#he’s just as likely to fully submit to you as he is to be like— ‘mmm no. i’m just gonna do this myself. bye.’ — or to flip into a dom role

[softxsuki]

Hello! If requests are still open I would like to submit one for the valentines day event? I would like a confession letter from baji (he's liked me for a LONG while but bc I have low self esteem/been in a bunch of failed friendships and relationship (some of wbuch he had a part if bc he didnt wanna see me with another man), I only saw him as a friend and didn't really allow myself to have feeling for him (like im a really optimistic/extroverted person but I'm also rlly scared of getting close to people as my most recent friendship breakup resorted in me getting fucking insomnia that took weeks to recover from). Tone: hurt/angst to comfort/fluff where after I try to go out on a date (and fail), he finds me crying onnthr curb, ion wanna see his fsce (bc we got into an argument) and then he tries tos ee what's wrong but I'm hiding my feelings, we get into an argument and I run off (it's super dramatic too). Other info: we've been tight since middle school (i saw him as a big bro/cool guy figure. Looked up to him) ans latches onto him even as I gained and lost friends gjnffjdnmd

Sorry if its too confusing or complex dndndn

Have a lovely day!

Confession Letter from Baji

This event is now CLOSED, but you can view the masterlist for the other letters here.

| Pairing: Baji x Gn!Reader| Genre: Comfort, Fluff | Post-Type: Letter | Word Count: 500 |

Warnings: mild language, jealousy, crying

Note: You painted a whole scene for me, so thank you. Hope you like !

You were at home sulking over the events of the day; a failed date once again due to your inability to fully trust a guy again, to Baji finding you crying on the curb, the argument that ensued after, and you running away from your own feelings, taking yourself back home.

You felt so pathetic, why couldn’t things work out for you? Why did you have to have these feelings for your friend despite how much you tried to push them away? There was no denying them anymore.

A knock at your door, forces you off your feet, opening the door to find no one there, but instead, a letter on the ground with your name on it.

Strange…

You wipe away your tears and bring the letter in with you, opening it;

Y/N,

Before you crumple this up and throw it away, please wait…I’m sorry okay? I was just…upset. I realize I’ve been holding my feelings back for so long that my instinct is to scold you for going out on dates…it’s probably jealousy honestly.

We’ve been close since middle school and I’ve seen all the crap you’ve been through with fake friends and failed relationships…which I’ve probably scared a few potential love interests of yours away myself…but I can’t help it. I like you. What man stands around and lets other guys talk to the person they like? Despite how lame I’ve been to keep it to myself instead of just telling you…

But after tonight, I can’t hold it back anymore. I like you, Y/N. I have for a while and I hate to see you hurting…I know I could treat you well. Our friendship is proof of that, but I want to be more than just your friend. I want to hold you when you’re hurting and kiss your tears away. I want to reassure you and build you up after all the times you’ve been knocked down by losers who don’t know how to treat their lovers…

I’m tired of running from my feelings, I just hope I haven’t pushed you away by telling you this. 

Come find me, please.

Love, 

Keisuke.

You can’t help but smile at the letter, the guy could hardly spell (let’s pretend like there were many spelling and grammar mistakes in the letter…the editor in me couldn’t actually do it BFHKEAF), let alone put words together on paper, but he tried for you, and it was beautiful. 

Maybe these feelings you had for him weren’t so bad after all. Maybe this could be your first good experience with a relationship. Baji always treated you well, despite the times he’d get moody after you’d mention dates you had gone on, but now you knew why–he liked you back.

You laugh to yourself, wiping the remainder of your dried tears. Time to find happiness with your best friend. The thought filled you with hope, making you excited for the idea of dating him. 

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

Posted: 2/14/2025

[corpsentry]

eulogy

[softmangoes]

control - eden the hunter x defiant!pc

18+ only | request fill for 🕸 anon

summary: you've been spending a lot of time at the new university. when you get back home to the cabin, you surprise eden with a gift.

includes: sub!eden, sex pollen, pegging, mentions of past sexual abuse, blood, older pc

"that shortcut isn't safe at this time of the year," the hunter said as he rubbed the healing salve onto your fingertips. you winced, the cut that adorned your hand burning as the ointment seeped into it. the ledge you would usually scale to get to the cabin had been slick with tufts of moss, causing you to lose your grip and slip. as you fell, you grabbed onto a stray vine to steady yourself, pain flaring from your palm as its thorns sliced into your skin.

"i figured," you said. a pair of stormy eyes flicked to you, unamused.

"you were careless." eden took a length of gauze and wrapped it around your hand. although he was gentle, the pressure around the cut on your palm still made you hiss. "what would have happened if something out there had smelled the blood on you?"

your eyes fell onto the rifle resting atop the dining table. the hunter had been cleaning it when you stumbled in, all bloody and sweaty and exhausted.

"then you would have taken care of it."

eden scoffed, securing the dressing with a practiced ease. "i've spoiled you, haven't i?"

"have you?" although you were more than capable of protecting yourself, the hunter was no stranger to threatening those who would harm you while you traversed through the forest. 

when you looked at him, his eyes were chips of flint. “say that again.” 

you inhaled, trying to calm yourself.

the hearth made his skin glow warmly, the firelight dancing on his features. his hair had grown longer, his beard more unruly. this time, due to the storms, you had been gone for more than a week. a flash flood could have swept you away as you crossed the river, lightning could have sliced through a tree as you passed below its boughs. a frightened animal could have confronted you as it made its escape. how could he not worry? how could he not want to make sure that you were okay?

but you were no fragile thing. years of hard labor had woven corded muscle into your limbs and months of training had made you more than lethal. you could take care of yourself. he had made sure of it.

"i'm alright," you said, trying your best to assure him. you came back and you were alive. that was more than good enough. "okay?"

after a moment, the hunter's eyes softened. "i missed you," he breathed, taking your other wrist in his hand. he pressed his lips to the tip of each bandaged finger, kissing each one gently. despite the gauze, his mouth was warm, the puff of his breath tickling the underside of your wrist.

once he released you, you brought your uninjured hand to cup his face. stubble scratched at your palm as you traced the old scars that ran across his jaw. one of them, still silvery in the firelight, you had carved into his face years ago. you could still remember the taste of copper in your mouth when he kissed you, the blood hot as it wet your lips. 

he made a sound at your touch, one quiet and full of need, and you found yourself filled with desire. here he was, your hunter, kneeling before you as you sat on the couch. eden had never been one to go into detail about how much he wanted you, but you could tell from his expression that the past week had been difficult for him. his eyes betrayed his usual stoicism: this time, he had been afraid you weren’t going to come back. 

how cute. hunger coiled in you tight, and you slipped your thumb between his parted lips.

a gasp. then warmth. a tongue swiped across the pad of your finger, hot and wet. his eyes flicked open, those twin storms brewing with confusion and desire, before he pulled away abruptly, leaving a string of saliva connecting you to him.

"what," eden started, not knowing how to process what had just happened. a stripe of red flared across his cheeks.

but you only smiled as you licked the pad of your thumb, the hunger coiling tighter and tighter. you were a snake wrapping around its prey, the coolness of your scales sliding along the warmth of its skin. your hunter was always so beautiful, but there was something about that moment of softness, that vulnerability, that made you want to see more of it.

"you really did miss me," you said, your eyes never leaving his as your lips closed over your finger to taste him. "didn't you?"

__

later that night, eden stood in front of the bathroom sink, sweat slicking his skin. outside, the wind howled as rain streamed down the window. he couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking about your finger in his mouth and the look in your eyes as you watched him lick at it.

it had been a brief moment, nothing more than a few fleeting seconds, but he could still remember the taste of you.

eden inhaled. at that moment, you were fast asleep in bed, curled up in a nest of blankets to keep you from straining your hand.

at first, he had wanted a companion: someone to warm his bed, cook his meals, do as they were told. what he didn’t expect was you questioning his rules, pushing against his boundaries. one time, you took a knife to his jaw, raking the blade across his skin like a trail of fire. he slapped the knife from your grip and pinned you to the wall, growling that he wasn’t someone who could be threatened like that.

a few years ago, he would have taken you right then and there, injury be damned. 

now that you were taking classes, getting back to the cabin on time was more difficult for you. there were courses for you to take, projects to finish, and papers to write. when you had applied for the university, he had been bitter about your decision for days. what did you need from the town that you couldn’t get here? why did you want more reasons to be away? 

in retaliation, eden would wake you on the mornings he knew you’d have class by pulling your underwear to the side and slipping inside you. the hunter’s size was formidable, so it never took you very long to gasp and open your eyes to the clock you kept by your bedside. 

“h-hey,” you started, your thighs trembling despite your annoyance. before you could continue, he’d slide in deeper, making you claw at the sheets with a soft whine. 

“you’ll be late by the time we’re finished,” he murmured, licking a line up your neck as you clenched down on his cock. after all these years, the hunter knew many ways to keep you within his grasp. “and you have everything you need here.” 

the clock ticked, its hands inching closer and closer to the start of your class with each moment that passed. 

“stay.” he circled your clit with his fingers, bringing you closer to the edge with every thrust. “do you really have to leave?” 

before he found you, there was only the quiet of the cabin to keep him company. the rustle of the leaves scratching against the windows and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth could not compare to the softness of your skin or the sound of your laugh filling the air. despite the fact that you were the one who had spent time in chains, eden could not help but feel confined by his loneliness whenever you were away. 

but you didn’t have to leave this time. he could make you feel good. he could remind you that you were meant to be here. he could make you stay. 

“eden.” with a grunt, you snapped your hips into his, taking all of him in. the sudden motion made him gasp as he spilled into you, filling you with his warmth as you came with him. 

a few moments passed before you sat up and started slipping on your clothes. by the set of your shoulders, he could tell that you were upset at him for delaying you once again. the walk through the forest would take a considerable amount of time and you still had to catch a bus to the university. 

when he called your name, you didn’t answer. minutes later, your steps faded. a chill rushed into the cabin and the front door closed, leaving him with only the silence for company.

all of that had happened a little more than a week ago. now, his knuckles were pale as he gripped the rim of the bathroom sink. 

after so long, you were finally back. if you had stayed away a day longer, he would have walked to the university to wander the campus in search of you. despite the years you had spent with each other, a part of him was sure that someday you would leave the forest and never come back.

eden shook his head. he thought of your thumb against his tongue, the wet heat of it probing his teeth. it felt assuring that even after everything, you still wanted him. 

the hunter slipped two of his fingers into his mouth, sliding them along the warmth of his inner lip. his other hand found his cock, aching against his trousers. eden panted, desire curling in his core as he tried his best not to moan aloud.

still, a low groan escaped his lips. he was close. so fucking close. and as he came, he thought of the hunger in your eyes and how in that moment, he had wanted to feed it.

__

a box of ammunition. rope. a new whetstone. gauze.

the next morning, eden set each item down onto the dining table methodically, silently appraising each item as he slipped it out of your duffel bag.

after a few hours of rest and the cuts and scrapes from your journey back aside, you felt much better than you did the previous evening. you sipped some lemon balm tea, watching your hunter sort through the items. 

the university had taken a lot from the time you would usually spend together, but you still tried your best to make sure that eden was taken care of. over the years, the town had gotten busier after the campus opened, welcoming new students from the surrounding areas who would occasionally strap on a backpack to trek through the forest. often, they’d run the supply store out of the usual items you’d purchase. this wasn’t an ideal situation for someone as secluded as eden, so you did what you could to make sure he had what he needed. 

a pack of mason jar lids. gun oil. vegetable seeds. 

