#hazel wants your advice

[witch-hazels-musings]

I'm moving into edits here soon! And wanted to get people's opinions on "speech tags"

I realize this poll doesn't allow for nuance or really context lol so feel free to send me an Ask too!! -- I'm curious what you all think about my current writing when it comes to dialogue and dialogue tags (action beats (he threw his hands up), and speech tags ("whatever," she said.))

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[faaun]

my research partner and i are huddled in a blanket in paddington waiting for a too-late train i already miss you and you and you

[betweenstorms]

The idea of getting a tattoo had always lingered in your mind and when the decision was made, there was no one you wanted to share that moment with more than Simon Riley.

When you first told him you wanted a tattoo, you hadn’t expected much of a reaction. Your boyfriend wasn’t the type to show surprise easily, so when he tilted his head, watching you with those sharp hazel eyes, it was as though he was quietly assessing, making sure you were absolutely certain.

He didn’t say much, he rarely did.

However, after a brief pause, he nodded, murmuring something about giving his tattoo artist a call, as if this kind of thing was second nature to him. And it kind of was. The man had a full sleeve of intricate tattoos decorating his left arm, the ink winding over muscle and scar alike. There was something about his easy acceptance that made you feel even more certain of your decision. You trusted him implicitly in this, he had the experience, after all.

On the day of the consultation, Simon was right there, sitting next to you in the small studio, his broad frame taking up more space than it should have, yet somehow blending into the background.

As you discussed the design with the artist, you couldn’t help but glance at your boyfriend more than you should have, as though searching for approval in his silent gaze. He caught your eye once or twice, but never said a word, his face unreadable behind his medical mask. He was older, wiser too, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of your choice.

The artist, though, picked up on your lingering gaze and chuckled. “You keep looking at him like he’s the one getting inked,” he said, the amusement evident in his voice. “This is your tattoo. Not his.”

You felt a rush of warmth creep up your cheeks, a little embarrassed but grateful for the reminder.

The artist was right, of course.

Simon didn’t give his opinion, didn’t offer advice, just stayed beside you, content to let you choose whatever felt right to you. That was the thing about him, he never imposed. He wanted you to decide, even when it came to something as permanent as ink on your skin. Even though a small part of you wanted to pick something you both liked, a matching tattoo in a way, but in the end, it was your skin, your story to tell, so you decided on what felt true to yourself.

When the date of the actual session came around, Simon was pulled away by an unexpected mission.

He left for deployment just days before your appointment, and though you missed him more than you’d care to admit, you went ahead with it. You were disappointed, of course, but you understood.

Still, as you walked into the salon alone, you couldn’t help but wish he was there, his steady presence a silent comfort. But even without him, you did it—got the tattoo you had always wanted. The session was long, the pain more than you expected, but there was a quiet pride that settled in you when it was over.

You had done it.

When you got home, adrenaline still buzzing beneath your skin, you sent him a picture, not really expecting a response. Simon's work took him to places where communication was often impossible, and it wasn’t uncommon for days to pass without a word. But this time, his message came almost instantly.

Can’t wait to see it in person. Gonna inspect that ink up close, love.

A grin spread across your face, a warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of him. His words carried a weight, a promise that sent a shiver through you. He may have been a soldier first, always coming and going, but in moments like this, you knew—he was yours.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[azsazz]

Letting Loose

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: How do you think daddy az and mommy reader would react if Zuzu went on her first date ever. Imagine how chaotic it would be, the whole family plus Rhys and cass’s fam stand behind her as her date walks up to her.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1880

Notes: I've missed the babies 💙💙

_________________________________________

“Tone the brooding down, mate,” you hiss to Azriel, who’s seething where he stands next to you. Azriel’s wearing that familiar face that screams murder, and his fingers keep twitching, itching to reach for the familiar knife sheathed at his hip.

To dispel the urge, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know the boy,” you tut, peering around the corner to where Zuzu keeps peeking out the curtains of the front bay windows of your home, eagerly awaiting her date.

It’s the quietest you’ve seen her, most nervous too. She’d allowed you and your second youngest, Malos, into her room while she prepared for the date, even letting you help her choose the perfect outfit. You could tell that Malos would have rather been anywhere else, goading Baz into a sword fight or Wren into chess, but even she seemed to sense your eldest daughters’ nerves. Malos even attempted to offer advice, which was quickly waved away by Zuzu, claiming that she hadn’t needed any advice at all.

An outright lie, because she stopped you on your way out the door, bashfully asking how your first date with Azriel went, her cheeks red with embarrassment from thinking about the both of you like that.

“Don’t need to,” Azriel mutters and you shoot a hot thrash of annoyance through your mating bond, berating him for his ill-willed words. You watch your mate flinch in his seat, looking up at you with those innocent hazel eyes and the look makes you want to roll yours. It’s accompanied by a cool feeling of an apology, knowing that if he doesn’t cut it out, he’s going to be in the doghouse tonight. “Sorry, my love. I just don’t like the thought of Zuzu…” He trails off like he can barely manage the word at all.

“Dating?” You question, eyebrows raised. Azriel’s eyebrows pull tight into a scowl again, quickly smoothing into that neutral stoicism that any of your children can recreate at the drop of a pin. It’s made figuring out which of the six was responsible for each mess they managed to get themselves into, but as their mother, you can see right through those masks they wear. You are married to the spymaster of the Night Court, after all.

“Please, don’t remind me,” Azriel groans, and he sounds like he’s taken an ash arrow to the delicate skin of his wings, which flex behind him. Such babies, these Illyrian males are. It makes you wish you hadn’t mentioned it to him like Zuzu pleaded you not to. “I can’t fathom it. She’s not old enough.”

You wish you’d requested the presence of Feyre and Nesta.

“She is,” you insist, keeping your voice low so your daughter doesn’t hear. “Your attitude isn’t helping the situation either, Azriel. Zuzu’s already a mess of nerves. Do you think that if she overheard you loathing the male that she’s smitten over that wouldn’t affect her in any way?” Maybe he’s hoping that it does.

“You’re right, my love,” Azriel sighs. He stands from his chair, crossing the room to where you stand and pulling you into his arms. “I’m just worried, is all.”

“Well, worry quieter,” you answer, squeezing him just as tightly. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the unsteady beat of his heart, riddled with worry. He has nothing to fret over, he’s made sure that Zuzu is better trained than any Illyrian warrior. Plus, she’s not even going on a date with a camp-goer, but instead a male born and raised in the heart of Velaris, whom you’ve heard nothing but good about. You might have done a little digging of your own when your daughter told you of this date, asking around town about the boy. Azriel isn’t the only sneaky one in your family. “If I had known how much you’d be sulking once I got to know you, I wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, shadowsingers,” An all too familiar voice drawls. You jump in surprise, fingers tightening in the back of your mate’s shirt. They clench for an entirely different reason when you turn, seeing not only the High Lord of the Night Court standing in your kitchen, but with the army of his family and the Lord of Bloodshed’s as well. “Are we too late?”

“Just on time,” Azriel responds, trying to keep his mask of cool in place when you pinch him with a knowing look. One night on the couch wouldn’t hurt, he supposes.

On a brush of night-chilled wind, the rest of your children appear, the shadows swirling around the twins’ feet noting them of their extended family’s arrival.

You don’t miss the look of yearning Asteria gives an unknowing Wren.

You can’t wait to see how Azriel and Rhysand will react to that.

“What are you doing here?” Malos asks, snagging a pear from the bowl in the center of the island. She hops up onto the stone and unsheathes her knife, similar to Azriel’s beloved Truth-Teller, taking the blade to the fruit and eating the slice straight from the weapon.

You grimace, not wanting to know the places that blade has been.

“We’re seeing your sister off, of course,” Cassian scoffs, “Not that it’s any of your business, little miss.” He teases, snagging the next slice of fruit from the tip of her blade with the ease of a warrior well-honed for centuries. Had he been a lesser general, the knife would’ve gone straight through his hand.

You don’t even have it in you to scold your daughter.

“It’s entirely my business,” Malos retorts with a glare. You know that look she wears, and before you can scold her, she’s commanding her shadows away from Knox and tripping her uncle on his way around the corner of the counter. Cassian isn’t quick enough to see it coming, smug in thinking that he’s had the last laugh, but Malos is never one to give up.

He crashes down with a yowl to rival a Helcat’s, and it isn’t long before Zuzu is bursting into the packed kitchen, her mouth agape, her hazel eyes furious.

“What is going on in here?” She screeches, scowling at everyone except for Asteria who immediately glues herself to Zuzu’s side in a reassuring hug. Your daughters face softens slightly as she embraces her best friend, but her face returns to that rivaling your own when you’re scolding your children when she turns back to the rest of the family. “What on the continent are you all doing here?”

