniffle echoing throughout the car as you drove through the empty streets.

Unbeknownst to you, he was already feeling the guilt of what he had done.

◂—♥︎—▸

You trudged your way through the door, practically throwing your purse down on the floor as you make your way to your bedroom. You lazily change your clothes from the beautiful red dress you were wearing to a small spaghetti strap tank top and shorts. Not bothering to take a shower, you throw yourself on your bed and cover yourself with the warm sheets.

You know it be just a little petty to mute chans notifications, but you know how he gets whenever he gets even the slightest bit mad at you. Guilty. And after what he just did to you, you knew he would be extra guilty and practically spam your phone, and you were in the mood to sleep right about now.

So you quickly put your phone on do not disturb and shut it down, laying it on your night stand and closing your eyes. Hopefully, a little bit of sleep would help the pain go away.

◂—♥︎—▸

You’re awoken by the feeling of your arm being shaked rather roughly, quickly looking over to be face to face with Chan. You jump a bit, caught off guard before relaxing slightly.

You study his expression, a look of guilt and desperation evident in his eyes. He looked as if he’d been running, small beads of sweat causing his hair to stick to his face. “Had he ran into the apartment? Did he do that for me?”

“B- baby I’m so fucking sorry. I d-didn’t mean to. I swear t-to god I didn’t mean it. I was to stressed to r-realize what I saying. I’m so s-sorry y/n. P-please don’t leave me.” He practically pleaded, holding on to you as if you could slip right through his fingers at any moment.

“Woah woah Chan. I’m not going to leave you. I’m just hurt that’s all. I doubt it was even your fault. I shouldn’t have pushed that hard, I’m sor-“

“No.” He said sternly .Don’t apologize for something that is completely not your fault. I’m sorry y/n. I’m so sorry. You went to check on me when I missed our date. All I could do is yell at you and tell you it was no big deal. It was my fault. Don’t apologize for being compassionate and caring. Especially when it comes up as if I don’t.”

The look on his face had your heart shattering in to tiny pieces. Vulnerability, compassion, fear. It was all visible in his expression and it had you crumbling.

You feel yourself fall apart at his confession, tears free flowing once again from your red eyes as you plant your face into his chest.

“Y-you really hurt me you know? I was r-really fucking scared. I thought you were going to l-leave me.” You sobbed, letting everything go. He grabbed you, an attempt at keeping you grounded as you bawl.

“I know baby. I k-know. Let it out. I’m so so sorry. I would never leave you. Especially over something that was completely my fault. I’m so sorry I scared you love. I would never ever do that on purpose. ever. Please let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything and everything to keep you with me.”

You feel the sincerity in his voice. You know he’s being absolutely honest with his promise. So you you’re not surprised when you find yourself intertwining your pointer finger with his, a sign you’re about to make a promise.

“Promise?” You ask, voice cracking slightly. “I promise. I promise on everything I won’t do this again. I promise to better my self for you and make it up to you.” He’s sincere. You can tell. You know when he lies. “Ok. I trust you.”

Your voice goes quiet as you lay your head deeper into his chest, his comforting arms wrapping around your waist.

You know it’s going to be a while before everything comes back to normal, but you knew this was going to be a step in the right direction.

And he knew that for as long as he lived, he would never let this happen again.

back to masterlist

—

[mitchellnman]

Always Hungry.

MDNI.

PAIRING: Martin x reader

WARNINGS: pwp, mentions of bruises and scrapes (martin) pussy eating. Reader is afab, but there's no gendered pronouns or use of y/n. Hastily written, no beta reader we die like victorian children.

WORD COUNT: 942.

A/N: Hi hello I haven't written a fic in 2 years but Martin made me crawl from my grave please enjoy!

—

Martin's room smelled like incense. Cheap incense, bought online with a holder that made the smoke look like a waterfall. Martin only burned the incense to cover up the smell of sex and sweat, in case the landlord came knocking. It mostly worked, unless you pulled back the blankets on his bed. Then, it was all him, musky and heady and sweet, and you, more or less the same.

He was feeding his skink some blue worms, to match his blue eyes, and the blue candy that poked out from between his lips. He smiled. Martin always smiled when his skink ate, her blue tongue flicking out. She was a silly little creature, lacking a few brain cells, but cute nonetheless. More importantly, she seemed to like you, when you scratched under her chin, or held her little hands with your fingertips. Martin liked it too.

He was shirtless, only in a pair of black jeans that hung low on his hips. You followed the curve of his spine with your eyes from under his hair, down to his waist, and further down, his pants only halfway covering his perfect ass. He was covered in bruises, scrapes, and what you supposed you could call rope burn, from seatbelts digging into his skin. He was beautiful in a nihilistic sort of way, as if Chuck Palahniuk had specialized in paintings instead of novels.

You pushed away from the wall you were leaning on as you watched him, unable to resist touching him anymore. Your cheek brushed over his shoulder, fingers tracing up his sides. He smelled like you, and like sugar. His jaw flexed as his tongue rasped over the candy. Your hands moved up his back, cold fingers on warm skin.

Martin set the skink down in her tank and turned around in your grasp. He regarded you for a long moment, his eyes piercing as he tried to read your mind. You had half a mind to tell him everything you thought. His fingers cupped your chin, and tapped your lips. A wordless request for you to open your mouth. You did, and he brought his lips to yours, pushing the blue raspberry candy into your mouth. You kissed around it, your senses overwhelmed by the artificial flavor. Blue raspberry, what was it, really? Certainly nothing that occurred in nature.

His black hair fell around both of your faces, shielding you from the sunlight that was streaming in through the window. He made an obscene moan, and pushed the rest of the candy into your mouth with his tongue.

"Finish it." He whispered. His blue tongue darted out, and licked your lips. He smiled, a devilish thing that could only mean sin was on his mind. With that knowledge, you took his hands, and walked backwards to the bed. Your thighs hit the mattress, and you fell back. Your tongue pressed the candy to the roof of your mouth so you didn't choke on it.

He descended upon you like an animal, ravenous after starving for days, his hands pushing your shirt up over your ribs. His blue tongue darted out and licked your skin, teasing for only a moment. Then he bit down, nipping at your stomach with that same grin. His large hand squeezed your crotch, concealed by a pair of his sweatpants. His palm pressed against you, slowly massaging you through the fabric.

Martin sucked a mark into your skin, below your belly button. His head dipped down further, sniffing at your crotch, his nose pushing against your clit.

You smiled, and your hands found a home in his hair. It was a little greasy to be sure, but it was soft on your fingers, and he moaned so sweetly when you tugged on his dark locks.

His clever hands tugged your pants down around your ankles, and he didn't give you a moment to breathe. How could he, when you were the best thing he'd ever tasted? Vaguely, he wondered if he could make a candy that tasted like you.

His tongue swiped over your clit, and you shivered with want. Your thighs pressed against his cheeks as his head dipped lower, intent on devouring you.

"Martin," you gasped. "I have to go to work—"

You could feel him smile against you, his breath hot against your cunt as he laughed.

"Should have thought of that before..." He teased, utterly merciless. He pushed two fingers inside of you with ease, still slick from last night, and this morning. In fact, he could still taste himself inside of you.

Your back arched as he found your sweet spot with a practiced ease. Your hands curled in his hair, and the moans he made sent vibrations straight up your spine, like a low bass played from a quality speaker.

He coaxed you to your peak, and you came with a loud cry, your vision going utterly white with previews of heaven. He held you in place as you thrashed, a large hand pressing into your thigh.

When you opened your eyes again, his head was on your stomach, cheek resting against your skin. Martin was smiling, obviously pleased with himself. His nose and chin were shiny with spit and slick, his chest pressed against your core, just enough to keep your body thrumming.

“Call out. Spend the day with me.” He said. His fingers traced over your skin, drawing nonsensical patterns, writing invisible sheet music that only made sense to him.

“Martin…”

“Please.”

It was hard to resist him. Him with his blue lips, and shiny chin. Him with his black, messy hair. You sighed, and admitted defeat.

“Fine.”

[nathaslosthershit]

Welcome interruptions (Dad!Lando Norris)

Summary: While streaming, Lando gets interrupted by two very adorable and very welcome guests

With his wife being out of the house for the time being, and the twins down for a nap, Lando had decided to jump on a quick stream for the first time in a while. Being the father of 3 year old twins didn’t leave much time to stream, not that Lando complained much.

User 1: andddd he is back

User 2: father lando gracing us with his presence

User 3: about time sir

“Alright Chat thank you, I get it. I know I have been gone for a while” He flippantly replied.

He hadn’t intended to be on as long as he had. He enjoyed streaming very much but balancing work, family, and his Twitch sidegig wasn’t the easiest. Still, he hadn’t wanted to spend as long as he was doing on the stream. Admittedly, he had lost track of time while playing and chatting. It wasn’t until two guests graced him with their presence that he realized how long it had been.

Tiny footsteps took Lando out of his haze. Turning around, he was met with two disheveled toddlers still rubbing sleep from their eyes. 

“Hello loves” he cooed, “How was your nap?”

The twins both stayed silent as they tried, and failed, to get on their father’s lap. After some assistance from Lando, his daughter finally spoke up.

“Dada, blueberries please” she muttered.

“You both want them?” He asked. Both replied yes as they laid on his chest, facing the screen that had been showing the chat comments whirling by. His son pointed wordlessly, confused at what he was seeing.

His children were by no means a secret, the minute they were born he had all but shouted his newfound father status. But convincing his wife to bring them to the paddock was not an easy task. He knew the risks and why she was uneasy. He respected her wishes to wait, but the minute they got to join him she could see how much this truly meant to him. Since then, Formula 1 fans had become well acquainted with the Norris twins. 

But this was their Twitch debut, so understandably, the viewers were excited. 

“Those are all the people watching, they are saying hi to you both. Can you say hi to chat?” Lando asked. Immediately, his extroverted daughter yelled a greeting, while his son turned his body, hiding as best he could.

“You can certainly tell which one of them got all the social skills.” He joked.

User 4: give the children their blueberries mr.norris

User 5: she certainly is her father’s child. 

User 6: please, i don’t want baby fever

User 7: oh to grow up the child of Lando Norris

“Alright, I shouldn’t torture them anymore. I’m heading off to give these angels their snacks. I will stream… eventually.” The onslaught of angry comments made Lando giggle, he was purposely trying to piss them off. “Kidding everyone, my god. You know it isn’t easy being a father of two. No matter how sweet and adorable they are.” The babies in his lap laughed as he attacked their foreheads with kisses. 

