#and i dont want to watch the chaos happen

[fatuismooches]

omg i just read the segments trivia night and though of an idea. imagine reader explains to them what truth or dare is (if they dont know already) and a segments dares the reader to kiss the hottest person in the room... what chaos that will cause...

(x) In hindsight, you probably should have expected something like this to happen eventually considering their pettiness toward each other and their childish fighting over you. You should have banned affectionate gestures from the beginning, but in truth, you wanted to see the kind of things they'd come up with, knowing them. Well, you had gotten your answer, but now you were in sort of a pickle with each segment looking at you expectantly for your answer. You had to come up with a solution quickly that satisfied everyone before you accidentally started the segments' next argument which would last for a few days.

Good thing you had a lot of experience in this area!

You got up and slowly prowled around the area, appearing to be in thought. The segments acted uninterested, tapping their fingers idly, sipping a drink... but all of them were slyly watching who you'd stop at. But then you spoke.

"I guess I just have to kiss all of you then!" You declare like you've made a significant breakthrough, quickly grabbing the first segment's chin to kiss him and then letting him go to move on. Thankfully, there were only a few segments here so it wasn't too much work to speed kiss them all. It was fulfilling for the segments, leaving them perked up and previous snide remarks forgotten because you kissed them, but also unfulfilling of course, as they clearly would never get a clear answer from you...

The aftermath, however:

"... They kissed me first. Clearly, it shows their preference to me over you lot."

"Don't be an idiot. You were simply the one they were closest to at the moment!"

Well, this is just one of the reasons why it's better to leave them to the arguing in their heads in cases like this and sneak off with Zandy instead.

[vinylfoxbooks]

I miss my eldritch cryptids. I wish to write about them but I know not what to write about.

[shadowcats4]

I headcannon Nikolai as bi.

Note: I haven't seen any fanart or fanfiction or anything

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

[skeletalheartattack]

do uyo think a monkys 🐒 and a sketin 💀 can be friends

a thought bubble appears above my head with the memory of having my picture taken with a monkey at the ripe old age of 6, and upon leaving the monkey would trip me and start dragging me by the ankle back to the photo chair, prompting the photographer to fucking book it for that monkey.

hm probably not i don't think.

[bistaxx]

k!Luzu is both the most tragic little man who gives me constant pain and grief but also a total loser who I want to bully /lovingly

[alchemiclee]

that last art comic reblog FHDHDDJSDJJDJKSKSFHSBRRRRRRR BRAIN IS GOING SO BBRRRRRRRRRRRRRTT ROGHT NOW I want to talk about it so bad and about why it's making brain go BRRRRRRRTHDHFHDDJJDJSS BUT I know no one cares and no one will want to listen. i shared it with people and no one will respond. especially not the people it reminded me of who aren't as obsessed with a past thing as I am since I can't just let go and move on from hyperfixations/special interests so easily. even if it ended bad. I got no closure and still LONG FOR IT SO MUCH IT MAKES ME SO SAD THAT ITS IMPOSSIBLE TO GET BACK AND AHHHGH

[velarisdusk]

Thawing Boundaries

Hockey AU | Azriel x Reader x Rhysand

Series Masterlist Part 1 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 3 - Melted Resolve

word count: 11.7k content: there's so much in this one i'm bound to miss a few [ explicit sexual content, PIV (protected, a shocker for me i know), rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), voyeuristic elements, dirty talk, degradation, biting/marking, choking, light slapping, public sex (locker room setting), threesome, dominance/submission, infidelity | forced proximity, emotional conflict, dub-con (but reader does want it i promise), injury mention, strong language, and (very light) emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping ] summary: After tension from a failed move at practice leads to a teammate's injury, you and Azriel unexpectedly meet in the locker room. As you share a heated moment, a surprise arrival heightens the stakes, leading to a steamy, forbidden encounter that leaves you questioning your choices and their consequences. author's note: AAAAAAAAA? tysm for all the love on Ice Cold Jealousy, this was so fun to write i hope yall like it >;) i might've gone too hard on the dirty talk depending on the type of person you are but idc it's hot OH and i PROMISE these wont all take place in the locker room lmfao, it's just where the plot took me. also, no dp dont get your hopes up.

On the ice, chaos reigns. The game unfolds at breakneck speed, the puck zipping from stick to stick, its path unpredictable. Players shift positions in the blink of an eye, changing possession in heartbeats. Their movements are a blur of speed and precision, leaving you struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire action. 

With 15 seconds left, the Golden Spring Griffins were up 3-2. There was no need to score again — they just had to keep possession. A bunch of show-offs…

And right there was the proof. 

A pass from one of their wingers to the other, cutting it mighty close to the Snowvale Sentinels’ defensive line. He rode it along the left side of the rink for about ten feet before an abrupt 180; clockwise, getting up close and personal with the defenseman who’d chased him down the whole play. The defenseman struck his stick down between the other player and the puck, expecting him to double back around. 

Everyone expected him to double back around.

But there he was — Tamlin, you believed was his name — skating backward for a second, letting the momentum carry him along his path. And he finished out his clockwise turn. Turn back down the ice? Not a chance. It was the perfect opportunity for a spin-o-rama. What a silly name for such a calculated move. What he did next had the arena and fans watching from everywhere on their feet. 

It was common practice to pass after a spin-o-rama, the maneuver simply meant to disorient any nearby opposition if a player was ever in a tough spot. Whoever he passed to would be expected to, as quickly as possible, either go for the shot or pass to someone who could. The downside was that this not only gave the opposing team time to figure out what was happening but to adjust accordingly as well. 

So Tamlin didn’t give them that chance. 

Immediately after coming out of his spin, he brought his stick back, and in a flash, thrust it forward. You could’ve sworn you heard the blade hit the ice just before the puck, and—

Red light. Goal.

Buzzer. That’s game.  

A spin-o-rama, a risky maneuver as is, followed by a slapshot, one of the strongest but least accurate shots, as you’d heard Cassian remind his team countless times over the years.

It was all so fast.

You focus on his footwork throughout the turn, absorbing every detail.

Again, you watch, slower this time, and notice the precise angle of the blade.

Looking up, you see Tarquin attempting the very same move, Cassian standing in as an opposing player. You tap your phone screen, pausing the ESPN stream of last night’s game. You’d gotten your fill of it last night. Lifting the soup spoon from the pot to your lips, you’d very nearly burnt yourself after how badly you’d jumped at Cassian’s exaggerated gasp at the television. For what had to have been at least an hour following, you were subject to the full-volume gushes and shouts of every last one of the Vipers during their group FaceTime. They were playing the Griffins in a couple of weeks. Though they didn’t have a particularly bitter history, their rivalry always had a bit of an edge to it.

It made sense that during practice today, Cassian was on their asses more than usual. The priority for the next couple of days was to teach Tarquin and Rhysand the maneuver (while trying to master it himself), to then teach the others how to counter it. 

Practice ended over half an hour ago, but they still had some time on the ice before Phil the Zamboni Guy came out to resurface it. He was cool, if a bit grouchy-looking.

“Fuck!” 

He was fine regarding the first half of the move, but coming out of the spin, none of his slapshots made it into the net. Hell — none of them made it past Cassian. 

“Again,” he said, firmly but coolly. In response, Tarquin wordlessly skated back to his starting position down ice, head lazily flopped back and arms loose by his sides. 

“Where’s Rhys? Isn’t he supposed to be here too?” Tarquin groaned, shifting back into proper stance. 

“Rhysie’s got a little date tonight,” you could hear the smirk in your boyfriend’s voice, followed by a sound of exaggerated, definitely insincere, enthusiasm from Tarquin. 

Your phone buzzes, a text from Mor.

Karaoke tn?

Truly, you had plans. Plans to stay home and watch bad TLC shows with a large bottle of chilled wine. But really, how bad would it be? You’d be drinking either way. Karaoke is not a sober activity.

uhh

where at?

After a few moments, another buzz, a text with an address, followed by a “Pleaseeeee (y/n), it’s so fun when you come :( I need someone to debrief and shit talk with after.” You roll your eyes with a small snort. Tapping on the address link, the map opens to show you it’s a nice little spot downtown, hopefully better than the sketchy karaoke place you’d followed her to last time.

sure why n-

Your screen goes black. You sigh, realizing you’ve drained your battery watching replays and scrolling through socials during the long practice session. 

Bringing your gaze back up, you notice the palpable frustration radiating from both men. You’ve never seen Tarquin so angry during practice; things usually came quite easily to him. When his next slapshot makes it past Cassian but bounces off the crossbar, you’re stunned. Even more shocking is the feral growl that echoes throughout the arena. You watch, astonished, as he violently hurls his helmet onto the ice. He skates off, fuming, before storming off down the hall. To cool down, you presume. 

Cassian skates over to you, and you meet him at the players’ bench to avoid talking through the glass.

“That move is gonna give us all hell,” Cassian sighs, removing his helmet and running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

You nod sympathetically. “It looked tricky. Tarquin seemed pretty frustrated,” you say, stating the obvious. You both share a knowing smile. 

“Yeah… But we’ll get it down,” he says, determination creeping into his voice. “Can’t take as long as the backhand saucer pass with Eris. Remember how many times he nearly took Az’s head off before he got it right?”

You chuckle a bit at the memory. He’d gotten the pass down fairly quickly. The issue was applying it. They’d spend about a week of practice setting up different game situations for him to practice the move. 

Azriel got hit with the puck several times. 

“You look good out there,” you told him with a coy smile. 

“When do I not?”

“When you’re being a narcissist,” you scoff. A blatant lie; he knew you liked your men cocky.

Cassian leans closer, a roguish grin spreading across his face. “Narcissist? Please. It’s not narcissism if it’s true.” He winks, then adds in a lower voice, “Besides, I seem to recall you enjoying my… confidence quite thoroughly last night.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “And here I thought your ego couldn’t get any bigger. Guess I’ll have to find a way to take you down a peg or two later.”

Cassian leans against the boards, his grin widening. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, mirroring his posture.

He relents, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You’re something else, babe, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink. “Though usually by guys who can’t keep up.”

“Oh, I think I manage just fine,” Cassian counters, a glint in his eye.

You’re about to respond when his stomach lets out an audible growl. He looks down, slightly embarrassed, and you both chuckle, the moment lightening.

Cassian says, rubbing the back of his neck, “What are you thinking for dinner tonight?”

“Oh, actually,” you start, “I’m going to karaoke with Mor. And some of her friends, I think? I’ll grab something while I’m out.”

Cassian nods, “Sounds fun. Tell Mor I said hi.”

“My phone died while I was texting her. Mind if I use yours to let her know?”

“Sure thing,” Cassian replies, reaching over the wall for his duffel.

Suddenly, the sharp sounds of blades scraping ice cuts through the air. You both turn to see Tarquin charging full speed with the puck toward center ice. His helmet’s off, hair windswept, determination etched on his features. You can’t help but admire the raw athleticism on display as he turns his back to the goal, his footwork mirroring Tamlin’s from the video. 

You inhale sharply. As he initiates the spin, his blade catches the edge of the puck instead of gliding past it. In a split second, his ankle twists at a sickening angle. His body, still carrying the momentum of the spin, topples sideways. You watch in horror as Tarquin crashes onto the ice, a cry of pain echoing through the arena.

Tarquin clutches his ankle, his features twisted in distress. Cassian immediately rushes towards him. You follow, carefully stepping onto the ice, your shoes sliding slightly as you try to keep your balance.  As you near, you hear Rhysand’s voice from the direction of the locker room. “What happened?” he shouts, running towards the scene. 

Rhysand, more sure-footed, reaches you first. As you slip slightly on the ice, his hand finds your lower back, the other on your shoulder, steadying you as he moves swiftly by. He slides to his knees the last few feet, joining Cassian at Tarquin’s side. You follow, more cautiously, moments later. 

“You gotta let me get a look at it bro,” Cassian tells him, face grim as he gently probes at Tarquin’s ankle. He moves his hand, and Cassian carefully unlaces Tarquin’s skate. The process is slow, each tug causing him to wince. His eyes, usually so bright, are now clouded with pain, making your heart ache a little at the sight. When Cassian finally eases the skate off, you all grimace. It’s silent save for the breath you suck in through your teeth. The two men kneeling over Tarquin shoot you a look, and you mouth a small “sorry”. How were you supposed to know they were trying to keep calm? It’s not like Tarquin was some fragile rookie who couldn’t handle it. 

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Tarquin tells them, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring a bit in pain when Cassian tries to move his ankle. “Probably just a sprain, right?”

His ankle is already swelling, an angry red color blooming across the skin. The area around the bone looks puffy and distorted. 

