#he was never mine to have: a hopeful conclusion

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐈’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Angst, post-break up, Miguel’s heartbroken, he really shouldn’t be though, sexual frustration, innuendos, soreness from sex, male masturbation, sexual flashbacks MINORS DNI🔞

𝐀/𝐍: Hey, hope you didn’t forget about me🥹 it’s been a while. I saw this fan art of Miggy in the shower after I wrote this and thought it was pretty fitting

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been over a year since you split up, but unfortunately for Miguel, things are still taking a toll. Even after going your separate ways, you still have to see each other everyday and it was affecting his performance. Meanwhile, your dual life as a loyal lover and as Spider-Woman is putting a lingering strain on your new relationship. The ripple effect of your breakup is coming back to bite you in the ass in the most unexpected way possible.

Things were already hard enough after you and Miguel broke things off. But having to be your boss while not allowing his heartbreak to get in the way of leading a group of Spider People, including yourself, was modifying.

He didn’t realise how much the aftermath affected him until his recruits had noticed his performance was lacking.

His combat skills were becoming sloppy making him prone to more injury. It was frustrating how much he was letting this get to his head— he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

After the third trip to the Spider Medbay, it dawned on him that he had to accept things as they were now and move on. His job as a leader will be at risk otherwise.

Initially, he thought he was doing a decent job ignoring his pain. He was growing used to seeing you everyday without your affection, especially since he was accustomed to being alone before you got together.

But after the latest Spider meeting, Miguel was left with fresh salt on the wound.

As you sat down on your seat before he commenced the meeting, your face scrunched slightly from the ache between your legs.

An obvious sign that you’ve just been dicked down by your current flame recently. No one else in the board room had noticed but he definitely did.

And he hated himself for it.

If the situation were different, where you didn't feel any resentment towards him after he broke your heart, he wouldn’t pay any mind to it.

There was a time where he would’ve felt his ego soar after seeing you struggling to sit down like that — only because he knew it was him and his dick that was the cause of that. But now he was left with bitter pain and yearning.

Back then, he knew he could manhandle you if he wanted to. But he would never do anything that could affect your agility and performance as a crime fighter.

Albeit, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck you good enough so you would get drunk from his dick and he got to witness your mind going numb.

But now he had lost that privilege. He couldn’t see your worn out face anymore after he made you come.

The mere notion of another man touching you like that, let alone seeing you in that state, was enough to send him spiraling. Not that he would let you be aware of that.

This new guy wasn’t even aware of your double life as Spiderwoman. He wouldn’t be as cautious and mindful when fucking you like Miguel would.

It was one of the convenient things in your relationship— why you were perfect for each other. Until it wasn’t. He had to force himself to continue like this wasn’t tearing him apart inside.

Eventually the meeting came to a conclusion and everyone made their way to the cafeteria for their lunch break. Miguel, on the other hand, headed back to his office in solitary.

Every muscle in his body felt heavy and it felt like extra labour just to walk back to his office. He didn’t catch you following behind until you called out his name.

“Miguel,” he turned to see you walk up towards him.

As foolish as it was, for a fleeting moment he thought you were going to comfort him; put your hands on his shoulders and give him a massage or peppered his face with kisses when everyone had left, just like you used to.

The fantasy vanished just as quickly as it came when you spoke your mind.

“I think my watch needs calibrating, it’s acting up,” you told him, gesturing to your watch. Of course.

You would only approach him when you need something from him. That was how it had been, he shouldn’t expect anything more.

“Alright pass it over, I’ll give you a day pass in the meantime,” he said as he fished out a day pass for you to wear.

You removed your watch from your hand and passed it to him before taking the wrist band and putting it on.

Once it was secure, you turned your heels to leave. He felt his adrenaline spike as he watched you and out of impulse, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Hey um,” He started, making you turn back around to look at him. Your eyes bore onto his, something he thought he’d never witness again after you split up. Except this time, there wasn’t any warmth in your gaze as there used to be; instead, there was nothing but a void.

Shit

The room suddenly felt like it was getting hotter. Or maybe that was the heat rushing to his cheeks out of sheer discomfort.

Either way he felt like his inner thoughts were written all over his face and you could read him. You probably could sense something was wrong but you weren’t going to comment on it.

He wouldn’t blame you…

Now you had your full attention on him, even if it was only brief. He had to make sure he played his card right and tread through this carefully.

“How’s everything?” He asked meekly. He tried to keep his composure as controlled as he could, keeping a tight lid on his raw emotions.

“Fine.” The word came out so curt, it didn’t even feel like a proper response.

It hurt his pride knowing another man could make you sore like he can, just the way you like it. On top of that, he was treating you better and was making you happy. Something that he couldn’t do.

You deserved a partner who would be there for you, support you and nurture that mutual love. Not just someone who was good in bed.

Unfortunately he was so drawn into his train of thoughts about your man, his mouth moved faster than his mind before he could even stop himself, initiating a word vomit.

“Is he treating you well,”

Shit shit shit…

Why did he bring him up? Now he probably looked pathetic. He could see you drift your gaze away after he asked that. Obviously the topic was pretty sensitive.

“Mhmm” you hummed in approval. You were clearly not comfortable with sharing more. Judging by how you responded, you had moved on and healed from the pain he had caused you.

He shouldn’t shit on your new man; he never even met the guy (other than watching the surveillance footage of your dimension while monitoring the Multiverse like he always did)

So he had no valid reason to hate on him if everything was going well with you.

And he knew you weren’t going to willingly share about your current relationship. You were a private person and he always valued that while you were both still together.

But now it was working against his favour. Despite being fully aware that your personal life wasn’t any of his business anymore, he was still desperate to know everything.

There was a sense of antipathy that was growing in his heart towards your new life without him in it. No matter how much he would lie to himself and deny it was there, it only heightened as more time passed.

The silence that was shared between the two of you was making it hard to breathe. It felt like all the oxygen in the room wasn’t enough to fill his lungs with the tranquility he needed.

You should get going, don’t want to hold you back any longer than I already have.

Eventually, Miguel gave a subtle nod before shifting his attention to your watch in his hand. He wanted to end the premature conversation before he said something he will regret.

The last thing he heard was your footsteps getting quieter as you left his office, leaving him in his own thoughts.

Miguel felt some of the tension leaving his body, like melted candle wax, as he took the first step into his apartment— his confinement safe space.

But despite being surrounded by the comfortable air in his home, his muscles were still aching. Today was more physically demanding than usual as he was on his feet all day, containing not just one but three anomalies, all in different dimensions.

Fatigue seeped into his bones. But it wasn’t just the physical tasks that drained him. His mind was constantly running with relentless questions, though there was one that struck him the most.

Could he manage to lead the Spider Society without being consumed by his emotional turmoil? More importantly, without being consumed by the reminders of his loss. Gabriella.

You.

It has been a year since you both split up and he’s still unable to break free from the haunting memories of his past. Thinking about your breakup was making him dizzy. The overhead lights in his apartment suddenly felt too bright and sickening.

“Lyla, could you dim the lights please?” He called out before he headed to the bathroom. The lights dimmed just as demanded.

“Lights are dimmed now, Miguel,” Lyla’s digital voice chirped. Miguel’s thoughts remained on you as he made his way towards the shower.

He couldn’t stop himself from recalling the last conversation you both just had back in HQ. It was brief but your reluctant body language was enough to speak volume.

Part of him wanted to know what was going through your head when he asked about your current relationship, even if it was just a slip up. But at the same time, after seeing the way your demeanor shifted when he asked, he would rather stay clueless about it.

He stepped into the shower and twisted the shower knob, adjusting the water to the right temperature. Steam was released into the air from the hot water, creating condensation on the cold tiles.

The hot spray from the shower ran over him as he allowed the water to rinse over his whole body. He sighed as he felt his muscles instantly unwind from the hot water but the warmth also seemed to amplify his solitude.

He rested one of his hands on the glass panel that was fogging up from the steam. The shower continued to spray over his back and his mind continued to wander.

As much as he tried to forget about today, he couldn’t stop thinking back to the Spider meeting from earlier and how you were struggling to sit without the obvious sourness between your legs. Seeing you in that state gave him erotic flashbacks that he didn’t want to recrystallise in his head, especially now.

Suddenly, a memory that he had tried so hard to bury deep in his core resurfaced in his head, blaring at him. The image of you bent over in his shower; your hands and your bare tits being pressed against the same glass panel he had his hands on right now, while he was thrusting you from behind.

He couldn’t shake off the memory no matter how hard he tried. The thoughts continued to run through his head and just like clockwork, he felt himself getting bricked up.

How pathetic. He let his unwanted memories get the best of him and now it was affecting the rest of his body.

His cock was twitching and he could feel the subtle throb of his pulse from the sensitive areas. His free hand reached to clasped around the length with his mind conflicted from his aching predicament.

As much as he knew how bad his situation was right now, he couldn’t stop himself from caving into his own desperation. Out of impulse, he started to stroke at a steady pace with that image of you stuck behind his eyelids.

This was wrong. So wrong. Thinking about you in such an elaborate manner while getting off to it, especially when he was aware that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. After everything he put you through…

But his head wasn’t thinking about any reasoning or morals anymore. At least no one could see the state he was in right now.

The grip from his hands could never replicate the sensation of your walls clenching around him— along with your wetness that would coat his dick.

He was drawn back to those memories of you in his shower again. You always used to take him so well, especially from behind. He would nuzzle his face into your neck while fucking you relentlessly.

The bathroom would be filled with the sounds of your pretty moans over the spray of the water that would echo over the tiles in the shower.

Each thrust would push you further against the glass panel. Your hands and tits would always be imprinted on the surface by the end of it, and every time he would be reluctant to wipe it away.

He increased the pace of his strokes just from recalling that memory, with his eyes bored onto the panel. His heart was pulsated in his chest as he was losing himself in the bliss of his own fantasies.

The memory of your breakup was now forgotten as he was reliving these memories. It was almost tangible, he could almost hear you moaning out fragments of his name in his mind. But it was probably just his auditory hallucinations.

He longed to feel you again, hearing you say his name just like you used to. Feeling your touch again would scratch the irritable itch that had always lingered. Even if he knew he’d never have you again, he still dreamt about you.

His climax was crawling up to him painstakingly slow. He recalled those moments where you would touch yourself afterwards, just to feel how much he had stuffed you with his cum.

The memory, along with the built up anger and longing, was enough for him to unravel and his orgasm came crashing down on him— it was almost overwhelming.

The evidence of his guilt spilled over his knuckles before getting washed away by the spray of the shower. But it wasn’t enough to erase what he just did.

The post-nut clarity disappeared once he realised what he got himself into and how far he fell into the rabbit hole of his own desires. It felt like every object in the bathroom just witnessed his own sin.

He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower before he wrapped a towel around his waist. Water was dripping from his hair and fell over his bare shoulders and back, but he paid no attention to it.

Everything that had just happened a few moments ago was sinking into him, and although he scrubbed himself clean from his own cum, there was still the unsettling awareness of his own mishap weighing on his shoulders.

It was making his stomach twist with nausea. Shame quickly settled over him, like a cloud hovering over his head. It continued to follow him as he made his way to his bedroom.

Miguel grabbed a set of clean clothes from the dresser and got himself dressed for bed. Even with the unease that was lingering in his head, his routine still felt mechanical and familiar. Nothing else seemed to change.

Once he was dressed, he slipped under the cool covers of his bed, shutting out everything that had happened today.

Part 2

Just lmk if you wanna be tagged

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @miguels-aranita @thealleydog @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @strawberryjuice9 @lazyjellyfish300 @ghost-lantern @what-the-jams @mcmiracles @monarchberrysblog @niyahwhoreworld @keigoloveminty @ewan-tef @ginanet @mrsoharaa @flowerlemonss-blog @shadowarchon @smartyren @famouscattale @stressed-cherry @hrhmimieucliffe @ultravioletrayz @grxnde-dwt @homewreckingwreck @your-antares-universe @crimin4llyins4ne @tojishugetiddies @miguel-ohara-wifey

Now I’m gonna log off for two days bc I don’t want to see ppls immediate reaction to this 😟

Btw, I will be interacting with your fics and reblogging from my second account @lmaoyouwhore (don’t pree the blog too hard, it’s still under construction lol)

Ayrus xoxo

[velariscalling]

Morally Grey - An Azriel Imagine

Characters: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Cassian drags the IC to his new obsession: open mic night at Rita's, and much to his delight, Azriel has been paired up to sing with the Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive language.

A/N: My first ever imagine is HERE!! Honestly I've been so nervous to put this out as it's all very new to me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I'm really looking forward to see how my writing develops as I post more, but for now, I hope you enjoy my first post! It's just a load of silly fun tbh. And finally, thank you so much to @sarawritestories for helping me out with the ending, you're the best! <3

Soundtrack: 'Morally Grey' by April Jai feat. Nation Haven

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

Rita’s was bustling.

As it always was on a Friday night, really. They probably should have known better than to come on a weekend, but the welcoming vibrancy of the bar was a welcome reprieve from a long week’s work. Y/N took a deep breath as the music hit her, exhaling as she let any remaining stress seep from her body and into the night.

Before she could think too much about the busy days she’s had as of recently, a hand grabbed each of hers - one perfectly manicured, one covered in swirls of black ink - and pulled her in the direction of the bar. Mor flagged down a barman who recognised them immediately - it wasn’t a rare occurrence for the Night Court’s Inner Circle to make an appearance here.

After a moment, she handed her a shot glass filled with bright green liquid. “Bottoms up, you’re gonna need it tonight,” she grinned, already having necked her own. Feyre giggled as Y/N raised a questioning eyebrow at the blonde, throwing back her shot anyway and wincing at the tangy liquid.

“And why is that, exactly?” Y/N cocked her head at her friend, who’s brown eyes danced with excitement.

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes playfully, already flagging down the barman for yet another shot, just for herself this time. “You really think Cassian’s going to let us miss out on tonight? He’s been preparing his song with Rhys for days.”

It’s true - Cassian’s favourite night of the week was their newest tradition, open mic night at Rita’s. Four songs, four duos, randomly selected. Or so he says, anyway. He probably matched himself with Rhysand so he could convince him to sing Mysterious Girl together.

Feyre gripped Y/N’s hand from her other side, clearly trying her hardest to hold back a squeal of excitement. “How are you feeling?” She knew that there was more to that question than meets the eye. It wasn’t a secret that Cassian’s little game had paired her up with Azriel, much to his delight.

She put on her mask of indifference that she had mastered over the months of knowing the shadowsinger, refusing to give any details away of her incessant feelings for him that prodded at her constantly. “I am feeling absolutely fine, High Lady,” she smiled, eyes shining, but a scoff from her left interrupted her.

“Please,” Mor drawled, looking at her with a face that said, don’t even try. “You literally can’t fool anyone, especially not us, so drop the act.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t mastered her mask as well as she had initially thought, her twin’s nod of agreement cementing that conclusion. “Okay fine, but what do I have to be nervous about? You are all the ones who should be nervous when we out-sing you.” She smirked at them, but they shared a knowing look.

“There it is, changing the subject,” Feyre chuckled, nursing her drink in her hand. Y/N scowled at her, but she could never actually be mad at her. Frankly, she was more irritated by the fact that she knew her so well. “What? Y/N, this is what happens every time we bring him up.”

She opened her mouth to argue, when an arm was slung over her shoulder, and Feyre’s. “Ladies,” Rhysand’s melodic voice sounded over the music as he appeared between the sisters. He nodded at Mor with a grin, who was already on her… third, or fourth shot? Who knows. “Cass will have a temper tantrum if I don’t drag you all over to the stage right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with a laugh and allowed her mate to spin her into his arms, and they both made their way over to the Inner Circle’s area of the bar. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight of them, knowing that her twin, her double in every way, had found her happiness. Mor looped her arm through hers as they walked behind them, her eyes following Y/N’s gaze. “You’ll have that soon, you know.”

Y/N looked over at her. She was so breathtaking, her brown eyes contrasting her golden hair, and her signature red dress hugging her flawless body in all the right places. Any male or female in this room would be lucky to get her, and yet, she didn’t care. Next to her, though, Y/N felt like nothing. As if Mor could sense her thoughts, she squeezed her arm affectionately. “Come on. Tonight’s the night you’re going to show that other side of you- oh don’t give me that look, I know it’s there.”

Y/N huffed, a lighthearted sound, and shook her head softly. “I wish I had your confidence,” She murmured, a dry joke.

“Babe, you’re sexy. When are you going to realise that?” The sheer certainty in Mor’s voice had Y/N raising her eyebrows at her friend, who simply nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Channel it tonight. I’ll be watching.” She winked, and released her arm as they arrived at their own table right in front of the stage.