“Goodbye everyone!” Shutting off the stream and then his computer, Lando expertly lifted both his kids up and carried them out.

“Geez you both are getting heavy, either you are growing up too fast or I am getting too weak.” Hearing the giggles he added, “What? You think your father is weak? Is that funny to you two?” He jested. Grabbing them their blueberries and sitting them down at the table, he took a moment to watch his two beautiful creations messily eat. 

After finishing their plates, he cleared them and his kids to the playroom.

Picking a book from the shelf, Lando sat on the couch as his toddlers joined him on his lap.

Kissing their heads as he opened the book, they both muttered a ‘love you Dada’ that made his heart absolutely melt.

Oh what a beautiful life. 

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

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You Can Have It - Chapter 1

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader

chapter 2 | series masterlist

Story Summary: You've been a baker for 75 years, and are finally moving on from the Winter Court to the City of Velaris to start your own bakery after your grandmother passes. After your grand opening, the High Lord and Lady of Night become daily visitors to your bakery for months, every day having your most popular pastry- one that increases fertility for a short time. All the while, the two alphas want nothing more than to call themselves yours.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, death (brief and non graphic), most likely a LOT of future smut, this is a pregancy plot fic so keep that in mind

Words: ~4.2k

*Reader is a half peregryn, half high fae, presenting as a peregryn with white wings, with white blonde hair and ice blue eyes from her Winter Court father

*Title taken from Chelsea Cutler's 'You Can Have It,' I feel like the general vibe of the song works well with how Feysand will react to reader (with less alcohol)

Author's Note: It's heeeere I'm so happy! No Feyre or Rhys yet, but we'll get there in the next chapter or two. I'm so excited to build up the bakery and upstairs apartment, and the grand opening will be fun! I hope you guys like this chapter.

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

“I love you, Nanna. I’ll never forget you, and all that you taught me. I will miss you so, so much. I’ll see you in the next life, but you go have fun for now. Go make all the pastries that you ever dreamed up, bake and make people happy, just like you did here, Nanna. I love you,” you whispered as your grandmother’s chest stopped moving, her soul leaving with her last exhale. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed her hand one last time.

“Y/N, we need to move her,” Viviane said softly from behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder while avoiding your wing.

“I know,” you sighed, squeezing your Nanna’s hand one last time before standing. She led you out of the room and out of the infirmary altogether, taking you from the place where you had spent months tending to your grandmother as she slowly died, a curse that was spilling through her veins for so many years.

“Have you packed everything yet?” Viviane asked you as the two of you walked back to your quarters near the kitchens.

“Everything besides what I use daily, but it shouldn’t take me more than fifteen minutes. Are you still willing to winnow me?”

“Of course, Y/N. I wouldn’t have anyone else do it, not after all you’ve done for us,” Viviane reassured you with smile. The two of you were already at your room, and Viviane stood in the doorway as you packed up the rest of your things. “You know you could go to one of the villages nearby, or even have your own shop in the market here. You don’t have to move out of the court…”

You sighed. The two of you have had this conversation multiple times, the outcome always the same: you’re still leaving. “I know, Viviane. And I would stay, if… if everything wouldn’t remind me of her. She’s been my only family for the majority of my life, the reason I lived here, knew you in the first place. I can’t… I can’t see her ghost around every corner, right now.”

“Well… If you ever want to come back, you know we’ll be happy to have you, no matter what. And don’t even think about trying to repay us, I will have Kallias send the gold straight back to you if you do,” Viviane said as she watched you. “And you promise to write to us and let us know when you’re ready for us to visit, yes? Your shop does not even need to be open for us to visit, your company is worth the travel.”

“Yes, Viviane, as soon as I feel settled I’ll write you for a visit.” You had finished packing, your belongings fitting in two leather travel bags. All of your life you had rebuilt in the past six years was now contained to such a tiny space.

You took one last, longing glance around the room that had been your home for the past six years, and the first twenty five of your life as well. So many memories, most of them happy and including your grandmother. Loosing a sigh, you finally turn to Viviane and pick your bags up.

“I’m ready.”

Viviane came to your side and grabbed your arm, and then the two of you were slipping through the fabric of the world, making a few quick stops between the Winter Court and your destination. Your new home.

Velaris, the City of Starlight.

In the five years since the victory against Hybern, the city had been opened to visitors and, in select cases, new citizens. You were lucky enough that Viviane is friends with Morrigan, and that you were employed by and friends with Viviane. She was able to secure you the right to move to the city, and a business license that was cleared pending an interview with Morrigan on your arrival. In less than a minute, the two of you were outside of a cozy looking townhouse, set on a busy residential street and near the river that split the city in two. There was a thin layer of snow covering the ground, and the city looked like a winter wonderland.

Viviane raised her hand to knock, but before she could the door had swung open, revealing a gorgeous blonde woman in a red dress and high heels with a wickedly sharp heel that would most likely cause you to topple over. Her scent, cinnamon and a sweet citrus, was calming, and very clearly alpha.

“Viviane! I’m so glad you could make it!” The blonde, Morrigan you assume, embraces your friend tightly for a few seconds before letting her go and turning to you. “And you must be Y/N! Welcome the Velaris, I do hope the city ends up being what you’re looking for.” Her tone was sweet and excited, and her chocolate brown eyes held such warmth that you couldn’t help but trust her.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Morrigan. Viviane has told me so much about you,” you say as you take her hand in yours for a handshake.

“Oh, call me Mor dear, Morrigan makes me feel like I’m being scolded! Now, come in, we’ll get that pesky little interview out of the way and then we can go take a little tour of the city, maybe find you a place for your bakery.”

The two of you follow her inside, and you’re struck by how… cozy and homey the house was. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, what with your opinions on the Night Court having shifted drastically in the past few years, but this was definitely one of the best outcomes.

Hopefully you would be able to find a space to create as your own, make it feel just as if not more welcoming than this house.

“Sit, sit,” Mor says as she leads the two of you into a sitting room, taking your bags and setting them on the floor next to a couch, before taking a seat on the chair opposite it. Viviane sits on the plush couch, and you follow suit, the lower back of the couch perfect for your wings to rest over. “So Viviane tells me you want to start a business here in Velaris?”

You nod your head in confirmation. “Yes, I would like to open a bakery, if there is availability for a new one in the city.”

Mor smiles, and it’s warm, like sunshine. “I’m sure we can find a suitable place not too close to another bakery or café. Viviane has told me you have experience in the baking field?”

You swallow, a lump suddenly in your throat. You’d known this would come up, it was inevitable, after all. “Yes. I was the head baker Under the Mountain for thirty years, after my grandmother had irritated Amarantha one too many times. I was her pastry sous chef assistant for the twenty years before that as well, and I started baking at six years old.”

“And how old are you now?” Mor asked.

“I am 81, currently,” you answered quickly. “I hope that isn’t an issue?”

“Oh, no, no,” Mor shook her head. “I am sorry to hear that you were forced to work for Amarantha for so much of your life. I do hope that you find working in Velaris to be much more fulfilling, and nicer.”

“I- Are you offering me a business license? Just like that?” You asked incredulously.

“Yes, I am Y/N. Kallias and Viviane have both vouched for you, they believe that you are more than capable of running your own business. And they’ve told me that you take care of the baked goods for all of the High Lord’s household. I trust that you will be successful, based on their testimony alone. Hearing that you worked Under the Mountain, though…” Mor paused. “Knowing that, as well, you will be a fine business owner.”

An invisible weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You are a resident and future business owner of Velaris now. “Thank you, Mor. This opportunity means so much time,” you say gratefully.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. Now, would you like a tour of Velaris and to see where you’ll be staying for the moment?” Mor asked as she stood from her chair.

You followed suit, smoothing the skirt of your dress as you did. “That would be lovely, Mor. Viviane, are you able to join us?”

“No, I should be getting back to Kallias soon, we still have a few winter parties to finish planning and he prefers to have my input,” Viviane replied, following you and Mor out of the townhouse. She stepped toward you for one last hug, holding you tightly in her arms until you pull away. “If you need anything, Y/N, write to me.”

“I will, Viviane. Thank you, for everything.” Tears pricked your eyes, even though you know you’ll see your friend again, likely in the next couple of months. “I’ll write to you even if I don’t need anything, too, keep you updated on my life here, Viv.”

She lets go of your arms, stepping back slightly. “You’d better, Y/N. I want to know all the juicy details, especially if you find an alpha,” Viviane said teasingly. The other omega knew how badly you craved to have an alpha, a love strong enough to tie you together and eventually have a family with them. The sex of the alpha doesn’t matter to you, just that it’s someone who understands you, and values you despite your submissive personality and ‘lesser fae’ status, someone that you love equally.

“I’ll make sure to keep you informed on that front as well, Viv,” Mor chuckled, and you threw a playful glare in her direction. “What? I figure you might like to have a friend here, and I have to warn you, I’m a bit of a gossip.”

Viviane laughed, “‘A bit’ is an understatement, Mor. Take good care of my girl, okay?” Mor nodded, giving Viviane a hug as well before the silver haired female winnowed away.

“We’ll leave you bags in the townhouse for now, I’ll come back and get them later for you once you’re settled in your hotel,” Mor says, taking you by the arm and walking away from the townhouse, leaving you no choice but to follow. She took you first to the Palace of Bone and Salt, a commercial area dedicated to fresh and dried meats, spices, baking goods, along with any cookery and bakeware you could ever need.

There were a few shops already that you were dying to go in to, you’d never had much of a chance to pick out your own pieces of bakeware, let alone enough to stock a bakery. There were so many different options that you wanted to explore, but you knew you could wait to lose yourself in the possibilities until you were alone. Next Mor showed you a few shops, ones for clothing items, bedding, shoes. A bar named Rita’s, which she promises to take you to after you’ve settled. Then her favorite restaurant, a small, cozy placed named after its owner and chef, Sevenda. The heavenly smells coming from the windows were enough to convince you to return for takeout later tonight, even without Mor’s enthusiastic recommendation.

And then you were in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. A section of town dedicated entirely to fabrics in every shade of every color imaginable, huge tables covered in glittering gems, an amount of wealth you had never seen displayed so casually before. People were milling about, and you tucked your wings as close to your back as you could manage, not wanting strangers to brush against them any more than necessary.