She looks to you, helpless and embarrassed, and the only thing that you can offer her in return is a sympathetic, sad smile.

 In a family this large and tight knit, it’s inevitable that they’d pry.

“I think the real question is why are you wearing that of all things?” Baz teases, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter, looking like he’d rather be out on the town himself.

Normally, your children would go bat for bat with each other, but Zuzu must be more nervous than she’s trying to let on because her cheeks go crimson and she fists the long skirt in her hands, her eyes frantic. “What’s wrong with it? Is it too much?”

Her wings jostle at her back as if they’re begging to be shook, to expel the pent-up energy.

“Basil, go to your room,” you scold, ignoring your second eldest son’s groan of pain when Wren smacks him upside the head. You’re moving across the room toward your daughter, and you don’t like it either, the feeling of every single family members eyes on you as you place your arm on her shoulder in a consoling manner. “Zuz, come with me, baby.”

You guide her back into the front room where she was peering out the curtains in excitement only moments ago. Now, her shoulders are deflated, and her chin is downturned to the floor, hiding her sad eyes behind the draping black hair that reaches her waist.

It’s not a look you’ve seen often on your eldest daughter. She’s confident to a fault, but right now, she looks like she might just crumble.

“Don’t listen to your brother,” you say, sitting her on the plush loveseat and taking the spot next to her. You hold her hand in your own and when she refuses to look your way, you tip her chin up, forcing her eyes to yours. “He’s just jealous because he doesn’t have a date tonight and is stuck here, hanging out with your father and I.” It garners a short puff of laughter from your daughter. “You look beautiful, Zuz.”

“You really think so?” She asks, and you can see the lingering worry lining her iris’.

“Picked it out myself, didn’t I?” You ask incredulously, and thankfully, Zuzu cracks a smile.

“Mom,” Zuz whines playfully, cheeks tinging pink. Then softer, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Zuz. I’m sorry about everyone showing up unannounced but I can promise you that your father will be hearing about it,” you say, emphasizing your words with a flare down the bond and a glare at the shadows creeping in the corners of the room. They disperse quickly at your words. “All you need to do is go have fun.”

Zuzu’s grin is beaming, her hazel eyes shining with delight. “I really like him, mom.”

“I know you do, sweetie,” you match her smile, patting her gently on the hand. She launches herself into your arms, squeezing you tightly.

A knock on the door startles the both of you away from each other and when your daughter pulls back you catch the quick glimpse of her nerves again before she’s taking a calming breath her aunt taught her and collects herself, looking like the prideful daughter you know her as.

“You better go answer the door,” you muse, “Before your father or one of your uncles gets to it first.”

She curses, springing from the couch and is gone in a rush of wind, calling out to the house as she rips the door open, “Wish me luck! Love you all even though half of you shouldn’t be here!”

Before anyone can respond to Zuzu’s goodbye, she’s out the door. And just like that, she’s on her first date.

Azriel slinks into the room, collapsing on the couch beside you. He knows that he has some groveling to do, if your glare is any sign, but right now he just wants to wallow. This is much harder than it was when Baz went on his first date. And second. And eighth.

“I still don’t like this,” he mutters, peeking out from behind the curtain and watching your daughter walk down the street with her date. “I should send some shadows with her.”

“You should leave her alone,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, pushing from the couch. You offer your mate a hand. You can berate him later for his actions, but now that Zuzu’s gone, you can’t ignore your own feeling panging in your chest. The one where you realize that your children really are growing up, and fast. “And you should go entertain your guests.”

[waitingonher]

LOVER'S ROCK [h.o.o. characters in love]

percy jackson

memorizes your fast-food/gas station order. even if you didn’t ask, percy’s still gonna get you a lil something from wherever he goes. he has a shoe box that holds every single thing you’ve ever given him. may or may not still have the receipt from the restaurant after your first date. listens to the music you recommend him. usually, percy’s very opinionated about the music he listens to but he always gives yours a try. embarasses himself solely to see you laugh. yes, the time he dropped his ice cream cone into the hudson was on purpose.

annabeth chase

waits for you to watch the latest episode of your favorite show. annabeth will wait for you no matter what, even if it pains her to not know whether or not her favorite character just died. eases up around you. she appreciates not having to be completely on guard all the time. paints your nails for you. annabeth always finds it funny when she sees your non-dominant hand perfectly manicured while your dominant hand looks as if you did it blindfolded.

jason grace

annotates his favorite books for you to read. when it’s the occasional romance novel, jason writes “us <3” in the margin everytime the love interests do anything remotely romantic. gifts you a necklace with his initial. he smiles everytime he sees it resting against your chest. jason’s phone is entirely made up of you. his lockscreen, his home screen, his widgets…everything is you. jason randomly gives you massages. if you’re working on some school assignment he’d come up behind you and start massaging your neck and shoulders, getting out the knots you didn’t even know you had.

piper mclean

allows you to bypass her dnd. most of the time, piper’s on dnd so she made it so that only your notifications could bypass it. she does the chores you hate the most. even if she hates it just as much, she’ll do it just to see you happy. piper loves making those cheesy couple videos with you on tiktok. every day she’ll tell you how you two are basically tiktok famous?? piper only listens to you when it comes to fashion advice. yeah, she’ll acknowledge what others have to say about her outfits, but she truly only cares about what you think. 

leo valdez

loves you to the point of invention. you can’t even count the amount of gadgets leo’s made for you. he also comes home with little knicknacks made from spare parts of his projects. flowers made of metal scraps >> regular flowers. lets down his guard for you. leo doesn’t feel the need to keep up his happy, humorous persona when he’s with you. he lets you take whatever side of the bed you want. even if leo likes to sleep against the wall, he’ll let you because he knows it makes you happy.

hazel levesque

buys matching couple outfits. you two have your own pinterest board dedicated to your matching outfits. takes care of your hair. considering her own hair, hazel knows a lot about hair care. date nights where she oils your hair and washes it for you over anything else. ties your bows for you. she laughs when you finish tying the bow in your hair only to realize that the loops and tails are different sizes. wears matching jewelry. you two have lockets with photos from your first date. 

frank zhang

never the first one to let go from hugs. frank can and will stand there and hug you for the entire day if you want to. ties your shoes for you. whenever he notices your shoes are untied he entirely stops what he’s doing and drops to the floor, propping your foot on his knee to tie it. always gives you his food. even if you had said you didn’t want any, frank still shares some with you.

[talaok]

Keeping up

Pairing: No outbreak!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You convince Joel to go on a hike with you, but being that he's 56 years of age, he gets home barely in one piece, which means he needs a massage, which may lead to something more...

Warnings: age gap (reader's 25 and Joel's 56), a lot of sexually allusive jokes and stuff, and very soft and fluffy smut (unprotected p in v sex)

"Keep up, Grandpa!" you called, turning around and catching him taking yet another break.

He had his knee popped to the side and his hands on his waist as he pretended to take in the view while really just trying to calm his heavy breathing

He had fallen behind a while ago, but kept insisting you continued at your pace.

It took a lot of convincing to persuade him to go hiking with you, some unconventional, but definitely effective methods of persuasion were used, and finally, this morning, you had managed to make him cave in.

It was only a two-hour hike, but he was acting like he'd been walking for ten days and nights with no food and water.

"I'm coming!" his voice sounded through the woods.

"You sure?" You couldn't help but grin, watching his chest rising and falling way too quickly

"I just need a moment"

Letting out a breathy smile, you retraced your steps on the makeshift track to reach his side.

"Tired?" you asked, already knowing the real answer, and the one he was gonna give you.

"Nope" he lied, making you chuckle.

He was so predictable

"Ah" you hummed, mocking him "so you're choosing to walk ten steps behind me"

He turned to look at you, his hazel eyes sparking with mischief

"Well, I don't mind the view these leggings of yours are giving me..." he arched a brow as his hands reached for your ass through the fabric.

"perv" you smirked

"Yup, that's me" he nodded, bringing you in for a kiss.

He could never get enough of you.

He had no idea how he had managed to make you fall in love with him, and so he acted accordingly, kissing and touching you every chance he got in case one day he was gonna wake up and this turned out to be just a dream.

"at least you admit it" you joked, biting his bottom lip playfully.

Oh how he fucking loved you

"C'mon now, we're almost there" You smiled that stunning smile of yours that made him almost forget how tired he was.

"You said that an hour ago too, angel" he reminded you

"I did, didn't I?" you smirked, starting up the hill again, and leaving him behind to wonder how the hell he had ended up there.

But then of course he knew... his ability to say no to you seemed to disappear every time his cock was in your mouth.

__ __ __

"goddamnit sweetheart" he groaned, laying on the bed face down.

He didn't bother to change into his clothes simply because he couldn't, the towel around his waist was gonna have to do.