Rhys and Feyre had already taken their seats at the centre, High Lord and Lady looking elegant as ever. Cassian sat to Rhys’s right, his excitement akin to a golden retriever, as Amren, who was sat next to him, clearly tried her hardest not to throttle him. Next to Feyre sat Azriel, his looming shadows making the already dark bar appear pitch black in his presence. There were two empty chairs to his left, and finally Nesta sat at the end of the table, clearly trying to make the most of as much peace and quiet as she could get before the night’s shenanigans unfolded. Mor was quick to take the seat next to her, leaving Y/N between her and Azriel. He gave her a short smile as she sat down, ever the emotionless. “Are you ready?”

The low, icy voice of the shadowsinger never failed to take her by surprise. If the living embodiment of darkness could talk, it would sound like him. She looked at him, his hazel eyes glowing even in the darkness, and replied, “Are you?”

Before Azriel could respond, a flute of sparkly champagne slid from Y/N’s left into view. She turned to see Nesta, wordlessly handing her the drink, with grey-blue eyes that told her that she, too, thought she needed an extra little liquid confidence tonight. She noticed Mor biting her lip so hard she looked as though she may explode, and she rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she turned back to Azriel. To her surprise, it appeared as though a similar grin was tugging on those lips as well.

He merely raised his glass to hers, eyes shining with a grin that he wouldn’t let fully show on his face. She picked up her own glass and clinked it against his, matching his honey gold gaze.

Let the night begin.

It’s safe to say that the performances of the night were… well, entertaining. Cassian was a little too excited dragging Rhys up to perform their number first, giving major boyband energy up on that stage. Feyre was in fits of laughter, but Nesta looked like she wanted to claw her eyes out… but perhaps secretly enjoyed it behind that mask of disgust. Y/N’s two sisters were up next with a rendition of Love Story in which Nesta was surprisingly involved, followed by Amren and Mor’s take on Lady Marmalade, which was frankly the worst thing anyone had ever heard. If the monster lurking beneath Amren’s skin was anything like her singing voice, then Mother help us all.

It wasn’t long before her friends were cheering and whooping as Y/N stood from her seat - the final song. “Get him girl,” Mor whispered as she passed her, Azriel on her heels. She felt the shadows licking at her ankles as she ascended the steps to the stage, gripping the microphone that had been handed to her on the way.

As Azriel situated himself to her left, she stole a quick glance at him. He was looking at the floor, uncharacteristically tense under the gazes of all their friends. It was no secret that Azriel had the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard, a gift from the Cauldron itself, but it occurred to her now that maybe no one else had heard it before. Aside from her, at the couple of short practices they  had done. Even then, she didn’t think he was giving his all.

Y/N faced the front and prepared for the music to play - she was more of a seasoned performer than Azriel. She had played her fair share of gigs around Velaris, a good handful of which on this very stage. If she was showing some confidence, she hoped that it would spark some inside of him. She steeled herself, breathing in deeply as she raised the microphone to her lips, and the music began.

“He’s got gold eyes, crooked smile, knows that he drives me wild,”

She felt the heat of the spotlight on her as she let her voice ring through the bar. It was soft, to begin with, giving the song room to breathe, to build. She looked over at the man she was sharing the stage with, noticing tension already lost from his shoulders at the sound of her voice. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, and she knew then that he’d realised how she’d changed the lyrics to fit him, those perfect golden eyes.

“Can’t help myself, no I’m not in denial,”

The smile she sent his way was telling, it spoke a hundred words. But it wasn’t just her grin that conveyed the message she sent: you’re okay, you’re with me, move with me. There was something between them, an invisible thread connecting the two of them, body and soul and mind. Certain thoughts, certain feelings - she could feel his, and he could feel hers. A bond like this had meaning, they both knew this, but neither of them were bold enough to explore it, acknowledge it. Across that bond, she beckoned him: Azriel, you’re with me, and I’m with you… play with me.

“I know he’s no good for me,”

There was a flicker of something in the shadowsinger’s eyes, as if his mind had decided to pull him down an alternative route to the one he was prepared to go down, the one where he’d back out and run. A shadow of a smirk lingered on his lips, as his own shadows danced around him excitedly, egging him on. The weaving tendrils were clearly more than satisfied with the idea that flashed through their master’s mind, whatever images Y/N’s words had conjured up. Azriel, play with me.

“But when he gets down on his knees,”

The spark in his eyes only seemed to brighten as he brought the lyrics to life, sinking slowly down onto his knees before her. The shit-eating smirk he wore on his face in response to her evident surprise could have sent her to her own knees as she beheld him, kneeling, for her. Mother spare her. A quick glance to her right at the others confirmed that they had all had the same reaction she had, and she feared that the bar staff may have to assist in picking their jaws up from the floor. Azriel’s face was challenging, knowing, yet almost the picture of innocence as she felt his response in her mind: You told me to play with you. She sent one word back at him: Bastard.

If he was going to play dirty, so was she.

“He’s so eager to please, knows the right frequencies,”

He reached a hand out as if to touch her - where, she wasn’t sure - but she grabbed it before he could make any contact. Scars felt rough against her soft skin as she walked slowly, teasingly around him and she sang the chorus, her heeled boots tugging her posture upright so her body curved in all the right places. She caught Feyre’s eye as she circled Azriel, still knelt on the floor and looking as though he was more than content to stay there forever. Y/N’s sister looked like her eyes were about to bulge out of her head, her smile growing so big that Y/N thought it would be too big for her face. Next to her, Rhysand simply winked, an encouraging smirk boosting her confidence.

“They say he’s morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite colour,”

As she made her way back to the front of Azriel’s view, still gripping his hand as he held it upright for her to use, she slowly lowered herself down to a squat in front of him as she sang the line. From this angle, she was now much closer to his face than before, and she noticed the subtle sheen of lust glazing over his eyes. It almost made her lose balance - almost. She brought his hand gently to her lips, placing a chaste kiss onto his marred knuckles, and he took in a sharp breath. Most people flinch when they see his hands, or grimace, or turn away. Not Y/N. No, she thinks Azriel’s scars are part of his story. The backstory to a warrior, a survivor. Scars are not the memory of what happened, but a testament to who you have become.

“Morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite…”

She rose to her feet, prepared to give Azriel some space to begin his verse, remembering the nerves that clung to him barely a minute ago. As she began to turn, taking the first step away from him, something cold slithered around her ankle, and one around her waist. The shadows pulled her straight back to where she was as the music lowered, and held her in place, as if they knew that hearing his voice would send her to the floor. And Mother above, they knew her well.

“What can I say? No I don’t pray, but for your body, I’ll worship,”

She could have sworn her knees buckled, but she couldn’t tell from the shadows holding her still. Azriel’s voice was like silk, so soft and pure, yet it lit her insides on fire in a way that she’d never felt, burning her up like a beautiful, dying star. If his voice was to be the thing to send her to her death, then so be it. She would die very, very happy. He reached out once again, and this time she did not stop him as he ran his hand up her thigh all the way to her waist from his position on the floor. Even kneeling, his Illyrian frame was intimidatingly large, her body standing not too much taller than his. His eyes watched his hand intently as it traced the curve of her side, as if they didn’t have an audience, one that was most definitely gaping at Azriel’s sudden brazenness.

“Girl don’t be afraid, my love’s a grenade, just be a good girl, you can take it,”

Like an angel rising from the ashes of war, Azriel stood slowly, wings flaring as he rose to his full height. His gaze was already intense when she was the one looking down at him, but now that he was the one towering over her, the darkness in his eyes shot electricity straight through her body and into her core, her head reeling with thoughts so sinful that nothing could save her. His hand on her waist squeezed on the words good girl, and she was forced to bite her lip hard to stop herself from reacting in a way that would later be incredibly embarrassing. His eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her bottom lip as she released it from her teeth with a pop.

“Call me insane but for you, I was made, I’d burn the world down if it’d make you feel safe,”

The fire in Azriel’s eyes blazed as he took one step toward her, and another, and another, closer and closer. The upper hand that Y/N had held up until now had slipped, yielding step after step backward, her control completely faltering. She had always known that doing this with Azriel would likely create some… tension between the two of them, and he must have known, but Cauldron, this was unlike anything she had ever expected. Azriel was so close that she felt his body heat, felt her face warming, likely for everyone to see under the harsh glare of the spotlights.

“It’s you that I crave, and nothing compares to your taste,”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel like Azriel meant every single word he was singing. No, he didn’t write the lyrics himself of course, but the way his eyes burned with such feeling, and… what looked to be desperation, told her there was much more to this than meets the eye. And Gods… the way his voice cracked ever so slightly with a primal need as those final words left his mouth had her praying to whatever higher powers she could to forgive her for the damning shivers he was sending straight to the very heart of that taste he craved so badly.

As the chorus rolled around once more, their voices finally blended as one, and nothing had ever sounded so right. Azriel’s shadows danced freely around the two of them, creating a tornado of darkness, of intimacy, where they were right in the eye of the storm. The song continued, and the pull between the two of them was magnetic, almost hypnotic as they completely forgot about the audience they had; their family who were most definitely gaping like fish out of water. Y/N could feel Azriel’s warm breath on her face as he sang, his angelic voice whispering less-than-angelic promises that only she could hear in the way it trembled.

Y/N honestly didn’t think that Azriel could get any closer - what she failed to consider was that the shadowsinger was in so deep that he wasn’t planning on stopping until there was absolutely no space left between them. As the song once again softened, Azriel took his chance and leaned impossibly closer, abandoning his vocals in favour of a different use of that mouth. Y/N inhaled sharply as Azriel’s lips brushed against hers, gently, experimentally. Some instinctive part of her that knew this was right pushed her forward to press her lips a little harsher against his, earning a shiver from the shadowsinger. She heard a soft rustle coming from behind him as his wings twitched from the anticipation.

As he pulled away, Azriel heard a shaky exhale escape her lips, caused only by the feeling of him, the heat of two bodies pressed close together, the rush of meeting the lips of the person who, deep down, you know is made for you. Your partner. Your mate. That shiver he elicited from Y/N was the final straw - the last thing he needed to cement his plans for the night. His face still inches from hers, he whispered with a voice so low he wasn’t sure it had even come from him, “You’re mine tonight.”

One moment, the IC were watching dumbfounded at the scene playing out in front of them, some wondering if they really should be averting their eyes (apart from Cassian, who sat with a shit-eating grin on his face). The next moment, the stage was empty, a whisper of shadows the only thing left standing in their wake. Azriel had disappeared in a flash, winnowed to who knows where, taking Y/N with him.

“Goddamn, Az,” Rhys chuckled into his drink after a beat of shocked silence. “Nicely done.”

“No! But they didn’t even finish their song!” Cassian pouted, gesturing wildly at the empty stage as the music still played from the speakers.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s their priority right now, Cass,” Mor giggled, practically vibrating from excitement and pride, exploding with glee at what had taken place since her little pep talk earlier.

Rhys set his glass down on the table in favour of throwing an arm over the top of Feyre’s chair. “It’s about time those two did something about the obvious, right?”

As Feyre’s eyes sparkled with delight for her twin, she giggled at his words, overjoyed at the knowledge that Y/N may at last feel the happiness of having a mate. A partner for all eternity.  “Yeah… finally.”

[daddyricsdoll]

Friends? ✭ Ollie Bearman

Summary: You and Ollie were just friends, no matter how much your feelings grew or your need for his lips against yours. Well that was what you thought when you found someone else to put your mind to for the evening, but maybe not with Ollie's furrowed brows and glares.

Warnings: Unprotected sex

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: If only the things I write were true. Based off of this request. Please Enjoy!!

My hands clench around the handle of my suitcase as I walk out of the doors of the Abu Dhabi international airport. Expecting to be greeted by my Ollie, and I was right when my eyes made contact with his brown ones. A wide grin compliments his pigmented cheeks as we both make quick steps toward each other.

Simultaneously our arms wrap around the other for a refreshing and long awaited embrace. I had missed him, my dear friend I love too much that others claim it’s more than friendship. But he’s so oblivious that I’ve had to shut my feelings down, but every time he speaks a word to me or brushes against my skin, it lingers, and it’s not like I want it to stop.

I finally realise we still both hold each other before I suddenly let go and we pull away. He looks at me with that one smile everyone knows, but this one has a glint in his eyes that I know all too well, not from the times he’s looked at me but other girls that have run after him at races or passed him on the streets. I want to give in, I want to grab him, but then comes the reminder of him claiming we’re great friends, but who said friends can’t be more? Especially if we're already great together. 

Just seconds later it’s like I break out of this “trance” and I see that I’m seated in the backseat with Ollie next to me. We catch each other up on everything, what he did during his break when we weren’t together or my uneventful life without him.

I have to keep reminding myself that we can’t be more than what we already are, which brings me to my conclusion of finding a distraction, or something better than Ollie- if it exists. I hear his soothing voice again and then I make out the words he tells me. “There’s a party, well an event kind of thing tonight, all of the drivers will be there as well as a few other important people and I just wanted to see if you wanted to come?” It takes me a few moments to think of my answer, but I eventually nod and we both plan our arrival together. 

Four hours go by fast and the next thing me and Ollie sit next to each other in a taxi, going to the venue of the event. Ollie wears a simple black suit with a white dress shirt as I wear an elegant black dress that displays my curves but doesn’t expose too much skin, acknowledging the event and country. 

We walk in together, soon dispersing when he generates good conversation with someone. I decide to grab myself a drink in hopes it’ll grow my confidence to meet someone new. As I ask the bartender for a drink I hear my name being called by a familiar voice, it belongs to none other than Paul Aron.

Paul had always been so kind and welcoming, making nearly everyone fall head over heels for him, me included. When we first met, his charm didn’t fail with me, and I had dreamt of what his lips would feel like. But now I’ve grown to know him and realised his charm, is him. So I had lost some of my feelings but he still never falls short to make me blush. “Hey Paul” I give him a soft smile and we exchange a short but comfortable hug. “It has been so long, hasn’t it? I missed your face.” He states and we both chuckle.

“Likewise. I’m surprised you recognise me.” The light hearted joke leaves my mouth freely.

“Oh I could never forget you, you’re too good.” I couldn’t distinguish if that comment was platonic or meant more, so I give him a kind smile and hope I don’t give off the wrong sign. 

We carry on a relaxed conversation, frequently giggling and brushing hands. We both notice Ollie from across the room and when his eyes meet mine I give him my signature smile, before I watch his brows furrow as his eyes glance at my hand that sits millimetres away from Paul’s. He looks back up and Paul waves at him, in reply Ollie turns his head which encourages me to excuse myself and make my way to him.

He watches me as I get closer with each step, a questioning look on my face as I finally reach him. “What’s up?” I ask him softly and his reply of “nothing” forces me to grab his hand and drag him out of the room. I walk through the long hallway and find a door that hides a moonlight sunroom. I shut the door once both of our bodies stand under the stars and I stare at Ollie in silence, observing him. His deep eyes look into mine and a smirk curls on his lips. I tilt my head to the side and try to hide the smile that begs to curl on my lips. 

“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?” 

“I already told you, nothing’s wrong.” He utters in his soft British accent. 

“Oh, ok then. Well if nothing’s wrong then I’ll just go back to Paul.”

“No” He says immediately, one of his calloused hands grabs my arm. “Why?”

“Because, I don’t want you to go with him.” A sigh leaves my mouth and I try to keep calm, but also not wave away the problem because of the way he looks at me with that face or when he takes a step closer so both of his hands can brush against my skin. 

“Why?” I ask him in a whisper, and he gives me the same answer, just like I had given him the same question. “Why do you think that you have control over who I talk to?”

“Because I know it’s not just going to be talking” He looks down at me and matches the sound of my voice. “Ok, maybe you’re right, but what’s so wrong with more than talking? Can’t I do what other people my age do? Or is it something with Paul?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with Paul, but if you want to do “things that people your age do” don’t do it Paul.”

“Oh ok then, then tell me, who am I supposed to do it with Ollie?”

“You can’t possibly ask me this question like you seriously don’t know who would take care of you best and learn every part of you to make you satisfied. Did you notice what you do? Teasing me with those long hugs and short kisses on my cheek that you call “platonic” or whenever you cuddle me when we watch movies together and you’re the first person waiting for me when I finish a race. You can’t do all of that and then go after him. What has he done for you? What can he do? I bet he can’t touch you like I will, or if he kisses you. You know that I’m better, you would probably wish that it was me? Wouldn’t you?” 

His face inches closer to mine and hands slide around my waist. My breath becomes uneven but I don’t lose eye contact with him. “What makes you so sure of that?” I breathe out, barely audible. “Let me prove it to you, let me show you how good you’ll feel. You won’t think of Paul again.”