“Yeah… Yeah, probably—help me get him to my truck,” Cassian says to Rhysand, his voice tense with worry. With Cassian supporting his legs and Rhysand at his shoulders, Tarquin cradles his ankle as they lift him. It’s a bit awkward with only one of them in skates but they manage. 

As they carry him towards the exit, Tarquin calls out to you, his voice strained with pain. “(Y/N)! Can you grab my phone from my locker? 1418, combination’s 19-21-13.”

“Got it,” you reply assertively, already turned away. You call back to Cassian, “Just go, I’ll meet you there!”

You hurry down the hallway, your mind racing faster than your feet. The image of Tarquin’s swollen ankle flashes in your mind, making you cringe. How bad was it really? A sprain could mean a few weeks of recovery, but if it was fractured or worse…

As you near the locker room, you force yourself to focus. 1418, 19-21-13. You repeat the numbers in your head, determined not to forget them in your rush. 

The quiet empty corridor feels eerie after the chaos on the ice. You find yourself wondering how Tarquin is holding up, if he’s in much pain. A pang of sympathy hits you — you’ve seen how passionate he is about the game, how hard he pushes himself. Memories of his intense focus during practices, the way his muscles flex as he glides across the ice, his infectious smile, the droplets of water trailing down his chest after a shower…

You quickly push those thoughts aside, feeling a mix of guilt and a confusing thrill at the unbidden images. 

Reaching the locker room door, you push it open without hesitation, your eyes already scanning for locker 1418. 

You spot it quickly enough, your fingers flying over the combination lock. 19-21-13. The locker swings open with a metallic creak. You rummage through the contents, pushing aside gym clothes and equipment until your hand closes around the familiar shape of a phone. 

As you’re about to shut the locker and race back to your car, something catches your eye. Pinned to the inside of the door is a Polaroid — one you took at the team’s annual log cabin retreat last year. The guys are shirtless, grinning at the camera, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Cassian stands in the middle, all flexed biceps and confidence, Rhysand to his right and Tarquin on his left with matching, easygoing smiles that you’ve internally swooned at more than once. Azriel, always a bit more reserved than the others, stands slightly behind them, his eyes soft with a rare moment of unguarded joy. Helion and Eris flank the group, their expressions reflecting a mix of mischief and amusement. That was moments before they’d picked Cassian up and thrown him into the lake. You can’t help but smile, remembering the weekend’s camaraderie and the close quarters, the obstacle course that left you all covered in mud and laughing, the impromptu swimming races in the lake, and the countless moments of playful teasing. The cabin’s single bathroom had led to more than a few flustered encounters. You’d lost count of how many times you’d rounded the corner, only to collide with one of the guys fresh from the shower, hair dripping, towel barely clinging to their hips. Each of them had caught you off guard at least once over the years, leaving you to save face and will yourself not to stare.

Your reminiscing is abruptly cut short by a strained sound echoing through the room. You freeze, suddenly aware of the steady hiss of running water. How long have the showers been on? You were so focused on finding the phone, you hadn’t even noticed… Another noise like the last, this one a bit louder. 

Concern creeps in as you wonder if someone else has gotten hurt. First Tarquin, now this? What is it with today? Cautiously, you move towards the showers, ears straining for any more sounds. The rush of water grows louder as you approach. Only the stall at the far end, against the back wall, is running. You notice a small gap between the curtain and the wall, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes are drawn to it. 

Through the narrow space, you catch a glimpse of Azriel. His back is turned, muscles tense, shoulders slightly hunched, his head bowed. There’s a rhythmic quality to his movements that takes you a moment to comprehend. When realization dawns, you feel heat rush to your face.

You know you should leave, give him privacy, but you find yourself frozen in place. The steam seems to thicken the air around you, making it harder to breathe. Suddenly you’re acutely aware of your quickening pulse and the warmth spreading through your body.

Azriel’s back muscles ripple with each movement, the water cascading down his tanned skin, highlighting every ridge and contour. His left hand is splayed flat against the wall for support, fingers flexing slightly every now and then. The muscles in his arm contract and release, contract and release. His right hand, lower and out of view, works in a steady, practiced motion.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the interplay of muscles across his shoulders and back. His wet hair clings to his neck, droplets trailing down to join the rivulets streaming along his spine. Your gaze travels further downward, following the water’s path over the powerful curve of his glutes, the firm muscles clenching with each movement. His legs, strong and slightly apart for balance, show every shift in weight and tension, every flex and release. 

The sight is intoxicating. A flush creeps up your neck, a reaction that’s as involuntary as it is intense. Azriel lets out a low, throaty sound of pleasure, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’re rooted to the spot, every sense heightened. The steam swirls around you, seemingly thickening the air, making it harder to breathe. The sound of water rushing fills your ears, drowning out rational thought. You can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, the sheer presence of him a magnet pulling you closer.

Suddenly, Azriel’s movements still, and you notice the subtle tension in his muscles. He turns his head slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his profile. For a moment, you hope he hasn’t seen you, but then his eyes lock onto yours through the small gap. His gaze is intense, piercing, and you can see the realization dawning in his expression.

You feel your heart stop, your breath hitching in your throat. The room seems to shrink around you, the air heavy all of a sudden. Azriel’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Didn’t expect company,” he says, voice low and husky, cutting through the sound of the shower like a knife.

You stumble back a step, heat flooding your face. “I— Fuck, I’m sorry,” you push out, unable to tear your eyes away from him. From those eyes. He doesn’t move, just continues to watch you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. 

You finally force yourself to move, turning quickly and beelining for the door. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to—” you stammer over your shoulder, your heart racing. You reach for the door handle and tug, but it doesn’t budge. Panic flares as you yank harder, but it’s stuck. You slide Tarquin’s phone into your jacket pocket to use both hands.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, trying not to think about what Azriel must be thinking of you right now. 

You hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Your pulse quickens as you keep tugging on the door handle. “You don’t have to pretend it’s locked if you wanna stay in here with me, y’know,” Azriel’s voice comes from behind you, closer now.

You glance back to see him walking towards you, a towel in hand, drying his forearms and hands. The towel barely preserves his modesty, exposing everything from his muscular thighs to the sharp cut of his hip bones and a tantalizing glimpse of his V-line. He’s casual, almost nonchalant, but his eyes never leave yours, dark with amusement and something more.

“I was—” you start, but he cuts you off, raising a brow.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks, voice smooth and teasing.

You manage to arch a brow as well, trying to maintain some of your dignity as you respond, “Didn’t realize you were putting on a performance.”

Azriel chuckles, a deep, rich sound. “For you, (y/n)? I’d put on a private performance anytime.”

You feel your face start to heat up again, but you keep your composure. “How generous of you.”

He grins, finally wrapping the towel around his waist, the movement slow and deliberate. It takes everything in you to keep your gaze from traveling downward. “I aim to please,” he says.

You gesture to the door with your arm. “Since you’re so helpful, how about getting this door open?”

Azriel steps closer, lightly brushing his fingers against your arm as he moves you gently aside. “Let’s see what we have here,” he murmurs, his touch making its way to your waist and lingering a moment longer than necessary.

He gives the handle a firm tug. It doesn’t budge for him either. After a few more tries, he furrows his brows at it, as if it’ll give him an answer. “You weren’t kidding…”

“Shocking, I know,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

As he continues trying the door, you can’t help but be captivated by the muscles rippling in his arms, each sinew flexing with effort. Your eyes wander to the brutal scars crisscrossing his hands, remnants of a fateful game well before your time with the team. But you can’t help but imagine how those roughened fingers would feel inside you. The thought has you biting your lip to keep from sighing.

Azriel’s movements falter, and he glances back at you, a smirk playing on his lips. You quickly divert your eyes, feeling the intensity of his gaze. His smirk widens as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck gently before his grip tightens, almost possessively. “Catch your attention?” His voice drops to a whisper, the rasp sending jolts of arousal through you. 

“Come on, Az…” you murmur weakly, turning your head away from him. His hand moves from your shoulder to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he asks, head cocked as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You can never keep your eyes off of me for long, you make it so obvious.”

Your breath hitches as his fingers trail down your arm, sending a chill through your body. He leans in even closer, his lips almost grazing your skin. “Are you imagining what I could do for you that he can’t? Because I think about it more than I care to admit,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. 

Cass.

Your mind screams his name, but your body is rooted to the spot. Cassian is waiting for you, the urgency of the situation pulling at you like a lifeline. Yet here you stand, trapped in Azriel’s intoxicating presence, the steam in the air persistent. 

“You look tense, (y/n)” Azriel pulls back, his voice low and smooth, a dark melody that raises goosebumps across your skin. His hand moves to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hip over your skirt. “Is it because of Cass?”

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. “Azriel. I need to go. He’s waiting for me.”

Azriel’s lips curl into a knowing smile as his hand slides lower, toying with the hem of your skirt. “Is he?” he asks, his tone teasing.

Your breath catches as his fingers dip beneath the hem, just enough to tease, “Az, please,” you murmur, though the conviction in your voice is waning.

“Please what?” Azriel’s hand moves with slow, deliberate intent, his touch both tender and possessive. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”

Your mind is a whirlwind as his touch makes your pulse race. “Cassian,” you whisper, almost a plea. 

“Cassian doesn’t have to know,” Azriel whispers, his voice dripping with reassurance, each word a gentle caress against your skin. “It’ll be our little secret. I promise.”

You should resist, should want to resist, to pull away and run to Cassian. But his hand slips up, under your skirt, fingers brushing over the thin fabric of your tights. Your body betrays you, squeezing your thighs together, a barely perceptible, breathy whine escaping you.

“We can’t,” you breathe out with a barely visible shake of your head, but you don’t push him away. 

“And why not, hm?” He sounds like he’s hardly there, enraptured by the trail of his fingers when they find the waistline of your tights, slipping just beneath the hem to caress your skin directly. 

You grab his wrist to stop him, and it’s only then that you tear your eyes away from his to look at the sight. His hand is under your skirt, the fabric draped over his wrist. The fabric is lifted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your underwear if he were to lower his gaze. 

Your heart pounds as you struggle to maintain your resolve. “This isn’t right,” you whisper, your voice betraying the war raging within you. 

Azriel’s fingers pause. “Isn’t it?” he asks softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

His tone is gentle, almost coaxing. “We’re just sharing a moment,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “No one has to know.”

Your grip on his wrist weakens, the conflict within you intensifying with each second. His words, his touch — they’re all weaving a spell around you, pulling you closer. 

Azriel senses your hesitation and presses his advantage, his hand resuming its slow, deliberate movements. “Just let go,” he whispers, his voice a dark promise. “Let me make you feel good.” 

Your resolve crumbles as his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers tracing patterns of fire on your skin. The forbidden thrill of his touch, the intoxicating promise of pleasure — it’s too much to resist.

With a soft gasp, you finally give in, your back arching as your chest presses into him. “Azriel,” you breathe, but it’s different than before. This time, his name tumbles from your lips as both a surrender and a plea. 

Azriel’s smile is triumphant as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch of you. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this heated, forbidden moment.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. Part of your mind screams at you to stop, to push him away, but the way his hands move, the way his lips taste… It’s intoxicating. The guilt gnaws at you, but the desire is overwhelming, drowning out any sense of right or wrong when his hand slips further into the waistband of your tights, his fingers brushing against your panties. He rubs you through the fabric, and as a soft moan escapes your lips, a groan leaves his. The sensation is electric, a pleasure and forbidden thrill that makes your knees weak. You clutch at his shoulders, torn between the need to push him away and the desire to pull him closer.

You gasp, his name a breathless whisper on your lips. He responds with a low, satisfied hum, his fingers working, pushing you further into your haze. His touch is both gentle and demanding, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You feel his warm breath against your neck as his lips trail down, leaving a blazing path in their wake. Your body craves more, hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm against his hand. He doesn’t stop, each stroke deliberate and intoxicating. Your breaths come faster, and you tangle your fingers into his still-dripping hair, pulling him back up for a frenzied kiss.

Desperation takes over as you both rush to tear off your clothes. Your jacket falls to the floor with a distant thud, Tarquin’s phone still in the pocket. The sound barely registers in your mind, consumed as you are by the urgent need to feel Azriel’s skin on yours. His hands move with practiced ease, pulling your shirt up and off, your lips hardly separating. His fingers work deftly at the clasp of your bra, and with a single motion, it comes undone, falling away to reveal your bare skin. 