"looks like the store was stocked well this week," he remarked, setting down the packs of seeds with a quiet rattle. you imagined the sprouts they’d become, bright green tendrils pushing forth from the earth. “we’ll plant these once the frost ends.”  

although attending college was rather expensive, your botany courses had enhanced your time spent at the cabin. after a few months, you had made a natural irrigation system for the vegetable plots, created a compost pile, and even had a small seed archive categorized by their best growing season. around the cabin itself were sketchbooks filled with illustrations of the different herbs, mushrooms, and berries that could be found within the forest. 

years ago, you couldn't imagine that you would stop catching fights in the streets. now, your life was devoted to the changing of the seasons, to bountiful harvests, and handfuls of seeds.

antibiotics. cheesecloth. sewing needles. a—

"this is from that temple boy's shop." eden held up a large velvet bag, which was plain save for a pink heart embroidered onto the deep purple cloth.

whenever you needed cash, you would offer to help sydney run his mother’s adult store. it was an easy enough job and both sydney and sirris treated you well. occasionally, they’d send you off with something new to try to express their gratitude for your assistance. 

“you’ve been eyeing this one for a while,” sirris said, pulling the box from the shelf. you blushed, embarrassed that you had made your interest so obvious. its length was enticing, the construction of the curves alluring. “take it home. i’m sure the customers would appreciate a review.”

when eden pulled the item out of the bag, his eyes snapped to yours.

"what," he said flatly, examining the package's text that claimed the dildo was realistic, sure to please, a fan favorite. "am i not enough for you?"

you laughed. eden had enjoyed the array of lacy outfits from the shop, binding you in silk rope, the samples of lube that were stored in his nightstand. what was one more new thing?  

"relax," you said, taking the bag and upending it. a leather harness, sleek with silver rivets, thudded onto the table. "it's for you."

in all honesty, you couldn’t be more excited. eden was an insatiable lover, fierce and enthusiastic. while the sex was exciting, there was a part of you that wanted to unravel him, to savor him. you would do it slowly, carefully, so that once he was properly plied with your gentleness, you would sink your teeth into his tender flesh and make his eyes glaze in ecstasy. 

the hunter inhaled, stiffening as he pushed himself from the table with a wooden creak. he shrugged on his hunting coat.

"i should go," he said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "there's a herd i've been following."

"hey." you dropped the bag, concern lacing your voice. the last time you had seen him tense like that was when you had asked what life had been like for him before. "are you alright?"

when he glanced at you, you swore you saw fear flash in his eyes. "we'll talk later."

before you could say anything else, he was out the door. 

__

there had been a time in his life in which he had been stripped of his sense of control: the caretaker of the orphanage, with her sweet smile that never quite reached her eyes, would take him by the hand and tell him that if he couldn’t pay her fee, then he’d just have to make it up to her another way. 

“you could do that, can’t you?” she’d say, lacing her fingers sweetly. the scent of her perfume was always so syrupy, like the rot that followed after the rain. 

that other way involved eden getting dragged to the fighting pit in the middle of the night, his nose bloody from punching the thug who threw him out of his own bed. 

years later, eden would learn that he had never been meant to fulfill the caretaker’s payments. he was the perfect choice to be her champion. out of everyone at the orphanage, eden was the biggest and the strongest. as far as she could tell, there was no one more ideal to be bruised and battered for cash.

but what was special about him had nothing to do with his strength or size: he was smart. in that reeking pit, which was nothing more than an abandoned pool surrounded by a raucous mix of the town's underground and elite, he would circle his opponents waiting for them to make the first move. if they charged at him, he would dodge. if they struck at him, he would catch their wrist and twist their bodies to meet the hard, mildewed tile below. losing meant getting hauled screaming into the unknown to horrors that made the pit look like child's play. winning was the only option he had, so it was what he did.  

but the thing about winning was that he had never been the winner. not truly.

eden was beautiful, all muscles glistening with blood and sweat, his gray eyes hollow as he surveyed the crowd that cheered in adoration for him. on that first night, after the final round, the last thing he remembered was getting wiped down with an icy towel as he was met with praise for his achievement. at some point, someone clapped his shoulder and gave him a drink, ice clinking against the glass. it had tasted sweet, went down all nice and cold.

and then nothing.  

he woke up to darkness. a strip of cloth around his eyes and rope around his wrists and ankles. he was naked, still bruised and aching but so, so warm. something had been in the drink. something that made him want to be touched. to be fucked and defiled. 

eden was so alluring, a beast in his element. all teeth but deprived of any bite. he was never meant to be the winner, but their prize all along.

there had been voices around him, amused by how he struggled ineffectually against his binds. he was so strong, wasn't he? but so weak, so pliable for them. hands traced the curve of his muscles and the cut of his jaw, mouths so hot and full of want pressed against his skin, cooing their congratulations as they stroked and teased him. against his will, his legs shook and moans spilled from his mouth. he was helpless. defenseless. and despite how much his mind screamed, his body only craved for more.

the forest came back to him, damp and smelling of earth and cedar. eden sighed, his breath fogging in the muggy autumn air. that night was long ago, but never had been far off. he had ran from the orphanage shortly after that, his pockets stuffed with the cash earned from the pit, a knife, a handful of seeds, and his best winter coat wrapped around him. as his shoes pounded the pavement, the sidewalk turned into loose ground and then later into fallen leaves.

once he was tired of running, eden took solace in the eaves of the pines, ate berries, washed himself in the lake to scrub away the memories. in the years following that, he made a home for himself. as he reveled in the safety of routine, he found a sense of control that steadied him whenever he felt his skin crawl with their touch. 

control was the one thing that had protected him throughout all these years. control had kept him alive, helped him start the fires that would warm his cold hands, helped him build a cabin to sleep in. as long as he could determine the boundaries he had when it came to interacting with the world around him, he would keep himself safe. 

the security of his routine lasted until the day he tracked a deer near the lake and found you. in all honesty, he didn’t know what possessed him. it had been a while since he had last seen another person, let alone conversed with one. on that warm summer day, you had offered him an apple slice, cool and crisp and sweet. with a smile, you told him that you had never seen eyes like his. 

for as long as he could remember, eden had never been good with words, but he could take you back to the cabin, no matter how much you kicked and screamed. 

despite his many attempts to tame you, you refused to give in. at one point, you even managed to run away. the hunter had tracked you for hours until you pounced on him, knocking him off-balance. once he was on the ground, you pressed a knife to his neck so hard that a line of blood bloomed on the blade. 

“i want us to start over.” although your voice was ragged with exhaustion, there was a fire in your eyes. sweat dropped from your cheek. “can we do that?” 

he could have rolled over and wrestled the knife from you. pinned your wrists just so he could prove who was really in control. 

but in that moment, as he stared at you haloed in the light of the clearing, all he could do was inhale. you were so strong, so beautiful, and he had been bested. 

“alright,” he said, a bead of blood running down his neck. “we’ll start over.” 

now, he carefully made his way through the brush, the damp earth muffling his movements. there was a boar nearby, kicking up at the patches of mushrooms and new sprouts brought up by the rain. 

the strap-on had been…a surprise. 

eden knew that he had left the cabin in a hurry, but he hadn't known what to say to you. how could he tell you that the thought of submission was one he met with both terror and intrigue? that he had nightmares about being strapped to that chair again, rendered unable to do anything else but squirm? how could he tell you that despite all of that, he still thought about the taste of your fingers in his mouth? 

control was his armor, but it was also his leash. a part of him was thrilled to know that despite what happened the last time you had seen each other, you still wanted to be with him. you still wanted him. 

the boar trudged into the clearing, grunting as it nudged at a sapling. eden crouched lower into the bush, careful not to break any branches. when he took a step forward to get a better vantage point of the animal, something hissed below him. a sweetness filled the air, syrupy and heavy like cherries boiled in sugar. 

when eden looked down, he saw that he had stepped on a patch of yellow puffballs, their disturbed bulbs spraying clouds of purple spores into the air. 

shit. he coughed, pressing his sleeve to his face and staggering away from the powdery cloud. amidst the chaos, he heard the boar whine and retreat further into the brush. eden’s eyes watered and he began to feel his skin warm. lost in his introspection, he had wandered too far into the forest, where the plants and the animals grew strange and twisted. 

his heartbeat roared in his ears. the cabin wasn’t too far off. if he was lucky, he would be able to treat himself before the effects set in. disoriented, he slipped off his shotgun and made his way back. 

__ 

marigold. echinacea. willow bark. the amber bottles clinked against each other softly as you organized the medicine shelf, making sure that the tinctures and extracts had been topped off with alcohol and the salves were still fresh and free of mold. there wasn’t much to do during autumn except prepare for the winter.

during the time you had spent away, eden had been especially productive: there were dozens of canned vegetables from the last garden’s harvest, bundles of herbs and strings of garlic bulbs hanging from the ceiling like withered bouquets, and strips of venison curing in the small root cellar. the man never had a penchant for sitting still and whenever you were away, he couldn’t help but keep his hands busy. 

you sighed at the thought of him, your shoulders sagging in disappointment. perhaps coming back with the strap-on had been too much for him. sure, you didn’t leave the cabin on the best of terms the last time, but you thought the gift would have been a nice gesture to assure him. if he ended up wanting to have nothing to do with it, then at least you would have something you could use to give him a show.

as you palmed the last bottle, something slammed into the front door. quickly, you slipped the tincture into your pocket and pulled the hunting knife strapped to your belt. although the cabin was nestled deep in the forest, there were times in which a panicked animal would crash into the structure as they fled from a predator. whatever it was, you weren’t going to take any chances. 

once you got to the door, eden crashed through it, his breath ragged from exertion. goosebumps prickled your skin at the rush of cold air from the forest. at the sight of him, the knife clattered to the ground. the hunter’s eyes were twin voids, his pupils straining against thin irises. 

“hey, what’s—” before you could finish, he lunged at you. 

the hunter was strong, but you were faster. quickly, you sidestepped away, making sure to kick the knife across the room. 

“i thought we were past this,” you said, referring to the months you had spent at his mercy. “you’re not still mad about me being late, are you?” 

there was no response. when eden swung at you again, you caught a whiff of something sickly sweet. something familiar. 

“shit,” you cursed, uncorking the bottle in your pocket to douse your sweater sleeve with the tincture. when he lunged for you, you slammed the wet fabric in his face. his hands clawed at your shirt, nails raking against your skin as he struggled. after a moment, his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the floor. 

__ 

eden woke up in a dream. instead of sunlight streaming through the forest canopy, he saw the ceiling of the cabin hazed in a light purple. the air was warm, tinged with the scent of drying herbs and pine. he could have sworn he was just in the middle of a hunt, raising his rifle to train it on a boar.

his body hummed. the hunter could feel the scratch of the blanket against his bare skin, the hot slick of sweat between his thighs, and the pull of the rope tighten around his wrists and ankles.

fear spiked through him. the memories of being strapped to the chair after winning at the fighting pits came rushing. this couldn’t be happening again. not after this long. after all this time, he thought he was safe, that he was okay, that— 

“you’re awake,” you said as you walked through the door. the bed dipped as you sat down beside him. steam curled from a mug in your hand. “the valerian did a pretty good job of knocking you out, huh?” 

“why am i tied up?” his words came out slurred, like he was trying to speak through a mouthful of syrup. eden sank his teeth into his mouth, trying to focus through the haze. 

your nails tapped against the mug in contemplation. “to keep you from me,” you said. “if i hadn’t acted quickly, i would have had to buy new clothes.” 

after a moment, you set the mug down and leaned over to look into his eyes. 

“i thought wiping you down would help, but your pupils are still dilated,” you observed. “the spores must’ve got you good.” 

he remembered the time you had first come across a flush of the strange fungi. they had fruited in the mushroom barrel, a cluster of yellow spheres among the fieldcaps and boletes. on that day, he dropped the firewood that he was hauling back to the cabin, worried about the way you were swaying. when he tried to ask if you were alright, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face to yours. 

"you could have had me," he said, swallowing. in that moment, you had been so pliable for him. after months of dealing with your stubbornness, it had been refreshing to see you so earnest for his touch. "it would have been...easy." 

a shadow fell over your face. “easy,” you repeated, pushing his hair from his eyes. eden shuddered, brief and sharp, at the sudden feeling of relief your touch provided him. "what fun would that have been?" 

knowing that you hadn’t chosen to take advantage of him in that state not only made his heart warm, but his body yearn even more for you. this moment was nothing like what happened in his past. 