One of his hands grab the back of my neck and pull my head toward his, our lips colliding and they instantly mould against the other like they were destined for each other. My hands wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to me before and feeling his warmth along my whole body. I stand on my tippy toes and intertwine my hands together behind his neck.

Ollie grips the back of my thighs and pulls me up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. We broke the kiss so I could lay open mouthed kisses on his neck and my desire for him grew every second that his hips would grind against mine. His umber eyes glistened and I couldn’t tell if the stars I saw in them were a reflection from the sky or a display of his delicacy.

He was always a masterpiece to look at, pigmented cheeks, a light shade of my favourite roses, a smile worth more than the moon and eyes that make you feel so many emotions of love. And oh don’t get me started on every other part of him, his voice, the one that hugs me, makes me feel so giddy even my knees buckle and go weak. Before I felt his touch I only wanted it but now, oh it’s a need.

He puts me back on my feet just to lower me to the ground, my back makes contact with the cold floor, and my eyes make contact with the moon and the stars. His body hovers over mine and he plants kisses along my skin as he leisurely moves lower and lower. Oh the feeling of his lips that kiss my insecurities and heal my scars, I just wish I could get every nanometer engraved and memorised on my lips and body and mind. 

Ollie lifts my hips to pull the fabric of my dress up and then over my head. He places my body flat on the floor as he looks at me with parted lips and wonder melting in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful” He says in advance of his hands pulling my panties down and body inching closer and closer to mine. I watch him unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants. 

“Ready to forget about Paul?” I was forming my response until he swiftly lifted my hips up and thrust into me. My breath immediately hitches and a short moan leaves my mouth as I grow comfortable to the stretch. His groan was like a melody to my ears, before he released a hushed curse and made another ram into me. Ollie readjusts my legs so they hang over his shoulders and he manages to get even deeper inside of me than before. My hips lightly grind against his, adding friction to my clit and whines emit from my mouth. 

“Tell me, would Paul do this to you? Fuck you under the stars?” His words brought me to surprise, but it was a surprise that I would happily get used to, as long as it was him. 

“N-no” I choke out my response as he drives in me at a consistent pace, fast and rough but tender and sensitive. His head lingers above mine until my hands tangle into his now tousled hair and pull him closer to me. Our lips fuse together in a powerful kiss, one where we share each other under the moonlight, finally. After months of pining and wishing to know what it feels like, I ultimately do, we both do. 

A moan releases from my mouth into his as the knot in my stomach becomes tighter and tighter, just waiting for the last motion to make it snap. “You gonna cum?” He mumbles against my lips and suddenly all words leave my vocabulary, but moans come out pretty easily. My head nods up and down eagerly and he snaps his hips the last few times just enough to make me release with a loud whine. Ollie’s thrusts become less consistent and I feel him spasm inside of me before his cum fills me. He rides both of our highs out before halting deep inside of me. Our breathing soon matches and his head lowers beside mine, just enough so he can whisper in my ear.

“Do you think Pau-” We both chuckle as I quickly cut him off.

“No. Only you Ollie, only you.”

[g3llyfish]

Hey I wanted to request something funny.

Like redson and macaque ( separately ) kidnaps one of mk’s friends, fem s/o and they start laughing ( not like mocking them ) but more like ( I can’t believe this happened ) while saying “ no no I’m sorry..it’s just..this is the most effort a man has ever put into me 😂 “

Idk i thought it was funny in my head 🤔 hope this was okay

"DELUSIONAL"

Redson x FEM! reader x Macaque (Seperate)

Either platonic or romantic

Redson and Macaque judging the reader, Reader being delulu, MK just wants his best friend back TT

NOTE:

MY FIRST ASJ AAA Tbh, it can also be considered as GN!reader cause I mostly do second pov but I still hope you enjoy!!

🔥 || REDSON !!

It has been a few week of him trying to defeat the noodle boy to get his staff

As expected, he fails again and again, machines after machines being crushed by that stupid staff and that stupid monkey boy

Knowingly that there's no use for his machines since they only go to his scrap corner

Until an idea pops up in his big demon smart boy brain

What if he kidnaps someone who is dear to MK and bargain them for the staff!

I mean, if that stupid noodle boy loves his friends so much he would do everything to get his best friend back!

Brilliant! Amazing plan even!

Meanwhile, you were hanging out with Mei and MK in the anti-gravity arcade, having the greatest time if your life

Until the ceiling broke down...

You were immediately grabbed by the demon bull clones and tied up so you wouldn't escape.

     "Redson?! Get back here with our best friend!" MK shouted at the bull prince who has you in his arms as you struggle.

     "Never! Catch me if you can, noodle boy and dragon horse girl!" Redson yells back as he laughs dramatically and surrounds him, you, and the bull clones with his fire to teleport away.

     Now you are hung from the ceiling in his lair, if that's what you like to call it considering the lava pool, tools, materials, engines, and many more are laying around the gigantic room.

     "Let me go!" You demanded "What are you planning now, Redson? Y'know MK is gonna MK.O!!™ you again right?"

     Redson scoffs a laugh, lifting up his welding mask to look up at your hanging state as he puts down his blowtorch.

     "After I finish my invention, we will go up to the mountain where my father was imprisoned..." He started to monologue "and then... I will exchange your life for the staff! ...that noodle boy cares for you so much that he will give it to me willingly! And once I have the staff is mine... MY FATHER WILL GAIN HIS POWER AND BE THE GREATEST RULER OF THE WORLD!"

     Redson's dark and overdramatic laughs echoes through the room as the lava's light reflected behind him, creating a giant menacing shadow of himself on the walls.

     Meanwhile you only blink twice at him, not being effected by the intimidating aura that the prince made.

     "You think I'm worth more than the staff?" "What"

     "Well, you basically said that I'm the same price as the staff... Do you think I'm that special?" You grin at him while he was only flabbergasted by your words.

     "W-what?! NO YOU IDIO--" "I don't know, like, you kidnapping me, thinking that I'm enough to be exchanged with the staff, you could've picked Mei but you chose me!"

     Redson gave you a dumbfounded look, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as you explain your conclusion.

     "Like, you took effort to kidnap me, you think I'm that worth of effort? No one has ever done that for me" You continue as you sniffle a bit.

     "Did-did you forget about the part where I said about my world domination?" Redson simply ask as he gives you a deadpanned stare.

     "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm just so happy right now, you think I'm worth more than the staff? You think I'm that unique?" "Shut up, you're delusional."

While he made his invention to secure his plan, you were in the background trying to make him admit that he thinks you're special

You're not what he thinks you are that's for sure, with you being a giggling mess while you're LITERALLY CAPTURED BY TYE DEMON BULL PRINCE

He expected you to be like MK and Mei, someone who wrecklessly fighting anything that move...

Not someone who is off to delulu land with quips at the back of your hand

He definitely regrets the kidnapping plan

🍌 || MACAQUE !!

After the 'stealing-wukong's-powers-from-MK' plan didn't work, he couldn't find anymore information or updates in MK's life

Macaque has to keep a close eye on him afterall, considering he is Wukong's apprentice

So why not get one of MK's best friends? He can't just lurk in the shadows

Sure, that'll work but he needs more dept and personal stuff about MK, to find something to hold him back

So while you were on your way back home, not paying attention to your surroundings that was when Macaque took the opportunity.

You took a step and before you knew it, you were falling down to the ground into a theater place for shadow puppet shows.

You landed on your back on the wooden ground, making you raise your brow in confusion cause you remember that you were walking on a pedestrian.

As you look around the place, you hear a dark echoey chuckle from behind you making the hair on your skin rise.

You stood up immediately to see none other than the shadow of the six-eared Macaque.

"Hey, doll..." He chuckles again, his grin getting wider as his shadow shrinks and he turns into his monkey form.

"Macaque?! What am I doing here?! Are you here to hurt me?! Well bad luck, monkey!" You glared at him making him smirk.

"Don't worry, don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm just here to borrow you for a while" Macaque says shrugging, getting closer towards the stage that you stood on.

"Me?" You ask in full confusion, your body relaxing as you put down your defenses.

"Mhm... You see, hiding in the shadow is not enough for getting information and I need you get me some," Macaque answers.

You pause as each side of your lips starts to slowly rise, "Me?"

"Yup, if you don't comply... then I might take back the 'I won't hurt you' part, simple, hm?" Macaque threatens with a hum.

You pause again, longer this time "me?"

"Yes, you..." Macaque sighs as he gives you a 'are you deaf?' look.

You held your laugh for a while before laughing aloud, Macaque, ofcourse felt as if you're underestimating him as he gets a little grumpy at your reaction.

"Wh- why are you laughing huh?!" "Pfft-- sorry! Sorry, sorry, it's just... I don't know it's funny"

"Funny how?" Macaque ask as he raises his eyebrow in frustration and crosses his arms.

"I don't know, you could've chosen anyone that could stalk MK for you but you chose me! Hah! I just didn't expect that someone would actually put effort on me" you laugh out.

"Effort?" Macaque questions, he wouldn't disagree with himself but he's definitely worried for your well-being.

"Yeah, I mean, you could've just sended me a text saying 'give me information or you're dead' text like my other exes, but here we are!" You continue to blabber making Macaque give you a concerned look.

"I-what..." "Yeah! I'm kinda flattered that you put so much effort on me, kidnapping me, tracking me down, watching which street I go to-- okay that's kinda creepy--" "okay, stop"

Macaque has to make you stop so he can continue his plan

He's mostly concerned about you cause who tf reacts like that?

He had to make a deal with you to proceed with his 'information gathering' plan but you always gawk at the fact that he chose you out of all people

Plan unsuccessful (?)

I'm sorry if it isn't to your expectations TT tell me criticisms if you'd like but I still hope you had fun with the fix as much as I did, love you pooksters :P

[essentiallyleaf]

day 06. dacryphilia. with. karina.

964 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, friends to lovers(?), dacryphilia (that’s being aroused by tears btw), deepthroating, sex toys, choking, overstimulation, tit slapping, basically unedited, boring tags.

notes.

a little bit of a shorter one today, i was planning on releasing a different fic, but didn’t like how that was coming out and had to write this last second. hope it’s not too bad. weepily, leaf.

It was the exact moment you reached the back of her throat that Jimin’s eyes started to glisten. Not the same way they did when you suggested pizza night to her, no, it was obviously a lewder, more desperate way, but somehow still as affectionate, as enthusiastic do be able to spend time with you doing something that she loves. And while it was clear since you two were best buddies in high school that she loved eating an entire burrata pizza while watching baseball with you, it took a little longer for her to find out that she loved leaving cherry lipstick marks on the base of your cock while you deepthroated her, as well.

Then Chaehyun’s house party happened. Chaehyun was one of Jimin’s best friends since before you knew her, you weren’t particularly close to her, maybe she was jealous of you, the shiny, (only relatively) new boy that just popped up in high school, and quickly became the person Jimin shares her secrets with - one time, she told you, she was trying to flirt with this girl that was in her French class, so she made a paper plane with her number written on the inside and threw it at her, but the paper plane “got caught in the wind” (“It was poorly built, just say it!” “Bro, bet that if we built one each right now, mine would fall further!” - it did) and hit the teacher’s back; fortunately he didn’t open it and just threw it in the bin thinking it was a joke in bad taste, but when at the end of the class she asked the girl out, the girl completely freaked out, telling her that she wasn’t out yet and that if her parents found out she’d be dead; they never spoke again. Or maybe she wasn’t jealous and you were just trying to demean her because you felt that this competition for being Jimin’s one and only was a real thing.

Anyway, late into Chaehyun’s house party, you and Jimin started nosing around in her upper floor, and specifically her room, and she found this purple vibrator (she said she had no idea it was there, but you knew she had been in that room before plenty of times - you’re not trying to imply anything, just, she is the type of girl who might decide to pull someone else’s sex toy out in front of you, because she knows what would happen if she did). What happened after she did was you on top of Jimin with a hand on the vibrator circling around her clit and the other around her throat, choking her. Tears were falling down each side of her face when she came.

Jimin rocks your world. It took you a while to find out all the ways in which she does (well, all the ones you know thus far), but what matters is, you got to that conclusion. And you got to that conclusion in a flash, it took one moment. It was a normal school night, it doesn’t matter when. The two of you were having sex missionary in your shared apartment - the decision to rent one together when you’d be in college came at the end of 10th grade; it was already clear by then that you’d have to deal with each other’s presence for a while. She had just had her third orgasm, some tears already shed in the first two, and her eyes were now closed in absolute bliss. You grabbed her chin: “Open up - glistening, I tell you - and look at me. Don’t close them anymore, ‘kay?”

You resumed your pumping while she was still sensitive, you heard her whining because of it. Her huge, fluffy tits were bouncing in a hypnotizing motion, begging to be touched. That’s a euphemism, you thought, as you smacked her left boob with your right hand. The yell that left her throat was the loudest of the night. What would the neighbors think? (What would they be thinking? “They’re fucking. It’s the sixth time this week.” That’s no news.)

Your eyes went back to hers. She hadn’t closed them, the good girl. And now her lips were quivering. Slap her right mound. Then back to the left. As you kept thrusting your hips into hers, Jimin started weeping.

“Look at me. I am so close. You’ll need to endure for me just a little more”

You weren’t lying, but let’s just say you didn’t take the quickest route. You detoured by going back to smacking the girl’s tits repeatedly, and now she was bawling. You took her hands and lifted her up, now basically kneeling on the bed, then wrapped your arms around her back as you pumped upwards into her pussy. She screamed her lungs out, as she probably reached her fourth, but it wasn’t her voice, it was her legs instinctively meeting on your back that spoke to you. And what they were saying was “I need it inside”. You heard her loud and clear, and deposited buckets of cum in her belly. Still completely wrapped around each other, the two of you fell back onto the bed, panting. Her entire face was wet in tears, her mascara completely ruined.

Jimin rocks your world. It’s when you look at her in the eyes that you can just tell. One moment. You were so focused on her, on keeping her happy and on not sharing her with anyone else, that you never realized how good you felt around her, how good she made you feel.

“How about I help you clean your face from your make-up?”

“I think I’ll need to clean down there, too”

Some of your cum was already flowing out of her pussy.

“Shower with me?”

-

footnotes.

i wonder if you can make a smut only describing stills and never an actual scene. experimentally, leaf.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

T-Shirts - Wade Wilson x ftm!Reader

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. I really hope Wade’s personality is in-character. I tried to keep the silly goofy vibes he has along with the pet names, but it’s been a while since I saw a Deadpool movie other than DP&W

Fic is written for this request

CW: Pet names; Reader is called baby boy, baby, and handsome; mentions of stabbing and murder; light fluff; suggestive content; explicit sexual content; smut; this is really just sex with a little bit of buildup; Wade is implied to be physically bigger than Reader; mild implied possession kink; Wade wears lingerie; sloppy kisses; AFAB Reader but their parts are called dick and hole; Reader’s arousal is described as slick; Wade eats the Reader out; overstimulation; multiple orgasms; fingering; PIV sex; unprotected sex; crying during sex; rough sex; Reader bites Wade hard enough to bleed; Wade cums inside Reader; Wade uses his fingers to keep the cum inside; aftercare; implied round two; snuggling

1730 words

“Oh, baby boy!” Wade’s voice rings out as he kicks open the door to your shared apartment.

You look up, smiling. “Hi, Wade.”

He waltzes over to you and plops himself down next to you on the couch. “Whatcha watchin’?”

You gesture at the TV, but can tell he’s only asking to be nice. “Just some show. How was your day?”

“Oh,” he rests his head against your shoulder. “Full of stabbing and murder. The usual.”

You wait, sensing some sort of dramatic pause in his manner.

“And I got us a present!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What sort of present?”

You know to be a little cautious. Wade’s presents have ranged from a sweet set of guns to a teacup pig you had to return to its owner.

But this time, Wade’s glee seems oddly more enthusiastic than usual. “I bought us matching shirts.”

You laugh. “Matching shirts?”

He nods and leaps up from the couch. He rummages in his bag by the door before plopping back down next to you. “See?”

He holds up the first shirt. “I had to hunt all over town for the shop, but I finally found them today!”

You laugh. You can’t help yourself. It’s not mean laughter, but actual, genuine laughter. You’re touched, in a way.

“Oh, Wade.” You read the shirt aloud. “‘I love my trans boyfriend.’ That’s so sweet!”

“And look at yours!” He holds up the other shirt.

“‘I love my smoking hot boyfriend.’” You nod, grinning at the cheesy decal. “I’m gonna wear it to the next family meeting.”

Wade gasps and clutches his shirt to his chest. “I’ll never be able to focus. Oh, you’re a sneaky one.”

