#and being so desperate to get out when they take over
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cameronsprincess · 3 days ago
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omg pls write about frat!rafe and reader and she wants to make a sex tape with rafe as revenge porn for her ex
PLEASE!!!!! i love this so much omfg!!!! i hope you love it baby!
CW: smut! 18+ only! frat!rafe, slight violence, drinking, multiple positions, fingering, male receiving oral, rafe ‘n reader make a sex tape and send it to her shit ass ex bf!
a/n: i’ve never been in college so bare with me, bc idk if i’m getting some terms or things correct, but i did some googling for this😂 also.. i lowkey gave this a lil more storyline.. oops.
masterlists.
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you had your sights set on the frat president for a couple of weeks now. ever since you and spencer broke up, you had wanted to figure out a way to get back at him for cheating on you… and what better way to do that than to hook up with his frat brother, the most sought after man on campus, rafe cameron.
it’d been two weeks of you subtly flirting with rafe, giving him fuck me eyes any time you saw him, running into him in the courtyard or dining hall, finding an excuse to talk with him after the fact. it didn’t take much, honestly, after day one rafe was already reeled in.
you’re currently sitting in the library, books open and scattered around the table, studying for a final exam when you hear a voice you’ve grown accustomed to hearing as of late.
“hey, pretty girl. whatcha studying for?”
you glance up from your textbook, setting your pen down on the tabletop and crossing one leg over the other before smiling brightly at rafe. “my final for forensic psychology. worth twenty percent of my grade,” you pause, biting at your bottom lip and batting your lashes at him. “what’re you doing in here?” you ask, a slight tease in your tone.
rafe chuckles, the sound deep and smooth. it sends a jolt of arousal straight between your legs.
“just came for some quiet between classes, didn’t expect to find you here though,” he shifts closer to you, his large, ringed hand falling on your thigh. “i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t happy i ran into you though.”
your eyes flit down to where his hand is resting on your bare thigh, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. you give him a small smile, “well i’m glad you ran into me too, it’s always nice being around you.”
rafe grins, his hand tightening on your thigh before he pulls back. you frown at the loss of his touch, but you quickly mask it, not wanting to seem desperate for his attention. this is all a plan, you and rafe will never be anything more than a one night stand.
rafe clears his throat after a beat of awkward silence, “so i’ve been meaning to text you, but i’ve just been busy… this is better though, asking you in person i mean.”
your brow furrows, tilting your head to the side. ask you what?
“okay..” you say hesitantly. “what’d you wanna ask me?”
rafe pulls his backpack off his shoulder, setting it on the floor in front of him before unzipping it and pulling out a wrinkled flyer, passing it to you. “we’re having an end-of-the semester party is this weekend, i was wondering if you’d come?”
you study the paper in your hand, trying your best to stifle the smile wanting to break free. this is perfect. you can attach yourself to rafe’s side all night long, spencer would definitely see the two of you together, and then you can make sure he sees when you disappear upstairs together, because let’s be real… you weren’t planning on ending the night not sleeping with rafe.
your eyes finally lift, finding rafe’s sparkling blue ones. you nod your head slowly, “yeah, absolutely i’ll be there. can i bring a friend?”
a big smile takes over rafe’s face. “yeah, ‘course. bring whoever,” he zips his bag back up, standing from the chair he’s in and slinging one of the straps back over his shoulder, gripping it with his right hand. “see you saturday night, pretty girl.”
he winks at you before turning and disappearing out the library doors. you wait until you’re sure he’s gone before letting out a quiet squeal, grabbing your phone and snapping a picture of the flyer, opening your messages with your best friend before sending her a text.
you: *attachment: 1 image* oh my god, lex! rafe fucking cameron just invited me to the end-of-the semester party at his frat this weekend.. he said i could bring whoever, you in?
her reply comes in almost instantly.
lex: *lex hearted an image* ummmm. of course i’m fucking in, holy shit, babe! see i told you that you could pull this off. hurry back home, we need to start planning what to wear now!
three days later, saturday night.
“y/n, c’mon babe, we’re gonna be late.” lex groans, her knuckles tapping against your bathroom door again.
you laugh silently, checking your hair and makeup one final time before opening the door. lex’s hand hangs mid-air, her probably ready to knock again. you roll your eyes at her, “i’m coming i’m coming. isn’t that the point of these parties though? no one’s ever early or on time..”
lexi laughs, letting out a slow whistle after. “you’re right, but damn girl. rafe is not going to be able to keep his hands off you, you look sexy!”
you give her a small twirl, running your hands down the front of your tight black dress. you make your way past her, grabbing your heels before plopping onto your mattress and slipping them on your feet. you stand, grabbing your purse before slipping your phone and wallet inside.
turning to face lexi, you smile. “ready?”
“ready.” she repeats with a smile.
the two of you make your way down the stairs of your two-bedroom townhome, walking out the front door and to the sidewalk, waiting on the uber lexi ordered to arrive.
“so what’s the plan, ma? just gonna show up and attach yourself to rafe?”
you shake away the nerves you’re suddenly feeling, trying to clear your mind. this was going to be fine. a little alcohol, some flirting and touching, rafe would be putty in your hands.
“yeah.. i guess? i mean, what else can i do? if i’m just upfront about what i want he’d respect it more, right?”
lexi smiles. “right,” she pauses, looking down at her phone to check where the uber is. “almost here. but, back on the rafe subject, you’re hot, and you’re single, and from word around campus, rafe isn’t one to deny a pretty girl on his arm for the night. it’ll be fine! and bonus points, that jackass spencer will be there and he’ll be furious seeing you two together. plan ‘get back at spencer for being a cheating prick’ is going to be a success!”
you smile, opening your mouth to respond when a black nissan altima pulls up to the curb. the window rolls down. “for lexi adams?”
lexi smiles, grabbing your hand and opening the back door, pulling you inside the car. the driver pulls away from the curb, asking for the address.
the drive is only about fifteen minutes, the uber pulling up to the front of the frat house and letting the two of you out. you grip lexi’s hand in yours, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly before the two of you begin walking toward the front door.
two brothers stand outside the door, “names?” one of them asks.
you look over at lexi, your eyes slightly narrowed in a ‘is he serious’ type of way. you shake your head, looking back at the man who’d asked your names before responding, “y/n y/l/n… and this is my best friend, lexi adams…”
the two look at each other, almost like they’re contemplating letting you in. this is fucking ridiculous, it’s a frat party for christs sake, not a fucking vip section at a high dollar club.
you open your mouth to say that rafe cameron had invited you, but before you can even speak, rafe’s voice fills yours ears.
“you made it!” he says excitedly, squeezing between the two men outside the door, his hand gripping your free one. he turns to walk through the doors, but before he does he stops and whispers something to both of the men standing there. they both look up at you and lexi before putting their focus back on rafe, nodding their heads at whatever he said.
rafe drags you inside, lexi following closely behind as her hand is still holding one of yours. the music inside beats loudly throughout the house, vibrating off the walls and floors and rafe pulls you into the open living space.
he pulls you toward a table lined with various liquor bottles and beer, stopping and releasing your hand. you and lexi stand side by side, staring at rafe as he smiles. “whatcha drinkin’ tonight?” he shouts over the music.
you eye the various bottles of liquor, mixers and beers. you finally settle on a malibu and coke, lexi settling for a vodka cran. rafe quickly makes both drinks, passing them to you and lexi before slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side with a smile.
the three of you walk around the house, squeezing through crowds of people and watching as partygoers dance or partake in intense games of beer pong and flip cup at the various tables spread throughout the house. rafe finally reaches a small group sitting on a few couches, his hand gripping yours as he plops onto the couch, pulling you with him and into his lap. butterflies erupt in your stomach when his free hand snakes its way around your waist, resting flat on your lower stomach.
you rest your back against his chest, leisurely sipping on your mixed drink. rafe leans in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you look fucking sexy tonight.”
your cheeks heat up, biting softly at the rim of your cup before bringing it down. you lean forward to set it on the table in front of you, leaning back and turning your neck toward him to thank him. you barely finish your sentence before a familiar and unwelcome voice fills your ears.
“well isn’t this fucking cozy,” spencer says, anger and jealousy lacing his tone. “y/n… what the fuck are you doing?” he scoffs, letting out a dark laugh before he speaks again. “better yet, what the fuck are you doing, cameron? that’s my ex girlfriend. why the fuck is she here and in your lap no less?”
rafe breathes out an annoyed sigh. his thumb rubs gently at your stomach through your dress, his large hands gripping your hips and lifting you off his lap, setting you on the couch and standing. he steps into spencer’s chest, his voice low and demanding as he speaks. “last i checked, i’m the fucking president of this frat house, and i can have whoever the fuck i want here…” he gives spencer a one up, laughing before tapping his cheek and stepping back. “also… didn’t you cheat on her? with vanessa walsh? a shame, really, spence. vanessa is a major downgrade compared to y/n here.” he says, his right hand gesturing back at you.
spencer’s lips part, an annoyed and irritated expression on his face. he rolls his eyes, letting a slow smile take over his lips. “okay. have fun, she’s a fucking prude bitch anyways.”
you gasp and lexi moves to stand but you grip her wrist, pulling her back down. your eyes flit around, taking in the expressions of everyone sitting around you. there’s a lot of shock, a lot of excitement, and some people just blankly watch the interaction. lexi scoots closer to you, gluing herself to your side, resting her head on your shoulder. “fuck him, babe. you’re not a prude, he’s just a prick.”
rafe presses his tongue into his cheek, nodding his head slowly. he turns to face you, his eyes softening when they meet yours. “i’m sorry.” he says softly.
but before you can even respond, he’s turning back to face spencer, his hand clenched in a fist by his side rising and connecting with spencer’s jaw. the party grows silent, people gasping, some shouting praises at rafe, and others concerned for spencer.
“what the fuck, man?” spencer shouts, his jaw moving side to side as he moves to cup it in his hand.
rafe steps into him again, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into him, “don’t you ever. fucking talk about her that way again. understand?”
spencer tries to speak but rafe shoves him back, the force knocking spencer onto his ass. rafe turns to face you, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, placing your hand in his and letting him lift you up from the couch. his eyes go to lexi, “i’m gonna just borrow her for a moment, yeah? i’ll have my best friend topper come sit with you, keep you company. i promise he’s a good guy.”
lexi smiles, waving her hand through the air. “don’t worry about me, cameron. you take all the time you need with my girl,” she pauses, her smile dropping off her face. “but if you hurt her, i’ll be forced to hunt you down…”
rafe smiles, letting his head fall as he laughs. “got it, boss. she’ll be taken care of.”
lexi gives him a nod, and rafe drags you away. spencer’s eyes are burning into the two of you, but you couldn’t care less. you know what your next move is now, that is, if rafe’s okay with it. rafe stops near a staircase, talking to a blonde boy who you’re assuming is topper. topper glances at you, then over to the area you just were before nodding and pushing his body off the stairs, he stops to give you a gentle smile, “don’t worry, i’ll make sure your friend is good.” you thank him, and then rafe continues to pull you up the stairs once topper disappears into the crowd of bodies.
he pulls you down a long hallway, making it to a door at the very end of the hall. he digs into his back pocket, pulling out a set of keys and sifting through them before landing on the one he needs. he quickly unlocks the door, pushing it open and pulling you inside before he’s shutting it and locking it back. you take in the room you’re in, a queen sized mattress on a metal frame sits against one wall, a long dresser against the other. he has a desk pushed against one wall, his laptop, business textbooks, and a small lamp sat on top of it. he has a small closet in the room, the doors slightly open and revealing the rack that’s stuffed full with clothes. you grin, taking in the rather bare walls, give for a few pictures of him and friends and some sports posters.
“cute.” you say softly, running your fingers along the length of his dresser. you gasp when rafe’s hands snake around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, the feel of his breath on your skin sending goosebumps up your arms. you turn to face him, your ass pressed into the dresser as rafe steps further into you.
your eyes find his, dropping down to his lips and back up again. “yeah.. i’m perfectly fine.”
the tension in the room thickens, buzzing through your body like electricity. rafe’s eyes drop to your lips and continue their descent down your body before slowly dragging back up and stopping on your lips again.
“rafe i-” you begin, but his lips crashing against yours has the words dying on your tongue, a moan escaping you instead.
rafe slips his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours as his hands run up and down the sides of your body. he drags his hands up your sides, all the way up to your face. he firmly cups your cheeks, kissing you like he’s trying to steal your air for himself.
he backs the two of you toward the desk that sits against a far wall in his room, his lips never leaving yours, hands gliding down your sides. he reaches your thighs, gripping at them tightly and lifting you up onto the desk. your hands find his face, pulling him further into you, tongues tangling and teeth clashing before he pulls away breathless. his blue eyes search yours, your heart tugging in your chest at the deep pools of blue burning into your face.
rafe’s lips tilt up in a slight smile, his fingers lazily running along your thigh. “tell me what you want.” he rasped, his eyes never leaving yours.
your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, and your voice comes out slightly shaky as you say, “you.”
the one word was all rafe needed to hear, his fingers gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head. he tosses it to the floor before he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming every inch of your body through your dress. his hands run up your thighs, disappearing under your dress. he runs his fingers along the crease of your thigh, toying with your thong, a small groan escaping him.
you push him off you, his lips detaching from yours, strings of spit pulling and attached to both of your lips. he eyes you curiously. “you okay?” he says slowly.
you smile. “yeah. perfect. i just.. i have one request.”
the corner of his lips tip slightly, head cocked to the side. “yeah, yeah what’s up?”
“can we,” you pause, laughing and shaking your head because you’re afraid he might find you ridiculous for even asking. he barely knows you. you shake away the nerves, continuing with your thoughts anyways. “can we record us? i just.. i want to get back at spencer… i know it’s stupid and i have nothing to prove but-”
rafe cuts you off with his lips on yours, kissing you softly and slowly. he finally breaks away, gripping your face in his hands. “shut up. it’s not stupid, i get it and i’m down. i’ve grown sick of spencer’s shit, so this’ll be fun.”
you smile, a wide genuine smile as you softly push him back. hopping off his desk, you kick your heels off your feet before gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head. you stand in front of rafe, in nothing but a black lace thong and bra. his eyes widen as he takes in your body, his bottom lip brought between his teeth. “goddamn… he cheated on you? fucking idiot…”
you laugh, looking for your phone and frowning when you realize you’d left it downstairs with lexi. “shit.. i left my phone downstairs with lex.”
rafe chuckles, moving past you and toward his nightstand. he grabs his phone off the top, opening his camera app and switching it to video mode. he starts the video, setting the phone up on his desk, a perfect view of his bed on the screen. “done.” rafe breathes, stepping back, turning and gripping your hips again.
he lifts you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you harshly again. you moan against his lips, grinding yourself against him. rafe groans, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before he releases it with a messy pop. he drops you onto his mattress, watching as your hair fans out around you. “you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”
a blush heats your cheeks and you eyes watch him intently as he begins stripping himself of his khakis and boxers. he stands before you, completely naked, his long and thick cock bobbing in the air. you begin salivating at the sight of him. your hand reaches out, hesitantly wrapping it around his thick length. rafe groans, his head thrown back as your name leaves his lips on a breathless whisper.
you begin stroking him slowly, running your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing at his smooth, pink head. precum drips from the slit of his dick, and you quickly dart your tongue out, running it along the slit to catch it, the taste of him exploding on your tastebuds has you moaning. you drop him from your hand and rafe steps back, grabbing his phone and switching it to the back camera. he fists your hair tightly, wrapping your loose strands around his hand once, twice before tugging your head up. your eyes stare into the camera lense, his next words coming out harsh and breathless.
“suck my cock, pretty girl. go on, show me how good you are at swallowing dick.”
you bite your bottom lip, smiling up at him. your eyes never leave the camera lense as your tongue darts out, licking up the bottom of his shaft. your tongue continues its teasing motions, tracing the vein that runs up the bottom of his thick cock, all the way up to his swollen and leaking tip. you wrap your lips around him, sucking at him softly before pushing him completely down your throat.
“oh shit… that’s it pretty girl… just like that.” rafe groans, his hand holding the camera lowering, capturing every second of your mouth working at his dick. the hand that fists your hair tightens, holding you in place as he begins thrusting his hips, brutally fucking himself down your throat. the room is filled with your slurps and gags, rafe’s groans also bouncing off the walls. your clit pulses in sync with his dick, throbbing and twitching inside your mouth before he’s roughly pulling himself back.
he breathes heavily, letting out a breathless laugh. “jesus, i almost came too soon.”
rafe moves and sets his phone back up on the desk, making sure it’s perfectly positioned on his bed before he’s walking toward you. he flips you onto your back again, crawling on top of you and kissing your lips hard. he pulls his lips from yours, pushing up with his hands and pulling at the cups of your bra, letting your tits spill out. he groans at the sight of them. his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking and biting at it before he switches to the other, giving it the same attention. he finally pulls back, blowing on your nipples, the cool air making them tighten more.
his fingers run down the length of your stomach, stopping once he reaches the waistband of your panties. he slowly pushes them down, your ass lifting to help him get them off. his eyes find your glistening pussy, a slow exhale escaping his lips. “fuck… you’re so wet…”
he leans over, opening the top drawer of his nightstand and pulling out a condom. he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling out the lubricated condom before he’s slowly dragging it down his length. your chest heaves, eyes watching him as he grips himself in his hand, slowly lining himself up with your soaked entrance. “gonna feel so fuckin’ good… you ready?”
you give him a small nod, breathing out an “mhmm” before rafe slowly pushes his tip inside you. your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into the skin of his back and dragging down as he slowly pushes more of himself inside you.
the two of you moan in unison when he bottoms out inside you, “fuck you feel so good..” rafe groans, his body unmoving as he lets you adjust to his size. you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head down and kissing him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip.
“rafe… please? please fuck me.” you beg him, and he groans.
“yes ma’am.” is all he says before he’s slowly dragging out and slamming back inside. his hips start a quick pace, moving in and out of you harshly, his tip hitting a spot inside you that had your toes curling and bright white light blinding your vision.
you moan his name, loudly crying out and your fingers tug at his hair, scratch at his back, gripping onto any part of him you can as he brutally fucks himself inside you.
“mmmm you’re so fuckin’ wet and tight, i feel that sweet pussy gripping ‘round me, pretty girl… you gonna cum f’me? want you to make a fuckin’ mess on my cock.”
your pussy flutters around him, a moan of his name spilling past your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. the first orgasm hits you hard, your body tensing, legs shaking as you come undone around him. rafe smiles, quickly pulling himself out of you and flipping you onto your stomach. he lifts your ass into the air, giving it a harsh smack before he’s climbing off the bed, grabbing his phone and making his way back to you.
he points the camera in your face, groaning as he says “look at that pretty face… look so damn beautiful after you’ve cum around my cock baby.”
you give the camera a lazy smile, your eyes fluttering shut when he pushes himself back inside you from behind this time. he pulls the camera away from your face, focusing it on where his dick disappears inside your soaked cunt. he lowers the camera, capturing every detail of your pussy gripping his cock. “goddamn.. look how good she squeezes my dick. never seen anything more fuckin’ sexy.”
he pulls the camera back up, holding it up with one hand as his free hand grabs onto your hip. he begins pounding inside you again, reveling in the sweet noises he pulled from you with each thrust of his hips. your pussy clenches down around him again, squeezing him tightly and he lets out a strangled moan. “fuck baby, you gonna cum again?” he teases, his hand that’s holding your hip releasing it, landing a harsh smack to your ass again.
a loud cry is pulled from you as your second orgasm washes over you, this one dragging out and lasting longer than the first. rafe never lets up, his pace never faltering. he fucks himself into you, helping you ride out your high. once you come down, he’s pulling out again, setting the phone back up and lifting you into his arms. his hands hold the underside of your ass and he backs you into a wall, kissing you hard, his tongue tangling with yours as he grips his dick again, shoving himself inside you again. the new position coupled with the ways he’s holding you, his hands moving your hips up and down his length and the sensitivity from your previous two orgasms already has you seeing stars.