There were a few shops dedicated solely to custom gowns, their displays filled with gorgeous dresses decorated with intricate embroidery and small gemstones that shined like the stars. You had never before considered wearing such fine clothing, but now you wanted to feel the slip of the fabric over your body, experience how it feels to be dressed like a princess.

Someday. Someday I will save enough money, and buy a beautiful gown, all by myself, you promised yourself as you let Mor lead you across a bridge on the Sidra to the next Palace.

This one was the Palace of Flame and Steel, a district reserved for weaponry, armor, building materials and tools, as well as a few competing construction guilds. Mor guided you to one of them, apparently the one that the High Lord and Lady had trusted to build their new home next to the Sidra.

“Ah, Marcus, I would like for you to meet Y/N,” Mor said, and Marcus extended his hand to you. His scent was soft, pine trees and fallen snow- an alpha. You take it, noticing his strong but gentle grip. Your shoulders relax slightly, wings spreading slightly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Marcus said in a friendly voice.

“The same to you, Marcus,” you reply, a slight dusting of pink on your cheeks. He is rather handsome, for a High Fae.

“She will more than likely be needing your services, Marcus. Y/N here is planning to open a bakery somewhere in town in the next couple of months,” Mor informed him with a bright smile, one that he flashed back at her, and then turns it toward you. Your breath catches slightly in your throat, and you instinctively smile back at him.

“That sounds nice, I always enjoy a new place to eat at,” He said, still grinning at you.

“Well, once I’m up and running you’ll be more than welcome to drop in whenever you want.”

“I’ll look forward to that day, Y/N. Come back once you know where you’d like to build or renovate, and we can draw up some plans together, okay?”

You nod your head in agreement. “I’ll make sure to do that, Marcus. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you Marcus,” Mor said as she led you out of the shop and back towards the Sidra. Once you were a few buildings down, she asked, “So, do you think he’s cute?”

Your face flushed, and you managed to push out an “I suppose…”

“He’s pretty niiice,” Mor sings, still tugging you along the road next to the Sidra. “And he doesn’t have an omega.”

You shake your head at Mor. “I know Viviane mentioned me finding an alpha, but that’s not really my goal at the moment Mor. And I can also find my own alphas,” You say lightly, tugging on her arm as you did. “Also, you move fast, already trying to set me up.” Mor laughed at that, and you giggle a bit as well as the two of you continue walking, passing cute houses and apartments as you do.

“Well, you’re possibly the cutest single omega in the city at the moment, and Marcus truly is a kind male. And you needed to meet him anyways, for any building needs related to your bakery.” Mor stopped in her tracks, holding you in place by your arm. “This, is the Rainbow,” Mor announces to you.

You gaze around, taking in the colorful buildings that housed everything from painting studios to dance halls. You spied quite a few art supply stores and pottery shops as well, everything so beautiful that your eyes couldn’t choose just one place to land.

Mor draws you further in to the artistic section of town, walking more slowly than any other area you’d gone through today, and you had your wings tucked in tight behind you to avoid brushing against the other fae. Your eyes catch finally on a beautiful painting, one of a cosmic green light fall in the night sky, and you stop moving, taking in every brush stroke on the canvas as quickly as you could. It took your breath away, it was such a magnificent rending of something you could only wish to witness.

“Ah, that is the High Lady’s rendition of Starfall this year,” Mor tells you once she saw where your eyes had locked onto. “Feyre is a magnificent artist, she even hosts classes whenever she has the time, if you’re interested.”

You tear your eyes from the painting to look at Mor. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be any good, really. The most my artistic skills stretch beyond baking is for sketches of my baking,” you laughed, turning to continue your tour once more. “And I’d like to get the bakery up and running before I do many extracurriculars.”

“That makes sense, I suppose, but it’s a good thing to keep in mind. Feyre lets me sneak wine in, so even if my painting turns out terrible, I still have a great time.” The two of you were near the end of the colorful street when you spotted it.

The perfect location, right next to the river and on the edge of the Rainbow was a small one story building, a for sale sign in the window. The building looked decrepit, nearly ready to fall down in your opinion.

You pulled Mor in the direction of it, and let go of her arm to walk around the back of the building.

The view was absolutely lovely, the noise of the river soothing to your ears. You stretched out your wings as you closed your eyes and just listened for a moment, ignoring the noise of the people behind you. Snow was covering the open space behind the building, mostly untouched compared to the streets you had been walking on with Mor.

“Would I be able to buy this lot?” You asked Mor as you spun to face her. “This feels like the perfect place- and there aren’t any other cafés in the Rainbow, as far as I could tell.”

“Of course, Y/N. This building just went up for sale, as well, the previous owner retired a couple of weeks ago.”

You smile at Mor, your eyes sparkling brightly. “Just my luck, then. Do you know about how long it would be for the sale to go through?”

“It should take no more than a few days, Auric seemed very ready to get rid of the place. I’ll set up a meeting for the two of you later today, and if it’s not too late I’ll swing by your room and let you know when it will be. But for now, let’s finish out the tour, then I’ll take you to your hotel,” Mor suggested, holding out an arm.

You grab it once more, allowing her to take you to the last Palace in the city- the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, dedicated to more meats, as well fish, fruits, and vegetables. There were stalls with vendors cooking street food, bowls of noodles and burritos that all smelled delicious- you would definitely be coming back here to try something from each and every fae.

While you were well acquainted with nearly every type of baked good and dessert, different styles of cooking were something you hadn’t been exposed to very often before being trapped Under the Mountain. And while there, you were lucky to get anything besides the imperfect bread you would make.

And after all those years, you had just wanted to taste something familiar, so you stuck with the Winter Court fare you had as a child for the past six years.

But now, smelling everything here and Sevenda’s restaurant? You wanted nothing more than to taste every type of food that you could. Perhaps you would even think of new pastries in the process.

Soon enough, the two of you were back at the townhouse you had arrived in front of with Viviane. Mor popped inside quickly, returning with your bags. She passed one to you as she said “Now that you’ve seen the main parts of Velaris, it’s time to get you to your hotel room so you can relax a bit, settle in some.”

You both crossed the Sidra again, right as snow began to fall. You looked around, taking in the sight of glistening snow, your favorite weather in the world, falling onto the beautiful city that you could now call your own.

“It’s beautiful,” you blurted out without thinking. “Does Velaris suit every season so well?”

Mor looked at you from the corner of her eye, also taking in the scenery. “Yes, it does. I have found every city I’ve visited in Prythian to be beautiful in its own right, but Velaris seems to capture the beauty of every season the best. Of course, I am terribly biased, being from the Night Court and all,” Mor laughed.

She stopped in front of a large building, several floors tall with two balconies on each facing the Sidra. Mor opened the ornately carved wooden door, the words The Sidra Inn engraved on it, revealing a warmly decorated lobby. Behind the reception desk was a slim, bark skinned fae.

“Hello, Mor, it’s good to see you,” the female- a beta- said, extending a hand, which Mor shook readily. Then her eyes turned to you. “And you must be Y/N, our newest resident.” You nod your head in confirmation. “My name is Druana, I’m the owner of this quaint little inn.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Druana.” You take her hand as well, fascinated by the texture of her bark skin. “From what I’ve seen so far, your inn feels like home. It’s very warm, inviting.”

The fae smiles at you. “Thank you, Y/N. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room.” You look to Mor, who hands you your second bag.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Y/N. And if I don’t come by then, I’ll send a letter telling you what time I’ve arranged for you to meet with Auric. Do you want me to bring anything for you when I do come? Any food, clothing, nesting materials?”

Heat creeps up your neck at the last idea. “No, Mor, thank you though. I should be fine, for now. I’ll see you in a bit,” you said, parting ways with the friendly blonde.

Druana led you up a set of stairs and in front of a room on the second floor. She handed you a set of keys, then walked back the way you had come.

You turned the key in the lock, and opened the door to your new home for the foreseeable future. It was spacious, containing a large bed set against the left wall, a dresser, wardrobe, a circular table with two chairs on opposite sides, and your own personal bathroom and kitchenette. It was all decorated in cozy fall colors, reds and oranges and browns everywhere, and a fireplace against the right wall. Opposite the door was a set of double doors, likely leading out to one of the balconies you had seen from the street. You dropped your bags on the floor next to the bed, and went to look at the bathroom, it’s door next to the fireplace.

It was lovely, a deep tub that you knew would fill enough so that you could sink entirely beneath the water. There was also a large counter with two sinks, a large mirror hung above it on the wall. And of course, a toilet that looked suitable enough.

You returned to the bedroom, walking over to the set of doors and pushing them open.

On the street, you hadn’t been able to see the padded rocking chair and small table, but now that you had, you knew you would be reading in it, protected from most of the snow by the small roof covering the patio.

You went back inside, grabbing a romance novel that you had picked up a couple of months ago, but had never gotten around to reading. You also pulled a blanket from the bed.

Being from the Winter Court had given you a mild immunity to freezing weather, it was much more comfortable to sit covered in a blanket.

Before you went back on the balcony, your eyes snagged on the kitchenette- already laying out were a few boxes of tea. You placed the book and blanket on the bed and walked over to the counter.

You looked through the flavors before deciding on a basic green tea. In a few minutes you had brewed a large mug for yourself, and took it and your book and blanket onto the balcony.

You snuggled down into the chair, careful to position your wings so they weren’t squished or pinched anywhere. The blanket came next, and you wrapped it around your legs and dress as much as you could, then over your right arm.

With your left, you spread the book open, happily diving in to the story about childhood friends slowly growing to love each other romantically.

Friendship before love- that could be nice, you thought to yourself as you read, sipping your tea and looking out over the beautiful view of Velaris in front of you.

And now, most likely, you would be able to meet people who didn’t already know you as the tortured omega baker slaving away for Amarantha to keep her grandmother and Court as safe as possible.

Now, people would know you as the omega baker from the Winter Court, hopefully with a cozy bakery and the best pastries that they’ve ever had.

You lost yourself in the book, hoping the entire time that you would find a love to last you forever.

