#hes always just been able to go into the drift with people he cared about and he doesnt need to say shit to anyone else
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moony-noo · 1 day ago
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reader x modern au! shikanoin heizou
hey so, i’m not dead⁉️ shocking, i know… This one’s not very long I think, but I really enjoyed writing it. tbh, Heizou definitely is my type of man if he ever existed irl… pls exist? i need u in my life??? anyways…. hope you’ll enjoy! the end feels a bit rushed, ik and im sorryyyy… but idk when I’ll be able to post again so I really wanted to share this one for now.
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Best-friend... right?
Heizou and you have been friends— no. Heizou and you have been best friends, since you were children. None of you could explain why and how it clicked between the two of you, but it definitely did.
For different matters, help, requests, that Inazuman people would have for one of you, they wouldn’t just call Heizou or Y/n, but always “Heizou and Y/n”. Which made no sense, right? You were merely a citizen here, working to make enough money to live properly under a roof; while Heizou was none other than the incredible Doushin at the Tenryou Commission— a prodigy detective as he likes to name himself. So, naturally, it was usual that people would seek for him when something happened. Yet, the auburn-haired man had lost count of how many times the elders would say “Where is Y/n?” ; “Isn’t she with you?” ; “You guys always are together”; when he was on a mission. And how many times he had to remind them that the two of you weren’t children anymore. You both had a job, a schedule that made it practically impossible to see each other as much as you used to.
But as beautiful as life— or your friendship, could be, even if your time together had been drastically reduced in the past few years, when you could finally share a moment just you two, it was clear that distance had not managed to change anything in your relationship— as a matter of fact, it only strengthened your bond. Like when you miss your lover so much, and you see them back again after a long time, the kiss you’d share would hold much heavier love than it would’ve before. You felt like it could describe your situation perfectly— but for best friends, of course!
When he would surprise you after a long mission by waiting for you in your house, on the sofa with your favorite snacks on the table; such a thoughtful best friend, right?
Or when you’d prepare the perfect dinner for him when he had told you his day was going to be really hard and tiring earlier in the morning. He’d come back home with lights warming his living room and his favorite meals carefully disposed all around the table. You were such an amazing best friend… right?
But not as amazing as his hugs! Heizou always had been there for you no matter what, and when you were feeling down, even if it wasn’t planned in the first place, he’d visit your house, and you guys would have a long and deep conversation. Then, Heizou would hold you tightly in his arms, his thumbs delicately rubbing your back. He was such… a caring best friend… right?
A best friend…
Best… friend…?
Somehow, these two words didn’t sound great in your head anymore.
Because would best friends really do this? When you’d kiss his cheeks to get his attention back on you while his mind was slightly drifting away, would this gesture still represent the label of “friendship” that you both created?
When he’d delicately hold your chin to make you look deep into his beautiful green eyes. While his mouth would express word that held so much emotions in not only the way they were aligned next to each other as he said them out loud, but also the tone that his voice would perfectly perform; and you’d get lost into his intense stare; would you still consider your feelings towards him “friendship”, as the loud ponders of your heart calling his name would get heavier?
When he’d ramble about something for five minutes straight, but your eyes would only notice how his lips would curled up at every vowels, pinch at some consonants, and your mind would scream at you; saying how amazing they probably tasted; how pleasant they probably would feel against yours… How slow and passionate his kisses probably were… How his fingers, so delicate, would caress your cheek, roam your body as your hands would reach his neck…
No, you were certain of it. Your best friend Shikanoin Heizou was now far gone. The man that stood before you at this moment, was someone that you so deeply desired, and knew was the one for you. Perhaps in fact, he always had been.
“Y/n…” you heard. God, how perfect your name sounded in his voice. Though this time, it felt even more intense than all the last time he called you. Not only because of the new feelings for him you had become conscious about, but also of the unspoken yet infectious desire your name held for him.
When your eyes finally snapped from his alluring lips after he said your name, you realised how close you two now were. You long had been wondering if he ever questioned your friendship and his feelings about you sometimes, but once he shared this long-awaited and hungry kiss, your warmths, and feelings finally connecting together, you were now sure of it; He, too, loved you more than just a “best friend”.
And tonight’s burning desires, your bodies colliding under the perfect moonlight were enough for the both of you to realise how you were made for each other since the very beginning.
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shame avatar (blue people) had so little cultural sway, cause perfect au for the lan sect if their headbands were like the braids and they could connect to other things/ people in gusu like that
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daytaker · 1 year ago
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The Gang React to You Falling Asleep on Them
Lucifer
*deep sigh that speaks volumes to how difficult it is for this man to get any sleep, and here you are, conked out on his shoulder...*
If you don't wake up within a few minutes, he'll have no choice but to move. He is not the sort to be so sentimental that he can't bear the thought of disturbing your precious sleeping face. Of course, he won't be an asshole about it; he'll be careful and try not to wake you up. He might even drape his jacket over you for your nap.
But only if he doesn't need it.
Mammon
"Hey, my arm's gettin' a little stiff, can I just-- ...ah."
Oh. Ah. Alright. Cool. This is happening. Hmm. Damn. Not super comfortable, and it's kinda inconvenient to be trapped here, but, pshh, what's he supposed to do, wake up a sleeping human? He's heard that can lead to...cardiac arrest, or something. He ain't gonna murder you just to move a little sooner.
You did not just start snuggling him in your sleep. Did Mammon score today or did he score today? Too bad his arm's starting to fall asleep, but, well, nothin' in life is free.
Leviathan
"What...? WHAAAAAAT?" (But only in his brain. He doesn't want to wake you up. Mammon says that can lead to cardiac arrest in humans.)
He's pretty sure he's the one who's going to keel over from heart problems at this rate. He hadn't even realized you were getting sleepy. Are you bored watching him tackle this single-player old school RPG? Did you hate it all this time and you never even mentioned it?! Why is your face so close?! Do you not have any idea the kind of mental torture you're putting him through right now?!
Deep breaths, Levi. Deep breaths. This happens in anime all the time. It's...usually a good thing! It means that the main character and their love interest are tripping all the right flags, and... and how long is this scene going to last? Those scenes almost always end with the two still on the couch, then they skip to the next day or something. How long is he going to have to just sit here... suffering...?
After about ten minutes, he's reached his limit and he gently shakes you awake. He is so embarrassed that he insists you go to bed now, and he will not take no for an answer. Good night. Goodbye. *door slams*
AAAAHHHHHHHHH.
Satan
"Hm? Have you been getting enough sleep...?"
Satan would be very pleased with the situation, though probably less intensely excited than Mammon. He'll make whatever small adjustment is necessary for his comfort, then settle in and read for as long as it takes you to wake up. He feels very warm and fuzzy. It's nice. Hopefully you do this more often. But he should really ask you about your sleep schedule. Levi must be forcing you to stay awake too often.
Asmodeus
"Aww, aren't you adorable?"
This is precious. He needs to document it. As soon as he realizes what's happening, he'll carefully pull out his D.D.D., making sure not to wake you up, and start snapping pics. A few of you, a few dozen selfies with you, a few with him pretending to be asleep too, and then a perfect shot of him kissing your forehead. Grammable as fuck.
Er... is that drool he can see in one of those photos? ...You're going to have to wake up. You can't just drool on his brand-name jacket.
Beelzebub
"Oh."
He's used to people falling asleep on him, so this doesn't really throw him for much of a loop. However, he's a bit more careful of waking you up. He knows that if he wakes Belphie, he'll just fall back asleep within a few seconds, but you're not quite so adaptable. So he'll do his best to stay quiet and not move much.
But no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to be able to turn off his stomach. You'll probably wake up with a start as his stomach roars at you about twenty inches from your face.
Belphegor
"...zzzz..."
Who are we kidding, we all know he was asleep first. Probably, he's the reason you fell asleep so easily. He's soft and warm, perfect for drifting off to dreamland...
Diavolo
"Very bold! You really are astonishingly brave."
It's not every day someone has the stones to fall asleep in his presence, let alone fall asleep and use him as some sort of glorified pillow. What a nice change of pace.
He'll continue doing whatever it is he was doing before, but he is a busy demon, running the Devildom and all. He'll slowly and carefully extricate himself when it's time to move, then have Barbatos bring you a blanket and prepare some tea for when you wake up.
Barbatos
"Humans are awfully needy creatures, aren't they."
He can't help but chuckle. You just pass out during the middle of the day? Then again, it's possible you're probably not entirely well. He'll have to disturb the young master to ask what sort of accommodations to make for you. Of course, he's sure Diavolo won't mind. But it's irresponsible to let yourself drift off like this in the castle of the king of the demons, isn't it? This isn't a resort.
Sleep well, human.
Solomon
"You're just looking cute on purpose now, aren't you?"
Oh well! Looks like he's stuck here for now. Too bad. He'll smile, put an arm around you, kick his feet up, and settle in for the long haul. Hopefully you're able to get a good, solid nap in.
Most likely, you both will. He'll pass out too within ten minutes, give or take.
Simeon
"Oh- shh. There, there."
Well, if you aren't adorable... You must be so tired. He's glad you feel so at ease with him that you let yourself fall asleep, and you certainly look cute, but he's also a little concerned that you're this tired. He'll patiently wait for you to wake up. Then he'll make you some tea and gently remind you to take better care of your health.
Luke
"Eh...?! Hey! ...WAKE UP!"
How tired are you?! You need to get better sleep! Sheesh, you need to be more careful too. You almost crushed him.
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covenofagatha · 25 days ago
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Could you write Agatha/reader where the reader discovers they have a nursing kink 🫠 The ending of chp2 of sugar&spice was so so comforting
I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind for this request, but hopefully you still like it! Thank you to everyone who voted for this, here you go!!
Nurtured Desires
When your mom's best friend who just had a baby gets caught without a pump, you take matters into your own hands to help her out.
Word count: 1900+
Warnings: nursing kink, lactation, fingering
You’ve always found your mom’s best friend, Agatha Harkness, incredibly attractive. 
But ever since she gave birth three months ago, there’s been something even hotter about her. 
Maybe it’s the way she’s always exhausted but still finds time to smile at you when she sees you. 
Maybe it’s her nurturing side on display that’s tapping into some unresolved mommy issues you have. 
Or maybe it’s the way her breasts are huge and full and she makes no effort to hide her cleavage. 
You feel like a gross guy every time you find your eyes drifting down, but who can blame you? 
You’re pretty sure Agatha has seen you staring a few times, too. But every time, she just gives you a smirk with an imperceptible shake of her head, like she’s scolding you because she knows that she should, not that she wants to.
Her kid, Nicholas, is cute enough. You don’t really know enough about babies to have an opinion, but he gurgles and giggles when he sees you sometimes. When you hold out your finger to him, he’ll grab it with his entire fist and it makes you smile. 
Your mom had been named Nicky’s godmother and you had tagged along with her to the baptism. You can still remember how it felt when Agatha had hugged you, pressing her breasts against your chest. You had been able to think of very little else during the ceremony. 
Agatha had the two of you over to her house a lot after her son was born. Your mom was all too happy to help out, as Nicky’s father was barely ever home and Agatha was exhausted. You kept the older woman company while doing homework for your college classes in the kitchen while she prepared a light snack or in the living room while she caught up on the newest episode of the show she was watching. 
But it was inevitable that Nicky would start crying and Agatha would have to take him into her bedroom to feed him. 
Is it weird that you wanted to know what it was like?
Never before had you been so transfixed by the thought of that, and you had been around several of your mom’s and older sister’s friends who had given birth. 
But everytime, when Agatha could come back out of the room, holding Nicky with her shirt unbuttoned more than it had been, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. 
There is something especially different about today. 
It’s Thanksgiving, and every year Agatha has a lunch where she invites people from the neighborhood over. Her husband has taken Nicky to his parents’ house to give her a break and it seems like she is back to her normal self.