By the look of it, your advice of "A hot shower will help you out" hadn't really worked.

"Poor baby" you cooed, setting your book down on the nightstand to pay attention to him.

"I'm never hiking with you again" he sighed "I'm hurting everywhere"

"I'm sorry" You stifled a smile at his pained expression "Here," you said, getting an idea "How 'bout a massage?"

"Mh that does sound good" he considered

"Yeah?" you asked, getting on your knees beside him

"Yeah darlin'"

You smiled, as you gingerly straddled his hips, not wanting to hurt him.

You rubbed your hands together to make them hot and then gently pressed them against the very top of his broad back, slowly starting to make your way to his shoulders to rub his pain away.

He groaned in pleasure beneath you

"fuck that feels good" he breathed once you applied more pressure.

You chuckled "I've heard that one before"

"Mh, I'm sure you have, angel" he grinned, closing his eyes as you took such good care of him.

You smiled as you started massaging his lower back too, drawing circles with your thumbs and relaxing his muscles one at a time.

"You're really good at this sugar," he spoke, as his hand found your right leg and started caressing it slowly to try and pay you back a little bit.

"Why thank you" Your lips pulled into a smile "I'm a woman of many talents you know?" you murmured sultrily, bending down to gently press a kiss to his neck.

"I know that very well, darlin'"

"Good" you nodded, finishing up his back "Now turn around"

"Yes ma'am" he obeyed immidately once you got off of him, just to climb back immediately once his back was on the mattress.

His heart couldn't help but skip a beat at the sight above him.

You looked so fucking sexy drowning in that shirt of his, and the fact that he was pretty sure you only had a pair of panties underneath it, only made it worst for him.

You didn't seem to notice the way he was practically eating you up with his eyes as you started massaging his chest.

God those hands of yours deserved their special place in heaven

He watched you biting your lips to concentrate as your fingers made all his pain disappear for just a moment.

Suddenly, he noticed a smirk splitting your face as you looked up at him.

"I see somebody isn't as tired as you" You raised an eyebrow before gently rubbing your core against his growing bulge.

"oh fuck" Joel breathed heavily 

"Sweetheart..." he murmured pleadingly as you did it again

"What?" you teased

"Trust me I'd love to fuck you right now, but I'm afraid that if I move one single muscle I'll have to go to the emergency room"

The chuckle that left your throat sounded more like angels singing to Joel.

"Who says you have to move a muscle?" you asked mischievously, as your hand slowly reached for the towel around his waist, undoing it in one swift move.

"Oh darlin'" he grinned lazily, "I'll never know what I did to deserve you"

You laughed softly at how happy he looked, before getting rid of his towel and taking his cock in your hand.

He was throbbing already

You stroked him a few times before you let your fingers find your panties and quickly pulled them to the side.

You wasted no time sinking down onto his length.

Giving him this massage had worked you up just as much as him.

his groans merged with your moans at the motion

"f-fuck" you muttered

No matter how many times you had sex with him, your pussy never really got used to the stretch.

"goddamnit darlin', you feel so good" he breathed

You smiled down at him before deciding to take off your shirt.

You didn't want it to get all sweaty...

He groaned even louder at the sight.

Your perfect tits bare before him, your perfect cunt hugging his cock so well, your perfect mouth parted as you sucked in ragged breaths, and then finally your perfect blown-out pupils staring down at him like he was the most handsome man on earth.

You were a fucking vision.

"fucking christ angel-" he growled as you started moving up and down his shaft "Look at you" he whispered, not able to stop his hands once they reached for your waist "How are you this fucking perfect?"

You just let out a breathy chuckle, continuing to bounce on his cock.

God, it felt good.

He always managed to hit that spot inside of you that made you feel better than anything else.

Your nails clawed at his chest, no doubt leaving some scratches, not that he minded... he loved when you marked him up.

Suddenly, you sped up your movements, making him tighten his hold on you

"Jesus Christ sugar" he groaned "How do you still have any energy left?" 

I mean every muscle of his had given up even trying, while you... well while you still had the energy to ride him like a damn pornstar.

And he would have liked to say this was the first time something like this had happened, but the truth was that the difference of age between him and you had made itself heard more times than he liked to admit.

He wasn't a teenager anymore, his back wasn't the same, his stamina wasn't the same, and you... Well, you were the exact opposite.

You were unstoppable, and fuck but you were insatiable

Before you, Joel got laid maybe once every six months, and now he found himself having sex at least twice a day.

Not that he was complaining obviously, it's just that he sometimes still wondered how the fuck you managed to pull it off.

"That's what being 25 will do to ya" You smiled, leaning closer to him to kiss his neck

"Mhh" he hummed, as one of his hands reached upwards to grab your tits "You're saying I'm old?" 

The soft sound of your laugh tickled his ear 

"I'm saying I'm young" you answered, rubbing your nose against his beard until his mouth was right in front of yours and all you needed to do was kiss him.

One of your hands had to grab at his shoulders as you felt your orgasm approach.

"oh fuck baby" you breathed, ghosting his mouth

"you coming?" he asked, watching as you shut your eyes, lost in pleasure.

"mh-mh" you managed to nod, before you hid your face in the crook of his neck and bit down onto whatever piece of skin you could reach.

"That's a good girl" he praised as his left hand found your butt and gave it a good squeeze "Give it to me angel" he urged

And without another word, you did, squeezing him and making him come just as you were coming down your own climax.

If he had to be honest he had been close since you had taken off your shirt.

"mhhh" you hummed satisfied, as you leaned away a little to look at him.

His lips looked way too delicious, so for good measure, you met them with yours for a brief moment.

"goddamnit sweetheart, you're gonna kill me one of these days" he smiled, gently stroking your sides

"Yeah..." a mischievous smirk erupted from your lips "and that day might be today"

"What are you talking about?"

You grinned

"Ready for round two cowboy?" 

[ultravioletrayz]

TELL ME WHERE IT HURTS (18+)

Pairing: boyfriend!logan howlett x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, very mild mentions of blood and injury, a bit of angst if you squint really hard, dryhumping, illudes to smut but doesn't happen

Summary: despite his healing abilities, it's in your nature to want to help and dote on logan, and he happens to know one way you can do exactly that

A/N: this is pretty short and shitty, might make a part 2 with actual smut

Battered and bruised after a particularly rough day, Logan sits lethargically on your shitty, patched up couch, thick legs spread wide enough for him to relax, but not all the way to accomodate for your form sitting on top of his lap, wiping away clumps of dirt and droplets of blood from his head and chest.

You're constantly pestering him to take better care of himself, especially when he gets into fights or goes on missions. He finds it adorable and endearing, but he's too smug to really listen to your advice.

"That little rag of yours isn't doin' much, hun." Logan chuckles softly, contradicting his own words as he leans into your touch, the damp cloth cooling his sweaty face, his tufts of dark, thick hair brushing against the tips of your fingers as his hazel-coloured eyes stare up at you.

"It's better than nothing." You huff, one hand holding Logan's firm, toned waist for stability while you tend to his wounds with the other. Unlike him, you can't seem to find the humour in the situation quite like he can. You hate seeing Logan constantly putting himself in unnecessary danger just because he's got the mutation to withstand it. You hate that he constantly feels the need to test that goddamn theory.

Logan sighs, not wanting to push his luck by making another cynical remark. He bounces one of his legs out of impatience, wanting to just enjoy being at home without constantly being reminded of how his mutation and the expectations that come along with it are killing him. But, his brooding mood is quickly interrupted when the faint, all too familiar scent of your arousal suddenly fills his senses. That tangy, slightly sweet, intoxicating aroma has the ability to distract Logan from practically anything, like some sort of drug that he's absolutely hooked on.

His gaze drops to your open thighs, your clothed pussy pressed right up against his crotch, and its obvious that the movement of his bouncing leg radiating through your body on top of his own is affecting you. Your grip on the rag has tightened and your hips are ever so slightly rolling against Logan's pelvis, but of course he's noticed.

"Y'know what, bub? I think there is something you can help me with after all..."

the logan brainrot is messing with me rn so I must share my thoughts

[mcuamerica]

His Job | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You get fired from your job but it just so happens your Shadowsinger is always there to comfort you. (Requested by anon)

Pairing: Azriel x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: losing a job… fluff… that’s about it!

You were exhausted as you walked into the townhouse. After spending all day busting your ass in the museum archives, looking for a tiny piece of paper your boss needed for an “important” meeting, you were called into his office. He did things like this all the time. He made you run around the museum, city, Cauldron, even the Court sometimes, just to find one specific artifact. And chances were it was in his office or on loan. Which would have been logged properly if you were allowed to do your actual job and not just be an errand creature.

You never complained, though. You loved your job. You loved being around the old Fae artifacts from thousands of years ago. Granted, a lot of it wasn’t in great condition. But that was what you wanted to work on. If your boss ever let you.