“show me,” eden said, the words spilling out of him before he could realize what he was saying. the hunter had never been one to beg, but his skin felt like it was on fire and he needed you to touch him. he needed more relief. you were the balm to his suffering and the only person who could take care of him. “have your fun.” 

after a moment, he realized that he had pulled the ropes taut by trying to get closer to you. in that moment, he was intimately aware of your presence: the scent of arousal and soap on your skin, the softness of your breathing, and your fingers resting along his jaw. he wanted nothing more than to close the distance. 

“you know what i want.” your fingers lifted his face and there, yet again, was that hunger in your eyes. “are you sure about this?” 

eden inhaled, and found himself nodding. he thought of the nights he spent alone, the years that had stretched between you two, the taste of you in his mouth. anyone else would have taken advantage of him, but you were the only person he would ever grant his submission. 

“it’s you,” he said. "i'll do anything for you."

your hand slid down his neck to the center of his chest before you pressed him back to the bed, the sensation of your touch cool against his feverish skin. he bit back a whine, trying to keep himself from begging for more. 

from the nightstand, you produced a small bottle of lube. your hand began to drift from his chest, slipping under the sheet, drawing a path of pleasure that made him groan. 

“the spores dilate your blood vessels,” you murmured, drawing away the blanket to expose his naked body. “they make you sensitive to touch and encourage the release of oxytocin once stimulated.” 

“did you, ah, learn that from your classes?” 

you placed yourself between his legs. “i’ve seen a few experiments.” 

hearing that sent a pang of jealousy through him. he imagined you dosing yourself with a tincture of active spores, blushing as someone else’s hands roamed your body. “you didn’t…join them, did you?” 

“what?” you scoffed, pouring some of the lube onto your fingers. “i’m not like that.” 

“i took notes,” you continued. the hunter jumped when he felt a long, slim finger dip between his cheeks, wet and warm with lube. “we live in the forest, so i wanted to know how something like that could affect you.” 

“how considerate,” he said, breath heavy as your fingertip began to circle his hole. he hadn’t often touched himself there for pleasure, but the feeling wasn’t unwelcome. “any progress on that?” 

“i think it’s promising.” you smiled, and slipped a finger inside. slowly, you slid the digit in and out, easing him into the sensation. it wasn’t until you pushed another finger inside and rubbed against something that made his vision go white that he gasped, half-straining against the ropes that bound him. 

“fuck,” he grunted as you began to quicken the pace, coaxing moans from him that echoed throughout the cabin. he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to grind into your hand or into the mattress. 

eden thought he was going to go insane. he’d never thought you would ever have him like this, that you would take him this way, that you would want him in this state. he glanced at you and saw the blush that reddened your cheeks as you watched him writhe.

a feeling cracked inside of him. the need to let go, to give in, to fall into the depths of your desire. 

“so,” he panted, skin on fire. he swore that he was going to melt. “are you going to fuck me or what?” 

you held the back of his thigh with your other hand and pushed yourself down to your knuckles, earning a whine that shut him right up. 

“someone’s a little pushy today,” you said, sliding your fingers out of him. the lack of pressure made him shudder, making him bite back a whimper at the emptiness. “if i untie you, will you behave for me?” 

eden nodded. it took a moment for you to slip off your clothes, the pale glow of the moonlight exposing your pert breasts and the series of scars that adorned your torso. once you were bare, he felt the rope loosen from his ankles. when you climbed over him to unfasten his wrists, he took your nipple in his mouth, drawing circles around the tender bud with his tongue. 

already, he could feel his cock getting slick from your cunt. if he angled his hips right, then he could just— 

you pushed him away, his mouth leaving a line of saliva that connected you to him. he felt the sharp pull of your fingers tangled in his hair cut through the haziness of his lust. “i told you to behave,” you warned him. “will you be good for me?” 

eden licked his lips. it took him some effort to not grab you by the hips and take you right then and there. “i’ll be good for you.”

the rope around his wrists loosened and he felt your thumbs rub at the indents left on his wrists before you stood up from the bed to take the harness from the nightstand and slip it on. 

eden watched you, half dressed in shadow, adjusting the straps so they could rest on your hips. over the years, your body had grown more muscular from working around the cabin—so lithe and strong. the hunter couldn’t keep his eyes off you or the harness wrapped around you. the phallic device was just as advertised: sizable and textured with lines reminiscent of veins. 

obediently, he lied back on the mattress and prepared himself for what was to come, his cock stiffening in anticipation. after a moment, he heard you pop the cap off the lube and your fingers slick the strap-on. 

“what made you want to do this?” he said as you settled yourself between his thighs. 

a look of adoration fell on your face. “so i could see you like this.” gently, you touched his hip with your bandaged hand. “it’ll be easier if you face away from me.” 

"no." he took your wrist, the grip tight. memories of being restrained threatened to surface. he thought of the hands, the mouths, the marks they branded onto his skin. "i want to see you," he said, swallowing. "i want to know that it's you." 

“watch me, then.” you said once he released you, guiding the strap-on inside him as he held up his thighs. “i want you to see me fill you up.” 

you fucked into him, slow and hot, the stretch and burn of the toy earning a groan from him. 

"are you alright?" you paused. all of this was so new to the both of you and the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. 

the hunter clenched his teeth. he needed more. he needed all of you. “shut up and fuck me already,” he growled. 

soon enough, you buried yourself to the hilt, the sudden fullness causing him to claw at the sheets. 

“some patience would do you good,” you said, rolling your hips to loosen him up even more. between the strokes and the press of the harness against his ass, all eden could do was keen. 

“even more of you would be better.” 

“god, you’re such a slut,” you laughed, bending over to press your body against his. at the contact, his skin became alight with pleasure. “does that make you feel good?” you asked, gentle. 

“y-yeah,” he answered, voice shaky. his head swirled. the hunter had no words for how euphoric he felt having you fuck him all slow and deep, how intoxicating it was to know that you could unravel him like this. 

you licked at his lips before taking them between your teeth. eden’s hands raked across your back, low moans pitching out of his throat. 

“you sound so nice when you do that,” you said between breaths, his shadow brushing against your skin as you kissed him. “what if i fucked you harder?” 

“don’t keep me waiting.” he bit your lip, drawing blood. “you think i can’t take it?”  

“i’m going to make you take it,” you purred, hips snapping forward as you quickened your thrusts, your new momentum encouraged by the pleasure you were wringing out of your hunter. underneath you, the bed groaned. his whines were trapped between your mouths. 

eden’s breaths came out in short puffs. with each thrust, he felt his own orgasm rising and his gut tightening. 

all of this was so good. he felt so full, so relieved within your embrace.

“you trust me, don't you?" your thrusts slowed. his eyes opened to find your skin shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat and your body flush with exertion. in that moment, your face had shifted to something more serious. “you trust me, don’t you? tell me you do.” 

your voice was soft, tender. all he could see was the expression you had made all those years ago when you had asked him if you two could start over. 

“yes,” he breathed, tangling his fingers in your hair. “i–i trust you.” 

after a moment, you pulled back to pour more lube onto your hand before taking his cock and wrapping your fingers around the length of it. the hunter gasped, your name spilling from his mouth as you fucked him. 

“i’ll always come back to you,” you murmured, thrusting into him so deep that he began to see stars. “i wouldn’t leave you.” 

you shoved two fingers into his mouth. he sucked on them, mindless, tasting honey and tea as the gauze on your palm brushed his face. there was the sweetness of your fingers, the scent of blood on your hand. 

with little warning, eden came clenching on the fake cock inside him as his own cock throbbed and pulsed in your grip. he cried out, legs shaking, letting loose a string of profanities as he made a mess all over his stomach and chest. 

you eased your thrusts, gently pulling away from him. you took a deep inhale before loosening the straps on the harness and to slip it off and set it aside. 

“c’mere.” eden grabbed you by the hip, pulling you closer. “sit on my face.” 

you obliged, climbing over him to place his face between your thighs. his breath was warm against your core, his gray eyes hazy as they beheld you. 

“it’d be a shame if i had all the fun,” he said before tonguing at your wetness, pulling soft moans from you. the straps had made you particularly sensitive from rubbing against you, so it was all too easy to make your core tighten. 

“eden,” you huffed, hips rocking against his face as you held the headboard to steady yourself. “fuck, oh my god, oh my god—” 

heat spread throughout your abdomen as your pleasure crested, your legs trembling as he sucked on your clit. although you were coming, eden continued to lap at your tender folds until you could barely handle it. 

once your thighs stopped shaking, you pushed yourself off eden and lay down next to him, your bodies a mess of hot, sweaty limbs. 

when he caught your eye, you smiled. his eyes were no longer dilated. whatever effects the spores had on him had passed, but his tenderness had remained.

“so,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. this was your hunter, as strange and beautiful as the forest you had grown to love.

“you like the gift? sirris said i have to come back with a review.” 

eden chuckled quietly, pulling you closer to him. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, gentle and soft. he looked at you as if you were precious, as if you were something he wanted to keep.

"being with you is already a gift.” 

[hana-bobo-finch]

what a precious little guy. i hope nothing bad ever happens to him

[journey-to-the-attic]

@valenrien submitted:

tried making it similar to ur style :3

rereading the fic and this is pretty much how their interactions went /hj

(based on that one audio on tiktok btw)

—

SDHSBDJH SO CUTE!! thank you so much, this is so them <3

[dirtychainsawconfessions]

okay hi. this may seem long but ivebeen meaning to get myshjt out about my freaky cannibal men for SOOSO long. will possibly write to this blog again^_^.

i can imagine, once nubbins can some how (if even possible) get into the rhythm of having intercourse more often, he'd be really needy for you. it could be mid day and he'd think about skin touching skin and get so worked up just thinking about the feeling of him in you (or you in him) and eventually comes to you to beg to fuck you (or, again, you fucking him)

i feel like he wouldn't be very verbal during sex but his noises would speak enough for him, almost sounding like sobs from how good you feel and how so incredibly overwhelmed he is from the burning feeling in his stomach at this intercourse.

anyways nubbins should totally let me hit id make him feel like a nice boy wink wink nudge nudge (i pound him until he sheds tears)

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[ultfan]

the greatest struggle of all is believing komaeda would be hypersexual (it makes sense given what we know — i could write up a whole thing on it), but knowing half the fandom portrays him that way — but like. in a way i hate and view as really strange LMAO.

[spacedlexi]

me collecting every vague line about minnie to piece together what kind of person she really was pre-delta

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a partner who likes to bite

Okay, anon. I'll be honest. When I read this prompt, I immediately thought of "cute aggression." Not sure if that is what you meant or if you meant something else, but that's what I went with. Kinda. There are some more suggestive undertones in a few of these. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you so much for sending it in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, biting, cute aggression, established relationship, teasing, flirting, suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Are you teething?” asks John. “Do I need to get you a pacifier?"

John sounds annoyed, but you know that he isn’t. Not really. He happily puts up with your shenanigans.

"Can't help it,” you reply, showing your teeth. “You're too tempting."

The two of you are curled up in bed. He’s trying to read. And you’re trying to annoy him. When John is shirtless and reclined in bed, you have a clear view of his muscles. The temptation is always there, and it’s a pull you can’t resist. The aggression isn’t violent. It’s just overwhelming.

Clearly not liking your answer, John grunts. He tosses his book aside, uncaring of losing his place. One moment you’re next to him, and the next you’re fully on your back, trapped beneath his weight.

Giggling, you playfully shove at him, but there is no intention to escape from him. It’s not like you could break out of his grasp if you tried. He is warm and taut. A weighted blanket. This is what you wanted all along. To be beneath him.

"Stop."

He nips at your throat.

"Fucking."

Then he nips at your shoulder.

"Biting."

Finally, John nips at your upper arm.

"Me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Someone's going to think you're abusing me."

You grimace, even though Kyle’s tone is teasing and not at all upset. His arm and neck are peppered with small teeth marks. Most of them look like random little indents in the skin while others appear to be in the beginnings of bruising.

“I might have used excessive force,” you murmur, thumbing one of the marks.

Sometimes you can’t help yourself. The need to do it is overwhelming. Most times, you shake it off.