But Agatha has decided to wear a short, tight, navy dress with a very low cut, reminding you that something was still not normal. 
You’re practically drooling over her. There are several times that someone says something to you that you don’t even hear because you’re too busy staring. 
Is she wearing a push-up bra? How are they that perky? You’ve never wanted to suck on something more. 
You physically shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. 
She is your best friend’s mom. She just had a baby. She is married. 
You repeat those sentences like a mantra as you finish helping cook the food. You’ve been tasked with making mashed potatoes, which is a pretty easy job. 
Finally the meal is ready, and while you’re setting the table with your mom and another friend of hers, you notice that Agatha is nowhere to be found. You frown and check back in the kitchen. She’s not there. 
“Mom, did Agatha go to the bathroom?” You ask, hoping she doesn't ask why you care so much. Your mom shrugs absentmindedly, too focused on balancing the plate of cranberry sauce with the bowl of casserole so she doesn’t drop either. 
You glance at the hall bathroom to find the door open. Spurred on by something, you head up the stairs, just to make sure Agatha’s alright. It’s not like her to just disappear. 
“Agatha?” You call out and you hear a muffled sound coming from her bedroom. You can hear the front door open downstairs and you assume more guests are arriving. You tentatively walk into her room, the floor creaking. 
And that’s where you find her sitting on the bed, her back to you. 
“You okay?” You ask, not really sure what’s going on or how to explain what you’re doing. 
She sniffs and turns around and your jaw falls open. 
There’s two damp spots on her chest, visible on the navy material. 
“Uh–” You have no idea what to say. 
“I’m such an idiot, I had all the nursing stuff in Nicky’s bag and it’s with my husband, and I thought I would be okay,” she mutters angrily and you walk over to where she’s sitting, as if in a trance. You think you can smell it. 
“Is there anything I can do?” You ask breathily, falling to your knees in front of her. It sounds like you’re on something and she looks at you with surprise and maybe a little of something else. 
“You want to help me?” Her eyebrow raises like she’s daring you, but you don’t back down. You nod and her lips part. You think her pupils are dilating. “I see you staring, you know. You’re not subtle.” 
You shrug shamelessly, hands coming up to rest on her bare thighs. She gasps as the touch. You think she must be so sensitive. “Let me help, please,” you beg, staring up at her. 
She holds your gaze for a second and then obliges, reaching behind her to drag the dress zipper down. Your heart stutters in your chest when the front of the dress loosens and more and more of her pale skin is revealed. She’s wearing what looks like a special kind of bra and you move to touch without even realizing. 
You cup her swollen breast and run your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. Agatha’s breath hitches and she bites her lip, eyes watching you through hooded lashes. 
“Baby,” Agatha says, silently communicating what she needs, and you pull her right breast out over the bra, sit up on your knees, and take her leaking nipple into your mouth. 
Her head falls back and you moan at the taste. It’s so warm and rich and you start suckling, just wanting to bring her some relief. 
“Fuck,” she says sharply and you feel a spark of heat grow inside you. You keep drawing out the milk and her hand comes down to grab your left one and bring it to her other breast. You scrabble with her bra and she eventually gets fed up and reaches behind her to take it off. You have to take your mouth off of her for a second and she whines at the loss of the stimulation, but you quickly make up for it by sucking her other nipple into your mouth. 
The spark has become an ache, but you’re too caught up in the taste of the older woman to care. 
You use your teeth and tug and her fingers bury into your hair, holding you close. You can hear her making small noises and you switch your mindless lapping to a slow, steady rhythm of deep sucks. She brushes your hair out of your face so she can see you better and is perfectly content to watch you like that. 
You move back to the right nipple, but play with the left with your free fingers. She whimpers when you’re particularly rough with a suck and her hips jerk. 
You freeze around her breast and meet her eyes, which are completely glazed over with lust and desire. 
“Please touch me,” she whispers, hands moving down to hike up her dress. “I need it so bad.” 
Who are you to say no? You reach up under her skirt and feel her underwear and you gasp, her nipple dropping out of your mouth. 
She is soaked. Her underwear is dripping. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle on the bed under her. You almost cum on the spot. 
You slide them to the side and push two fingers in easily, eyes widening at the feeling of her warm and wet walls clenching around you. Agatha inhales above you and drags your mouth back to her nipple. You latch on, resuming your sucking, and you start moving your fingers. You curl with every thrust, teething harder on her nipples and drinking her milk, and she bucks her hips up every time. You rub her clit with your thumb and her moans are getting louder with all the stimulation. 
“Fuck, baby, so good, so close,” she pants. You can feel her getting tighter around you and you increase the pace of your fingers, sucking rougher. 
She cums and it’s explosive. There’s a gush of milk into your mouth and the hand on her other nipple gets drenched. You fuck her through her orgasm, still sucking the remaining milk out of her, until it gets too much and she pushes you off. 
You’re both breathing hard. You can feel how sticky and wet you’ve become between your legs, but you know better than to ask Agatha for help with that now. You're not sure what this even was.
“Feel better?” You joke and she chuckles, ruffling her hair. 
“Yes, thank you, dear. You seemed like you enjoyed that.” 
Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t really know I was into that. Anytime Nicky isn’t around, just call me up.” It’s meant to be a jestful quip, but her eyes darken. 
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She muses and the blush on your face gives you away. “Okay, go back downstairs now and rejoin the party. We’ve both been gone long enough. I need to change clothes.” You start to move but she stops you. “Oh–and sweetheart?” 
You pause and look back at her. Agatha swipes her thumb across your chin and holds it up, milk droplets coating it. Before thinking, you take it into your mouth and suck, much like you had just been doing to her nipples. Her low groan excites you, but she’s right. At the very least, your mom is wondering where you were. 
“Thank you,” she says with genuine gratitude in her voice and you smile. “Now, go.” She playfully swats your shoulder to shoo you away and you bite back the urge to ask if it’ll happen again. 
You glance back when you get to the door just in time to catch a hint of her naked body and you have to force yourself out of the room so you don’t accidentally go back in for more. 
When you go downstairs, your mom immediately finds you. 
“Where have you been?” She asks. “The food is all ready, we’ve already started eating.” 
“Oh, I had to help Agatha with something.” Technically not a lie. 
She purses her lips but can’t complain. “Well, come get some food before it’s all gone.” 
There’s footsteps on the stairs and you look up to find Agatha walking down in a maroon suit and your mouth runs dry. She sees you staring – like always – and gives you a wink. 
“You know, I’m not really hungry,” you say to your mom, completely distracted by the older woman and the taste of her milk that’s still on your tongue. 
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dinogoofymutated · 8 months ago
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Hi there! I'm currently watching the original X men series to catch up to 97, and I'm in love with Gambit.
Would it be possible to ask for Remy and reader to be on a secret mission, and the Ole "make out so they don't suspect us" trope comes in, and gambit kinda (obviously) has feelings...?
It could be sfw or nsfw, either is perfect! Thank you for all that you do, I've been trying to find fics for the xmen for a while 🙏🙏
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Kinda spicy! Gambit/GN!reader
YESS!! YESSSS!!! I legit had a dream about this situation with remy the day before you sent me this ask and I was cackling in joy when I saw this! I basically hyperfixated on it because I love this trope.
TWS: sexual themes n shit, no explicit smut. As always, reader written while picturing fem! but no specific pronouns mentioned. Semi-public making out and touching. Nipples be touched but size and type of breast not mentioned.
-Ps- reader can see heat signatures for plot purposes. I usually try to keep powers ambiguous but it was a NEED!
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"In here, quick!" Remy's thick draw catches your attention, just before he yanks you into an alley. The two of you were in New Orleans, looking for a specific mutant Xavier wanted to talk to. The only downside was that Remy still had a warrant out for his arrest, and wanted posters plastered all over the city from bourbon Street to the garden district.
"Don't worry Cher. You said. NOPD 'dumber than a sack of rocks, you said!" You gripe at him. Remy laughs, tugging you around the corner. The alleyways on Burbon street are mostly private areas, owned and sealed off by the bars that line the storefronts- but Remy knew this city like the back of his hand. However, things had changed since he was here last. That became apperent when the two of you reach the end of the alleyway and there's a brand new brick wall, a dead end.
Remy curses and skids to a stop, causing you to slam into his back. You send him a dirty look as you whip around, eyes adjusting to the brick surroundings. It's hard to make out the figures of the cops through the walls of the busy bar in in front of you, too many people crowding the street for drinks even this late at night. You strain your eyes a bit, but are able to make out the stiff-shouldered men, heat signature slightly elevated from booking it after the two of you. Unfortunately, they're headed towards the mouth of the alleyway.
"Damnit." You mutter, turning back to Remy. He understands what you mean just by looking at your face. He hums, thinking for a moment before he begins to take out a playing card. You grab his arm to stop him, trying to ignore how warm his skin is against your own.
"Don't. The explosion will just lead them to us." You say. Remy nodds, glancing at the corner before suddenly caging you against the wall of the alleyway. You try not to blush as he does so. Remy smirks at you, and you think your heart might just explode. You remind yourself that this is standard Remy behavior, but it doesn't stop your face from heating up. You can only hope it's too dark for him to see you properly.
"Well, there is another way we could fool those pigs." Remy says, quieter than before. You cock an eyebrow at him before looking back over in the direction of the alleyways opening, able to spot the cops as they begin to enter. In your peripheral, you see Remy running his fingers through his hair to flatten it. You open your mouth to ask him what he has in mind, but the sound of footsteps cut you off.
"-Well, if you're going to do something, you better do it quick!" You whisper back at him. Remy pushes you further against the cold brick, his hands drifting down to your waist as he leans over to wisper in your ear.
"Trust me, Cher. I'll take care of you." His words cause goosebumps to rise at the back of your neck, and you hardly have time to react before he's kissing you. Your eyes are blown wide, heart thumping wildly as you start to slowly relax into the kiss.
Unsurprisingly, Remy is a really, really good kisser. It's hard to focus while he's touching you like this, kissing you deeply like he loves you. He nips at your lip, and you gasp, having forgotten about everything else already. His tongue darts into you mouth, caressing the skin he finds there. You let out a small moan as one of his hands drifts lower, caressing your thigh and hiking your leg up just a bit. Your own hands slowly slide up his chest, drifting to his neck.
The heat in your chest is unbearable when Gambit separates from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths before he wipes it away, nothing but affection on his eyes. You're panting for breath while he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then lower. Remy places wet kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as he tries to swallow you whole. You thread your hands through his soft hair as his does so, fully encouraging him to ravage you in whatever way he would like. One of his hands begins to slide under your shirt when a cough startles you out of your heated state.
Your first instinct is to turn towards the noise, but Gambit is quick to cup your cheek and pull you into another heated kiss before your head could move a centimeter. He keeps you occupied as his other hand fully caresses the skin beneath your shirt, squeezing and caressing your chest. You hear another exhausted sigh from the cops. You crack and eye open slightly, knowing they cant see you do so in the dark. One of them begins to raise his voice, but the other smacks him on the shoulder.
"Just another pair of drunks. We've got bigger things to worry about right now." The cop says. You could practically hear the other roll his eyes before they turn to and walk away. Gambit brings your attention back to him and only him when you feel a finger brush lightly against your nipple. You gasp, and Remy chuckles, playfully biting your lip as he pulls away. He's smirking as he looks at you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now.
"Looks like you enjoyed that." He teases, voice low and husky. You can't seem to pull your thought together properly when he's looking at you like that. You nervously look away, hands playing with his collar.
"And if I did?" You ask, glancing back at him to gage his reaction. He looks surprised at first, face morphing into a lovestruck smile before he tries to cover it up with a smirk. Didn't stop you from being able to see the heat rise to his cheeks, however.
"Then gambit thinks we should do this more often."