As you kick off your shoes, his lips are already back on your neck, biting, licking, aching for a taste. You step backward, the backs of your thighs brushing against the wall as he tugs down your skirt and tights in one forceful, fluid motion, the urgency in his actions mirrored by your own racing heartbeat. Each step backward leaves a piece of clothing discarded. He pauses, his eyes dark with desire as he takes you in, then his fingers resume their exploration, sliding beneath your panties to rub you directly. You gasp, arching further into his touch, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his fingers. He pulls back his hand, peeling away and discarding the last bit of cloth. He lifts you then, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. As you both step towards the shower, you hear the soft thud of Azriel’s towel hitting the floor. He guides you closer, the anticipation building with each step. The spray of water hits your skin, and for a moment you're confused.

Azriel’s voice, low and reassuring, cuts through the hiss of the water. “Some privacy,” he murmurs against your lips, a sly smile playing on his face. “In case we get rescued.”

The water cascades over you both. You cling to him, lost in the sensation, the guilt and doubt taking a backseat. His hands roam freely, caressing every inch of your body with a possessive tenderness. His lips trail down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His fingers find your clit again, circling in slowly, teasingly. You moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.

“You feel so good around my fingers,” Azriel growls against your lips. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your breaths are nothing more than shallow gasps, each one punctuated by the delicious friction of his fingers. “Az,” you moan, trying to keep your voice low. “I need more.”

He smirks, his lips brushing against your ear. “Oh, are you going to beg for it?” A deep hum. “I want to hear those sweet little moans louder, baby, can you do that for me?”

You can’t help but comply, your moans finally growing from whispered gasps as his fingers move faster, curl harder. “Fuck— Yes, Azriel, right there,” you choke out, the last remnant of common sense in you still minding your volume. 

“That’s it,” he purrs. “You’re so fucking perfect like this, falling apart on my hand.” His thumb steadily circles your throbbing clit. 

Your hands grasp at his shoulders for something to anchor yourself with as the pleasure builds. “Please Az,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “I’m so close,” you tell him, a hint of disbelief in your tone.

“Come for me, angel,” he commands, a glint in his eyes. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting, and you let out a strangled cry, a hand over your mouth stifling it. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, and his name spills from your lips, a breathless chant, as he continues to touch you, prolonging the pleasure.

“That was… wow…” you pant as you come down from your high.

“Good,” he says, his fingers slowing but not stopping. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you can respond, he moves his hand from your breast to your mouth, holding his fingers up to your lips. “Suck,” is all he says. And you do. You take his fingers in, swirling your tongue around them, coating them in your saliva. “You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, looking down at you with slightly parted lips. “So perfect.”

He pulls out of you, but just as you’re about to whine around his fingers at the loss, you see him bring them to his own mouth, and you whine at that instead. He groans and his eyes roll back when he tastes you, and the sight sends a rush of need to your core. “Azriel,” you mumble around his fingers, the word muffled. 

“Shh, angel,” he soothes, his voice a low rumble. “Just let me take care of you.” His fingers leave your mouth, trailing down your body. Both of his hands come to rest on your hips, squeezing the flesh there. He turns you suddenly, pulling your back flush against his front, and his arms wrap around you. One hand slides between your legs, resuming its torment, while the other moves to cover your mouth.

“Quiet now,” he whispers. “Wouldn’t want anyone walking by outside to hear us, right?”

You nod, hardly processing what he’d said. Your concentration is set on the feel of his toned abdominal muscles pressed against your back. 

“You said Cass was waiting for you, right?” he whispers in your ear, the sensation without being able to see him being all the more delicious, but your eyes widen at his words. You let out a frustrated groan, much louder than the noises you made before, though it’s muffled by his hand. “Doesn’t seem like you care too much anymore… What if he comes looking for you? Hm? What then? Gotta keep quiet for me, okay?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “For all we know, he could be right outside the door, worried sick about his sweet little (y/n).”

Your heart races at his words, fear and excitement coursing through you. Azriel’s fingers move faster, his hand stifling your moans. “Imagine the look on his face if he found you like this,” he continues. “So needy, so desperate for my touch.”

You shiver, his words igniting a forbidden thrill within you, far surpassing the teasing and casual touches Cassian permitted them all. “Please…” It’s so muffled behind his hand, but he hears you perfectly.

“Please what?” he murmurs, his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you. “Please make you come again? Or please stop before Cassian catches us?”

Your mind is a whirlwind, the thought of Cassian finding you like this both terrifying and exhilarating. Azriel loosens his hand long enough to hear your response. “Make me come,” you finally whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Azriel.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his fingers moving with relentless precision. “I want to feel you come for me again.”

You’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The only sounds in the room are the running water, your ragged breaths, and the wet, slick sounds of his fingers working in and out of you at a punishing speed. Just as you’re about to reach the peak, you hear it — a faint squeak of a sneaker on the tiled floor.

Your eyes snap open, panic mingling with the pleasure. Azriel falters for a beat, barely half a second, but doesn’t stop, his hand tightening over your mouth. “Shh,” he whispers right into your ear, his voice dark and heavy with authority. “Don’t make a sound.”

You’re caught in a delicious torment, the fear of being seen only heightening your arousal. The footsteps grow louder, and closer, and then, abruptly, the curtain is yanked open.

Rhysand stands there, eyes wide with shock, then with something else as his eyes rake over your body. His eyes meet yours, then shift to Azriel behind you, his hand still buried between your legs, still moving in and out. A smile creeps onto Rhysand’s face and he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall with a short breath of a laugh. 

“Does Cass know you’ve got her here like this?” He juts his chin at you.

Azriel smirks, his fingers still working inside you. “What do you think?”

Rhysand chuckles, his eyes roaming over your body with a detached curiosity. “You think he’ll have you skate lines for this?” he muses. His gaze travels up and down your form, lingering on the places where Azriel’s hands are touching you, but his face remains a mask of calm. Yet you notice his knuckles turning white where he’s squeezing his hands into tight fists. 

“Probably. And you’d probably be right there next to me just for seeing her like this,” Azriel replies nonchalantly, only a hint of the raspiness he spoke to you with before remains. “But I think it’s worth it.”

Rhysand nods, his eyes darkening with a predatory gleam. “She’s quite the sight isn’t she?” he says, as if you weren’t even there, as if you were nothing more than a piece of art to be admired and discussed. His gaze meets yours, and you see the raw hunger lurking beneath his cool exterior. It excites you, makes your muscles clench around Azriel’s fingers. 

Azriel hums in agreement, fingers curling inside you, drawing a muffled moan from your lips. “Cass is lucky to have her.”

Rhysand's eyes remain fixed on you, a predatory gleam in their depths. He doesn't say anything more, just watches intently as Azriel continues his ministrations. You cling to Azriel's arms, your nails digging into his skin, the need to come overwhelming you.

"That's it, angel," Azriel murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Get yours, go ahead."

You can see Rhysand hardening in his pants, his cool demeanor betraying nothing but his body telling a different story. The sight only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge. 

With a final, desperate cry, you shatter around Azriel's fingers, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. He holds you through it, his fingers never stopping until you're trembling and spent.

As you come down from your high, Rhysand steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Mind if I join?" he asks, but his question is directed at you, not Azriel.

You hesitate, the conflict clear in your eyes. Azriel tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "It's okay," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "You want this, don't you?"

You swallow hard, then nod slowly. Rhysand's eyes darken with satisfaction as he begins to strip, his movements unhurried.

Azriel’s fingers finally slip out of you, and he gently guides you to lean back against the shower wall and he kneels before you, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. The warm water cascades over you both, heightening the intimacy. Between your thighs, eyes locked on yours, he starts to kiss a trail up your inner thigh. “You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he murmurs against your skin. “You ready to be good for Rhys too?”

Rhysand, now fully undressed, steps into the stall with a lazy confident stride. He lowers himself beside Azriel, his eyes devouring the sight of you. You can’t help but look away from the sight of both of them admiring your most intimate parts. “Look at you ,” Rhysand says, his voice dripping with approval, and you whine in embarrassment as he spreads your sex. “So beautiful.”

Azriel’s mouth replaces his fingers, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair. Rhysand stands, his hands cupping your breasts with a thumb circling your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you. “So fucking good,” he murmurs, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

His lips are even softer than you imagined, his hands both tender and firm, exactly as you’d fantasized. Azriel’s tongue works with expert precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Rhysand’s hand trails down your body, his fingers joining Azriel’s mouth between your legs, and the combination of their touches drives you wild. 

“Does that feel good, angel?” Azriel asks, his voice vibrating against your core. 

You nod, unable to say anything more than a quiet ‘uh-huh’.  Rhysand’s lips travel to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin there. Your heart shoots up into your throat, hoping they thought about leaving you free of any marks. “You look so perfect like this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. “Tell us what you need, darling,” Rhysand says softly, gently. 

“Both of you,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling. “I need both of you.”

Azriel’s laugh is low and wicked as he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with amusement, chin slick with your wetness. “Hear that, Rhys? She can’t get enough — she’s fuckin’ begging for it.”

Rhysand’s fingers trail slowly over your skin, away from your most sensitive, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I know, so needy,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Poor Cassian. Does he know what a slut you are for us? How you’re dripping and ready the second we touch you?”

Azriel’s hands move to your hips, gripping them firmly. “I bet he’s pacing right now, worried sick about his sweet little (y/n),” he taunts, his breath fanning over your pulsing cunt. “And here you are, begging for us to fuck you. Does that make you wet, (y/n)? Knowing he’s waiting?”

You whimper, the heat of their words igniting your shame. “I don’t— It— No,” your eyes turn glassy with tears. You should leave, should somehow get through that door and run to Cassian and confess everything, beg for his forgiveness, and pray he doesn’t leave you for betraying his trust. But the need, the raw desire coursing through you, Azriel’s face between your legs, keeps you rooted to the spot. Before you can wonder how Rhysand even got in, he speaks up, his voice dripping with amusement. “Look at you, stuttering and trembling. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? That being a good, filthy little slut behind his back turns you on.”

Azriel chuckles against your core, the vibrations sending shivers through you. “He’s right, isn’t he, angel? Answer him,” he commands, tongue and fingers working in tandem. Then Rhysand’s lips suck and bite at your breast, his hand squeezing at the other. It all pushes you to the brink of your sanity. You can’t deny it anymore. The very thought of betraying Cassian while being worshipped by his two best friends, their words and touch stripping away your hesitance, is intoxicating. The way their voices tease and command, the way their hands and mouths worship your body — every sensation, every whisper, is a direct line to your deepest desires. 

With a moan, you finally give in, your voice barely more than a breathless murmur as a single tear falls from your eye. “Yes… God, yes, it turns me on so much…” Your admission hangs heavy in the air for a few moments. Azriel’s eyes gleam with a dark satisfaction, and Rhysand’s smirk widens as if he’s just won some grand prize. The air around you crackles with their shared triumph, and they each seem to revel in having been able to extract the confession from you. 

Rhysand’s fingers continue to slide over your skin, his touch commanding and sure, and Azriel shrugs your leg off his shoulder as he stands and steps aside. “Want to feel her, Rhys? She’s perfect.” He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, pushing his middle and ring fingers into you, a groan escaping him at the feel of you.

“Damn… I can’t wait to stuff you full, (y/n). Do you want that? Want us both to fuck you so good, don’t you?”

You must have whined out your boyfriend’s name, because Azriel’s voice adds, “You know we won’t tell if you don’t. Cassian doesn’t need to know about this, right?” His hand comes up to move a wet strand of hair from your face and stays on the back of your neck, thumb rubbing your skin soothingly. 

Rhysand’s fingers pump into you deeply now. Their faces are both so close to yours and it takes everything in you to continue to listen to what they’re saying. “That’s right, darling. It’s our little secret, just the three of us.”

“You’re doing so well, angel,” Azriel praises. “Just let Rhys take care of you. We’re here for you.”

“Cassian doesn’t need to know. It’s just us.”

“No one else needs to be involved. It’s our little secret.”

Their voices are thick with charm. It’s meant to soothe, to let you know this is a safe space where your desires are understood and indulged. You find yourself lost in their promises, in their intoxicating reassurance. It all creates a heady mix of emotions, drawing you deeper into the experience and further away from any thoughts of right or wrong.

Suddenly, Rhysand lifts your leg, hooking your knee into the crook of his arm. You gasp in surprise, hands grasping for any point of contact with them to keep yourself from falling. One grabs Rhysand’s bicep, the other lands on Azriel’s shoulder. His voice grows more urgent as he teases your slit with the head of his cock, his breath hot and demanding. “Remember, this is all for you. It’s just us making sure you get everything you want. Okay?”