[pickingupmymercedes]

My Venus - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

A MET Gala Special

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Famous!Reader

warnings: fashion world, sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Wrap it before you tap it!!!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: I know it's impossible for anyone to wear the original Venus Dior dress, it's a museum piece and it has been for decades, but it's a fic (and my favorite dress, ever) so let's go with it. Y/n is obviously someone really known in the fashion industry, but I didn't specify how, so it's totally up to you to create a back story.

a/n 2: Kind of a request. I was planning something already but anon gave me amazing ideas, thank horny anon!! Also, smut with a plot, what a shocker for me!!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n toyed with a stray piece of croissant, her gaze flitting from the cityscape outside to Lewis, who was deep in conversation with his stylist.

Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows on the opulent The Mark Hotel’s suite, a golden glow on the remnants of their breakfast. Crumbs danced on the crisp white tablecloth, a playful counterpoint to the elegant silver service glinting in the corner.

Eric, a man perpetually poised on the precipice of tranquility, leaned forward trying the nonchalantly posture as his eyes danced with curiosity. "Come on, Y/n, spill the beans! We’re all vibrating with suppressed curiosity."

Lewis, in is crisp white tee and black joggers, shot Eric a playful glare. "Thanks for that, mate. Subtlety is your strong suit, clearly." He turned to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously, love. The MET is in a few hours, you can tell us."

Y/n, who had mastered her poker face over the last five months of keeping that secret, took a delicate sip of her orange juice. "Let's just say," she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, "it has a very famous sister."

Eric groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh, delightful. Lewis, bro, you're on your own with this one."

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "You're a menace, Y/n." He winked, a shiver running down her spine despite the playful nature of the exchange. But the silence that followed held a different energy, charged with unspoken anticipation.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s something that is going to steal everyone breath away, so maybe it needs a security detail of its own?"

Y/n couldn't help but let a sly smile curve her lips. "Maybe." she teased, leaning in even closer. The scent of his signature cologne, a heady mix of wood and spice, filled her senses. "Maybe it'll have everyone whispering about who dared to wear such a legend."

A low rumble escaped Lewis' chest, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement through her. " An archive, huh?! " He said, his voice husky

Just then, Eric cleared his throat pointedly. "Right, right, all very hush-hush. But remember, Lewis, you have your Burberry fitting this afternoon. We can't have you looking too shabby next to your mystery woman in archives."

Y/n laughed, a light, tinkling sound that filled the room. "Oh, I'm sure Lewis will manage to steal the spotlight anyway."

Lewis winked again, his gaze lingering on her lips. "A competition, isn't it, love?"

Their playful sparring continued through the rest of the lunch, a delicious undercurrent of unspoken attraction running through their every word and glance. As they finished their coffee, the tension in the air thickened, a silent question hanging between them. It was time to leave, to face the world – and the MET Gala – separately.

But Lewis wouldn't let her go without a final flourish. He stood, his gaze holding hers, and offered a hand with a courtly bow. "Until tonight, my fashionista. May the best dresser win."

_______________________________________________________________

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/n stepped out of the limousine, a vision as the cameras flashed like a sudden storm, capturing the first glimpse of her enigmatic beauty. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a palpable wave of awe and recognition as Y/n slowly revealed the legendary Venus dress.

Time seemed to slow. Each step on the red carpet was a carefully choreographed performance, the weight of fashion history settling on her body like a luxurious cloak.

The gown, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery, whispered tales of a bygone era, its every fold a testament to the genius of Christian Dior himself. It clung to her like it had been designed for her. A silent promise of a woman both powerful and breathtakingly beautiful.

Y/n held her head high, a serene and honest smile playing on her lips. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a thrill coursed through her veins. This wasn't just another red carpet.

Lewis, waiting further down the carpet, watched his breath hitch as she came into view. Initially stunned speechless, his jaw dropped in a way that sent the internet into a frenzy.

Here was the woman he knew, the one who matched his every playful jab with witty retorts, transformed into a goddess. He felt a surge of pride, a possessiveness that went beyond what he had felt before with people looking at her.

This was Y/n, his Y/n, stealing the spotlight of the most known fashion event with an audacity as breathtaking as the gown itself.

It was a declaration, a playful rebellion against expectations, most of them that she had created for herself, as she had stablished her style as the non conformative. Still, in The Garden of Time that was the MET, she was bringing one the most known and iconic flowers back to life.

Microphones were being thrusted in her face, a flurry of questions buzzed around her like excited bees, photographers going maniac at the sight of a dress that had been at an exposition for decades months prior being worn.

"Y/n, this is absolutely iconic! How did you manage to borrow this historical piece?" a seasoned entertainment reporter gushed.

Y/n, ever the diplomat, offered a practiced smile. "Let's just say it took a lot of convincing," she replied, the truth a delightful secret she'd keep to herself. "But I believe it was worth the effort."

"Do you feel any pressure wearing such a significant piece of fashion history?" another reporter chimed in.

An understanding glint sparked in Y/n's eyes. "It's a tremendous honour. But pressure is a luxury I don't have time for tonight. It's all about celebrating art, fashion and Christian Dior himself.” Her wit drew laughter and appreciative nods from the crowd, creating a true vision of a woman stunning and intelligent, truly worthy of the Venus.

As Lewis answered his own fielding questions about his Burberry ensemble, he couldn't help but steal glances at her. Her confidence radiated outwards, a magnetic force that drew everyone's attention. He felt a flicker of pride, ever so slightly tinged with a possessiveness that made him want to shout to the world, 'This is my woman.'

"Lewis," a young reporter, eyes wide with admiration, interjected, "What are your thoughts on Y/n's stunning outfit?"

Lewis, ever the charmer, took a playful dig. "Well, let's just say" he drawled, mirroring her earlier cryptic response, "It was worthy of the months of secrecy. She awed everyone as much as she awes me."

As Y/n went up the stairs she found Lewis at the entrance waiting for her, his eyes boring wholes onto her skin. Lewis leaned close, a hand reaching for hers as his voice a huskily murmured "You're incredible, Y/n," his eyes lingering on her "Absolutely breathtaking, love."

Y/n, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her exposed skin, a secret smile played on her lips. There was a thrill in knowing she had surprised him, in seeing the awe and possessiveness flicker in his eyes.

"You know …” she teased, resting her hands on his shoulders as he reached for her waist, a sequence of flashes going off as they showed affection "This was all about making a statement”.

The throng of bodies inside the museum buzzed with an electric energy. As they navigated the crowded halls, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way heads turned their way. Whispers and glances followed them like a second skin.

Lewis, sensing her amusement, leaned in with a smirk. "Enjoying the attention, love?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n deadpanned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "It's not every day I get to feel like a museum exhibit myself."

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, you are a work of art yourself. But you’re also wearing one."

Suddenly, a whirlwind of hair materialized beside them. Zendaya, ever the fashion icon, flashed a dazzling smile. "Y/n, girl! That dress. How?!”

Before Y/n could reply, Zendaya dragged her towards the main exhibition, where Venus’ sister dress – Junon – was center piece, photographers already positioned for the Dior reunion.

Lewis, hovered nearby, a playful smile on his face. Even with the constant interruptions, his gaze never strayed far from Y/n.

As she managed to escape the scene, Y/n couldn't help but notice Lewis's gaze burning into her. "You know," she said, meeting his stare with a smirk, "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Can't blame a guy for appreciating a masterpiece, can you?" he countered, his voice a husky murmur.

Just as Y/n leaned in to retort, a gaggle of socialites descended upon them. Throughout the pleasantries, Y/n couldn't ignore the heated glances Lewis kept throwing her way. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of her shoulders, and a playful glint in his eyes hinted at something more than mere admiration.

Finally, as the speeches began and everyone went to their seats, Lewis leaned in close, pulling her towards his side, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. "They can all look, love." his eyes holding hers. "But you're mine."

The speeches droned on, a monotonous hum that Y/n barely registered. Her focus was solely on Lewis, his hand possessively resting on her hand on her lap. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a stark contrast to the cool of the dress against her skin.

As the formalities dragged on, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Every brush of their bodies, every stolen glance, fueled a fire that threatened to consume them.

"This is torture," he breathed, his breath tickling a sensitive spot on her neck. "All I want is..." he trailed off, his eyes dropping suggestively to the exposed skin of her chest.

Y/n raised an eyebrown, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension in her body language. "Finish that sentence, Lewis" she purred, her voice barely a whisper.

“You, alone." he finished, his voice rough with desire. "Somewhere I don’t need to share."

His hand moved up to her shoulders. His fingers finally grazing the edge of the dress, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/n, emboldened by the setting and the audacity of the dress itself, met his gaze with a playful smile.

"There might be a deserted exhibit around the corner," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "One filled with creatures long extinct."

A wicked grin spread across Lewis's face. "Hm…" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. Every glance from him felt like a branding iron, searing the memory of him onto her skin.

When the event finally came to its end, they navigated the crowd, Lewis's possessiveness evident in the way he kept guiding her by the small of her back, a silent declaration. Every so often, his eyes would flick to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

They managed to get by the crowds unusually quickly, ushered greetings and nods a clear sign everyone wanted out. But, as they approached the exit, a familiar face beamed at them. Stella McCartney, a vision of elegance in her silver dress, rushed forward to greet Y/n.

"Y/n, you look absolutely phenomenal!" Stella exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/n in a warm embrace. "That dress! It's absolutely breathtaking."

Y/n put out a smile. "Thank you, Stella. It was an honor to wear such a piece of history." While Stella gushed about the intricacies of the dress, Lewis tried to exchange a knowing look with Y/n.

The unspoken desire simmering between them was palpable, an energy that crackled in the space between them. Just then, a low chuckle caught Y/n's ear. Gayle King, stood nearby, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Lewis" she started, her voice smooth as silk, "I haven't seen you this speechless in years. Y/n, you've absolutely stolen the show."

Lewis, ever the charmer, offered her a playful smile. " You know Y/n, she has a knack for making an entrance."

Gayle, unfazed by his attempt at deflection, turned to Y/n, her gaze sharp and knowing. "You two," she said, linking her arm in Y/n's, "must tell me all about this later. That dress…and the look on Lewis's face… well, that was priceless”

Y/n, her cheeks burning, couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis. His gaze met hers, a silent conversation passing between them. They both knew Gayle was right, and that everyone had probably also seen his gaze.

As they reached the exit, Gayle pulled Y/n to the side, their voices dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Keep doing whatever you're doing, Y/n" Gayle said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaning in even closer "That boy is absolutely smitten.”

Y/n couldn't help but let out a soft laugh "Thanks, Gayle" she whispered back. With a final hug, Gayle retreated to her own car, leaving Y/n and Lewis to get into theirs. The tension between them thick, a charged silence that spoke volumes as Lewis held open the car door for her.