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enchantedflameandflower · 2 months ago
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billy teaching his girl how to smoke a cig would be so attractive
I feel like maybe they would go out to a bar or something and in like a tipsy confession she says “i’ve never smoked” or something like that ”idk how to smoke properly im always coughing its so embarrassing blah blah blah”
Need my man to guide me through it
Billy x you! Nsfw 18+ only for smoking, smut, piv, creampie, hint of exhibitionism
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Thank you SO MUCH for this ask anon! Once I got the idea for the vibe it just took off. Hope you all enjoy!
~
It’s late, almost midnight, and you’re sitting up on the roof of your apartment building with Butcher and a cold bottle of beer each. The air is a little chilly but not bad and no one else seems to ever come up here so it’s nice. You’d met Butcher at the bar but it had been crowded and annoying so you’d invited him back to your place. 
The building seems to be mostly made up of elderly people but you love it. They’re kind and quiet and you love being able to help them when they need. The random baked goods you receive from time to time don’t hurt either. There’s one old lady specifically that Billy has charmed completely. He’s definitely got her wrapped around his little finger, that one. 
And you enjoy the quiet at night. You’re sitting cross-legged on a sort of concrete platform on top of the roof that’s at the perfect height. Billy is sitting next to you, his big booted feet planted on the ground of the roof.
You can’t help glancing over at him, and you know affection is shining in your eyes but you can’t help it and you don’t care. You’d started this sort of friends with benefits casual thing a couple months ago but you were falling for him hard and you knew it. Yeah, he was rough around the edges, really rough, but there was so much more to him and you had never cared what anyone else thought. 
And damn if he wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Tall, dark and brooding as fuck. 
“I thought you quit,” you murmur, nodding toward the cigarette he’s puffing lazily next to you. 
He smirks. “I did. Don’t know what ‘cher talkin’ ‘bout.” He takes another drag then holds it out toward you.
You pause for a second but then you take it between your fingers. “I always feel like I’m not doing it right…” you half joke. “And then I just cough.”
Billy looks at you. “All this time on planet ‘earf and ya don’t know how to smoke proper? It ain’t that hard, love…” He grins mischievously. “Just wrap those pretty lips ‘round and suck. But slowly, not too much. An’ let it out slow like, too.”
You nod, pursing your lips around the cigarette but Billy scoots closer immediately. 
“Not so tight, love, relax. Little more slack…ya know, like how ya move your lips when me cock’s slidin’ in.”
You’re immediately pulling the cigarette out of your mouth as your cheeks flush. “Butcher!” 
He just grins and inches back on the platform before he tugs on your wrist, pulling you to sit in his lap and guiding your hand back up. “Try again.”
You try not to think about how good his hard thighs feel beneath you and put the end of the cigarette up to your lips but let it rest there between the two instead of gripping it. You take a slow inhale in, and then slowly blow it out again, watching as the swirl of white smoke drifts gently away. 
Butcher squeezes your hip. “There ya are, doll, see?” he grins, his dimple showing and you know he’s thinking his metaphor is what made all the difference.
“You’re a menace,” you murmur, handing the cigarette back to him. 
Butcher takes a long drag, then after a moment lets go. The thick smoke curls out from his full lips and between the both of you as he exhales. There’s something so fucking sexy about the way he does it and the glimmer in his eyes as he catches you looking at him. He continues to exhale, the smoke kissing your mouth. You breathe it in, swearing you can taste him on it. 
Holding the cigarette up to your mouth again, Butcher watches as you pull lightly and his dark hazel eyes go even darker with heat.
The look makes you squirm in his lap and his big hand clenches your waist. “Ya keep that up and I’m gonna end up takin’ ya right here on this concrete,” he threatens - promises? - a low husk to his voice now. 
Yeah…the thought of that and his gruff tone make you wet for him immediately. It’s been a couple weeks since the last time you slept together and suddenly now you need him so much it hurts. 
He must be able to tell by the look on your face because the corner of his mouth lifts in a wicked smirk. “Ya like that idea, dontcha doll?” 
“Maybe…” you murmur and he tsks at you. He gives you the cigarette and you hold it up to your mouth again as his hand slips down between your thighs. Your leggings and your thin underwear do next to nothing to shield your already throbbing clit from his rough fingers.
He presses in firmly, rubbing his fingertips in a little circle, and his smile widens. “I can already tell, hot and slick for me, aren’t ya.”
Two can play this game, you think. Leaning forward, you bite his full lower lip and he growls, sliding his hand in your hair and tugging you close to capture your mouth fully with his. He tastes like cigarettes and beer and something uniquely him, masculine and rich.  
His tongue slides over yours, hot and possessive and it turns your insides to jelly, somehow making you want him even more when you thought you were already at the max. You moan into his kiss as his tongue strokes into your mouth. The sensation makes you shiver, your center throbbing for him, clenching around nothing. How you wish he was already buried inside you. Butcher holds you closer against him and only breaks the kiss when you push at his chest, gasping softly for air. 
His eyes are dark with need and his gaze is intense. His eyes flick to your lips and you know they must be swollen and pink from his kiss. Your breath is still coming in little pants but you panic a little under his steady stare.
“What?” you ask, a little scared of the answer, but the look in his eyes is making you think crazy stupid things that couldn’t possibly be real, you had to be dreaming…
“Ya don’t even know how bloody gorgeous you are, do ya?” he husks. 
“I - ” you swallow, your muddled brain trying to make sense of what he was saying. Fuck. His hand is still pressed between your thighs and you groan as he shifts you closer. The motion presses his thick knuckle right against your cunt.
“Fuck Billy…need you, please…” you gasp, wriggling against his hand, your eyes fluttering closed.
You don’t want to wait to go back downstairs, you don’t want to wait another second, you want him right here, right now out in the open air, all of his teasing way too much to bear. You’ll beg for it if you have to.
But you don’t. 
Billy is moving the instant you stop speaking. He lets go of you to strip his battered old coat off and you squeak, throwing your arms around his neck, the cigarette still between your fingers, to keep from getting dumped right off his lap.
He tosses his coat on the cement next to you then reaches down to pull your shoes off, before standing and flipping you over to lay you down across his coat. 
“Such a gentleman,” you tease, smiling up at him from your prone position. The cement is still cold and hard beneath you and his coat, but you don’t care and you know you’ll appreciate the lack of cement burn in the morning. 
“Oi, when am I not?” he grins devilishly  and before you can answer he’s pulling your leggings down your long legs, and everything else with them, stripping you bare from the waist down.
He catches your gaze, then his big hand slides from your hip to your side, pushing your shirt up. He bends down to nip and bite at your stomach then drags his mouth over your skin, beard tickling and rubbing, until he reaches your breasts. You wiggle and arch to help him push your shirt and bra up the rest of the way under your arms until you’re naked from your tits down, spread out for him on the cement platform in the night air.
“You’re a fuckin’ sight, ain’t ya,” he rumbles, his eyes taking their fill of you as his rough hands smooth over your body and the chilled air licks at all your naked skin. “Think anyone can see?” He glances up to the right of you, at a taller building next to this one that clearly has lights in some of the windows. 
You whimper, squirming and closing your eyes. “Oh god…” you breathe. 
“Splayed out naked, out in the open here and practically beggin’ for me,” he hums.
“Billy,” you gasp. You aren’t sure if you want to just hurry up and get it over with or if you’re actually going to explode with pent up lust but either way you need him to fuck you now.
Billy seems to acquiesce and he palms your breast, tugging at your tight nipple with one hand while the other undoes his buckle and the button of his jeans. 
He takes the cigarette out of your hand and puts it back in his mouth, holding it with his teeth and taking another long puff as he unzips his jeans, pushing them just low enough on his hips so his thick cock can spring free. He flicks the cigarette aside on the cement then uses both hands to tug on your hips, pulling you to the edge. 
“Fuck…Billy,” you groan as he slots his swollen length against your slick cunt and presses your thighs further part then starts to push in. 
“Don’t need to tell me twice…” he rumbles. 
You stretch for him as he slides inside you, but he’s so big and you have to take a breath to relax enough to take him all the way. 
“So fuckin’ tight,” he groans in a gruff voice, and he shifts to slip his thumb over your clit to help ease his way inside. 
The moment the tip of his thumb circles the slick, tight bud, pleasure bursts inside of you and he thrusts all the way in, filling you up. 
It’s so good. You cry out loud, then quickly lift your hand to cover your mouth and muffle the sound but Billy grabs your wrist, pulling your arm away. “N‘uh…need to hear ya, love. Need to know how much you need my cock…”
“Everyone will…hear…” you whimper as he thrusts inside you again. 
“Won’t know it’s you, doll. Let them listen. Let them hear how good my cock makes you feel…”
All you can do is moan as he thrusts again and then again, his fingers teasing at your stiff nipple and then your clit again, driving you mad, always knowing where to go next. But you need more, you need all of him. 
“Harder…please…Billy…” you moan, clenching around his cock as he buries it deep, gripping the edges of his coat with your fingers. 
“Tha’s my good girl,” Butcher growls, thrusting harder and picking up his speed, hitting that perfect spot inside of you over and over.
You’re crying out with each deep thrust now and you don’t care who hears. When you wrap your legs around his hips, he leans down and presses against you, catching your shoulders and holding on as he groans against the curve of your neck. You can feel the vibration from his chest just as he thrusts, hitting every nerve ending on the way. It makes you cry out loud again, desperate and wanton. The sound echoes off the brick walls, making you blush harder as the pleasure of it zings straight to your clit. Fuck why does it turn you on even more…and it’s so annoying how quiet he can be even when he’s making you crazy. 
After another moment though, all thought leaves your mind and all you know is how fucking good Billy feels as you balance on the knife edge of bliss. The base of his cock pushes right against your clit as he gives one last hard thrust and then starts to pulse deep inside of you. It’s more than enough to make you come too. You’re crying out his name before you can stop yourself in choked moans and gasps that can definitely be heard in the next building as your body shudders in overwhelming pleasure.
Butcher slumps against you as he finishes emptying himself in your body and you curl your arms around his neck, your cunt still fluttering around him as the waves of pleasure from your climax only slowly start to abate.
The cigarette lays forgotten going cold beside you as he finally pushes himself up and tucks his cock away. You can still feel his come leaking out of you, mixed with yours, warm and sticky on your thighs but you can’t even find the energy to cover yourself.
When he starts to slide your clothes back on for you, you make a little noise, tiredly protesting at the mess still between your legs, but he hums and shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that smirk he has with a glint in his hazel eyes. “Have to wait ‘til we get back down to your flat, love. You like it, dontcha? Feelin’ what ya made me do?” he adds, his voice still gruff and low with sex. 
You make a sound of resignation but it is kind of hot, his small possessive way of marking and claiming you. You’re his.
When he has your bottom half dressed again, he grabs your hand and tugs you up, helping you pull your bra and shirt back in to place. You feel completely boneless and blissed out, and you quirk your lips in a half smile as you look up at him. “Fuck Billy…” you whisper. 
He chuckles softly and pulls you close against his broad chest in a hug, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get ya back inside and practice some more with that pretty mouth o’ yours, love, eh? Need ya too much.”
~*~*~ Thanks again anon, hope you like! Also thanks to @butchersdarkbird for letting me chat about it, @shirley-girly for giving me the perfect idea for a line for Billy on her reblog of a previous post and @dwinchesterspie1967 for the idea of including extra of his devilish smirk ❤️
@jynx15 @kus-babygirl @weallhaveadestiny @karlurbanism
@dustie-faerie @violent-darkness @bohemianblasphemy
karl urban masterlist
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miiyas · 3 months ago
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIYA !!
little birthday moments with him.
wc: 482, 401, post-ts, fluff, gn reader, may be ooc, slight proof read
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ATSUMU MIYA loves his birthday. he’s very vocal about it, bragging to everyone about how he gets to have osamus homemade vanilla-yuzu cake and how he was going to get absolutely wasted with him today. and as much as he loves all the attention and gifts, he also loves you.
everywhere he goes, there always would be a reference to you. your favorite drink, the restaurant you so desperately want to go to, favorite shopping brand, the bundle of smiski blind boxes atsumu always finds himself buying for you— everything reminds him of you.
now, despite his actions towards you, atsumu isn’t one for cheesy sentimentals. he thinks he’d rather suffer through sakusas earful lecture of cleaning his room and which sanitizing products are best for his shared home with you then admit that he’s soft for sweet affection and care. so when you give him his small birthday present after his actual party, he’s a caught a little off guard.