It’s silent save for the spray of water around you all, and their eyes bore into yours expectantly. They were waiting. If you really didn’t want to do this, this was the moment to give the word. But the intensity of their gaze, the heated promises in their voices, and the way their bodies are pressed so close to yours make it nearly impossible to think clearly. The urgency in Rhysand’s voice and the steady reassurance from Azriel leave you trembling in anticipation. The pressure of their touches, the pleasure, the guilt, the need.

A soft, trembling “Yes” escapes your lips, barely audible, but it’s enough. Rhysand’s eyes light up with satisfaction, and he immediately begins to position himself more firmly, his movements confident and assured. 

Azriel’s hand continues to soothe your neck, his thumb stroking gently as he leans in closer. “That’s it,” he sighs absently.

But you reach out and grab Rhysand by the wrist, stopping him. Their expressions shift to confusion; surprise and concern evident on their faces. You pause, a note of urgency in your voice. “Condom,” you manage to say, clearly and firmly. 

Their features seem to relax a bit at that. They exchange a glance, and Azriel nods slightly before stepping away to fetch condoms from his locker.

Rhysand takes the opportunity to lean in closer, a genuine softness in his eyes as he looks at you. He gently places a hand on your cheek, his expression turning serious. “(Y/n), if you’re having any second thoughts, you can tell us. We can stop right here if you’re not completely sure, if you’re not comfortable.”

He pauses, giving you a moment to respond, his gaze unwavering and sincere. “We want you to feel good and to be sure about what you’re doing. If you want us to stop, we’ll stop. No questions asked.”

You distantly hear Azriel throw a locker shut. “Rhys… If I didn’t want this, you wouldn’t still have my leg over your arm.”

Rhysand gives a soft smile. “Alright, then.” He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. It felt more intimate than the situation warranted. “Just making sure.”

Azriel returns holding a string of condom wrappers, and steps back into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. Rhysand takes a foil square from him, opening it slowly. Azriel’s hands roam your body, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “We’re going to take our time with you,” he whispers, his breath against your ear. “Make sure you feel every second.”

You look down, watching Rhysand line himself back up, and your breath hitches. He’s big, the thickness of him daunting. The sight sends a thrill of anticipation through you, albeit with a touch of apprehension. He digs his fingers into your hips, the tip of his cock pushing up against your entrance. “Just relax, it’s alright,” he soothes you as he begins to push in, stretching you in ways that leave you breathless. The initial sensation is intense, pleasure and a slight burn as your body adjusts to his size. Every inch that presses into you feels like pure ecstasy. Your fingers tighten on each of them, your eyes wide and not once leaving Rhysand’s.

Azriel’s hand slides from your waist to your lower back, his touch featherlight but reassuring. As Rhysand pushes deeper, Azriel’s fingers trace the sensitive curve of your spine. He leans in, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “He’s big, isn’t he?” His other hand cups your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple. The dual sensation of Rhysand slowly filling you and Azriel’s gentle, yet firm, touch on your body makes your head spin. Azriel’s lips find the curve of your neck once again, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. The tenderness has you throwing your head back with a sigh. 

“Mhm,” you moan slightly with a soft nod. Azriel, still toying with your nipple, gently grabs your chin and guides you to look back at Rhysand. 

“Tell him, angel. Tell him how you love being split open by his cock, he wants to hear it.” 

You whine, timid, as you look him in the eyes again, the violet deep enough to drown in. “You feel so good,” you manage to whisper, voice trembling. “I love how big you are, how you stretch me.”

But Azriel’s grip on your chin tightened. “Is that what I said?” His tone was domineering. 

You swallow a gasp as Rhysand settles all the way in. “I love… being split open by your cock, Rhys,” your breathing coming in pants. “So good…”

You watch his lips curl into a smug grin. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pulling out until only the tip was in, then gently pushing himself back into you. But Azriel isn’t done. 

“Now tell him you need more, beg him for it.” You can tell he’s got a devilish grin on his face by the sound of his voice. 

“Please, Rhys, I need more,” you keen. “I need you to fuck me harder.”

Rhysand’s eyes darken with lust, his nails digging into your hips. “That’s it, beg for it,” he growls, beginning to pick up speed. His thrusts become more powerful, sending waves of pleasure through you. 

“Harder, Rhys,” you plead, your voice quivering. “I need you to fuck me harder, please don’t hold back, I need it so, so bad—Fuck!” Your brows knit together in pleasure. 

Azriel moves behind you, his strong hands sliding under your thighs. With a swift motion, he hoists you up, your legs hooked over his arms, the hold forcing your legs as far apart as they’ll go. Rhysand takes the opportunity to explore your body with his hands, one wrapping loosely around your throat and the other gently tangling in your hair. 

“You feel so fucking good around me,” Rhysand grunts, his breath puffing against your lips. “So tight, so perfect.”

Azriel’s grip on your thighs is firm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he supports your weight. “Doing so well for us, angel,” he whispers, along with other soothing words of affirmation. 

Rhysand’s pace quickens, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. His hand around your throat tightens just enough to make you gasp, his eyes locked onto yours. “You fucking like this, don’t you?” he growls. “Being used by us, being our perfect little slut.”

“Yes, God,” you moan, your voice breathless and full of need. “I love it, Rhys, you fuck me so good.” You feel Azriel’s grip tighten and Rhysand’s hips stutter at your words.

“He fucks you good, angel?” Azriel breathes out. When you nod, Rhysand sees him whisper into your ear, the relentless stream of water muffles his words, rendering them inaudible to him. 

You shake your head adamantly, the glazed-over look clearing from your eyes. “No, Cassian’s the best,” your voice is steady despite the pleasure coursing through your core with every pump in and out. “No one fucks me like he does.”

Rhysand's thrusts slow but grow more deliberate, hitting deeper with every motion. He moves his hand from around your neck only to roughly grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is that so?” he murmurs, brows raised slightly. He thrusts harder, his eyes never leaving yours, determined to make you doubt your own words.

Azriel readjusts his grip on your thighs, and you can feel his hard length pressing against your ass. “Does Cassian treat you like you deserve? Like the whore you are?” Azriel asks, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Does he know how to make you tremble like this?”

Your eyes water, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “He… he knows me better than anyone,” you manage to say, though your conviction wavers with each thrust and touch.

Rhysand smirks, his grip tightening on your hips as he increases his pace. “We’ll see,” he growls, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dominating yours.

Azriel’s mouth trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. “We’re going to make you feel so good, angel,” he whispers for both of you to hear. “So good that you’ll forget all about him.”

Rhysand’s fingers dig into your flesh, his thrusts becoming more intense. “Tell us how it feels,” he demands, his breath hot against your lips. “Tell us who’s making you feel this way.”

Your mind is a whirlwind of sensations, the relentless pleasure making it hard to think. “It… it feels…” you gasp, unable to form coherent thoughts as Azriel’s lips and Rhysand’s thrusts overwhelm your senses.

 “Tell us,” Rhysand growls, jackhammering into you, a thumb playing with your clit. “Who makes you feel this way?”

Azriel’s breath is hot against your ear, his voice a seductive murmur. “Just admit it to yourself, (y/n).”

You’re teetering on the brink, the overwhelming sensations pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You… you’re…” you stammer, the words caught in your throat.

“Say it,” Rhysand commands, his voice rough with need.

Azriel’s lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. 

Finally, your orgasm breaks, and you cry out, your body convulsing with the force of it. “Cassian!” you scream, the name ripped from your lips as pleasure crashes over you in waves. Tears stream from your eyes now, whether from the contrition or the sheer bliss, you didn’t know. 

Rhysand's eyes flare with anger. His thrusts become more erratic and forceful, his jaw clenched in frustration. The force of his thrusts now left the previous ones forgotten. “Cassian?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “Was Cassian the one to make you come just now?” Without a word, he grabs you from Azriel. You wrap your legs around him. Without missing a beat, he pulls out almost entirely, leaving you gasping for breath. He slams back into you with a renewed, relentless force. The raw intensity of his thrusts makes you whimper, your body trembling from the overstimulation. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination to make you forget everything but him.

“I don’t want you saying his name while I’m inside you, while I’m the one fucking you dumb,” Rhysand demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Look at you… A crying mess.” He pulls you down onto him with every upward thrust. “Say my name,” he demands, his tone both seductive and demanding. “I don’t care if it isn’t true, while I’m fucking you, you make me believe I’m the only one you want.”

You gasp and moan as his words cut through your tears. “Rhysand… Rhysand, you’re the one,” you whimper, barely able to form coherent thoughts. “I need you… so much.”

Behind you, Azriel’s eyes gleam with a predatory interest as he watches the intense scene unfold. His hand drifts down his body, fingers brushing against his neglected cock. He strokes himself slowly, savoring the sight of you being claimed by Rhysand, the way your body responds so eagerly to every thrust.

“Prove that I’m fucking you so stupid that all you can think about is my name. Can you do that for me? Can you forget about Cassian and make me the only one who matters?”

You nod fervently, your voice breaking. You shout a mantra of “Yes’s,” your body arching in response to his powerful thrusts. “Want you to come…”

Rhysand’s lips curl into a dark, satisfied grin as he listens to your desperate pleas. “Good girl,” he murmurs, movements growing more urgent, breathing growing heavier. “Scream my name while I come inside you,” he commands, his voice strained.

Your body is trembling from the intensity, every nerve alight with overstimulation. “Rhysand! Rhysand!” you cry out, each plea mingled with breathless moans and cries of ecstasy. “Please, don’t stop! I need more, need you to come!”

With a low, guttural sound, Rhysand finally reaches his climax. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, each one punctuated by a shudder as he fills you completely. His grip on your hips is relentless, his body convulsing with the force of his release. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re perfect. So good for me…”

As he pulls back, panting heavily, Azriel steps forward with a smirk of his own. His gaze is unwavering, and his presence feels almost predatory. He takes you by the waist, guiding you down gently. Your legs feel like jelly, barely able to support your weight, and you stumble slightly as you catch yourself against the cold tiles of the wall.

“Wait, just a sec…” you manage to murmur, still trying to catch your breath. But Azriel isn’t having any of it. His hands are firm and decisive as he presses you against the wall chest-first, pulling your hips back, and pushing your back into an arch.

“No,” Azriel’s voice is a low, fierce growl, his eyes burning with unrestrained hunger. He steps closer, his movements assertive and commanding, an almost primal need radiating from him. As he presses you against the cold tiles, your legs buckle slightly under the weight of his presence. His hands grip your waist with unyielding strength, holding you firmly in place. “No more waiting,” he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with desire. “I found you first. I’ve been waiting my turn, watching, and now I get my time with you. You’re not getting a moment’s rest.”

Your mind is a hazy whirl of pleasure and confusion, struggling to focus on anything. The remnants of your coherence slipped away at some point while you were in Rhysand’s arms — those strong arms — leaving you a trembling mess against the cold wall. You can barely think.

 “(Y/n),” he says sharply, getting your attention, or what was left of it. “I’m going to take you, right here, hard and deep, and make sure that every time this pussy gets fucked, you wish it was me doing it. Do you understand?”

Your head nods instinctively, but your voice comes out as a breathy murmur, “Y-yes… want it… need you…” Your words barely form.

Rhysand, still catching his breath, watches with a smirk. “She’s completely lost in it, Az,” he teases, stepping up next to you to run a hand over your wet hair. “I fucked you so good. That’s what you said, right?” He chuckles lowly. 

Azriel’s eyes darken as he cuts him a look, jealous when he sees Rhysand running his hand through your hair. “You did. And now you’re done,” Azriel growls, pushing his hand off of you. You whine, missing the comforting touch. He grips your hips firmly and thrusts all the way into you, eliciting a loud shriek from your lips. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his considerable size before he sets a powerful, unrelenting rhythm, each motion drawing a helpless gasp from your lips. Your legs shake and threaten to give out, but Azriel’s strong hold keeps you steady. 

“So fucked out you can’t even think, hm, darling?” Rhysand says in mock sympathy.

“Good,” Azriel mutters into your ear. “Brainless and begging for my cock.”

Without warning, Rhysand drops to his knees between you and the wall, his tongue tracing a line from your thigh to where Azriel is pounding into you. He wraps his arms around you, hands squeezing your thighs and ass, the sensation makes you gasp, your body jolting as Rhysand’s mouth latches onto your clit, his tongue swirling with expert precision. Azriel's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts merciless. “Do you think about us when you're with him? Do you wish it was our hands on you, our cocks filling you up?”

Your answer is a high-pitched moan, your mind too foggy to form words. Azriel’s hand slides up to your throat, gripping firmly but not cutting off your air. “Don’t just moan like a dumb fucking whore,” he growls, the other hand slapping your cheek lightly a few times to get your attention. He doesn’t stop plowing into you for a moment. “Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, I think about you,” you gasp out, your voice trembling. “I want you… both of you… so bad.”