“that’s it baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”
your vision blurs, nothing but white light blinding you as your pussy clenches around him again. rafe’s dick twitches inside you, a strangled “fuck” and call of your name falling from him as he slams you down one final time. he holds you in place, your body shaking in his hold as you cum around him and he empties himself inside the condom.
once the two of you come down from your highs, rafe kisses your lips softly, “did so fucking good, so good baby. you’re such a good girl.”
you smile at him softly, your body fucked out and exhausted but your mind still floating on cloud nine from the three orgasms he’s drawn out of you. rafe slips himself from inside you, laying you in his bed and covering you up before grabbing his phone and stopping the video. he discards the condom in the trash, climbing into his bed with you and wrapping his arms around your body, pulling your sleeping figure into him and kissing the top of your head.
quickly opening his texts, he finds spencer’s contact and sends a quick text.
rafe: *attachment 1 video* don’t worry bro, she’s taken care of now. you’re stupid as fuck for letting this one go.
once he sends the video he smiles to himself, moving the video to a private folder for himself before locking his phone and laying down with you. he nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses as he whispers, “don’t worry pretty girl. you’re mine now, and i’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
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tagging some moots: @quinnsbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @nemesyaaa @maybejj @sarahsangelicdoll @rafesheaven @rafescvntyclubgf @dementedkittenribbon @hauntedfawnn @memoirofasparklemuff1n @rafesbabygirlx @cherrygirlfriend @maybanksangel @jjsbaby @jjslaybank @littlelamy
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daycourtofficial · 2 days ago
Text
You two are dancing in a snow globe round and round
Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 8.2k | warnings: needles/requiring stitches
Summary: four times a trope fails to bring you and Azriel together, one time it prevails. This is my submission for @sjmromanceweek day 5: favorite tropes (and yes these are all elite tropes, argue with the wall 😤)
Author’s note: this is for my You Are in Love by Taylor Swift girlies. Also on the fence about the ending but ya know it felt right and @ninthcircleofprythian loved it so her opinion is the correct one
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Fake dating
The streets of Velaris are quiet. A sleepy morning after the holiday excitement of Starfall has died down. A week past it and the fae are still holed up in their homes, only going out when necessary. The cobblestone streets are mostly empty, you, Nyx, and Azriel passing the occasional fae as they move in the opposite direction. They would nod or wave at the three of you, but never linger to talk, eager to get on their way. 
A light tugging on your scarf brings you out of your daze. Looking down to find Nyx’s blue eyes looking up at you, his tiny hands pulling on your scarf. “Az, can you help undo my scarf?”
The two of you stop, moving over to the side of the street to avoid being in anyone’s way. Azriel’s scarred fingers reach out, unwrapping the scarf from your neck, and rewrapping it to include Nyx. The babe has been doing this all week to anyone wearing a scarf - tugging incessantly until he was also tucked into the scarf. If he was after the scent or the warmth, nobody knew. Cassian had even bought him a scarf, a little thin knitted piece of black wool, thinking the boy would be delighted. Nyx cried and pulled on the scarf when Cassian wrapped it around his neck before spitting up on it. 
The princeling is still holding a slight grudge against Cassian, in turn causing the general to try desperately to get Nyx’s affections back - holding him constantly, playing with him, trying to slip him some sweet treats. Cassian’s antics have led the three of you here, walking the streets of town instead of being in the River House. 
You usually watched Nyx in the afternoons and after a week of Cassian’s antics you had quickly grown tired of his need to get back in the heir’s good graces. As soon as Azriel returned from training and bathed, you had rushed the two of them out of the house with you before Cassian could come looking for Nyx.
Nyx settles in your arms, enjoying the comfort the scarf brings him. His head rests against your shoulder, the slightest bit of drool permeating your jacket. You sigh, cursing yourself for wearing your favorite coat when you know just how messy Nyx is.
“He’s quite fond of you,” Azriel’s deep voice is laced with affection. You look down at Nyx, finding it difficult not to coo over how cute he looks snuggled up to you.
“He better be - I spend more time with him than anyone save for Rhys and Feyre. Hopefully he remembers that when I begin my plans to take over the world.”
Nyx’s little giggle comes from underneath the scarf, immediately bringing a smile to your face. One of Azriel’s hands lingers around the small of your back, gently helping guide you down the near empty street. 
“When you take over, will you spare me? I hear a shadowsinger could be very useful in world domination.” He leans into your ear, his voice soft as to not disturb the silence of the road.
You start moving down the street again, Azriel just a half step behind you. His left wing was open around your back, offering protection to you and the princeling. You wanted to sink into it, let his wing envelop you fully.
“You'll have to submit an application, I already have quite a few offers.”
“I’d expect nothing less, but I am hoping some favoritism can move my application forward.”
“Mm, does favoritism come with perks?”
“I’ll buy your lunch and any pretty things you find on the way back to the house.”
“Oh, I like your methods of persuasion, shadowsinger.”
The two of you walk into the bakery, Azriel holding the door open for you and Nyx to walk through first.
“I’m just saying, but if Cassian really expects to keep disrupting my plans with Nyx, the least he could do is make me a smoothie.”
Nyx babbles in your arms, and you look into his violet eyes, the same color as Rhys’s, but they held the same twinkle to them as Feyre’s eyes, “yes, that’s right. I’m right.”
You all get in line, five fae in line ahead of you. Azriel unwraps the scarf from around Nyx, the warmth of the bakery causing him to want to be out of the confines of the fabric.
“But if you woke up a little earlier, you could make one yourself without Nyx there to watch over.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” You ask, your finger tickling Nyx’s side to get him to giggle with you.
Azriel rolls his eyes at your obvious tactics to get the toddler to agree with you, but he can’t help the soft smile he has as Nyx giggles at your poking and flaps his tiny wings.
The older female in front of the two of you turns and gasps at Nyx, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.
“Well, if this isn’t the cutest babe in all of Prythian.” Her face lights up as Nyx flaps his wings harder at the attention he’s getting, hiding his face in your shoulder, hiding his big grin.
“He’s just darling, you two must be thrilled to have such a sweet babe.”
“Oh we’re not-“ Before you can disagree with her, Nyx has made his own decision.
“Mama!” He calls to you, putting his chubby little hands on your face, squishing your cheeks together. You move one of your hands back towards Azriel’s stomach, stopping him from speaking further, deciding to just roll with it.
You crinkle your eyes, “He’s just darling, isn’t he?”
Nyx gives you a toothless grin, and you shoot him a look he mistakes for pure affection, preening under your withering gaze. It is nearly impossible to stay mad at him, his chubby cheeks the ultimate ‘I can do no wrong’.
“How old is he?” You pale, having a hard time keeping track of Nyx’s age. You dig through your mind, trying to remember when Nyx was born. Azriel answers much quicker than your brain could. “He’s fourteen months old.” The female squeals at Azriel’s words, the shadowsinger slightly wincing.
“Wow, what a great age! My boys were little monsters by then, each of them would love walking around at night, they’d always manage to escape their cribs somehow. I can’t imagine how I’d deal with one of them with wings!” She continues, her eyes lit up talking about her kids when they were young. You find it incredibly sweet, until she continues on and on until it’s her turn to order.
Her back to you both, you turn toward Azriel, widening your eyes slightly and looking at her. He shrugs, a soft “what can you do” coming from him. After she orders, the two of you step up, ordering your sandwiches and something sweet for Nyx. The woman gets her sandwich right after you pay, telling you, “it was nice to speak to you - you and your family are beautiful.”
Nodding and smiling, the two of you find a table and sit, Nyx still in your arms. You lightly kick Azriel’s foot underneath the table. “Thanks for paying.”
He sips his coffee, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t want her to think I was a poor father.”
You laugh, the sound causing Nyx to laugh too. The light hit the pair of you, giving the two of you a sort of glow. If Azriel squinted, he could feel the edges of fantasy grasp hold of the image - you holding a winged babe, laughing at something he had said. He wished he had some way to capture this moment, knowing he would return to it over and over in his mind when he couldn’t sleep. He smiled, unable to keep your joy from infecting him. 
One bed
“That’s not funny,” Cassian pouts, looking to you for support. You shrug, taking a sip of your wine to avoid speaking, opting to look towards the portraits on the wall rather than meet his gaze.
“You’re right - it’s hilarious,” Feyre responds, looking at her mate, seeing the comparison. “The last female you hooked up with looked just like Rhys.”
“She did not!” Cassian bellows, slamming his hand on the table. All of you howl in laughter, the revelation of Cassian’s recent hook up bearing quite the resemblance to his brother an endless source of amusement.
Cassian, Mor, Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and yourself were all nestled into the dining room of the townhouse. The fae light in the room produces an incandescence that provides a stark contrast to the brutal snow storm outside.
You’re all trapped here, none of you brave enough to step far enough outside of the wards to winnow away. The six of you piled into the townhouse earlier in the evening, where you lovingly made a three course meal. It was a monthly tradition - you liked getting everyone together, you loved cooking for your friends, and they loved eating your food. It was a win all around. 
Dinner was just starting to be served when the snowfall took a turn for the worst, coming down in massive heaps of white. 
“Good thing we have a feast right here - I was starting to eye Azriel’s legs.”
Mor rolls her eyes at Cassian, “you were eyeing his legs because you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.”
Cassian smirks at her, a charming grin many females have fallen victim to. “You’re just upset it wasn’t your legs I was looking at.”
“Can we stop discussing my legs?” Azriel grumbles, passing the bowl of mixed vegetables to you. You nod in thanks, scooping a serving for yourself. “At least they’re being kind to you - last week Cassian was making fun of my arms.”
You pout your lip dramatically, but Azriel ignores it, his scowl still on his brother. “I wouldn’t call being the first to be eaten a kindness.”
“It’s not my fault you have short arms. How do you reach anything?” Cassian’s mouth was somehow already full of food, despite one of the platters just making its way to him.
“I believe she reaches things by scaling countertops and climbing shelves,” Rhys adds, plating himself some dumplings before serving some to Feyre’s plate.
“Hey! We were not talking about me, we were discussing Azriel’s delicious thighs!”
“He didn’t specify thigh.” Rhys points out, his fork pointing toward you.
“Oh, but I meant his thighs.” Cassian chimes in, his arm outstretched for another serving of potatoes.
“I’d start with his arms - he has a lot of meat on his bicep.” Mor doesn’t look up from her plate as she states it so casually.
“This conversation has taken a turn for the worse,” Azriel mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. You rub his arm soothingly, and he softens a bit at the feel of your touch.
Until you start squeezing the muscle beneath your hand. He immediately glances at you from the side of his eye, a stony and cold look.
“Flex for me, please.”
“I will not indulge this!” He starts trying to pull his arm away, but your fingers are surprisingly strong.
“Hmmm,” you hum, your hands still wrapped around his bicep, squeezing as you contemplate. “They’re a decent contender, but my vote is the thigh.”
“Not you too!”
You squeeze his arm lightly, “I’m sorry, this is a worst case scenario! I promise I’ll only eat you if you were already dead from like a freak accident.”
“What are our thoughts on someone being run through with my sword as a freak accident?” Cassian muses, licking his fingers dramatically. Azriel scowls at him as everyone around the table giggles.
Azriel turns back to you, “you only picked my legs because you wouldn’t be able to reach my arms.”
You drop your hands from his bicep, mock exasperation on your face. “How dare you! I was complimenting you. Being able to feed a family from your lifeless body is a compliment!”
“I can think of many families more deserving of my meat than you lot.”
He huffs, rotating his body to look at his brother before adding, “don’t you dare, Cassian.” 
Cassian scoffs at the finger pointed in his direction. “You’re the one who said you can feed a village with your cock.”
“That is not what I said! And it was a family, not a village.”
“Whatever.”
The two keep bickering until Cassian throws a green bean at Azriel, who quickly moves his head. A shadow comes and quickly pushes the leftover food on Cassian’s plate into his lap in retaliation.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
Rhys looks equal parts amused and equal parts annoyed, likely at the mess that was made of his chair lining. He looks towards the window, the snow coming down even heavier than before. He sighs.
“I’m assuming we’ll all be staying here tonight?”
Everyone nods, no one wanting to brave the cold, wet snow. Not even Cassian or Azriel volunteer to leave, their bodies tailor made for this kind of weather.
“Right,” he nods, looking at Feyre. “Feyre and I will stay in the big room. You two,” he points to you and Azriel, “can stay in the room with the mirrors. You two,” now pointing to Cassian and Mor, “can stay in the room with some of Feyre’s paintings.”
Your heart picks up, its beat erratic and echoing through your ears. This would hardly be the first time you and Azriel shared a bed, but each time turned you into a bundle of nerves. You spent the entire night doubting each movement you made, uncertain if you were making Azriel uncomfortable until your brain eventually shut down, allowing for sleep to overtake you. 
Every time your worry was for nothing - each night full of nerves brought forth a morning of tangled limbs and warm cuddling. Waking up in his arms did nothing but cause your feelings for Azriel to soar, spending several extra minutes in bed pretending to be asleep, trying to imprint the feel of his arm around your waist to memory.
“No,” Cassian bellows, “she has that painting of Bryaxis in there. Creeps me out. I won’t be able to sleep.”
Rhys breathes through his nose, uncertain when becoming High Lord meant delegating his friend’s fears. “Put it in the closet.”
“I’ll know it’s there.”
“Fine, we’ll take the painting out of there.”
“Maybe Cassian will be who we eat if a simple painting puts him on edge this much.” You whisper conspiratorially, Azriel making a soft hum in acknowledgment. If he can hear the loud beating of your heart, he doesn’t let on. 
You look at him, his face not giving any apprehension away. It was hard not to fall further for Azriel with each look he gave you, each night you two shared a bed just sinking you deeper and deeper into your feelings.
He is beautiful, a detail impossible for anyone to ignore. You have heard countless fae mention it over the years. Most of them only see him from a distance - the cold, mysterious front Azriel wanted the world to see him as. But you have the privilege of seeing him up close, getting to take in every small detail about him.
The exact angle of his nose, how his jawline curves. How his shadows move languidly around his face, almost wanting you to pay attention to his eyes. You’re certain you could draw an exact replica of how his tattoos litter his chest, the design close to Cassian’s, but not quite the same. Azriel’s tattoos were looser, as if his shadows acted as stencils when the tattoos were made. 
You can even tell when his hair gets to the length he finds too long, the black curls getting into his face, his shadows sweeping the hair off his forehead when he trains.
You treat knowing him as if you’re a scholar writing an encyclopedia of Azriel, needing to know every little thing about him.
The weather doesn’t leave much lingering, everyone turning in quickly, seeking solace under a warm comforter. You follow behind Azriel, making your way to the room allocated to the two of you.
‘Room with the mirrors’ was an understatement. Mirrors of all sizes surround the both of you - more with ornate frames, intricately carved figures and plants decorating each one. One mirror even had detailed Illyrian wings on the bottom. You could see yourself and Azriel from every angle, every movement meant for observation.
“Why do they have so many mirrors in here?” 
Azriel’s eyes sweep across the room, counting at least two dozen mirrors. He knew exactly what Rhys used them for. It was impossible to know the High Lord for centuries and not know his bedroom preferences. “Do you really wish to know?”
Shivers go down your spine at his whispering voice. You have the whole room to yourselves, but his proximity is difficult to handle knowing exactly how Rhys and Feyre use this room. 
“It’s obviously because Rhys tries out mirrors until one shows him a flaw.” You watch Azriel grimace through a reflection.
“They’re a bit unnerving.” Several of his shadows dance around the mirrors, almost watching themselves as they slither and writhe. They are putting on quite the show, causing you to nearly miss Azriel’s statement.
“I guess.” You shrug, not really caring too much. In truth, you like the mirrors. It meant there was nowhere for Azriel to hide from you in here. 
A shiver ran up at the thought that you couldn’t hide either. 
A room of truths and being seen.
“I could just winnow back home.” You startle from your thoughts, Azriel’s tight lips and tense shoulders giving away just how uncomfortable he is. Is it your shared company? Or is it the thought of staying in his brother’s spare sex room that’s putting him on such edge?
“But that’s not fun. Besides, you can’t leave me here with Cassian. He’s already disaster planning. I need someone to protect me.” You sit down on a settee, unlacing your shoes. A small part of you doesn’t want Azriel to leave, hoping if you get comfortable, it’ll help him relax. 
An even smaller part doesn’t want to recognize how large that part actually is. You don’t want to be left alone tonight, and you certainly don’t want to have to explore exactly why his absence has such an effect on you.
“You were saying I’m dinner earlier and now I’m your protector. Which is it?” His wings are loosening their stiff hold and from the corner of your eye you see a few shadows nestle beneath the duvet.
“Whichever suits my needs. And tonight I need you to protect me from Cassian.”
Azriel shakes his head, unable to keep the smile off his face as he sits next to you, unlacing his own boots. He nearly takes up half the settee, but you don’t mind as his wing gently drapes around you. He places them neatly next to yours, the domesticity of it lingering in your mind. 
Shoes at the end of the bed, getting ready for bed.
Romance in its simplest form: routine.
He’s gone much too quickly for your liking, his hands quick as he searches drawers for some kind of nightwear. A few shadows help him in his search, pulling out various folds of silk and lace.
“Would you prefer a shirt or one of Feyre’s nightgowns?”
You’d prefer a nightgown, but knowing Feyre’s taste in clothes you know it’d likely leave little to the imagination. Azriel’s already a bit hesitant to stay, and you don’t want to push him further away. 
“Shirt, please.”
You thought he was offering you one of Rhys’s shirts from the drawers, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he unbuttons the front of his shirt, his shadows undoing the ties at the back, before the dark wisps carry the shirt over to you. He’s half turned away from you as he digs through the drawers, but you can still make out the contours of his body, the muscles in his arms moving with him.
You thank the shadows for their help, slipping away to the attached bathroom to change and get ready for bed. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed, but it feels different. More serious somehow. You slip into Azriel’s shirt, the fabric practically melting onto your skin. 
It smells divine. You want to just drown in the fabric here and now.
Instead you go back into the room, finding Azriel in comfortable sleep pants. 
He turns his back to you, doing a sweep of the room to ensure every crevice is shut and locked. When he turns, you can’t help the squeal that leaves your lips at the sight of the words printed on the rear of the pants. 
Azriel looks back around at you, only to find you pointing and giggling where his ass had been a few seconds before.
“Your pants say juicy!” Sure enough, the purple plush pants had the word ‘juicy’ in rhinestones and all capital letters. “No wonder Cassian wants to eat you, you’re practically advertising it!”
Your laughs are practically bouncing off the mirrors, Azriel’s body surrounded by your joy. He wants to be annoyed at these ridiculous pants Rhys clearly wears, but as your laughs continue, his annoyance is all an act. He tries his best to keep a neutral expression, but he’s certain some forlorn look of longing is in its place.
“Ha ha, very funny. Can we go to bed?” You’re still a ball of giggles as you make your way to the bed, awkwardly shuffling, a bit unsure. This part is always confusing and awkward - the two of you shuffling, waiting to see what the other would do. 
Azriel is well-versed in loving from a distance. He was convinced for so long that if Mor only saw him, acknowledged him, it’d be enough. And then he met you. And Mor became nothing more than she had always been - his friend. 
Tonight. Tonight he would not love you from a distance. His legs carried him to the bed, taking the initiative as his wings spread out against the mattress. He pulls back your side of the duvet, his hand patting the bed. An invitation.
Your cheeks turn a shade of red he wanted to paint the walls with. He could see himself in the mirror behind you, one of his wings twitching in delight that he found himself attractive.
Maybe just being in your gaze did that to him - opened him up to see who he could be. Maybe your gaze made him preen like a male bird, putting his best self on display. Or maybe it was the tattoos of his chest on full display, his sweatpants hidden beneath the duvet already.
“Are you going to hog the blankets?” Your words come out a bit shaky, trying to shift your focus from his warm body as you get in next to him. His wing curls back up, tucking in close to his body to make room for you. You shimmy into bed, pulling the duvet back over your body. For several minutes you lay there, practically stock still trying to avoid moving or disturbing Azriel, until he twitches lightly. You turn and notice his pinched brows, trying to hide the discomfort from his furled wings.
“I could- sleep on top of you? So you can spread out your wings? I just want you to be comfortable.” You add hastily, turning on your side to see him better. The bed was large enough for Illyrian wings, but you’re lying right in the middle of the bed, making it impossible for his wings to stretch out.
He’s silent, clearly thinking you’re question over. He’s taking longer than you expected, hesitance in your words as you speak again.
“Or I could sleep on the floor.” Your last word comes out as a gasp, his fingers quickly wrapping around your hips, pulling you on top of him. One of his hands moves around your head, tucking you into his chest. The other moves to your back, his fingers rubbing soothing strokes down your spine as he adjusts to be laying right in the middle of the bed. 
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” His fingers keep moving, not stopping their soothing patterns. His wings drop dramatically onto the bed, practically yelling at you to accept the space you gave away to them.
“Somehow, I think I’ll survive.” You let out a breath, finally letting yourself relax and breathe normally again. You burrow your face in his chest, the piney scent of him making your eyes droop. His fingers are soothing against your skin, each movement gently guiding you closer and closer to sleep. 
“Now if Cassian comes looking for a midnight snack he’ll have to get through you first.” You pinch his side, a squeak hitting your ear as a shadow pulls your hand away.
Blind dates and nosey friends
Your hands tear the bread in half once again as you see the waitress heading straight toward you. An awkward smile is on her face as she approaches your table. 
“Miss, are you ready to order?” You sigh through your nose, shredding the roll in your hands. She is just doing her job, you don’t have to take your frustrations on this male out on your server. You start to ask for a menu, when out of the corner of your eye you see large wings you would know anywhere. The shadow that branches off from him, heading in a direct path to you, is the confirmation it was him. 
“One moment, please.” You don’t wait for her response before practically sprinting over, grabbing the shadowsinger’s arm before even thinking about it. He jerks his arm back, a scowl on his face before he realizes who it is. 
Azriel’s defensive stance slackens as he takes you in, his eyes lingering long enough on your dress that heat creeps up your chest. A few shadows start curling around your bare legs.