You would air your frustrations to Azriel every week, over wine. He would do the same to you about his job. It was therapeutic. And it never came with advice on how to make it better or how to improve it. It was a simple venting session.

Tonight, you were going to act like it was wine night. You were at the edge of tears.

You loved your job. You loved everything about it other than the few tasks your boss had you run around for. And even that normally ended in you learning something new. But when your boss invited you into his office today…

“I’m letting you go.” He said simply, not even request you sit down.

You blinked, waiting for him to continue. “Letting me go… home?”

“I don’t care where you go… but don’t come back here.” He said.

“Sir… I’m sorry… are you… are you firing me?” You asked.

He barely glanced up from the papers on his desk when he responded, “Yes. Please leave.”

So you packed up your belongings from your desk and left. And came here trying to hold in your tears.

“Sweetheart? Are you back… Hey, what’s wrong?” Azriel’s soothing, concerned voice traveled down the stairs.

“I- I…” I took a shaky breath, needing to tell him before you broke down and he went to kill anyone you came in contact with. “I got fired.” You said, letting out that long-awaited sob.

Azriel frowned, pulling you close to his chest when you almost fell down. “Oh… sweetheart I’m so sorry.” He whispered and stroked the back of your head, pulling you tighter to his chest.

When your sobs had subsided, he pulled away slightly. “Let me take care of you. You want a bath?” He asked, his hazel eyes still concerned, but full of love. With a nod from you, he picked you up and carried you to the bathing room. He set you on the counter as he filled the tub and then poured some sweet smelling oils into it. He helped you undress before lifting you again and setting you in the tub.

Next, he undressed, getting in with you. “Just relax baby.” He whispered, your back to his chest. You relaxed into him, a small smile coming to your face as he grabbed a sponge to wash your body. He gave you a back massage, whispering sweet nothings into your ear whenever he hears a small sniffle from your nose.

And then he helped you out, wrapping a fluffy towel around you as he grabbed your favorite pajamas: one of his t-shirts (that no matter what was always way too big for you) and your favorite sweats.

He led you back downstairs, made your favorite tea, and set you on the couch. Then he told you about his day. He babysat Nyx until an hour before you came home. And, you learned, Elain brought your favorite cake over. Something about sending that you would need it.

So you had tea and cake… and when the tea was gone, you had wine.

You were slowly starting to drift off with your head in Azriel’s lap when you heard him mumble something. “What was that, love?” You asked quietly.

“I never liked your boss anyway. You deserve better.” He whispered, pushing your hair out of your face. Your eyes fluttered open, smiling when you saw the love in his eyes again. All directed to you.

“Oh yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah… and now you can come work for the project I’ve been talking about.” He said. “Rhys wants to start collecting artifacts for the library in the House of Wind… a separate area more like it. I think you would be perfect to direct it.” He said.

You smiled up at him. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” You asked. “You made me so relaxed I’m falling asleep.”

A small smirk played at his lips. “I know how to wake you up a bit,” he said, leaning down to nip at your neck.

Your giggles filled the living room as Azriel had one thought float through his head.

He did his job.

[svearehnn]

sunlight in burgundy | azriel x reader

Summary: Velaris is a place of healing, so no wonder you ended up at the House of Wind. However, you didn't expect to be welcomed by a gentle male and a leather-bound book.

a/n: i don't know what this is!!! just wanted to write and this came out. enjoy!!

Mahogany doors greeted your view, colossal and menacing, hiding anything and everything from your sight. With a deep breath and shaking hands you pushed the doors open. Sunlight greeted you, seeping in from rounded windows that seemed to take up the whole wall. They were open, their burgundy curtains fluttering in the wind. You took in the room with wide eyes, noting the shelves of books, the greenery hanging from the ceiling and winding around the furniture, the matching chairs that held a figure. A sharp breath entered your lungs as you noticed him, his hazel eyes already tracking you. 

“Hello,” he murmured, voice crackling like wood on a fire, his thin, leathery wings shifting ever so slightly as the word left him. You stood still like a deer in the eye of a hunter, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Of course, the first time you dared to leave your room since you were saved and you had to come across another soul.

“Um,” you stuttered, voice stuck within your throat. “Hi.” His lips curved up in a slight smile, thumb marking his page as he shut the book he was reading.

“How are you?” You took a miniscule step backward, your gaze never leaving his form, hackles on high alert. He wasn’t a threat, you knew that, yet your body reacted otherwise.

“Um,” fell from your lips once again. You blinked slowly, eyes darting down to the book in his hand before landing back upon his face. He followed your line of sight with a quirked brow and a gentle expression as he shifted in his seat, bringing his book up from his lap.

“Were you looking for one of these?” You nodded and swallowed the lump that had settled in your throat before taking a tentative step forward, despite your body screaming at you to run away. He became molasses as he stood, his movements smooth and still in an attempt not to spook you.

“What kind of book are you looking for?” One glance over your shoulder at the doors led you to the knowledge that they had shut behind you and that it would not be a quick escape, but for some reason, your frosted heart was starting to warm. You did want a book, after all. Maybe taking his advice wouldn’t be so bad.

“I just want a, uh, a book.” Your voice came out weaker than expected, a wince taking over your body at the softness you were displaying in front of this winged stranger. He didn’t comment on it, though. Rather, he nodded, and the shadows that seemed to surround him moved. A gasp fell from your lips without consequence, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you watched them disappear down the aisles of books. When you glanced back at him, he was still watching; observing you, looking for something, but you didn’t know what. 

“I control them.” He spoke, jolting you out of your bewilderment. “I am a Shadowsinger.” You hummed, no words slithered up your throat, just awe. You had never met a Shadowsinger before. To be fair, you had actually never met a winged fae before. There were a lot of firsts happening for you in this moment.

“W-what do they do?” You whispered after a beat, catching the shadows in the corner of your eye as they came back to their master with something in hand. He smiled softly, just a tilt of his lips as you’ve seen before, and he took the item from his shadows’ cool grasp.

“They tell me things. Intel, mostly. They also help with moments like this. Here.” He held out the item, and now with the sun shining down on his glove-clad hand, you could tell that he was holding a leather-bound book. “It’s one of my favorites.” You nodded, eyes flitting between him and his outstretched hand. 

There was still a decent amount of distance between the two of you–distance that you were afraid to make disappear. However, if you wanted that book and the safety of your room back, you would have to move forward. You took a step toward him, and then one more, heart rabbiting in your chest as you extended unfounded trust to this unknown male. He waited patiently, head bowed, but his eyes never left your face, as if he was physically unable to look away. With a quivering hand you reached out and swiftly snatched the book from his outstretched hand and cradled it to your chest. His eyes twinkled as he let his arm fall limply down by his side.

“Thank you.” You murmured, gaze downcast, picking apart the threads in the ornate carpet that adorned the rustic wooden flooring.

“You’re welcome.” He responded, his voice warm and comforting, drawing you back in. With your line of sight connected once again, his mouth opened and he uttered his name. “I’m Azriel. And you are?” 

As you took a step back, your name fell from your lips on an exhale, fingers tightening on the spine of the book almost painfully. With a nod of your head you turned and beelined it for the doors, opening one just a crack so you could slip through. The sunlight and the breeze of Velaris faded away as you hurried back to your room to begin reading your new find, however, the mysterious male seemed to occupy your mind more than the book that he had handed to you. Maybe that chance encounter was not chance at all, but rather fate that bubbled deep within the Cauldron alongside a whisper of your names.

[cowboy1ikereid]

the archer ~ s.r.

‘Dark side, I search for your dark side, but what if I'm all right, right, right, right here?’

Summary: When you focus so much on wanting to care for Spencer that you begin to lose yourself, and he notices.

Warnings: fem!reader x post prison!spencer, references to ptsd, reader bottles up her emotions and needs a good cry, spencer confronts her and then comforts her, a tiny bit angsty but mostly comfort, established relationship, spencer is a sweetheart who just wants you to communicate with him, reassurance, pet names (honey/sweetheart), reader is the archer coded, inspired by the archer by taylor swift

Category: Angst x Comfort

Word count: 1.3k

Author's Note: This is my first ever one shot/fic that I've ever uploaded, so please be kind and I hope you enjoy!! Feel free to leave me any advice. ily <3

It had been four months. Four months since Spencer Reid had last set foot into the BAU. Four months since he had been arrested in Mexico and sent to prison. Two months since you had seen him during the visiting hours when it was your turn.