You laugh and reach out to lift up his mask. You kiss his scarred cheek. “How ‘bout I go try it on, hmm? You wear yours… and I’ll wear mine…”

He clearly doesn’t miss the suggestive tone of your voice as he hops right up. “Yup! Let’s do that! I’ll just—“

He practically sprints for the bedroom and you grin. You can hear him banging around against the dresser, probably looking for some cute lingerie or something. You let him do his thing in peace, curious about what he’s gonna come out wearing.

You strip to your boxers and put on the shirt. It hangs big on you, which makes you smirk.

You used to think he just couldn’t remember your size, but now you know better. He does it on purpose, as he likes to pretend it’s his clothes you’re wearing. Some roundabout possession kink or something.

You can’t blame him. Hell, you let him do it. It makes you feel wanted, in some odd way.

You think about that for a moment, as you move to sit on the couch again. You quickly reach the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter, as you wouldn’t be dating Wade without a few quirks of your own.

Like his cute little saying about matching crazy. You don’t know if you match his level of insane, but you definitely match his level of horny.

So when he comes out of the bedroom with a literal bang of the door, you ogle him in amazement. He’s wearing the shirt and the hottest pair of red panties you’ve ever seen. They’re lacy, they’re silky, and they’re practically nonexistent.

Your mouth waters immediately. “I wanna suck you off.”

Wade groans, his cock visibly twitching in the panties. “Baby boy, I want that more than anything. But I made a promise to myself and I intend to keep it.”

You rest your chin on the back of the couch. “What promise?”

He walks over to you, lifting your head and planting one of the sloppiest kisses you’ve ever had right on your lips. You kiss him back with equal fervor, licking into his mouth with glee.

He pulls back from the kiss with a gasp, gazing at you with such adoration it makes your face heat.

“I promised I’d worship you, baby.” He cups your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Worship that sweet dick of yours.”

You can feel yourself get wetter. Can feel the slick soaking through your boxers, making them stick to your legs. “Fuck, Wade.”

“That’s the plan, baby boy.” He grins at you. “I’m gonna eat you out so good you’re seeing stars, and then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk in the morning.”

“Promise?” You’re almost giddy with excitement. You and Wade fuck like rabbits almost every single day, and yet it still gets you excited every time.

“Promise. Now, come here. I wanna give that sweet mouth of yours some love.”

He practically topples over the couch as he leans in to kiss you. And you? You let yourself be squashed by him. Anything to keep his lips on yours and his hands roaming your body.

You moan into the kiss, arching your hips up against his. His hand snakes down to your boxers, stroking over the damp fabric.

“Aww, look at you,” he coos, “So wet for me. I bet you’re absolutely soaking.”

You whimper and press into his touch. His mouth lodges against yours again as his fingers dip below your waistband.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, as his scarred fingers meet the pool of slick between your legs. He circles your dick, making you gasp and squirm beneath him.

“Wade! Wade, oh my god! Yes, just like that!”

“Yeah?” He nudges a finger against your hole. “Like this?”

You moan. Bucking into his touch, clenching around nothing. “Please, Wade…!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulls his hand away. Bringing it up to his mouth to suck his fingers clean. He groans at the taste. “Fuck, baby. I love you so much right now. All needy and desperate and—“

He cuts himself off, sliding off the couch to kneel between your legs. He grips the damp fabric of your boxers, easily tearing them apart. You whimper, clenching at both the sight and at the breath of air against your dick.

“Oh, damn,” Wade breathes. He reaches out, tracing his fingertips over your slick skin. “Baby boy, I am going to feast on you.”

You grab a couch cushion, already preparing yourself. It always takes you by surprise, though. His first lick against you.

You squeeze the life out of the couch cushion, moaning and gasping as Wade laps at you. He sucks on your dick, groaning as you soak his chin with slick.

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue,” he mutters against you. “Then on my fingers. And then I’ll let you have my dick.”

You whimper. He smirks and goes back to eating you out.

You cum on his tongue twice. Right in a row, unable to help yourself.

When he slides his fingers into your dripping hole, you scream into the couch cushion. He pumps them inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot.

You cum seeing stars. Once, twice again,

Your body is twitchy, wracked with shudders when he finally pulls out his dick. He rubs it against you, coating it thoroughly in your slick and cum.

“You want this, baby?” He coos. “You want my thick cock?”

“Yes!” You bury your face in the couch cushion, mostly to hide the tears building in your eyes. It’s going to be too much. But you need it. You need him. More than anything else on the planet. “Please!”

Wade chuckles and notches the tip of his dick against your hole. “How badly do you want it?”

“So bad!” You rock forward against him, but he grips your hips.

“Oh, no,” he smirks. “Don’t be greedy. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?”

“Please!” You beg. “Please, Wade, just put it in!”

“Alright, alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

In one fluid movement, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself inside you all the way.

You sob at the stretch, cumming immediately. You’re so sensitive. So achy and needy. Your poor dick so delicious sore.

Wade groans. Loudly. “Fuuuuuck! Keep that up and I won’t be able to last!”

You both know it’s a lie, he can go as long as he wants. But your sex-dumbed brain can only think of one thing. More pleasure.

You fuck yourself on him, arching and rocking your hips against his. He’s so deep inside you, you’re sure you could feel a bump in your stomach if you tried. It’s too much, exhaustion creeping up your spine.

Your movements get sloppy, more like needy grinding than fucking. You’re really crying now, tears flowing freely down your face and staining the cushion in your arms.

“Aww,” Wade coos. “Look at you. I wish I had a camera to take a picture. You’re perfect like this, you know.”

You just moan weakly. Thankfully he seems to get the memo. He grips your hips tightly and begins to fuck you roughly. Harsh, desperate thrusts. Heavy panting and sloppy kisses.

You abandon your cushion in favor of gripping his face as you kiss him.

“Please, please, please,” you beg.

He gasps and groans, fucking harder into you. “Oh, yeah, baby. This is it. You ready for this, handsome?”

You bite his lower lip in response, hard enough to make him bleed.

With a low curse, Wade slams his hips against yours, cumming deep inside you. You moan, slumping back against the couch. You feel full, weak in all the best ways.

He slowly pulls out, stuffing your hole with his fingers to keep his cum from spilling out. “You alright, baby boy?”

You just whine in response. Your limbs feel like lead, your eyelids drooping.

“Yeah, me too.” Wade chuckles. He gently scoops you up, carrying you in his arms. He heads into the bathroom, turning on the tub.

“You did so good,” he coos, pulling off your shirt and setting you in the water. “Was that five or six orgasms?”

You rest your head against his chest, voice slurred and sleepy. “Five, I think…”

“Damn. We’ll get one more next time.” He presses a kiss to your head. “Now sit up for a moment. I wanna get in too.”

You do a lazy round two in the bathtub before passing out on the bed.

Your last thought, all warm and snuggled up with your boyfriend? You wouldn’t trade him for the world.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays! Do you have any zagreus interacting with other gods? Thanks so much

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Other people are learning about Zagreus.

Not that they know it's him, of course. He goes by the moniker prince.

Just enough to direct prayers and pay tributes, but a nameless god standing against Demeter? It's enough to send the whole pantheon in an uproar.

It's enough to send Demeter to heights of rage that Artemis previously thought her incapable of reaching.

There are gardens that her frost can't touch. Fruit she she has no hand in growing.

There are people who will not submit and die as she wishes it, blaming mortals for her daughter's death and so making them pay the price for a lost goddess.

Not even Zeus has rained destruction upon the mortals like Demeter had and not even Zeus can stop her.

It's too much. Too much taken, too much suffering.

Persephone was a sweet girl. But her loss is not worth the life of every mortal upon the earth.

Artemis is with Aphrodite, both of them having been evoked powerfully enough to send shivers down their spine. She leans against her spear and tried to think of any other way to fix this.

It's a town on the edge of collapse, a thick forest between them and the rest of civilization. In spring the journey is long but easy enough, but it hasn't been spring for a long time.

There's no game to hunt. Loved ones are dying. They beg and beg to any god that will listen but while every god can hear them no god can save them.

None but one.

But how would they know? This far out, there only contact is other isolated villages too deep in the world.

"I'm tired," Aphrodite whispers, knees pulled to her chest, something about her coltish in her helplessness.

Artemis has never tried this. She doesn't even know if it will work. But he won't ever find his way here on his own. "Can you keep a secret, Aphrodite?"

She shifts her head enough to look at her with a single garnet eye. "What secret do you have, sister mine?"

"Aphrodite," she says warningly.

She huffs, amusement aging her. "Yes, yes, my silence or my life. What is it?"

Artemis hopes she doesn't regret this. She hopes it works. "Prince Zagreus!"

"What's Zag going to do?" Aphrodite blinks. "He can't even-"

She cuts herself off and Artemis knows she's thinking through the first part, coming to the obvious conclusion and rejecting it out of hand.

"Artemis?"

They both turn and Zagreus is standing there. Not as image or projection like he was the last time they met face to face, but solidly beside her in the flesh.

He grimaces in pain and raises a hand to his side before straightening and forcing his arm down. Whatever it is that keeps him in his father's realm still has some hold on him, it seems.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," he says. There's blood on his teeth. There wasn't any a couple seconds ago. "Oh, hi Aphrodite. Er. Please don't tell anyone."

"It's you?" Aphrodite demands. "You?"

"I am me," he agrees.

Artemis would beat him if they had the time for it. "Can you help them? This village will die. Word of you hasn't reached them and your temples are too far to travel too even if they had."

He grins it's all red. His blood drips down his chin. "It's not going to be pretty."

Artemis has never thought about how exactly the god of life and blood spreads his blessings. She thinks she's regretting that now.

"Pretty's my domain anyway," Aphrodite snaps. "Help them."

Zagreus moves too quickly for Artemis to stop. He grabs her spear and slices down his chest and then there's blood everywhere, pouring out of him, more than should be in any one body.

Aphrodite screams and Artemis wrenches the spear away, horrified. "This is celestial silver! You can't - even gods can't heal from it!"

"Death heals all wounds," he says and there's blood down his chin, spilling out his mouth with his every breath.

Then he's running.

They talk off after him and it's easy to follow his trail, the deluge blood and smell of copper filling her nose as they chase him.

Zagreus is mad. When she wasn't looking he went insane and now she's killed him.

They have to slow him down, have to get him to Hermes. It should be easy, they're goddesses and he's dying, but he stays fast enough to stay just out of their grasps.

He's lose a body's worth of blood a dozen times over and yet still more flows.

He finally trips and falls, giving gurgling breathes.

"Zagreus!" she shouts as she and Aphrodite fall into the snow beside him. "Zagreus, hold on, it's going to be okay."

He laughs and pats her cheek. He's too pale. "Relax. I die all the time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aphrodite demands, trying to put her hands over the wound but it's too long to stem.

Zagreus doesn't answer.

His body goes slack and it takes Artemis several seconds to realize the person screaming is her.

Aphrodite is sitting there shell shocked and bewildered and then Zagreus's body sinks into the earth, not even reacting to Artemis's attempts to hold on.

"Oh."

She looks up and Aphrodite is looking behind them. Artemis slowly follows her gaze.

Every place blood touched the ground, there now grows bushes of bright purple berries, more vibrant than any fruit she's seen grow that shade. They grow thick and fat on every branch and if there anything like the other food in Prince's gardens, it will keep them alive and they'll be able to grow more themselves.

If they're willing to sacrifice the blood.

The next time Artemis sees Zagreus, she's going to kill him.

[worldlxvlys]

i just read part 15 AND NOW I NEED PART 16. here's an idea (if you want). here it goes: fluff. LMAO (it wasn't funny) okay so my idea is that reader finds out chris has been to a party and fucked a girl there (love me some angsty shit)

texts w/ dwb! chris (part 16)

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, cursing, angst to fluffy ending

dwb! chris masterlist

a/n: ok so these two requests are very similar so i kinda combined them, so basically reader finds out about his supplier being flirty and assumes that chris cheats but he doesn’t actually cheat. i think it works better with the storyline cause if he had cheated i wouldn’t have reader go back to him.

hope you still like it, i promise it’s still angsty <333

when i opened my door, chris stood there with flowers in his hand, in the pouring rain.

before i could even get a word out he started talking.

“you are way more than a business transaction to me. i’m not using you for sex, and i’m definitely not cheating on you. i would never do anything to hurt you. i can’t lose you. i won’t lose you. you could curse me out and yell at me for the rest of my life and i still wouldn’t leave you alone. i’d rather have you hate me for the rest of your life than not be a part of it. “

i just stood there staring and listening, taking in the fact that he was standing at my door, soaking wet, with my favorite kind of flowers in his hand. he looked desperate, like he wouldn’t be able to live if i didn’t believe him. i searched his eyes as he spoke, looking and failing to see any signs of dishonesty.

“and i swear i did not cheat on you with my supplier. i know she’s a very touchy person, but i really didn’t think anything of it. i will call her right now and tell her that she needs to tone it down and that i am happily taken and unavailable. i honestly should have done that from the start, but i didn’t think she was flirting with me. “

when i heard that his supplier was being touchy and laughing with him, i just jumped to conclusions. he never actually gave me any reason to believe he would cheat on me.

“the last thing i ever want to do is make you uncomfortable or think, for even a second, that i would cheat on you. i am so so sorry, baby. i will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if that’s what it takes. there is no one else for me, it’s just you. it’ll only ever be you. if you don’t believe anything else that i’ve said, believe that. “

“look-“ he started. i stepped outside, into the rain, interrupting him “stop talking”.

i pulled his face to mine by his shirt, placing my lips on his. our lips moved against each others in perfect sync, as the water droplets continued to fall down our bodies.

as i pulled away to talk, his lips chased mine.

“i’m sorry chris. i shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and made assumptions. i’ve been cheated on and lied to in the past, but i should’ve known that you aren’t like that. i trust you with my life, chris. “ he grinned at that.

“so we agree that we were both in the wrong, then ?” he asked, pressing his forehead to mine.

“definitely” i agreed.

“ok good. can we go inside then? it’s freezing out here” he said, making us both laugh.

“yeah, sorry. i just couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a rain kiss” we continued to laugh as we went inside to warm up.

————————-

hehehe rain kisssss :)

<33333

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @chanelsturn @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @sosmatt @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @wh0szjoanna

[sky-kiss]

prompt: Raphael giving a genuine love confession to tav (that is unintelligible due to him being a devil…a too subtle love confesion?… maybe something that sounds like a threat or an attempt for deal for their soul? i just would like if you could show me this clown being a failure at emotions XD)

Raphael kept his word. 

There’s no ambush waiting for her in the House of Hope. It’s only Raphael, resplendent in a black silk shirt. It’s a far cry from the elegant doublet he favors, simultaneously more expensive and relaxed. Relaxed is what she fixates on; a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. The devil’s smile could nearly pass for genuine. 

He offers his arm, helping Tav into her seat. Raphael has left nothing to chance: the table is set, lavishly. The wine is rich and decadent, the finest vintages in his expansive cellar. The cost must amount to a small fortune, but the devil spares it no more than a passing thought; what Tav has provided is infinitely more valuable. 

The Crown of Karsus. The key to his freedom and his heart's desire. One thousand years of longing brought to a suitably climactic conclusion. The cambion settles into his seat with a small sigh, massaging his forehead. The nightmare will pass. He will establish himself as Archdevil Supreme. He will…

“You’re more subdued than I would have expected,” Tav says, tracing the rim of her glass. A bruise stretches from the curve of her jaw to the bridge of her nose, splotchy and ugly, a blemish on an otherwise lovely face. It must hurt; when she smiles, she winces. “No theatrics? I’d have expected an impromptu poetry recital if nothing else.” 

“Loathe as I am to disappoint you, pet, I have nothing to offer.” 

“I understand.” Tav slumps in her chair. The newly christened hero of Baldur’s Gate looks small, hair wild, bags rimming her eyes from too many sleepless nights. “It’s wonderful to reach the end. But…” The smile and its accompanying wince. “I just find myself feeling tired.” 

He dislikes seeing her like this: small, delicate, and yielding. It isn’t his mouse. His pet is fire and drive, her ambition mated to his own. The cambion hums, tapping his jaw. “And still you’d return to the Gate. You’ll play the hero.” 

Tav chuckles and finally sips the wine. He considers slipping a restorative draught into her next cup if only to deal with the damned bruise. He hates looking at it, hates seeing his toys marked by a hand other than his. “Someone has to restore the city.”