“What are you doing here, Az?” His eyes finally look back up at your face, something hidden deep in his gaze.
“I was supposed to meet someone, but they never showed.” Your stomach falls at his words, the hypocrisy impossible to ignore. He was supposed to be on a date? But they didn’t show up? 
You take the chance to look at him, his usual leathers exchanged for more formal wear. An all black tunic that shows a glimpse of his chest. It is a gorgeous fabric - a deep black with dark blue embroidery along the edges. His clothes are looser than his leathers, but they still show off his chiseled body.
You were a fool to not take in the back of the outfit when you had the chance earlier, certain he fills out the seat of his pants quite nicely.
Whoever didn’t show up for Azriel was a fool. Your jealousy at that fact is undeterred by remembering you are also supposed to be on a date right now.
“Same here.” Your date not showing up didn’t bother you too much. You were disappointed by how highly Feyre spoke of him, but you hadn’t been too thrilled to be going out anyway. 
“Are you hungry?” Azriel gives you a bewildered look, and you cross your arms feeling so exposed before him. You gesture to the table behind you, hoping Azriel will pick up the hint.
He just continues looking at you blankly.
“Would you like to have dinner with me? I have a table, and the waitress certainly thinks I made up having a guest to eat with.”
He looks down at your outfit once again, goosebumps trailing where his eyes land. Just because you hadn’t been thrilled to come didn’t mean you took picking out your outfit lightly.
“It would be an honor.” He follows you to your table, long legs making it to your chair before you do. He pulls your chair out, helping you sit before he takes his own seat.
“Who were you meeting tonight?” His voice is low, nearly a growl as he asks the question. Before you can answer, your waitress comes back, two menus in her arms. You thank her as she hands them to you both.
“A nice merlot, please.” Az holds up two gloved fingers to her, wanting the same. 
“Feyre wanted to set me up with some male from the Rainbow. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” His eyebrows pinch together, a shadow curling his ear conspicuously before his face softens.
“And he didn’t show up?”
You shake your head, not wanting to voice the disappointment at being stood up. You weren’t giddy about the date, but it still stings of rejection.
“His loss.” Azriel is so sincere as he says it, his face opening in a way that only really happens when you’re alone with him. “Truly.”
You open your menu, unable to linger in his sincerity. “Maybe he was the great love of my life and now I’ll never have that.”
“I truly doubt that.”
The waitress comes back with two glasses of red wine and a fresh basket of breadsticks that she places between you two before heading off again.
“What are you doing here - who were you meeting?”
“Cassian’s been trying to get me to go out with him more. I got tired of waiting for him.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, he probably got caught up with Nesta and I’d rather not smell them in a public restaurant.” Azriel grimaces, and you remember him telling you last week about finding them on the training grounds and immediately turning around.
“So, did Feyre tell you anything about this guy?” You look up from your menu, a bit confused at him circling the conversation back to a male you’ve never met.
“Not really. Just said he’s good looking and a nice male.” You shrugged, reaching for a breadstick to tear apart, giving your hands something to do.
“She didn’t give you a name?”
You think for a moment, replaying the odd memory over again. How Feyre had come into the room, a crazed look about her as she asked if you had any plans this evening. Details of the restaurant reservation flying from her lips, getting a promise that you'd be there before she ran off again.
“No.” You pop some bread into your mouth, finally able to enjoy the softness of it now that you have Azriel looking at you instead of the waitress.
“Do you always go out with nameless males?”
You stop chewing and throw your balled up straw wrapper at him. A shadow catches it before it can hit his face, a smirk taking root, brightening his face. He looks so boyish, so smug. 
It was one of your favorite faces he wore.
The shadow throws the wad at Azriel’s face anyway, leaving him speechless at the defiance. You try to stifle your giggles, your hand hardly stopping the sound as you watch the shadows around him also appear to be laughing.
“It’s not funny.” Azriel tries to slip his face back into the cool neutrality he wears so well, but it’s nearly impossible as your giggles grow. You have to look away, the absurdity of the evening making you want to laugh harder.
A few fae turn their heads to look at the pair of you, quickly averting their gaze once they see who you were seated with. Your laughter dies down, and you know Azriel won’t let the topic die until you give him all the answers he desires.
“No. I hardly ever go out with males.” Azriel stops his teasing, his whole body going still as if movement could impair his hearing. Even his shadows stay still, watching and waiting over his shoulder. 
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve only been out a handful of times the past few years, none of them were right.” It’s the truth. Each date felt like a chore, ill-fitting shoes that never quite gave you what you needed. Mor had he annual attempt at setting you up, but you were quite happy to have a quiet love life for the time being. You’re much happier spending your free time with your friends, on your work, or with Nyx than with random males to learn their favorite colors and what they did for a living.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you been seeing anyone?”
“No.” His reply is curt, clearly not wanting to further the discussion. His eyes are cold, the gold not shining how they usually do when he speaks to you.
“Okay.” You’re at a bit of a loss for what to say. Conversation between the two of you is usually so easy.
But the two of you never discuss your love lives with each other. How could you talk about some male to Azriel without saying well he’s not as kind or as attentive as you?
“Come on, Az. Take a breadstick. It won’t kill you.”
You shake the basket at him, trying to get him to splurge a little. His rigorous diet is well known amongst your friends, teasing comments accompanied most meals about Azriel’s strict dietary choices.
That’s all it is when you say it - a deflection, a joke to ease the slight awkwardness that accompanies your question. To your utter delight, he picks one up, taking small bites, savoring each taste. 
It’s nearly sinful how he eats it.
Once it’s gone, he pats around his chest, looking around the room.
“Look at that.”
“What?”
“I am still alive.”
“Oh shut up.”
“All these years, I thought bread would kill me.”
You roll your eyes at him, picking the menu up to finally look over what you want for dinner.
Who did this to you?
It’s easy to forget Mor is first and foremost a warrior. Her chosen wardrobe is curated to draw attention to her other assets, but her muscles still shine.
“Ow.” Mor’s hand is quick as she jostles your face, clutching your jaw tight. Her grip gives away her true strength - focusing all of it on your face. 
You pity anyone who comes in her way on a battlefield.
“Hold still.”
“I’m trying, you’re hurting me.”
“Shush. You’re fine.” 
A lone shadow creeps through the crack beneath the door, making its way over to you. It slinks through the shadows of the room, slithering from the shadow of the bed to the shadows beneath the dresser. 
You notice it halfway through its journey, but Mor remains ignorant. It moves up your leg, gently swirling your hand in comfort. It works almost instantly, the cool touch of it enough to distract you from Mor’s ministrations.
For a moment you almost forgot where you were.
“Ow!” It comes out louder than you intend, scaring off the shadow. The disappointment of losing your shadow friend took your mind off the pain momentarily before scowling at your friend again.
“Are you sure you don’t want Madja?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop complaining.”
You groan, unable to stop yourself despite Mor’s withering look. You suck in a breath through your teeth, nearly biting your tongue as she continues stitching your face.
“What are you doing?” You didn’t hear Azriel come in, didn’t hear a sound from him. But now he’s impossible to ignore. His shadows swarm you, their soft caresses welcome and wanted. They brush against any open skin they can, a few tickling against the open wound on your face. A few find the bruises littering your legs and hips, their cool caress not stinging like pressure would.
Mor merely rolls her eyes at him, annoyance flickering in her brown eyes as she looks to him. “I’m playing healer because I thought it would be fun, what does it look like I’m doing?”
Several of the shadows leave you, circling around Azriel’s ears conspiratorially. His wings flare out, almost casting a wall between you and the rest of the world. One of the shadows tries to swat Mor away, a huff of annoyance leaving her.
Azriel has been different ever since your dinner together. The two of you are spending more time together than ever - now you see him at most meals, he gives you his weekly schedule and warns you whenever he’ll be gone, and the two of you always slink off and spend the evenings together.
It’s been strange lately.
Despite the shadows whispers, his scowl only deepens. His eyes assess your face, scanning for every injury. Hazel eyes go straight to the bruise covered by your shirt, as if he can see beneath the fabric to the purple skin beneath. Azriel’s face tightens, disapproval clearly evident.
“What happened? Who did this to you?” His voice is deeper, some deep anger taking over his face.
Mor is quick to step in, to calm the shadows that are swirling around you, making it difficult for her to continue her stitching.
“Calm down, she fell down the stairs.” 
His breathing starts slowing again. Catching Mor’s eye, she tries not to laugh at the intense display. She even mouths his words back to you, an impish look on her face before she focuses again on your cheek, purposefully ignoring the Illyrian practically breathing down her neck.
You try to laugh but wince as she brings up the needle to your cheek, threading it through skin, slowly closing the wound. An intake of air gives away your true discomfort, no matter how hard you try to hide it.
“You’re being too harsh.” Mor groans at Azriel’s admonishment before reaching for his hand, gently handing over the needle to him before standing. She dusts off her dress before getting to her full height. Azriel bends down, trying to keep the needle from pulling too far, allowing Mor to slightly tower over him.
“If my stitching isn’t up to your standard, you may finish it.” She huffs, waiting for his response. Hands meet her hips waiting until he concedes, nodding silently. She’s quick to turn on her heel, muttering about overprotective males before shutting the door behind her.
“She should have taken you to Madja.” Azriel clicks his tongue as if Mor could hear his complaints through the wall. His shadows seem to nod in agreement poking out over his shoulder before making their way back to you. 
“I didn’t want to go to Madja.”
“Why not?” 
It took a moment to find the words, to vocalize it out loud. It was silly - your arms were full, trying to carry too much at once. Foolishly you thought the stairs were a few feet away, missing the top step and falling face down the stairs. 
You had hit the walls with each tumble, causing a loud enough raucous to startle Mor, who immediately helped you up and fussed over you.
“I was embarrassed.” Your arms cross over your chest, trying to hide into yourself. Azriel gently cups your face in his hand, bringing the threaded needle back up. You wince, shutting your eyes tight to avoid seeing it. 
Azriel was right - Mor had been a bit rough in her stitching, but not enough for you to say anything. 
His thumb gently strokes your cheek, the delicacy enough to have you slowly crack open an eye only to find him looking right back at you.
“Why were you embarrassed?” His voice is softer now, less amusement as he holds your gaze. His gaze is strong, impossible to turn or hide away from. 
Maybe that’s why you open up completely, the cowardly parts of you on full display.
“I didn’t want to bother Madja with something I got because I tripped over my own feet.” You watch his face, waiting for him to understand how silly this situation is and to drop it completely. To continue his stitching and leave you with a bruised ego.
That understanding never comes, his face nearly shriveling in confusion.
“I’ve watched Cassian go to Madja for paper cuts.” 
“Yes, but-“
“Do you think Cassian’s pain is more deserving of healing?” Azriel is quick to cut you off, his words fast to stop the shame spiral you were gearing up to begin. His gaze is hard and unflinching, pinning you in place. 
Truth-Teller isn’t a weapon, it’s a title you feel he deserves. One look from him unspooling all of your secrets.
“It’s different.” Your shoulders slump a bit, finding it hard to find the right words for how you feel. Embarrassing is the best one, but it still feels light. 
“How?”
“I’m not… fighting the good fight. I’m not a warrior.” A few shadows wrap around your shoulders in a comforting embrace, almost as if they are holding you up. “Cassian deserves to be babied a bit when he’s constantly throwing himself into danger.”
A more cross look overcomes his features, a hint of agitation lingering.
“I didn’t realize civilians didn’t have healers.”
“That’s not what I meant.” 
“Then tell me what you mean.”
“Madja has more important things than tending to my falling down the stairs.” 
“I think you’re right. She does have better things to do.” You blink. You’ve never heard Azriel concede in an argument so easily. You’ve watched him argue with Cassian until he was blue in the face just to win.
“But I don’t. So if you’re done…” he trails off, his hand that holds the needle going a bit higher to get into your eyeline. A reminder to both of you that he needs to finish the job Mor started.
You nod, accepting his kindness. The fight eases out of you, slowly leeching from your pores, unable to stand against the softness in his face. Your eyes close more gently this time, the weight of the shadows easing your nerves a bit.
“Just don’t tell me when you’re going to do it, please.”
“Okay, I won’t.” He rubs his thumb along the scar, not applying any pressure. You lean into his touch, unable to stop yourself. The stitch Mor made prickles a bit, but the two of you continue to sit there in a calming silence. Both of his hands now cradle your cheeks, his large palms so comforting you nearly muzzle into them. 
“Azriel, are you ever going to stitch up my face?”
“I’m already done.” 
Your eyes relax, blinking at him. You bring a hand up to your face, touching where the long gash was to find it stitched. 
“I guess that tonic Mor gave me did stop the feeling. Thanks, Az.”
One of his hands gently grabs yours, pulling it from your cheek. He holds it delicately in his own, his thumb swiping across the back of it.
“Stop messing with it. You’ll undo my hard work.” 
“It’s like picking at a scab.”
“Don’t do that either.”
Friends to lovers
A fire crackles in the library, casting a warm glow over the room. Of all the libraries in Night, none of them compare to the one nestled in the Townhouse. It’s smaller than the others, allowing for a more quaint and cozy feel.
The shelves are a bit haphazard, you and Azriel using it as a personal library most of the time. Most books continue notes in the margins from either or both of you - quick scrawl to dictate something for the other or something one of you enjoyed.
The Townhouse is where the two of you spend most of your time - the tighter quarters being enough space for the two of you.
The last few weeks were a blur of Azriel - spending most nights in each other’s beds, 
A blanket’s folded behind your head. You’re tempted to cover your legs with it, but you lean a bit closer into Azriel instead. You are practically draped against his lap, your torso half over his body, a book perched in your hands. He’s using your back as a rest for his book, one hand woven in your hair, the other one making circles in your lower back. 
His shadows flip his pages for him, allowing his hands to lazily wander on their own. It was so domestic and easy, each movement a thrill.
You’re trying to read your book, but if Azriel even asked what it was about you wouldn’t be able to answer. An earlier conversation with Cassian keeps replaying in your mind over and over again, each return to it an attempt to further your resolve.
“Going so soon?” Nesta had pouted, her gray eyes turning pitiful trying to get you to stay longer. “I’ve hardly seen you the past few weeks.”
You started to answer, telling her you hadn’t become that unavailable, when Cassian’s voice boomed through the living room.
“She has to get back to her boyfriend, Nes. He’ll be upset if she’s gone too long. He’ll get broody.”
You had scoffed, nearly jumping at his voice.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Oh yeah? How do you know who I’m talking about? I didn’t say a name.” Cassian came into the room now, amusement on his face as he wiped his hands with a dish rag. 
“Shut up, Cass.”
“He’s not her boyfriend.” Nesta spoke up from the couch. 
“Thank you!”
“You just spend every minute with him, you reek of his scent, and you’re always considering what to do next for him.”
Cassian rounded the couch, plopping down next to Nesta.
“You're his girlfriend without the title.”
“Am not.”
“You sleep in his bed.”
“Not every night.”
Nesta and Cassian looked at each other before turning back to you, almost in unison saying, “or he sleeps in your bed.”
Heat began creeping up your neck, your emotions feeling so violated. You knew the two of you had been close, but was it really so obvious to Cassian of all people?
 “Fine, if you two aren’t dating, I’m sure you won’t mind in two years when Azriel’s dating someone else.”
The words clank through your mind like a dropped bell, the same notes hitting over and over again. Someone else.
“Az?” His name comes out as a whisper, your fear only half wanting him to hear you, the other half begging to be heard.
“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up, his attention still mostly on his book as he tries to finish the paragraph he’s reading.
“Are we dating?”
Azriel looks away from his book, looking down at you in his lap. Even his shadows drop the book onto your back, their attention moving toward their master’s response. He takes a moment, clearly thinking over your question, giving you his full attention. You turn slightly, angling your body to fully see him.
“I suppose we are.” He answers you so nonchalantly, as if this was a well known fact. You sit up now, taking the spot next to him, your book falling off the couch but you don’t care enough to even look at it. His book falls as well, a soft thump onto the carpet. 
“Are you… happy about it?” A million questions race through your mind, but that’s what comes out first. His hands had followed you as you moved, one of them still resting on your hip, lazily dragging his thumb in languid strokes.
“Delighted.” You take the moment to really look at Azriel, his face mere inches from your own. You hadn’t noticed the gradual change over the weeks, but sitting here now, it is impossible to ignore. His face is brighter, eye bags having shrunk to a regular size. He’s been smiling more, a few laugh lines making their ways onto his cheeks. 
Even his clothes are different - looser, more casual attire covered his body, his leathers getting worn only for training and official duties.
Azriel looks like Azriel. Not the spymaster, not the shadowsinger. Not a thing of legend.
But the male you love.
Your hand reaches out, softly cupping his jaw. Your other hand pushes some of his hair off his forehead, the soft curls bouncing back into place after the attempt to tame them. The smile on his face matches your own: full of possibility, love, and hope. A shadow glides across your lips before moving across your whole face, as if imprinting this moment to their memory.
“Are you going to kiss me?” Your mouth is splitting your face in two, too large to contain your smile to just your lips, it reaches the corners of your eyes.
“Once your questions end, I would like to.”
“Do you love me?”
“So much.” You feel how much he does in his gaze, in his hands, in his words. Everything about him - every interaction, every touch, every moment, it all led you here. You’re grateful for every moment of it as his hands gently pull your face to his, his lips warm and gentle as they meld into yours.
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Divider by @tsunami-of-tears
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mickyschumacher · 2 days ago
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[I THINK HE KNOWS!]
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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a fake and curated date in italy on valentine's day is no one's idea of fun except a publicist’s. but all it does it take a walk around monza to know the difference between what's real and what's fake.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, fake dating trope, reader is a graduate uni student, lando being a dream boyfriend, kinda suggestive at the end, mentions of horrible fans and privacy invaded, me knowing nothing about italy let alone lombardy at the end as well.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x fem!reader
𝐖��𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k
𝐀/𝐍: third fic of my series! i really loved writing this one! fake dating is always such a hit or miss to write about but in this case, it was a lot easier. hope you enjoyed it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread
𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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Life’s a funny thing really. Full of mistakes leaving you wondering how you ever got there.  
And as you sat on a bench, looking over at the view of Lake Como in Lombardy, Italy, with ‘hidden’ paparazzi down the street, you began wondering the exact same thing.  
“How long do you think they’ll be here?” You queried, turning your body to face Lando.  
Lando tilted his head, resting his cheek in his hand as he leaned on the top of the bench. His blue eyes briefly raked over you and then where the paparazzi hid. He looked over at his watch. “Give or take twenty minutes. They’ll probably be hungry for actual food soon.”  
You withheld your sigh. How did you get here? Time sure had flown as seven months ago you were just a graduating university student with loan after loan on her shoulders. The very student who still decided to have a sweet treat after handing in her assignment and headed to your favourite cafe. The very student who bumped into Lando Norris and had her bracelet snag on the sleeve of his jacket, landing you in a compromising position as you tried to take it out.  
The very student who woke up the next day with her entire privacy invaded as ‘fans’ hunted you online and seemingly decided not only were you Lando’s girlfriend but the ‘perfect match’. 
That was you.  
Mere hours later, you had Lando’s publicist and underlings knocking at your door with a comprehensive contract and a promise to pay your student loans and pay you. You didn’t think it would last this long. Three months tops... surely. 
So, you signed it. A contract declaring that you were fake dating Lando Norris.  
They said it would help Lando’s image. And help it did. Lando had never looked better to his sponsors. Apparently dating a university graduate makes you look more polished and mature, enough to at least secure a dozen contracts. Most fans seemed to love you. Even the driver’s had taken a liking to you.  
But to you, Lando, and a handful of selectively picked people, this was all fake.  
Every decision was carefully made. The matching jewellery, what he said, what you posted, where you met, the hugs, the arms around the waist, the staring, the kisses... 
And six months later, here you were. On a curated date with the Lando Norris at Lake Como on Valentine’s Day – the third day of your trip. You had both compromised, agreeing to each make a list of things so do in Lombardy, two of which had to be a couple’s activity for the sake of it.  
You had completed most of both of your lists. A visit to Teatro Alla Scala, an opera theatre (your idea, obviously). A guided tour Villa Del Balbianello because Lando needed to see some more real-life scenes of Star Wars (mostly ended up taking photos of you the entire time). An agreed night out from the both of you to Navigli to consume ‘local food.’  
Lando, who desperately wanted to have walk around Lake Como, was sorely disappointed when he spotted the paparazzi hiding around the corner. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching your fingers trail the cracks in the wooden bench.  
“It’s okay,” you assured. “It’ll be over soon anyways.” 
Lando knew you were talking about the paparazzi. But he couldn’t help but think about your relationship with him.  
That day at the cafe... the only reason people thought you two were in a relationship wasn’t just because you were barely a centimetre apart trying to remove your bracelet but in all the photos people had captured, Lando was staring at you like it was love at first sight.  
And before he knew it, everything had gone down. The fans, his publicist, the media... it was a shitshow. And then you showed up two days later having signed a contract to be his fake girlfriend.  
Lando hated it. Fuck, he hated it so much. He hated that he dragged you into this. He hated that every moment with you was planned. And he especially hated that he couldn’t like you openly. Not with you thinking it was fake.  