He slid into the car beside her, wasting no time in letting his hand roam up under the dress, reaching her thighs in no time. A devilish grin spreading across his face, leaned in close. "She's right, love" he murmured, his voice husky. "You've got me completely wrapped around your fingers."

The heat of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. He caressed the soft skin, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to her hips. Y/n, unable to contain a shiver, bit her lip. "Lew" she breathed, her voice laced with a playful warning. "Careful now. We're not exactly alone."

He chuckled but continued his exploration, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of her dress. The driver, through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but steal a glance. Y/n, catching a glimpse of his reflection, couldn't help but feel a thrill of exhibitionism mixed with a playful desire to tease Lewis further.

As Lewis's hand continued its ascent, his fingers brushed against a smooth, unexpected surface. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. A beat of silence hung in the air before it dawned on him. No underwear.

"Couldn't risk an underwear line ruining this moment" her voice laced with a playful challenge. The audacity of her statement, coupled with the realization, made his breath hitch in his throat, raw desire clouding his eyes.

He pulled his hand back abruptly, a silent promise hanging in the air. The confined space crackling with unspoken desire.

As Y/n stole a glance at him, her heart pounded in her chest. He was trying to control himself, a clear struggle evident in the way he held his breath and clenched his jaw. The bulge in his trousers, who had been previously concealed by his trench coat, was now a very visible sign to his arousal.

"Not long until we get back, Love" Lewis finally managed, his voice husky with frustration. He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his braids in a frustrated gesture. Y/n, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, let out a low chuckle.

Relief washed over both of them as they pulled into the hotel. A small army materialized around them. Her team, ever-efficient, whisked them towards her suite, their focus solely on getting her out of the Venus dress.

Throughout the undressing, Lewis hovered on the periphery, his eyes laser-focused on Y/n. He watched with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Every so often, he would discreetly lick his lips, a gesture that spoke volumes of his pent-up desire.

The process was a delicate ballet – a team of stylists unhooking intricate clasps, another carefully lowering the billowing skirt. Finally, wrapped in a plush towel, Y/n stood alone with Lewis, her team discreetly melting away, a knowing smile playing on their lips.

Lewis crossed the room in two long strides, the heat of anticipation crackling in the air between them. His hand reached out, almost hesitantly, to brush a strand of her now loosened hair. The touch, seemingly casual, sent a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all evening.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Beautiful, captivating, and all mine. Only mine."

His words hung in the air like a promise, the most possessive claim she had ever heard from him. They resonated deep within her, stirring something primal. As her heart pounded in her chest, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, seeking solace and desire in his embrace.

"All yours," she whispered, her voice thick with longing. Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and raw emotion. In that moment, the playful banter of the night melted away, replaced by a raw hunger that neither could – or wanted – to deny.

Each second ticked by like a whisper of urgency. They had only about twenty minutes before they were due to leave for the after-party. With practiced efficiency born of desire, she threw the towel onto the bed, leaving herself bare before him, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

Lewis's eyes roamed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as she reached down to undress him from his pants. "Don't have time for that, love," he murmured, his hands stopping hers with a swift motion.

With a sudden shift of momentum, he flipped her, his hands tracing over her tummy as he left a trail of kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, her breath hitching with every touch of his lips against her skin.

His hands ventured lower with each kiss, until they reached her folds, his touch igniting a primal hunger within her. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers delved into her depths, drawing out her arousal with a skillful touch that left her trembling with desire.

Feeling the urgency of their fleeting moments, she flipped around, dropping to her knees to palm him through his boxers. The outline of his thick arousal was already prominent, and she freed it eagerly, the velvet hardness filling her hands. With practiced skill, she teased him, eliciting a delicious hiss of pleasure as she took him into her mouth, savoring the taste of him.

But time was slipping away and they both knew it. Five minutes had already slipped by, according to the bedside clock. His hands gripped her chin, pulling her up "I promise later we can take our time, but I need your pussy right now," he breathed, urgency lacing his words with a desperate plea.

With a hungry nod, she positioned herself, elbows resting on the armchair, presenting herself to him with a silent invitation. The tip of his arousal teased her entrance, collecting her slickness before he plunged into her with a single, deep thrust. A sharp cry escaped her lips as he bottomed out, his hands soothing the skin of her hips as he waited for her signal to move.

"Lew" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for release. His fingers circled her clit, igniting a fire within her as he began to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of oblivion.

It didn't take long before she was panting, her body trembling with the force of her climax. Lewis held her close, whispering words of encouragement as she rode the wave of ecstasy, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared passion.

As she steadied herself, he resumed his frenzied thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself inside her, holding her tightly as their bodies trembled with shared pleasure, the world fading away into a haze of ecstasy.

When he pulled out, she turned into his embrace, cupping his face in her hands as she gazed into his eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. "They can look all they want, but you're the one here," she declared, pulling him into a passionate kiss, sealing their bond with a promise of devotion and desire.

His hands left her only briefly to clean her up before dressing himself, his movements slow and deliberate as he savored the lingering moments of what had just happened.

As he emerged in his Dior attire, abs on full display, Y/n's eyes sparkled, a playful challenge in her voice. "Guess, you're the one drawing all the attention now," she teased as she admired him.

Lewis chuckled, his gaze lingering on her in the black Dior mini. "You don't look too bad yourself, love," he countered, his voice a low rumble.

He pulled her close, his hand trailing down her back. "But trust me," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "tonight, the only eyes I care about are yours."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

[onebadassunicorn]

All I Want Is You

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: pure fluff and SMUT (18+), light bondage

word count: 4.5k

Taglist: @firefly-forest @salvatoresister1 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @batboyslutt @tiredsleepyhead

Read previous chapters here:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

******

Chapter 5

Azriel POV

Weeks after Y/n and Ella Bear had settled into Azriel’s townhouse and the mating ceremony was complete, the Shadowsinger had something special planned. The winter chill had begun to lift, and Velaris was bathed in the soft light of early spring. Azriel had been secretive about the surprise, giving Y/n no hints beyond a cryptic smile and the assurance that she would love it.

“Just trust me, baby,” he said softly that morning, kissing her forehead as he bundled up Ella Bear in her favorite coat and her tiny boots. Y/n, curious but willing to follow his lead, held Ella Bear as Azriel wrapped his arms around his girls and flew them to their destination.

When they landed, the air was crisp and fresh, and the faint scent of blooming flowers filled the air. Y/n gasped softly. Before them stood a picturesque cottage nestled in a meadow at the edge of a forest. The stone facade was charming and warm, with ivy climbing up one side and a thatched roof that made it look like it belonged in a dream. A small stream ran along the property, its gentle babble adding to the serenity of the scene.

“Az,” she whispered, her green eyes wide as she looked up at him. “What is this?”

Azriel smiled, his hazel eyes filled with warmth. He squeezed her hand gently, his wings rustling behind him. “It’s ours,” he said simply.

“Ours?” Her voice trembled as realization dawned.

He nodded, his gaze soft but steady. “I bought it for us. For you, me, and Ella Bear. I wanted us to have a place that was truly ours—a home where we could build a life together.”

Her breath hitched, her hand flying to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. “Az, I—”

Before she could finish, Ella Bear’s excited voice cut through the moment. “It’s so pretty!” she exclaimed, tugging at her father’s hand. “Can we go inside, Daddy?”

Azriel chuckled softly, crouching down to pick her up. “Of course, Ella Bear,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s see your new home.”

With Y/n still wiping tears from her cheeks, Azriel led them inside. The interior of the cottage was cozy and inviting, with warm wooden beams, a stone fireplace, and soft rugs scattered across the floors. The scent of fresh wood and faint traces of lavender lingered in the air.

“Azriel, this is…” Y/n trailed off, her voice breaking as she looked around.

“Come with me,” Azriel said, taking her hand again. He guided her and Ella Bear down a short hallway to a door that was slightly ajar.

He set Ella Bear back on her feet and when he pushed the door open, Y'n's heart nearly stopped. The room was painted in soft pastel colors, and every surface was adorned with toys, books, and tiny decorations that screamed joy and childhood wonder. A plush bed with a dragon-shaped pillow sat against the far wall, and shelves were lined with everything a child could ever want.

Ella Bear’s face lit up like the sun. “Is this… my room?” she squeaked, her voice filled with awe as she took in the space.

Azriel smiled, his chest tightening at her reaction. “It’s all yours,” he said softly. “Auntie Feyre and Auntie Mor helped me make it perfect for you.”

The little girl squealed with delight, running to the bed and climbing up, clutching her toy dragon tightly. “It’s the best room ever!” she declared, spinning around to look at everything.

Y/n turned to Azriel, her tears falling freely now. “You did all this?��� she asked, her voice breaking.

He nodded, his gaze holding hers. “You and Ella Bear deserve the best,” he said simply. “I wanted this to be a place where we could start fresh—a home for our family.”

She stepped closer, her arms wrapping around his neck as she buried her face against his chest. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Azriel held her tightly, his wings curling slightly around her in a protective embrace. “I love you too,” he murmured. He pulled back and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

From her perch on the bed, Ella Bear giggled. “Mommy and Daddy are kissing again!”

Y/n laughed through her tears, pulling back just enough to look at him. “You’ve given us more than I ever dreamed of, Az. Thank you.”

Azriel smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “No thanks needed. You’re home now, Baby. Both of you. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

******

Azriel POV

Azriel and Y/n left Ella Bear happily playing in her new room, her laughter ringing out as she explored every toy and nook with unrestrained joy. Azriel turned to Y/n with a soft smile.

“Shall we see the rest of the house?” he asked, his voice low and warm.

She nodded, still wiping the lingering tears from her cheeks. “Lead the way,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion but laced with excitement.

Azriel guided her through the rest of the cottage, his wings rustling faintly as they walked. Every room was thoughtfully designed, the charm of the stone walls and wooden beams creating a cozy yet elegant atmosphere.

They came to a second room down the hall, its door slightly ajar. Azriel pushed it open, revealing a space bathed in soft light. It was simple yet welcoming, with a small bed, a sturdy dresser, and an empty bookshelf waiting to be filled. The neutral colors gave the room a sense of openness, as if it were waiting for its purpose.

“This is beautiful,” she said, running her hand along the frame of the bed. “It feels like it’s waiting for someone.”