Kyle grins. “I like them. They’re little reminders.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Reminders of what?”

Kyle leans in, hand sliding up your back to grasp the nape of your neck. Pulling you close, Kyle lowers his voice. It’s all sultry smoothness.

"Of how many times I can make you come,” he coos.

“Kyle!” You lightly smack his chest, face heating as his gaze softens.

He shrugs. “You also just like to bite me.”

“Can’t help it,” you mutter.

“You’re like one of those small dogs,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you dare,” you scold.

“Adorable. Sweet at first glance.”

“Kyle.”

“Mean bite.”

“I swear to God, Kyle.”

“A—”

You place your hand over his mouth.

John "Soap" MacTavish

With Johnny as your bed, you spread yourself over him, head resting against his right pectoral. A rugby game is on. Johnny’s completely focused on the television as the two teams move about the field like small insects.

Johnny’s large, muscled arms are draped over your back, but his left bicep is dangerously close to your face. Every vein is pronounced. Tempting. You want to trace them with your tongue.

A naughty little urge creeps in. Makes itself known. Slithers around your brain to whisper that you should.

What’s one little bite?

It won’t hurt.

Like an itch that needs to be scratched, you lean forward, lightly chomping down on Johnny’s arm. The urge settles, the neurons in your brain content and happy.

Startled, Johnny jerks. Then, he laughs, arms tightening around you.

One second, you’re in full cuteness aggression. The next, Johnny is rolling you over, trapping you beneath him against the couch. Instead of you biting him, it’s Johnny biting you.

You shriek playfully, but he continues to nibble.

“Let me go,” you laugh. Smacking at him does nothing.

“You little goblin,” he mutters, dragging you off the couch and hauling you toward the bedroom, rugby match forgotten.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon wears only a thin, black shirt, leaving his arms bare. Your mouth waters at the sight of the protruding veins and taut muscles. The urge to touch and taste is overwhelming. It burns bright and hot beneath your skin.

"What are you looking at?" asks Simon without looking away from the menu board on the far wall.

“Nothing,” you reply instantly, glancing away like you weren’t thinking about his muscles.

A few seconds pass, and then you slip an arm between his, clinging to Simon. He doesn’t react. The menu board has his full attention. Simon is more worried about filling his stomach.

Turning your face into his arm, the urge to bite down��to unleash the aggression—wells inside you like a tsunami. At first, you resist, reminding yourself that you are in public and this behavior is inappropriate.

But you lose.

Your mouth starts to open, teeth poised to lightly bite.

“My arm isn’t a chew toy,” says Simon out of the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't bite," you mutter.

Simon slips his arm out of your grasp and then drapes it over your shoulders.

He leans in close. "You can bite me all over later."

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@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[monstersholygrail]

You, a cute Deer hybrid foolishly make another attempt to get away from your Tiger hybrid bf’s grip while his tongue ravishes you in the name of “grooming.” You huff, slumping against his paws that encircle your body.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending a chill down your spine. You try as hard as you can to not appear as aroused that you are by it, but when you hear him inhale sharply you know he’s picked up on the scent of lust that seeps from your pores.

“It’s no use trying to get away from me, mate.” You can’t help but whimper, the jittering buzz of restlessness coursing through your pent up body.

“I wanna run,” you whine, looking longingly toward the grassy distance even as you arch into his embrace. A part of you resisting possibly because you know how wound up it makes him.

A second later the tiger’s prickly tongue resumes its course of lapping up and down your exposed throat and you shiver, resisting a pleased sigh that begs to be released. A rumble passes through his chest as he soaks up your warmth, his protective instincts roaring to life at your irritating insistence.

“If you run then you get dirty and then you will be right back here in my enduring embrace with no chance of escape,” he growls, not completely hating the idea for a moment. The idea of caring for his mate’s body as much as he wrecks it an intriguing one. So why not do both?

Even with his warning you don’t stop your wriggling. Of course you don’t. Not when the urge to run and burn off your energy is pumping through your veins. You don’t even notice how your endless squirming has you grinding into your bf’s dick, causing it to harden and stir to life. Bringing forth its need to hunt and make its prey submit. He rumbles huskily in your ear, jerking forward and pinning you down with his hips.

“Stop your moving this instant or I’ll make you,” he threatens with that deadly rasp in his tone that would’ve had you baring your neck for him in an instant if you were paying any attention.

Your damn squirming doesn’t stop and it’s even worse now that his aching cock is nestled right between your plump thighs. His red bulging tip dribbling pre-cum. The fact that you don’t even notice as it leaks down onto your exposed slit is his last straw.

“That’s fucking it. You’re done for.”

Chilling noises leave him as he leans back and yanks your ass up into the air. Flipping your dress up and fully exposing your glistening pussy to the cold air as you help in surprise. That yelp quickly growing into a full-blown cry as before you realize what’s going on, your bf slips his entire length inside your warm wet cunt in a single thrust.

He doesn’t bother waiting for you to adjust before he starts slamming his cock along your quivering walls. His claws digging into your fur to keep you perfectly still for his onslaught. You hadn’t given him a moment of relief and he plans on affording you the same courtesy. Growls tear from his throat at how tight you are, especially as your pretty pussy clenches down on him like the good Doe you are.

You moan wildly, your body buzzing as it finally gets the exercise it truly needed. You try and meet his thrusts but your bf roars in protest, his claws sinking deeper into your flesh. Snapping his cock inside you with brutal thrusts, using your body like a fleshlight. Fucking into you with no restraint and unleashing all his pent up frustrations on you. Just like him your climax sneaks up on you and completely overwhelms you with endless shocks of pleasure. Your body shakes as he doesn’t stop, prolonging the buzzing inside you and you have a feeling he’s not gonna stop for a long time…

With each orgasm that wracks through your form, your body grows weaker. The only thing keeping you upright anymore is your bf’s claws still sunk into your hips. Drool pools from your lips as he pumps inside your pussy just right. Clearly aiming for his own release as few thrusts later he’s spilling himself deep inside you, filling your spent cunt to the brim with his cum. A sweet little reward for how good you were for him.

“Look at you. So perfect like this,” he says in awe, his claws scraping up and down your back in a way that has you moaning weakly.

Your body is so perfectly still, your mind completely fucked out. He now has you exactly how he needs you. With you no longer able to move, your bf leans over you, cock still fully sheathed inside you, and resumes his grooming. This time with no interrupts besides the occasional whimper.

[tevinter]

Veilguard fails to realise that for those who believe, faith is stronger than anything, even facts.

Right in the beginning of Veilguard all the Dalish/veil jumpers are so nonchalant and against their gods returning, as if they were convinced offscreen that their whole faith was based on a lie (even though they all still wear vallaslin) and their gods were Evil™. This, again, fails to consider that the vast majority of the Dalish would either not believe or not care because it's their religion, their faith.

Morally ambiguous gods exist in real life religions too and it didn't stop people from believing in them. Divine morality transcends mortal understanding, so their actions are always rightful. This also leads to the concept of a 'god-fearing' person - even the term used (θεοσεβής) can mean both respect and fear. Mortals are humbled by the gods' power and greatness, and willfully submit to their divine authority.

You needn't go further than the goddamn Bible itself to see countless examples of unethical things that God did/supported including legitimization of slavery and punishment (Exodus 21:20-21 “Anyone who beats their male or female slave with a rod must be punished if the slave dies as a direct result, but they are not to be punished if the slave recovers after a day or two, since the slave is their property." is one unhinged example), cannibalism, many kinds of violence, war, and of course, genocide, one of which was literally the deliberate destruction of nearly all humanity and living creatures on earth. The god of the most widely practiced religion in the world for millenia. Ask a devout Christian if they would stop believing in God just because 'um actually he is bad'.

Mystery is also a great aspect of religion, which also makes it an excellent worldbuilding element for writers. Mystery adds to the immersion because just like the characters, we don’t know everything except the beliefs and unanswered questions. And we're not supposed to, because this is how religion works in real life, where faith is about belief rather than what’s fully understood. It makes the story feel more real and engaging. Professional writers - of a AAA title no less - should know this.

Religion was one of the greatest themes in all previous games, especially Andrastianism and the Elven pantheon. Reducing it all to 'the Evanuris did it' is disappointing to say the least, and even if it was the truth that only the writers knew, they should have kept it that way, or at least some of the mystery. It adds immersion, drama, nuance, it encourages thought and discussion. For all Veilguard failed in the 'show, don't tell' rule, in this case this is too much exposure, and not even done in a good way. ''Religion is fake, so now everyone's atheist or unfazed. Oh, except for one (1) person who is mildly upset'' is not how faith works, especially in a setting so religious as Thedas.

[sleyu]

thinking about how mean!bf sirius would have a hugeee corruption kink, he just wants to ruin your mind yk

idk maybe its just me

i think mean or not, it is definite that sirius black has a corruption kink and it unquestionably couples with his possessive nature.

just imagine mean bf ! sirius meeting you for the first time. you’re a timid, but undoubtedly kind individual who is meek next to him—fully aware of sirius’ notoriety in his personality and habits. he becomes so awestruck, he has nothing to respond to your unassuming questions aside from the occasional nod or gentle murmur.

he displays a calm, relatively friendly aura until the pair of you begin to become acquainted with each other and ultimately, begin dating. it is only then, that the mean teasing and snickers begin, and his heart bursts with joy at the sound of your bashful whines and protests every time he playfully slaps your ass or tugs your skirt, laughing and pulling you close to him, muttering how his actions are all in good fun and that he’d never let anything actually hurt you.

‘so bloody sensitive. y’know i’d rather die than let someone lay a hand on you, dummy.’

and of course, sirius isn’t stupid. he’s been having lewd, perverted thoughts about you since the day he met you. in fact, it was only the same night that sirius cast a silencing charm around his bed to hide the sinful sounds of him grunting as he fisted his cock, thoughts about bending you over the classroom desk polluting his already depraved mind.

since you’ve started dating, he reckons it’s time to manifest these fantasies into life, especially after noticing how your meek gaze has begun to linger on his broad chest and widen at the sight of his bulging crotch. his inner self beams with joy and crude anticipation every time he feels you pawing at his thighs, looking up at him in despair as if you’re unsure of what you really want or why the throbbing ache in between your thighs is only getting worse.

i think mean bf ! sirius would definitely become dizzy at the sight of you on your knees, hands gripping his muscular thighs, begging him to let you suck his cock or to fill your cunt up. usually he was the one doing the begging, but here you were, pliant, obedient, and desperate for his every touch. he genuinely has to sit down and stare at you while also controlling the immoral urge of forcing his cock down your throat, watching how your eyes widen and become teary as your throat contracts and chokes around his pulsating cock.

he genuinely cannot control himself once he sees you fully submit to him, begging him to give you the exact things you were too shy about even insinuating merely a month ago. it makes him feel so accomplished knowing that he was the one that made your brain all cloudy and fuzzy—that he was the one who got your cunt hooked on the feeling of his relentless, unforgiving cock.

‘sirius—my fingers—they’re not good enough—need your cock in me—jus’ want you to ruin ‘n abuse me—please da—’ as soon as you become close to uttering the last word, he’s already lifted up your skirt and forced his cock inside your aching pussy anyways, groaning into your mouth and fucking you ten times harder than he would have any other day.

‘slut—you’ve become a little slut—oh, fuck—‘n who’s are you, huh?’

it becomes the first time that sirius loses all sense of reason and caution as it has become evident to him that he’s irreversibly corrupted you into becoming just as disgusting and perverted as him.

‘nah, not sirius’, honey, you're daddy’s, yeah?’

‘gross fuckin’ bitch loves that, huh, puppy? you like it when daddy forces himself inside you like that, hm?’

‘hogwarts newest slut, yeah? but only mine, isn’t that right? only i get to ruin—fuck—this whorish cunt—mmm,’

sirius is so mean, he doesn’t even tell you when he’s about to cum :( he makes you cum and afterward, you’re a fucked out mess because he just doesn’t stop. your eyebrows begin to furrow and you can only manage to mumble a quiet ‘sirius?’ before he groans into your neck, breath all hot and heavy, and pumps you full of his hot, sticky cum. all you can do is whine and writhe beneath him as he pushes your knees to your chest and uses your cunt to drain his massive cock.

all the while, he’s reveling in the realization that he has just cummed inside you and that if spells and birth control were forgotten, it would be no surprise if you fell pregnant with the copious amounts of cum pumped inside your spent hole.