“Shall it be redemption, mouse? Striving to set right sins you barely remember?” She doesn’t respond. He knows he’s struck a nerve. In a perfect world, she’d rage at him, all her delicious fury brought to bear. Raphael cocks his head to the side. He speaks the words carefully, slowly, as if tasting a fresh dish and still determining the flavor. “Let it die, hero. Wretched as your mortality may be, it is full of such delicious potential. If you must tie a millstone around that lovely neck…” he frowns. Tav watches him, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed, as if she’s waiting. As if she expects what he’s about to say. He loathes it; the damned little thing should never have been allowed so close. “Let it be mine. Serve me.” 

“Serve you?” She laughs. “Raphael, I’ve only just reclaimed my life. Why would I put it in your hands?” 

“Why not? Have I not been reasonable? Have I not treated you well?” 

“For a devil.” Conditional approval. Fury roils in his belly. 

“You would have power and wealth. Everything a mortal desired. Under my yoke, you will be kept young and beautiful. We will dine like this every night.” 

Tav licks her lips. The House is too warm, and she is so mortal. Her eyes glitter with something. Not desire, not strictly, but something like pity. “And what? I kill your enemies? I run your errands? Warm your bed?” 

The stab of want threatens to choke him. When he speaks, it’s only just above a growl, the words rumbling through them. “Yes. Eternally.”

“Raphael.” she sighs, scrubbing a hand through her hair. Messy, like all her kin. He wants so badly to impose order. If he could only have her if she would only submit. The hero stands, crossing to him. It’s a strange twist. The mouse touches his cheek. Her skin is warm. An inane voice in his head chants to him: take her, taste her. He wants to taste her. “I should go.” 

He could make her stay, could break her. But it would taste like ash on his tongue. He holds his head high, smirking. “You will receive no better offer.” 

She doesn’t backpedal, just presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re probably right. Give them hell, devil.” 

And as is so often the case, he’s left alone. 

[oh-snapperss]

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when. 

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home. 

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them. 

Home is where Cleo is. 

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.” 

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down. 

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat. 

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo. 

BANG. 

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it. 

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it. 

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.” 

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones. 

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear. 

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. . 

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same. 

Not this time. Never this time. 

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight. 

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.” 

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.” 

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees. 

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them. 

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone. 

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet. 

“They’re coming,” he says. 

It’s time. 

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him. 

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing. 

Run. 

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill. 

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly. 

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not. 

And he won’t die by Cleo. 

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo. 

Home. He wants to go home. 

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired. 

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home. 

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home. 

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over. 

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home. 

[thedevilspearl]

The brothers unintentionally finding out Mc has a secret porn account where they upload videos of themselves with different people(OR DIFFERENT DEMONS >UO)/relieving themselves

finding out mc has onlydevils — all brothers

a/n: if you didn’t realise, onlydevils is the devildom version of onlyfans lol i tried to be creative but that’s the best i could do. thank you for this idea anon, i absolutely love it!!!

tags: no gender specified, no explicit smut but consistent discussion of mature content so minors do not interact!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 would be the most surprised and probably the most avoidant after finding out. he’s not the happiest about it, but it’s also not the end of his world. he knows you have your reason to do it so he doesn’t pry. but he is interested and would make an undercover burner account to see what all the fuss is about. and oh man, you take his breath away. late nights in his office always end up with him making a mess of himself at his desk after watching your videos for hours. he would confront you about it after he’s had his fun (which would last months) and would only ever ask you to stop if your relationship became serious, as in, endgame.

the first words out of 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍’s mouth would be “what the hell are ya doing it for? stop it! ain’t nobody gotta see ya doing all that!” this doesn’t come from a place of trying to control you, but rather, it’s entirely out of jealousy and his instinctual need to protect you, even if it doesn’t come out the right way. of course, if you’re persistent in wanting to continue, he won’t stop you. however, it deeply upsets him knowing others see you in your most intimate act, and some even take part in it. he doesn’t know how to act, or react, and it would require a lot of time and conversation to understand it all and bring his feelings to a conclusion. but he wouldn’t be opposed to taking part in the content with you. he knows exactly how to make hotter content.

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 is sort of stuck in the middle. he is definitely surprised but he’s also not surprised because you truly are something else. he knew that from the beginning. but this is different. you would never expect him to find out about it, let alone confront you. but he would be the first to let you know that he knows. and he hopes that none of his brothers know so that it can be your dirty little secret. he would never take part in your content, but he would surely give suggestions and feedback to help you improve. he’d maybe slip in some suggestions secretly catered to his own tastes, but you’d realise straight away and film an entire video just for him. his criticisms are worth a lot and so is his attention to detail in your content.

power to the people, is what 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍 likes to say. upon finding out, he was taken aback by many feelings but in the end, he was impressed. he is definitely irked seeing you film content with other people, other demons, some of those are people he knows. and he cannot stand it because he wishes to be the only one to see you like that, to do those things with you. he’d let you do your thing but if things ever became serious between you, he’d want some boundaries in place. and if you want to continue, he would certainly become your new partner. he’d never show his face but he’d have no qualms showing your viewers how to please you better than anyone you ever had.

believe it or not, 𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 would be one of the last to find out because it’s something he would never expect to stumble across. in fact, you kept on the lowdown so well that he never would have known had you not accidentally slipped up. he asked if you were free one night and you casually said “sorry, asmo, but i’m busy filming content tonight” and so began his hunt in finding out what exactly it is that you film, and he hits the gold mine. as soon as he does, he’s all up in your business wanting to know everything, and he most certainly wants to take part. screw all those other demons. you could make millions together, if that’s what you want. he’d become a most loyal and devoted partner.

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁 was just looking for something to get him going. it was a rough day at practise and his usual hunger was taken over by a hunger for pleasure. and upon looking for some content, he came across a certain trending human. he didn’t think it would be you. it had to be someone else. but when he clicked on a video after purchasing it….well, his cock grew and hardened faster than it ever did before, simply from seeing you touch yourself in in front of a camera, making eye contact with him through a screen and moaning so sweetly. he instantly becomes a loyal follower. but beel unintentionally found your account, so he would never intentionally confront you about it. he’d wait for you to open up, and he’d support your every decision.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 isn’t proud of how he stumbled upon your account. to be honest, he didn’t have an onlydevils account until one day, he was super horny and used beel’s account to watch some stuff. little did he know, beel had been watching his precious human doing all sorts of dirty things and that’s how he discovered it. so he quickly makes his own account and blows all of his money on your content, watching you go from pleasuring yourself with toys to getting lain into by some other demon. he’d wish for you to stop if you got serious with him, but other than that, your videos become the only thing he can use to get off, and soon he craves the real thing more and more.

[appleblueberry-pie]

OOOHHHH, OKAY HERE MY REQUEST FOR YANDERE MILE MORALES SCENARIO! I imagine him being the type of guy to break into the reader's locker and leave a CD(the song is probably cheesy like Radiohead-creep) while leaving a sticky note like “I really, really, like you. And I wanna get to know you more, can you meet at [insert abandoned building here] ❣️”~secret admirer (*cough* it's Miles *cough*) This freaks the reader out, cuz they've been dealing with this bs for 3 months and the authorities can't do shit, can I request the reader confronting their “secret admirer”? 🥺

N/A: I hope you heard me evilly laugh when I first read this. Boutta spill all of my delusions on this. Also i've never written worse luck than the reader had in this one.

Be Mine? Yes or No.

It's about ten minutes before first period begins and you've already spent five of them rereading the 20th love letter you've received over the course of a few months. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you continue to find more and more things to worry about in this letter. You'd think that this person would stop pestering you, but they really weren't. At all whatsoever. The same little sweet names they'd compliment you with. The same main idea they had in the previous note continuing into the next one. This has been happening over and over.

And it was so, so sweet when this fiasco first started. When you first opened your locker and it was placed so nicely in the center as if someone carefully placed it there. It was definitely spritzed with some kind of cologne, because no scent from someone just rubs off onto a letter like that. The beautiful envelope it was put in, the paper on the inside. The neat handwriting that was clearly practiced just to put some love onto the paper for you to hopefully absorb. And it worked the first three times, but it just kept getting weirder from there.

The way they wrote to you was extremely genuine, something that was hard to find in relationships nowadays. It really made you want to meet this person. They mixed in casual sweet names in Spanish into the writing in a way that wasn't hard for you to understand at all. They definitely had a crush on you. But then they began mentioning you in ways that seemed to make you borderline uncomfortable. Mentioning your beautiful hair, your eyes, your lips, the way you spoke, how you smelled. How they'd watch you and your friends in the park. Slipping in a few mentions of you walking to and from a corner store nobody in your school but you knew about.

They would write about how they could help you with specific classes that they knew you were struggling with. What foods they theorized you don't like(they were right), your type of man and how they fit that exact description, if not, more. How he knows he's the one you'd want and need. How the two of you are meant to be, he'd love you the way you need to be loved and he cant wait to actually meet you. How he'd bring you to the address of your favorite breakfast spot that no one should know about and he'd buy you that plate you always wanted to get that you couldn't afford. How he'd spoil you and-

All of this tension he built up on his own, which was all fueled by his own delusions, drew you to the conclusion that this nigga needed to be put in his place. You wanted a boyfriend. Not a fucking perverted stalker. Whoever this was, he was taking it too far, and was ultimately scaring you. It took you fifteen of these letters for you to realize that he wasn't actually slipping the letter into the locker between the cracks, but he was putting in the real code of your lock to properly unlock it. How he found it out, you have no idea. You didn't know what this guy was capable of and didn't know if he'd hurt you if you said no. But it had to be done somehow or he'd take shit too far and kidnap you or some crazy shit like that.

None of the school officials would help you because they're pieces of shit. Your friends tell you to bag him like dumbasses, and what the fuck are your parents gonna do? Yell at the dean and stand by your locker all day to wait for the guy?? You were all alone in this. So the most reasonable thing you came up with is to bluntly write to him to meet you after school at the park you and your friends go to often since he knows the spot already.

And quite literally the day after, you sat at the bench at the park after school, and he showed up.

You remember being so damn scared. What if he was big and burly and angry? What if he was one of the popular boys and would record the entire interaction? What if he follows you back home? What does he plan to do once you try to tell him off? You shouldn't have done this. The setting sun wasn't comforting you. The abandoned playground that usually was bustling with squealing kids was just making you more nervous. It was silent and cold today, but your mind just wouldn't shut up. Suddenly, the school uniform you wore wasn't as comfortable and you clutched your backpack closer to your body.

The wind blew gently on your bare knees and you heard someone call out your name. You flinched and felt your heart drop and turned to see the source of the voice, hoping for the worst. There was a boy sitting on a bench right next to yours. He was staring at you. It made you feel....unsettled and something else you couldn't put your finger on. To calm yourself, you listed his characteristics in his head. He was....reasonably attractive. Light brown eyes. Sculpted face. A light Spanish accent to his voice exactly how you'd imagine. Neat braids on his head. But something about his aura messed with you. He wasn't as good as he portrayed himself to be. You didn't want to speak and watched him stand from his spot to sit next to you on your bench. You clutched your bag to your chest as you watched him try to calmly approach you without making you too nervous.

With nervous eyes on him, he sits down next to you, letting a small smile grace his lips. "Hey, ma...how you doin'?" He sounded like he was trying to lure a scared dog into his arms. But it was awkward because he was trying to act normal with his dream girl and it was an actual human being and not a dog. "....fine." You respond. He scratches his nape and averted his eyes for a quick second. He really wanted to know why you wanted to talk to him. You gave no context within your letter, and it was a blessing, nonetheless. You actually responded to him. He predicted that he wouldn't get one for another good three weeks to two months almost. But this must be serious. He prepared himself for all possible scenarios that this could end up being.

"So....why'd you want to meet all of a sudden? It's getting late and I don't want you going home in the dark, you know?" You nod and take a deep breath, scared as fuck for how this could end. "Yeah.....so....I just wanted to tell you that I just- I don't want to be with you." It felt like you had to pull the words out of your throat for him to hear. You saw his face drop and decided to explain before he did anything else. "Like....I don't know you. I just realized that. You know so much about me and about my friends and the places I go to. I don't know a damn thing- Are you stalking me??" You turn to face him and stare into his wide eyes. He almost seemed as if he was caught doing some weird shit. And it was weird.

The silence started to make you angry when you realized he probably has been following you all this time. He shakes his head and sits up. "No...no, I haven't been stalking you at all, ma, I promise. I never want to make you uncomfortable, ever. Where are you getting that?" Oh, so now he's gaslighting you. If you brought all of his envelopes to this meeting, you would've dumped all of the evidence on his lap. You roll your eyes, grab your bag, and stand to leave. He stands at the same time as you when he sees you're trying to leave and stands in your way. "Wait, wait, wait, that's it? You not gon' give me a chance?" "A chance? Nigga, you lost your chance when you started being weird and fucking acting like you wasn't being weird this entire time!"

It was hard to get mad at you or reason with you. You were too pretty to get mad at even when you were nearly yelling in his face. And he had no logical reason to behave the way he was behaving, either. So, he might lose you unless he does something risky. And to risk your trust and love is something he doesn't want on the line.

You watch him watch you leave and he picks up his bag as well. The street lights turn on once it gets dark enough and Miles interrupts you walking away. "I'm not letting you walk home in the dark, Y/n." You flinch at his voice and growl a groan in fuming anger. An older lady passes the both of you and praises the mystery boy for being such a good gentleman and how 'there needs to be more of you out on these streets'. You almost slapped the fuck out of her for even hyping him up. He gives her a beautiful smile and tells her to get home safe, while walking you in the direction of your home.

He turns back to you and almost laughs at the face you're making. "I wonder how your mom would feel about you going home in the dark." "Mind yo fucking business." He happily leaves it there, continuing to walk with you down the street. Maybe this way, he can have more than one excuse to continue walking you home from now on. "Ion even know yo name." You mutter under your breath and Miles smiles at you. "My name is Miles. Great to finally meet you in person, Mami." You scoff and gladly let him scroll on his phone. You tried to speed ahead of him in hopes he'd stay at his slower pace, but he always caught up to you. You inwardly groan, knowing he'd probably make it to your door before you get rid of him.

"Glad to know the name of the person who's been stalking me. Now I can report you officially." You smirk at him and he gives one right back. "Just a name won't cut it, ma." "I got photos." "Where?" He hands you your phone back and you snatch it, realizing he was scrolling on your phone the whole time AND deleted your photo evidence. Before you can shove him into the street for a car to run him over, your mom bursts the door open and eyes the boy next to you. "Girl, you finally brought someone home with you." You didn't even realize you were on your street, better yet, your house. And your mom liked him already??

Your face dropped as you approached the front door. "No, no, no, it's not like that-" "What's your name, sweetie?" Miles steps up to the door and holds out his hand for her to shake, a beaming smile on his face. "My name is Miles Morales, ma'am." She shakes his hand before scrunching her eyebrows. " 'Morales'? You know Rio??" "That's my mamá, right there." Horrifying, how quickly a new relationship between the two bloomed right before your eyes as they continued to converse.

How are you going to get out of this? Your stalker is making great friends with your mom, no one can help because he deleted the evidence, and you would soon find out the next morning at school that your locker was clean of envelopes as well. Nothing was working in your favor and you realized that there was no way to escape. He included himself into your life so easily, when you wanted him out, out, out. You hated this shit, but he seemed to love it, sending you a look of appreciation as you both stepped into your abode.

Miles was so grateful for having you as a part of his life. The stars aligned and allowed you both a chance at beauty and growth. He wouldn't let this opportunity waste away like he had done many times in the past. You were his chance at redemption for all of the things he had done and the things that he planned to do later on. You were finally his.

[apocalyp-tech-a]

Remember in Season 1, Episode 1 Aftermath, Tech says "I am merely stating a theoretical hypothesis based on factual data?" Well, that's what I did, I made a "logical conclusion." From Lama Su coming back when we thought he was dead to the infamous "domicile," it was all factual evidence that was meant to push us in a direction of hoping that Tech would return and that CX-2 could be the way he does it. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. There's an underlying reason that I love Tech not based on just his handsome looks. I don't claim to have an exceptional mind like him and I don't intend to convince anyone that CX-2 was Tech, but I do want to explain how it could be construed through the way that character was presented as well as the possibility of Tech's return in general, that he could have been and none of us were wrong or "losers" to think so.

45 70 Reasons and more well on the way, lol...

General reasons:

*Tech is never seen actually dying.

*Hemlock being untrustworthy source of death certificate.

*The return of many thought to be dead characters in past Star Wars from Darth Maul who was sliced in half to Lama Su - the door closed on him and we thought he was getting shot by troopers only to show up alive later and this happened in The Bad Batch itself.