Rhysand chuckles against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his tongue flicking your clit mercilessly. “Y’know, Cass’s probably gonna be a fuckin’ mess if he finds out what you’ve been up to, especially since he’s just sitting around waiting for you at the hospital,” he whispers, his voice laced with playful menace. “Just imagine how he’d react…”

Your response is a pitiful whine, tears mixing with sweat as you weakly call out, “Cassian… Cassian… I love him…” Your voice breaks with each syllable, the raw emotion evident in your cries.

You feel Rhysand’s smirk widen against you as he looks up and meets Azriel’s eyes. “Yeah, you love him so much that you’re here with us, right, darling?”

Azriel’s thrusts don’t falter as he grabs you by the shoulders for leverage. “We know you love him, baby. Now take this fucking cock.” And he slams into you with a force that pulls sob after sob out of you. His grip on your shoulders tightens, then shifts. One arm slides up, wrapping a firm, massive bicep around your neck, pulling you back into a headlock, his control over you absolute. Each thrust of his massive cock seems to reach even deeper into you at this angle. “You love being used by us, don’t you? Just a little slut for our cocks.”

“Yes… I love it…” you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel’s hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you cry out. “That’s right. Scream for me. Let Cassian hear how much you love this.”

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look back at him. “Look at you, a dumb little whore, taking it so well. You like being fucked like this? Like a toy?”

“Yes… like a toy… your toy…” you whimper, your body trembling.

“Tell me how much you love it, angel. Beg for more. Beg for my cock,” he commands, his voice dripping with dominance.

“Please… Azriel… more… I need more…” you plead, tears streaming down your face.

“I bet Cassian couldn’t fuck you like this. Even when he thinks he’s being rough, he’s too gentle, isn’t he? A pretty little cocksleeve like you needs it rough, huh? Need to be reminded you’re just a hole for us to use,” Azriel growls.

“You’re nothing but a cock-hungry slut, aren’t you? Just a little plaything for us,” he continues, his words sending waves of shame and arousal through you.

Sometimes, you could swear you felt Rhysand’s tongue reach further as if he was tasting you on Azriel’s cock. The sensation is mind-blowing, pushing you deeper, if possible, into submission. Rhysand's tongue continues its relentless torment, occasionally delving deeper, tasting every thrust Azriel gives you. It's overwhelming, the combination of Azriel's cock and Rhysand's tongue driving you to the brink of insanity.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Azriel grunts, his arm tightening around your neck, making you gasp for air. “I can feel you clenching around me. You love this, don’t you? Love being filled up, love being our dirty little secret.”

“Yes… Fuck yes, Az,” you whimper, your voice raw and desperate. “I love it… love our secret.” 

Rhysand chuckles darkly, his hot breath teasing your sensitive skin. “Desperate, dripping, and fucked out of your mind for us. What would they all say…?”

Azriel's hand slides from your jaw to your breasts, roughly squeezing and pinching your nipples, adding to the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. “I want to hear you beg for it, angel. Beg for me to fuck you harder.”

“Please… Az… fuck me harder… use me,” you plead, each word broken by gasps and moans.

He holds you up effortlessly, his strength and dominance undeniable. “I want you to scream my name,” he commands, his voice low and rough. “Scream it so loud that Cassian hears it in his fucking dreams.”

“Azriel! Azriel!” you scream, your body trembling uncontrollably as he drives you closer to the edge.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. Show me how much this tight fucking hole loves when I fuck it,” Azriel growls.

“I’m just your — fuck — your worthless slut… your cum dump, both of you…” you whimper, the words spilling from your lips without thought. “I’ll take everything you want to give me…”

Azriel’s and Rhysand’s eyes widen in shock, both momentarily stunned by your shameless, complete submission. The brief pause is charged with a dark thrill, their expressions those of surprise and deepened desire. 

Rhysand recovers first, a dark smile stretching across his face as he leans over to look up at Azriel. “You hear that, Az? You hear what she’s calling herself?” His voice is dripping with mockery and appreciation. “Tell us again, darling, I love hearing it. How much do you like being used like this?” He leans back into you, his tongue flicking over your clit with renewed intensity. 

“Love it so much…! Just want to be filled and used… Want to make you feel good…”

Azriel let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Making me feel so good, angel, you’re perfect… Gonna use you up, nothing else matters but you taking what we give you, do you understand?”

You cry out a string of “yes’s!” the muscles in your body begin to shake uncontrollably. Your ears ring, the sound melding with the pounding of your heart.

Azriel’s hands slide back down to your hips, and he pulls you closer with each powerful thrust, altering the angle to hit deeper. The shift sends a jolt of intense pleasure through you, causing your body to spasm with every stroke. You gasp, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock with heightened sensitivity.

Rhysand pauses his relentless flicking of your clit, his mouth hovering just above your sensitive skin. He takes a moment to savor the sight of you trembling and gasping, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “That’s all us,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. 

Azriel’s breathing grows ragged. “Just let go and take it all. Your body’s ours to use however we want right now, huh?” The depth of Azriel’s movements, coupled with Rhysand’s teasing touch, pushes you to the edge yet again. You cry out, all desperate moans and incoherent babble. Rhysand’s tongue returns to its torment, tasting you come undone on his tongue, leaving you gasping and clinging to whatever coherence you have left. The ringing in your ears doesn’t subside until they finally relent. 

Azriel’s breaths come in heavy, ragged gasps as he slows his thrusts, satisfaction in his eyes. “You took us so well,” he murmurs, and he sounds almost as spent as you did. You both collapse against the cool tiles, bodies still intertwined, the sound of the water cascading around you. You reach out and turn the water off, the sudden silence only broken by the soft pants of breath.

Rhysand steps out for a moment and returns with a couple of towels from his locker. He hands one to Azriel, who begins to dry you off with a tender, almost reverent touch. Rhysand grins, wrapping his towel around his waist. "You kept up pretty well," he quips, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You smirk, taking the towel Azriel offers you. "I think you two just like to show off," you tease, patting yourself dry. "Always trying to one-up each other and forgetting about everyone else."

Azriel chuckles, shaking his head as he dries his hair. "Can you blame us?" he replies. "We have a reputation to maintain."

Rhysand steps closer, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and desire. "And what about you?" he murmurs, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. "You’re quite the little fox yourself."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "Takes one to know one," you retort, enjoying the way their eyes light up at your sass.

Suddenly, you look at him with curiosity. “Wait, Rhys, what are you even doing here? How did you get in?”

Rhysand smirks, a little sheepishly. "I left my wallet and came back to get it."

Azriel chuckles. "Through the door? We were stuck in here."

Rhysand shrugs. "Oh, that door has been acting up ever since Eris jammed it last month." A look of understanding dawns on Azriel’s face.

Just then, the phone abandoned in your jacket pocket rings, jolting you all. 

Fuck.

You rush over to grab it. Your heart races as you see Cassian's name on Tarquin's phone. You answer the call, trying to steady your breath. "Cassian?”

"Hey, babe, what's taking so long? Are you on your way?"

You hesitate, then reply, "We got stuck in the locker room."

"...We...?"

"Yeah, Rhys and Az are here too."

You can hear the suspicion and jealousy creeping into Cassian's voice. "How long have you been in there? Why didn’t you call?”

“My phone is dead, remember? And I don’t know Tarquin’s password to make a call,” you explain quickly.

There’s a pause before Cassian speaks again, his tone tight. “I'll send Mor to help you out.”

You sigh, relief and anxiety mingling. "Thanks, Cass. Love you."

"Love you, too."

As you end the call, you glance back at Rhysand and Azriel, who are both watching you with a mix of concern and amusement. "Looks like Mor is on her way to rescue us," you say, trying to lighten the mood, though you can’t help but worry about your hair still being wet. She’d notice that right away.

"Better get dressed then," Azriel smirks. "Wouldn't want her to catch us like this." Rhysand chuckles, shaking his head, and you smile, the tension easing a bit.

"Definitely not..."

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙grandma & grandad | DR3 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, established relationship

warnings: just fluff, dumb jokes and random made up usernames 😭 not subtle at all

summary: in which you cause chaos in the f1 'finsta' community or in which your old man jokes backfire on you!!

a/n: this is chaotic and random and hell and idk what's happening tbh but yh. Literally No plot

request!!!: reader x danny but on their like priv accounts/finstas w the other drivers where readers like making fun of danny’s grey hairs and calling him an old man but in like a nice fun way yk? and the other drivers are just enjoying the chaos maybe playing along?

fc: renee rapp

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourfinsta posted a story

liked by charllec, maxxie33, and others

maxxie33 oh no not a danny/n reunion

yourfinsta you better keep quiet

maxxie33 yes ma'am

yourbff I LOVE YOUUUU

yourfinsta i love you! more🤨!!

honey3badger baby girl sweetest angel in the world

liked by yourfinsta

yourfinsta posted a story

liked by lnorizz, maxxie33, and others

charllec do you need me to call the cops y/n!!

yourfinsta no dont worry charlie 🙏 he's actually nice he's buying me dinner rn

charllec omg pulled 😂

gruss what is that‼️

yourfinsta omg george that's so mean....can you relax please?

gruss Urm

honey3badger posted a story

liked by maxxie33, gruss, and others

yourbff omg i jus lolled at this

honey3badger save me

charllec you guys need help

lnorizz she is scary...

sainzjr do you guys ever like hold hands and cuddle and stuff

honey3badger do we ever what?

pastryboy 📍 aus

liked by yourfinsta, lnorizz, and others

pastryboy we got to hang out with grandma and grandad

tagged: lily, yourfinsta, honey3badger

view all comments

yourfinsta omg delete that oscar you weird freak boy i look so trashy!!!!!!

pastryboy No

lnorizz you ARE trashy

yourfinsta when i next see you it's on sight

yourbff babygirl is not old!

yourfinsta thank you ! ! !

pastryboy perhaps ur right...

honey3badger neither am i!

yourbff keep dreaming

pastryboy no grandad

charllec isnt it time for your afternoon nap?

maxxie33 let him live in delusion guys

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

lnorizz posted a story

liked by honey3badger, pastryboy and others

honey3badger she's gonna be mad at you

lnorizz 😐

yourfinsta i thought we agreed to not call me this.

lnorizz we did??!

yourfinsta ur so fake

lnorizz get over it😠

yourfinsta

liked by honey3badger, maxxie33, and others

yourfinsta DICK PANCAKES

tagged: honey3badger

view all comments

honey3badger dick pancakes!!!

pastryboy dick pancakes

lnorizz dick pancakesss 🕺

sainzjr dick pancakes!!!

charllec dick pancakes.

maxxie33 dick pancakes?

gruss cock cakes

yourfinsta okay

gruss i hate you

honey3badger posted a story

liked by yourbff, yourfinsta, and others

sainzjr aww you finally posted something nice

yourfinsta omg thanks babe 😵

yourbff mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry.

honey3badger ????

yourbff what u want now

yourfinsta posted a story

liked by yourbff, charllec, and others

maxxie33 was i not invited

yourfinsta you ignored my texts.

yourfinsta COME NOW.

maxxie33 okay fine

yourbff posted a story

liked by yourfinsta, honey3badger, and others

sainzjr at least it looks like they actually like each other for once

liked by yourbff

charllec let's get y/n so drunk

yourbff good idea

yourfinsta you jealous or something

honey3badger

liked by charllec, yourbff, and others

honey3badger my drunk gf post

tagged: yourfinsta

view all comments

charllec how did she get so drunk

gruss it might've been when you were feeding her champagne, not sure though

charllec i think that was you

yourbff definitely was george

yourfinsta lol

lnorizz you guys are too old for this behaviour now

honey3badger you're on thin ice

yourfinsta watch your back 🔪

yourfinsta posted a story

liked gruss, pastryboy, and others

yourbff still hot tho

honey3badger 😍

lnorizz walk it off

yourfinsta stfu

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, danielricciardo, and 319,203 others

yourbff on main HAHAHAH

landonorris sorry did i trigger you this much

yourusername blocked and reported for spam

user1 who is this about y/n

user2 is this about lando and oscar always calling you old

charles_leclerc i know you're not talking about me

user3 LOL ILY GRID MOTHER

danielricciardo you're telling me!

yourusername run away together?

danielricciardo YES

THE END 🤍

[aventurineswife]

hi hi!! can i request hsr men (aventurine, dr ratio, and any of ur choice <3) with a s/o who is an over-apologizer? no need if u dont feel comfortable just in case but thank u in advance 💙

I'm so sorry!!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Over-Apologizing!Reader, Gentle Reassurance, Soft Moments, Emotional Support, Romantic Undertones.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, a devilish grin dancing on his lips as he watched you flounder before him, your hands wringing in an anxious motion. He couldn’t help but find your constant apologies both endearing and, at times, amusing.