Azriel stood behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he breathed her in before placing a kiss on the side of her neck. “It is,” he said softly. “If… we ever want to grow our family, there’s space here for more children. For siblings for Ella Bear.”

She turned to him, her green eyes wide with surprise. “You’ve thought about that?” she asked, her voice quiet.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve thought about everything, Y/n. I want more children with you, Baby. Perhaps a son that has my wings and his mother’s captivating green eyes.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she reached up, cupping his cheek as she smiled. “You’re an incredible man, Azriel,” she said softly.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before taking her hand and leading her to the next room. The third bedroom was similar to the second, equally filled with potential. She lingered in the doorway, already envisioning what could be—a nursery, perhaps, or a room for another child to grow and dream.

Finally, Azriel guided her to the master bedroom. When he opened the door, she gasped softly. The room was grand yet cozy, with a large fireplace built into the stone wall and a massive four-poster bed draped with soft, inviting linens. A plush rug covered the wooden floor, and the warm light from the fireplace gave the room a golden glow.

“Azriel,” she whispered, stepping inside. “This is… perfect.”

He watched her with a quiet smile as she ran her fingers along the edge of the bed, her gaze taking in every detail—the intricate carvings on the wooden posts, the cozy seating area near the hearth, the soft curtains framing the windows that overlooked the meadow outside.

“I wanted this room to feel like us,” he said, his voice steady. “A place where we could retreat, where we could be together and build a life filled with love.”

She turned to him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “You’ve thought of everything,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “This is more than I ever dreamed of.”

Azriel stepped closer, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her gently against him. “You’re my mate,” he said softly. “I’ve spent years imagining what our life could look like. Now that you’re here, I want to make all of it a reality.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks again, but she was smiling. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel stepped into the small but cozy cottage with the last box of their belongings, the scent of pine and freshly hewn wood filling the air. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting golden light over the simple furnishings and the little details Y/n had insisted on—embroidered cushions, delicate curtains, and a soft woven rug that their daughter had immediately sprawled out on as soon as they’d arrived. It wasn’t the grand River House or the sprawling House of Wind, but it was perfect. It was theirs.

Azriel glanced over at Y/n, who was standing near the hearth with their daughter in her arms. Her dark hair glowed in the firelight, and her eyes sparkled with the joy of this new beginning. He felt a pang in his chest, a feeling so full it almost hurt.

“Ready for bed, my little Ella Bear?” Azriel asked their daughter, his voice soft as he approached. She yawned dramatically, resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder with a sleepy smile.

“I’m not tired,” she mumbled, though her drooping eyes betrayed her.

Y/n chuckled and handed her over to Azriel. “Not tired at all, huh?” she teased, brushing a gentle kiss to their daughter’s forehead before stepping aside to let him take over.

Azriel carried her to the small bedroom Auntie Feyre and Auntie Mor had prepared just for her. The little bed was piled high with plush blankets and a stuffed dragon from Uncle Cassian she refused to sleep without.

Tucking her in, Azriel smoothed her dark hair away from her face, his shadows curling protectively around the edges of the room as if to guard her dreams. “Goodnight, my sweet Ella Bear. Daddy loves you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, Daddy,” she murmured, her tiny hand reaching for his as her eyes fluttered shut.

Azriel lingered for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall with each even breath, before silently slipping out of the room. He closed the door just enough to let a sliver of firelight peek in.

When he turned, Y/n was leaning against the doorframe of their own bedroom, her arms crossed and a soft smile playing on her lips. “She’s out like a light,” she whispered.

Azriel crossed the space between them, his hands sliding around her waist as he drew her close. “Our first night here,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Feels… surreal.”

She looked up at him, her hands resting on his chest. “Feels like home,” she replied, her voice just as soft.

He kissed her then, slow and deep, pouring everything he felt—love, gratitude, desire—into the connection. She melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as he guided her back into their new bedroom.

The bed was freshly made with crisp linen sheets.

It wouldn’t remain pristine for long.

He found himself pulling her into his arms, his lips crashing down on hers in a kiss that was both possessive and reverent. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss, her body pressing against his with unspoken urgency.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their chests rising and falling in sync. Her green eyes were dark with desire, and she took a step back, her hands moving to the ties of her robe. Slowly, deliberately, she let the fabric slide off her shoulders, pooling at her feet to reveal the lingerie she wore beneath—a delicate set of black lace that left little to the imagination.

Azriel’s gaze raked over her, his hunger palpable. “You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice rough with need.

She smiled, a wicked curve of her lips, and reached for him again.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said, her fingers deftly working to rid him of his remaining clothes.

Once they were both bare, skin to skin, she led him to the bed, pushing him gently onto the soft surface. She climbed atop him, her thighs straddling his hips, and leaned down to kiss him again, her movements slow and deliberate. Her lips traced a path down his neck, her teeth grazing his skin in a way that made him groan.

But then she pulled away, leaving him aching for more, and reached for the tie from her robe.

She ran it lightly along his chest, watching his reaction with a predatory gleam in her eye. “Do you trust me?” she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Azriel’s breath hitched, but he nodded without hesitation. “With everything that I am.”

Her smile was blinding as she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “Then let me take charge tonight.”

Slowly, meticulously, she began to bind his wrists with the silken rope, her gaze never leaving his. “You belong to me,” she whispered, her voice a caress against his skin. “And I belong to you.”

The words echoed in the stillness of the chamber, a truth neither of them could deny. As she worked, her hands moved with practiced ease, her touch both gentle and firm. When she finally stepped back, Azriel lay exposed, vulnerable in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

Her fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down his chest, her nails grazing the firm planes of his muscles. Azriel’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched her hand travel down further.

“You’re not going to get away so easily,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. Her lips brushed against his ear, her warm breath ghosting over his skin. “I’m just getting started and we have all night.”

Her hand slid lower, and Azriel groaned, his hips involuntarily bucking forward as her hand found him, already hard and aching for release.

Fuck.

He could feel the heat pooling low in his spine, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke of her hand.

“Patience,” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement as she pulled her hand away, leaving him throbbing and wanting.

Azriel’s breath caught as her hands settled on his hips, her green eyes locking with his as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her long black hair, but with his wrists bound, all he could do was lay back and watch as she slowly swirled her tongue around him in dizzying patterns and sucked him deep into her warm, wet mouth.

Holy Gods.

His head fell back, a low growl escaping his throat as pleasure shot through him like wildfire.

“Do you like this?” she purred, her voice a velvety caress. “Watching your cock disappear in my mouth?”

Azriel couldn’t form a coherent response, lost in the dual sensations of her mouth on him She took him deeper, her throat constricting around him in a way that threatened to undo him completely.

But then, suddenly, she pulled away, her lips glistening as she looked up at him with a wicked grin. “My turn,” she said, rising to her feet and pushing him back onto the bed.

Azriel barely had time to process what was happening before she straddled him. His gaze raked over her, drinking in the sight of her perfect breasts, the curve of her hips, the way her body seemed to glow in the fire light from the hearth.

“Gods baby, you're killing me,” he breathed, his voice rough with want.

Her smile was soft, almost shy, as she leaned down to kiss him, her lips lingering against his in a way that made his heart ache. But then she broke the kiss, shifting her weight so she could finally sink down onto him, her warmth enveloping him completely, Azriel thought he might lose his mind.

She rocked her hips, her pace agonizingly slow as she took him deep, her walls clenching around him. Her hands skimmed over body, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples until she moaned, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Azriel’s cock.

Azriel’s hands itched to touch her but remained bound above his head. “So fucking gorgeous," he rasped as he drank in the sight of her riding him. "You feel… perfect,” he ground out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Like you were made for me.”

Her breath hitched, her pace faltering for a moment as those words soak into her. Then she leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that left them both breathless.

Her hands moved lower, finding her clit and circling it in tight, maddening strokes. She cried out, her body trembling as pleasure surged through her, her walls tightening around Azriel in a way that nearly pushed him over the edge.

“That’s it, baby. Come on me,” Azriel urged, his voice a seductive command. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

She obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her in waves as she clenched around him, milking him as she rode out every last wave of ecstasy. Azriel groaned, his own climax ripping through him a moment later, spilling himself deep inside her.

******

Azriel POV

While he was still seated inside her, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “There’s something I want to show you… something extraordinary. It’s a mating ceremony gift passed down from generations in our family. My brother gave it to me after our mating ceremony and I’ve been saving it for the perfect time. It’s… magical.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity warring with the haze of pleasure clouding his mind. “Magical?” he echoed, his voice rough.

“Mmm,” She hummed, her fingers trailing along his jawline. “It enhances pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever felt. But it’s not for the faint of heart. Think you can handle it, Shadowsinger?”

Mother above.

Her confidence and cockiness in the bedroom was so fucking sexy.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, his lips curved into a slow smile, though his heart pounded in anticipation. “Try me.”

She slid off of him, moving toward the nightstand where a small, ornate box sat. She opened it with a reverence that made Azriel’s curiosity spike. Inside was a delicate chain necklace with a pendant that glowed faintly, its light shifting between hues of violet and gold.

“This,” she said, lifting the necklace carefully, “is the Amulet of Adriata. It heightens sensation—every touch, every kiss, every whisper will feel like fire on your skin. And it binds your senses to mine. Whatever I feel, you feel. And vice versa.”

Azriel’s breath caught at the idea, his body already responding to the thought of being so intimately connected to her. “How does it work?”

She moved closer, the amulet dangling from her fingers. “I place it on you, and then…” She paused, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “You surrender to it. Completely.”

Her voice dropped to a sultry murmur. “Azriel, let me take you somewhere you’ve never been before.”

He could feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her desire reflecting his own. His voice was low, almost a growl.

“Do it.”

She stepped forward, the amulet glowing brighter as she lifted it over his head. The moment it touched his skin, a jolt of electric pleasure shot through him, making him gasp. His vision blurred momentarily, and when it cleared, everything felt… sharper. Every brush of air against his skin, every sound in the room, every scent—it all came into focus with overwhelming clarity.

But more than that, he could feel her.

Her excitement.

Her arousal.

Her anticipation.

It was as if her emotions were entwined with his own, threading through him like a second heartbeat.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh…” she whispered, her hand coming up to rest on her chest. “I can feel you. Your… your hunger. And your restraint. Gods, Azriel, you’re holding back so much.” She climbed back over him, straddling him on the bed, lowering herself onto his cock.