“savin’ best fer last, huh ? what’didya get me ?” he hums, leaning against the bed frame. he watches you crawl back atop of his waist, big hands coming to rest on your hips as you hold the small wrapped gift. it’s dark in your shared bedroom with the only source of light being from a lamp by your bedside.
atsumu almost reluctantly slips his hands off your sides and gently takes ahold of the present. it was no bigger than his palms, maybe a bit smaller, and it lacked weight. with sleep on his mind, the blonde carefully peels off the wrapping with blunt nails, tired eyes widening as he sees a small golden locket drop onto his stomach.
“it’s a keychain.” you whisper to him, picking it up and handing it back in his bigger hands.
“i wanted to get you a necklace so we can match, but i figured because of volleyball, you wouldn’t be able to wear it around as much.”
as you explain, you could see your boyfriends eyes prick up with tears ever so slightly which only engulfed panic in your system. the blonde brushes it of, telling you that he ‘ain’t cryin’ !’ and thumbs the tears away, opening the locket with a hand with a soft click.
“.. there’s nothin’ inside..” he mumbles, a little disappointed to not see your pretty face already displayed. that’s when you tug out your matching necklace already looped around your neck, opening it up to show its similar emptiness.
“i wanted to print stuff out with you tomorrow. y’know, i have your face on mine and—”
“i have yers on … mine.” atsumu finishes the sentence for you, his words a little drifted off as his thumb grazes along the intricate lines on the metal.
atsumu knows for a fact that he fell first and harder, and he can’t help but feel it happen all over again.
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OSAMU MIYA doesn’t wish for a lot of things on his birthday.
the only few things he wishes for are for the prices of onigiri ingredients to go down, find a bigger mattress for the two of you, and maybe get sponsored by a good kitchen utensil company and get some free goods. other than that, he likes to think that he’s content with the things already given in life.
he also wishes for people to stop teasing him for taking the second slice of his own cake.
there’s been a small birthday ritual the twins had been doing since they were younger— to give the first and second slice they cut to the people they care about the most.
first slice would always and forever belong to their ma, no matter what. that much would never change. second slice normally was given to one another, but osamu had soon gone irritated with the fact that his brother would always purposely make him take the best slice, only to hand it off later. so overtime, osamu had began to claim the better slice for himself, saving it and giving the third slice to his twin.
he doesn’t think he’s being greedy, just reasonable and fair.
but after starting to date you, he subconsciously sees himself handing you the first bite to all his meals, sharing a bento box when normally he would glare at those who want a bite, and letting you enter the kitchen whenever he’s at work in it which is a surprise in itself.
so when greedy-glutton osamu hands you the second slice to his cake, you’re a little taken aback.
“.. want me to hold onto it for you ?”
you sit right beside him by the table and osamu shakes his head, sliding the plate closer in front of you. there’s a soft look behind his pretty hooded eyes that makes your ears burn red, the atmosphere around you growing quiet until it was just your boyfriend voice you could hear.
“i wan’cha ta have it.”
you blink, eyes wide as you watch your boyfriend continue to slice through the cake with his twin before handing the slice to one another. your lashes flutter as you look down at the plate, you realize how generous of an amount you had received.
osamu likes to say ‘i love you,’ but he loves to show it more.
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savagewildnerness · 6 months ago
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Let’s breakdown this scene…
Lestat, playing piano: bent over, lost in the world of the music - out of this world entirely. Louis sees a broken thing playing a plank of wood. A far cry from the proud, splendid creature he once knew.
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(From Interview with the Vampire) "My eyes widened as I studied this stooped and shivering vampire whose rich blonde hair hung down in loose waves covering his face.”
Side note from me, as I love to talk about things that make The Vampire Chronicles appealing to me. Some people seem to be of the view that they wouldn’t desire immortality, only to be these sad, lonely, melancholic creatures… but I have always felt this way myself - even when I was a tiny child, long before I read The Vampire Chronicles. There has always been an innate loneliness and isolation to me deep inside. I don’t think you’d necessarily know it to meet me, mind! I am a smiley person! I like to do childlike, fun things. I try to bring happiness, not gloom to the world.
However, my instinct has always been to retreat into my own, wordless, unbound imagination, and to feel entirely alone, in truth. And still, I am. As a child, I felt more the weight of the world as if I were already 1000 years old. Now, loss of hope that comes with time is both sadder, scarier and, in its way, more freeing.
Anyway - imagine having infinite time and so being able to truly drift out of existence for decades. It’s such an appealing concept to me. I know Lestat is very sad here, but the idea of this kind of true escape… oh how I yearn for it. To let the world crumble around me. To step out of existence for some decades, with the possibility of return, not the reality as it is in mortal life that that is you falling through cracks you’ll never crawl out of ever again…
Lestat names Louis, reflexively when asked who said “hello”. He hasn’t turned to see Louis yet. To Lestat, Louis died 50 years ago. He is a ghost, surely? Lestat’s voice has a flat affect here. He isn’t thinking. He is merely reacting.
When Lestat first looks at Louis, I see fear:
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- Does Louis really exist?
- What will Louis do?
- Must Lestat be drawn back into the world here? To acknowledge reality?
(From IWTV) “`I've dreamed of your coming . . . coming. . ' he said.”
Lestat asks Louis if he’d like a rat, as if he were a hallucination still, more than real-Louis. I think Lestat knows Louis is real when he speaks, but he’s still only half in reality himself.
Louis says “I’ve come to see you”, but Lestat is still half in his own constructed world with his music and Argerich… I love how Lestat hugs and caresses his plank-piano, drawing it into himself, as if drawing music in to himself. Me too, Lestat. Me too. I adore how Rolin and all added music to this scene. It isn’t there in the books. Of course it makes a through-line for rock star Lestat, but it is a deep love of Lestat’s and I am SO HAPPY with this addition!
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I know a lot of people find “Siri, pause…” funny, but I must be a weird human, as I just find it oddly poignant. Like did people watch and laugh at this moment? This feels like when I go to see a play and people all laugh at something and I don’t laugh, then some other thing I laugh out loud at, but nobody else is laughing. And this is why I can’t do memes or any popular thing. SIGH. ANYWAY!!!
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The way Lestat puts the keyboard up on front of himself, like a shield as Louis moves closer, his breathing growing ragged. Lestat genuinely scared… as though Louis’ mere presence might obliterate him if he gets too close. And of course, he does not know why Louis is there. Is he there to kill him? Does it matter if he is? He should kill him. He could too, right now. The emotional support piano becomes a protective plank.
But what Lestat is not expecting is Louis’ kindness, care, worry and empathy.
“Did you save my life in Paris?”
And now we get the first glimmer of the old Lestat as Lestat lifts his chin, shakes his head, tries to be nonchalant and to muster up his old pride, maintain any pride he still possesses. He immediately dismisses Louis’ niceness with a self-criticism as he truly perceives that he put Louis in danger by not protecting him from Armand. Responsibility in Nicolas’ death, and, he thinks, in Louis’.
Lestat is defensive. His unspoken mantra, “Don’t see me. Don’t see the real me, Louis. I cannot take it. Not right now.” Lestat is almost begging Louis to tell him he hates him, as he’s imagined Louis’ hate all these years… I fear halluci-Louis may not have been the kind, loving vision for Lestat that DreamStat was for Louis…?
A side note again: Lestat’s “All hail me” gave me a full-on spontaneous existential crisis. Folks, does Lestat say “All hail me” in the books? I hope not! Because for as long as I remember, in appropriate circumstances, I say “All hail me” and obviously it’s a turn of phrase, but I had a sudden heart stopping moment where, with a chill, I thought *Did I get that from Lestat?!* Am I entirely even my self at all?! Am I merely a manifestation of all the art I have ever consumed? Am… I… Armand!?!?!??!! Oh MY! I don’t think Lestat says this in the books though, right? Right!?!?
Well, Lestat puts his piano-plank down, terrified Louis might show him love. Craving it. Fearing it.
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“Been enduring here?” Lestat is truly proud now. He will not admit his pain. As if not speaking it could make it invisible when it’s plain all about - from within him and without. It is *very* Lestat when questioned on the pain in his soul or shown that it has been seen to be like “I am FINE” & to think that’s how he comes across to others, when really of COURSE they see how broken he is. And then he bemoans that nobody will let him be broken, when he himself struggles to be broken other than when alone or on the page.
“I didn’t know it was a gift.” - Lestat is still wary. Still expecting hate from Louis here… unable yet to fully accept and understand…
Then Louis begins to say the only things Lestat has ever wanted to hear and know from Louis - thanking Lestat for the gift of vampiric immortality, showing he understands the beauty of it and intends to value that and use it… & Lestat is done for; broken open from here. He still, for a moment tries to fight back with “Shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other…” etc. But really, Lestat can now no longer maintain ay facade. Louis has opened him up.
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And now we are open to Lestat’s thoughts for the last half-century. Armand erases Louis’ suicide attempt from his mind, but it is the first thing Lestat asks about. In his mind he has replayed for 5 decades how Louis is dead and it is his fault.
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Sam and Jacob are so brilliant and beautiful as they open to each other in this scene. Claudia. Grief. Pain. Then, love. Broken-Lestat is particularly too much - holding on to responsibility over Claudia’s fate and how she looked at him at the end and he did nothing… and Louis, trying to take away and share the burden. Louis - so empathetic… and as they move through grief to love, words fall away (or become too personal to matter) and the storm outside echoes the storm of their hearts and their love.
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(From IWTV) ““…And as I looked down at him, as I saw his yellow hair pressed against my coat, I had a vision of him from long ago, that tall, stately gentleman in the swirling black cape, with his head thrown back, his rich, flawless voice singing the lilting air of the opera from which we'd only just come, his walking stick tapping the cobblestones in time with the music, his large, sparkling eye catching the young woman who stood by, enrapt, so that a smile spread over his face as the song died on his lips; and for one moment, that one moment when his eye met hers, all evil seemed obliterated in that flush of pleasure, that passion for merely being alive.
" Was this the price of that involvement? A sensibility shocked by change, shrivelling from fear? I thought quietly of all the things I might say to him, how I might remind him that he was immortal, that nothing condemned him to this retreat save himself, and that he was surrounded with the unmistakable signs of inevitable death. But I did not say these things, and I knew that I would not.
" It seemed the silence of the room rushed back around us, like a dark sea…””
Bonus: misprint in my TVL copy!
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(From TVL) “Louis had come finally to this very place and seen me through the windows. I tried to imagine it. Louis alive. Louis here, so close, and I had not even know it. I think I laughed a little. I couldn’t keep it clear in my mind that Louis wasn’t burnt up. But it was really wonderful that Louis still lived. It was wonderful that there existed still that handsome face, that poignant expression, that tender and faintly imploring voice. My beautiful Louis surviving, instead of dead and gone with Claudia and Nick.
But then maybe he was dead. Why should I believe Armand?”
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radioapple-heathen · 6 months ago
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My Top 10 Radioapple Fic 'Series' Recs
I've been working on this for a while. With nearly 4k fics for this ship on A03 (at the time of me writing this rec list), it can be difficult to find gems. I was really grateful for the rec lists I stumbled upon when I first joined this fandom, and I want to share the fics that have changed my brain chemistry with both newcomers and oldtimers alike. As with all rec lists, this list is completely subjective and curtailed to my tastes/preferences. I'm also sure this list will change with time as more fics get added to the fandom. As of mid-2024 though, here's where I'm at.