"Are you... apologizing again?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching with a playful smile. You, blushing, nodded repeatedly, as though your incessant apologies would somehow make up for the minor mishap you'd caused.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you late. I’m so sorry I knocked over the coffee earlier—again. I can’t believe I did that. I promise, I’ll be more careful next time," you rambled, looking anywhere but directly at Aventurine, who was still smirking, seemingly entertained by your flustered state.

Aventurine leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement. "My dear, you do realize I don’t mind a bit of chaos, especially when it’s you causing it. You’re an over-apologizer, yes, but that’s part of what makes you... you. And I must admit, I enjoy seeing this side of you. It’s rather charming."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. You’d expected a scolding, not praise. Aventurine continued, his tone softening, though the smile never left his face.

"You don’t have to apologize for every little thing. I’m not the kind to hold grudges. If anything, you should only apologize when you truly mean it. Until then, just be yourself. I’ve already invested too much in you to let something like a spilled cup of coffee bother me."

You blushed at his reassurance, the knot in your stomach loosening. Aventurine’s words were always laced with layers of truth and care, though veiled in his typical flair. Still, you appreciated it deeply.

"Thank you..." you muttered shyly.

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "No need to thank me. But you might want to apologize... just once more. For making me wait so long." He winked teasingly, and your heart fluttered as you hurried to sit beside him.

Ratio had never been the most patient person. His brilliance was often paired with a sharp tongue, and he had little tolerance for those who didn’t meet his intellectual standards. But when it came to you, something about you made him pause and reconsider his usual cold demeanor.

You had once again apologized for something trivial—this time for knocking over a stack of books on his desk.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I’ll clean it up right away, I promise!" you said, frantically picking up the fallen books with an anxious look in your eyes.

Ratio watched you in silence, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of his desk. His eyes softened slightly as he took in your flustered state. You were always so quick to apologize, to the point where it almost seemed like you didn’t believe he would forgive you for anything.

"Enough," he said firmly, but not unkindly. "There’s no need for this incessant apologizing. It’s a simple mistake, nothing that requires endless regret. You can’t control every little detail, after all. The world is full of chaos, and you can’t simply apologize for every piece of it."

He walked toward you, his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t angry—he never was, not with you. But your over-apologizing did frustrate him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

He tilted your chin up gently with his finger, a gesture that was both comforting and commanding. "I care for you," he said, his tone softer than before. "I’ve seen you apologize for things you don’t need to. When you truly make a mistake, you’ll know it. And when that happens, we’ll deal with it. But for now, stop apologizing for things that aren’t worth it. It’s exhausting, and frankly, it doesn’t suit you."

You nodded, your eyes searching his face for any sign of mockery, but finding none. He was serious, and somehow, it made you feel better.

"Thank you." you murmured.

Ratio gave you a small smile, a rare sight for him. "You’re welcome. Now, let’s get back to those books. I have a new theory to test, and I need your help."

You smiled back, finally feeling like you had permission to just exist without constantly worrying about your mistakes.

Dan Heng's eyes narrowed slightly as he felt you accidentally step onto his tail. He stilled for a moment, trying to suppress his reflex to flinch, and before he could even process the situation, you were already profusely apologizing.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to step on your tail! Are you okay? Please don’t be mad, I—" you babbled, your face flushed with embarrassment as you fretted over the minor accident.

Dan Heng blinked, his tail twitching as he quickly recovered from the initial shock. His expression remained calm, but there was a faint furrow in his brow, and he could see the distress in your eyes. He wasn't the type to get upset over small things, but the way you were carrying on made him feel an odd mix of sympathy and a desire to reassure you.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said softly, his voice steady, but there was a hint of warmth in it that only you seemed to notice. "It was an accident. My tail’s fine."

Your eyes widened as you processed his words, still unsure whether to be more apologetic or relieved. But Dan Heng’s calmness eased the tension in the room, and you realized he wasn’t angry.

"It’s okay," he added, his tone a little softer. "You didn’t mean to, and it doesn’t hurt. Just... be careful next time." He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that made his usual stoic demeanor seem a little less distant.

You, still embarrassed, nodded slowly, the knot in your stomach loosening just a little. "Thank you, Dan Heng. I’ll be more careful."

Dan Heng placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his touch reassuring yet firm. "You don’t need to apologize for every little thing. Life’s full of accidents. Just... don’t overthink it."

For once, you could finally relax, knowing that with Dan Heng, you didn’t have to worry about constantly apologizing for things that weren’t even your fault.

[sexlapis]

i know requests are closed and im sorry but i need this so i dont forget 💖 actor!toji looking at edits on live and hes like “so yall see me like this” and the fans go wild

actor!toji on live!

okay i’ll make an exception once.

𝜗𝜚 actor!toji (x implied gn!reader)

sfw, crack, tiktok (bc that’s it’s own warning), suggestive, horny toji fans, toji has reading glasses, petnames (‘kid’) he’s a little rude but when is he not :), old man toji <3

〆(・∀・) : me after not writing abt actor toji for like a month 😊🤗

masterlists

actor toji masterlist

*

“hey, everybody,” toji said, waving to camera as if he didn’t fumble and struggle in front of his fans for the past ten minutes trying to get his phone to stand up securely. he looks cute, dressed in a navy blue hoodie with nothing underneath and his dark hair was a messy mop atop his head.

now he just sits in his chair at his dining room table, watching the viewer count rise and rise to absolutely ridiculous numbers.

“fourty thousan-fifty thou-sixty thousand?! didn’t know i had so many fans..jesus christ…”

honestly, toji had no idea what he was doing and he was a tiny bit nervous. this was his first ever “live” (something that he did not know even existed until you told him) and he had no idea how to entertain his fans or what they really wanted. but they seem pleased with him just staring at the camera in confusion and admiring his handsome face.

toji proceeds to read some of the comments in the rapid moving chat of chaos. here, starts the beginning of his own demise.

many comments are sweet, kind, praising him for his talent and acting skills, some were just spamming their country flags and names, a rare male fan is asking to see his guns collection, others asking about his upcoming projects but the majority of them are…not exactly PG in the slightest.

toji’s eyes could bulge out of damn skull at some of the explicitly and complete shamelessness of his fans. he knew they found him attractive, but this was a whole other level of depravity.

“what the fuck…” toji whispers in awe, mouth agape as his eyes scan through the chat, his eyes being fed with the most desperate and thirsty comments he has even read, “you guys are sumthin’ else…”

his one sentence just pours fuel on the, already blazing and large, fire, the chat moving so fast that is starts to lag.

“why’d i even speak..”

he actually takes time to read each comment that he can see (and stomach) and one of them catches his eye.

“watch your edits on tiktok? i have edits? what’s an edit?”

the chat blows up even more, commenters begging and begging him to watch these…edits.

“alright, alright, i’ll watch these “edits”,” toji says to the camera, before pulling out another phone, one that is clearly quite old, jagged edges and a cracked camera, a raggedy phone case and just overall not in the best condition it could be in.

“‘what is that ancient ass device’ eh? this is my main phone,” he replies to a comment, showing his phone to the camera to his fans can see, “‘s fine, works perfectly. and it’s not “ancient”. it’s actually a nokia. pft, dumbass kids.”

toji can feel himself being flamed in the chat. even more so when he pulls out his reading glasses.

“yeah, ‘m fuckin’ old. jesus.”

he squints, scrolling on his beaten up phone with his index finger, “y’know, ion even really use tiktok, i only got it so _____ can send me videos of whatever the fuck. i swear, that kid sends me a million videos per day..” toji sighs, smiling at the thought of you, “ahh, they’re just so dumb.”

toji, after a long time of searching through trial and error and directions from his fans, eventually finds the search page of tiktok.

“alright, what’d i type in then? just ‘toji’? ‘toji fushiguro’?” he looks for answers in the chat, but find himself getting frustrated at the lack of actual responses to his question. he tuts, “i’m just gonna search ‘toji fushiguro edits’ and see what happens.”

he does just that and the results are…very interesting.

right in front of his very eyes are miles and miles of edits of himself, created by his fans, their depravity exposed for him to see, some of who were probably watching him at this very moment.

“jeeeeesus christ. ‘dunno what i even expected, honestly,” he scrolls through them, audios changing constantly as he does so, his eyes wide and wondering, “i’m actually impressed…”

toji pressed on one, and he watches it, the edit flashing in the reflection of his glasses as he watches. his open mouth slowly turns into a smirk of amusement and all out disbelief, the audio of the video being something about… ‘needing someone older’?

“so you guys see me like this?” he asked, expression incredulous and he breathes out a small chuckle, “buncha little fuckin’ freaks.”

the chat seems to like that. a lot.

his chat is once again flooded with comments from hell…hell for people driven purely by lust, that is.

toji huffs, “how old is this person anyway?”

he seemingly clicks on the account and reads their username. well, almost.

“‘tojis little cu-woah!” he almost drops his phone out of his hand, jaw on the floor, “how old are you! sixteen?! toji looks to the camera, eyebrows furrowed before slamming his phone on the table and pointing at his fans through the screen, “go do your homework! and be in bed by nine. actually, no scratch that, eight! christ…sixteen years old, oh my god…”

he continues to mutter to himself, completely baffled at how some of his fans are so young and just so…out of their minds. his skin crawls at the thought of a sixteen year old liking him in such a way.

toji shivers, “god, where are your parents?” he questions and continues to search through the edits, before finding one that looks safe, innocent and PG.

he was proven wrong however, when the audio was a woman rapping about being put in full nelsons-

“okay, that’s enough!” he slams his phone down again on the table, “i’ve seen enough,” and then he reaches for the camera, not even caring about his viewers. he mutters a, “crazy fuckin’ kids” before abruptly ending his “live” and going to take a nap.

*

the next day, you have sent him over ten videos on tiktok, all of them being edits of him from the day of the live, most of them containing the clip of when he called his fans, quote, a “buncha little fuckin’ freaks” unquote.

toji sighs at them, secretly entertained that you must be watching these deviant edits of him too.

*

〆(・∀・) : no i have not forgotten abt actor toji

taglist: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000 | @morgyyyyyyy | @studiecoherence | @earth2fae | ce-namonreads | @ib4ryuguji | @hisjaegerist | @basiloverthyme | @sweet-kiwi | @sayitowshi | @iovemytoru | @thecompletechaosmaster | @sugutoad | @inumakiiz | @uzxotic | @1meshugge1 | @kunikuzushisbeloved (sorry some could not be tagged for some reason </3)

[tokyo-1842]

Heyo, could you write a oneshot with Sanji and a reader who he thinks is a man? Reader actually dressed like a man and deepens their voice, they used to do it as a defense mechanism on their home island but they've made it a habit and haven't found the right time to break the news to their friends. Maybe after a rough fight, Reader has very bad injuries and Sanji has to take her to Chopper and realizes Reader is a woman,, you can add whatever storyline you want after that, I'm so sorry my brain ain't braining rn and I really liked your Luffy one shot with the kitsune reader 🫶🏽

(AINT GOTTA TELL ME TWICEEEE)

Sanji x F!Reader

——————————————————————————

Sanji x F!Reader who dresses like a boy!, a little suggestive, reader gets hurt, smallll Angst, THATSS ALL FOLKS.

——————————————————————————

Long ago before joining the Strawhat Pirates. You dressed up as a man to stay safe on your island. Slowly became a habit. It kept you safe from horrible people but over time it just…became a part of you.

That habit affected your life on the seas. You see, the crew had different awareness’s and opinions of your Identity.

Some just didn’t care, like Luffy and Chopper because you’re one of the straw-hats who cares about gender! (Aww). Some knew like Nami and Robin. But one didn’t know at all which was Sanji.

To be frank you didn’t really care and only got a little jealous of the princess treatment the other ladies get from time to time.

Ok you really cared because it wasn’t fair they got ice cream while you’re working your BUTT OFF. But not to the point where it caused you to reveal your self as a woman.

So now all of the unfair treatment brings us to here.

“We are going on a trip with our favorite cool looking ship! Zooming through the seas!” Usopp and Luffy sung together, hold each other’s shoulders. They laughed and made up songs. Making your trip to the market place of the island insufferable. “Ughhhhhh….” You groaned rubbing your face. “Why did I have to come…” you muttered. “Because it’s your guy’s turn to restock! Maybe control your pal Luffy because eventually, we’ll go so hungry the ship will be eaten.”