He swallowed hard, his body trembling under the onslaught of sensations. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Let go, Az,” she interrupted, her voice firm but soft. “That’s what this is for. To let go.”

Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. When she kissed him, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Her lips were soft, but the amulet amplified every movement, every press of her mouth against his. It was as if she wasn’t just kissing him—she was consuming him.

Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers dancing over his skin with a feather-light touch that sent sparks racing through him. He could feel her pleasure mingling with his own, the connection between them deepening with every passing moment.

When she finally pulled away, her breathing was ragged, her eyes dark with desire. “Now,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Touch me.”

She untied his wrists and Azriel didn’t hesitate. His hands found her hips, rocking her against him as he pushed and pulled her over his cock. He slid one hand down between her legs and began to slowly circle his thumb on her clit as his cock continued to rock inside of her. The moment his hands made contact, a shudder ran through both of them, their connection flaring bright and hot.

She moaned softly, her body arching into his touch. “Gods, Azriel…”

He could feel every tremor of her body, every hitch of her breath, every beat of her heart. It was intoxicating.

Overwhelming.

And yet, he wanted more.

He sat up on the bed as she sat straddled his lap, chest to chest, and continued to rock her hips, her hands tangled in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as she pulled him closer. “More,” she gasped, her voice raw with need. “Please, Azriel, more.”

His control shattered. With a growl, he grabbed her ass and stood up, wrapping her legs around his waist and walked her backwards to the wall, pressing her against it as his arms slid under her thighs, sliding her up and down on his cock.

The amulet pulsed with each touch, each kiss, each whispered plea, binding them together in a web of sensation that left no room for thought, only feeling. Azriel lost himself in her, in the way her body moved against his, in the way her pleasure became his own.

The bond between them flared brightly, and Azriel could feel her climax building, echoing within him.

When it finally hit, it was explosive. She shuddered, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Azriel followed her over the edge, his own release spilling into her as the bond between them surged with blinding intensity.

For a moment, they stayed like that, caught in the aftermath, their bodies pressed together against the wall as they struggled to catch their breath. He lowered his head to the crook of her neck and planted small, featherlight kisses on her soft skin.

And as the night stretched on, they explored every inch of each other, the amulet guiding them deeper and deeper into a world of ecstasy where nothing existed but the two of them and the fire that burned hot and bright between them.

******

Azriel POV

Afterward, as they lay tangled in the sheets, the moonlight streamed through the windows of their cottage, casting a soft glow across the room as Azriel lay in bed, Y/n nestled against his side. Her steady breathing brushed against his skin, and the faint scent of her filled the air, grounding him in a way nothing else ever could.

Azriel stared up at the ceiling, his hand trailing gently along the curve of her bare back.

The warmth of her body against his own was a sensation he would never take for granted. Not after centuries of believing he'd never deserve such a thing, let alone that the Mother would bless him with it.

With her.

She stirred slightly, her lips brushing against his chest as she murmured something unintelligible in her half-asleep state. A small smile curved his lips.

His mate.

His perfect match in every way.

Azriel's mind wandered back to the moments they'd just shared-raw, consuming, and electric. She was unlike anything he could have imagined: fierce and yielding, soft yet demanding, and utterly unashamed to explore where his sexual appetites lingered. She didn't shy away from the intensity of his desire; she matched it with her own, meeting him thrust for thrust, touch for touch, until they both lost themselves in the heat and power of their connection.

He had always kept his deepest desires locked away, hidden behind the stoicism he was known for. Shadows were his domain, and secrets were his trade. Yet, she had unraveled him piece by piece, revealing not only the man beneath the warrior but the untamed hunger that had always burned within. And she hadn't run from it. She had embraced it, embraced him, with a fire that matched his own.

Azriel's shadows danced lightly around the room, as if celebrating the bond they shared. It wasn't just about the physical connection they had - though the physical was extraordinary. It was about how completely they understood each other, how seamlessly they fit. In every kiss, every whispered word, and every shared breath, they became one, losing themselves in each other only to emerge stronger.

He tightened his arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She shifted, her green eyes fluttering open, sleepy but curious. "What are you thinking about?" she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.

He gazed down at her, sliding his hand up from her back to her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve. "About how lucky I am," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of his emotions. "To have you. To be yours. To be with someone who knows me so completely and... shares all of me."

A teasing smile curved her lips as she shifted to rest her chin on his chest. "All of you, huh?" she murmured, her fingers trailing down his torso, making him shiver. "Even the parts you used to think you had to hide?"

"Especially those parts," he replied, his voice dropping to a low rumble. His hand moved to cup her face, tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes. "You make me feel whole, baby. Like every part of me-light and dark— belongs with you."

Her gaze softened, and she leaned up to kiss him, slow and tender. "That's because you do," she whispered against his lips. "We're one, Azriel. Always."

He held her tightly, his heart full to bursting. As her warmth enveloped him once more, Azriel made a silent vow to himself and to the stars: to cherish her, to honor her, and to thank the Mother every day for this life-for this woman and this little girl.

His girls.

His whole world.

His everything.

Y/n rested her head on his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over his skin. “This is where we’re meant to be,” she whispered, her voice heavy with contentment and exhaustion.

Azriel pressed a kiss to her hair, his shadows still lingering around them as if unwilling to leave this sacred moment unprotected. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice no louder than a breath. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. She’s perfect.”

As the firelight dimmed and sleep began to claim them, the quiet peace of their little cottage wrapped around them like a second blanket.

It wasn’t just a house.

It was home.

And it was everything Azriel had ever dreamed of.

Chapter 6

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

heyy! i was thinking about how schlatt is generally a private person, so could you please write about what it would be like trying to hide the relationship and the eventual reveal? thank you!

he's so absurdly paranoid

at home? always has to be touching you

holding your hand, sitting with your legs touching, little kisses all over your face, neck, arms, anywhere he can get to

but with the blinds closed and all cameras facing away from you two

date nights are either inside or with a third person so you can brush it off as three friends hanging out

but he plays footsies with you under the tablecloth because he can get away with it

would avoid flirting with you on camera, which leads to people noticing the different way he treats you, how he looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars, how he laughs genuinely at all of your jokes, how he just stares at you when he doesn't think he's in frame

and then one day you're both at let's say mizkif's house because when is that man not recording, you both think you're safe and out of view, but then another streamer decides to sneak up on you guys (shushing their audience and everything) and ends up capturing you two in a sweet kiss

schlatt holding your hip with one hand to pull you closer, the other used to lean against the wall and cage you in to keep you there

the cleanup for the slip was EXHAUSTING

took all of your mods about 3 weeks to finally calm down the angry simps and the obsessive shippers

couldnt take the clip down, you finally got one down and three more appear

he's still not comfortable with pda, but he does calm down a bit about how strict he is about it

finally having 2 person dates (rip Ted probably)

everyone calls you jambo and [ERROR]'s mom, regardless of your gender

speaking of gender

he has another mass purge of followers, but this time anyone who says anything bad about you being a woman/man/nb/cis/trans/etc.

minecraft wedding

the rocks in your background are all from him and his few trips outside

(lots from Japan)

NSFW

some people notice a little big something in schlatt's pants when he looks at you too long

everytime you two have to stream all day, or are otherwise unable to get a moment to yourselves to sneak a kiss, he makes absolutely SURE that he makes up for it

going for hours, making you cum at LEAST 5 times

every position you two can get in

he doesn't care how many times he finishes, or if he even does

he just wants to show you how absolutely LOVED you are

AAAAAAAA FIRST EVER FIC/HCs/ANYTHING, PLEASE LIKE IF YOU LIKE IT, COMMENT, SEND REQUESTS, ETC.

p.s. my keyboard doesn't have a caps lock cause im on a fucking chromebook

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 9

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, oral (male receiving), Dom!Terry, Jealous!Terry, spanking *if you squint*, slight exhibitionism, rough sex

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 6 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 7 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 8 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

After exiting the shower, I wanted nothing more than to nap. I wrapped the towel around my body and walked into the bedroom.

I walked to the side of the dresser where my clothes were. Terry had given me half of the eight drawers once he realized I was coming over more often. I stood before the mirrored dresser, turning around and checking myself out. My hair was poofy and falling out of my puff. I sighed deeply, knowing my arms would be suffering later. It was time for a protective style, whether box braids, micro twists, or a sew-in. I was definitely not about to be fighting with my hair any longer than I needed to.

I grabbed my vanilla cashmere body lotion from the dresser. It was not only my favorite scent but my signature. I was a vanilla girl through and through. I slowly walked over to the window and noticed the rain had slowed. The sun was slowly making an appearance through the thinning clouds. Faint streams of light beamed through the slits in the blinds.

The window was tall and almost floor-to-ceiling. It was the perfect height for me to use the window sill as a ledge. Raising the blinds, I propped my left leg on the small ledge. My foot rested in a small opening between the two sheer curtain panels. The soft creamy white color made them easier to see out of.

I pumped the lotion into the palm of my hands and began working it into my legs, alternating between the two. I took my time with every inch of my body, paying close attention to my tension areas. My thighs unintentionally became an area of extra attention. I slid the towel back on my legs a little more to work my way up my thighs. Pressing and kneading my inner thighs, I let out a small moan. I needed this. The muscles in my thighs were stiff and tense from all the running around I had been doing.

I made a mental note to ask Terry for a massage. I didn't care if it led to me getting put through a mattress. Fuck it! Terry's hands were like feathers guided by God. They knew exactly how to move and how much pressure to apply, and Lord, did they know exactly where to be to get me going.

Unknowingly, I had fallen into my own thoughts. Daydreaming about Terry's hands all over me made me put mine between my legs. I was absentmindedly rubbing my hand over the lips of my pussy. I dragged my fingers back and forth through my folds, letting my fingers stroke the underside of my clit. I slid my fingers back again, dipping into my hole. I moaned into the air as my breathing became harsh and ragged.

I quickly drew my hand back when I realized what I was doing. I instantly felt my cheeks grow hot. I had gotten so lost in pleasuring myself that I didn't even know how long I had been doing it. How had I managed to work myself up this bad?

I shook off the self-imposed sexual tension and finished lotioning my skin. I skipped over my chest because I knew I was just going to make it worse if I even so much as grazed my breasts.