‘my dirty girl likes when daddy breeds her, doesn’t she? oh, don’t shake your head, pup, i know you like it—can feel you clench—god—around me right now.’

sirius gets so turned on when you confess that you can’t make yourself cum without him ever since the two of you started having sex. the image of you crying out in frustration at the feeling of your own neediness and the dull throbbing in between your sore thighs—incapable of doing anything without his guidance—makes his cock harden far quicker than it should have.

‘poor thing. my dumb girl can’t do anything without me, can she? your small fingers just aren’t as daddy, hm?’ paired with a faux, mocking frown because sirius black is an asshole that is very visibly ecstatic that you’ll always have to come to him to find a release.

and nothing fuels his ego more than having you beg him to stuff you full of his cum before class begins. he loses his mind seeing the effects of ruining your perfect, angelic interior. his once smart, goody-two-shoes, good-girl has become a conniving slut, her own cunt betraying any logic or rational thinking within her mind :( seeing his shy, perfect-attendance girlfriend begging him to skip class with her to fuck in a dingy broom closet is all it takes for him to bust right then and there.

[thinkinonsense]

call me if you're lonely⟡

old man!logan howlett x phone sex hotline worker!reader

cw: dirty talk, mutual masturbation

author's note: very short. just an idea that came to mind.

masterlist

this is so desperate, logan thought to himself as he dialed the number written on the fourth page in the second column. in pretty cursive words it read, call me if you're lonely!

your number had been living in the back of his head for almost a month now but he never got this close to calling it. in the column, it's written that you are a college student working on your masters degree and that you are very popular within your profession as a phone sex hotline worker. honestly, logan didn't care if you just started yesterday. he's been so stressed and overworked lately that he needs a release soon. logan waited as the phone rang after entering his card information. he's sat up on the old mattress under him, waiting patiently to see if anyone answers.

on the third ring, someone picks up.

"thanks for calling, hush hotline." you say, giving him the typical welcome speech before jumping straight in. "what would ya' like me to call you tonight, sugar?"

the sweet tone in your voice made logan's boxers feel tighter. resting his hand on top of his heavy cock, squeezing lightly and slowly stroking himself over the thin material.

"james is fine, honey." logan mutters.

"i like the way you call me, honey." you purr, getting relaxed in bed.

you had a long day; woke up late, missed class, messed up during important meeting at work and needed to blow off some steam. normally, the people you talk to over the phone don't have an effect on you, instead opting to fake it and offer phony pornstar like moans but something made you want to give it another shot.

"is that so?"

the stranger's voice was rough around the edges. deep, cold, straight to the point. it sent a shiver up your spine. usually, your customers were weak. willing to give into your every word and fully submit to you.

"mhm," you hum, lightly running your fingers up and down your thigh. "so, what's gotcha call in tonight, james? rough day at work or you just wanna hear me touch myself for you?"

"bit of both." he was already lost in this little world between the two of you.

“aw, can’t wait to make you feel good." you tell him, playing with the lace of your underwear. "wanna hear what i'm wearing right now?"

"mhm." he grunts.

"a white t-shirt and lacy blue underwear. wish you were here to take them off of me." you sigh, slipping your hand under the waistband.

"what would you do if i was there right now?"

"hmm, think i'd start by kissing you, making sure you get nice and hard for me then i would beg you to fuck my tight throat for hours. are you hard for me right now?"

"y-yes." logan sighs, trying to slow down a bit.

"that's sweet, james. got me blushing just thinkin' about it." you run your middle finger through your folds, gathering the slick and circling your button a couple times.

"just blushing?" he teases, catching you off guard.

"not 'just blushing'." you giggle softly. "you also got me r-really–ah, fuck! really soaked."

logan could hear the obscene squeak of you dipping your fingers inside of yourself. his chest moves up and down at the same rhythm as his strokes. your pretty little gasps made it difficult for him not to release right away.

"s-shit, honey." he groans, listening to the small wet slaps of you fucking yourself. "wanna taste that pussy of yours. i'm sure it's as sweet as that fuckin' mouth you got on you, honey."

never have you actually gotten wet from the men that call you. most of them let you do all the talking, only offering moans and whimpers. you couldn't quite place a finger on it but something about james was doing it for you.

"w-wish it was you inside of me instead of my fingers." you whine, tickling the spot that makes your vision blur.

"bet you would look so pretty wrapped around my cock, honey."

"i would look even prettier with you dripping out of me." faintly, you can hear him shuffling around, trying to stifle his groans. "don't hide yourself, baby. wanna hear you."

like a rubber band, something snapped inside of logan. unable to control his noises anymore, he's fucking his fist faster than before, chasing after every little moan you let out.

you move to rubbing your button switching occasionally, picturing the man that you believe james to be. a little older and rugged. maybe even someone your father would be friends with. someone you would definitely have a secret crush on.

logan's hips thrusted with need. the louder you got, the faster his orgasm was approaching. he had to hold off, he thought to himself. hear you cum first. by the broken whines and little hiccups you let out, he could tell you were only moments away from your release.

"f-fuck, i'm so close." you squeal, legs shaking a little as you near your high.

"me too, honey."

within seconds, your head is thrown back against the silky pillow case. the sheets under you were drenched but you were too full of bliss to care. logan finally allowed himself to let go as well, pearly white spurts coating his lower stomach and even some landing on his tank top. it's quiet for a minute or so before your little giggles can be heard on the other end of the line.

"something funny?" he asks, confused.

"no, no, it's just..." you giggle again with a sigh. "ever since i started this job, no one's ever made me orgasm. at least not like that."

"hm.." logan couldn't fight off the smile creeping on his face. "might need to call more often then."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, jing yuan, aventurine

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (fem! receiving), toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub

⚝ — BLADE

blade feels to you like a storm, his grip on you endlessly overwhelming yet not because he's forcing it on you, no, but because his dependence on you was suffocating.

the stellaron hunter was dangerous, you were very much aware of it, although never pondering on the fact that you were playing with fire here.

his cock slides in between your folds before slipping to your hole, right then, you can feel the hot push of his tip, slow at first, but persistent, burning and stretching you. blade opens you up as you clutch at his shoulders each time, you're certain you can take him, you can't— it won't fit—such always crosses your mind but, you see, your skin was burning and hungry, submitting to him, to his cock sliding in fully— so smooth on your walls, thick inside, searing.

blade clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity, and well— maybe you were, he certainly looks at you with an intensity that borders on desperation, a string he needed to hold on to if he wanted to keep at least a little bit of humanity inside himself or else, he’d fall apart.

"you ground me," he murmurs, voice low, his hand searching for your own as he grips it a little too tightly— his neediness haunting as he slumps forward, still thrusting hungry shoves of his cock into you as the rhythm changes just a little, but the pressure was increasing, becoming more meaningful.

in this rare moments, the way his hands tremble slightly when he brushes your hair behind your ear, there’s a tenderness, yes, but you cannot shake off the feeling of being scared of him— were his words the truth? did he mean what he said? would he hurt you in the end or are you really the one to put a light in his dark, twisted world?

⚝ — JING YUAN

jing yuan was always in control, his charm making each and every friend or foe bend to his will effortlessly— and well, you’re no exception. 

frankly, he's used to people following his lead without question, without turning on their own brains, his words were so fittingly persuasive that you barely even notice when you started agreeing with everything he said.

you whine out a breathy, "fuck, more—" as he laps at your clit, the vibrations of his hums and groans making you arch your back into him— you're so sensitive, jing yuan makes you feel all of it with his tongue, all the nerves down there and how muscle slurped and licked a stripe along your slit to tease you, shamelessly moaning against your pussy right after.

"i’m only looking out for you," he lazily mumbles into your cunt, "I know what's ugh—, what's best for you," his fucked out grin disarms you completely as you look down, admiring the view of his hands, big hands, clutching at your trembling thighs before he gives your stomach an anticipatory twist.

he's not forceful though, don't misunderstand, yeah? because simply, jing yuan doesn’t need to be, his self assured confidence made it feel like any resistance would be literally ridiculous. 

after all, his charisma pulls you in, his beauty and face being chocolate box pretty, ethereal and powerful, leaving you wanting to please him too, so badly yeah, to stay on his good side.

⚝ — AVENTURINE

from the outside, aventurine was unable to be read— and even once you got close to him, you found yourself having more difficulties reading him.

his standards were impossibly high, that's for sure, and he never hesitates to point out when you fall short. for some reason he critiques everything you do, from the way you handle the tasks he's given you to your smallest habits, never failing in exhaustedly rolling his eyes with an edge of frustration.

however, wasn't it just amazing how he was always there to clean up the "mess" you made in getting all the tasks wrong, or anything really.

something unmistakable random could happen in your life, even just a favorite item you suddenly lost and aventurine would always be there to help you— like a white knight.

of course, you cannot question him on anything, he was your superior and losing your job would be the last thing you wanted, next to losing the little relationship you've built over the last couple of months with him.

you feels it in your legs, your stomach, your hands, your soul when he touches you— pleasures you.

it's the desire overtaking you first, making you give yourself up entirely to the harsh rhythm of his hips displaying no mercy. aventurine hisses as you squeeze him, the faintness in his head almost making him swoon as your leg tremble and his cock throbs hard in you, the tremulous thrill inside your belly building to a merciless dance.

"i’ll be here, buried right here—" he hums and grinds his hips, his fingers drawing a line on your stomach, up and down, "feel that? you feel me there?"

"not that you, fuck— deserve it," he grunts, cupping your cheeks and brushing a thumb over your lips, "you made so many mistakes today," he breathes while staring down at his cock splitting your puffy cunt.

he adds, "you should be thankful i was there,"

an embarrassed, little sorry was all you managed to get out in return and ugh— the friction of him rubbing against your walls felt absolutely sickening, like you're about to cum and scream any second now.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[daycourtofficial]

You two are dancing in a snow globe round and round

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 8.2k | warnings: needles/requiring stitches

Summary: four times a trope fails to bring you and Azriel together, one time it prevails. This is my submission for @sjmromanceweek day 5: favorite tropes (and yes these are all elite tropes, argue with the wall 😤)

Author’s note: this is for my You Are in Love by Taylor Swift girlies. Also on the fence about the ending but ya know it felt right and @ninthcircleofprythian loved it so her opinion is the correct one

Fake dating

The streets of Velaris are quiet. A sleepy morning after the holiday excitement of Starfall has died down. A week past it and the fae are still holed up in their homes, only going out when necessary. The cobblestone streets are mostly empty, you, Nyx, and Azriel passing the occasional fae as they move in the opposite direction. They would nod or wave at the three of you, but never linger to talk, eager to get on their way. 

A light tugging on your scarf brings you out of your daze. Looking down to find Nyx’s blue eyes looking up at you, his tiny hands pulling on your scarf. “Az, can you help undo my scarf?”

The two of you stop, moving over to the side of the street to avoid being in anyone’s way. Azriel’s scarred fingers reach out, unwrapping the scarf from your neck, and rewrapping it to include Nyx. The babe has been doing this all week to anyone wearing a scarf - tugging incessantly until he was also tucked into the scarf. If he was after the scent or the warmth, nobody knew. Cassian had even bought him a scarf, a little thin knitted piece of black wool, thinking the boy would be delighted. Nyx cried and pulled on the scarf when Cassian wrapped it around his neck before spitting up on it. 

The princeling is still holding a slight grudge against Cassian, in turn causing the general to try desperately to get Nyx’s affections back - holding him constantly, playing with him, trying to slip him some sweet treats. Cassian’s antics have led the three of you here, walking the streets of town instead of being in the River House. 