For background, I am an acespec 30+ married woman with ADHD raising a AuDHD child, and I appreciate fics that handle these aspects with respect and care. I've also been in fandom/writing for 20+ years, never professionally, always for fun.
My fic preferences:
I gravitate towards crisp prose that is sophisticated but not weighed down by excessive $5 dollar words. I like my fic like I like my food: digestible. The writing doesn't have to be perfect (typos and grammatical errors happen, that I can deal with) but the characterization is important to me.
I gravitate towards top!Lucifer because Alastor is a prissy little power bottom, but there are certainly exceptions to that on this list. At my core, though, I think they're switches with preferences.
I gravitate towards fics that have a nice balance of plot and romance, preferably leaning more towards the latter. I read fanfic for the relationship so if the plot supersedes the 'radioapple'-ness, I tend to find myself drifting/skimming, before giving up altogether.
I gravitate towards fics in sub <200k. Again this is an attention thing, no fault of the author, people loveee long fics. But often, even if I'm loving a fic, I'm like okay, where are we going with this? Again, some exceptions, which I'll highlight below.
I can be picky about my slow burns, like if it takes 100k to hold hands, I'll prob pass? BUT THIS IS JUST ME AND I HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A GOLDFISH AND I WANT TO FORCE THEIR HEADS TOGETHER AND MAKE THEM KISS ASAP?????
I gravitate towards genderfluid or intersex Lucifer, he's a shapeshifter and an angel, it just.. makes sense to me.
I have a preference for M or E-rated fics. I just really love the vulnerability and character development that can be explored through intimacy, especially in re: to Alastor's ace-ness. And what can I say? I wanna read about twink king getting it on with his deer man. That being said, I do have some T+ recs in my multi-chap/oneshot rec list.
Anyways. With all that said, let's get into the actual fics. Note, this isn't an exhaustive list, I could rec fics forever, there's so much talent in this fandom. These are just the ones that have altered my genetic makeup.
Top 10 Series
1.) All changed, changed utterly by @tollingreminiscentbells
Series: Complete. Rated: E. POV: Alastor for installments 1-5. Last installment (6) it switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.
Notes:
This is actually my favorite radioapple fic/series in the entire fandom. This series has rendered me somehow both speechless and bursting at the seams with praise. The writing is superb, the prose is elegant, but also easy to parse. Alastor meeting Lucifer as a human (and then again, in Hell) is by far my favorite trope of this ship, and this author takes said trope and weaves it into a masterpiece. The way they write Lucifer’s character (grieved by wrongs and loss, ancient and capable and so, so loving) is such a joy. And Alastor, god. I personally find Alastor’s POV tricky to write. He is a very complex character with a very specific narration voice, whimsical and deadly and clever and emotional stunted and possessive of what's his — which in this case, is Lucifer. I will never be able to sing enough praises. It truly cemented my love for this wonderful, complex, violently loving ship.
2.) Between the Shadow & the Soul by winterveritas
Series: In Progress. Rated: E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.
This author will pop up several times because everything they touch is gold. I really love this take on the radioapple dynamic where Alastor is rather smitten from the start, because I feel like many fics drag him kicking and screaming into admitting he cares (mine included, no shade). But like, Winter is able to write him this way while still keeping him in-character imo, and I just... love it???
3.) Lucifer and his Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by @keelywolfe
Series: In Progress. Rated: E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.
You might actually be living under a rock if you haven't read this series. If that's the case, I IMPLORE YOU, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, read this series. It has one of the best Lucifer's narration voices I've ever read. Also, it has one of my favorite tropes: "slow burn but they're fucking the whole time." AND AND AND intersex!top!Lucifer, YES PLEASE???? This series also is one of my 'typical attention span for fics' exceptions because it just hit 200k, and I am still 100% invested. I could read about these two idiots forever.
4.) Wicked Game by TrashDemonX
Series: In Progress. Rated: E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.
Not gonna lie, I went into this with the idea of just like, Smut Galore (and it is, bless), but it's actually become just a fascinating character study on Alastor. Impeccable writing, and there is currently one chapter left of part 3 AND I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FOR IT???? This is a top!Alastor fic but Lucifer isn't like a pillow princess, my man is involved and so for me, it works well. I can't say enough about how WELL this author writes Alastor's voice. Again, not an easy feat imo.
5.) Radioapple Broadcast by blatantblue
Series: Complete. Rated: E. POV: Alastor for Part 1, Lucifer for Part 2, Alastor for Part 3. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.
Notes: This was a positive JOY. Incredible writing and storytelling. Dom/sub undertones which is a huge plus for me, especially when Alastor is the sub. I reread this series often (and I usually am not a huge reread-er unless its been a while), but this is just a comfort fic, I think.
6.) Cataclysmic Cathechism by @wyldefire-writings
Series: Complete. Rated: E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: MPreg.
Notes:
I am about to show my entire ass right now but this series. My LORD.
Not gonna lie, MPreg was actually a squick for me before I joined this fandom/ship, but after reading this fic specifically, I'm now like, Al, my deer, my main man, knock that KoH the fuck up. Honestly, this was such a ride, and both of the boys were written SO WELL. Also, this author has the funniest A/N's I've ever had the pleasure of reading.
7. Hunger Pains by @theaffablescamp
Series: In Progress. Rated: E. POV: Switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-canon. Notable Warnings: None.
Notes:
Excellent writing and some very intriguing plot happening right now. Has arguably the most intense wing preening session I have ever read that legit lives rent free in my head. Another "slow burn but they're fucking the whole time" fic which is just delightful.
8.) machinations by fiveandnocents
Series: Complete. Rated: T-M. POV: Switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-canon. Notable Warnings: None.
Notes:
AHH I love this so much. Essentially, Alastor strikes up a relationship with Lucifer, as a means to manipulate him AND THE IDIOT FALLS IN LOVE UGHHH. It's chef's kiss. Spectacular characterization, this could be canon, and I'd be like yep, this happens in season 2, haha.
9.) By Name by @eunicorne
Series: Complete. Rated: E. POV: Switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: Gore, Consensual Murder? He regens, it's fine.
Notes:
So. I will continue to show my ass. As a note, I don't like violence/gore for violence's sake but when there are BDSM undertones and aftercare, I'm a fucking goner. This was one of my first dives into very dark aspects of radioapple, and I.. my brain chemistry has been altered by this series.
10.) imagine being loved by me by deliciously deviant
Series: In-Progress. Rated: E. POV: Switches. Notable Warnings: Gore, Consensual Cannibalism, I have never met a deader dove.
Notes:
Incredible writing and character voices BUT HOLY SHIT not for the weak or even average stomach. Again, I am soft for the whole, "I'm gonna cause you pain that you want/need to get out of your head" and I feel like I couldn't leave this rec out just bc of the content matter, but I am serious, read at your own risk.
AND THERE YOU HAVE IT. If you have any series recs of your own, feel free to share in the comments!
I also have my top 10 Multi-Chaptered (non-series) and top 10 oneshots recs list in my drafts rn, I'll be posting those in the next few days!
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sukirichi · 5 months ago
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𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐏
+ umemiya hajime & togame jo (was gonna include suo but i got nervous characterizing him, sobs.) + angst, minimal fluff. mentions of timeskip. (pssp!! i’m new to writing windbreaker but if you guys want to request ficlets/headcanons like these, feel free!) + 3.4k wc
divider from @/saradika-graphics
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— UMEMIYA HAJIME.
The night’s cool air bit at your skin as you stepped out of the restaurant. Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fight back the urge to look back at your date. The blind date your friends had set up was, to your surprise, not entirely disastrous. He was a charming architect, and a friend of a friend. Had a nice smile and the prettiest set of teeth you’d seen, with the kind of humor that elicited polite, yet casual laughter from you. It was… a good date.
Still, you couldn’t shake off the lingering emptiness in your heart – the void no one had been able to fill since he’d left.
You walked slowly, your thoughts drifting back to the past like it always did. You and Hajime had started dating when you were teenagers, a time when holding hands and stealing cheek kisses were the biggest deal between couples who loved a little too much, and knew a little too less.
Your relationship with him had been a well-guarded secret. Your parents were strict, said you were “too young to know anything about love.” Hajime was also the leader of a gang, albeit with noble intentions. Not that your parents would understand – they hear the word ‘gangster’ and immediately thought (or would’ve, if they’d met him) as a troublemaker. They wouldn’t take the time to know that his gang protected people from the real threats, the dangerous gangsters who roamed around the neighborhood. Your father would never understand it, and he would never have accepted Hajime.
Your love had been intense, the kind that only young hearts could know and experience only once in your lives. You’d whispered promises under the stars of marrying each other someday, stole kisses in hidden corners, and dreamt of a future together. A future that consisted of grandkids running out a minivan, and your hair would match Hajime’s iciness with old age.
Until that day where he just… left.
Hajime had broken up with you without warning, without explanation. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. It felt like your heart had been brutally ripped out from your chest. You remember crying for days, months even, waiting for him to come back – to tell you it was a mistake. But he never did. He disappeared, leaving behind only memories and an aching void that hadn’t been filled for the next years.
So lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure standing by the restaurant’s entrance until you nearly walked into him. You looked up, your breath catching in your throat.
White hair, icy blue eyes, and smooth, pale skin turning red from the cold.
Hajime.
He’d changed since you last saw him. His hair was shorter, short enough that he couldn’t gel it and have you brush his bangs back for him like you always used to. His face was more mature, too, but his eyes – the same warm, kind eyes you’d spent hours staring into – were unmistakable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the world around you blurring into an insignificant image.
“Hajime,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.
He says your name softly, like your name itself was the world and he had to hold it with steady, careful hands. And he used to, once. Before he let it go. He scans your face as you gaze back at him, unmoving, as if trying to make sure if you were real. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has,” you agree with a short nod, your heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”
When Hajime smiled, it held no happiness in it. “I was just passing by. How have you been?”
“Good,” you lie, forcing a smile as you switch your weight from foot to foot. “I just finished a date, actually,” you jerk a thumb back at the restaurant, and Hajime’s gaze follows it.
“I see,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I, uh… I hope it went well.”
“It did,” you replied, though the words felt hollow despite your honesty. That was the worst part, it seemed. The date did go well – he was charming, gentlemanly, and seemed genuinely interested in you. Had it been another universe where you’d met, you would’ve agreed at his offer to a second date, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because in this universe they had given you Hajime, took him away from you, and cruelly made your paths cross again. “What about you? What have you been up to?”
“Oh, nothing interesting. But I did leave the gang,” he informs, making your eyes widen. “I’ve been working in community outreach, helping at-risk youth. Trying to make a difference.”
“That sounds amazing,” you say, and you mean it. It isn’t surprising that Hajime has gone down this path; he’d always been full of compassion and integrity. A truly good man at his core. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.”
Silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Even after so many years, you could read him like the back of your hand. Hajime had always worn his heart on a sleeve, the longing in his eyes mirroring your own. “Hajime,” your voice breaks as you dared take a step closer, “Why did you leave? Why did you disappear without a word?”
He looks away, his face falling. “Your dad found out about us,” he confesses quietly, “He asked me to leave you alone for your safety. He said he would do whatever it took to keep you away from harm and I – I’m not invincible, you know? He was right. Even if I did my best to protect you, as long as you’re with me, you were bound to get hurt. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So you just left? Without telling me why?”
“I thought it was the best way to protect you,” he said, his voice pained. “I didn’t want to put you in any danger. I thought you would be better off without me.”