*CX-2 is shown walking toward the 'light' after dropping off Omega, symbolically toward a future redemption. @astrovoidy

*Height change on starwars.com

*The word 'dead' danced around on official sites and by BB employees

*the similarities to Winter soldier @on-a-quest

*the cryptic tweets that showcased reborn characters like Gandalf

*The official poster of CX-2 shows him in 'good' light. @eriexplosion AND CX-2 is shown looking up and to the side the way the original CF99 members are positioned and facing in their poster as if CX-2 is also a CF99 member

*other people in professional settings like New Rock Stars on youtube thought the same exact thing as well as casual viewers

*the large focus on CX-2, over multiple episodes

*misleading title of last episode "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

*Tech being smart enough to find a solution

*If Season 2 could be compared to Empire Strikes Back, Tech was taken from us the way Han Solo was, but Han Solo was returned so surely Tech would be as well

*no one expected a main ensemble character permadeath

*the fight with Crosshair music had hints of "Plan 99" in it

*Tech’s whole big conversation with Romar was about culture and memory, and he helped Romar restoring a data repository. Between the implication that Tech would have lost his memories and Phee saying, “Tech’s brain was the databank, not mine,” you could easily see that as foreshadowing for Tech getting his memories back. @heyclickadee

*All the little one line reminders and goggles shots up through episode twelve only serve to make the audience want Tech back. They aren’t closure, they’re reminders of his absence. [Tech never being quite mourned.] @heyclickadee

*The goggles are lit, or look like they’re lit, in every scene they’re in except the last one, which sure makes all those earlier shots deliberate. @heyclickadee *CX-2 could have killed all of them at different moments, but chose not to (shooting pilot instead of Hunter for example)

Physical and character similarities:

*the shrimp posture

*the kick in the fight similar to droid kick in S1E1

*the similar hand to hand combat style

*the shooting accuracy- ipsium cave/ plan 99

*the elegant deliberate movement especially of hands and fingers

*the animated head and body when speaking

*the helmet – even has his hairline @jorolle

*the viewfinder similar to Tech's and utilized just as often

*the pouches(!!!)

*the limberness and agility

*the confident capability

*the crouching/getting on one knee - Tech is an infamous croucher!

*the deviant nature – ignoring orders

*the technology know how

*the flying – some say the turn on Teth was a Tech Turn

*the extraness of tool/weapon twirl

*armpad like Tech's datapad @wolveria

*CX-2's ship has similarities to the Marauder @wolveria

*Tech CC-9902 / CX-2 - both end in 2 @wolveria

*We are reminded this season that Tech was especially good at decryption. What do we see CX-2 doing on Phee’s ship? Yeah. @heyclickadee

*Season two went out of its way to establish that Tech has a high pain tolerance, is a good close range fighter (he won a life-or-death fight with a guy when he had that broken femur), quick processing speed, and is an excellent shot. All skills we see CX-2 exhibit. @heyclickadee

The 'British' accent, speech inflection, pronunciation. and vocabulary (this alone is enough to convince anyone...):

'You better get back HERE." - "I know the girl is HERE."

"The fifth IS Omega." - "The girl IS alive."

"Who are you?" - "Who are you?"

"Naveecomputah." - "Neveecomputah."

"DOMICILE." - "DOMICLE."

Cinematic framing similarities:

*the limping

*the coming out of the water @lilacjunimo

*hooking the rappel hook rappelling down was like dangling off the rail car

*the boulder moving

*helmet viewpoint from CX-2 in finale, only BB members ever had that

Conjectural situations of suspicion:

*the beef with Crosshair

*the constant surviving

*the pausing when choking Crosshair

*the pausing to look at Phee

*The implications that Crosshair seems to know something about CX-2 (he wants to get out of dodge when he knows CX-2 is coming), and the intense lingering guilt Crosshair feels—and which is never dealt with! It’s still there through the finale—implying he knows or suspects it’s Tech. @heyclickadee

*“Whatever they did to you, whatever you’ve done, you’re still one of us,” offered by Rex towards the CXs @heyclickadee

*Crosshair’s character arc this season being partly about realizing that anyone can change and that no one is really beyond saving, which would have continued going somewhere if he thought CX-2 was Tech and considered him beyond saving, but then changed his mind and realized he needed to try. Notice that he does not engage CX-2 in 11 like he did in 7, and that this comes after his revelation about giving people a chance in 9. @heyclickadee

*CX-2 is even more Tech like in 11 than he was in 6 and 7. This implies that he could be starting to wake up, and that almost killing Crosshair triggered that. He doesn’t kill anyone except one of his own guys on Pabu (or Phee) even though it would make his job much easier. He even has Hunter and Wrecker in his sights and moves his aim to not shoot them directly. @heyclickadee

*Crosshair has no way to know that the CX’d clones come out different and that their identities are erased unless it happened to someone we know. In fact, there’s not reason for the CX plot to exist unless that horrific thing happens to someone we know. @heyclickadee

*The first episode of the show starts out with Hunter covering for someone who supposedly died in a fall. In fact, there are direct parallels in the lines: “Where’s the Jedi?” “I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.” vs “Where’s Tech?” “Omega…Tech didn’t make it.” I’m not saying Hunter was covering for Tech; I am saying that is the only place in the script where we see those phrases matched up. @heyclickadee

*Tech being CX-2 would have fit in perfectly with each member of the batch experiencing a traumatic loss (and regaining) of agency that correlated directly to who and how they are as people. @heyclickadee

Foreshadowing lines:

*More machine than man, percentage wise at least.

*Better late than dead.

*See you around, Brown Eyes.

*Tech's not gone.

*The operative's gone rogue.

*Romar saying he's a survivor and Tech's look at him.

*Don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers. @heyclickadee

Abandoned storyline reasons:

*The romance with Phee, surely it wouldn't be abandoned!? 🙄😡

*CX-2's death being anticlimactic

*The finale seeming rushed and incomplete

*Actors saying there were script changes

*CX-2's accent in the finale was not only not like Tech's as it was in previous episodes, it wasn't even a clone accent (wtf was that) signaling a script change

@wolveria made a great analysis here with her Tech-Genda !

@heyclickadee gave a great analysis here and also great evidence, more in comments!

@vivaislenska has a list as well with some of these points!

@eriexplosion has a great analysis here!

Having said that, here are some reasons it may not have been him:

*Too many characters coming back from the dead.

*The way he says 'clones' in Infiltration was more reg accent.

*Tech's line in the cave to Omega which "was a big one to me” in retrospect: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on."

As for the intentions of the writers to either have been forced to change the script, but can't admit it due to NDAs or if they truly meant for CX-2 to be Crosshair's foil which to me was unclear, especially with all of the evidence above, I don't know. At least they could have made CX-2 talk and move like a reg. Making him talk and walk like Tech was kind of cruel on top of a cruel we already experienced in Plan 99. I am not personally attacking the writers, I still love Season 1 and 2 and most of Season 3, but I wish I knew what happened behind the scenes with this and I know I'm not the only one. I think this is the last time I'll personally address Season 3 or the finale unless to support other commentators/creators and for my own fix-it and art and writing. And I look forward to seeing everyone else's works as well and hope no one gives up this beautiful Batch or fandom as I almost did. Canon seems done with him, he belongs to us now. 💜

And if anyone has anything I missed (I'm sure I'll think of more myself), feel free to comment or reblog with that addition or a link to your own post and/or I can edit the OP to include it and tag you. Also, don't feel like you can't make your own post about this subject! But I do hope this maybe helped anyone still dealing with the 'aftermath' like me, to know you're not alone, and you did not read too much into it.

(In retrospect, I can't believe they killed him though, lol. What the kriff were they thinking!?! #too handsome to die #too awesome to die)

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Hypothetically speaking" - Juice Ortiz x Reader

SUMMARY: It's basic etiquette to not try your luck with a friend's girl. But when that friends seems to have no respect for the girl, perhaps it's basic etiquette to give her the affection she deserves.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3k

Truthfully, everyone knew it wasn't going to work out - everyone except for you. Whether you are too pure or delusional, the thought never even occured to you, while the other members of the motorcycle club knew the bitter end the moment they saw you. At first, none of them thought much of it. That's just how Jax Teller rolled, there is nothing new in that matter. It was the subsequent weeks that made them dread the inevitable:

Jax brought you around the clubhouse to help out with the accounting, housekeeping or party-throwing. Usually, you were holding a pan, a broom or a pen in your hand. Or certain other things whenever Jax needed tending to his more carnal desires.

Nonetheless, the other Sons have gotten to know you personally and it was that new friendship that bore dread in their chests. You seemed to have a curious talent for making people feel seen. Even the smallest of details never escaped your attention. Refilling the bar for the night, you'd always find time to ask Happy about his mother's health and how he was holding up. Chibs and Tig have come to expect you to ask them about their children. Their answers rarely changed and so did yours: 'I'm sure they're thinking about you.' The biggest surprise came from the prospects as they had grown accustomed to everyone pushing them around and yelling at them. So when you'd ask them whether they were hungry, at first they were sure it was some kind of a test or a ruse.

For Juice, those little signs of a soft heart were nails in his coffin. Whenever he was spending several hours in front of the computer, you'd appear with a drink and a small snack. On top of that, you always made it seem like these small acts of service are something obvious - it would be entirely strange to not care for others simply because you can. Usually, your presence would slow down his progress as Juice was willing to exchange his worktime for a conversation with you. As desperate as it may sound, he came to the conclusion that his job will still be there in twenty minutes but you will be gone the moment Jax enters the clubhouse and takes you away. Sometimes he wondered if he had Teller's charisma, would you give him a chance? Considering you were seeing his friend, he never planned on acting on his feelings. Even the thought made him cringe: fantasizing about fellow member's girl? That's a rather large 'no-go'.

As usual, the dread settled in the men's chests when you entered the clubhouse. Then, it grew ten sizes as they all silently realised that the inevitable was about to play out in front of their hungover eyes. You passed the threshold in a somewhat hesitant manner like you always did, unsure whether you're interrupting something or are even wanted there. Bobby, Tig and Chibs greet you but they're unable to hide a strange sadness to them. None the wiser, you chalk up their lack of humour to the aftermath of a night filled with vices.

The clubhouse is a temporary ruin. Bottles and glasses are scattered across all flat surfaces. One of the tables is slanted, missing one of its legs. A few pairs of bright-coloured underwear are lying here and there. Something tells you that yesterday you missed a truly historic night of fun.

"Is Jax around?" you ask. The men exchange a meaningful gaze but it goes unnoticed by you. "He left his shirt at mine yesterday afternoon, I was hoping to return it."

Tig's face cringes. There's a sorry look in his eyes. "Sweetheart-"

"He just left, actually," Bobby interjects. "Don't know when he'll be back."

You look between them, beginning to sense tension. "Alright," you answer, unsure what to make of the situation. "Then I'll just leave it in the dorm room."

Their silence makes you wary like there's a piece of information that you're missing while it's fairly obvious to others; something hidden in plain sight. You walk past them, when Tig's conscience puts up a fight once more. He makes a step towards you, hoping to stop the disaster about to unfold. Chibs, however, grabs his arm before the man can realise his plan.

"He's made his bed, brother," the Scotsman says in a low voice lest you hear their conversation.

"Come on, man," Trager answers with a look of disbelief on his face. "She doesn't deserve that."

"Aye, she doesn't." The man nods. His stern expression reveals that he, too, is more than unhappy with the unfolding events. "But it's already happened."

Juice is either really lucky or terribly unlucky to be walking down the corridor at the same time as you. His lips widen in a smile and he's about to call out to you, when he notices the white t-shirt in your hand. In a split second of considering his selfishness and your feelings, Juice decided to act against his own interest. He picks up his pace and manages to block the dorm room door just as you were about to put your hand on the handle.

"You really don't want to go in there. Trust me." Juice is trying his best to sound like he's joking but he's not a good liar - especially when you're the one he's attempting to deceive. True feelings are slipping through the cracks and you notice his nervousness.

"What do you mean?" you ask. The weirdness of the guys' behaviour that day is putting you on edge. What on Earth is going on? "It's not like there's a biological warfare behind that door."

Two laughing voices are audible from inside the room: one belongs to Jax, the other probably to a woman. Something stirs inside you, anxious and dreadful but you push it further down. No need to get upset before you get all the facts, right?

"See? Everything's fine," you say to Juice, although the reassurance is really for yourself.

The door swings open with a slight moan of the hinges. Then, as you take in the scene before you, it feels like time has slowed to a halt. Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed, scandily clad in the thin bedsheets. Maybe he covered himself when he heard the door open or he wasn't planning on getting up just yet. In the bathroom doorway stands Ima, dressed in a rather tacky purple lingerie - the cheap kind that desperately tries to have some semblance of luxury. Had the situation been less agitating, maybe you'd think that it's a fitting piece of garment for a woman of her sort.

It's hard to say whether it's the shock or resilience but you manage to keep yourself whole. The last thing you're going to do is cause a scene.

"Brought your shirt." You disturb the akward silence. Jax's expression is unreadable but Ima appears rather amused - there's a sly grin on her face. Her quiet snickering makes tears pool in your eyes. "Thought you might want it back."

Wanting to evacuate as fast as you can, you lay the t-shirt on the dresser by the door and turn around to leave the room. Juice hesitantly whispers your name as you brush past him but you can only muster a quiet apology.

Jax, suddenly realising the consequences of yesterday's impulsiveness, hastily puts on a pair of pants. He keeps yelling your name, begging you to stop and let him talk to you properly but you don't give in. Running out of the dorm room, he's stopped by Juice, who grabs his arm.

"I think you've done enough, man," Ortiz states in an angered tone.

For a moment, the two of them stare each other down in silence. The tension feels like a forest fire - one moment of carelessness might lead to a true disaster.

Both men are aware of the other's affections. It is only now that they admit this knowledge.

"You need to back off," Jax whispers. Juice is disillusioned that the Vice President would have no inhibitions in caving his face in.

But lovers oh-so-frequently tend to grow just a little unwise the more they love. Perhaps that has made all the difference on that dreadful morning.

"No," Juice says while shaking his head, "I think I should go after the crying girl who just saw her boyfriend naked in a bed with someone else."

"That's not your concern."

Looking over the blond's shoulder, Juice catches Ima's malicious amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing and not for a moment did she feel bad about it. When he looks at Jax again, his dark eyes carry more contempt than anger. "Apparently, she's not your concern either."

Before the young Teller can continue their argument, Ortiz is running down the hallway. Bobby, Chibs and Tig ask him something but he only gives them a disinterested 'later' and continues his search for you.

Despite the perfect view of the parking lot from the rooftop, you didn't notice Juice approaching you. Only when you heard the rattling of the ladder did a wave of shame flood your mind. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this, especially people of formidable grit. Some part of you dreaded being considered weak. If you were just a little more honest with yourself, maybe you'd realise that what you were truly afraid of, was the outside confirmation of what you'd already believed about yourself - too weak, too emotional to ever fit in this life.

The shame, however, seems to evaporate the moment you see Juice's apologetic expression. He always had a strange air about him, an aura you couldn't quite explain. Something about the man makes you think that you could tell him the most asinine or embarrassing thing and he would never think less of you.

With a hesitant, quiet 'hey', Juice sits down next to you. Despite his own desires, he leaves a gap between the two of you. His eyes keep switching between looking at his fiddling hands or the side of your face as though he's unsure what's the correct course of action.

"I'm stupid, aren't I?" you finally speak up. Turning your head to look at Juice, you notice a sudden change in his expression - for some reason, he looks like he's about to burst into tears, too. "Believing that he would settle for me?"

There's so much he wants to say. An entire monologue is prickling at his tongue. You'd be the one settling for him, not the other way around. Never. But Juice manages to keep those thoughts to himself for now as they are not what you need to hear at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, one day he'll get to show you that whoever you decide to marry, no matter how noble or rich, you will be the one settling for them.

"There's only one stupid person in this situation and it's not you," he says in a serious yet gentle tone. "Okay, maybe three stupid people."

Despite his resolve, Juice is only a man and he, too, must break at some point. His hand fearfully reaches for your cheek. When you don't pull away, he hesitantly wipes away a tear rolling down your face.

"Three?" you ask in a quiet voice.

"Jax is one, for obvious reasons." With the back of his hand, Juice wipes away the other side of your face. "Ima is two. And the third... is me."

Confused, you furrow your eyebrows. "You? You're not stupid, Juice. Why would you say that?"

"I'm the king of stupid, actually." He lets out an airy, bitter chuckle. Suddenly feeling small, he retracts his arm. "I just tried to cover for my dick friend, so the girl I'm in love with doesn't get her heart broken. Extra stupid points for running after her like a lost puppy that just wants to make her happy."

"That sounds more lovely than stupid," you manage to whisper before another wave of emotions wreaks havoc. Tears stream down your face again but this time it's not only the bad feelings - there's something nice among them, too. A sense of relief and belonging; an overwhelming realisation that you're loved as a person and not only as a woman.