Lando looked down back at his watch. He sighed, leg beginning to shake out of impatience. 
You raised a brow. Naturally, you put a hand on his arm. “Lando... is everything okay?” 
Lando flickered his eyes to your hand and back to your face. He moved his arm from your grasp, grabbing your hand instead. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he stated.  
Your eyes widened as he stood up, bringing you up with him. “W-What? Lan–we’re supposed to leave in thirty minutes,” you murmured quietly, leaving only him to hear your voice.  
“I don’t care,” he started, increasing his walking pace. “Whatever you do... just hold on to me, okay?” 
You furrowed your brows. “Lando, what are-” 
Abruptly Lando paused in his steps. He turned to you, blue eyes staring hard back at you. “Do you trust me?” 
“I–” 
“Do you trust me? Yes, or no?” He repeated softly. 
You gulped nervously, unable to look away from him. “Yes.” 
A look of relief washed over his face as he nodded. “Good. Then hold on. And don’t let go.” 
“Lando, I still don’t get what you–MEAN!” You yelped as Lando began running in no particular direction. You tightened your grasp on his hand while your legs struggled to catch up to him. The problems of having an athlete boyfriend.  
The wind felt serene. The sun was oddly warm despite it being the winter season. It was as though spring was trying to come a little early. All the early architecture you had seen on the way here was beginning to blur into one uniform colour. You weren’t sure where you were going or why but all you knew was that you were going way too fast.  
“Lando! I swear to God, if you get us killed–” 
“You said you trusted me,” Lando yelled back, cautiously looking over his shoulder. He could see the paparazzi struggling to follow the both of you.  
You panted, pushing your legs to keep up. “I do! Breaking into a sprint all of a sudden with no idea in mind, however, begs a slightly different answer.” 
Lando couldn’t help but laugh over the air and God, did you love it. You had heard of people saying that a laugh could so like music to one’s ears. You never understood it. It was a laugh. A reaction. How could it be musical? But in that moment, you understood. It wasn’t just the laugh. It required the context, the smile, the thought... and only then did it become an orchestrated musical masterpiece.  
Another yelp left your mouth as Lando pulled you to the side, situating yourselves in an empty shaded alleyway. You rested your back as comfortably as you could against the stone while Lando stood in front of you, hand still wrapped around yours.  
You both waited quietly. Turning your head slightly, you could see a small flock of black clothed paparazzi walk by, all ushering and yelling, mystified to how you both had disappeared.  
“Okay,” you swallowed hard, turning back to Lando. “I think they’re...” You seem to have lost your ability to speak as you found Lando staring at you. It had been a common occurrence within the past few months and it never got any easier. “They’re gone,” you confirmed, chest heaving.  
“You should probably start joining me on my workouts,” he mumbled, eyes flickering over you again, absorbing the sight of the thin sheet of sweat across your skin.  
You narrowed your eyes, moving your hand from his grasp to hit him with the side of your bag. A groan fell from his lips. “Ow!” He yelled, making you clasp a hand over his mouth. Your head darted to the side, checking whether anyone heard him.  
“What was that for?” He queried after you removed your hand from his mouth.  
“For being an asshole. And for making me run. Which reminds me... why did you make us run?” You queried with a more than unhappy tone.  
Lando grinned. “We still have one thing on your list to do.” 
You furrowed your brows. “I didn’t add anything else.” 
Lando’s hand rummaged through the pocket of his shorts, taking out a familiar piece of paper – the very one you had written all your activities on. And right at the bottom was an activity you thought you tore off.  
Your eyes widened, hand darting out to grab the piece of paper but Lando was too quick. “Nuh-uh,” he tutted, holding the paper close to him. “I’m getting this framed.” 
You skin burned at his words. You clearly remembered what you wrote.  
Walk the Monza track with Lando (and preferably some gelato). 
“I was supposed to take that off,” you mumbled.  
Lando frowned. “You don’t want to do it? Or did you not want to do it with me?” 
You blinked blankly at Lando. “Are you stupid? Did you read the same thing I did? Obviously with you. I just... we’ll probably get mobbed so it’s a stupid idea.” 
Lando understood what you meant. Visiting in Italy for two days now had proven to be incredibly difficult with a fan asking for a photo every other minute. He was appreciative that you were so understanding but he felt awful. 
“Yeah... I mean it would be crazy if you had a boyfriend who could rent out the entire track for a couple of hours,” Lando yawned, stretching his arms nonchalantly.  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see your mouth fall open. “Lando... you didn’t.” 
Lando rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand once again. “I did. Now come on. We’re going to be late!”  
━━━━━━━━━━━ 
You blinked blankly once you arrived to the empty Monza track. You had preoccupied yourself in the car ride here, pointing out all the interesting things you were seeing as Lando drove to the track. You were going to fall asleep if you hadn’t arrived there any earlier. But now that you were... you didn’t think your eyes could get any wider.  
“Is that a...” You turned to Lando with twinkling eyes.  
“Just go pick your flavour,” he narrowed his eyes.  
A squeal fell from your lips and before you knew it, you were hugging Lando tightly. You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, happily accepting your hug. “Thank you,” you murmured next to his ear.  
Lando smiled calmly despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. He was sure he could stay like this forever if he could. “You’re welcome. I... It’s so much less than what you deserve, but it’s all I could think to do given the... circumstances.”  
You stared at the pavement of the track heavily, Lando’s words swirling around your head. Right... the circumstances. You cleared your throat, pulling away from him even though you could’ve sworn you felt him tighten his grasp momentarily.  
“Come on. Pick your flavour or I’m just going to get you all chocolate,” you called out, waking over to the gelato cart he had hired. 
Lando sighed, briefly making a disgusted expression. He followed after you with a small smile. Despite the wind, he could still smell you on him.  
You greeted the cart owner, excitedly eyeing all the gelato flavours. There were so many to choose from... how were you ever going to pick? “Can I get...” 
“She’ll get mango, chocolate, raspberry, and lemon in a cup,” Lando finished, hovering behind you.  
You gaped, snapping your head to Lando. “How did you know?” 
“Better question is,” Lando started, resting his mouth right above your shoulder and near your ear, “why wouldn’t I?” 
You shivered at his words, cheeks burning at the small grin playing on his lips. “I’m not sharing any of mine,” you muttered, moving your eyes to the gelato.  
Lando pouted teasingly. “Please,” he sung, tilting his head so you could see him blink his eyes rapidly. 
You gulped, taking a step away before you succumbed to his wishes. “I think I’m going to throw up.” 
Lando gasped. “So rude!” 
You chuckled taking the cup of gelato while thanking the owner. Lando narrowed his eyes at you, ordering his own combination of pistachio, melon, and orange.  
You made a face at his cup as he walked towards you. “There is something so wrong with you.” 
Lando rolled his eyes, nudging you forwards to the entrance of the track. “Just be quiet and walk.” 
━━━━━━━━━━━ 
You and Lando walked comfortably at your own pace around the track, eating your gelato while he explained parts of the track or its history.  
“I’m not gonna lie,” you started, finishing your spoonful of raspberry, “Curva Parabolica makes me feel sick. Every time it came on the TV, I thought I was going to throw up.” 
Lando raised a brow, resting his spoon in his cup. “I thought you didn’t watch them?” 
It was always Lando’s assumption you didn’t watch the races. Even when you came to them, if there was a camera, you’d flash a smile, otherwise there was no other reason to be there. You were at the podiums because you had to be, not because you wanted to be. 
You snorted, looking at him incredulously. “Of course, I watch them. Why wouldn’t I? You’re freaking racing! I’m always so proud of you, no matter where or how you finish. You don’t see me next your mum and dad, cheering you on at the end of the race?” 
Of course he did. You were the first person he would look for at a race. And if you weren’t there, he’d look at the camera in hopes you were watching. And all this time... you had been.  
Lando’s mouth dried. “I just thought...” 
You looked at his face and you could read his mind. “You thought it was fake.” 
He blinked, regret washing over his face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” he apologised.  
You took a spoonful of your mango gelato and eyeing his mournful expression. “It’s okay. If there’s one thing you should know, my proudness and happiness for you isn’t fake. Even if this whole thing is.” 
And there it was again. The bitter reminder that this entire relationship was fake. That perhaps the only real thing in your relationship was how you met.  
But this was real. 
This – the track, the gelato, the conversation – this was real.  
Lando sucked in a sharp breath, moving his eyes to the rest of the track as he ate large soon of his melon gelato. He exhaled slowly, trying to remember where he was once again. “Okay... pop quiz! Who was Variante Ascari named after?” 
You cleared your throat, pulling on a thoughtful expression. “Um Al.. Alberto Ascari? The Italian driver, right?” 
“Thank God someone’s been paying attention,” he joked as you neared the named turn.  
You rolled your eyes. “I should thank Fewtrell for that one. Remember that stream he made us join?” 
“Yeah,” Lando laughed softly, all the memories hitting him at once. It was really sweet of Max actually. It was a time when some ‘fans’ were being particularly awful to you. Saying you were using Lando for fame because you barely knew anything about the sport.  
Max then created a poorly made quiz about Formula 1 and got you and Lando to join. Max and Lando pretended not to know much so you were all in the same boat. And any time the right answer was mention, Lando would occasionally squeeze your leg to give you a clue. The stream was flooded with some of the kindest comments, telling you to ignore everyone else and just focus on your health and your relationship with Lando.  
It was one of the moments where you realised how good of a friend Max was. Lando was lucky to have someone who cared for him that much.  
Lando looked down at his cup and let out a dramatic sigh. 
You didn’t even need to bat an eye towards. “I told you I'm not sharing,” you reminded, quickening your pace.  
It didn’t take long for him to catch up. “Please, please. I can see you have like two spoons of mango and lemon. Come on. Sharing is caring.” 
“No–Lando! Stop following me!”  
All of a sudden, you and Lando were running again. But this time, you weren’t worried about some paparazzi or the destination. It was just you and Lando.  
“No offense, but you are not outrunning me,” Lando called out from behind you, running with what you were pretty sure was a smug grin. 
You huffed, trying to push your legs further but you could feel him hovering. You came to an abrupt halt. “You’re right. I can’t outrun you,” you smiled, turning to him. “But I can out-eat you.” 
Lando’s grin dropped as you combined the two flavours of gelato and plopped them in your mouth. He stood there, dumbfounded while you happily ate the rest.  
You replicated his smug grin from earlier and poked your tongue out. “All finished. Sorry,” you shrugged with no sound of an apology hidden in your voice.  
Lando swallowed hard, eyes fixated on your mouth. A step closer to you, his body was pressed on yours. His hand travelled up your neck, the other hand resting on your waist to pull you closer.  
You inhaled slowly, hairs on your body standing straight. You tried meeting his eyes but all you could see was him focus on your lips. Instinctively, your hand fell to his arm around your waist, fastening yourself to him.  
“I... I think I can still taste it,” he said, voice hoarse and dry. He wasn’t sure if he could even recognise himself. 
“Lando... I–we're not on the clock,” you whispered, unwilling to untangle yourself from his grasp.  
“I don’t care.” 
In the blink of an eye, Lando’s lips were smashed against yours and fuck, his lips were soft and pillowy as usual. Your stomach churned upon feeling Lando pushing you closer to him, if that were possible. His fingers were cold against your skin, creeping under the hem of your shirt to rub tingling circles onto your skin.  
A breathy gasp fell from your lips while goosebumps littered your skin. Lando took advantage of this, groaning against your lips as he darted his tongue to explore your mouth. He could feel himself press into you, rubbing his hard-on against you.  
You think now would be an appropriate time to self-implode. You had all the signs. Burning skin, dizziness, and the lost ability to breathe. 
Lando almost buckled under your touch as your fingers scoured his taut torso, lingering dangerously close to his v-line. 
“Holy fuck,” he gasped, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. His hands had found themselves holding yours, preventing you from undoing him any further. His chest heaved, rising up and down while he stared at your swollen lips and moved his eyes to meet yours.  
“I want this to be real,” he pleaded, moving your hand to his face. “Please.” 
“Lando,” you started but he didn’t want to hear it.  
He shook his head. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I think I have been since we first met,” he sighed out, collecting himself. “I don’t want to do this when it’s fake. I want to be with you because what I feel is real. Because you drive me crazy and I can’t imagine a future without you.” 
You blinked, feeling his hand trail over yours as you caressed his face. Your heart raced loudly in your ears. How were you supposed to respond to that? “I...” 
“Please say something. Anything,” he begged, blue eyes heavily staring down at you. 
“As long as you promise to walk with me on every track. Oh, and get me gelato.” 
Lando let out the biggest sigh of relief, almost collapsing against your hand. His head dipped down, pressing his lips against you once again, taking you into a long kiss. He sighed, pulling away.  
His arms fell around your waist as he grinned at you. “I promise.” 
© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 
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tojicide · 12 hours ago
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JEALOU$Y. ☆ CALEB.
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𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦. at the end of the day, you and caleb are just childhood friends—nothing more, nothing less. so, when you mention going on a date, it’s totally logical that he wouldn’t care, right? if only that were the truth.
𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. fem! reader, current! caleb, zayne mention, jealousy, pet names, praise, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie. 𝑤𝑐. 5.4k.
𝑛𝘰𝑤 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔. jealou$y — the neighbourhood.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request
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Doomsday has finally dawned upon Linkon City, though Caleb seems to be the only person truly affected by this catastrophe.
It was all his fault in the grand scheme of things. He hadn’t been clear enough, hadn’t shown the full extent of his feelings for you. But above all, he should have never offered Zayne those measly words of advice.
He should have known that the doctor had ulterior motives. Why else would he have called Caleb up one week ago to ask about you of all people?
It was a mean ploy, truly. Anyone and everyone knows about Caleb’s inability to shut up about you, his sole weakness was being exploited right in front of his eyes and he was none the wiser. The questions seemed harmless then. Posed as genuine curiosity, Caleb would have never been able to decipher the hidden intent behind each word that Zayne spoke into the receiver.
What are her days off? What does she do in her free time? You said that the restaurant around the corner from Akso Hospital was her favorite, yes?
In retrospect, he should have absolutely seen this coming. But then again, nothing could have ever prepared Caleb to hear those four life-altering words slipping from your lips.
“I have a date.”
A record scratches in his brain, forcing him to halt his steps for an abnormally long time before he slowly turns to face you. “You… what?”
Hearing the words repeated in that saccharine tone of yours only added salt to the wound, oddly enough. It physically pained him to ask for more information about your date, though he managed to hide his disdain with that boyish grin of his and a bit of lighthearted teasing.
But inside? That little green monster was stirring, and there was very little he could do to quell it.
Begrudgingly, he managed to get the key details before forcing himself to stow away in his bedroom and… think. Next Thursday. 6 PM. Maltosio Restaurant. With Zayne.
The next week passed by in an agonizingly slow fashion. It was as though each X that marked a passing day was a physical blow to his already aching heart, and those adorable images of the kittens on his calendar (the calendar that you picked out) did very little to help him.
Subtlety was never his strong suit, but then again, desperate times call for desperate measures. And believe Caleb when he says that he is very much desperate.
“Soo…” he’d drawl, leaning over the back of the couch to peer down at you. “I heard there’s a screening of that movie you’ve been wanting to see at the drive-in next Thursday. Wanna come with?”
You perked up like a ball of excitement, and for a moment, Caleb allowed himself to get his hopes up, but your frown quickly dissipated them. “Next Thursday? Oh, no, I can’t make it! I’m going out with Zayne, remember?”
Of course he remembered. That was exactly why he hadn’t let up—not even once—in his attempts to distract you just enough to make you forget all about your dinner plans. He could take you out for a nice dinner too. Say, that’s actually a good idea…
The next day, Caleb tried that one.
“Oh, pip-squeak,” he sang, his airy voice ringing through your apartment as he walked down the hallway. “I got us reservations at the restaurant in Skyhaven that you’ve been itchin’ to check out.”
You perked up, just like you did before. “Really?”
He nodded with a triumphant grin, internally patting himself on the back for his own good idea. “Mm-hmm. Next Thursday. Got us those window seats you wanted too—the ones that overlook the city.”
And once again, your gaze softened, and an all-too-adorable pout tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Oh, Caleb, I’m sorry. I’m busy that day.”
You really are too sweet for your own good. He can’t even blame Zayne for taking an interest in you, he’d be downright shocked if any man with two seeing eyes had the audacity to not think that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Caleb sure does. He always has. He always will.
It wasn’t long before the day of reckoning was upon him. Thursday evening. Sunlight cut through the blinds in the living room, casting golden hues across the vast space. Much to his dismay, the trashy reality television you’d left on the screen did very little to soothe his worries.
He fidgeted with the dog chains you’d gifted him, his thumb brushing along the gift that you had so kindly given him. It was a testament to your bond. A bond that something as trivial as a single evening apart couldn’t tamper with… right?
“Caleb!” Your antsy voice cut through the air, forcing his wandering mind to snap back to reality.
He was up and down the hallway before you could even say another word, pressing a flat hand to your door to nudge it open. It was then that he saw you, all dolled up in your robe with your favorite dresses laid out on your bed.
Your hands grasp onto two of the hangers, holding them up side-by-side to help him get a better look at them. Though, his eyes were noticeably distracted, contorted in an unfamiliar lovesick expression as they pierced into yours. “Quick! Which do you think is cuter?”
Caleb blinks—once, twice, three times—until he forces himself to finally look down at the dress options in your grasp. He’d seen you wear them plenty of times before, and the thought of someone else seeing you in such beautiful fabric nearly made his stomach lurch.
He raises his forearm, leaning against the doorframe as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, c’mon, that’s an impossible choice. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.”
It was a typical response, one that you were expecting, though his lack of advice made you hmph as you lost yourself in your thoughts. “Well… I hear polka dots symbolize happiness and stripes symbolize slipping between realms. Pretty interesting stuff, huh?”
“Very interesting,” he says, the corner of his mouth tugging up at the mere sound of your voice. “Is that why you buy so many things in those patterns?”
You quirk an eyebrow, confusion etching into your expression. “Huh? What else do I buy that’s…” It quickly dawns on you, and you can feel heat creep up your neck and reach your face. “You’re a jerk.”
Caleb can’t help but laugh, taking a few steps into the room so that he can properly look at each and every one of the dress options laid out on your bed. “What’s the matter? If I remember correctly, someone was beggin’ me to do her laundry. Somethin’ about the laundry machine being sooo far and your feet hurting sooo bad.”
Huffing and far too flustered for your own good, you shake your head. “Well… well I didn’t realize you were so observant.”
He clicks his tongue, absentmindedly pinching your side as he leans down to rest his chin in the dip of your shoulder. “Tsk. You know I’m always observant when it comes to you. Even if it’s remembering something as trivial as the patterns of your cute little undies.”
You swat him away. “You’re so annoying!”
To that, he can only chuckle, giving your sides a brief squeeze before taking a few steps back. “Alriiight, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Before exiting the room entirely, he hangs onto the doorframe, giving you a soft smile. “I’m serious though. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” His lips curve into a smirk. “But if you want my input—you know I’ve always been a sucker for seeing you in florals.”
And with that, he whisks away, silently hoping and praying that this date will fall through on its own. Plopping back down on the couch, his eyes are practically glued to his watch. 5:48 PM. It wouldn’t be long before Zayne would be knocking at the front door—punctual as ever. Oh, it made him sick.
How could he have done this? To you, to himself? Caleb should be ashamed. He should be the one sitting across from you later tonight, holding your hand and listening to you ramble about whatever your heart desires. It should be him. It would have been him if he wasn’t so damn afraid.
But the sound of approaching heels clicking along the hardwood floor quickly snapped him out of his pity party, prompting him to look over his shoulder. And there you were once again, now adorned in a floral sundress that had made him lose his mind more times than he’d like to admit.
Under his breath, he can’t help but mutter, “Yeah, you’re gonna kill me…”
It was his favorite dress of yours, too. You really were trying to kill him. A white dress that was littered with blue flowers, the fabric fit you perfectly, loose and fitted in all of the right places.
Zayne didn’t deserve to see you like this. Plain and simple.
Standing from the couch, he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “There she is,” he says, taking your hand to spin you around a single time. His smile only widens as he sees yours. “You look gorgeous, just like I knew you would.”
You roll your eyes with a bashful smile, one that he has to physically fight the urge to kiss away. “Oh, you flatter me,” you say through a laugh.
He shakes his head, bringing a hand up to gently smooth down a pesky hair on the top of your head. “Can’t be flattery if I mean every word of it.”
A breeze wafted through the open window, blowing the fabric of your dress ever so slightly. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers infiltrates the living room, though the scent of your perfume and something that was uniquely you had his full attention.
“Y’know, you can be pretty nice when you want to be,” you say, raising an eyebrow.
Chuckling, he simply nods, his large hands settling on your middle. “Yeah. When I want to be.”
You brush past him, padding over to the back door. Pushing it open, you step out onto the warm concrete patio, breathing in the fresh air that the backyard had to offer you. Spring in Linkon was always a delight, though the warmth that Caleb radiates behind you serves to be the most comforting thing about the entire scene.