You usually watched Nyx in the afternoons and after a week of Cassian’s antics you had quickly grown tired of his need to get back in the heir’s good graces. As soon as Azriel returned from training and bathed, you had rushed the two of them out of the house with you before Cassian could come looking for Nyx.

Nyx settles in your arms, enjoying the comfort the scarf brings him. His head rests against your shoulder, the slightest bit of drool permeating your jacket. You sigh, cursing yourself for wearing your favorite coat when you know just how messy Nyx is.

“He’s quite fond of you,” Azriel’s deep voice is laced with affection. You look down at Nyx, finding it difficult not to coo over how cute he looks snuggled up to you.

“He better be - I spend more time with him than anyone save for Rhys and Feyre. Hopefully he remembers that when I begin my plans to take over the world.”

Nyx’s little giggle comes from underneath the scarf, immediately bringing a smile to your face. One of Azriel’s hands lingers around the small of your back, gently helping guide you down the near empty street. 

“When you take over, will you spare me? I hear a shadowsinger could be very useful in world domination.” He leans into your ear, his voice soft as to not disturb the silence of the road.

You start moving down the street again, Azriel just a half step behind you. His left wing was open around your back, offering protection to you and the princeling. You wanted to sink into it, let his wing envelop you fully.

“You'll have to submit an application, I already have quite a few offers.”

“I’d expect nothing less, but I am hoping some favoritism can move my application forward.”

“Mm, does favoritism come with perks?”

“I’ll buy your lunch and any pretty things you find on the way back to the house.”

“Oh, I like your methods of persuasion, shadowsinger.”

The two of you walk into the bakery, Azriel holding the door open for you and Nyx to walk through first.

“I’m just saying, but if Cassian really expects to keep disrupting my plans with Nyx, the least he could do is make me a smoothie.”

Nyx babbles in your arms, and you look into his violet eyes, the same color as Rhys’s, but they held the same twinkle to them as Feyre’s eyes, “yes, that’s right. I’m right.”

You all get in line, five fae in line ahead of you. Azriel unwraps the scarf from around Nyx, the warmth of the bakery causing him to want to be out of the confines of the fabric.

“But if you woke up a little earlier, you could make one yourself without Nyx there to watch over.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You ask, your finger tickling Nyx’s side to get him to giggle with you.

Azriel rolls his eyes at your obvious tactics to get the toddler to agree with you, but he can’t help the soft smile he has as Nyx giggles at your poking and flaps his tiny wings.

The older female in front of the two of you turns and gasps at Nyx, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

“Well, if this isn’t the cutest babe in all of Prythian.” Her face lights up as Nyx flaps his wings harder at the attention he’s getting, hiding his face in your shoulder, hiding his big grin.

“He’s just darling, you two must be thrilled to have such a sweet babe.”

“Oh we’re not-“ Before you can disagree with her, Nyx has made his own decision.

“Mama!” He calls to you, putting his chubby little hands on your face, squishing your cheeks together. You move one of your hands back towards Azriel’s stomach, stopping him from speaking further, deciding to just roll with it.

You crinkle your eyes, “He’s just darling, isn’t he?”

Nyx gives you a toothless grin, and you shoot him a look he mistakes for pure affection, preening under your withering gaze. It is nearly impossible to stay mad at him, his chubby cheeks the ultimate ‘I can do no wrong’.

“How old is he?” You pale, having a hard time keeping track of Nyx’s age. You dig through your mind, trying to remember when Nyx was born. Azriel answers much quicker than your brain could. “He’s fourteen months old.” The female squeals at Azriel’s words, the shadowsinger slightly wincing.

“Wow, what a great age! My boys were little monsters by then, each of them would love walking around at night, they’d always manage to escape their cribs somehow. I can’t imagine how I’d deal with one of them with wings!” She continues, her eyes lit up talking about her kids when they were young. You find it incredibly sweet, until she continues on and on until it’s her turn to order.

Her back to you both, you turn toward Azriel, widening your eyes slightly and looking at her. He shrugs, a soft “what can you do” coming from him. After she orders, the two of you step up, ordering your sandwiches and something sweet for Nyx. The woman gets her sandwich right after you pay, telling you, “it was nice to speak to you - you and your family are beautiful.”

Nodding and smiling, the two of you find a table and sit, Nyx still in your arms. You lightly kick Azriel’s foot underneath the table. “Thanks for paying.”

He sips his coffee, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t want her to think I was a poor father.”

You laugh, the sound causing Nyx to laugh too. The light hit the pair of you, giving the two of you a sort of glow. If Azriel squinted, he could feel the edges of fantasy grasp hold of the image - you holding a winged babe, laughing at something he had said. He wished he had some way to capture this moment, knowing he would return to it over and over in his mind when he couldn’t sleep. He smiled, unable to keep your joy from infecting him. 

One bed

“That’s not funny,” Cassian pouts, looking to you for support. You shrug, taking a sip of your wine to avoid speaking, opting to look towards the portraits on the wall rather than meet his gaze.

“You’re right - it’s hilarious,” Feyre responds, looking at her mate, seeing the comparison. “The last female you hooked up with looked just like Rhys.”

“She did not!” Cassian bellows, slamming his hand on the table. All of you howl in laughter, the revelation of Cassian’s recent hook up bearing quite the resemblance to his brother an endless source of amusement.

Cassian, Mor, Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and yourself were all nestled into the dining room of the townhouse. The fae light in the room produces an incandescence that provides a stark contrast to the brutal snow storm outside.

You’re all trapped here, none of you brave enough to step far enough outside of the wards to winnow away. The six of you piled into the townhouse earlier in the evening, where you lovingly made a three course meal. It was a monthly tradition - you liked getting everyone together, you loved cooking for your friends, and they loved eating your food. It was a win all around. 

Dinner was just starting to be served when the snowfall took a turn for the worst, coming down in massive heaps of white. 

“Good thing we have a feast right here - I was starting to eye Azriel’s legs.”

Mor rolls her eyes at Cassian, “you were eyeing his legs because you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.”

Cassian smirks at her, a charming grin many females have fallen victim to. “You’re just upset it wasn’t your legs I was looking at.”

“Can we stop discussing my legs?” Azriel grumbles, passing the bowl of mixed vegetables to you. You nod in thanks, scooping a serving for yourself. “At least they’re being kind to you - last week Cassian was making fun of my arms.”

You pout your lip dramatically, but Azriel ignores it, his scowl still on his brother. “I wouldn’t call being the first to be eaten a kindness.”

“It’s not my fault you have short arms. How do you reach anything?” Cassian’s mouth was somehow already full of food, despite one of the platters just making its way to him.

“I believe she reaches things by scaling countertops and climbing shelves,” Rhys adds, plating himself some dumplings before serving some to Feyre’s plate.

“Hey! We were not talking about me, we were discussing Azriel’s delicious thighs!”

“He didn’t specify thigh.” Rhys points out, his fork pointing toward you.

“Oh, but I meant his thighs.” Cassian chimes in, his arm outstretched for another serving of potatoes.

“I’d start with his arms - he has a lot of meat on his bicep.” Mor doesn’t look up from her plate as she states it so casually.

“This conversation has taken a turn for the worse,” Azriel mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. You rub his arm soothingly, and he softens a bit at the feel of your touch.

Until you start squeezing the muscle beneath your hand. He immediately glances at you from the side of his eye, a stony and cold look.

“Flex for me, please.”

“I will not indulge this!” He starts trying to pull his arm away, but your fingers are surprisingly strong.

“Hmmm,” you hum, your hands still wrapped around his bicep, squeezing as you contemplate. “They’re a decent contender, but my vote is the thigh.”

“Not you too!”

You squeeze his arm lightly, “I’m sorry, this is a worst case scenario! I promise I’ll only eat you if you were already dead from like a freak accident.”

“What are our thoughts on someone being run through with my sword as a freak accident?” Cassian muses, licking his fingers dramatically. Azriel scowls at him as everyone around the table giggles.

Azriel turns back to you, “you only picked my legs because you wouldn’t be able to reach my arms.”

You drop your hands from his bicep, mock exasperation on your face. “How dare you! I was complimenting you. Being able to feed a family from your lifeless body is a compliment!”

“I can think of many families more deserving of my meat than you lot.”

He huffs, rotating his body to look at his brother before adding, “don’t you dare, Cassian.” 

Cassian scoffs at the finger pointed in his direction. “You’re the one who said you can feed a village with your cock.”

“That is not what I said! And it was a family, not a village.”

“Whatever.”

The two keep bickering until Cassian throws a green bean at Azriel, who quickly moves his head. A shadow comes and quickly pushes the leftover food on Cassian’s plate into his lap in retaliation.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Rhys looks equal parts amused and equal parts annoyed, likely at the mess that was made of his chair lining. He looks towards the window, the snow coming down even heavier than before. He sighs.

“I’m assuming we’ll all be staying here tonight?”

Everyone nods, no one wanting to brave the cold, wet snow. Not even Cassian or Azriel volunteer to leave, their bodies tailor made for this kind of weather.

“Right,” he nods, looking at Feyre. “Feyre and I will stay in the big room. You two,” he points to you and Azriel, “can stay in the room with the mirrors. You two,” now pointing to Cassian and Mor, “can stay in the room with some of Feyre’s paintings.”

Your heart picks up, its beat erratic and echoing through your ears. This would hardly be the first time you and Azriel shared a bed, but each time turned you into a bundle of nerves. You spent the entire night doubting each movement you made, uncertain if you were making Azriel uncomfortable until your brain eventually shut down, allowing for sleep to overtake you. 

Every time your worry was for nothing - each night full of nerves brought forth a morning of tangled limbs and warm cuddling. Waking up in his arms did nothing but cause your feelings for Azriel to soar, spending several extra minutes in bed pretending to be asleep, trying to imprint the feel of his arm around your waist to memory.

“No,” Cassian bellows, “she has that painting of Bryaxis in there. Creeps me out. I won’t be able to sleep.”

Rhys breathes through his nose, uncertain when becoming High Lord meant delegating his friend’s fears. “Put it in the closet.”

“I’ll know it’s there.”

“Fine, we’ll take the painting out of there.”

“Maybe Cassian will be who we eat if a simple painting puts him on edge this much.” You whisper conspiratorially, Azriel making a soft hum in acknowledgment. If he can hear the loud beating of your heart, he doesn’t let on. 

You look at him, his face not giving any apprehension away. It was hard not to fall further for Azriel with each look he gave you, each night you two shared a bed just sinking you deeper and deeper into your feelings.

He is beautiful, a detail impossible for anyone to ignore. You have heard countless fae mention it over the years. Most of them only see him from a distance - the cold, mysterious front Azriel wanted the world to see him as. But you have the privilege of seeing him up close, getting to take in every small detail about him.

The exact angle of his nose, how his jawline curves. How his shadows move languidly around his face, almost wanting you to pay attention to his eyes. You’re certain you could draw an exact replica of how his tattoos litter his chest, the design close to Cassian’s, but not quite the same. Azriel’s tattoos were looser, as if his shadows acted as stencils when the tattoos were made. 

You can even tell when his hair gets to the length he finds too long, the black curls getting into his face, his shadows sweeping the hair off his forehead when he trains.

You treat knowing him as if you’re a scholar writing an encyclopedia of Azriel, needing to know every little thing about him.

The weather doesn’t leave much lingering, everyone turning in quickly, seeking solace under a warm comforter. You follow behind Azriel, making your way to the room allocated to the two of you.

‘Room with the mirrors’ was an understatement. Mirrors of all sizes surround the both of you - more with ornate frames, intricately carved figures and plants decorating each one. One mirror even had detailed Illyrian wings on the bottom. You could see yourself and Azriel from every angle, every movement meant for observation.

“Why do they have so many mirrors in here?” 

Azriel’s eyes sweep across the room, counting at least two dozen mirrors. He knew exactly what Rhys used them for. It was impossible to know the High Lord for centuries and not know his bedroom preferences. “Do you really wish to know?”

Shivers go down your spine at his whispering voice. You have the whole room to yourselves, but his proximity is difficult to handle knowing exactly how Rhys and Feyre use this room. 