Once finished, I turned to toss the lotion bottle on the bed and grabbed the underwear I had laid out. I was giving up on the idea of going outside. I was about to use this rain as an excuse to relax and get on Terry's last nerve. I slid the underwear on. While staring out the window, I got this eerie feeling that I was being watched. I looked around the open parking lot and checked the neighbors’ windows. I didn't see anyone or notice anything obvious so I tried to calm myself down.

As I turned around to walk to the bed, I ran into what felt like a brick wall. I stumbled backward but was grabbed by a set of hands I was all too familiar with— Terry's.

“Havana Rose, the hell you doin'?” Terry asked through gritted teeth. His hands tightened around my waist. I could sense the tension from his grip alone. Terry's head was tilted, and his jaw was tight. His face was scrawled with anger, but why was he angry?

I reached out to touch his forearm. “Terry, you okay?” I asked nervously.

“Nah, mama. You need to answer my damn question first. What…the…hell…were…you…doin'?” Terry asked again, annunciating every word.

“Nothin’, why? Is everything okay, baby?” I asked, moving closer to Terry.

“Nah, you know exactly what you did,” he said, placing his forehead on mine.

The intensity of Terry's stare let me know I was in deep shit. What had I done? I was at a loss because my mind was drawing a blank.

“What were you just doin' in front of that window, huh? Tell me, mama. What…were… you…doin'?” Terry asked, his hand moving to grip the side of my face.

He tilted my head back so I was looking directly at him. I stuttered through my thoughts. Nothing was coming together. I was in trouble and didn't know why.

“Daddy, can you just tell me? I wasn't doing anything that I'm aware of. I swear… this ain't me playin’. Terry?” I babbled finally able to form a semi-coherent thought.

“When you were in front of that window, where were your hands?” Terry asked, snaking his hand from my face to the back of my head.

“I was putting on lotion. So, I guess,… they were on me,” I stammered. I was praying that was the right answer.

“Nah, after that! Better yet, what were you doin' with them after puttin’ on lotion ‘Vana?” Terry snapped. His voice was low and rumbly. Every word carried through his chest like a roar.

“Fine. Come here. Maybe, this'll help!” Terry said, guiding me back to the window. “Stand right there and show me what you were doin'!” Terry boomed.

“Okay!” I yelled back as I turned to face the window.

“Oh, this ain't the time for you to have a damn attitude, ‘Vana. Now, show me!” Terry snapped.

I mentally went through all of my motions— feet, legs, arms, thighs…. Shit! My eyes widened in horror and embarrassment.

“Yeah, if I could see you doin' it, only God knows who else. Why would you stand in front of a window playin’ with yourself?” Terry said, closing in the space behind me.

His chest was now pressed into my back. He leaned down so his lips were touching my ear.

“So, we giving the neighbors a show?” Terry asked.

“No, I didn't mean to. I just thought no one could see me. I'm sorry,” I said, turning to face Terry.

“Mmm mmm, stay facing the window,” Terry said, leaning up again.

I could hear Terry moving behind me. I tried to peek over my shoulder. I was growing anxious and tense. I didn't know what Terry was doing behind me.

Out of my peripheral, I saw Terry's shirt land on the floor. Before I could question him, I heard his belt buckle clinking. He was undressing! I heard his pants rustling amidst my panicking. I could hear his pants hit the floor. Without warning, he kicked those to be in a pile with his shirt.

“Terry…,” I whined, twiddling with my thumbs. I was biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I winced at the pain.

“Don't talk. Just listen,” he said, pushing up the back of the towel and pulling down my underwear.

His hands began to caress and rub all over my bare ass.

“You know I have half a mind to tear yo’ ass up, but what good would a spankin’ do? I say… since you wanna put on a show for the neighbors, let's put on a show,” he said, leaning into me.

“But I didn't mean to… I swear. I was thinkin' about… you,” I whined, shrinking underneath him.

“Thinkin’ about me, huh? What were you thinkin’ about?” Terry asked, pressing his hips into my ass. His dick was hard and begging to be released from his boxers.

“You… um… touchin’ me,” I moaned out.

“You lyin' to me, baby girl?” Terry asked, placing one of his hands between us. I could feel him free his dick, causing it to poke the back of my ass.

I shrank down, moaning into the feeling. Terry instantly pulled me back up. Throwing his hands around me, he locked me in place. I had nowhere to run.

“You know Mr. Fitz was outside near the side of the building. When I pulled up, he was looking all strange and staring at the sky. Just for me to realize… he was lookin' at you. You had that poor old man stuck, girl. How do you feel about that?” Terry asked, grabbing a patch of hair at the nape of my neck.

“I didn't see anyone. It just happened. I started daydreamin’ and got lost in it. That's why I stopped,” I mewled.

By the way Terry was moving and the tone of his voice, I knew where this was going.

“That's the problem. YOU didn't see anyone, but I did. You like showing people what's mine? You liked the thought of someone seein’ you, huh? Is that what you want ‘Vana? You want the neighbors to see how nasty you can get? Their precious little baby girl…,” Terry huffed, using his feet to push mine apart.

He used his body weight to bend me over. His hand stayed in its place, tangled in my messy hair. He dipped his hips so his dick was positioned at my entrance. His other hand disappeared between us. I felt him guide the tip of his dick inside me.

“Since you wanna give them a show, let's give them one. I wanna Oscar-worthy performance outta you. Understood?” Terry barked.

“Yes, Daddy. I understand,” I said, leaning into him. There was nothing else I could do.

“You… better… show… out,” Terry annunciated through gritted teeth.

Without another word, he pushed his dick inside of me. My pussy pushed him out, begging for a little relief. He pushed half of himself back in, stoking into me slowly.

“What’s wrong? You can’t take Daddy’s dick all of a sudden?” he asked, mocking me.

I couldn't focus on a fuckin’ word that was coming out of his mouth. I was already struggling to breathe and stay upright. I reached out to hold onto the frame of the window. Before I could gather myself, Terry's dick started knocking the Sonic rings out of my pussy. He was definitely pissed. The only time Terry delivered dick like this was when he was angry. But this time, Daddy was angry!

“Ahh, fuck!” I said, falling forward.

Between Terry’s teasing and my previous self-pleasure, it took no time for him to bottom out. My pussy swallowed Terry’s dick whole, pulling him in like a vacuum. I was so gone that I hadn't forgotten we were in front of a window.

“Don’t let that towel fall. That’s all you focus on!” Terry groaned.

“Okay!” I screamed.

I was falling under the weight of pleasure. My legs were already turning into jello.

“Baby girl, focus. You ain't gone fall. You gone stay right here with Daddy,” Terry said, using his grip on my hair to pull me back up.

My eyes were closing, and my toes were curling into the carpet. I could feel every inch of Terry’s dick inside of me— every push and every pull. The level of pleasure I was feeling had me floating. My pussy clearly had a mind of its own because the grip it had on Terry’s dick was not intentional.

“Come on, mama. I feel you, baby. I feel you. Let’em see you, baby. Show’em why Daddy ain't never leavin’. Come on,” Terry groaned as his fingertips dug into my hip.

“Please, don’t stop!” I screamed. My voice carried through the apartment. I knew the neighbors heard me, but I didn’t care. Poor, Mrs. Geraldine.

I arched my back as much as this position would allow. I started to catch Terry’s rhythm, throwing my ass back on him with fervor.

“There you go. That’s what the fuck I'm talkin’ bout. Show out for Daddy, baby. You got this!” Terry said, smacking me on my ass.

I opened my eyes to see the window fogging up, causing me to smile. Realization set in that I was letting this man fuck me in front of a window. At this point, oh fucking well. I didn't care who saw me, and I for damn sure didn't care who heard.

His strokes were knocking me down something serious right now. How was I going to tell this man I wanted to be fucked like this all the time? Just walk in, get naked, and get to fucking work.

“Fuck, baby. Daddy’s close, but I need you to finish first. Come here,” Terry said, removing his hand from my hair.

He placed his hand down the top of my towel and began twirling my left nipple.

“Ahh, fuck!” I hissed.

His other hand fell from my hip, slipping around and under the bottom of my towel. Using the pads of his fingers, he began rubbing my clit. Already sensitive, I shuddered as I felt the first wave of my orgasm approaching.

“Daddy!” I yelled, throwing my head back.

“That’s right! Let it go, baby. Cum on your dick. Wet me up, ‘Vana!” Terry yelled. I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me.

Like a tsunami, I squirted all over Terry’s dick. My cum dripped down my thighs and legs, leaving a wet spot on the carpet below us.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl! You ready for Daddy, baby?” Terry grunted.

I could feel his hips stuttering as his strokes faltered as he was still in search of his own release. His strokes became shallow but held the same power and intensity. The smacking of our bodies echoed through the room like our own version of Morse code.

“’Vana, knees. I need you… ahhh… I need you on your knees, baby. Now!” Terry barked, pulling out of me.

I turned around at the speed of light, dropping to my knees in front of Terry. I knew the routine— mouth open, tongue out, hands on my lap, eyes on Daddy.

“Good girl,” Terry said, stroking himself while slapping his dick on my tongue.

Terry’s sat his dick on my tongue and threw his head back. “Give it to me, mama,” he groaned.

I wrapped my lips around Terry’s dick and began sucking him with a hunger only he could cure. His hands went to the back of my head, not to guide me but to stabilize himself. I looked up, searching for his eyes. Seeing Terry come undone under my doing, knowing he had full intentions of probably destroying me, made me smile.

I pushed further and swallowed the rest of him until my lips reached his base. I relaxed my throat and bobbed my head back and forth.

“Fuck, mama!” Terry yelled as his head dropped to look at me.

Terry's dick stiffened in my mouth. As soon as I felt the first drop of cum, I sucked him up again and rested at the base. Ropes of cum spilled to the back of my throat as I swallowed what would have been mouthfuls. This load was different— heavy, dense, and full of emotion. Breathing through my nose and relaxing underneath him, I let Terry empty himself and ride out his high in its entirety. I had no intentions of disturbing him.

Once he was finished, Terry released himself from my mouth. Looking down at me, he cupped my face in his hands. He pulled me up from the floor and pulled me into a heated kiss. It was clear that his anger had subsided, but the passion was still there. His tongue danced around mine, dominating the kiss. He drew in a breath and sucked in my bottom lip. I moaned out, feeling myself get worked up again. Terry pulled back slowly, leaving me craving more.

“Oh, don’t worry, mama. We got all day,” he said, picking me up and carrying me to the bathroom.

Today was going to be a long day. Pray for me.

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