His hand comes to rest on the curve of your shoulder, his fingers nimbly pulling at one of the straps of your dress. With his heart rate shooting through the roof, he forces himself to take a moment. He needs to get this right. This may be the last chance he’ll be able to do this.
“I… look, there’s something that I—”
But suddenly, the sound of rapping knuckles at the front door cuts through the tense silence. Both of your attention is drawn to the closed door, and having left the back door open, you both have a clear view of it.
You turn around to face Caleb, offering him a sheepish smile. “That’s probably Zayne.”
He only nods, forcing his hand to fall back to his side. “Yeah, probably.”
This was it. He was losing you. It stung to know that this was no one’s fault apart from his own. His inability to be honest about his feelings, his lack of forwardness with you… what was he expecting? That you’d never date? That he could keep you happy forever without offering you anything more?
It was a stupid fantasy, one that had earned him this spot. But when he saw you turn to leave, your eyes still locked on his, a surge of panic shot up his spine. His eyes flit around—the grass, the flowerbeds, the hose… that was currently filling up the pool…
“Be mad at me later,” he suddenly says.
Your eyebrows shoot up. “Wha— ah!”
Before you could even begin to process what was happening, you were suddenly pushed back into the chamber full of chlorine infested water. Caleb watches with a wry expression as you shoot up from beneath the water, splashing aimlessly as you swim towards the edge.
“What the fuck was that?” you bark, perching one elbow up onto the concrete as you reach the other one out to him. “What the hell are you looking at? Help me out!”
Caleb can’t even protest, not with the incredibly irrational stunt he’d just pulled. “I’m sorry, pip-squeak, I just…” And so, he reaches down, his hand clasping around yours… until you pull him forward with all of your strength and send him tumbling into the pool too.
And when he comes up for air, you splash him the moment he opens his eyes. Serves him right. The chlorine will sting his eyes almost as much as your mascara is stinging yours right now.
With that, you pull yourself out of the pool, a trail of water marking your path as you wring out the fabric of your dress. After that, you disappear inside of the house, leaving Caleb to rub his eyes in utter defeat.
He gives you both a long stretch of alone time before he retreats back into the house like a kicked puppy, his head hanging low as he runs a hand through his wet strands of hair.
Sucking in a short breath, he knocks twice at your shut bedroom door. “Honey? It… it’s me.”
“Go away,” you retort without missing a single beat.
Caleb pokes his tongue into his cheek as he leans forward, resting his forehead on the cool surface of your bedroom door. “C’mon. Just… talk to me.”
It doesn’t take long before the door is swung open, revealing an incredibly angry version of you with a freshly cleaned face. He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, to try and rectify the situation in any way he can, but you beat him to it. Quickly.
“How dare you?” you spit, jabbing your index finger into his chest. “What was that, Caleb? Are we ten years old again? Your method of communication is… is pushing me into the damn pool?”
He sighs, catching your hand to unfold your closed fingers. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I—”
“No!” you cut him off, sticking your other index finger into his chest. “It’s your turn to listen. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, you’re all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever wanted. Do you know how it feels to have everything you want dangled in front of you for so many years, and… and just torn away? Time and time again?”
Caleb is rendered speechless, his brows furrowed in both confusion and a sense of odd relief as you unleash all of the thoughts that you’ve kept hidden for so long. He doesn’t bother catching your other hand, instead, he allows you to repeatedly jab at his chest. It hurts, but he can handle it. Just like he can handle the words you’re saying.
“So, you know what? I decided that enough was enough!” you continue, your index finger pressing wildly into the hard planes of his chest. “I wasn’t going to wait around, I wasn’t going to pretend, I was going to move on! And… and I was going to!”
He tilts his head, his amethyst eyes growing fuzzy as he looks down at you. “Was going to?”
You huff, eyes narrowing as you jab your finger into his chest for a final time before turning away from him. “Well, I’m not exactly going on a date anymore, am I?”
Caleb nods, though you can’t see it. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze tracing your silhouette through the soaked fabric of your dress. Sighing, he straightens off the wall, but before he can turn away, you spin around to face him.
“And you know what else?” you huff. “You know the solution to this problem just as well as I do.”
He nods his head with a single jerk of his chin, beckoning you to continue. “Yeah? What’s that?”
You step closer, and for the final time, you stab your finger into his pec. “You need to grow a pair.”
Inhaling deeply, all he can do is smile. It infuriates you and he knows it, but he just can’t help himself. He takes both of your wrists and tugs you forward until your chest presses against his own, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.
You’re slowly simmering down, the heat of your outburst dissipating as your skin cooled. With your eyebrows still furrowed, all you can do is look up at him, daring him to speak. To do anything.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.
Swallowing thickly, you nod. “A little.”
He slowly nods his head, his fingers curving along your jaw before he cups your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “Is there anything I can do to help with that?”
You can feel his breath fan along your lips, cool and minty and just about everything you could have ever fantasized about on your own. You part your lips to reply, but this time, Caleb is the one who beats you to it.
“We’re making puddles all over the floor, you know.”
Glancing down, you see the truth in his words. The pool water dripped from your respective clothing and gathered around the two of you, making a wry smile find your lips.
“Oh,” you breathe, “I didn’t even notice.”
“I like to think I’m pretty observant when it comes to you,” he murmurs, smoothing his free hand along your side until it grasps onto the fabric of your dress. “Need some help with this?”
You look up, meeting his gaze once more. “With… with what?”
“Well,” he drawls, his fingertips brushing along your outer thigh as he slowly drags the fabric upward. His movements are hesitant and cautious, his eyes flickering between each of yours. “You’re wet. I’m wet. Maybe we can… help each other dry off.”
Your eyelids falter as they flit between his, your gaze instinctively falling to the plush curve of his bottom lip. “Okay,” you murmur.
A smile tugs at his mouth. “Okay. Arms up.”
Slowly, you lift your arms above your head. His hands work together to slowly push the fabric of your dress up and over your head, letting it slip onto the floor with a wet plop.
His breath is nearly torn from his lungs the moment he sees your bare skin, so beautiful and soft and made to be his. Hesitantly, his fingertips trace the curve of your hips with a sense of reverence.
“Do you need help too?” you ask, your voice breathy from the restrained sense of need that has come over you.
Pausing his exploration of your bare skin, Caleb finds himself nodding, almost immediately lifting his arms over his head. “Please.”
And now, you take the opportunity to do the same. Slowly, you peel his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly into the laundry hamper near the door. Your gaze traces over the defining lines of his abdomen, your touch doing the same as it trails southward.
His lower stomach tenses up as your fingers brush against the hem of his jeans. He can’t help the way his eyes flutter shut, the way a touch so simple can nearly bring him to his knees. Breathing shakily, he leans down to rest his forehead on yours.
“Careful,” he breathes in warning, his voice taking on a raspy tone.
You almost startle at the unfamiliarity of his voice, though you push your hesitation aside as your thumb brushes over the button of his pants. “But… these are wet too.”
A huff of air leaves his mouth, the sound something between a low laugh and a groan. He forces his eyes open, his stare meeting your own. “Trying to get me naked before our first kiss? I have to say, you’re full of surprises.”
Faltering, your hands fall away from his pants. “You’re right, I… I’m—”
Caleb can’t help but chuckle, taking a hold of your hands to bring them right back to where they were before. This time, he guides your fingers through the motion of unbuttoning his pants. “Kidding,” he whispers against your lips. “Besides… we’re good at multitasking, yeah?”
You’re nodding before you can truly process his words. “Yeah.”
His lips crash onto yours with a groan that omits from deep within, the button of his jeans finally popping open from your ministry. The zipper went next, tugged down along with the fabric entirety until he was left in only his boxers.
His hands roam your curves greedily, eating up every inch of skin that he has deprived himself of for far too long. Your waist, your hips, your thighs—he needs to feel you in any way possible.
And you return his eagerness so well, wrapping your arms around his neck as you draw him in even closer. His hands worked quickly, hoisting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked the both of you over to your bed.
Laying you down on the mattress, he takes the initiative to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip to gain access that you readily give him. He can’t help but moan into your mouth, the sweet taste of your tongue tangling with his own forcing his brain to short circuit in a way he’s never experienced before.
You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and he was loving every second of it. Your hands fisted into his hair while your lips moved in tandem with his, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands gave your hips a firm squeeze.
His lips trail down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck and the curve of your shoulder as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you flush against him. A gasp leaves you at the feeling of his erection pressing against your clothes sex, the friction so delicious that it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.
Caleb is so far gone, kissing his way along your arms, your neck, your sternum, all up until he reaches the valley of your breasts. He wastes very little time there, licking a trail to your nipple before sucking the peak into his mouth. His other hand palms at your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, his hips rocking forward as he switches sides, latching onto your neglected breast and giving it a hard suck. “So beautiful.”
His descent continues as he mouths at the soft skin of your belly, your hips, your inner thighs. His eyes depart from yours as they settle onto the fabric covering your cunt, and a grin stretches across his face. Polka dots.
You scoff, softly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t even say it.”
Chuckling, he leans in to press a kiss on the damp patch of fabric. “Wasn’t gonna say anything, baby.”
His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aimlessly. His lips press feverish kisses to your ankles, your calves, your inner thighs, and eventually, the mound of your pussy.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispers into your heat, hiking your legs up and over his shoulders and he pulls your sex closer to his mouth. “So damn worth it.”
A cry leaves you as his tongue delves in deep between your legs, his eyes slipping shut as he lets out an unabashed whimper into your sex. His grip on your thighs only tightens, keeping your legs spread apart as they threaten to press in on his head.
He wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t. He needed to have you in the way that he’s dreamt of for so long, in the way that he’s thought of time and time again as he fucked his own fist to the thought of you. It was filthy, it was lewd, but it was honest.
You tasted better than he could have ever imagined, his tongue eagerly lapping at your inner walls before his lips sealed around your puffy clit, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off the plush mattress.
The stimulation is leaving you feeling overwhelmed, your hands pushing into his hair as your trembling thighs test the strength of his grip. You whine, eyes slipping shut as your head tilts back against the pillows.
“It— it’s too much—”
“Be good,” he finds himself saying, pulling you right back to his mouth as he continues to feast on your pussy like a man starved. “You can take it, baby.” Caleb cracks open his eyes, sucking harshly onto your clit before releasing it with a wet pop. “Go on, pretty girl. Say it.”
You whine, though you hardly have the brain power to say anything else apart from what he’s asked of you. “I… I can take it,” you breathe.
He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your sensitive pearl before nipping at it. “There you go.”
It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble once more, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, a final resort for reprieve as he works you over the edge.
Caleb redoubled his efforts, spreading your thighs even wider. Soon, the warmth pooling in your lower stomach was far too much to bear, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.
“I’m… I’m coming,” you gasp out, hands gripping tightly onto his dark locks of hair.
And when you do, his flattened tongue laps at your honeyed release. He works you through your high, his movements eventually slowing down as the twitching of your hips gradually calms.
He pulls off of you with a wet pop, pressing soft kisses to your swollen clit. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, pressing another peck on your mound before he moves back up your body once more to slot his lips against yours.
You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only spurs you on further. Your hands grasp onto his shoulders, and in one swift motion, you flip him onto his back. Caleb looks up at you with a starry-eyed expression, but when you straddle his hips and sit in his lap, he has no words of protest. None at all.
“You really are full of surprises,” he says, running his hands along the warm skin of your thighs.
Tugging him free from his boxers, he helps you remove them from his body, leaving you both entirely bare together. He sits up, his back pressing against the headboard as he tugs you closer to him.
“I need you,” he whispers, pressing a longing kiss on your stomach as you shift to straddle him once more. “Please, baby.”
You gaze down at him, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Please what?”
He leans into your touch, his hands settling onto your waist as he pulls you lower, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. “Make yourself feel good. Please.”
Caleb’s own cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, both from the embarrassment that his own lack of experience brought upon him and the reality of finally having the love of his life in such an intimate way. His amethyst eyes search your face, as if searching for a permission that he didn’t know how to ask for.
Dipping your head, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Simultaneously, you swivel your hips until the tip of his length catches your entrance. You slowly lower yourself, feeling the way his cock stretches you out, filling you up in a way that only he can.
He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand. Brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, he kisses you gently. “You feel so good,” he whimpers into your mouth, his other hand resting on your hip as you roll your hips in a way that has his breath hitching in his throat. “So fucking perfect.”
Your movements are timid at first, consisting of a slow and meticulous rocking of your hips. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing the deepest points of your inner walls with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.
Caleb’s hands grasped tightly onto your hips, helping you set a pace that had the both of you losing your mind. He leans backward, his head tilting against the headboard as it slams against the wall with each intense grind of your hips.
“Good girl, give it to me how you like it,” he breathes, eyes cracking open to watch the way you look down at him as you work yourself on his length. “Use me however you need me, baby, there you go.”
Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him in for a longing kiss. “I… you— you feel so…” you stammer, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder as you lose yourself on his cock.
He nods his head in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss on your damp cheek as he gently pets your hair. “I know, I know.”
You lose yourself all together, your legs shaking as you tighten your hold on him. “Caleb!” you moan.
His hips help you the rest of the way, his grip on your hips keeping you firmly planted as he meets your movements with thrusts of his own. “I know it, baby, I’ve got you,” he pants through a smile, guiding you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Atta girl, use those hips.”
His arms wrap around you entirely, crushing you against the hard planes of his chest as you slowly ride the both of you through your shared orgasm. In that moment, in your house, in this space that belonged to you and Caleb alone—the two of you became one.
Heavy breathing and hammering heartbeats is all that consumes the two of you for a long while, skin to skin with far too much bliss brewing in your chests for either of you to handle alone.
Huffing softly, Caleb runs a hand up your side. “You okay in there?” he asks, turning his head to pepper soft kisses along your cheek. “C’mon, I need some proof of life.”
You chuckle, shaking your head as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “Shut up, give me a second.”
He merely smiles, wrapping his arms around your middle once more as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Thirty seconds after finishing and you’re already mean. “There’s my girl.”
Caleb’s hands smooth over the soft planes of your back, giving your hips a soft squeeze as he revels in the feeling of your heartbeat drumming against his own. He can’t help himself from pressing a few kisses on the top of your head, his arms opting to wrap even tighter around you.
“I love—” he cuts himself off, eyes widening dazedly. Would that be too much? A confession of his undying love not long after ruining your date and making love with you for the first time? After a stretch of awkward silence, he kisses your head once more. “I love… cuddling with you. You’re so soft.”
You smile, nuzzling even closer to his chest, your nose brushing against skin. “Mm, I love you too, Caleb.”
His eyes widened, though he knows that communicating his confusion is futile. You knew him so well, too well.
“You do?” he whispers, turning his head just enough to look down at you.
In response to that, you nod. “Mm-hmm. I’ll love you even more if you tell me that you didn’t cancel those dinner reservations.”
Caleb smiles, running a hand over your hair. As if he’d given up his last ditch effort to take you out. “You know I didn’t.”
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𝑛𝘰𝘵𝑒. rip zayne i still love you king!!! also i actually don’t really know how to write for caleb… so… i hope this didn’t suck! this is the only fic that managed to break my intense writer’s block that i’ve had for the past two months. reblog/comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate you reading so much <3
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gooobraghhh · 2 days ago
Text
Somno as a way to brat tame is so underrated
Imagine a brat, tired from a long day of acting up, never truly giving in the whole time but they’re completely exhausted after putting up a fight for so long. They innocently fall asleep, proud of their defiance and you just let It happen because you know their training is about to start.
After a while, long enough to where they’re deeper in sleep, it’s all to easy to pull their clothes aside and start gently teasing wherever they’re most sensative. For some that might be their chest, but more commonly clit/ tdick/frenulum will do the trick. Carefully start circling it and tracing it up and down at a painfully slow pace. Normally this would be torturous but their sleeping body is gonna take whatever you want to give it, no complaints. Then just take your time and have patience. You get to enjoy the show of hearing their little soft breathy moans and seeing their face wince between whines. An honest expression of how good they feel, a refreshing change from the normal defiance and snarky comments.
The goal from here on out is just to tease them for as long as possible. Enjoy feeling as they get miserably hard or messy. You want to toy with them an amount they absolutely could not withstand if they were awake. Just be careful not to push them over the edge and actually let them cum, they need to ride that line for as long as possible. Once they’re sufficiently primed and you’ve gotten a good eye and earful of their embarrassing involuntary reactions just fix their clothes a bit and pretend to roll, or nudge into them in your sleep. Not so much that it’s obvious you’re doing it on purpose but just enough to wake them up inconspicuously.
If all goes well they’ll groggily get up and get hit by a wave of crippling arousal. Almost as if they’d been getting denied for hours. It’s hard to even rationally with how deliriously needy they feel but your brat will quickly realize they have a decision to make. Do they wake you up so you can help relieve them, or do they try to get themselves off without you knowing. Going back to bed is nearly impossible at this point so it’s going to be one or the other.
If they wake you up make sure to really rub their face in how embarrassing this is. Have them communicate in detail how desperate they are and make them beg, apologize and humiliate themselves for your help. They should be essentially broken by the beginning thanks to your hard work. You can either not mention that you toyed with them in their sleep and just start letting them believe they’re so much of a slut waking up desperately horny is a new trait they have or around the time you get them close to finishing you can tell them all the details of what you did, and how cutely they reacted, let them realize how easily they were trained to obediently come to you for relief.
If they try to get off themselves that works too. Just pretend to sleep while you listen carefully to their moans and whines. When they start getting more frequent and hectic, letting you know they’re close, simply wake up and catch them red handed. Then you get to tease and make fun of them for being so much of a pervert they tried to get off next to you while you weren’t awake. You’ll watch their face get all red and shy, a lot more pleasant than the usual defiance. Then they are faced with another decision, do they keep going and jerk off in-front of you like a depraved whore, or do they now start begging you for your help. I think that’s definitely the most humiliating combination of outcomes. But after all that teasing and almost getting close themselves, they’re just gonna be desperate for bodily relief, dignity at the wayside. You can really make them beg after that level of humiliation. Then you can hold how desperate they were over their head. After all, that was all of their own volition, as far as they know you didn’t do anything, only have themselves to blame. You can keep up consistent night training if you really want to ensure their obedience. generally just consider adding somno to your routine brat training, it really messes with their head more than most other methods and has them convinced they’re a total needy pervert.
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owuwi · 2 days ago
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cw: porn w/o plot, sub!jinx, top!afab!reader, one slap (jinx receiving), drooling, squirting, TOO SHORT
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jinx is the type of girl who's just too fucking obsessed with you in every single possible way.
no matter what she's doing, you're always on her mind—your soft whispers being the only voice she accepts in her mind, your figure the only shadow she loves to see.
she's not afraid to show who she really is with you, not when she knows you're nothing but supportive; so she's not shy to act like a bitch in heat when you fuck her.
the sight of the blue-haired girl's tongue lolled out as you slide your thick strap in and out of her tight pussy was one that deserved to be in the filthiest porn video possible—maybe one day you'd record her and make her witness the mess you always turn her into.
she uses her own drool that's now dribbling down her chest as moisture to play with her perky, pink nipples; thin and shaky fingers harshly pulling on the hardened buds as you thrust into her with a torturous pace.
with your slow yet deep movements, it doesn't take the girl long before she spaces out—in a good way—. the sinful sounds her needy cunt makes as you fuck her are louder than her moans, which is definitely quite surprising for the both of you, though it only makes her get even more lost on the pleasure you're providing her.
the firm yet gentle smack of your hand against her pale cheek is what pulls her out of her daydreaming, magenta eyes opening to meet your own gaze. "focus on me.." your rough voice only serves to make her wetter —the light sting your palm burned in the side of her face being the reason why she gushes against your strap, soaking the towel beneath her cute ass.
as she rides out her orgasm, she's not shy to buck against the length of your cock; broken whines and whimpers leaving her chapped lips, painted nails desperately scratching over your back.
to say jinx isn't shy is an understandment.
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slut4megantheestallion · 3 days ago
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"Mine to ruin" - Jinx (arcane)
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Mdni. Bottom!reader, strap-on usage, Dom!Jinx, wlw, wlw x reader, teasing, dirty talk, Doggystyle, breeding kink.
ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐
The dim neon lights painted by the walls in shifting hues, pulsing in the time in with your heartbeat. The mattress beneath you creaked, your mascara messed up from the hot kissing you had with jinx before you ended up in the ended up in bed in a doggystyle position. Jinx pressed her body against yours, her fingers trailing over the back of your skin like she was memorizing every inch.
"Damn, sweets..." her voice was a low, sultry purr. "Look at you. Bent over for me. With my cock inside of you, just beggin' to get wrecked. You're so good for me, y'know that?"
Her hands roam, fingers digging into your hips as she rolled her hips against you thrusting into you, slow at first, teasing, making you whimper as you whimper in frustration as you grip on the bed for some stability.
"AH~ Fuck! Jinx wants more, baby! Harder!~" You moan loudly impatiently as jinx chuckles at how desperate you are.