The cook inhaled smoke from a cigarette and exhaled. “Speaking of restock, we are going to spilt up. First of all” “Sanji.” “Not now Y/N, Usopp and Luffy will get essentials-“ “Sanjiii…” “Me and you will get food-“

“SANJI THEYRE GONE!” You shouted.

…

“shit.”

“Dammit! We can never have a normal day with those two!” Sanji gritted his teeth as you two wandered around a marketplace. “Maybe they are at a food stall.” You said. “They better fucking be or else I’ll-“ “language!” You shouted.

BOOM!

“The marines! Pirates!” A woman shouted as she ran. “Hurry!” A man screamed. Many people ran and stores were being closed.

You and Sanji stood and watched the chaos. “I guess we gotta cut the shopping trip short..ugh..”

“Take their heads DONT let them get away!”A marine officer headed straight for the pair.

The fight was pretty easy. Just when the last few men stood Sanji dropped some items when blocking a hit. “Leave it!” You yelled annoyed. “No way! This is for Nami-Swan!”

He turned around to pick it up, now the cook was in the open and a marine soilder swung.

“SANJI!”

SLICE

Silence fell as you landed on the ground. Sanji turned in horror as he looked at you bloodied body on the floor. “Y/N..”

You were too tired to see what had happened but you know those marines regretted it. Sanji was carrying you back to Chopper. His heart was pounding, thoughts running through is head. The blonde reached Chopper’s infirmary and demanded immediate attention.

Luckily the injuries weren’t that bad and you only passed out from shock. It was a cut right under your chest.(I couldn’t write on your chest bc i felt the pain😭) The crew was relieved, you were told to stay in bed by Chopper since the wound could reopen. Everyone visited then Sanji came in to bring you food last.

“Y/N dinners here.” The cook muttered and place it on the table next to you.

The blankets moved as you stirred awake and sat up, showing the bandages on your body. They covered the upper half of your torso and wrapped nicely around your (tatas🤯)

Sanji jaw dropped as he gawked at your features, eyes going lower and lower. Your eyes, your facial shape, your (melons), your waist. “Y/N-chan, you’re a GIRL!! So HOT!” You blushed, his eyes turned into hearts as he swirled.

“But that means…oh…IM SO SORRY Y/N-SWANN! HOW COULD I TREAT YOU LIKE SUCH A MONSTER IM SO SORRY I ASSUMED YOU WERE A-“ Bonk! “CAN IT MORON!” Nami screamed. “but!-“ Bonk! “Y/N! Are you really ok with him knowing?” The orange hair woman asked concerned. “It’s fine with me…” “I WANNA KNOW WHATS UNDERNEATH!” “shut UP!” Bonk!

After a good beating from the Navigator you were chatting with the cook at around 11pm.

“Say..Y/N swan, why do you dress up as a man? You’re so beautiful this way!” He inquired. “Well, it’s just a habit. I did this a lot for safety in my home island” You answered. “Who could make my precious Y/N swan feel unsafe to the point of hiding her beauty!? I’ll kill-“ “It fine Sanji!” You giggled and he melted into a dumb love sick smile.

“Im so sorry for letting my guard down back there! I should have thought first.” Vinsmoke held your hands and stared into your eyes with sorrow. A gentle hand was placed on his cheek. “It’s ok I mean, im alive aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He blushed.

“Now I think we should come up with a punishment for Usopp and Luffy for causing this mess right?” You smirked devilishly.

“OH Y/N-SWAN YOUR SO CUTE WHEN YOU MISCHIEVOUS!~~~” The cook yelled at the top of his lungs.

“GET A ROOM!” Zoro shouted from the Crows nest.

“SHUT UP!” Nami screamed.

“FOOD!?” Luffy shrieked.

“SUPPPPERRRRRR!!!!” Franky bellowed.

“This calls for a song YOHOHO!” Brooked howled

“NOOO!!” Nami yelled in anger and disbelief.

——————————————————————————

I WASNT SURE IF U WANTED IT TO BE ACTUALLY DATING LOWKEY SOO- PHEW THAT WAS A LOAD I JUST KEPT ON WRITING AND WRITING TY FOR THE REQUEST ASK AGAIN ANYTIME!!!!

some gifs :)

HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT :3

[elizabethsnuts]

i dont know if you've written something like this but if not, do you think you could write something like how winterwidow would handle their toddler having a tantrum or something similar? Thanks!

Toddler Tantrums

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You are having a tantrum but Bucky and Natasha are there to calm you down.

———

Natasha paced the living room, her eyes never leaving your tiny, furious figure on the floor. You were in your terrible two-stage and were in the midst of a loud tantrum, your face red and tears streaming down your cheeks. You were sprawled out on the living room floor, kicking and screaming. Toys lay scattered around you like fallen soldiers, casualties of your wrath. Bucky and Natasha exchanged a knowing look as your high-pitched wails echoed through the compound.

Bucky was leaning against the doorway, his metal arm glinting in the soft light of the living room. He watched Natasha with a mix of amusement and sympathy. "She's got your stubbornness, you know," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Natasha shot him a look, her green eyes flashing. "Not helping, Barnes."

Bucky held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let's tag team this. You go first."

Natasha knelt down beside you, her voice calm and soothing despite the chaos. "Y/N, malyshka, can you tell Mama what's wrong?"

Your response was another ear-piercing scream, followed by a string of garbled words that were barely intelligible. Natasha took a deep breath, her patience unwavering. "It's okay to be upset, but you need to use your words, not your screams."

Bucky, standing a few steps back, watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. He remembered how Natasha had once handled much tougher situations with the same composed demeanour. Stepping in, he crouched down next to Natasha and offered you a comforting smile.

"Hey, baby doll," Bucky said softly, "I know you're upset, but we can't understand you if you're yelling. Can you take a deep breath with me?" He exaggerated a deep inhale and exhale, demonstrating for you.

Through your tears, you watched your father, curiosity momentarily overriding your frustration. You mimicked Bucky's deep breath, though it came out shaky and hiccup-ridden. Bucky smiled encouragingly. "That's it, good job. Now, can you show me what happened with your dolly?"

You sniffled and pointed at the doll, your little face scrunched up in anger and confusion. "She... she broke," You managed to say between sobs.

Natasha reached for the doll and inspected it, her trained eyes quickly identifying the problem. "Ah, I see. Her blankie came off, huh? But guess what? Daddy can fix it."

Bucky nodded, taking the doll from Natasha. "Yep, let's fix it together. Do you want to help me, Y/N?"

The prospect of helping your dad swaddle the doll shifted your mood from distress to cautious optimism. You nodded, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Bucky grabbed the baby doll blanket and laid it out on the ground, putting the doll in the middle of it. With you watching closely, Bucky swaddled the dolly tightly and smiled. “You know, I used to do this when you were a little, little baby.”

“Really?” You asked curiously as you sniffled.

Natasha nodded. “Really. It was to keep you all snug and warm while you slept, it stopped you from crying too.”

"There we go," Bucky said, handing the doll back to you gently. "She’s all warm now."

Your face lit up with a smile as you took the doll, immediately cradling it in your arms and rocking it back and forth. "Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, Mama!"

Natasha stroked your hair affectionately. "You're welcome, dorogoy. Remember, it's okay to ask for help when you're upset. We’re here for you."

Bucky nodded and kissed your cheek, letting you run back and play. He wrapped an arm around Natasha's shoulders as they watched you play contentedly with your baby doll. "You handled that like a pro," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Natasha leaned into him, a satisfied smile on her lips. "Team effort," she replied. "Just like always. But she sure is a loud screamer."

Bucky chuckled and nodded, rubbing his ears. “That’s for sure. At least we’ll know when she’s in trouble.”

Handling a toddler's tantrum was never easy, but Bucky and Natasha had faced far greater challenges together. Your tantrums were worth it for all the love you gave them every single day.

[impishjesters]

hii can you please do jax x shapeshifter reader hcs/short story (your choice)... like they dont have a "normal" form nn can turn into anything they wanted to i think thatd be cool /nf

warning(s): Jax, mentioned using someone's fear as a prank note(s): I wasn't sure how to list the prank, it's probably considered particularly cruel given it's using Ragatha's fear of centipedes as entertainment A/N: I think having the ability to shape-shift and be friends with Jax is such a violently chaotic blend, and honestly I'm here for it. Gotta get your fun somehow.

To be honest, Jax questions whether you’re actually a human or not at first

It wouldn’t be the first time Caine decided to throw something new at them, though usually it’s a game or activity and not another…person?

Like obviously you don’t look like the wooden doll NPCs, but you can just uh, change what you wanna look like?

He’s entirely convinced you’re just some fancier NPC for a hot minute before you start to react in a very non-NPC way

Those wooden dolls don’t particularly do much, and they sure as hell can’t speak

The first thing Jax tries to do is rope you into his messing around with the others—just think of it, you can turn into whatever you want which means even more hilarious possibilities for pranking the others!

Now if you aren’t like Jax and deny helping him, he’ll still find ways to use your shape-shifting abilities to his enjoyment.

Even if it doesn’t result in a prank, it’d still be hilarious to see you shift into something that ends up scaring someone else or just overall causing chaos to whatever awful domino effect might happen (I mean look at the Kaufmo situation, shit went downhill real fast unintentionally)

He’s not going to be aggressive or forceful but he’ll still throw out that the two of you would make a great team in entertainment

And if you like causing hell then this baby is just like a kid on Christmas, as mentioned above he’ll use your ability to shape-shift into things that’ll entertain him—and well by proxy you

Like the time you guys fucked with Kinger

He had you shape-shift to look like himself and engage in a convo with Kinger, and when the convo ended he came over and started up a conversation, acting as if he hadn’t seen the old coot in a hot minute. Kinger was very very lost—Ragatha didn’t find it that funny

Nor did she find it funny the time you turned into a large centipede-like creature and scared the ever-loving shit out of her

Okay maybe you felt a tad bad, and sure it definitely had her loathing you for a bit—but she’s definitely grown more on guard with you around

Overall Jax finds it kind of interesting that unlike them, you are able to sort of pick and choose what you wanna look like. The two of you no doubt spent hours just watching you cycle through and test just what kind of stuff you could change into.

Caine still isn’t sure how that happened to be completely honest, you’re an enigma to him and he doesn’t like that

Jax won’t say it but he’s only a little weirded out when you’ve made yourself look like him, he knows what he looks like—there are reflective surfaces, but it’s just…weird

[dunya99]

foreordainment

pairing — prince!gojo x reader

summary — the notorious prince has left the palace walls once again. on his adventures would he have never guessed a stunning woman would enter his life all thanks to the big mouth of a little boy.

wc: 2.4k

a/n: inspired by this drabble i made not so long ago. not accurately happening right after the drabble, this is mostly a fanfic with that same idea i had. enojoy!

the deserts night was no exception to the cold. all though in the day its heat petrifying, its nights cold rummages through your veins. satoru paid no mind to the nights chill, how could he? this is the only moment he found where he can carelessly wander the streets without his fathers knowledge.

satoru didn’t n understand why his father kept him away from the publics eyes, sooner or later hes going to be the next crowned king. how is he even supposed to know what the people want when he doesnt even know the people!

he sneaks his way through the palaces large garden and into his stable. grabbing his horse and something to cover his face, something that allows him to carelessly wonder the streets, choosing his fathers old green scarf.

strolling through the markets and towns, not leaving his horses back. all though night, the market never failed to die. the crowd was huge, people constantly pushing their way through and the loud noises of street advertising and donkeys only made the narrow street more agonising. he hopped off his horse, his hand held onto its rein, pushing it through the crowds of people, and children?

a group of children collected at the princes feet, their assumptions following he’s a warrior — danced around him with questions and awe.

“are you a warrior?”

“did you leave the battle field?”

“how many bad guys have you slain?”

he chuckled. all though one particular boy caught his eye. his hair was blond but if you looked close enough it’s undertone of pink was strong. his smile was so big and bright he swore heat was radiating off it. he was the boy jumping around asking him most of the questions. all though satoru didn’t answer, his excitement only continued to bubble, as if warriors are so cool they don’t need to talk. the boy rambled on and on about how he wants to be a warrior himself. saving the world the same way the king has and to fight alongside royals.

his excitement was so contagious that both him and satoru didn’t catch you shouting at the top of your lungs for that silly little boy to come back. satoru was so deep in his paradise of pride but the moment he saw you — his mind debated if he’s actually in heaven, meeting his hoor al ayn.

“yuji!” you trap the little boy in your arms, lifting him up. you look up at satoru and nod your head but yuji saw no end, continuing his ramble. “yuji say bye to the man before we leave.”

“noooooo i dont wannaaa!!!” you tsk while rolling your eyes, turning around and propping yuji on the floor.