“But I wasn’t,” you whispered, angrily wiping away the tears that fell. “I was heartbroken, Hajime. I waited for you. Do you know how long I spent hanging around the neighborhood, hoping you’d show up and tell me you’d changed your mind? I-I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
Hajime steps closer, regret pooling at his eyes. “I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
All those years of pain and longing rose to the surface. “I missed you so much,” you say with a shaky voice. “Every day, Hajime. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” he echoes, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought about you all the time. I wanted to come back, to explain everything, but I was afraid. Afraid that you’d moved on, that you wouldn’t want to see me.”
You took a deep breath, trying to stead yourself, hands clenching at your sides. “I never moved on, Hajime,” you whispered, “No one else could ever take your place.”
He reached out, gently brushing the tears that fell in a steady stream down your cheek. The warmth of his hand was welcomed in the night’s cold air, and you leant into it despite yourself. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “I should have fought harder for us. I should have told you the truth.”
The two of you stood there, the world around you forgotten as you were lost in each other’s eyes. The years apart had been cruel, but in that moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. The familiar warmth of his gaze, the gentle curve of his smile – it all came rushing back to you, as vivid as the day you first met. The first time he’d taken your hand, the first time he’d hesitantly, yet eagerly, kissed you. You were just teenagers then, reckless and full of dreams, hiding in the shadows of your parents’ disapproval.
You could still recall the thrill of sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet him, the adrenaline of running into his arms through the streets, or the way he would wrap his arms around you to keep you warm on those chilly nights. The way he looked at you during those secret meetings, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and mischief. And his laughter, so genuine and infectious, had been your favorite sound.
You’d shared everything – your fears, your hopes, your plans for a future that seemed so close yet somehow always just out of reach.
“Is it too late for us?” you asked, your voice barely audible.
Hajime shakes his head, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. “It’s never too late. If you’ll have me again, I want to make things right. I want to be with you – to be the right one for you. Someone you wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”
“I want that, too,” you say, your heart still full of love and longing for this man. “I never want to hide anymore, Hajime.”
— TOGAME JO.
When Hajime pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you feel whole again for the first time in years. The past had been painful, but it also led you back to each other – just like how he once said he would always look for you, in every lifetime, in every timeline. And as he pressed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, you knew and believed, that this time around, you would both be strong enough to overcome anything.
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The nightclub was packed with people, the music pounding through the speakers, and the air thick with laughter and drunk conversations. You were out with your friends tonight, celebrating the end of a long week. For once, you felt free and unburdened. The neon lights flickered overhead, its colorful shadows dancing across the humid, jam-packed room.
You make your way to the dance floor, a sense of exhilaration passing over you. It had been years since you could go out like this – not needing a boyfriend’s permission, and doing whatever you liked, whenever you liked. Not that your exes were the controlling type – especially not Jo. Although looking back on it now, you wished he was a little bit controlling, just to show that he’d cared. Instead, Jo just nodded and hummed in response whenever you told him you were going out with friends, unbothered.
It had been two years since you last saw him, your first serious boyfriend after a string of failed situationships. You had shared so much with him, and yet, it had ended in a way that left a lingering ache that wouldn’t go away even after five drinks. The memories of your time together with Jo, both the bad and the good, were never far from your mind.
You’d long stopped trying to forget about him, however. Togame Jo was just someone you never forgot. Once he’d crawled his way into your heart, he’d make a home of it and have you carry the memories with him wherever you went.
He was your first love, after all. You’d been inseparable when you first started dating. It was a whirlwind romance, the type where you both clearly yearned for each other yet never had enough courage to say it out loud. The type of longing where everyone around you knew of your feelings except the two of you, and poor Sakura had had enough watching ‘the two lovesick fools.’ For months, the line between friendship and lovers blurred. You and Jo found yourself sharing secret glances from across the room, stiffening when the other’s knuckles brushed together, and heavily denying that no, they wouldn’t like me back, when it was as written in both your faces how badly you wanted each other.
And you did have each other, eventually. But as the months went by, things began to change.
Jo had become too relaxed, too comfortable now that he had you. He couldn’t see what you needed, or tell what it was you longed for – flowers, surprises, little gestures to show that he cared. Instead, your relationship had become routine. He rarely took you out on dates; most of your time was spent in his apartment, cuddling or sleeping, because Togame Jo slept like a log. And sure, you’d liked it at first. Basked in it even. To be wrapped up in his strong arms, and to wake up with your legs intertwined with each other, to hear his voice heavy with sleep call out your name.
Until the days became nothing but that – rotting in bed together. Each time you brought up wanting to spend time with him on a real date, Jo would just pull you back under the sheets, claiming you were warm and smelled too nice for him to want to leave the bed. It was something that upset you deeply, making you feel lonely even when he was right next to you.
You’d tried talking to him about it, but he never seemed to understand.
Jo was sweet and kind, but naïve in the sense that he made you feel invisible. The final straw came when you realized that being with him felt more painful than being alone. You’d hoped that he would fight for you, to ask you to stay, to see how much you were hurting and want to fix things. But when you said you felt like you and him weren’t working out anymore, all he’d said was, “Okay. If breaking up is what will make you happy, I respect that.”
You’re brought back to the present as the beat of the music pulled you onto the dance floor. You lost yourself in the rhythm, enjoying the moment, when someone bumped into you from behind. You whipped around, ready to apologize, only to be stunned into silence as you stared into a pair of familiar green eyes.
Togame says your name, his eyes wide as he balances a drink in his hand. “Jo,” you breathed out, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest. Here he was, standing right in front of you after all these years.
“Hey,” he says, inching closer so you could hear him through the loud music. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, it has!” you replied, your voice barely audible over the noise. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good!” he says, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “And you?”
“Good, too!” you said, though it felt like a lie. Seeing him brought back all the unresolved feelings, the questions you had never asked, the words you had never said.
Before either of you could say more, the music shifted to a slower beat. The crowd around you moved in closer, forcing you and Jo to bump bodies until your chests were pressed against each other. Without thinking, Jo downs his drink in one and starts to dance with you, your bodies moving instinctively to the rhythm.
It was as if no time had passed at all, the familiarity of his touch sending shivers down your spine.
The previous awkwardness began to melt away as you danced, replaced by a bittersweet nostalgia. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. It was both comforting and painful – a reminder of what you had lost. Years ago, before you started dating, you and Jo had been in the exact predicament – grinding and dancing on each other at some lame club Choji had VIP access too, touching each other yet still too hesitant to say what you truly felt. It felt like a lifetime ago already.
“Do you remember our first date?” Jo asked suddenly, his breath warm against your ear.
You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “How could I forget? You were so nervous, you spilled your drink all over yourself.”
He chuckled, the sound sending a pang through your heart. “Yeah, I thought I’d ruined everything. But you just laughed and said it was the best date you’d ever been on.”
“It was,” you say, your voice catching. “You were so sweet, Jo. You always were.”
“I tried,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I really did.”
The two of you continued to dance, the music swirling around you. The years apart seemed to disappear, leaving you both in a moment that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.
 “Why did it end like that?” he asked after a while, his voice barely audible. “Why did you leave?”
You take a deep breath, the memories of your breakup – and the events leading to it – flooding back. “I felt like you didn’t see me anymore,” your voice trembles. “You stopped doing the little things that made me feel special. You were always so relaxed, so comfortable, and I felt… lonely.”
“I didn’t know,” Jo frowns, and you know he means it. He looked so confused; like hearing this from you now made everything clear, and all the while more confusing. “I thought everything was fine. I thought you were happy. I thought we were happy.”
“I tried to tell you,” you remind him, with tears stinging your eyes. Those endless nights of trying to be subtle, showing him photos of flower bouquets and mentioning twice about this restaurant you’ve been eyeing in hopes he’d take you there. He never did, because Jo liked the sight of you cooking in his apartment more. “But you never understood. And when I finally said we weren’t working out, you just agreed. You didn’t fight for us, Jo.”
His grip on your hips tightens, then falters. “I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought if I let you go, you’d be happier.”
“I missed you,” you finally admit, circling your arms around his thick neck and pressing your forehead against his. “Even after everything, I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he says, his eyes closing as he breathes in your perfume. “Every day.”
You continued to dance, your bodies swaying gently to the music – simply because you’d both lost the words to say. As you moved in unison, your eyes don’t stray from each other, soaking in the other’s presence because it might be the last time you’d ever hold each other like this again. For a moment, it felt like you were healing, like you were finally letting go of the past.
In his embrace, there was a sense of closure, a quite promise that despite everything, one thing stayed true: you loved each other truly. The bitterness of your separation melted away, leaving behind a tender acknowledgement of what you had once meant everything to each other. It wasn’t a return to what you’d lost, but the shared knowledge that your history still held value. Now, it was time to step forward, and finally find peace.
Finally, the song ends. You pull apart from him slightly, your gazes still locked. There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you still felt. But for now, this was enough. You’d found each other again, even if it was just for a short, fleeting moment.
And it was in his eyes, too – the unspoken question if you could try one more time.
Everything in your heart and mind wanted to say yes. Yes, come back to me, Jo. Come back to me and I’ll spend forever in your bed, but it was too early. The wounds too fresh. You knew that going back to the same place and person that hurt you wouldn’t heal you. It was impossible. And Jo knew that, too.
“I’ll see you around,” he says, pulling away and detangling his arms from yours. Already, you were missing the heat of him, the strength of his body against yours.
“You too, Jo,” you reply, your heart aching for him one last time.
You part ways again – Jo with Choji and your mutual friends you’d said goodbye too, and you back to the new friends you’d made when you tried building a world that didn’t revolve around him. But this time, it felt different.
You’d acknowledged your past, and while it still hurt – saying goodbye to Jo never felt easy – it also felt like a step toward the right direction. And as you walked away, you glanced back at him one last time, seeing Jo standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you leave his world once more.
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shadowandlightt · 5 months ago
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Of Nightmares and Memories | Thirteen | Azriel X Rhys'!Sister reader
Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. smut
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve
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“What the fuck is that?” You demand, stepping forwards once more. 
“None of your concern,” Rhys snaps at you, a shadow of wings beginning to unfurl over his shoulders.
“No,” You say again, “I will not be your pretty little pet. If we are indeed going to war, I will fight. I wasn’t old enough the last time, but I’ll be cauldron damned if I stay out of it again.”
“She has the right to know,” Az spoke up. 
“Damn right she has the right to know,” Morrigan says, “You won’t be able to keep her away from this fight Rhys.” 
“Enough!” He snaps once more, “Enough.” His head is hung low, like he finally understands that you will not be shielded from this conflict. 
Az’s shadows drift towards you, curling around your arm, comforting you in an odd way. But you felt as if the walls of the townhouse were closing in on you. A war was coming. And it would be worse than the one of your childhood. You could feel it, deep in your bones, you would lose those closest to you. 
“I need air,” You forced out before running towards the door. 
Leave them to their scheming. You needed out, you needed the fresh mountain air. Something to remind you that you were no longer a prisoner. Even if Rhys would be more than happy to keep you locked away in Velaris forever, you knew he wouldn’t. He would let you fight, even if it threatened to be his undoing, because he would never be like Tamlin. He refused to let that darker part of him take control. 
You find yourself on the bridge to the Rainbow. Although you still refuse to cross it, much like Feyre, you couldn’t help but come here sometimes to just breathe. Seeing the colors, hearing the music, it still feels like a dream to you. But a very good dream that you never want to wake from. 
“Thought I’d find you here,” A deep, silken, voice says as Azriel settles into place next to you. 
You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips, so softly it almost isn’t even there. But it was a smile nonetheless, and Az didn’t let it go unseen. He saw every part of you, right down to the fingernails you’d ripped down to stubs. 
“You always did read me too well,” You sigh, turning to look back at the river. 
They used to have to drag you from this spot, kicking and screaming you might add. This was your favorite place in all of Velaris. Always had been. But you were whole back then, a full person. Now you felt like a ghost, the shell of who you once were. 