He doesn't complain or lecture you. Neither does he attempt empty words of comfort and encouragement. Juice doesn't know what he should say, so he settles for silence. However, his quietness speaks volumes. With a soft expression on his face, he keeps wiping your tears away.

"What do I do now, Juice?"

"Whatever you want," he answers with a strange lightness to his voice. It appears that his response is not something carefully woven but rather a cliché.

You sniffle loudly and although there's nothing attractive about that, it's candid. In Juice's eyes, it only makes you more beautiful. "Right now, I don't know if that list is very short or ridiculously long."

A corner of his mouth rises in a nostalgic smile. He seems to be recalling a memory.

"Remember that one time when you couldn't sleep and found me working at the clubhouse?" Juice asks. You only nod, unsure why he would suddenly remind you of that. "Remember what you told me when I talked about all the things I still needed to get done?"

"It's only three things," you repeat under your breath. Truthfully, you have almost forgotten entirely about that conversation. Juice had been going on about all the complicated steps that had to be done before calling it a day but, in the end, it was only three things. Granted, three time-consuming, challenging things but only three nonetheless. You never thought your comment meant so much to him.

"Exactly," he says as though he had just given you the perfect recipe for anything and everything. "I'm suggesting, you do two things now. First of all, get over the guy that couldn't appreciate you."

"Sounds smart but I'm not sure I know how to do that," you admit with a nervous chuckle. Jax Teller has been a tornado to your soul: came suddenly, wreaked havoc and simply moved on. There is no one to clean the mess, no one to put the pieces back together except those that survived. And you're still at the stage of debating whether you have, actually, survived Jax Teller.

"I guess the first step is not going back to him."

As simple as it sounds, the solution might just be one of the hardest things you've ever done. Nothing good comes easy, as they say. If it's true, you're going to reach for something truly incredible with this resolution.

"And the second thing I should do?" you ask. Deep inside, you're paying he's about to suggest something silly or relaxing.

Suddenly, Juice turns shy. This biker guy with tattoos and a loaded gun is fiddling with his hands and stubbornly avoiding your gaze. Despite his appearance, you think he's adorable.

"Well, uh..." He clears his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of his shakey tone. "If you want, no pressure of course but if you find it in yourself, then maybe you could at least think about grabbing dinner with me?" Whatever your expression looks like, it must make him even more nervous as Juice immediately begins downplaying his question. "Like I said, no pressure. I know it's bad timing all things considered, so it's cool if you don't want to, it's okay-"

"I'd love to," you interrupt him.

For a moment, he silently stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Cool. That's, um... nice."

You see him ever so slightly cringe at his awkward response but you don't think him weird. No, the nervousness makes you all the more convinced you want to go out with him - the anxiety proves that he cares more than he's brave enough to admit.

"Can we add a third thing?" you ask hesitantly.

Juice smiles at you as if today is the best day of his life; the kind of smile that slowly mends broken hearts. "What's on your mind?"

"Say, just hypothetically, how annoying would it be if Ima's car had slashed tires?"

He nods slowly, a shadow of mischief dancing across his handsome features. "Really annoying."

"And if she had to pay for new ones and there'd be a bullshit charge on the receipt like premium air or something?"

The man laughs. How can a sound leave you breathless?

"She would have a really fucking shitty day," he answers.

"Just hypothetically, I'd be satisfied."

"I think I know a guy. Just hypothetically."

Silence falls between you again. It's not tense. No, it's quite the opposite - the silence of two people who can just be. Now that happiness or at least a lack of sadness has entered your face, Juice is staring at you with an expression you can't describe beyond soft. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was not looking at you but at a rare, priceless treasure he has spent his whole life searching for. But you do know better; you know that, perhaps, people can be priceless, too.

A dark thought suddenly clouds your mind: Jax used to look at you the same way. Not always, not for long but he did. And yet, as he has proven, it meant nothing for him.

You push those thoughts away with all the almost-depleted strength you have left. It's no use crying and ruminating about the past when you have your future sitting right next to you. A bright, terribly good-looking future, one might even say.

"Can you just hold me?" you ask him quietly. The heartbreak of Jax's choice and the elation of Juice's confession have left you tired and vulnerable beyond all imagination. Such opposite emotions are ripping you open in conflicting directions. It's like dying and being reborn all at the same time.

"As long as you need, baby."

Juice wastes no time happily fulfilling your request. He brings your legs over and across his own, nudging you even closer towards him. Gently, he pulls your head to rest in the crook of his neck. As strange as it may sound, the man feels like a fortress protecting you from past and future heartbreaks.

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii i absolutely adore your writing it’s literally the best thing on this app!

since my birthday is in a week i just wanted to request a fic where it’s the readers birthday and tom and everyone is ignoring her and “forgot” it’s her birthday but it’s a part of tom’s plan bc he’s throwing a party for her and surprises her when she comes back home but later on in the night tom has another surprise for her if ykwim ;)

if you can’t get to this i understand but thank you for blessing the world w your writing <3

-🧪

BIRTHDAY SEX - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you wake up on your birthday, tom acting like he would any other day, bringing you to the conclusion that he had forgotten about your special day. little did you know, this was all part of his plan.

content: tinyyy bit of angst, smut

a/n: i’m so sorry for not posting for like a week wtf😭 i’ve gotten a lot of requests whilst i’ve been inactive so i’m gonna try work through them asap, but happy birthday anon hope u have an amazing day!! thank u so much for the request, hope i did it justice! 💞

my eyes slowly flutter open, staying half-lidded as the sun’s rays leak in from the small gap in the curtains, not used to the sudden exposure to light. i look downwards, bending my neck slightly, seeing tom’s arm thrown loosely across my stomach, quiet and steady snores escaping his parted lips as he sleeps. his face smushed against the pillow, body flat on his stomach, head nestled just above my shoulder, i know that he is in deep sleep, not planning to wake up anytime soon. the disappointed tinge in my stomach tightens once i realise this, expecting tom to already be awake, preparing me a special breakfast, showering me with gifts and kisses as he usually would on my birthday.

but the room is as it usually looks - no balloons, no presents, no banners, no candies; nothing. but i try to stay hopeful, considering the possibility that he had got up in the night, the array of gifts waiting for me downstairs. so i let him sleep a little longer, veins oozing with excitement as i hang fire, studying his expression for any sign that he is waking up, desperate to see what he had prepared for me, as he usually had a tendency to go all out for these occasions.

he stirs slowly, groaning a little as his arms stretch out, pulling me further into him. his eyes open, a lazy smile gracing his lips when he sees me. i stay quiet, waiting for him to acknowledge my special day, showering me with love and affection and reminding me of the day i have ahead of me. but my face falls at his words, more specifically, the lack of them.

“morning, beautiful.”

my eyebrows furrow in confusion, wondering if he is playing some sort of prank on me - not at all amused if he is. if he does sense my annoyance, he doesn’t acknowledge it, instead he dips his head into my neck so that his lips are brushing against it, and begins to plant slow and soft kisses there, hands occasionally squeezing the flesh of my hips. i don’t stop him, instead i allow the millions of questions in my mind to sit there, the sinking feeling in my stomach rising as i try to prevent the realisation that he has forgotten about my birthday truly feel real. there is no way - he’s never forgotten, even before we started dating, he’d always wish me happy birthday. however the more sloppy his kisses on my neck get, his lips smiling against it, body inching further into mine lazily as it would every other morning, it is clear that my fear has completely come true, and, somehow, he is totally unaware of how special this day is - to me, at least.

“you got any plans today, schatz?” he asks, head still buried into my neck as he speaks in between kisses, eventually moving it upwards so that he is now looking into my eyes, completely clueless.

internally, i want to slap him, scold him for having such a terrible memory and even being able to remotely forget about today. but, i decide to hold back, coming to the silent conclusion that i will go out elsewhere, with people who actually have the decency to remember my birthday unlike my boyfriend. so i shake my head, forcing my lips into a weak smile, my fingers reaching upwards to play with a loose dread falling from his face.

his eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side as he senses something is wrong. my heart swells in excitement as i watch him appear to think something over, waiting for him to finally remember what day it is. but, i am quickly proven wrong as he is still just as clueless as he was five minutes ago.

“you okay? you seem upset.” he says, so absentmindedly i wonder if he is actually being serious. it seems that he is completely sincere, his hand moving to stroke my cheek as he awaits an answer, failing to understand that his obliviousness is the reason for my sadness.

“yeah i’m fine, just a little tired.” i reassure him, trying to make my smile seem a little more real, and, somehow he buys it, nodding his head and moving downwards to plant a tender kiss on my lips.

“okay, well the guys want me at the studio to rehearse.” he begins, pecking my lips a few more times, not noticing the way my face falls, in disbelief of this entire situation, having expected to be celebrating with him the whole day. “so i don’t know when i’ll be back. but we can watch a movie and order takeout or something tonight, mhm?”

“sounds great.” i say, sarcasm laced in my tone as i now feel anger more than anything. i reach my hands to his chest, placing them flat against it, pushing him off of my body as i sit up, turning around to get out of bed.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he quickly says, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, kissing my shoulder as he pulls me further into him, my back flush against his chest.

“nothing tom. have fun with the band, text me when you’re finished, yeah?” i turn my head, pressing my lips to his in an attempt to shut him up, wanting to be as far away from him as possible right now, hoping that he is planning on leaving soon.

“if you’re sure.” he shrugs, pecking my lips once again before climbing out of bed, as i do the same. “i’m running late schatz, i’m gonna get dressed then i have to go.”

i nod my head as he takes a few steps towards me, wrapping his arms around my frame and embracing me in a tight hug, my head resting in his shoulder.

“i love you.” he whispers, his head resting on top of mine.

“love you too.” i quickly say, breaking apart from the hug. he kisses my forehead quickly, before walking over to the closet, picking out some baggy jeans and an oversized t-shirt as he would every day. he hurriedly slips them on, tying his dreads in a ponytail and placing a matching cap on his head. he smooths out his t-shirt, walking over to me once more.

“i love you beautiful, see you tonight.” he says, swiftly kissing my lips before rushing out of our bedroom, the front door closing a few seconds later.

i sit down on the edge of the bed, my eyes clouding with tears, wondering what i could have done to make my own boyfriend forget about my birthday, feeling completely miserable. to make things even worse, i hadn’t received any messages from my friends, family - anybody.

but i tried to stay happy, remembering that even if tom had forgotten, my friends and i were still going out for my birthday meal tonight as we did every year.

༻❦༺

6:04pm, the time on my screen reads, reminding me that i should start getting ready, my birthday dinner booked for 7:30. tom hadn’t texted me all day, neither had anybody, yet i still had the hope that my friends were all getting ready too - feeling sick at the thought that it wasn’t just tom that had forgotten. but i didn’t want to think about him, my pent up anger and frustration going to be released when he came home from the studio, though i silently wished that he wouldn’t, not even wanting to see him.

i scan my closet, my fingers landing on a small black dress that i hadn’t worn yet, pulling it from the hanger and studying it, contemplating before nodding my head, taking my comfy clothes off and getting changed into it. i walk to the mirror, content with my appearance for once, the dress perfectly highlighting my curves, the material reaching mid-way down my thighs. my hair already straight as i had fixed it earlier, i move onto my makeup, applying basically everything as i take care in making sure i look perfect for tonight, not wanting anything else to go wrong.

finishing my lipstick, i move away from the mirror, adjusting my hair and running my fingers through it, removing any small knots. i check the time once again - 7:02pm. my eyes widen, realising that i have to leave, yet as i am rushing to get my heels on, my phone buzzes. i stop, placing my second heel on my foot before looking at the words on my screen.

so sorry girl, a family emergency has come up and the rest of the girls can’t make it. we will make it up to u i promise!! - 7:04pm

my eyes stare at the screen in disbelief, reading the words over and over again, wondering if i am imagining them as it seems impossible that so much has gone wrong in one day. i slump onto my bed, frustratedly kicking my heels off, trying to stop the tears forming in my eyes from falling - even if i’m not going out, my makeup still looks perfect, some pathetic tears aren’t going to ruin it. but before i can become too upset, my phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up as i roll my eyes, seeing that tom has finally texted me.

schatz, come to bill’s house. be quick if you can, it’s pretty important. i love you. - 7:08pm

my eyes widen, quickly picking up on the urgency of his text, my mind assuming that the worst has happened. i quickly rush to put my heels back on, not caring that i am dressed to go to a party, more focused on getting to tom as fast as i can, feeling so selfish for being mad that he hadn’t texted me all day, now worried sick as i scramble for my car keys, quickly rushing out of the front door.

༻❦༺

i pull up outside of bill’s house, the lights off, the entire place eerily quiet. having known him all my life, i no longer knock on his door, instead i walk straight in, my eyes met with an empty hallway.

“tom? bill?” i got your message, is everything okay?” i call out, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor as i walk into the kitchen, which is just as empty as the room before, my eyes furrowing in confusion, whatever tom needed me for clearly not as urgent as he had made out.

i turn around, about to leave the kitchen, but just as i am about to take my first step, my eyes are covered by two large hands, my body freezing in shock.

“guess who?” a familiar voice says, my body turning to be met with his cocky smile, his hands moving to rest on my hips as i stare at him in disbelief.

“tom? what the fuck, are you okay? is bill okay? i’ve been worried sick, what’s going-”

my rambling is cut off by tom pressing his lips to mine, smiling against them as he pulls away after a few seconds, my concern somehow amusing to him.

“shhh, come with me.” he mutters against my lips, taking my hand and pulling me out of the kitchen.

“what? where are we going? tom you’re driving me crazy what is going on?” i ask as he pulls me through the hallway, leading me outwards towards the garden.

“baby calm down. everything is fine.” he begins, stopping and turning to face me, taking my hands in his. “you look beautiful by the way.”

“thanks tom but that’s not-”

“schatz, just trust me okay? come on.” he interrupts, squeezing my hand as we continue to walk towards the garden. the double doors leading out to it are closed, heavy curtains draped over the glass, stopping me from seeing what is outside. tom moves the curtain a little, opening the door and stepping outside, my mouth falling open in shock.

my eyes are met with a crowd of all of my friends, a few people unfamiliar, some people that i recognise to be tom’s friends, as well as an array of balloons, food, alcohol, banners, the pool lit up as confetti decorates the outside of it.

“happy birthday!” a chorus of voice says, my hands flying to my mouth in shock, a wide smile on my face as i turn to tom, his eyes already on mine. i quickly pull him into a hug, so tight that his body stumbles backwards a little, but his arms soon wrap around my lower back, a proud grin etched upon his face.

“happy birthday meine liebe.” he says, raising his voice a little as the music that has just been turned on drowns out any other noise.

“how did you- i thought you forgot?” i question, pulling away from the hug, staying within his embrace as his arms remain on my hips. he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“how could i forget about my girl’s birthday? i’ve been planning this for so long. it’s been so hard to keep it a secret, and i hated making you upset this morning, i almost cracked when you got mad at me, but, seeing your reaction now makes it all worth it.” he says, eyes staring into mine.

i stand there speechless, unable to find the right words, wondering how he managed to pull this whole thing off. i pull his face towards mine, connecting our lips in a soft kiss, tom deepening it a little as he presses his lips harder onto mine. i pull away for breath, resting my forehead against his.

“it’s perfect, i don’t even know what to say. i love you.” i state, unable to hide my excitement.

“i love you too baby. now come on, let’s have fun.” he smiles, taking my hand and guiding me over to some of our friends.

༻❦༺

“there’s one more surprise for you.” tom whispers in my ear, giving my ass a rough squeeze as he smirks knowingly, the lustful tint within his eyes saying exactly what kind of surprise he is hinting towards.

we had been at the party for a few hours, certainly tipsy as everyone else was, yet it didn’t show any sign of ending soon, the music seeming to get louder, amount of alcohol coming from inside only increasing.

“oh yeah? and what’s that?” i ask, looking upwards at him, my hand running down his chest.

he chuckles slightly, bending down so his lips are level with my ear, his breathing tickling the area. “you’ll have to wait until we get home.” he teases, kissing the skin below my ear before moving back, taking a drink from his cup as his other arm remains around my shoulder.

“or we could just leave now.” i challenge, willing to play whatever game he thinks he has started, knowing that he will cave in.

“hmm.” he begins, titling his head, trying to make it look like he is debating on letting me win, though i can tell his mind was made the second i said the words. “you are the birthday girl, you’re in charge beautiful.”

he shrugs his shoulders, tongue poking outwards to play with his lip ring.