"Aww, you want more? What, this ain't enough for ya, slut?" She giggles, breath warm against your ear. "Nah, I think I wanna hear you beg for it first, toots~"
She pulled back, stopping just to let you feel the loss of her, making you arch towards her, desperate for friction. That's when she slammed the strap back into your core,sharp and deep, tears flowing in your eyes as hold tighter to the bed sheet as the bed creaked loudly, her fingers pressing bruises into your skin.
"F-Fuck, that's it. Take it, sweets. Take all of it." Her voice wavered, but the smugness never left. She loved watching you fall apart for her.
Jinx let's out a breathy chuckle, her pace unrelenting as she leaned over you, her lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.
"Y'ever think about it?" She murmured. "Me... breeding you with cum and puttin' a baby in ya? Filling ya up real good 'til you're all swollen with me?"
Your breath hitched, a whimper past your lips turned on by the imagination of being pregnant and having jinx's babies, and jinx heard it. She felt it. And oh, she loved it.
"Ohh, you do like that, huh?" She giggled, nipping at your neck. "You want me to knock ya up, don'tcha? Wanna be my perfect little breedin' bunny, all around 'n full for me?"
Her thrusts grew rough, deeper, her nails scraping down your back as she groaned, "Fuck, sweets... If I could, I'd stuff ya full of me, make sure ya can't walk straight, 'til everyone knows who ruined ya."
You gasped, hands clutching the sheets, and jinx smirked at how easy it was to unravel you. She gripped your chin, forcing you to turn your head just enough so she could kiss you, messy and desperate.
"I love seein' you like this," she purred against, your lips. "You're mine, sweets. Ain't nobody gonna touch you but me. And if they try? Heh... well, guess I'll just have to put a baby in ya so they really get the message."
Her laughter rang in your ears as she pushed you right to the edge, her voice dripping with possessions, obsession, love.
"C'mon, be good for me, sugar... Let me see you fall apart for me again."
And oh, you did.
Jinx didn't let up. Even when your body trembled beneath her, even when you gasped for breath, she just grinned and kept going, rolling her hops slow and deep, feeling the plastic toy, watching you twitch beneath her.
"Mmm, don't tell me you're done already?" She teased, finger dragging down your spine, making you shiver. "C'mon, sweets, you can hand a little more, can't ya?"
She leaned over you, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw- each one soft, almost loving, a sharp contrast to the way she was stilling rocking into you, drawing out every little whimper, every sharp inhale.
"Told ya, I ain't stoppin' til I'm sure you get it," she murmured against your skin. "Mine. Every part of ya. Ain't no one else ever gonna touch you like this."
Her grip tightened on your hips, her movements growing rougher as you felt the silicone of the strap, like she was trying to mark you from the inside out.
"Fuck, sweets, I wish I could fill you up for real. Watch you get round with me, all full 'n perfect."
Her words shiver down your spine, heat pooling deep in your core, and jinx felt it l because she laughed, breathy and smug.
"Ohh, you really like that, huh?" She cooed, pressing a hand to your stomach, fingers splaying out possessively. "Can practically feel ya squeezin' me everytime I talk about knockin' ya up. You're so easy, sweets. So fuckin' cute."
She pulled back just enough to slap your ass, the sharp sting making you yelp out in pain and pleasure, and she giggled, absolutely delighted.
"I could do this all night, sugar. Keep ya right here, nice 'n needy, fuck you 'til you're cryin' for me."
And with the way she was moving, the way she was whispering filthy things into your ear, you knew she meant it.
Jinx had no intention of stoppin until she'd wrung every last bit of pleasure from you- until you were shaking and gasping and utterly wrecked.
And honestly? You didn't want her to.
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(Based on the jinx idea post I posted a few days ago, instead of her fucking you on the couch I changed it into the bed, instead.
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yois2aki · 3 days ago
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wc. 0.7k
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the moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room as caleb slept beside you, his arm draped over your waist. his steady breathing was the only sound, a rhythmic comfort that made you feel safe. but deep within the recesses of his mind, caleb was far from peaceful. the nightmare came in flashes, images of you in danger, of him failing to protect you. it started with a distant voice, one he didn’t recognize, calling out your name—sharp and desperate.
“no!” he gasped, jolting awake, his heart pounding in his chest.
his eyes darted around the room, wide and frantic, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he thought he saw shadows creeping along the walls. his body was tense, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tried to ground himself in reality. the room was still, silent, save for the soft sound of your breathing beside him.
he turned to you, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. you stirred in your sleep, unaware of the storm raging inside him. but the panic didn’t fade, it only grew. the images were still vivid in his mind—your body crumpling to the ground, his hands reaching out but failing to catch you, unable to protect you from whatever danger had come for you. the thought of losing you, of not being able to keep you safe, twisted something deep within him.
without thinking, he shot up from the bed, his breath shallow as he stood by the side of the bed, looking over you like a soldier on guard. he scanned the room, the familiar comfort of it now suddenly foreign and threatening. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, his protective instincts kicking in like a switch. you were safe now, but what if something happened? what if it happened again?
you shifted in your sleep, and caleb froze, heart racing as you murmured his name. he rushed back to the bed, kneeling beside it, his hand hovering over you like he was afraid to touch you too roughly. “hey,” he whispered, his voice thick with anxiety. “baby, wake up.”
you groggily opened your eyes, disoriented, the soft warmth of sleep still clouding your mind. “caleb?” your voice was hoarse, but your confusion only added to his growing unease.
“i couldn’t protect you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice breaking as the nightmare’s grip tightened. “i couldn’t keep you safe…”
your brow furrowed, still caught between the real world and the dream world. “caleb, what are you talking about?” you reached out, touching his arm gently. “what’s going on?”
he was trembling now, and his hand, which had been hovering over you just moments ago, now gripped the edge of the bed as if holding on for dear life. his eyes were wide, filled with terror, and you could see the raw vulnerability behind them, the same vulnerability that he only allowed himself to show in your presence.
“you were—” he stopped, taking a shaky breath, trying to calm himself but finding it impossible. “you were in danger. i couldn’t get to you in time. i… i failed.” his voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to erase the haunting images from his mind. “i couldn’t protect you.”
you sat up slowly, now fully awake, your heart aching at the sight of the usually calm and composed caleb so unravelled. you placed both hands on his cheeks, gently guiding him to look at you. “caleb,” you said softly, your voice steady, “you haven’t failed me. you’re here. you’re always here, and i’m safe with you.”
but he shook his head, the self-doubt crawling into his thoughts. “what if something happens when i’m not around? what if i can’t protect you when you need me the most?” his grip on your hand tightened. “i can’t lose you. i can’t…”
you could feel his fear, his overwhelming need to keep you safe, and you cupped his face, grounding him with your touch. “caleb, listen to me,” you said, the conviction in your voice helping to pull him back from the edge of his panic. “you are my protector, but you can’t control everything. you can’t be everywhere at once. i know you’d do anything to keep me safe, but i need you to know that i’m not going anywhere. i trust you, and i trust us. okay?”
his breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. but all he found was love and reassurance. he swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “i can’t lose you,” he repeated, his voice a mere whisper.
“you won’t,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him gently, your lips soft against his. “you’re not going to lose me. i’m right here.”
caleb finally relaxed, his breathing slowing as he pulled you into his arms. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i just… i can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”
“i know, caleb,” you whispered back, your head resting against his chest. “i know.”
and there, wrapped in each other’s arms, caleb finally allowed himself to believe that you were safe, even if only for the moment. the fear was still there, lingering in the back of his mind, but with you beside him, he would fight to keep you safe for as long as he could.
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lessi-lover · 1 day ago
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just let go II p.bueckers x a.fudd x reader
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just let go II p.bueckers x a.fudd x reader 1.9k
you were exhausted. no, scratch that you beyond exhausted. your body ached from head to toe, your muscles stiff and sore from the sheer amount of work you'd put them through this week. every step you took felt heavier than the last, your limbs moving slowly, your thoughts even slower. it was the kind of tired that crept into your skin and kept clawing at your insides.
there was a lot of good things that came with being a college athlete, but there also came a time where you wish you were anything but. however being on a completely different path to both your girlfriends was more challenging than you had anticipated.
you were all constantly on opposite schedules, and although people agreed that the opportunities you got to travel across the country were amazing, always being apart from them was difficult, especially when they had each other.
they were able to be in the comfort of each other all day, they had their routines, their games, their trainings. and you? you had your nightly factimes with the pair, that's if you were lucky to have a free moment at the same time of course.
normally, this kind of distance didn't really bother you that much. you were quite an independent person and always had been, you never really liked to rely on other people because you knew you could only really put trust in yourself. in general you would get to see paige and azzi at least twice a fortnight, but it had been weeks since you'd last seen them because the last five of your games had been away fixtures.
your busy week deprived you of being able to talk to them, so you learnt how to deal with the distance. but almost over a month of no contact was wearing you homesick, and you couldn't stop thinking about them as much as it killed you. on average, volleyball handed you at least two matches a week, and when you weren't playing or training, you were studying, desperately trying to catch up on content you had missed because of it.
you knew paige and azzi had been trying to reach you. texts, calls, voice messages, every one sitting unanswered by you. you weren’t ignoring them out of anger, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to them. quite the opposite.
but every time their names flashed across your screen, the knife in your chest twisted further. seeing them together on facetime, their interviews coming up on your socials, knowing they had each other while you felt miles away, it hurt. it was easier to pretend you were just too busy to talk than to admit how much you missed them.
but of course, they knew you better than that.
your teammates had casually started dropping hints, as if they had been told you weren't reaching out. “paige texted me earlier,” one of them had said to you after practice. “azzi, too. they were asking if you’re doing okay.” you brushed your teammate off, claiming you were fine, just caught up and you would make sure to call them later.
but their concern didn’t stop there. your captain had pulled you aside after a game, you'd thought she wanted to celebrate the win but it was far from that. “they’re worried about you, you know. you should call them.”
you knew she was right.
as much as you tried to handle everything on your own, holding everything together by a loose thread and as much as you wanted to believe you could just push through the loneliness, you couldn’t keep going like this. the exhaustion wasn’t just physical anymore; it was in your head and was plaguing you like death.
you needed them. you needed the way paige would roll her eyes at your stubborn way of taking care of yourself before pulling you into a hug anyway. you needed the way azzi could make you laugh even when you felt like crying. you needed them and they can't be there for you.
it was like when you bite the inside of your cheek and at first it stings, but then you do it again and again until it just goes numb. that was your head right now, completely numb to any feeling your body tried to communicate. you knew ignoring them and yourself wasn’t fixing anything, but seeing how close they were while you were off doing your own thing, was worse. so you kept pushing them away, trying to convince yourself it was easier like this.
you managed to make it to the door of their dorm, grateful that you hadn't collapsed on the way up the elevator. the only thing that was keeping you going was knowing that you couldn't let them be worried about you anymore. the guilt was eating you alive and the messages you'd ignored over the month sat at the pit of your stomach, mercilessly punching you without fail.
and of course, paige and azzi knew immediately.
"baby, you look like you’re about to collapse." paige muttered as soon as you stepped into their apartment. she was already reaching for you, her fingers brushing over your wrist, then wrapping around it as if you'd slip away if she wasn't fast enough. you allowed the blonde to move you into her dorm, eyes staring blankly as she called out for azzi.
before you could even think of saying anything, azzi was by your side, her hands finding your waist to steady you. you hadn't seen either of them in weeks and the empty look in their eyes was enough to make you want to cry.
"baby! where have you been?" you felt your throat close up at how concerned the brunette looked, you hadn't realised the extent of their worries but it all washed over you as they waited patiently for you to answer. "you should've told us you were this bad." azzi said, trying to guide your frozen body to the couch as your feet dug into the ground in defiance.
"didn't wanna-" you yawned mid-sentence, your body swaying slightly in exhaustion as you held strong in attempting to stop them from moving you around. paige clicked her tongue disapprovingly at you. "yeah, yeah, didn't wanna bother us. sound familiar, az?"
"mhm," azzi hummed, nodding as she glanced back at paige. "she forgets we know her too well." before you could even attempt to argue with them, paige’s grip tightened on your wrist. then without hesitation, she bent down slightly and lifted you into her arms.
"paige." you mumbled weakly, but even you couldn’t bring yourself to fight it. your body went limp almost immediately, too tired to do anything else but let your body surrender to her touch. "nah," paige cut you off. "you’re done mama. i got you." and she did. she always did.
paige's skin against yours only sparked tears, they came unexpectedly, but they weren't born from pain. you felt every part in your body just broke, the explosion in your chest an overwhelming waterfall of emotion that just dropped out of you.
"oh love. you're okay, we've got you. stop fighting us."
azzi's words seemed to wrap around you like a blanket, her arms tightening around your body, as paige settled you down on the couch. the blonde swiped her fingers over you face, wiping away the fragments of you tears and brushing away the hair that had stuck to your face.
you pulled your head away from paige's hand, starting a with frightened look at the two of them.
her arms were secure around you, one wrapped under your knees, the other supporting your back. azzi's grip was effortless, as if her hands dug into your body like a second skin and you welcomed the comfort she offered you. she followed closely, her hand resting against your shoulder as she tried to calm you down.
"you should’ve texted us," paige murmured, her voice full of concern but trying to downplay the anger she had obviously been feeling. "we would’ve come and picked you up."
"s too much," you mumbled, your head falling against paige’s chest. "what’s too much, baby?" the blonde asked, adjusting her hold on you slightly so your back was positioned against her. you exhaled sharply, your fingers weakly gripping the fabric of azzi's shorts. "everything. my head’s too loud."
paige and azzi exchanged a look over your head. you liked the feeling that they were silently talking over you, they were taking your control and that was all you wanted them to do right now. you'd been in a washing machine for the past week, your thoughts just mixing with your feelings until you couldn't differentiate any longer. you needed them to take this from you because you didn't want it anymore. it was too much of a responsibility that you couldn't handle right now, paige and azzi would calm the storm you didn't doubt that.
"relax," azzi asked you, her fingers pressing gently into the knots in your muscles. "you don’t have to do anything right now. just let us take care of you." paige hummed in agreement with the brunette, her hand running through your hair in slow, soothing motions. "we’re in charge, okay? just let go." you felt your eyes flutter shut and your thoughts slip away.
it took you a second to process their words, but when you did, something inside of you unraveled. your body that had been locked up tight with stress, finally sagged against your girlfriends. your brows unlocked, your fingers unclenched, your arms hung limply at your sides, you let your back sink further into paige.
you were too tired to move, but you didn’t need to. they had you. "good girl," paige praised, pressing a kiss to your temple. "that’s it mama. just breathe for us."
a small hum escaped your lips. your head was still loud like before, still chaotic, but their voices cut through the pain, they were the certainty you had been craving.
azzi let her fingers move lower, kneading at your upper back now, working out the thick tension with slow movements that let you drift away. "you’re so tense, babe." she mumbled, more to herself than anything. "no wonder you feel like crap."
"i don’t feel like crap," you smiled sleepily, though it was an obvious lie that anyone could see through. paige chuckled, shifting slightly so she could wrap her arms tighter around you. "baby, you can barely keep your eyes open. just let go, okay?"
you didn’t answer, but you didn’t fight them either. it felt good being taken care of like this. it wasn’t often that you let yourself be vulnerable, but you always felt safe around paige and azzi. paige pressed another kiss to your hair, then let her lips linger against your temple. "you’re safe, baby. just rest for us."
"there you go," she murmured. "just breathe." azzi’s touch became lighter now, more of a gentle swipe of her fingers against your skin than anything else. "how’s your head?" she asked softly. it was a loaded question. your head was still loud, still a mess of the frustration and overstimulation that had been bubbling inside you, but it was quieter than before. you didn't feel the need to be above it.
"better," you admitted, your voice barely audible.
"good. that’s all we want."
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wendichester · 2 days ago
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I would like to request a story/one-shot of Dean. Please, my idea is to have the reader come back from trying to have a normal life after 2 years but being saved by Dean from the reader's abusive ex-boyfriend, who was possessed by a demon. The reader calls him from a motel after being attacked and almost killed. The reader would be the same age as Dean. I love angst, fluff, smut, action. I can't wait to read it.
ִֶָ་༘࿐ back to you,
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summary. you left hunting behind for a normal life, but normal almost killed you. and when you call dean for help, he comes without hesitation.
pairing. dean winchester x reader
wordcount. 739
warnings. abuse, violence, blood, angsty and slightly smutty ; mdni!
notes. hope i managed to do your idea justice! thank you for the request hun 🩷
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You don’t know why you dial his number.
Maybe it’s instinct—something buried deep, something you thought you let go of years ago.
Or maybe it’s because you know, without a doubt, that if you call, he’ll come.
The motel room is dimly lit, the air thick with copper and fear. Your hands shake as you press the ice pack to your ribs, wincing at the deep bruising beneath your shirt. The bedspread is stained with your blood—your ex’s blood, too, but it’s black, inky, curling in places it shouldn’t.
You knew something was wrong when he changed. When the apologies stopped coming, when the anger started twisting into something unnatural, something cruel. But you kept telling yourself this was what you wanted—a normal life. Stability. Something different than hunting.
Now, you’re paying the price.
The phone rings once. Twice.
Then—"Y/N?"
You almost sob at the sound of his voice. "Dean."
His tone sharpens immediately. "Where are you?"
You swallow hard. "Pinewood Motel, off Highway 6. Room 14."
"Are you hurt?"
"Yeah," you whisper, voice shaking. "I—he—" Your throat closes, bile rising at the memory of hands wrapped around your neck, snarled threats spilling from a mouth that wasn’t his.
Dean doesn’t need you to say it. "Stay put. I’m coming."
Then the line goes dead.
You barely register the roar of the Impala pulling in. By the time the knock comes—loud, insistent—you’re already up, crossing the room.
When you open the door, Dean is standing there, eyes wild, breath heavy like he broke every speed limit to get to you. He takes one look at you—swollen lip, bruised cheek, the dark stains on your shirt—and his jaw clenches, something lethal flashing in his eyes.
"Son of a bitch," he breathes, stepping inside.
You don’t realize you’re shaking until he reaches for you, fingers brushing over your arms, your shoulders, his touch careful, reverent. "Did he—?"
"He’s dead," you say quietly. "It wasn’t just him, Dean. He was possessed."
Dean’s grip tightens. His eyes flicker over you again, checking, cataloging. "You sure it’s over?"
You nod, but your voice wavers. "I think so."
Dean exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before pulling you into his chest. It’s automatic—the way you fit against him, the way his arms wrap around you like he can hold you together.
"Jesus, sweetheart," he mutters. "What the hell were you thinking?"
You let out a choked laugh. "That I could have a normal life."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, fingers tilting your chin up. "And how’d that work out?"
"Really fucking bad."
His lips press together, something softer, sadder settling in his gaze. "You should’ve never left."
The weight of those words settle deep in your chest, guilt threading through your ribs. "I thought I wanted to."
Dean’s thumb brushes over your cheek, barely ghosting over the bruise there. His voice lowers, rough, but there’s something unbearably tender beneath it. "And now?"
You look up at him, at the concern carved into his face, the way his hands still tremble slightly where they hold you.
"I don’t want normal," you whisper. "I want you."
Something breaks in him at that. He breathes out your name like a prayer before his mouth crashes into yours.
It’s desperate, consuming. His fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand slipping under your shirt, tracing over bruises like he can erase them. Your hands pull at his jacket, needing him closer, needing him to ground you.
When he backs you against the bed, you go easily, gasping as he lowers you down. His lips never leave yours, not as his hands work your clothes off, not as he presses kisses down your neck, over your shoulder, mapping every place that hurts with his mouth.
"Mine," he murmurs against your skin, voice hoarse, possessive. "No one gets to touch you like this. No one but me."
And you don’t want anyone else.
The night is slow, filled with whispered apologies, soft moans, the warmth of him sinking deep into your bones. He doesn’t let go of you—not once. Even after, when the adrenaline fades and exhaustion crashes over you, he holds you tight, fingers laced with yours, his lips pressed to your temple.
"You’re coming back with me," he murmurs. "Not gonna let you go again. Nothing bad's ever gonna happen to you again."
You sigh, sinking into him, into home.
"Not going anywhere."
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want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098
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bewaryofpity · 3 days ago
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prompt 11 smut w/ nico hischier pleaseee🙏
thank you for requesting ! 🤍
11. “Let me come in you, please. I want to fill you up.”
.
Nico liked control, not in an obsessive way, but he was a simple man who enjoyed having a routine and being prepared for any occasion. When he met you, however, he forgot about all of this, he easily crumbled under your touch. 
He wasn’t the kind of man to get involved in a situationship, there was no stability in that, though you were always on speed dial when he would call you for a quick fuck, it lacked the security and the control he so much needed.
But he was a hypocrite because now you were on top of him, tits moving in front of his face with the rhythm of your hips rolling over his cock, your cunt teasing him and spreading your juices all over. His red tip bumped your clit, pre cum leaking ever more. Raising your hips just enough to guide you on his cock, he let out a shuddered breath when you finally sinked down with your hips flushed to his.