He’d looked so worn down. Completely broken, and it broke your heart. You never imagined seeing him like that. Not the nerdy, sweet and intelligent man you’d loved so dearly. He became an entirely new person, but you didn’t treat him as such. You’d been your bubbly, cheery self as always. The happy mask slipped onto your face almost too easily considering your boyfriend was in a maximum security prison, and Spencer knew that. He knew you weren’t being genuine, but he didn’t have the energy to call you out on it. When you’d returned back to your shared apartment after the visit, you’d broken down that night, sleeping in his shirt and drinking from his favourite Doctor Who mug. He hated it when anybody else used his plates, cups or cutlery, but with you, he never seemed to mind… not when he was around, anyways. It was no different to a kiss, you’d supposed.

But that was two months ago. Now, Spencer had been free from prison for a month, and he was still adjusting to normal life. He was constantly on edge, and he couldn’t take showers by himself anymore. Not unless you were there. Whenever he ate, he wolfed his food down like he was afraid somebody would take it away - like somebody was about to tell him that lunch time was over. His life had been completely flipped around when he’d gone to prison, and you’d wanted to make sure everything was the same when he returned home. You wanted his surroundings to feel familiar. No more unnecessary change. But you were starting to think it wasn’t working.

Trying to keep so happy all of the time was taking a toll on you, but you were trying to do it for Spencer. He had enough on his plate, and the last thing he needed was to deal with your struggles, right? You thought that he was too absorbed with his own issues to notice yours, which you’d decided were much less serious in comparison, but he had noticed the darker side to yourself that you tried to keep under wraps.

You were reading a book on the sofa, glasses perched on the tip of your nose, hair thrown up into a ponytail and one of Spencer’s sweaters hanging off your frame when he approached you. 

“Honey?” He said softly, sitting down next to you on the sofa and drawing your attention from your book. You looked up to him quickly, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you hummed in response. “Can I talk to you?” He continued, placing a hand on top of yours comfortingly. Just from his tone, you could tell it would be a serious conversation. One that you weren’t sure that you were prepared to have, but you accepted anyway. If he needed you, you’d be there for him. No matter what. 

“Of course. Anything.” You nodded, unintentionally releasing a deep sigh.

"Are you okay?" He said simply, his hazel eyes showing concern. You bit your lip, unsure of how to answer. He was a profiler, after all. If you lied to him, he'd be able to tell instantaneously. But you didn't want to worry him. That was the last thing he needed right now. You didn't trust your words, and so you nodded sheepishly, not seeming too sure. You used to vent to Spencer all of the time before he went to prison, but now you were aware that he had problems of his own to deal with, and to you, your own seemed far less important in comparison, so you bottled up your feelings and acted like you were fine, even if you weren't.

Truth be told, you didn't even know why you felt so down. It had just been a tough few weeks with Spencer returning and being so different, but that wasn't his fault. Life in general was catching up to you, and it was exhausting.

"Words?" He sighed, "Look, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. You know that I won't make you, but.. I'm worried about you, okay? I know that you're not okay, and I'd appreciate it if you could stop acting like you were." Spencer said, with warm eyes and a soothing tone. Somehow, he always knew exactly what to say, and it always managed to surprise you even though he had an IQ of 187.

You didn't want to talk about it, not right now. You weren't ready to. But you were fully prepared to remove the mask that you'd been wearing in front of him for months. You looked to the side, and then back at him with your bottom lip trembling, not wanting to speak and instead letting your actions do the talking by shifting towards Spencer and leaning into the warmth of his body, where he opened his arms and wrapped them around you tightly, resting his head on top of yours so he could smell your sweet vanilla scented shampoo. Some things never changed. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, and he could feel the dampness of your tears that you were finally able to let loose.

The dam had finally burst, and you cried it out. You cried it out in Spencer's arms for a good half hour, and he let you, whispering sweet nothings and stroking your back comfortingly, not letting you go.

Eventually, when you were ready, you pulled away slightly but not fully, one of Spencer's arms still around you as he looked down at you, your eyes swollen, red and puffy. Your cheeks were tear-stained, but he was quick to wipe them with his thumb.

"Are you ready to tell me why you've been bottling up your emotions lately?" Spencer asked, although he had an inclination as to why.

You sniffled and nodded, wiping your runny nose with the sleeve of your sweater Spencer's sweater. It was probably gross, but he'd seen you at your worst, and this wasn't even close to it.

"I'm sorry, okay? I just.. I-.. you've had so much going on lately, and you don't need my problems on top of your own-" You said, but he quickly cut you off.

"Don't say that," He shook his head, "I will always be here for you to talk to. I don't care if you think I have too much going on, okay? That isn't your decision to make. We're in a relationship, sweetheart. I understand that you're trying to do what's best for me, and I love you for that, but what we have is mutual. That means we share things with each other. We communicate our feelings with each other. You don't keep them bottled up just because you think that what you're doing is right. I know that I've been through a lot in these past months, but I don't want us to change because of that." He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his words soft-spoken and gentle, like he always was with you.

You let out a teary chuckle. "You always see right through me."

"I can see through almost anyone, honey. You can't bottle up your emotions forever with a profiler as a boyfriend." He teased.

You smiled a little before your tone grew insecure and serious once more.

"...you're sure you don't mind?" You asked, wanting reassurance.

"Of course I don't," He kissed your forehead and pulled you in for another hug, resting his head on top of yours once more. "All of these problems we have... we can work through them together. One step at a time. It's us against the world."

[ilylovelyz]

papa!ushijima who just very much falls in love with his daughter.

ushijima never really was much of a family man, his own parents being divorced and having no siblings growing up.

he didn't even really want kids, but you ended up pregnant anyways. it's not like he was against it, but it's also not like he also planned for it either.

so he was really just 50/50 in all honesty.

but you seemed to want a baby, so he went along with it for your sake. not like he would want to force you to go for an abortion either, he'd never force you to do such a thing.

he went along with the whole thing, not really wanting a specific gender, nor did he really care about the baby's name.

but for "your" sake, he would find himself ordering books and information about babies and childbirth, looking up baby names on his phone and asking for parental advice.

he felt a strange feeling inside of him when days passed and your baby bump grew.

it made him feel "fuzzy", that's the best and only way he could describe it.

it's love at first sight when she's born.

he doesn't know what took over him, but he just felt so.. at peace when he first held her. she was so small within his arms, so helpless and dependent on him.

the moment she revealed her dainty hazel eyes, similar to her father's, he just felt the air get sucked right out of him.

she was just so precious and warm, small and dainty.

the baby scared him at first, because he didn't know what to do with it.

it took awhile, but he eventually was learn the smallest of details about her, mindful even though she probably didn't even know about her own existence.

you slept soundly at night, every night, occasionally waking up when you felt you slept for too long, walking into the nursery only to find ushijima in the rocking chair asleep with the baby snuggled against his chest.

he would find his eyebrows furrowing when he realized a year had passed in a flash, much against his will.

suddenly, his babygirl is walking, and babbling little incoherent words along the lines of "papa!" or "mama!"

he followed her around like a worried dog watching their owner, following wherever her little curiosity led her.

he hated seeing her cry.

his chest would tighten up whenever she would reach for him with a runny nose, fat tears running down her soft cheeks because one of her favorite toys broke.

she's lucky her father is a top-star athlete who doesn't bat an eye when he's spending almost 500$ on toys.

he gets a little dumbfounded when she chooses a remote as one of her favorite toys though, over a 500$ toy.

but nevertheless, as she got older, her walk become a little more faster and had more distance away from him than he preferred.

he'd watch from a distance, the corner of his lips upturned into a soft smile at the way his daughter attempts her first spike.

so prideful that he's created something so amazing and special.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine being worried for Mihawk and Shanks…

Shanks pressed a kiss to your neck before taking a stand. He moved to where he kept his favourite duelling blades and opened the chest.

The warmth of his lips lingered against your skin, leaving a smile behind. As the rest of the crew busied themselves with their captain, offering pieces of advice that Shanks would only listen to.

You looked at Mihawk. He waited silently with the utmost patience for a Warlord. It always amused you. Standing up, you walked over to him noticing the way he avoided your eyes, casting them over the open ocean instead.

“Try to go easy on him.” You requested, coming to stop before him.

Mihawk huffed. “I hope you told him the same thing.”

“I will, don’t worry.” You countered. “As much as I enjoy these duels, I don’t think I could stand to lose either of you.”

At first, you disliked Mihawk’s presence casting a shadow on your carefree life. But over time, he became a trusted friend and a lot of it was through Shanks convincing you that he wasn’t a ‘bad guy’.

“Alright, Hawk Eyes. Enough flirting with my human.” Shanks teased as he approached. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. “Have you decided where you want to admit defeat?”

Mihawk rolled his eyes at the cockiness. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

You watched the sword-pirate leave for his ship and the reality of the situation finally settled in. Shanks saw the glimmer fading from your eyes and he squeezed gently.

“Hey. It’ll be alright.”

“The last time you said that I almost lost you to that psychopath Bellamy.” You were quick to remind.