“It’s obviously because Rhys tries out mirrors until one shows him a flaw.” You watch Azriel grimace through a reflection.

“They’re a bit unnerving.” Several of his shadows dance around the mirrors, almost watching themselves as they slither and writhe. They are putting on quite the show, causing you to nearly miss Azriel’s statement.

“I guess.” You shrug, not really caring too much. In truth, you like the mirrors. It meant there was nowhere for Azriel to hide from you in here. 

A shiver ran up at the thought that you couldn’t hide either. 

A room of truths and being seen.

“I could just winnow back home.” You startle from your thoughts, Azriel’s tight lips and tense shoulders giving away just how uncomfortable he is. Is it your shared company? Or is it the thought of staying in his brother’s spare sex room that’s putting him on such edge?

“But that’s not fun. Besides, you can’t leave me here with Cassian. He’s already disaster planning. I need someone to protect me.” You sit down on a settee, unlacing your shoes. A small part of you doesn’t want Azriel to leave, hoping if you get comfortable, it’ll help him relax. 

An even smaller part doesn’t want to recognize how large that part actually is. You don’t want to be left alone tonight, and you certainly don’t want to have to explore exactly why his absence has such an effect on you.

“You were saying I’m dinner earlier and now I’m your protector. Which is it?” His wings are loosening their stiff hold and from the corner of your eye you see a few shadows nestle beneath the duvet.

“Whichever suits my needs. And tonight I need you to protect me from Cassian.”

Azriel shakes his head, unable to keep the smile off his face as he sits next to you, unlacing his own boots. He nearly takes up half the settee, but you don’t mind as his wing gently drapes around you. He places them neatly next to yours, the domesticity of it lingering in your mind. 

Shoes at the end of the bed, getting ready for bed.

Romance in its simplest form: routine.

He’s gone much too quickly for your liking, his hands quick as he searches drawers for some kind of nightwear. A few shadows help him in his search, pulling out various folds of silk and lace.

“Would you prefer a shirt or one of Feyre’s nightgowns?”

You’d prefer a nightgown, but knowing Feyre’s taste in clothes you know it’d likely leave little to the imagination. Azriel’s already a bit hesitant to stay, and you don’t want to push him further away. 

“Shirt, please.”

You thought he was offering you one of Rhys’s shirts from the drawers, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he unbuttons the front of his shirt, his shadows undoing the ties at the back, before the dark wisps carry the shirt over to you. He’s half turned away from you as he digs through the drawers, but you can still make out the contours of his body, the muscles in his arms moving with him.

You thank the shadows for their help, slipping away to the attached bathroom to change and get ready for bed. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed, but it feels different. More serious somehow. You slip into Azriel’s shirt, the fabric practically melting onto your skin. 

It smells divine. You want to just drown in the fabric here and now.

Instead you go back into the room, finding Azriel in comfortable sleep pants. 

He turns his back to you, doing a sweep of the room to ensure every crevice is shut and locked. When he turns, you can’t help the squeal that leaves your lips at the sight of the words printed on the rear of the pants. 

Azriel looks back around at you, only to find you pointing and giggling where his ass had been a few seconds before.

“Your pants say juicy!” Sure enough, the purple plush pants had the word ‘juicy’ in rhinestones and all capital letters. “No wonder Cassian wants to eat you, you’re practically advertising it!”

Your laughs are practically bouncing off the mirrors, Azriel’s body surrounded by your joy. He wants to be annoyed at these ridiculous pants Rhys clearly wears, but as your laughs continue, his annoyance is all an act. He tries his best to keep a neutral expression, but he’s certain some forlorn look of longing is in its place.

“Ha ha, very funny. Can we go to bed?” You’re still a ball of giggles as you make your way to the bed, awkwardly shuffling, a bit unsure. This part is always confusing and awkward - the two of you shuffling, waiting to see what the other would do. 

Azriel is well-versed in loving from a distance. He was convinced for so long that if Mor only saw him, acknowledged him, it’d be enough. And then he met you. And Mor became nothing more than she had always been - his friend. 

Tonight. Tonight he would not love you from a distance. His legs carried him to the bed, taking the initiative as his wings spread out against the mattress. He pulls back your side of the duvet, his hand patting the bed. An invitation.

Your cheeks turn a shade of red he wanted to paint the walls with. He could see himself in the mirror behind you, one of his wings twitching in delight that he found himself attractive.

Maybe just being in your gaze did that to him - opened him up to see who he could be. Maybe your gaze made him preen like a male bird, putting his best self on display. Or maybe it was the tattoos of his chest on full display, his sweatpants hidden beneath the duvet already.

“Are you going to hog the blankets?” Your words come out a bit shaky, trying to shift your focus from his warm body as you get in next to him. His wing curls back up, tucking in close to his body to make room for you. You shimmy into bed, pulling the duvet back over your body. For several minutes you lay there, practically stock still trying to avoid moving or disturbing Azriel, until he twitches lightly. You turn and notice his pinched brows, trying to hide the discomfort from his furled wings.

“I could- sleep on top of you? So you can spread out your wings? I just want you to be comfortable.” You add hastily, turning on your side to see him better. The bed was large enough for Illyrian wings, but you’re lying right in the middle of the bed, making it impossible for his wings to stretch out.

He’s silent, clearly thinking you’re question over. He’s taking longer than you expected, hesitance in your words as you speak again.

“Or I could sleep on the floor.” Your last word comes out as a gasp, his fingers quickly wrapping around your hips, pulling you on top of him. One of his hands moves around your head, tucking you into his chest. The other moves to your back, his fingers rubbing soothing strokes down your spine as he adjusts to be laying right in the middle of the bed. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” His fingers keep moving, not stopping their soothing patterns. His wings drop dramatically onto the bed, practically yelling at you to accept the space you gave away to them.

“Somehow, I think I’ll survive.” You let out a breath, finally letting yourself relax and breathe normally again. You burrow your face in his chest, the piney scent of him making your eyes droop. His fingers are soothing against your skin, each movement gently guiding you closer and closer to sleep. 

“Now if Cassian comes looking for a midnight snack he’ll have to get through you first.” You pinch his side, a squeak hitting your ear as a shadow pulls your hand away.

Blind dates and nosey friends

Your hands tear the bread in half once again as you see the waitress heading straight toward you. An awkward smile is on her face as she approaches your table. 

“Miss, are you ready to order?” You sigh through your nose, shredding the roll in your hands. She is just doing her job, you don’t have to take your frustrations on this male out on your server. You start to ask for a menu, when out of the corner of your eye you see large wings you would know anywhere. The shadow that branches off from him, heading in a direct path to you, is the confirmation it was him. 

“One moment, please.” You don’t wait for her response before practically sprinting over, grabbing the shadowsinger’s arm before even thinking about it. He jerks his arm back, a scowl on his face before he realizes who it is. 

Azriel’s defensive stance slackens as he takes you in, his eyes lingering long enough on your dress that heat creeps up your chest. A few shadows start curling around your bare legs.

“What are you doing here, Az?” His eyes finally look back up at your face, something hidden deep in his gaze.

“I was supposed to meet someone, but they never showed.” Your stomach falls at his words, the hypocrisy impossible to ignore. He was supposed to be on a date? But they didn’t show up? 

You take the chance to look at him, his usual leathers exchanged for more formal wear. An all black tunic that shows a glimpse of his chest. It is a gorgeous fabric - a deep black with dark blue embroidery along the edges. His clothes are looser than his leathers, but they still show off his chiseled body.

You were a fool to not take in the back of the outfit when you had the chance earlier, certain he fills out the seat of his pants quite nicely.

Whoever didn’t show up for Azriel was a fool. Your jealousy at that fact is undeterred by remembering you are also supposed to be on a date right now.

“Same here.” Your date not showing up didn’t bother you too much. You were disappointed by how highly Feyre spoke of him, but you hadn’t been too thrilled to be going out anyway. 

“Are you hungry?” Azriel gives you a bewildered look, and you cross your arms feeling so exposed before him. You gesture to the table behind you, hoping Azriel will pick up the hint.

He just continues looking at you blankly.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? I have a table, and the waitress certainly thinks I made up having a guest to eat with.”

He looks down at your outfit once again, goosebumps trailing where his eyes land. Just because you hadn’t been thrilled to come didn’t mean you took picking out your outfit lightly.

“It would be an honor.” He follows you to your table, long legs making it to your chair before you do. He pulls your chair out, helping you sit before he takes his own seat.

“Who were you meeting tonight?” His voice is low, nearly a growl as he asks the question. Before you can answer, your waitress comes back, two menus in her arms. You thank her as she hands them to you both.

“A nice merlot, please.” Az holds up two gloved fingers to her, wanting the same. 

“Feyre wanted to set me up with some male from the Rainbow. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” His eyebrows pinch together, a shadow curling his ear conspicuously before his face softens.

“And he didn’t show up?”

You shake your head, not wanting to voice the disappointment at being stood up. You weren’t giddy about the date, but it still stings of rejection.

“His loss.” Azriel is so sincere as he says it, his face opening in a way that only really happens when you’re alone with him. “Truly.”

You open your menu, unable to linger in his sincerity. “Maybe he was the great love of my life and now I’ll never have that.”

“I truly doubt that.”

The waitress comes back with two glasses of red wine and a fresh basket of breadsticks that she places between you two before heading off again.

“What are you doing here - who were you meeting?”

“Cassian’s been trying to get me to go out with him more. I got tired of waiting for him.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, he probably got caught up with Nesta and I’d rather not smell them in a public restaurant.” Azriel grimaces, and you remember him telling you last week about finding them on the training grounds and immediately turning around.

“So, did Feyre tell you anything about this guy?” You look up from your menu, a bit confused at him circling the conversation back to a male you’ve never met.

“Not really. Just said he’s good looking and a nice male.” You shrugged, reaching for a breadstick to tear apart, giving your hands something to do.

“She didn’t give you a name?”

You think for a moment, replaying the odd memory over again. How Feyre had come into the room, a crazed look about her as she asked if you had any plans this evening. Details of the restaurant reservation flying from her lips, getting a promise that you'd be there before she ran off again.

“No.” You pop some bread into your mouth, finally able to enjoy the softness of it now that you have Azriel looking at you instead of the waitress.

“Do you always go out with nameless males?”

You stop chewing and throw your balled up straw wrapper at him. A shadow catches it before it can hit his face, a smirk taking root, brightening his face. He looks so boyish, so smug. 

It was one of your favorite faces he wore.

The shadow throws the wad at Azriel’s face anyway, leaving him speechless at the defiance. You try to stifle your giggles, your hand hardly stopping the sound as you watch the shadows around him also appear to be laughing.

“It’s not funny.” Azriel tries to slip his face back into the cool neutrality he wears so well, but it’s nearly impossible as your giggles grow. You have to look away, the absurdity of the evening making you want to laugh harder.

A few fae turn their heads to look at the pair of you, quickly averting their gaze once they see who you were seated with. Your laughter dies down, and you know Azriel won’t let the topic die until you give him all the answers he desires.

“No. I hardly ever go out with males.” Azriel stops his teasing, his whole body going still as if movement could impair his hearing. Even his shadows stay still, watching and waiting over his shoulder. 

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve only been out a handful of times the past few years, none of them were right.” It’s the truth. Each date felt like a chore, ill-fitting shoes that never quite gave you what you needed. Mor had he annual attempt at setting you up, but you were quite happy to have a quiet love life for the time being. You’re much happier spending your free time with your friends, on your work, or with Nyx than with random males to learn their favorite colors and what they did for a living.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you been seeing anyone?”

“No.” His reply is curt, clearly not wanting to further the discussion. His eyes are cold, the gold not shining how they usually do when he speaks to you.

“Okay.” You’re at a bit of a loss for what to say. Conversation between the two of you is usually so easy.

But the two of you never discuss your love lives with each other. How could you talk about some male to Azriel without saying well he’s not as kind or as attentive as you?

“Come on, Az. Take a breadstick. It won’t kill you.”

You shake the basket at him, trying to get him to splurge a little. His rigorous diet is well known amongst your friends, teasing comments accompanied most meals about Azriel’s strict dietary choices.