“say bye to the man or else i’ll leave you here and you live with this man who sleeps in the sand and eats okra stew for breakfast lunch and dinner!” yuji instantly pokes out his tongue in disgust. quickly, you look up to the man slightly shrugging. “no offence.” satoru nods in acknowledgment. you’ll never know that satoru is smiling ear to ear hearing your light hearted and pure interaction with the boy.

yuji obliges, waving and saying his goodbyes and when satoru waves back, you scoop him into his arms and walk off. the urges to break his mute persona were strong, insanely strong. he wanted to call out for you, ask about where you’re from and what’s your name, but something tells him not to, his limbs remaining stiff.

the rest of his night was left finding a spot for him and his horse and watch the city’s chaos. a prayer repeated in his brain that you will return.

and it seems it was heard

after a long, tedious days training and listening to his fathers lectures about religion and the most forgiving, he'd sneak out of his palace chambers and sat at that same spot everyday. every star that twinkled in the sky encouraging his actions. one day though, while his eyes grew heavier and his head leaned comfortably on the stone wall next him, the shaking on his knee woke him right up.

what is the cause of his knee being shaken so rigidly? only to find out it was little boy he saw at the market the other day, his words and questions founding no end.

satoru only smiled as the pink haired boy practically jumped and twirled around him. he couldn’t help but notice you; standing not so far away, watching.

though no words exchanged between the two of you he respected that. he respected you being kept away from a man you know not much of, yet allowing the little boy to spread his infectious joy.

yuji rambled to satoru about all kinds of things — what he ate for breakfast, his adventures with his friends which consisted of him trying to ride a goat only to inevitably fall face first on the ground, and you. it didn’t take long for this big mouth to tell the man your his sister, and that you’re only allowed in the markets with a mahram, and in this case, a 5 year old boy.

before yuji spills what you do here in the markets, you sneak from behind and cover his mouth with your hand, offering satoru a worried smile. “alright yuji we should head home, no need to bore this man. he probably already has soooo much to do.” you should of had a better approach at that because yuji kindly welcomed you with him slobbering his tongue all over the palm of your hand, saliva dripping down.

“ewww!!! yuji!!!” you quickly jump back, wiping his spit on his clothes. satoru couldn’t help but laugh, your interactions always shocking him with how wholesome they are. yuji doesn’t pay any mind to your obvious disgust and obnoxiously waves his hand.

“bye byeee mr warrior.” satoru gives a little wave and the nod to his head, as if he’s baldwin iv. he watches you grab the boy back into your arms, scolding him for his immature behaviour and how you’ll use your fathers belt to hit him later tonight. the last thing he heard from the distance was a squeal for mercy.

never would he have expected this to be a daily occurrence.

a little boy shaking his leg the moment he sees him and being exposed to his radioactive energy. satoru started doing hand signals too, not being afraid of letting out a laugh here and there. when yuji would complain about you force feeding him beans satoru would look up to you, putting his hands into a heart shape and breaking. you’d roll your eyes initially only to later giggle. oh did those giggles temper with the princes heart.

everything about you tempered with his heart. your lovable sweet smile, your voice and your care. your care and love for yuji never went unnoticed. he noticed it ever since yuji first ran into him. you where worried about your brother running around and talking to a random man with a sword on his hip. yet now, yuji is attached to his hip. quite literally.

maybe for one day you could trust the strong man to keep an eye on your little brother. the market sang your name to come in and explore, how can you reject its captivating tunes? yet when you came back with bags and bags of scarfs, books, and painting supplies, you see yuji resting his head on the warriors lap, dozed off to sleep. the warrior payed no mind, a book in his hand that he only constantly turned the pages too, not grasping its context.

you quietly walk behind him, main for yuji but you couldn’t help but notice the (assumed) warrior next to him. all though you couldn’t see the man’s face you can tell his eyes drifted inaccurately on the page.

“excuse me, do you need help with that?” he looks over his shoulder to you. he slightly nods and raises it up for you to take. you put down your many heavy bags and sit beside him, flipping to the start of the book. you couldnt help it. normally if your father or mother saw you, you’d be cursed for even breathing the same air as a man you don’t know. you swear they’re over dramatic, using words like “purity” to further control you.

you clear your throat and begin reading. if there was one thing your parents did give you, it was the ability to read and recite. and you used it. it was rare for a woman to even know how read, and yet here you are reading to a man. perhaps he was breaded as a weapon, no time wasted on teaching him how to absorb the worlds arts and holy words.

when you finally finished, his eyes were stuck on you, or what you assume. something about his gaze hinted awe. perhaps he really likes this book. “i uh, i should really be heading back home now.” you give him a smile, handing his book back and standing to grab your lot of bags. when you turned back you see yuji, curled up and carried in the (alleged) warriors arms.

“it’s okay, you can just wake him up.” he shakes his head.

“i’ll help you. let the boy sleep.” you swear that’s the first time you heard him speak. it was nice, actually. something about hearing him speak made him seem more human than a moving mannequin.

“it’s okay, really. i appreciate your request.”

“i insist. i cannot continue to allow you to walk home alone in the dark night.” he was right. the markets that were once bustling where dull, the town fallen into slumber. i mean, once on your way home you almost got kidnapped!

“okay, but let me hold yuji.” he nods. you place the bags on the floor and he carefully transfers the sleeping boy into your arms.

you lead the way down to your house, walking past the died down markets and quiet towns all the way to the not so far farm land. the prudent smell of fertiliser made satoru scrunch his nose. a high contrast from the musk scent prominent within the palace walls.

finally arriving home you slowly creek open the door and turn back to satoru, putting your fingers on your lips and signalling him to be quiet. you both tiptoed your away inside, taking off your shoes in the most quiet way possible before walking on your fathers favourite red persian carpets.

you kept your steps light and he only watched, wanting to replicate your feather like steps. yet when you turned around cueing him to walk, his steps only caused the wooden floor to loudly creek. your thankful the snores of your father aren’t disrupted.

you creak open yujis door and gently place him on his bed, tucking the little boy into his covers. you see satoru, standing and not knowing what to do with the heavy bags stripped on his arms. you gestured to him to quietly place them on the floor. oh lord, ensure my father rather wakes up to an animals call, not the warriors attire.

“i want to sh—” you cut him off, placing your hands on his chest the moment you hear your fathers loud snoring stop to the sound of a loud cry of a goat. the fumbling and foot steps of your father mix with the loud beating of your heart. your heart so fast you can feel your pulse down to your fingertips. it’s so fast—wait is that him?

if only you could see the face covered by that green scarf. his cheeks so red it’s easily distinguished from his vibrant features. when you realised what you’ve done you quickly moved your hands away, a pretty pink rose on your face.

the moment the door closes you jump to apologising. “i’m so sorry, trust me i acted before thinking.” he only smirked, not like you can see it, especially since yujis room is so dark.

“shhh its okay, calm down.” he placed both hands on his shoulder, his additional comfort warming your heart. it felt… nice. and satoru could tell, his actions giving comfort only readies his heart to jump up all the way to the moon and split it in half again.

“now, what i was trying to tell you was that—”

the door creaked open again and you clover his mouth immediately. you swear in that moment you saw two angle in front of you. you refuse to move until the wood creaks come to an end. maybe it was your fight or flight — but when it all came to an end you realised you didn’t just cover his face from his scarf, but under instead.

you could feel small stubbles of a beard and his lips both mooshed against your hand. you quickly moved your hand away, cursing yourself. he must think your some sort of creep now! ugh! your self criticism was cut short the moment he moved his hands away and softly chuckled. “i should probably be heading out.”

“right. do you know the way? i can lead you back to the towns.” his smile deepened as he nods

“yes please.”

maybe this is an opportunity. the opportunity to finally show what he wanted to show for so long. when you both finally get out of the house as quiet as you can, you lead the way to the markets.

“by the way i’m so sorry i disturbed you so many times.”

“don’t be.” he assured, leaving your heart somewhat at ease. you shared a few moments of silence until the question that’s been bugging the back of your mind finally bubbles its way to the top.

“weird question but… what do you look like under the scarf?” he sort of stopped in his tracks, looking at you and you only turn back. you didn’t know if shock or amusement was presented on his face.

“want to see for yourself?” definitely amusement.

you swallow, taking a step towards him and reaching up to his green scarf, slowly lifting. wow has your breath been taken away. his eyes where like crystals, so blue they matched the fairuz rock on this ring. his structured face was so perfectly accented by a faint white bread on his face and his eagle nose so beautifully put together. you questioned yourself if another prophet has been brought down by the most mighty himself.

he smiled as your eyes dazzled all over his face, taking him in. he turned away, a faint colour of pink oh his cheeks. then it clicked.

“wait are you… are you the prince?” he turned back almost immediately, his crooked smirk only deepening. he took a few steps back.

“maybe.” he lowered his scarf once again, concealing the light underneath and walked off. you only stood there, watching him disappearing into distance, shocked.

[amomentsescape]

Heyyy darling,IM POLITELY BEGGING,for some stu and billy with feral ,hyper,punk gremlin s/o headcanons. Simply the boys trying to be as casual as possible so they dont get suspected for the previous murders but then they’re running around with their own little bundle of chaos. Im talking like a real troublemaker,just for the fun of it but always just watching all the drama happening,never being involved even though they caused it. For example: •causing misunderstandings in other friendgroups •cutting someone’s car wheels (or similar stuff) after they’ve been rude to someone in their friend group,maybe when gale didnt respect sidney‘s privacy in the first movie •S/O has a collection of anything shiny and glittery things they stole (from spoons to necklaces) just cause they like how it looks and they know it will cause some chaos. •Flirting with randy,tatum and stu to piss the boys off a bit •Oh or maybe billy getting them one of those vertical cloths or swings for their living room,I feel like that would fit cause billy would be a bit tired of his S/O letting their hyperness out on him. •When they come home from killing a bit later sometimes,they just find their s/o sleeping in the most uncomfy position (criss cross apple sauce type of shit) on their swing,drooling a bit,their body twitching every now and then

I dont know if any of this made sense my head is all over the place right now. <3

Billy and Stu (Separate) with Feral Gremlin Reader

Billy Loomis x Reader, Stu Macher x Reader

A/N: This was honestly so fun to write!

Billy Loomis

Boy, he didn't quite know what he was getting into when he first became interested in you

But he's in it for the long run, so here we go

Making Billy jealous is a common theme with you

Outright flirting, giggling, and dancing around with other people automatically makes Billy see red

But there's something about his possessiveness that you love so much that you keep doing it anyway

It almost always leads to a fight between Billy and the other party

And damn, isn't it fun to watch?

But that's not to say that you don't also feel your fair share of anger as well

Someone pisses you off even slightly? They're gonna regret it the next morning

Keyed cars, egged houses, graffitied threats

There is no limit to your creativity to get back at them

Billy simply huffs and puffs at you, berating you about being too "loud" with your actions

He's trying to keep things down-low by all means

And the last thing he wants is one of your actions getting him caught and put in jail

But there is something kinda attractive with how you stir up drama and give Billy some attitude

He doesn't like easy

He wants a challenge

And boy do you give him one

But on days where he simply cannot have you running amuck, he has you lay down in your own little hammock he bought you

For whatever reason, that always has you relaxed

It's like you become a whole different person with it

And Billy lets out a little "thank you" to the Gods each time he sees you just swinging away

He loves you, but damn, it's hard to keep up with you

Stu Macher

Stu on the other hand, is not phased at all by you

In fact, he matches your energy about 80% of the time

A friend pissed you off? You're both screaming and laughing while talking badly about them

Things are getting a little boring? You and Stu tell different people made up stuff that someone else is "saying" about them

You both love to stir up drama and watch how badly things can unfold

Stu is less concerned about getting caught than Billy anyways

What's even the point in killing if you can't have some fun outside of it?

So having you around is the perfect way for Stu to let out his hyper energy and keep things exciting when he isn't killing teens

But when he is out and about, he's thinking of you

You're probably at home eating all of his snacks in that moment, but he doesn't care

After his victims meet their fates, he is happy to dig around in their pockets and their homes, looking for anything even the slightest bit shiny to bring back to you

Nothing compares to the way your eyes light up at the gifts

Hell, you have a drawer in your room just filled with all things shiny and captivating

But Stu knows he'll have to wait until the morning to give you your gift

Because just about every night he comes home, he finds your head handing off the couch with your legs and arms splayed out, snoozing away

Remnants of chips and chocolate can still be found on your lips and fingertips

Stu secretly has made a photo album in his phone just for all the pictures he takes of you when you're sleeping

It's about time Stu had someone who met his chaotic energy