His fingers crept under your shirt and traced simple patterns on your skin. It could soothe you from any mood but today, it was struggling to work in Shanks’ favour.

“And I’d risk it again if kept you safe.” He said. “That’s what this deal with Mihawk is.”

You turned and looked up at the man. His hazel eyes always shining against the red hair. “I wish you didn’t have to. I mean, I know you both need to make it look good enough for the World Government but,” you leaned forward and pressed your head against his chest, “it always scares me.”

Shanks wrapped his arm around you and chuckled. “Would it help if I told you that Mihawk agreed to be at your beck and call for the rest of his life if he killed me?”

The thought made you smile a little. Mihawk would certainly not fight to kill Shanks with his freedom on the line.

Shanks saw the upward curve of your lips and pressed a sweet kiss into it. “See? I’ll be fine.”

~ More imagines here ~ (for more One Piece)

[luvrrszn]

hopeless devotion

JAMES POTTER x FEM READER

summary you are hopelessly devoted to james potter

warnings angst, fluff, bad writing, idk honestly, probably inaccurate hp facts,...???!/2/21

a/n guys it's actually been SOOOO long since i've written plz go easy on me i've missed writing so much but i've just been awfully busy :( anyways hopefully this won't be a catastrophic piece of writing!!

masterlist

the very day you met james potter, you had your eye set on him.

however, what started out as a friend-crush (you know, when you really really want to be friends with that one kid in your science class), eventually turned into a full-blown crush.

throughout your years in hogwarts, you became good friends with james, eventually becoming one of his best mates. however, as the years went by, you still never managed to muster up enough courage to confess your feelings to james.

so you decided it was enough to just stay by his side.

you were there when he developed a massive crush on lily evans. in fact, you were the one who gave him advice, and you were the one who cheered james up after lily rejected him for the seventh time. you were there throughout it all, even though it broke your heart.

you decided it was better to just stay friends, even if it hurt you to your core, than to be nothing at all.

—

"i won't be around this weekend. i'm going to hogsmeade with lily. she agreed to something casual." james declared, grinning as he sat down across you.

the thoughts in your head came to a halt. you didn't hear the chatter of the students in the dining hall anymore, completely stunned by james's sudden announcement.

you were swiftly brought out from your trance when sirius starts talking directly into your ear.

"oi, are you going to hogsmeade this weekend?" sirius asks as he sits down on your right, shoving bread in his face as he spoke.

"yeah, i'm going with evan." you reply, focused on reading the mail your beloved owl had brought you. in an attempt to force yourself to get over james, you had agreed to a hogsmeade date with evan, who was your potions partner.

even remus, who was seated on your left, turned to gape at you. sirius spoke incredulously, "rosier? evan rosier, that prick?" they were both shocked at your casual mention of the blonde slytherin boy.

"yes, evan rosier. and don't call him a prick, siri, he's actually quite nice."

“yeah, yeah. before you know it you'll be begging us to get you out of that date." sirius replies before going back to shovelling food into his mouth.

you peek at james, and his face is expressionless, jaw clenched. you can't read his face, but you figure he must be annoyed at something else.

because there's no way he's jealous that you're going on a date with even. right?

—

the weekend rolls by.

you go to hogsmeade with evan, having drinks and talking at the three broomsticks, buying sweet treats at honeydukes, walking around the area.

as the sun starts to set, you and evan decide to head back to hogwarts. on your walk back, evan's hand brushes against yours, and he takes your hand.

you fail to notice james and lily, walking behind you.

james has his hazel eyes are fixated on your hand resting in even rosier's.

—

"c'mon, what was that?" james grunts, a hint of annoyance hanging in the air as the two of you enter the gryffindor common room. evan and lily are long gone, even back to his own common room and lily off with her friends.

"what're you on about?" you reply, taking off your coat as you slump into the comfy sofa.

"you and rosier. what's up with that?" james huffs, his annoyance becoming more and more evident with each word he utters.

"there's nothing much, jamie. jus' went out for the day, that's all." you reply, sitting up a little straighter.

"c'mon, just spit it out! were you tryna make me jealous, or what?" he snaps.

you let out a laugh, "make you jealous? how could you say that? after all these years i've been by your side, helped you with lily, even when it broke my heart to. so if i'm finally moving the fuck on, the least you could do is be happy for me!"

shocked by your outburst, you immediately stand up, grab your coat and bolt back to your room. you slam the door behind you, slumping against the door.

you feel the eyes of everyone else in the dormitory on you, but you can't even process it, consumed by the realisation of what you'd just admitted.

—

for the next few days, you keep your distance from james. partly because you're still embarrassed by your sudden somewhat confession, but mostly because you wanted to stand your ground.

you thought that if he wanted to apologise, he would.

throughout the days that you avoid james, he tries to approach you multiple times. after potions, during lunch, even after his quidditch practice. all times, you manage to find one of your friends nearby, immediately beelining for them.

however, you still talk to remus, sirius and peter. you decided that whatever tension you had with james would remain between the both of you.

"c'mon, you've gotta talk to him. he's been mopey all week. and really grumpy too. and it's aaaaaallllllllll because of you." sirius grumbles, poking your shoulder as he sits down next to you in the common room.

"you're just being dramatic, siri. right?" you reply, turning to remus, hoping that he would tell you otherwise. however, you're disappointed when remus says, "nope. this time, he's actually telling the truth."

"hey!" sirius shouts, indignant.

"you gotta do something, please. he's always pissy." peter chimes in.

you sigh, getting up from your seat, "fine, I'll see what i can do."

you make your way to their dormitory.

—

you knock on the door softly, before opening it and sticking your head in. james is lying on his bed, back facing the door.

"christ, can you be any louder? get what you need, and get o—" he pauses when he sits up and realises it's you. he falls silent, letting out the softest "oh" you've ever heard.

"hey, what are you doing up here?" he asks softly as you kick off your shoes and sit down at the foot of his bed.

"i wanted to talk to you, if that's okay." you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater.

his sweater, actually. he lent it to you a year ago, when you felt cold during lunch. you liked it so much, you never returned it. he never asked for it back either.

for a second, james looks shocked. then he replies, "y-yeah. of course."

"i'm sorry i've been avoiding you lately, i just wasn't ready to talk yet. and i was embarrassed too, y'know. that wasn't exactly how i'd planned on telling you. but anyways, i just want to let you know i don't have any expectations. i think we should just go back to normal, if that's okay with you." you calmly explain, trying to remain composed, even though your heart is beating so fast you think it might actually explode.

an awkward silence falls between the both of you, and you can tell james is trying to collect all his thoughts before he speaks.

he runs his hand through his hair before saying, "christ. i've liked you for the longest time, i still do, but i thought i never had a chance. you were always too cool for me, y'know, and you still are. hearing you admit that you were trying to get over me, it made me so confused. i didn't know if you wanted anything to do with me anymore, let alone like me back. that's why i didn't do anything to try and "win you back". y'know?"

he rubs his arm, looking sheepish as he stares down at his bedsheets.

"i still like you, jamie. do you still like me?" you whisper.

he moves over, taking your face into your hands. he presses his lips onto yours, kissing you harder, and harder, and harder. and boy, do you kiss him back.

when the two of you finally break apart, you're breathless.

"so, is that a yes or a no?" you grin.

"it's a yes, you little twit."

[mahtharula]

✧･ﾟ— nailtech!connie headcanons

starring: nail tech!connie x black!fem!reader wc: 627 cw: purely fluff 🫶🏾

nailtech!connie was the tech all of the girls wanted to book with. yeah, he knew how to get your hands right, but everyone wanted to book simply to get a closer look of the man. from his dyed buzz cut head that always had a different design every time you came into the shop, to his tall, to the tattoos that decorated his arms and hands perfectly and his eyes. oh his hazel eyes is what gets them.. but most importantly, his nails! 

nailtech!connie is both a great listener and conversationalist! Honestly, he should add being a therapist to his qualifications because the amount of advice he has given his clients is insane. most of the time, they complain about their man and his line is, “you too pretty to be dealing with that.” (which have the girls swooning out of their minds).

nailtech!connie who definitely plays music during his appointments. of course, he caters to his clients preference of music and rocks from there, but baby if you give him the aux you will be far from disappointed. his music is so diverse, it ranges from partynextdoor to bossa nova, depending on his mood. his main goal is to make the client comfortable, so when booking with him he has a section where he asks if you want a talkative or silent session.

nailtech!connie who learned to do nails after watching his aunt  do it for some time. at first, he only learned to expand his creativity as an artist since he dabbled in many mediums, but once he got the hang of it he was hooked. as he continued  perfecting the craft  and posting his work, two  years and a half later he had enough money to rent out a studio and widen his client intake.

nailtech!connie because of the overwhelming number of clients who began booking with him since the opening, trying to squeeze in new clients was a tricky task. most times, connie would be booked for weeks making it hard to even get a taste of his talent on your nails. so when his homegirl was begging for him to do her best friend's nails, all he had to say was that she was lucky one of his regulars canceled. 

nailtech!connie was absolutely floored when you walked into his studio. of course, he catered to many women due to his career, but something about you just had him stuck. from your smooth, dark skin to your locs that ended at the middle of your back, your plump lips that revealed a pearly white, gem decorated smile. you were like a dream personified. As you were explaining your vision for your nails to connie, he was trying his very best to focus but your scent of shea butter and florals was distracting him, “you paying attention, con?” “huh? yeah, yeah, i am!”

nailtech!connie trying to learn everything about you. from your favorite foods to what you do as a career, all of it. when he found out you were a rapper, he only wanted to go harder pulling out some exclusive charms he was saving. something he did love was how despite giving him an idea of what you wanted, you basically gave him freedom to present your idea into his vision, which he absolutely loved.

nailtech!connie who kept refusing to take the full payment and insisted on giving you a discount (because he can). after a few times, you finally convinced him to take the payment, but asked if you could become a regular because his work was so good. it only took a flutter of your lashed extensions for the man to fold,  but he only had one rule: don’t cheat on him.