That’s all it is when you say it - a deflection, a joke to ease the slight awkwardness that accompanies your question. To your utter delight, he picks one up, taking small bites, savoring each taste. 

It’s nearly sinful how he eats it.

Once it’s gone, he pats around his chest, looking around the room.

“Look at that.”

“What?”

“I am still alive.”

“Oh shut up.”

“All these years, I thought bread would kill me.”

You roll your eyes at him, picking the menu up to finally look over what you want for dinner.

Who did this to you?

It’s easy to forget Mor is first and foremost a warrior. Her chosen wardrobe is curated to draw attention to her other assets, but her muscles still shine.

“Ow.” Mor’s hand is quick as she jostles your face, clutching your jaw tight. Her grip gives away her true strength - focusing all of it on your face. 

You pity anyone who comes in her way on a battlefield.

“Hold still.”

“I’m trying, you’re hurting me.”

“Shush. You’re fine.” 

A lone shadow creeps through the crack beneath the door, making its way over to you. It slinks through the shadows of the room, slithering from the shadow of the bed to the shadows beneath the dresser. 

You notice it halfway through its journey, but Mor remains ignorant. It moves up your leg, gently swirling your hand in comfort. It works almost instantly, the cool touch of it enough to distract you from Mor’s ministrations.

For a moment you almost forgot where you were.

“Ow!” It comes out louder than you intend, scaring off the shadow. The disappointment of losing your shadow friend took your mind off the pain momentarily before scowling at your friend again.

“Are you sure you don’t want Madja?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop complaining.”

You groan, unable to stop yourself despite Mor’s withering look. You suck in a breath through your teeth, nearly biting your tongue as she continues stitching your face.

“What are you doing?” You didn’t hear Azriel come in, didn’t hear a sound from him. But now he’s impossible to ignore. His shadows swarm you, their soft caresses welcome and wanted. They brush against any open skin they can, a few tickling against the open wound on your face. A few find the bruises littering your legs and hips, their cool caress not stinging like pressure would.

Mor merely rolls her eyes at him, annoyance flickering in her brown eyes as she looks to him. “I’m playing healer because I thought it would be fun, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Several of the shadows leave you, circling around Azriel’s ears conspiratorially. His wings flare out, almost casting a wall between you and the rest of the world. One of the shadows tries to swat Mor away, a huff of annoyance leaving her.

Azriel has been different ever since your dinner together. The two of you are spending more time together than ever - now you see him at most meals, he gives you his weekly schedule and warns you whenever he’ll be gone, and the two of you always slink off and spend the evenings together.

It’s been strange lately.

Despite the shadows whispers, his scowl only deepens. His eyes assess your face, scanning for every injury. Hazel eyes go straight to the bruise covered by your shirt, as if he can see beneath the fabric to the purple skin beneath. Azriel’s face tightens, disapproval clearly evident.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” His voice is deeper, some deep anger taking over his face.

Mor is quick to step in, to calm the shadows that are swirling around you, making it difficult for her to continue her stitching.

“Calm down, she fell down the stairs.” 

His breathing starts slowing again. Catching Mor’s eye, she tries not to laugh at the intense display. She even mouths his words back to you, an impish look on her face before she focuses again on your cheek, purposefully ignoring the Illyrian practically breathing down her neck.

You try to laugh but wince as she brings up the needle to your cheek, threading it through skin, slowly closing the wound. An intake of air gives away your true discomfort, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“You’re being too harsh.” Mor groans at Azriel’s admonishment before reaching for his hand, gently handing over the needle to him before standing. She dusts off her dress before getting to her full height. Azriel bends down, trying to keep the needle from pulling too far, allowing Mor to slightly tower over him.

“If my stitching isn’t up to your standard, you may finish it.” She huffs, waiting for his response. Hands meet her hips waiting until he concedes, nodding silently. She’s quick to turn on her heel, muttering about overprotective males before shutting the door behind her.

“She should have taken you to Madja.” Azriel clicks his tongue as if Mor could hear his complaints through the wall. His shadows seem to nod in agreement poking out over his shoulder before making their way back to you. 

“I didn’t want to go to Madja.”

“Why not?” 

It took a moment to find the words, to vocalize it out loud. It was silly - your arms were full, trying to carry too much at once. Foolishly you thought the stairs were a few feet away, missing the top step and falling face down the stairs. 

You had hit the walls with each tumble, causing a loud enough raucous to startle Mor, who immediately helped you up and fussed over you.

“I was embarrassed.” Your arms cross over your chest, trying to hide into yourself. Azriel gently cups your face in his hand, bringing the threaded needle back up. You wince, shutting your eyes tight to avoid seeing it. 

Azriel was right - Mor had been a bit rough in her stitching, but not enough for you to say anything. 

His thumb gently strokes your cheek, the delicacy enough to have you slowly crack open an eye only to find him looking right back at you.

“Why were you embarrassed?” His voice is softer now, less amusement as he holds your gaze. His gaze is strong, impossible to turn or hide away from. 

Maybe that’s why you open up completely, the cowardly parts of you on full display.

“I didn’t want to bother Madja with something I got because I tripped over my own feet.” You watch his face, waiting for him to understand how silly this situation is and to drop it completely. To continue his stitching and leave you with a bruised ego.

That understanding never comes, his face nearly shriveling in confusion.

“I’ve watched Cassian go to Madja for paper cuts.” 

“Yes, but-“

“Do you think Cassian’s pain is more deserving of healing?” Azriel is quick to cut you off, his words fast to stop the shame spiral you were gearing up to begin. His gaze is hard and unflinching, pinning you in place. 

Truth-Teller isn’t a weapon, it’s a title you feel he deserves. One look from him unspooling all of your secrets.

“It’s different.” Your shoulders slump a bit, finding it hard to find the right words for how you feel. Embarrassing is the best one, but it still feels light. 

“How?”

“I’m not… fighting the good fight. I’m not a warrior.” A few shadows wrap around your shoulders in a comforting embrace, almost as if they are holding you up. “Cassian deserves to be babied a bit when he’s constantly throwing himself into danger.”

A more cross look overcomes his features, a hint of agitation lingering.

“I didn’t realize civilians didn’t have healers.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then tell me what you mean.”

“Madja has more important things than tending to my falling down the stairs.” 

“I think you’re right. She does have better things to do.” You blink. You’ve never heard Azriel concede in an argument so easily. You’ve watched him argue with Cassian until he was blue in the face just to win.

“But I don’t. So if you’re done…” he trails off, his hand that holds the needle going a bit higher to get into your eyeline. A reminder to both of you that he needs to finish the job Mor started.

You nod, accepting his kindness. The fight eases out of you, slowly leeching from your pores, unable to stand against the softness in his face. Your eyes close more gently this time, the weight of the shadows easing your nerves a bit.

“Just don’t tell me when you’re going to do it, please.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He rubs his thumb along the scar, not applying any pressure. You lean into his touch, unable to stop yourself. The stitch Mor made prickles a bit, but the two of you continue to sit there in a calming silence. Both of his hands now cradle your cheeks, his large palms so comforting you nearly muzzle into them. 

“Azriel, are you ever going to stitch up my face?”

“I’m already done.” 

Your eyes relax, blinking at him. You bring a hand up to your face, touching where the long gash was to find it stitched. 

“I guess that tonic Mor gave me did stop the feeling. Thanks, Az.”

One of his hands gently grabs yours, pulling it from your cheek. He holds it delicately in his own, his thumb swiping across the back of it.

“Stop messing with it. You’ll undo my hard work.” 

“It’s like picking at a scab.”

“Don’t do that either.”

Friends to lovers

A fire crackles in the library, casting a warm glow over the room. Of all the libraries in Night, none of them compare to the one nestled in the Townhouse. It’s smaller than the others, allowing for a more quaint and cozy feel.

The shelves are a bit haphazard, you and Azriel using it as a personal library most of the time. Most books continue notes in the margins from either or both of you - quick scrawl to dictate something for the other or something one of you enjoyed.

The Townhouse is where the two of you spend most of your time - the tighter quarters being enough space for the two of you.

The last few weeks were a blur of Azriel - spending most nights in each other’s beds, 

A blanket’s folded behind your head. You’re tempted to cover your legs with it, but you lean a bit closer into Azriel instead. You are practically draped against his lap, your torso half over his body, a book perched in your hands. He’s using your back as a rest for his book, one hand woven in your hair, the other one making circles in your lower back. 

His shadows flip his pages for him, allowing his hands to lazily wander on their own. It was so domestic and easy, each movement a thrill.

You’re trying to read your book, but if Azriel even asked what it was about you wouldn’t be able to answer. An earlier conversation with Cassian keeps replaying in your mind over and over again, each return to it an attempt to further your resolve.

“Going so soon?” Nesta had pouted, her gray eyes turning pitiful trying to get you to stay longer. “I’ve hardly seen you the past few weeks.”

You started to answer, telling her you hadn’t become that unavailable, when Cassian’s voice boomed through the living room.

“She has to get back to her boyfriend, Nes. He’ll be upset if she’s gone too long. He’ll get broody.”

You had scoffed, nearly jumping at his voice.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know who I’m talking about? I didn’t say a name.” Cassian came into the room now, amusement on his face as he wiped his hands with a dish rag. 

“Shut up, Cass.”

“He’s not her boyfriend.” Nesta spoke up from the couch. 

“Thank you!”

“You just spend every minute with him, you reek of his scent, and you’re always considering what to do next for him.”

Cassian rounded the couch, plopping down next to Nesta.

“You're his girlfriend without the title.”

“Am not.”

“You sleep in his bed.”

“Not every night.”

Nesta and Cassian looked at each other before turning back to you, almost in unison saying, “or he sleeps in your bed.”

Heat began creeping up your neck, your emotions feeling so violated. You knew the two of you had been close, but was it really so obvious to Cassian of all people?

 “Fine, if you two aren’t dating, I’m sure you won’t mind in two years when Azriel’s dating someone else.”

The words clank through your mind like a dropped bell, the same notes hitting over and over again. Someone else.

“Az?” His name comes out as a whisper, your fear only half wanting him to hear you, the other half begging to be heard.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up, his attention still mostly on his book as he tries to finish the paragraph he’s reading.

“Are we dating?”

Azriel looks away from his book, looking down at you in his lap. Even his shadows drop the book onto your back, their attention moving toward their master’s response. He takes a moment, clearly thinking over your question, giving you his full attention. You turn slightly, angling your body to fully see him.

“I suppose we are.” He answers you so nonchalantly, as if this was a well known fact. You sit up now, taking the spot next to him, your book falling off the couch but you don’t care enough to even look at it. His book falls as well, a soft thump onto the carpet. 

“Are you… happy about it?” A million questions race through your mind, but that’s what comes out first. His hands had followed you as you moved, one of them still resting on your hip, lazily dragging his thumb in languid strokes.

“Delighted.” You take the moment to really look at Azriel, his face mere inches from your own. You hadn’t noticed the gradual change over the weeks, but sitting here now, it is impossible to ignore. His face is brighter, eye bags having shrunk to a regular size. He’s been smiling more, a few laugh lines making their ways onto his cheeks. 

Even his clothes are different - looser, more casual attire covered his body, his leathers getting worn only for training and official duties.

Azriel looks like Azriel. Not the spymaster, not the shadowsinger. Not a thing of legend.

But the male you love.

Your hand reaches out, softly cupping his jaw. Your other hand pushes some of his hair off his forehead, the soft curls bouncing back into place after the attempt to tame them. The smile on his face matches your own: full of possibility, love, and hope. A shadow glides across your lips before moving across your whole face, as if imprinting this moment to their memory.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Your mouth is splitting your face in two, too large to contain your smile to just your lips, it reaches the corners of your eyes.

“Once your questions end, I would like to.”

“Do you love me?”

“So much.” You feel how much he does in his gaze, in his hands, in his words. Everything about him - every interaction, every touch, every moment, it all led you here. You’re grateful for every moment of it as his hands gently pull your face to his, his lips warm and gentle as they meld into yours.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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