“I’m so full, Nico.” You moaned, hands coming to rest on his abs for leverage. Your warm walls hugged him tight, and he couldn’t contain himself. His thumb reached to slowly circle your clit, earning a gasp from you as your hole squeezed around his thick cock. And he was just as stunned, barely trying to think of something else in order to not come so fast, but the way he was hitting your cervix, your moans so sweet, your mouth agape in pleasure, your delicate hands on his skin, almost got him breaking your number one rule – no coming inside. Almost.
Before he could stop himself, his mouth spoke for him, “let me come in you, please. I want to fill you up.”
Shocked by his words you halt your movements for a second, his plea sent a hot wave all over your body, your thighs instinctively closing around him at the thought of his hot cum spilling inside of you. And the way he’s biting his lip, clenching his abs, and gripping at your hips begging for you to move made all reason leave your mind. 
So your lips quirked into a small smirk, his brows knitting together at your expression. You ground your hips down in a circle and he raised his hips up to meet yours, to take in every inch of you around him. His lips parted slightly, fingers curling harshly into your hips, panting. He was whining, he was desperate to let go inside of you. You leaned down, chest pressing into his, still grinding back and forth on his length. You kissed his stubbled jaw first, then the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips. He groaned into your mouth, grip tightening on the curve of your thighs. 
“Let go for me.” You let out sweetly. Sitting back upright, your hands came to rest against his taut stomach as you fucked yourself onto him. “Go on, fill me up.”
Nico whimpered softly, digging his heels into the mattress, as you felt warmth spilling inside your walls.
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trinnityn · 2 days ago
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Caitlyn Kiramman HCS
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Warnings: SFW + NSFW 18+ content below. View with discretion. possesive!cait, she fucks you with a gun at some point, Reader and cait are married, shower sex
A/N : lowk short cause i was lazy but i wanted to post this 💙 please dont flop.
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SFW
LOVES waking up next to you, and she's definitely a huge morning person cause of that sole reason. yes, she hates work and all the stress that comes with it but getting to wake up to her wife after an amazing night of sleep? thats reward enough for her. probably the only thing she thinks about whenever shes on her way home the only thing she dislikes about your mornings together is whenever she leans in for a kiss and you whine about how you just woke up and think you're too messy, cause. so what? she sees nothing but perfection, even in your worst.
"goodmorning, darling."
"cait i just woke up im all gross-"
"you mean to say you're absolutely exquisite, and yes cait i want a kiss."
"dont ever speak ill of yourself, love."
Speaking of so, she always has something to give to you whenever she got home from a long day at work. it doesnt matter how tired she is. you were mentioning a craving of yours at the morning? immediately getting it after work. hell she'll even go as far as buying flowers or something even more expensive than just food. she just loves spoiling you.
has a habit of grabbing or squeezing your waist tighter whenever she sees someone even glancing at you longer than 10 seconds. she grew up spoiled and basically getting everything that she wanted, in result, she becomes very possesive of the things she has. including you, her dearest, most precious asset.
"cait.. stop squeezing so much. im not going anywhere."
"he was gawking at you, like you're some object."
would beg you for a massage daily or just to play with her hair. would sometimes over exaggerate how tiring her day at work was just to get extra effection from you.
gets SUPER whiny for some reason whenever you dont have your ring on. its like, everyone has to know she has a gorgeous wife, right? thats her wife. always uses the reason that "it compliments your pretty hands.", always kisses every individual finger before sliding the ring back on. she likes to think shes proposing to you again.
"will you marry me?, my lovely wife?"
NSFW
loves tying you up and taking full control. something about it makes the heat pool up in her stomach, and to think that she has power over you makes everything all the better. when shes desperate enough, her handiwork doesnt have to be perfect as long as you're restrained, but when she takes her time? trust it'll be hell. being fully undressed as she works to tie different ropes all across your body, your wet, sopping cunt grinding against the rope between your legs as you squirm for the slightest bit of friction. she'll make sure to punish you for that, though.
VERY dexterous with her hands, better than her strap by a slight difference. has basically fingered you everywhere in the kiramman house. bedroom? had you on her lap as she basically probed and bruised your cervix before having to leave for work. kitchen? bent over and begging for it as she just slipped them in and out of you. bathroom? held you against your back with the shower running, the cold water washing over the couple as she parted your folds, taking her sweet time.
Got jealous of some other girl clearly trying to get in your pants while she turned away for a few minutes at a social event she took you to. even in a prestigious, sophisticated soiree filled with distinguished leaders, politicians she still couldnt hold back her greed. her greed for you, and how much she despises even the sight of you near another person that isnt her. she threw you right on the bed before having your skirt bunched up on your waist and getting your brain fucked dumb with her 8 inch royal blue strap. rubbing your clit in small, tight circles before pushing your panties aside when you were wet enough to plunge straight in your wet heat, taking a moment to adjust before setting a harsh, and punishing pace.
fucked you with a gun once at her desk. sprawled out and shivering at the cold air as she eased the pistol's barrel in and out of your pulsing cunt, your wrists grasped in a tight, almost brusing hold as she held them above your head, whispering into your ear breathlessly keep you on edge.
"good girl, taking my gun well.. what if i just.. pull the trigger? no? then take it and stop squirming, darling."
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A/N: thinking of making a fic out of that last one OHHHHH lord. i already have a draft saved LOL
-XOXO, trinnifer💋
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soldiersgirl · 2 days ago
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— 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲/𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 .ᐟ
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summary — the people's princess and the people's prince, that's what you were promised. the reality? he was the best worst thing to happen to you, yet.
cw — supe!fem!reader x soldier boy. payback era. 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it), spit kink, teasing, corruption kink (kinda), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, name calling (slut, whore, princess, baby, sweetheart, angel), degradation, cursing, edging, riding, drugs, drinking, mentions of manipulation blackmail, mean & soft ben.
word count — 3,844 words
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you were laying there, in the haze of the moment, trying to remember a time before him, before all the chaos and turmoil. life had been calm, somewhat boring, but tolerable before being head-hunted by vought. life in a rural, suburban town had its perks; you knew everyone and everyone trusted you despite your... curse, as you called it; "powers" by everyone else.
they weren't super powers, they weren't a gift. it was a curse set upon you; the responsibility too big to bear for only a little girl when they first showed up. the mind reading and mind control. touching your mum's hand in comfort and seeing her whole life flash before your eyes; her thoughts, her wants, her sins. the same with your father.
you hadn't, willingly, let anyone touch you for 20 years, not up until you were thrusted into the spotlight and ben's experienced hands.
he had crushed the bennies with the bottom of his hunting knife on the edge of his bedside table before lining up the fine powder over the valley of your bare breasts. he couldn't coerce you into taking them with him like he wanted, so he had to resort to taking them off you instead. you lay with bated breath as he chuckles to himself before snorting the drug, his nose dragging over your full breasts; his hands cupping them softly to make sure you keep still. unlike last time, when you fucking spilled the powder all over and he had to lick it off of you like a dog, lapping at his water-bowl. you can't help but admire his hardened features as he pinches his nose and rests his head on your breast, feeling the full effect of the drugs.
the freckles that dance over his nose, his moss green eyes and the gentle wrinkles surrounding them, his plush rose lips, that both spit venom and whisper honeyed words.
for as long as you can remember, no one touched your bare skin unless it was arranged and paid for, by your parents. while you were still young and impressionable, they talked you into "using your powers for good". people paid you, or rather your parents, to make you control them, "help" them. help addicts drop their addiction, no matter what it may be. help people work harder, better to get that promotion. help politicians get votes, get laws passed. help people fall in and out of love. no matter what it was, it had a price and many were desperate enough to pay it. it was a vicious, endless cycle but you were seen as a selfless saviour to those in need.
which is exactly why vought wanted you, needed you. some recent controversies and mild scandals had landed payback in hot water with the board members and pr team. allegations of drug use, violent bar fights, bribing, sex. you name it and the members of payback had probably done it. and here you came in, to save their name and reputation.
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the crowd cheered as you stumbled onto the stage, the board members sitting front row looking pleased with themselves and payback sneering behind you, their eyes silently warning you; threatening. your hair had been curled and styled to perfection and you had been forced into a, somewhat, modest lilac suit that hugged each curve deliciously; if you asked soldier boy. along with matching gloves to keep you from accidentally reading someone's mind.
it was a fear that you carried with you at all times. with just a brush or graze of your hands against theirs; all their deep, dark secrets spilled and exposed. no matter what or how much you saw, you kept it all tightly locked up and pushed deep down so that it would never spill over the surface. you could barely live with yourself anyway, but it wasn't your place to ruin others lives in return.
"mystara!" the host announced as he slipped his arms around your shoulder and shook you as you forced a smile. "small town girl coming to big town new york! us, at vought, are delighted to announce that she'll be joining your favourite team, paybaaaack!" he pointed back at the vexed members who all plastered on fake smiles, similar to yours. they all waved ceremoniously, arrogantly to the crowd. soldier boy swaggered forward, pushed the host back to replace his arm around your shoulder and grabbed the mic from the host with a smirk.
"we are more than thrilled to have such a beautiful addition to our team. especially as she is my new girlfriend!" he said through gritted teeth. vought had worked hard to ensure that the marketing was in place. pairing you and soldier boy would only increase numbers. the soft-spoken mind-reader with the brutish, rough killer? it was almost too good and too easy. "we can't wait to work with her and make her a valued member of the team. ain't that right, sweetheart?" he turned and your eyes finally met. you could barely manage to keep the eye contact, his eyes demanding your attention as he held the microphone to your quivering lips. all you could hear was crimson countess scoffing behind the pair of you.
"thank you, s-soldier boy. i am so pleased to be here, so excited for this opportunity. i owe this to my parents, stan edgar and most importantly you, b-babe." you stuttered through your PR approved speech. soldier boy planted an unexpected kiss on your cheek before hissing in your ear.
"if you ever use any of your fuckin' tricks on me, i'll destroy your fuckin' pathetic, little life. you got that, sweetheart?" all you could do was stand frozen and just nod. "atta girl." he laughs and gives your ass a small pat.
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"if only they could see you now, baby, hmm?" ben sighs as he pepper kisses across your breasts, his tongue poking out and flicking at your hardened nipple, chuckling as you squirm. "not so sweet and innocent as you would have them all believe." he hums as he sucks at one nipple and pinches the other, whilst whimpers fall past your bitten lips. "who knew you could be such a whore? such a sweet, obedient whore for me..." he groans as he leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses down your heaving chest and tensed stomach.
"you're so mean." you huff in protest, arching your back to feel his lips better against your supple skin.
"shut the fuck up, you love it." he scoffs, swiping his fingers through your folds and admiring the slick that adorns his fingers. "look how fucking wet you are and i've barely even touched you." his eyes sparkle as he brings his fingers to your mouth, inviting you to taste. your defiance isn't appreciated and he roughly grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open and stuffing his fingers against the pad of your tongue. "fuuuck, sweetheart." his voice filled with adoration as you wildly suck and run your tongue over his fingers.
he knew he destroyed everything he touched, but he just couldn't keep his hands off of you. since he first saw you, he just knew that you were the one for him. underneath your innocent eyes and soft-spoken nature, you were hungry for acceptance; for someone to love you for you and not fear you. a feeling he mirrored and knew all too well.
he pulled back his hand, a string of saliva connecting his digits to your panting mouth. he slightly slaps your clit with his spit-covered fingers, messily running them back and forth over your most sensitive spot, relishing in your pleading.
"ben, ben- please, oh fuck-" you beg, as your hands pull and tug on the cotton sheets beneath you. it only ignites ben's excitement as he roughly spits on your pussy before dragging up pointed tongue up through your folds and settling on your tortured clit. he hungrily devours you as he wraps his toned arms around your thighs and tries, but fails, to keep you still as you feverishly buck your hips against his gifted tongue.
"god, you're so fuckin' needy, aren't you? always fuckin' beggin' and pleading for me." he mumbles against your folds, his tongue still working to pull the first orgasm out of you. "you're just my lil needy princess, aren't you? does my princess want to cum on soldier boy's tongue?" you can only squeeze your eyes shut and nod as your senses are overwhelmed. "look at me." another slap against your pussy. "look. at. me." ben demands. his eyes could burn a whole through yours with the intensity of his gaze as you start to lose control and cum all over his tongue. he loosens his grip on you and let you grind your pussy against his tongue, as he smirks and savours your taste coating his tongue.
ben wastes no time climbing on top of you, smashing his lips onto yours and your tongues intertwining with one another. to your surprise, he pauses to rest his forehead against yours and stroke your cheek.
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it took you weeks to settle into your room and role at payback, no one took you seriously but simultaneously they feared you. dodged you when you got too close, afraid of what you would see, of what you would think of them. ironically, you didn't care enough to want to know their secrets and regrets, you could barely carry those you already had tried to forget.
but what you had forgotten is that your life wasn't yours to control. you were nothing but a puppet to the company that had threatened to "send you away" if you didn't comply.
you would pose as a secretary during vought meetings with a wig and all, shaking hands with international elected officials and relaying the information to vought management for extortion and blackmail purposes. influencing presidents, CEOs, and industry moguls to strategically invest in vought and help pass supe-positive laws to allow more human testing and production of compound v. anything to make vought more money.
however, it didn't stop there. the more power-hungry vought got, the more you were pushed around and forced to go against your morals. over the past several weeks, you had been sneaking into the payback member's individual rooms to gain intel and to make them more... complacent to voughts ideas and suggestions. but when it came to soldier boy, you flat-out refused. no matter how much you screamed and shouted at your managers, your worries were pushed aside.
that's how you found yourself sneaking into his room against your own will and better judgement. he looked so vulnerable when he slept, his brows furrowed only slightly and his hair swept beautifully across his hardened features. you're not sure how long you just stood there and just admired him, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and touch...
what you hadn't known that night, was that soldier boy was wide awake. he wasn't surprised; he knew why you were there and what vought was up to. but what surprised him was that you just left, without using your powers on him like he had expected and defying vought.
he thought about you for days until one evening, he thought it was finally time to confront you, to get some fucking answers. it was just after midnight and all the members had gone to bed after some heavy drinking and drug-taking in the payback conference room; everyone except you. you were never invited and never expected and that suited you just fine. you had witnessed how that shit could destroy lives too many times to count and you heeded the warnings. three loud knocks rapped at your door pulling you out of your thoughts. you sat your book down, instinctively pulled on your gloves, padded over barefoot and opened your door.
"s-soldier boy." you gasped. he looked down at you with a sneer, his brows in a deep frown and his soft, unstyled hair falling just in front of his analysing eyes. he simply grunted as he looked you over; no makeup, messy hair, pink pyjama set and your fuckin' gloves. he silently pushed past you and walked into your bedroom, leaving you frozen and confused at your door. you quickly closed the door and turned to the contrasting, intimidating figure in your girly bedroom. like a western stand-off, you both stood and just watched one another, waiting to see who'd break first.
"why?" he barked at you, making you flinch.
"why what, sir?" you asked carefully.
"don't give me that sir bullshit." he snorted. "do you think i'm fucking stupid, huh? why didn't you touch me that night with your freaky-ass powers? i know you're doing it to all the others, by the way. i've seen how you sneak in and out of their rooms, how they're suddenly acting different and think everythin' vought does is just revolutionary. i see you." with each sentence, he makes his way over to you right until he's towering over you. you feel like a wounded animal at the end of a hunter's gun, silently begging for freedom.
"i- i couldn't. i was afraid of what i'll see. afraid of how you would react if you worked it out. afraid of you." you quietly admit, deciding it's better to be truthful and once you started, it was hard to stop.
"but what if i wanted you to see?" he muttered in response.
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he had pushed and folded your legs tightly against your chest as he mercilessly pounded his thick cock into you, with one hand wrapped tightly around your dainty throat and the other grabbing your thigh to stabilise himself. the only sounds filling the room were your hushed begging and ben whispering the most foul words into your ear as you came undone under him.
"god, please- ben, im so close, please.." you begged endlessly and breathlessly as his grip on your throat tightens.
"always so fuckin' tight, princess. god, you're so cock-hungry, it just keeps suckin' me in. fuck." he groans as his stubble rubs against your ear. his hips snap ruthlessly against yours, your gummy walls contracting and clamping around him. "d'you wanna come, baby? gonna cum all over my cock, like the slut you are?" as your eyes roll into your head, you somehow manage to nod and let out a weak "yes, please...". his teeth nipped and tugged on your ears before travelling down and leaving sloppy kisses all down your neck before biting down on your shoulder. marking your silky skin and watching with glee as the teeth marks decorate your skin as a reminder of who you belong to.
he pealed himself away to gaze softly down at you and your completely fucked-out state. god, he was convinced that he would never grow tired of this sight, which is why he immediately stopped, leaving you high and dry. tears threaten to form and roll down your reddened cheeks as you stare at him, mouth agape and band right about to snap.
"my sweet angel, i'm not done with you yet." he hums as turns you over onto all fours and slowly starts to thrust again as he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, starting the torturous process all over again.
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he had grabbed your wrist and slipped off your glove as you fought and yelled in protest. this is the last thing you wanted. you weren't ready to face the horrors that his psyche hid. but he wanted to give you the full truth so he could pour some out and share the in the guilt you carried, together.
"stop!" you yell out. "no, fuck! don't, plea-" his fingers had intertwined with yours and everything flashed before your eyes like a bomb had gone off behind your eyes.
his abusive father, his distant mother, his trauma-filled boarding school days, injecting the compound v and the pain that followed. all the fake pr stunts; normandy beach, ww2, helping the soldiers. the drugs, the women, the drinking. killing, murders, bodies beaten to a pulp. the desperate need for approval, for acceptance, for something real. like you, his life was no longer his and he feared the worst. the last thing that appeared in front of your eyes was as clear as day: his dirty, unfiltered thoughts of you.
you wrenched your hand from his grip and staggered back, your mind a whirlwind.
"don't ever fucking do that again." your chest heaved with anger. "you don't have the fucking right to do that! no matter who you are!" you snatched back your glove and put it on.
"did you see it all?" he asked calmly. not what you expected.
"i saw everything." you nod.
"... and?"
suddenly, the towering figure in front of you had transformed into the young boy who yearned for love and understanding. he had never wanted to be feared but it was wired into his new dna and he couldn't shake it no matter how much he wanted to. you couldn't help but soften up and almost... pity him.
"and i see you." you repeat his earlier words back to him. he lets out a loud sigh and runs a hand over his rugged face. "i- i had no idea. about everything. i'm sorry." ben scoffs in response.
"i don't need your fucking sympathy. i just needed you to know that..." he hesitated. "i understand and i'm not afraid of you. you shouldn't be afraid of me. i don't want you to be." he edges closer to you, grabbing the tips of your gloves and slowly sliding them off, his eyes never leaving yours. he held your hands in his as if they were porcelain, bringing one up and kissing one of your fingertips to show the depth of his words. "our hands are weapons used against our will. but together, you and me, we can resurrect something beautiful."
"ben." you gasp, all of this unexpected.
"you know i want this. my dirty thoughts of you, they were never mine to keep." he sighed before leaning down, ever so slightly, and brushing his lips against yours. you grab the back of his neck and bring his lips to yours in a heated clash of tongues and teeth. you knew he was going to wreck you, but you wanted nothing more than to give in and seek comfort in your american psycho.
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that's how you ended up here; riding ben like your life depended on it. your tight walls hugging bens cock like your pussy was made for him and his hands fitting perfectly on your hips as he guided you. he swallowed your loud moans as your lips tangled together and your tongues intertwined. his hips bucking up to match your frenzied tempo as you lost yourself in the sensation of being completely filled by him. he threads his finger through your hair and tugs on it, yanking your head back, making you yelp and hiss in pain.
"i love the way you hurt me." you rasp out in between rough thrusts and playful bites across your chest; the harsh purple bruises a contrast to your delicate nature. ben grins against your neck as he reaches around and slaps your ass with a groan.
"god, i have really fucked you up, haven't i? my baby, so fuckin' dirty." he chuckles as he leans back and folds his arms behind his head to watch the show you're putting on for him. "show me how much you fuckin' need me and i might let you come on my cock." you claw at his chest with your lilac nails, that match your supe-suit, as you grind down onto him with full force. the sweat cascading down your back and slick covering ben's thick thighs.
that was a pro and con of being supes; you could fuck for hours, but you could also get fucked for hours without room for a breather. you were sure that ben had fucked you stupid after edging you on for what felt like hours as he rides his bennie-filled high and gets to see how you fall apart under him.
"you know that only good sluts get to come on my cock, don't you?" he laughs as you notice your pace slacking, your body soon couldn't take anymore. he forcefully grabs your jaw; his pupils completely blown leaving only a ring of bright green around them. he taps your lips and you open them with a second thought, something that he programmed into you. he spits into your mouth and watches adoringly as you roll it around in your mouth before swallowing it and resuming your previous frenzied pace. his rough hands grab your hips, squeezing your supple skin as he fucks his cock deeper into you. within seconds, you're finally coming all over him as you curse and pant his name like a prayer.