✧･ﾟ— author’s note • hey y’all!! i hope this was good, i’m super proud of it but please give me feedback 🙏🏾. do y’all want more nailtech!connie? do ya’ll want more connie & y/n 😗? let me know and i appreciate y’all, until next time 🖤

tags : @yourrfavzxri , @theemrsjaeger , @hqkalon , @1h3artm3

[unboundprompts]

I don't know if you've done it yet but could you do hazel eyes, preferably hazel green?

No rush though, love your page 💞

Different Ways to Describe Hazel Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

His eyes made them think of the woods behind his old house: not just the green of the leaves but the rough brown bark that used to scrape his hands as he climbed the trees as well.

Their eyes were the color of spring and the memory of autumn.

She had the most interesting eyes he had ever seen. They held the sweetness of honey and the softness of pastures after a heavy rainfall.

The brown elements in their hazel eyes were more dominant, complimenting the freckles that dotted their nose.

His hazel eyes had never held such hatred until now.

She had soft, hazel eyes. A warm brown with an inner radiating golden sun.

Their hazel eyes were both the sunlit branches and the moss that clothed the old oak tree.

Her eyes reminded them of spring. Irises like the forest floor that stretched over the roots of trees and the plants and flowers that sprouted from between the cracks.

He had eyes like the sea and the wet, sharp rocks that lined the edge of the cliff. The center was all rock, a harsh brown that spread out to waves of greens and blues under an angry sky.

Their green eyes were flaked with gold.

She hated to admit that he had beautiful eyes. They were a soft hazel, with waves of browns and greens and golds that mesmerized her. The warmth of his eyes however, did nothing to change the impression she had of him.

Behind their hazel eyes, he could tell they were hiding something. It reflected in the greens and golds of their irises.

Her eyes were the same colors as the bracelets on her wrists. He watched the golden metal with the blue and green gems clang against one another as she talked with her hands.

They had never imagined that hazel eyes so beautiful could look so sad.

His eyes mirrored the ground of the cemetery and the blue sky that looked down on them.

She had eyes like watercolors, blues and greens and browns swirling together to paint an incredible scene.

They had eyes that painters could only ever dream of capturing in their art.

Words could never describe the incredibility of their hazel eyes, but he was damn well going to try.

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[billthedrake]

FAMILY LAW

The father was about my age, with thinning hair mostly gray and a silvery five o'clock shadow to match. He seemed uncomfortable walking into my office, which was my first giveaway.

The younger man with him was clearly his son, same face, same nose, same hazel eyes. He was a strapping man, tall and big, and his athletic hoodie made his large body seem even bulkier.

"Mr. Drake," the dad said as he extended his hand for a handshake. "I'm Pete Grubienski, this is my son, Mike" The man lacked his son's muscle but he was naturally beefy and his big mitt of a hand had a strong grip.

"Hey," Mike said, his voice deep for his age yet friendly, and his handshake was surprisingly a more normal grip.

They sat down in the leather armchairs.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" I asked.

Pete started in. "You may recognize my son," he said. A knowing look on his face.

I looked over at Mike Grubienski. He was a very hot stud, if I could appraise him without being too obvious in my lust. My husband always made fun of me for a weekness for big muscle, and this Grubienski stud had it in spades. His daddy did too, in his own way.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid, I don't."

That got a smile and a laugh from Mike. "Dad just likes bragging, Mr. Drake...."

"Bill," I interjected.

"Bill," he said. "I just signed to play for the Bengals. A pretty sweet contract."

"Congratulations."

Pete looked over at Mike with clear paternal pride before he remembered his business. He got a more serious look and turned to me. "Everything here stays private, right?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Grubienski."

"Call me Pete," he said. His turn to insist on a first name basis. "You have an NDA form to sign or anything?"

I had a confidentiality agreement and slid two copies his way.

As he looked it over, Mike smiled at me. I couldn't tell if he was sizing me up, or just tried to be as relaxed as his dad was uptight.

Pete signed and dated and slid them back to me. I did the same.

That seemed to calm him and I could see his beefy body relax into the chair. "We want you to draw up a financial agreement," Pete said. "As Mike told you, he has a good deal of signing bonus and more coming his way, so I..."

I stopped him mid sentence. "I'm happy to advise you, gentleman, but you might want to talk to a financial planner instead."

Mike spoke up. "We're actually looking for something more unconventional, Bill," he said. "We got your name from an internet forum."

Pete's hazel eyes lit up. "One of those forums you really have to search for... what do you call it? The dark web?"

Mike laughed and reached over and squeezed his dad's shoulder. The son had about three inches of height on his father, which was strangely hot. "It's not that bad," he said. He turned back to me. "But yeah... when we read about you, I figured it was worth the flight out here."

I was getting a boner in my trousers. I figured this is what it was like being a cameraman for a porn shoot. An occupational hazard.

"For the right clients, I do specialize in some unconventional sides of the law."

"I didn't believe him," Pete said. "But Mike has an instinct."

"How unconventional?" Mike asked, a twinkle in his eye. I wasn't sure if he was being flirty or still wanted conversation. With clients like these, no one ever came right out and said what services they were looking for.

"Enough to get me disbarred," I assured him. "But it's a labor of love." I paused. "I've very much used many of the legal strategies I advice clients on."

"Like...?" Pete asked.

"Marriage contracts, surrogacy, adoption..."

"That's hot," Mike hissed, reaching down to pay the bone he had growing in his jeans.

"So we can talk freely?" Pete asked.

"Please do," I assured him. We were getting to that part of the consultation. Something about being charged my hourly rate will sometimes get men to brass tacks faster.

He turned to Mike with a look that could only be described as pure love and patted his son's knee. "I'm in a relationship with my son." He turned back to me and added, "We don't have any official thing of course, but in our eyes we're married."

"We can address that," I assured him. "Not official marriage of course, but a contractual bond that has all the other legal recognition." I spread my legs beneath my desk to let my hardon ride up in my suit. "I can speak from experience that there's something incredibly exciting about signing the documents together with your husband."

Mike got a real quiet, horny look on his face. Pete grinned. "Yeah? You speaking about your son... or...?"

"My son," I admitted. "Adam. We've been married for eight years."

"Wow," Mike hissed. He ran his hand caressingly up his father's neck. "Dad and I have only talked that way for a couple of years. But it feels like he's been my my whole life." He paused, embarrassed. "Not like that, Bill... but you know, emotionally..."

"I get it," I said. "I'm the same way with my dad."

Pete laughed, a nervous laugh but also an amused. "That's fucking wild." Then, "pardon my French."

"We're men here, Pete," I said. "Feel free to speak openly."

"That we are," the father said with a naughty look on his face.

It was Mike's turn to bring it back to business. "So, Bill... we're looking for some legal arrangement where Dad would have complete control over my money."

"A financial power of attorney?" I clarified.

"Yeah," Mike enthused. "A mega one," he said. "I don't know the legal options, but I want Dad to have full control."

I looked over at Pete. His son's hand was still on his neck and the big guy was relaxing his body back into Mike's touch. "The kid gets off on being given an allowance. It's kind of his thing."

I'd dealt with some wild stuff, but this was a first. I tried to choose my words carefully. "Just to be clear, gentelmen, certain powers of attorneys can be open to financial abuse..."

Mike stopped. "We've talked this through, Bill. Dad and I each are into control. It's very much consensual." He leaned in toward Pete. "You wanna show him, Dad?" he asked.

Pete nodded and stood up. I watched him undo his jeans and shuck them down. There was no underwear. The man's dick was fully locked in a chastity device. He gave me a good look then pulled the jeans back up.