“Care to walk?” He asks, holding out his arm for you to take. 
“Not tonight, Shadowsinger,” You rarely used his title. Mainly saving it for official business. Maybe you were using it in hopes he would vanish, leaving you to wallow in your misery. 
War was coming. People were going to die. People you cared about. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. Az would be in the thick of it, along with Cas and Rhys. Your three men, the ones you loved the most, would put their lives on the line again and again to ensure that the right side would win. But at what cost? Who would you lose? 
The thought of losing Azriel made your chest threaten to cave in on itself. The breath was knocked from your lungs at the thought as you began to shake. You could survive losing people you loved, but losing Az? The one who seemed to always understand you? The one who seemed to see you? You weren’t sure you could handle that. 
“Stop thinking,” Az’s scarred hand gently brushes your cheek, causing you to flinch away for a moment, before reaching up to grasp his hand in order to keep it there. 
“I can’t help it,” You mutter, “I feel as if I’m going to lose all of you.” 
“You won’t lose me,” he promises, turning you to face him. 
“You can’t know that,” Is your only reply, “You can’t even begin to promise that.” 
He lets out a deep breath before he pulls his dagger, Truth Teller, the very one you gave him as a child, from its sheath, “I swear on this dagger, on my life as it were, that I’ll always come back to you.” 
“Az-”
“No, listen to me, Y/N, we promised as children that whatever we do, we do it together. Wherever we go, we go together, and I plan on keeping that promise. We’ll get through this war, should it come, together.” 
Tears burned your eyes. He’s never swore on that old steal before. It was his most prized possession, because it was the first gift he’d ever been given. Not something he had to win in a training circle, but wholly and truly his. You had it made just for him, had the runes carved into it, everything was done with him in mind, knowing what he would one day be. 
“Stop it,” You turn away from him again, forcing yourself to focus on the river as you blink away your tears, “You’re making a promise you know you can’t keep. You’re no death god, you have no power over it. Should the-” Your voice cracks, “Should the Mother choose to claim you for herself, there is nothing you can do to prevent it.” 
“Stay with me tonight, at the House. Give Rhys and Feyre their space,” He begs, “Sleep next to me.” 
“Azriel-”
“Please,” he says, forehead coming to rest against the side of your head, “I beg you. Just stay with me, so I know you’re safe.” 
You finally nod, giving into him. Like you could ever say no to Azirel anyway. He was your whole being, even if you didn’t yet know it. But you could feel it, the shimmer of a bond that had yet to awaken. 
He flies you to the House of Wind, making sure to add in an extra loop or two just for fun. You don’t let him see how the flight brings tears to your eyes, because the last time you flew was with your mother. You didn’t let him know how it threatened to crack your heart even more than it already was. No, you couldn’t let him know all of that. 
He still noticed the way you pulled away from him the second you two landed on the balcony. Your breath was shaky, as you walked away, wringing your hands. You were trying to figure out how to deal with this. You’d rather face the steps than fly again. 
The thought of flying again made you want to vomit. How could you explain that something that once gave you life and meaning now seemed so vulgar? 
“Are you alright?” 
“Give me a minute,” Was all you could say as you worked your way further into the house and away from Az. 
You hated pushing him away, hating keeping secrets from him. But the scars on your back seemed to burn with a white hot fire. You needed to forget, had you still been in Spring you would’ve had more wine than you should have and then invited Lucien into your bed to fuck you senseless. The rumors of Autumn Court men fucking with fire in their veins was true. 
“What do you need?” Az is behind you in an instant, feeling like you’re longing for something you won’t ask for. 
You never slept with Az. Not in that sense. But it’s the only thing you can think of to make the burning stop. To make you forget about everything. It’s the only thing you can think of to forget. Forget about your mother, forget about that day, and all that you lost because of it. 
“I can’t ask you for what I want,” You mumble, unable to stop yourself from leaning into him. 
You’re half tempted to brave the cauldron damned steps and find a pleasure hall. Surely you could find someone there to please you enough. But the thought of doing anything with anyone other than Az makes you just as sick as the flying did. 
When you were with Lucien it was because you never thought you’d see Azirel again. You never thought you’d see the man who made you whole, the love of your life. Now…now that you’re back, and Azriel is right here….you can’t imagine him not touching you. 
“Ask me,” His voice is gruff in your ear, “Ask me anyway.” 
“Fuck me,” You whine, twisting in his arms to kiss him, “Gods, please Azriel, I need you to fuck me.” 
“You need me to make you forget?” He questions, understanding in a way you could never imagine. 
“Please,” You beg. 
Shadows gather around you, cooling your boiling skin. Within the second, you’re surrounded by darkness as he winnows you to his bedroom. You know it’s his room because you used to sneak into it all of the time. 
Nothing had changed that you could see. Weapons scattered around, various weapon racks and cases along the walls. You’re on his bed before you can think, his hands all over you. He’s wild, like he’s finally let go of that thread that keeps him wound so tight. The little bit of control finally let loose. 
“Az.” 
“Shh,” He whispers, capturing your lips again oh so gently, “I’ll take good care of you. I promise.” 
“I’m not fragile,” You remind him, “I won’t break. I don’t need you to be gentle.” 
“You aren’t fragile,” He agrees, “But you are precious, and I want to be gentle with you.”
You moan out, feeling his hands, or maybe even his shadows reach for your breasts. You hadn’t been fucked in what feels like years. Maybe it had been years. When was Fire Night? Was that the last time you were with Lucien? 
Why were you even thinking of another man when you’re with Azirel? You silently scold yourself. Before you cling to him, holding him as tightly to yourself as you could. You wanted everything with him. You always had. But you never thought you’d ever have this chance. 
You thought for sure your father would marry you off to some Lord’s son before you could ever love Az the way you wanted to. Now here you are, hundreds of years later, ready to give him everything you have to offer. 
“I want you,” You whisper against his lips. 
It didn’t occur to you that Cassian could be somewhere in the house. You hoped that he was flying high above the city, and that all of this would go unknown. But the feel of Azriel’s hands on your skin was enough to make your mind go blank. 
The air was thick with the scent of your combined arousal. You could almost taste it. He gets to work on quite literally ripping the clothes from your body. It’s a good thing you weren’t overly fond of the set that Mor obviously picked out. 
“See, more of that,” You tease, nipping at his bottom lip. 
“Enough talking,” He warns, fingers dipping down to your heat. 
It was enough to shut you up, that’s for certain. The feeling of his scarred hands where you’d always dreamt of having them. Having his lips on your skin, working down your body, trailing kisses in their wake. 
A moan is released from your lips as he finally inserts a finger, and then another. You’re far from a virgin, he knows this, but it might as well be your first time. You feel like it is. Feel the need to fumble your way through so clumsily that it’s almost laughable. 
You’re whispering his name like a prayer, unable to form any other words. It’s just him, he’s all you can think about. All you could focus on. Anything else melted away as he sucked on your clit, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You’re a moaning mess. Clinging to the hair on his head, pushing him impossibly closer to your core. 
You can feel him smile against you, and it sends you over the edge as he chuckles. Your vision goes white and no sound comes out of your open mouth as you convulse. Az keeps working you through it, only stopping once you literally push his head away. 
“You…” He stops and shakes his head, shadows are dancing around the both of you, “You’re incredible.”
“Just get over here,” You mutter, grabbing for him once more so you could kiss him. 
Despite the awkward angle, you get to work on the laces of his leathers, trying to rid him of his clothing just as quickly as he’d taken yours off. You seemed to forget in that moment that you had powers that would make this much easier, or maybe you didn’t care about them. This felt more primal than your powers. 
You free his cock, mouth instantly going dry. You hadn’t expected him to be so big. You never listened to Mor when she used to joke about wingspans, maybe you should have. Truthfully, you weren’t sure it was going to fit, he very well might just split you in two. 
As if he senses your apprehension, his hands come to rest over yours, “I’ll be gentle,” He reminds you, “And if you want to stop, you just need to tell me, okay? You can walk out of here, no questions asked.” 
“I want this,” You whisper, “I want you, Azriel. All of you.” 
His eyes shimmer a little as he swallowed thickly, “Okay.” 
He leans down to kiss you again. Any of your worries seem to just melt away under his attention. But you still can’t help but tense up when you feel him line up with your entrance. He gently tries to soothe you, reminding you that he’s going to go slow, reminding you that you’re truly the one who’s in charge. 
He takes your breath away as he slides in. Your eyes screw shut, hands reaching for anything to grip onto, whether it be the bed or Az. He hisses above you, arms shaking as he tries to keep above you. His wings are flared out behind him, and you don’t need your eyes open to know that. 
“Fuck,” He mumbled, pushing in just a little further. 
“I want all of you,” You force out, wrapping your legs around his middle, feet digging into his ass. 
“I know,” He grunts, “I know baby. Just give me a second, or I won’t last.” 
After a moment or two, he finally pushes in the rest of the way, filling you to the hilt. You’re panting, trying to fill your lungs with air, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Az has his face buried in your neck, breathing just as deeply as you are. Nothing ever seemed to feel so right to you before. That thing inside your chest that always seems to be there for Az just blooms. Growing bigger, begging for more of him. 
“More,” You moan out, holding him tightly to you, “I need more.” 
He nods and draws his hips back before trusting back into you. His shadows are kissing you, moving along your body with featherlight touches. It only adds to the feeling of Azriel inside you. It’s almost too much, and yet still it’s not enough. You want more of him, you need it. You need all he has to offer. All he can give you. It makes you whine out. 
“I know,” He groans, kissing you, “I feel it too.” 
His hips snap a little harder, filling you even deeper if it’s even possible. You cling to him to keep you grounded, like he’s the only one in the world who could. It never felt like this before. This personal, this loving. It takes your breath away in more ways than one. 
“I’m not going to last,” You whimper, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten even more. 
The slow, deep tempo he started begins to become more erratic, thrusts becoming sloppy and harder. You’re a moaning mess underneath him, begging for something, anything. Begging for him. 
“Fuck,” He whimpers, literally whimpers from above you, “I’m gonna cum.” 
One more snap of his hips, and a flick of your clit, and you’re coming with him. Both falling over the edge together. Moaning and kissing and breathing together. You never felt more connected to a person before. Never wanted to feel more connected to anyone than you wanted to be connected to Azriel. 
“I love you,” He whispers to you, kissing your neck. 
You wrap your arms around him, stroking his hair, “I love you too, Az.” 
“Stay with me?” You never heard him sound so vulnerable. 
“I won’t go anywhere,” You promise, kissing his head. 
You fell asleep like that, holding one another. Anything you were worried about before had long since melted away. Nothing else seemed to matter but the beautiful Shadowsinger in your arms. He was all that you wanted, all you needed really. 
But when the early morning sun shone through the window, you felt nothing but guilt. Because as much as you loved him, you used him last night. It shouldn’t have happened because you needed to forget. The scars on your back seemed to be burning again as you made your way from Azriel’s room, dressed, surprisingly, in fresh clothing that the House left out for you. 
You’d forgotten about the magic of this place. 
You’re about to brave the steps when you hear a voice from behind you. 
“Never thought I’d see you sneaking out of here,” Cassian stated.  
“Don’t,” You warn, “Not this morning.” 
“Go back to him,” He urges you, “Whatever fucked up thing you’re thinking, forget it. And go back to my brother. He deserves one good thing in his life.” 
“I’m not good,” You shake your head, “I haven’t been in a long time.” 
He takes a step closer to you, arms wide open, “Whatever happened that day, and what’s happened in the years after, don’t change who you are. You’re still you.” 
A lump forms in your throat, and you rush into his open arms. Needing to feel some kind of comfort from someone who somehow seemed to understand what you’re going through. Somehow he knew, and didn’t shy away from it. 