"fuck- nggh, oh my fucking god, ben.. ben, ben!" you shout as he comes with you; the feeling of being filled with him was like no other. he lazily thrusts into you whilst carefully laying you on your back and adorning your face with soft kisses and whispered "good girl"'s. you share one final, deep kiss; filled with unsaid emotions and promises to one another before he lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up.
two misplaced puzzle pieces, finally belonging and forming a picture no one else could see.
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you weren't sure who affected who more. you had been introduced to the world of desire and sin by ben; he was your first everything and he revelled in that fact. knowing no one had heard or seen you the way he does, fuck. it was like a whole new drug and it's potency was almost deadly. you had gotten more calculated, with his encouragement, and were using your powers for your own good and not just at the behest of whoever held your leash. you confronted your parents and had cut off the contact, although the damage was done. you were still the people's soft princess to the adoring crowds, but you had evolved into something more sinister; more selfish. and nothing could get in your way now.
in comparison, ben had gotten calmer. he didn't throw himself into women, drinking and drugs like before, only occasionally dabbling in taking a hit or two of whatever he had lying around. men like him is what love destroys and his harsh outer layer was slowly eroding. his vicious appetite for destruction and violence needed less feeding and attention. his sole purpose was to protect you and ensure that you both would never be denied the happiness he knew you deserved. he considered what was better; to be feared or to be loved. but he had come to the conclusion that "one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, it is much safer to be feared than loved."
thanks to you, he had both.
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a/n: WELL. i hope you like this one too guys; it was so much fun to write and rather self-indulgent. i'm considering ACTUALLY make this fic a series, i love their dynamic. this was based on another favourite song of mine that immediately makes me think of the loml, ben, when i hear it <3 long live fall out boy
-`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace (comment or inbox me to be added)
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my-castles-crumbling · 1 day ago
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sparks - february 12 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 496
Regulus Black hated James Potter.
Or at least….that’s what he kept telling himself. Because that was a lot less confusing than being in love with him.
But of course, it was very difficult to keep telling himself that when James kept showing up and being so…James.
So he reacted the way any sane person would. He ran. But of course, James was ridiculously good at finding him. He always had been.
“Why didn’t you show up last night?” James hissed at him the morning after they were supposed to meet, pulling him unceremoniously into a hidden passage. They’d been meeting a lot lately. At first it had been by accident- they both had rounds or James was sneaking around and Regulus had rounds. But then it’d become intentional. Because even as Regulus insisted he hated spending time with James, he looked forward to those nights they spent walking and talking and exploring the castle.
“Let go of me, Potter!” Regulus whisper-yelled, wrenching his elbow out of James’s grasp. “You’re so annoying! You think just because you manhandle me into a corner I’ll answer your question?” James was close. Much too close. They were barely a foot away from each other in the dark space.
“No, I think you’ll answer because I thought you weren’t a jerk, and I deserve a reason for you not showing up!” James retorted, crossing his arms. 
“Because I don’t li-” Regulus started, jaw set.
“Oh, bullshit! Don’t lie to me, Reg,” James interrupted, eyes flashing. “You can’t say that! After all the time we’ve spent together, you can’t say you don’t like me! You know there’s something here, you have to feel it, too!”
Heart beating in his throat, Regulus grimaced. “I don’t feel anything,” he lied. “Maybe consider the idea that not everyone wants you, hmm?”
James looked him up and down and something simmered in his eyes that made Regulus want to both push him and push him against the wall to snog him. After a moment, he spoke. “Prove it,” he whispered, enunciating each syllable.
Regulus’s body went cold. “Wh-what?” he asked.
“Prove it. Prove you don’t want me. Kiss me, and tell me you feel nothing,” James challenged, raising his chin a bit.
He could’ve refused. He could’ve told James to fuck off. But instead, he lurched forward, connecting their lips in the most deliciously searing kiss he’d ever experienced, shoving the older boy against the wall as he licked into his mouth, sparks flying over his entire body.
Biting over James’s lip and pressing himself close, he made sure to take as much as he could in those few seconds. But before he could get lost in it, he pulled back, panting. And for a moment, he stared into James’s wild eyes, taking in his needy, desperate expression.
Then he stepped back, body still hot, heart still fluttering. “See?” he asked, wanting to surge forward again more than anything. “Nothing.”
And he turned and walked away.
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un-fwuit-un-fwog · 9 hours ago
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Cards and Casts
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Part five of The Rain series
Synopsis: Ace and Deuce's visits to The Prefect in the infirmary after Ramshackle's collapse
TW: Aftermath of Ramshackle collapsing on The Prefect, Ace is out of it, Deuce is (more) all over the place than usual (in a trying to process things kinda way)
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (here), Part 6 (coming soon)
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The next person to come and visit you was Ace.
The moment the news had been announced, Ace was already booking it to sign up to see you. At the time, it hadn't yet been announced that the further up on the list you were, the sooner you'd get to see The Prefect; Ace was just desperate to sign his name as soon as he could. It was almost as if he thought doing so would in a way prove that he did care. That it would redeem him for not being there when you needed him. That it would make him feel less guilty.
A knock was heard from the other side of the infirmary door. You had been told that your next visitor would be ace, but Ace never knocked.
You rand the little bell next to your bed to tell whoever it was to come in (you had a bell because you couldn't yet raise your voice much).
An unfamiliar boy walked through the door. His hair was a ruffled mess, his clothes were wrinkled, and there were dark circles under his eyes. It took you a moment to realize it was actually Ace who stood before you. He looked like a mess. He didn't even have his signature red heart painted on his face.
The smile he gave you looked strained, but you didn't comment on it.
You ended up having to beckon the boy closer after he had been standing in the doorway for a good five minutes. He dropped his shoulders and basically hobbled to your bedside. He nearly toppled over as he tried to take a seat, but caught himself at the last moment.
Tick Tick Tick Tick
"I. . .I brought cards."
And so, that's how you ended up playing a few games of Rummy with him. But he was still off. He was playing like an absolute novice. He was letting you win. He NEVER lets you win.
Eventually, you had had enough, and you set down your cards with a scuffed huff. He didn't even notice!
You carefully reached up a hand and pushed his cards down onto the bed and he just let them tumble.
"Ace." Your voice was gruff, but still somehow airy.
"Oh, uh, yeah?" Ace seemed to snap out of a trance. . .well, more like slowly drift out of.
You tried to meet his eyes, but he refused to look directly at you. You thought about asking if he was okay, but the answer to that question was pretty obvious. You didn't ask him what was wrong for the same reason. Instead, you took a deep breath and held it as you painfully shifted over in the bed. You did your best not to make a noise as not to worry the already clearly upset boy.
Ignoring your screaming body, you mustered your best smile (your bandages kept it from reaching your eyes though) and gently patted the space next to you on the bed.
Ace gave you a hesitant look, but you just patted the space again to tell him it was okay. He wouldn't hurt you simply by sitting next to you.
When he finally did sit next to you, you let your head rest against his shoulder. Neither of you spoke
Tick Tick Tick Tick
When the silence was finally broken it was with a single mumbled word: "sorry."
"Hm?" you coughed.
". . .I-I'm sorry." His voice wasn't much louder, but you could hear it this time.
You slowly picked your head up and looked at him incredulously "What for?"
"I wasn't there."
"You knew Ramshackle would collapse?"
"No, I-"
"If you were there, you would have gotten hurt too."
"No! I could have helped. . .I could have-"
"No. No, you couldn't."
He went silent and his face fell before tightening slightly in the way it does only when someone is on the verge of tears.
"Nobody could have stopped it after it started. Nobody could have made it out in time either." Your voice reduced to a croak, but you continued. "You didn't know the dorm would collapse. It's not your fault-"
"Still!" His voice raised and a waver in his tone became apparent "If I was there, I-"
"Would have gotten hurt too. Then I would be too worried about you to do any healing myself." You could tell your voice wouldn't hold out much longer, so you said one more thing: "It's not your fault. You're doing all you can now by being here and being safe. Thank you."
Tears dripped steadily from the boy's face, but he didn't make a sound.
You lightly took his hand in yours, and you sat like that for hours. Together and safe.
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Deuce walked in not long after Ace left.
He walked into the room silently and took a seat next to your bed.
"How are you doing?"
You were about to grab the notebook and pencil next to your bed to write a response as your voice was shot, but she spoke up again before you got the chance.
"Wait, no! That was a dumb question!"
Before he could start further rambling, you shook your head and began to write: 'I'm doing much better. I appreciate you asking.'
Deuce sighed and began fiddling with his hands. "Does. . .does it still hurt?"
You took a moment to think about whether or not you should answer his question truthfully, but ultimately decided not to lie. 'It still hurts, but not as much."
Deuce frowned, but nodded.
'I bet I'll get some cool scars! Like battle scars. We'll match!' You scribbled out sloppily as you weren't exactly able to properly hold a pen with your hands looking like a mummy's. It was meant as an attempt to cheer him up, but he only frowned further.
"You shouldn't have scars. You're a good person."
It was you're turn to frown. 'You're a bad one?'
Before Deuce could reply, you tapped the space next to you: telling him to sit.
Similarly to Ace, he hesitated, but you eventually got him to sit next to you on the bed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off again. This time you did so by dragging his arm closest to you onto your lap and grabbing a marker off of the nightstand. You uncapped the marker and rolled up his sleeve.
Deuce was too stunned and confused to say a word as he watched you scribble little pictures on his arm. The pictures were cartoony renditions of various times he'd done kind things for you. When you were done he finally snapped out of his daze.
"Wait! I should be the one cheering you up! First I let you get hurt, and now I can't even comfort you properly! I-I can't do anything right!" Deuce's head falls into his hands and you watch as tears fall onto the sheets.
A marker slips into Deuce's hand and he looks over at you with confused, tear-filled eyes.
You point to the cast on your leg. A blank slate. 'A drawing from you on my cast would make me happy'
"But. . .I can't draw-"
You cut him off by basically shoving the notebook in his face. 'Doesn't matter. Anything you draw will remind me of you, and thinking of my friends will make me happy.'
He ends up doodling a flower and an endearingly poor depiction of him, Ace, Grim, and you together and signing his name.
For the rest of his visit, you take turns doodling different things in your notebook and adding funny little details to each other's drawings.
When Deuce finally leaves, you let out a breath you had been holding. Your face contorts in pain and a soft whimper leaves your throat.
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spiritualitygeek · 2 days ago
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PAC Reading | 2025 Prediction
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Disclaimer: This is a general reading intended for entertainment purposes only. The insights provided are not definitive predictions, as your choices and actions constantly shape your reality. This reading reflects potential outcomes based on your current energy and should not be used as the sole basis for significant decisions, including those related to health, finances, or life-changing matters. Please use your own judgment and seek professional advice when necessary. I am not responsible for any decisions made based on this reading.
Pile 1
Cards: 5oW, PoW(X) and QoW
Signs: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius
Are you lost, babygirl? Haha, I had to keep that in because it truly fits the energy of your reading.
Your year started with the energy of 5 of Wands, and oh boy, you were in the thick of it!
Scrambling, competing, proving, pushing—whether it was career, relationships, or just proving your worth to yourself, you were in that hyper-masculine "go, go, go" mode. And while that fire helped you move forward, it also drained you. There may have been conflicts, inner or outer, and a feeling of "I need to win at all costs." But did you ever pause to ask, win what exactly?
Now, we’re in the Page of Wands reversed phase. And honestly? You're tired. It’s that feeling of I used to be excited about this… so why am I not anymore? The spark feels dimmed. Maybe you're questioning your path, your motivation, your direction. Maybe you’re even a little bored or uninspired. And let me tell you, that's okay. This is your soul telling you to slow down. Instead of forcing yourself to “figure it out,” take this as a cosmic permission slip to simply be. Go on solo dates. Reconnect with hobbies that don’t have a purpose beyond joy. Let go of the need to prove yourself. Because, babygirl, you already are enough.
And then—boom! By the end of the year, you step into Queen of Wands energy.
Now we're talking!
You’re no longer chasing; you're attracting. You’ve shifted from desperate action to inspired action. From pushing to flowing. From proving to owning. Your feminine energy is activated, and with it, your confidence, magnetism, and ease. Things start aligning for you because you’re no longer in resistance. You’re radiating that main character energy, and trust me, people will notice.
The biggest lesson here? You don’t have to exhaust yourself to get what you want. Resting, believing, and taking aligned steps will get you further than forcing things ever did. You’re stepping into a version of yourself that knows their worth, stands in their power, and lets the universe meet them halfway.
So breathe, relax, and trust the process. It's already done!
Pile 2
Cards: Knight oP, QoP, 6oS
Signs: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, Aries, Libra
OMG, Pile 2! I am absolutely loving your energy—it’s so grounded, so determined. It’s giving "I’ve got a plan, and I’m sticking to it!" I’m getting strong vibes of working toward a goal that sets you free—whether that’s moving out, becoming independent, leaving a relationship that no longer serves you, or upskilling for a better job. Whatever it is, you’re in it for the long haul, and you’re not about to half-ass it.
You stepped into 2025 with Knight of Pentacles energy. This is the card of slow, steady, and disciplined work. You’re not rushing things, you’re not being reckless—you’ve got a goal, and you’re making consistent moves toward it. It might have felt tedious at times, like you’re putting in all this effort without immediate results, but the Knight doesn’t care about instant gratification. He’s in it for real, lasting success. And so are you.
Now, with your current energy as the Queen of Pentacles, I can tell you’re doing amazing, sweetie. You’ve leveled up. You’ve found your rhythm, your stability. You’re not just grinding mindlessly—you’re also nurturing yourself, balancing work with self-care, and actually enjoying the process. That’s the secret sauce! Instead of obsessing over what’s wrong or what you don’t want, you’re choosing to focus on what you do want. And let me tell you, that mindset shift? Powerful. You’re sitting on your throne, secure in yourself, radiating grace and abundance. You’re a Queen indeed.
And here’s the best part—by the end of the year, we’ve got the Six of Swords. And oh boy, this is the card of moving forward. Whatever you’ve been working toward, whatever you’ve been patiently building, you’re finally making that transition. Whether it’s literally packing your bags and leaving, cutting ties with a situation that no longer serves you, or stepping into a new career, it’s happening. The storm is behind you, and you’re sailing toward calmer waters.
My only request is, please keep this energy up. Stay patient, stay steady, and trust that all your efforts are leading you exactly where you need to be. You’re not just dreaming about change—you’re making it happen. And by the end of 2025, you’ll look back and realize just how far you’ve come.
Pile 3
Cards: Temperance, KoW, Strength
Signs: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces, Sagittarius
Pile 3, you mystical, radiant souls. If I could reach through this reading and give you the tightest, most heartfelt hug, I would. Because wow—you are something special.
You’re my sages, my old souls. You’ve been through the fire, walked through darkness, and yet here you are, not just standing but shining. There’s something so deeply healing about your energy, something that touches people without you even trying. Maybe that’s your purpose—to inspire, to uplift, to simply be a presence that makes the world feel a little less heavy.
You entered 2025 with Temperance—the card of balance, patience, and divine wisdom. This tells me you’ve already done the deep work. You’ve faced your shadows, healed wounds that once defined you, and reached a place of profound self-awareness. You’ve unlearned the limiting beliefs that held you back, shed layers of conditioning, and embraced a path of inner mastery. You don’t react impulsively anymore; you respond with wisdom. There’s a beautiful, almost ethereal peace to you—like you’ve made friends with time itself, knowing that everything unfolds exactly as it should.
And now? Now you’re stepping into the King of Wands energy. Confidence. Vision. Purpose. You’re no longer just existing; you’re leading. Maybe you don’t even realize how magnetic you are, how people naturally look up to you, seek your guidance, and feel safe in your presence. You might be highly spiritual, or maybe you’ve found a way to balance your spiritual depth with the practical world effortlessly. You’re the kind of person who walks into a room and commands attention without even trying. But the best part? You’ve recently learned to protect your energy. No more giving endlessly to energy vampires. No more overextending yourself. You’re choosing where and how you shine, and that’s a power move.
By the end of 2025, with Strength, I see you reaching a level of mastery—not just of survival, but of living. This isn’t just physical strength (though for some of you, it could be a focus on health and vitality). This is inner strength. Emotional resilience. The kind of peace that comes from knowing that nothing outside of you can shake you anymore. You’re stepping into a level of enlightenment that most people spend lifetimes chasing.
I'm sorry if I fangirled a bit too much. Tbh, I don't feel qualified enough to be doing a reading for you, Pile 3. You seem to know and understand it all already. You're so intuitive and wise. TT
Pile 4
Cards: the chariot, death(X), 2oP
Signs: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, Sagittarius, Scorpio
Pile 4, my warriors in disguise.
I feel like shaking your shoulders gently and saying, "Wake up, love! You’re so much stronger than you think!" Because you are. But right now? You might not be acting like it.
You entered 2025 with The Chariot—bold, determined, full speed ahead. At some point, you had a clear goal, a destination in mind. You were ready to take charge, to move, to break free. But somewhere along the way, something happened. Maybe fear crept in. Maybe doubt whispered in your ear. And now, with Death in Reverse, you’re resisting the very change you once craved.
Let’s be real—you know deep down that something in your life isn’t serving you anymore. It could be a job, a relationship, a mindset, a habit—something is dead weight, but you’re still carrying it. And the craziest part? It’s not even that you want it anymore. It’s that you’re more afraid of the unknown than you are of staying stuck. It’s like a type of emotional masochism—you’re comfortable in discomfort. You’re focusing more on what you don’t want than on what you do.
But here’s the thing: The universe doesn’t respond to hesitation. It responds to clarity. If you keep focusing on fear, you’ll manifest more of it. If you keep thinking about what you don’t want, you’ll keep getting exactly that. It’s time to flip the script.
By the end of the year, we have the Two of Pentacles—which tells me that, whether you like it or not, life is going to force you to juggle your choices. You can’t stay in limbo forever. You’ll either have to adapt or let go, but either way, movement is coming. So, why not take the reins now? Why not be the one who decides instead of waiting for the universe to shake things up for you?
You started this year with The Chariot—that drive, that hunger is still inside you. You just have to believe in it again. Let go. Say yes to what excites you, not what scares you. Because the only way forward is through. And trust me, you were built for this journey.
Pile 5
Cards: PoS(X), Emperor, 5oP
My dear Pile 5, I know you feel like you’re not good enough. Not smart enough. Not pretty enough. Not enough in general. And I know you look around and think, "Everyone else has it figured out. Everyone else is so sure of themselves. Why can’t I be like that?"
But let me let you in on a little secret: most people in this world have absolutely no idea what the hell they’re doing. They just act like they do. They follow the crowd, go through the motions, and convince themselves they’re wise, all-knowing, and superior. But deep down? They’re just as lost as you are. The difference is, they fake it better.
Right now, you’re in The Emperor energy, and that’s actually a good thing. It means you’re not a quitter. You refuse to let life knock you down permanently. Even when you feel lost, you keep pushing forward. You keep redirecting yourself, trying to grab onto something—anything—that gives you a sense of control. That’s the thing about The Emperor. He needs structure, stability, a plan. And when things feel shaky, he tightens his grip even harder. That’s you right now—holding on, trying to make sense of everything, trying to create order in the chaos.
But here’s the part I need you to prepare for: Five of Pentacles at the end of the year.
I see you hitting rock bottom—or at least, feeling like you are. Maybe it’s burnout. Maybe it’s rejection. Maybe it’s just that overwhelming sense of, "I’ve done everything I can, and it still wasn’t enough." You might feel abandoned, like life is leaving you out in the cold. Like all your work, all your effort, all your struggle was in vain.
But listen to me. Do not let your insecurities hold you back.
Let me tell you a little story.
A guy once flirted with me. He was sweet, charming—I started liking him. But then, like any overthinker with internet access, I went through his followers list. I saw all these girls—prettier than me, more popular than me, seemingly better than me. And suddenly, my confidence shattered. I started acting weird, second-guessing everything. And guess what? He changed too. He started pulling away. What changed? Not him. Me. My insecurities drove him away before he even had a chance to make a real choice.
That’s the danger of self-doubt. It warps reality. It makes you sabotage things before they even have a chance to bloom.
And another story—this one about my career.
I got rejected. Not once. Not twice. Multiple times. My hard work was dismissed, overlooked, shut down. I could’ve taken that as a sign to stop. To quit. To believe I wasn’t good enough. But I didn’t. I kept going. And now? I have multiple contracts under my name, multiple projects. I made more money than I ever would have from the things that rejected me.
So tell me—was it my loss? Or theirs?
Had I given up, had I let my insecurities win, I wouldn’t be where I am today. And neither will you.
Pile 5, persevere. Even when it feels pointless. Even when you’re tired. Even when you think you’re not good enough. Because the truth is—you are. You just have to believe it before the world does.
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I hope this PAC reached the people who needed to hear these messages and that they resonated with you. You're more than welcomed to write me your feedback if the readings resonate and help you in any way. I'll be more than glad to hear from you.
Also, if you’d like to stay updated on future PACs or personal readings, make sure to follow me! You can DM me for paid readings, or if you prefer, keep an eye out—I occasionally offer free personal readings as well.
Thank you!
- Love, Snow <3
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