"Too much?" Mike asked me, trying to read the blushing look on my face.

I shook my head. "It's just that I never thought I'd find chastity devices a turn on."

Pete laughed. "Me either, buddy... but with this one..." he turned to his son. "It's been magical."

"So..." Mike asked. "You think you can help us?"

I nodded. "I believe so."

****

"The babysitter here?" I asked, pulling my son into a kiss and pawing at his body through the button-down shirt. Adam wasn't an NFL player like Mike Grubienski, but he'd played football in high school and still kept up his workouts and bulked up even as a stay-at-home dad.

"She's in the other room," he whispered. "Jesus, Dad, you're not even gonna wait for date night are ya?"

I pulled back. Adam could see the chub in my suitpants, which I'd have to get under control if I wanted to be more presentable. "I had some special clients today... guess I"m a little worked up from that."

"I want the full story," my son said. "What you can share."

"Of course," I said.

I went to say hello and good night to our two children. Chase was 8 now and Jackson 6. We'd had all by surrogacy - Chase was from my sperm, Jackson from Adam's. But they were both our sons, together.

I gave our babysitter Caitlin her pay and slipped in a couple of extra twenties for good measure. She was terrific. I mean, she thought Adam was a single dad and I was the grandparent helping raise two rambunctious boys. It was a lot of work, but my son and I had learned to put on a good front.

"Ready?" I asked Adam as I saw him waiting in the entry hallway. God, my son looked like a million bucks. He was 24 and still had that youthful, athletic build that had bulked out some more over the last couple of years. He'd inherited some of my dad's blond features, and I thought my son looked like the best of me, only better.

"Yep," he said. Stepping up to me, he ran his hand along my suit lapel. "You look good, babe," he hissed.

We gave each other a soft kiss. Date night sex would have to wait.

***

"They're getting big," I said to my son as we drove to the downtown hotel.

Adam nodded. "I like this age. They're less of a handful now."

Something made me more contemplative. I think I got that way anytime I had an incest client. "You'll be young enough to enjoy life still when they're out of college."

Adam patted my knee. I thought about the casual physicality that the Grubienskis shared. It had taken me a long journey to be comfortable with that part of incest. "Come on, Dad, you will be too."

"I'll be 65," I said. "66 even."

My son-husband shot my that look he gives when he disapproves of something I'm saying. "Look at Granddad. 70 and living his best life."

"Yeah," I said. I was in quiet mode now

Adam seemed pouty in response. "You have regrets, Dad?"

I looked over at him. "You kidding, buddy? I wouldn't change a thing."

"Even though we have to sneak around?"

"Even though we have to sneak around," I assured him.

My son ran his fingers along my thigh as I drove. I gave a grimace. "What?" he asked.

"You're giving me a boner," I said gruffly.

He chuckled. "What's wrong with that, Dad?"

"We'll be in public. At least for dinner."

"Just hold your suit coat over the damn thing," he growled, his annoyed tone not masking the amusement beneath the surface.

Two could play at this game. "You don't want people to see what an incest hardon looks like? How my son always gives me one?"

I could see him squirm in his seat. "Fuck, Dad...."

"What time's our reservation?" I asked, horniness in my voice.

"7:00," Adam reminded me. "We wanted to make sure there was plenty of time after."

I nodded. I reached down and unzipped my suit pants. "Why don't you help me out buddy?”

THAT caught Adam off guard. He was used to be the impetuous one when it came to sex. But I was reaching in as well as I could while driving, fishing out my hard dad cock.

"Help me out here," I urged.

"You said that wasn't safe to do," he said. “Not while you’re driving.” Busting my balls.

"I'm you're fucking dad," I growled with a playful grin, eyes carefully on the road. "Now get down and suck my cock, Son."

I didn't do the dominant daddy thing much, but when I did Adam went wild.

Too wild. I don't know if my son sucked me too roughly while he gave me road head, or if it was going to get me off too quickly. Either way, I decided I didn't want my first cum of the evening to be like this. I nudged Adam's head off my cock, still trying to focus on my driving.

"Call the restaurant," I urged. I don't know if I was being dominant or just urgently horny. "Tell 'em we're running ten or fifteen minutes late."

Adam nodded as he sat back up, redid his seat belt and pulled out his phone. He did just as I'd asked, then hung up. "You don't really believe in romance for date night, do you, Dad?" he teased.

Already, I was pulling off to a deserted parking area that was generally safe. We'd used it before when we were desperate.

"Leave it to my son to be a cock tease," I joked back.

"Who raised me?" he asked.

I parked the car. Adam was already getting out and opening the back seat. Since the second son arrived, we'd upgraded to an SUV. The backseat wasn't huge, but it was enough room...

"You forgot something," I said, reaching into the glove compartment to pull out a nondescript container of lube we kept for quickie sex. I tossed it into the backseat before undoing my own seat belt.

"I thought you'd use spit, Dad.... you're pretty fucking worked up."

"Fuck," I growled and and got out. I walked around to the other side. Adam had already undone his khakis and slid them down mid thigh. I love my son and would love his body no matter what, but damn that ass was incredible. His life as a stay at home dad still afforded him an hour of solid workout a day, and Adam had made sure to prioritize leg day. I ran my hand along the lightly furred rump and dug my finger into the cleft.

"It's been a long week," I said, teasing the pucker. We'd gotten in a blowjob session midweek, but no fucking made us both cranky.

"Yessir," Adam replied.

I crouched down, right there in the dark corner of the parking lot. Hoping to god no one would come by, but with the layout Adam and I had a good chance of hearing an approaching car. And our open SUV door was facing the lot's edge rather than toward the center.

"Fuck yes, Dad," Adam hissed as my tongue made contact with his ass. He was the one who'd gotten me into rimming. Turns out he'd created a Franksenstein's monster. I slapped and gripped his cheeks and munched away. Drilling into the hole he'd prepped for me before our date night.

We didn't have long to play with though, and Adam nudged my shoulder with the lube container.

I pulled back and stood up. My prick was still poking out of my suit, rock hard even if my son's spit had dried off. Time to wet it down again for my boy's dicking. It didn't always go this way, me on top, Adam on bottom, but it increasingly had. Over the last two years, Adam had gone from a man comfortable with getting to an outright power bottom. Turns out I felt comfortable doing the fucking in the marriage.

I now fingered his ass quickly and watched him gyrate those muscle cheeks. Maybe it was date night, maybe it was my own impetuous approach, but my boy was in heat.

No need to keep him waiting. I lined up and hunched my body over as I pushed inside my flesh and blood.

"Yes!" Adam hissed. We knew we had to keep our voices down but the verbal part was a turn on for us, even after these years. "Fuck me, Dad. Fuck your son."

I was, with deep powerful thrusts. I loved Adam and the mindfuck of entering him urgently like this, in steady rhythm, made me know it wasn't going to take me long to cum.

Adam, for his part was jerking off while I railed him. "God, you get turned on whenever you have a special client," he said.

Talk about perceptive. I didn't even put two and two together, but the boy was right. I was still keyed up from earlier. "You should have seen em son," I growled. I knew not to divulge too much detail about my clients, but this was Adam. I could trust him. "Big strapping NFL player partnered up with his daddy." My voice was getting ragged and urgent.

"Was the dad hot?" Adam asked.

"Kind of a coach type. Looked a little like your old Coach Masterson."

"FUCK!" Adam growled. Less quiet. He was gonna cum soon. As much as a daddy's boy he was, my son had man crushes on other guys. Men who pushed his buttons. I had them too, for that matter.

"You want me and Coach taking turns on your ass, son? While that NFL stud watches?" Mr. Football Dad of course was caged, but this was about Adam's fantasy now.

He nodded. "Incest double date," he hissed. Getting there.

I put more power in. Turns out the action was enough to get me off. I started nutting inside my son's raw ass. I hunched over and held on tight as I fucked through my ejaculation. I heard Adam's orgasmic grunts beneath me. I wish I could say I had a skilled technique as a top. But I just seemed to do what felt right and that was good enough from my son.

We clung to one another a second and laughed at how crazy horny we'd been. I slowly pulled out and found a spare rag in the back for us to wipe off. I took a look around the parking area. Coast was still clear, thank god.

I made my presentable. Adam had that just-fucked glow about him. He was adorable that way. We both got back into the front seat.

"Whoa," Adam said, buckling his seat belt back on.

"Yeah, whoa," I said, shooting him a grin. "You good, son?" I asked. I always asked after a hard pounding.

"More than OK, Dad, that was awesome."

Our lips met, softly now. Soft tongue, soft sucking. We had to be at the restaurant, but my son and I had time to kiss. I finally patted his leg. "More of that later, OK, kiddo?"

"Yes, sir..."