“then we’re leaving.” i state, taking his hand and saying my brief goodbyes to everybody, not being able to get out of the house fast enough.

we reach my car as i throw my keys over to tom, letting him drive as he is the more sober one out of the two of us, having only had one drink. the drive home is torturous, tom squeezing my thigh and whispering just the right things in my ear, knowing the effect that his words have on me, my legs squeezing together as the heat between them becomes unbearable.

he pulls up in the driveway, stepping out of the car and taking my hand, unlocking the front door. he guides me upstairs and into the bedroom, walking towards his closet and returning with a square black box. he places it in front of me as i sit on the bed, his body towering over me.

“happy birthday baby.” is all he says, watching me as i take the lid off of the box, revealing the most beautiful black lingerie set i had ever laid my eyes on. i take it out of the box, holding it in front of me as i stare at it in awe.

“i love it! thank you thank you thank you!” i squeal, standing on my knees on the edge of the bed and kissing his lips quickly.

“you gonna put it on for me? i’ve been waiting to see you in it since i bought it, been driving me crazy.” he whispers against my lips, teeth tugging my bottom lip gently as he slowly releases it, smirking slightly against me. “don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

i nod my head, pecking his lips once more before climbing off of the bed, heading into the bathroom and closing the door. i slip my dress off, netting it pool at my feet, before pulling the panties upwards and onto my body. the bra follows as i clip it on, adjusting the straps. i look at myself in the mirror, in shock of how well tom knows me. it fits perfectly, complimenting my figure in ways i didn’t know were possible.

i open the door, tom quickly turning to face me. his eyes widen, a grin taking over his expression as his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. he walks towards he, hands finding my hips as his fingers dip in and out of the lacy material of my panties, eyes burning into my figure. he bends down, pushing his lips against mine and quickly sliding his tongue in, groaning quietly against me.

his hands move under my thighs, squeezing the flesh as he uses them to lift me up, wrapping my legs against his torso. he walks us over to the bed, falling onto it as i collapse on top of him, never breaking the kiss. his fingers grace my figure, starting at my back, slowly moving to my ass as he kneads it roughly, using it to grind my body against him, his dick already hard through his jeans. i gasp into his mouth at the feeling, my hands cupping his face as i pull his lips harder against my own.

“better than i imagined.” he mutters against my lips, biting them softly. “you’re so beautiful, you know that?”

i moan lightly in response, pulling backwards to reach for his t-shirt, not liking that he is still fully dressed. he smirks at my desperation, helping me to pull his t-shirt off. i sit up, straddling him as he holds my waist, my fingers fiddling with the button of his jeans, scrambling to take them off. he sees me struggling, moving upwards a little, undoing the zipper and pulling them from his legs, my hips lifting upwards momentarily so that he can take them completely off.

he is now in his boxers, my hands tracing his abs as he reconnects our lips, his fingers reaching for the clasp of my bra, undoing it in one swift motion. i pull at his boxers, getting them off as i want nothing more than him to be inside of me.

“how do you want it baby?” he mutters against me, slipping my panties off as he speaks. “whatever you want beautiful, just let me make you feel good.”

his chest moves up and down, lips parted as his eyes stare into mine, awaiting my response. instead of voicing my needs verbally, i climb off of him, laying flat against the bed as i pull him on top of me, taking his dick and putting it at my entrance, letting him move fully inside of me.

my mouth falls open as he bottoms out, small whines escaping from my lips. my hands fly to his back, nails digging into the skin as they rake downwards, tom wincing as the slight pain only fuels his desire. he pulls almost completely out, before slamming into me, a loud moan leaving my lips at the exciting mix of pain and pleasure, able to tune out the slight discomfort and focus on the way he fills me up.

he groans against my lips, kissing them repeatedly as he moves in and out of me, building a steady pace. “fuck you feel so good.” he sighs, grabbing my legs and throwing them over his shoulders, the new angle causing me to practically scream in satisfaction, his tip drilling against my g-spot repeatedly.

“please don’t stop, right there, mhm!” i manage to say, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as his dick continues to stretch me out, hitting places that no one but him ever could.

my walls clench around him, a small groan coming from the base of his throat at my movement. “do that again baby- fuck, do it again.” he basically begs, his head falling backwards once i repeat my motions.

i attempt to kiss him, my movements against his lips sloppy and inconsistent, loud moans pouring from my mouth into his as he groans lowly, his pace speeding up, breathing becoming fast and heavy. his chest is flush against mine, bodies sticking together, the sound of our skin slapping together sounding throughout the room, a chorus of inaudible sounds leaving our lips as we chase our release.

“i’m close, keep going, please.” i beg, my voice coming out as a desperate whine. he nods his head in response, gripping my thighs harder, his muscles flexing with each movement as his thrusts become faster and stronger. his dick starts to twitch, signalling to me that he is close too.

“where do you want it baby?” he breathes out, his eyes squeezed shut, movements now becoming irregular.

“inside.” i moan out, not caring about the consequences right now, drunk on the feeling of his dick moving in and out of me.

he lets out a small ‘mhm’, his response soon cut off by a loud groan as he feel him shoot his hot cum into me, the liquid coating my walls, the sudden pressure triggering my own climax. the knot in my stomach unravels, a high pitched moan leaving my lips as i clutch onto him harder than i ever have before, watching the way his face twists in pleasure, head rolling backwards as he rocks his hips at a slow pace, riding out our highs.

he collapses on top of me, hands running up and down my waist as he places a small kiss on my collarbone before lazily muttering against my skin, his voice low and hoarse.

“happy fucking birthday.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[whitexwolfxx310]

Hi. Request. A bucky or sebastian x fem reader. Soft wedding smut. Fluff. NO daddy or mommy kinks, for the love of God. NO! Thank you

Yes!!! I have been so excited to write something like this! I couldn't help but dive right into it! I hope you enjoy ♥️

||You're My Home||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Your wedding night!

Warnings: Spicy content! 18+ only! Oral sex F receiving, unprotected penetration, praise kink, FLUFFFFFFF!

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This isn't a part of the BBWWS, but let me know what you think!

Spending the last year planning the intricate details of a wedding had you completely drained. Centerpieces, invitations, flowers… it sounds fun in theory, but was utterly exhausting.

Bucky did everything he could to be by your side every step of the way. Even the late nights when he came home from a mission to find you crying in the middle of the floor- that was littered with glue, glitter, ribbons, and card stock that was going to somehow come together to make the seating chart you had imagined in your head. He had this magic about him that would take the stress away, reminding you that the very core of all of this was your love for one another. He’d offer to help, and seeing him in all black leather covered with glitter was a sight to behold. You teased your fiancé, saying he should pitch that idea as a new uniform.

You held onto those little moments to help push you through the craziness of wedding planning. After all, the endgame was becoming Mrs. Barnes. And even though the big day got closer and closer, you never got over the sight of Bucky’s mothers ring on your finger.

But it all came together on a beautiful fall evening as you each stood at the end of a plush grass isle. That had been his one and only request- to be married outdoors in a wide open space. Bucky didn’t look when you first appeared, he was afraid. It wasn’t until the music played and Steve gave him a reassuring grip on his shoulder, did he brave a look.

He didn’t smile at first. His eyes took in every small detail; The bold white sheath dress that hugged your curves, the plunging sweetheart neckline that accented your breasts, the floral patterned lace that disappeared the further it fluttered down the dress. No, he didn’t smile. Not yet. Instead his teeth clenched and his lips slightly twitched as you started to walk towards him. Bucky’s ocean blue eyes now had a watery sheen to them, conveying just one simple word: ‘mine’.

When you were only just a few feet away from the sunflower and marigold decorated alter, he stepped forward to meet you. To hold your hand in his as you both take your last steps as each others fiancé. Standing face to face in front of a large group of people that suddenly seemed to disappear, you could only focus on the man in front of you. His pearly white teeth that gleamed as he now smiled, his eyes as bright as you’ve ever seen them, his infamous nose scrunch in excitement that made you fall in love with him in the first place, and that tanned, God-like skin that practically glowed under his all black suit. Every feature was enhanced from the too perfect watercolor sun as it started to set during your vows.

The minister hadn’t even finished the conclusion of the ceremony by saying ‘you may now kiss the bride’ before Bucky gently cupped both sides of your face and gave you the sweetest, heartfelt kiss. The beaming smiles on both of your faces almost made it impossible to press your lips together. Cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd, causing him to take you into his arms, dipping you down low as he maintained the kiss for show.

The evening was full of clinking utensils against glasses, music that had everyone dancing (even Bucky), and the ever so slightly guilty conscience you had from wasting such an amazing tasting cake by smushing it into his face. It went by so fast that it was practically a blur, and over far too soon.

Everyone sent you off in the picture perfect way; people lined up on both sides of the main entrance and held sparklers that just felt as though they were illuminating the newly married glow coming off of you both.

Driving back to the rented cabin for your wedding night was painfully slow. Bucky’s hand rested on your thigh as he drove, giving the occasional squeeze when his thumb wasn’t grazing against the soft white fabric.

Pulling into the drive, you can feel that the night has cooled. He quickly turns off the car and slightly fumbles as he runs around to open the car door for you. Holding out his hand, you take it into yours and allow him to help you out. After all, wedding dresses aren’t well known for their ability to move with you. Bucky picks you up, now holding you in traditional bridal style to bring you through the threshold. He kicks the door lightly, opening it and walking through, making you giggle as you held onto him.

“Thank you, husband.” You enunciate. He smirks, gently placing you back into your feet.

“You’re welcome, wife.” He reiterates the title also. You both laugh.

His eyes find yours, portraying the same look of adoration he has given you through the entire day, making you feel like the happiest and luckiest woman in the world. Your smile mirrored his own- but one side of your lip tugged into a smirk as you slowly started stepping backwards towards the bedroom. The faint clicking of your heels against the floor being your silent invitation.

Those sky blue eyes set ablaze, and without hesitation, he pulled at his black tie, shimmying the knot down until it was undone and fell to the floor. Bucky’s midnight black tuxedo jacket followed suit, starting to leave a trail of his clothes as he followed you into the bedroom.

He places his hands on each side of your waist and encourages you to turn around. Now with your back to him, he steps in close- the front of his body now pressing into yours. As you expose your neck, Bucky's lips kiss your collarbone, almost making you visibly shiver under his touch. He inhales deeply, as if somehow your scent has changed now that you're officially his. His lips leave small, butterfly soft kisses that trace up to your ear. Instinctively, warm fingertips trace along the lace seam on your lower back.

"You looked... so beautiful today," he breathed, as his fingers clasped the tiny zipper. "But, I would be lying if I said that I haven't been thinking about getting you out of this dress, all day." Your hips impulsively press back against his at the words. The fabric became less taut the more he pulled the zipper down.

That familiar combination of his warm and cool touch started to line your curves. Turning in Bucky's arms to face him, the dress pooled around your feet on the floor. After helping you out of the mesh layers, Bucky drops to his knees in front of you as he admires your new revealed outfit- a strapless, shortened, white flower patterned corset with a matching lace thong and garter belt to hold up thigh high stockings. Placing a firm kiss on your stomach, his head tilts up so he can look at you through hooded eyes- his lower lip still tugged down against your belly slightly.

"God, you're gorgeous. Just...perfect. And mine." The last word changed his tone from admiration to instant primal. He was back on his feet, hands already starting to roam your body. In return, you grip the collar of his dress shirt, pulling his face down closer to yours. Even in heels, you're significantly shorter than him.

"I love you, Bucky. You're everything I've ever wanted, needed, and more." You say, in a small voice- your lips so close to his that they just barely touched with each word you spoke. Not even waiting for a response, you purse your lips to his as you start to fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt.

His warm tongue skims against yours- and now you're even more impatient that his naked body isn't already on top of yours. Taking a fist full of the shirt from both sides, you pull as hard as you could- buttons flying, leaving his chest bare. Bucky's lips didn't leave yours as you pushed the shirt down his arms, letting it drop to the floor.

Stepping forward, he supports your body- laying you down on the bed. His hips press firmly between your legs, and even through his dress pants you could feel that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him; Causing the recognizable throbbing in your lower core to make it's first appearance. His palm presses flat against your upper chest, feeling your heart as it starts to beat faster, for him.

Using his palm as guidance, his lips now trail behind his hand as it coasts lower on your body. Your sternum, beneath your ribs, your belly button, and just above your underwear. While his lips left creamy, soft kisses- the small amount of stubble on his chin tickles, causes you to wriggle slightly under his touch. You exhale all of the air out of your lungs as he plants one faint kiss on top of the thin fabric between your legs. The warmth from his breath has your body completely in his control; your back arching off the bed, aching for more of his touch.

Moving the fabric to the side, he gives one more exposed, tongue filled kiss- causing your breath to hitch. You force yourself to look down, taking the upmost gratification of seeing this man's, your man's, face between your thighs. Bucky ran his warm pointer finger through your folds, grinning with approval of how wet you already are. His ribbed tongue swirls as he licks and sucks smoothly- your hips grind softly, working with his motions.

At first your moans are sigh like and gradually turn into small whimpers. It's a small game Bucky likes to play- teasing and edging almost to the point it will drive you insane. But the orgasms that snowball through you over and over again make it so worth it. He glides over that one sweet spot that makes your entire body tense.

"Don't stop," You sigh, struggling to maintain breathing as your nails start grabbing into his full head of hair. He gives a small 'Mmm' in response, the hum from his throat practically echoing in your rib cage.

Keeping the gradual brushing of his tongue, your entire body starts to come off of the bed. Your toes point downward as you fail in remembering how to breathe- Bucky's arms tense around your thighs as you start to wriggle, holding you in place as you ride through the wave of pent up tension.

A combination of his name delicately wrapped in moans escape your mouth. Even after what seems like relentless energy waves rolling through your body, his tongue doesn't stop- but instead becomes softer and silky, twirling so gently around your extremely sensitive and swollen clit. Only once does your body shudder at each pass of his tongue does he stop.

The coolness of the air replaces where his mouth was as he kneels on the bed. Bucky pulls on his belt buckle, the metal rattling as it comes undone and gets thrown onto the floor. At some point, your thong had been ripped off. Being the skilled lover that he is, his pants are already being tugged off as he moves to hover over you. His sweet- yet salty, lips are on yours; his tongue massaging your own as you both taste yourself through the kiss.

Reaching down between your legs, you grasp and start to stroke him slowly. He breathes into the kiss at your touch and as you adjust your body underneath him. You guide the tip of him to your entrance, rubbing it maliciously slow up and down your folds to lubricate him, with you. The most delicious sound reverberates in his throat as his hips gently press forward, his silent plead. Not being able to resist much longer yourself, you start to guide him inside of you.

A unanimous moan is breathed out between the two of you as he presses in. In an attempt to make himself slick, Bucky pushes in, and then pulls out- repeating this movement until the majority of his length is inside of you. You're so tight that he can't fit in all the way just yet.

His hips rock gingerly against your own, starting off gradually as your internal walls expand to adjust around his intimidating size. The abdominal throbbing didn't stay dormant for long once Bucky found his rhythm. He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead into your own. His breathing becomes heavier as your whimpers morph into moans- moans transform into broken 'oh's'.

This being your second orgasm makes it more intense; and Bucky knows well enough to keep his pace. Changing anything in the moment could cause him to start over again. Not that he would mind.

"Just like that," he breathes, and gently strokes your cheek. And you start to crumble all over again at the smoothness of his words. Your nails dig into his slick and muscled back for stability- your stomach re-living that rollercoaster drop feeling. The sounds coming from you are becoming shaky and high pitched. Bucky presses his lips back into yours, swallowing your sharp whines of pleasure.

He doesn't allow you time to come back down from this high; instead he repositions you both. Bucky is now slightly leaned back on his knees with you straddled on top of him, nice and close.

"One more?" He asks with a smug smile, already taking on the challenge regardless.

Your throat is so dry, your vision still semi blurred- and yet, how can I say no?

His hands grip onto your hips- your bodies forming a V. No movement involved, you can feel the incline of him in this position- with every tiny motion, his tip is going to caress against your G-spot in this alignment.

The first, slow grind makes Bucky hiss. He's deeper, you feel tighter. This isn't going to take long at all... for either of you.

Allowing his hands to guide your hips, you move along to his pattern. The combination of both internal and external stimulation already has you unable to think straight. Your body shudders a little more fiercely this time- Bucky's fingers dig into your skin more as he grunts through his breath. You can feel the pulsing, warm sensation inside as he comes- making him feel even more slick. His body convulses slightly until all that is left is excessive breathing and sticky, sweaty skin between you both.

Bucky's hands cup your face- the cold from his metal hand being more than welcome. "God, I love you." He says, then presses his lips against yours. And in this moment, you realize that every night for the rest of your lives could be like this. This intense, this passionate- forever.

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