“You’re still Y/N, nothing can change that,” He promises you, “We’ve all done things we wish we could take back, things we aren’t proud of. But you survived, they tried to break you but they couldn’t. They failed, and you made it out alive. No one can fault you for the things you had to do to ensure that.” 
“But-” 
“No, sweetheart,” He shakes his head, “You lived.”
You can’t help but cry. Because it's the first time someone actually told you that it was okay. Everything you did, everything you had to do…it’s okay. You cry so hard your legs wobble, causing Cas to haul you into his arms and walk you into the living room. He sits down on one of the couches, holding you in his lap, letting you cry it out. 
It could have been hours later, you aren’t quite sure. But quiet footsteps echo through the now silent living room. You know it’s Aziel, because he’s the only other one in the house, but you can’t bring yourself to move. All your strength is gone again. 
“Why is it that I always seem to find you like this?” He asked Cassian carefully. 
“Because believe it or not, I’m good at talking to her,” Cassian whispers back to him, “I think she’s asleep.” 
“I’ll take her to her room,” Az sighs, “How bad was it this time?” 
“Bad enough,” Cas shrugs, “She still blames herself.” 
“Do we need Rhys?” 
“No, not yet,” Cas says softly, “I think she’s figuring it out. Stubbornly slow, but I think she’s getting there.” 
Cassian is silent for a moment before speaking again, “She smells of you.” 
“Don’t.” Az warns, his voice not lacking an edge. 
“No, I’m happy for you,” Cassian clarified, “You two work well together.” 
“When she isn’t running we do.” 
“She’ll come around. She has to forgive herself first though,” Cassian assured him. 
Azriel comes closer, holding his arms out for you. Cassian sighs and stands, helping transfer you into Azriel’s arms. You instantly snuggle into him, humming in your dazed state. Cassian was right, you were mostly asleep. But awake enough to know that you’re in your love’s arms. 
“Take care of her,” Cassian warns Azriel. 
“I plan on taking care of her for the rest of our lives if she’ll let me.” 
“Good.” 
With that, Cas turns and makes for the balcony before shooting to the skies. Leaving you alone in the house with Az once more. You mumble something that Az can’t quite make out, which causes him to gently shoosh you. 
“It’s okay, I’ve got you princess,” He promises, “And I’m not going to let you go.”
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satoruhour · 1 year ago
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Helllooo!!!! I hope you're doing well<33 I'm not sure if you're taking requests so this can be taken as a random rant as well. (I'm in my exam week-depressed-stressed era lol) but is it just me Or the animated version of choso and the mans voice actor just doubled his hotness!?? Hence why me is here to ask if you could do a choso street racer au, could be anything from him meeting at a race or him taking them drifting? Idk but I just need more racer choso au's😭😭😭
LUCKY DIME
a/n: oh no my love i hope your exams went well and that you’re resting comfortably now ❤️ OFCCCC i planned to write a racer!choso for so long i just didnt have any motivation / tagging @screampied
wc: 3k
warnings: racer!choso, reader is ‘dating’ a weirdo, fem!reader, threat of sexual assault (from weirdo guy), threatening harm, flashback, unsafe driving tendencies (dont follow them in this fic lol pls drive safely), semi-public sex (parking lot), car sex, slight nipple play, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, finger sucking, implied multiple rounds and p -> v sex later on, n*sfw under the cut
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choso hasn’t always been open about his origins — moving from the shimotsuma district to shibuya just two years ago in need of quick cash to send back to his struggling mother. it was a hard decision on both ends, with his mother advocating more for him to leave for a better life than the one she could offer. he acquiesced with a promise to earn enough to send back to her every month in return for the secret stash she provided for him and that promise meant everything. he was going to get money no matter what.
even if it meant meddling with the local yakuza, doing petty little tasks of collecting money, escorting the people important to the oyabun to their meeting places, being on lookouts while gambling and prostitution happens indoors. choso would never write back to his mother on what he’s been doing to get so much money, but if he’s able to send a hefty amount back to her on every 29th, he’s satisfied.
that is until he’s met with a couple arguing as they walk along the alleyway, creating such a ruckus that choso’s sure they could power the whole of shibuya — well, more of the man, anyways, saying something about racing and cars that he’s not even sure he catches on.
“well, if you just listened to her and opted for a flat-plane rather than use a cross-plane, maybe you wouldn’t have lost the race!” you’re throwing your hands up, struggling to walk behind in these new heels you bought while you navigate the dark alleyway. for a boy who’s expressed interest in you, he wasn’t doing well in trying to keep you one bit. you’d say he’s rather annoyed that you know so much about cars, trying to genuinely help him while he just sees it as attacks.
“yeah, well, if you kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have embarrassed me about losing to noritoshi.” you roll your eyes, unaware you’re passing a dangerous area with dangerous activities behind the door choso was guarding, nor do you notice the way the bodyguard perks up at the name of noritoshi, who sounds awfully familiar.
you scoff, “trust me, you embarrassed yourself the moment you tried to challenge the dude,” it was meant to be a harmless comment; noritoshi could never measure up to the famous four, but he practised his drifting hard enough and put in the hard work, stayed humble. he was everything that your “man” wasn’t, and it was only deserved that he didn’t win. ultimately, you didn’t expect much from a man in the illegal racing scene who only cared about who had the nicest engines and paint finishes.
“what’d you say?”
choso keeps a close eye on the both of you.
“it was nothing—” you sigh, reaching out to grab at his arm to get him to stop shouting so loud when you notice the person standing in front of a shady door — twin pigtails hairstyle with a dead look in his eyes and a tattoo across his nose, dressed up in a suit. it was scary enough walking through a dimly-lit alleyway, but your fear heightens when your eyes fall upon the surroundings of ashes of late night campfires, dried blood along the walls, and used condoms on the floor.
“no, no, tell me what you said, just so i know that i heard you right,” your “man” insisted, stepping up so close to you that your nerves were on high alert from the proximity and the possibility of that someone just a few feet away inflicting harm on the both of you.
“it was nothing! i just meant that you didn’t have a chance against noritoshi from the st—” it’s like you hit a sensitive nerve, because the next thing he’s doing is grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, not aware of how choso perks up even more, ready to leave his post. it borderline hurts with the way he grasps at your skin, paired with the discomfort of your heels and outfit, you can’t just wait to get home and rest up.
“ohh, so that’s what you said!” the man continues to tug you, not heeding your pleas for him to stop, “might as well just leave you here with the yakuza to see whether you stand a chance.”
that’s what the man was guarding . . wait.
a shout wretches out of you when you notice there’s no shadows at the door that’s lit simply with fluorescence at the same time the mysterious man has one hand each on your arms.
“who are you—” your “man” has the gall to speak first, shocked at the stronger grip of the other when he tears the fingers away from your wrist before stumbling back. the mysterious guy simply tugs you into his hold, levelling the other with just a stare from his eyes that’s got him babbling and stuttering in fear. you hate to admit that once the man beside you speaks, your body curls into his side — it’s like a smooth cup of coffee that you gravitate towards.
“do you want to repeat what you just said?” choso puts you behind him as he approaches the other, one step taken while the cowering one takes one step back. “because i can always open the door i’m guarding and let them take care of you, instead.”
“t-that wouldn’t be necessary—” he’s adamant on his threatening, taking out a flip phone and dialling numbers one by one, no doubt the number of his boss. he doesn’t even look at you, eyes trained on the pigtailed man as he continues to dial the number and pressing call. if choso’s being honest, he’s about to shit himself just as much, never having called his saiko-komon personally before so he only fakes the number, thanking the heavens that someone somewhere decided to call his boss’ phone just at the same time.
they all hear it, the familiar nokia ringtone from behind the door, but in choso’s ear, all it says is that it’s an invalid number that garners no answer. he talks over the operator’s voice anyway.
“yeah, i need you to take care of this guy. just outside here—” that’s enough for him to go running away, puddles splashing and his voice crying out for civilisation, although you’re not too happy yourself, afraid for your own fate. kept like a pet for the yakuza? made to work for them to pay off this small helping hand? commit—
you sit up from the hood, “you called a fake number?!” it’s hard to say when that fateful meeting turned into this over the past few months, asking choso to recount the night the two of you met out of curiosity when you realise that your yakuza-accountant boyfriend had dialled a fake number the whole time.
“i had just joined! i wasn’t going to phone my boss . .” he sheepishly says with head turned to you, and while you’re giving him brutal smacks on the shoulder (“what! if! he! hadn’t! run! away! were you going to let a phone operator beat him up?”), you’re still thankful he decided to step in at the right time even if his heroic act had been brought down a notch by this revelation.
it’s then that he asks about the whole racing thing you were involved in but you’re taken aback by the fact that he wasn’t going to make you do anything in return. even if the alley had boasted its dubiousness, you realise than the man standing in front of you was not much older than you, a childish sparkle in his eyes when you entertained the question. with a random number in your phone, it was up to you if you wanted to text him, but after a few races, you think that he was just too handsome to pass up.
choso picked up racing and drifting fast, joining your small group of friends of yuji, megumi and nobara who were all rising up the ranks. it was difficult, knowing the famous four, but it didn’t hurt trying to build a reputation in the underground scene. he practised around the docks, crashing into crates, sending the seagulls flying, and almost sending your scrap car over the edge.
“tokyo is pretty at this time of night,” choso mumbles as he sits up, too, liking the way you scooch closer to him on the hood of his 1967 Ford Mustang.
“tokyo is cold, i’m lucky i’m not freezing to death.” you tease him even when you’re wearing his warm jacket, squealing when his cold hands make it under the jacket and your shirt.
“how are you cold, that jacket’s wool!” he nestles his face into your neck, freezing nose touching the skin there and you giggle, trying your best to push him away. choso says that, but he’s happy to see you in his jacket while his arms tingle with both frost and lovesickness. “you’re just extra sensitive to the cold.”
before you can retaliate, though, he’s pulling away from your body heat to look you in the eye; it was a wonder he even got you, a girl who’s just so passionate about cars and who taught him everything he needed to know about it. six months down the road, he’s writing about something other than living paycheck to paycheck again, getting in some extra money from racing as well.
“wanna drive?”
you grin, hopping off his hood before jumping into the car beside him and he only laughs at your enthusiasm, hopping in after you and starting the ignition. you wish it was like this before every race: you beside him in the passenger seat as he gets ready to race against his opponent. the rev of the engine always excites you, knowing you contributed to the many modifications of his Mustang. but choso always says it’s dangerous for you — so you’re left to watch from the sidelines.
but now, as choso drifts down the mountain, you can’t help but stare at him as he changes gears every few seconds, hair blowing everywhere from the wind outside before he reaches the base and races off into the main road. you’re shouting in excitement, music blasting loudly from the cassette player while you dominate the streets at night.
“d’you think i can break 190, sweetheart?”
your jaw drops, “while drifting?” he nods, “you’re insane . . yeah, do it.”
choso’s laughter feels infinitely heavenly, stepping on the accelerator on a fairly empty road. he’s familiar with the traffic of the roads too, so at 4am, it’s basically deserted when he speeds down the gravel while he tries to break the speed limit. you feel on top of the world, a pretty road full of green lights on every turn; there’s a couple of sharp screeches from his tires as he navigates shibuya.
“hear that increased throttle response . .” you whistle when he presses his foot into the accelerator again, Mustang speeding off into the streets while you look over to him: hand holding the stick shift and one hand on the wheel. he’s as pretty as you remember him six months ago and his beauty truly hits you in the moment that you unconsciously rub your thighs together.
“all thanks to you, baby,” feels like the final blow, not knowing the effect he has on you until you’re waiting until he slows down to place your hand atop his on the steering wheel. there he lets you steer where you want to go, face melting into recognition at the place you’re taking him to.
“you’re nasty.” in the abandoned car park, he giggles when you’re shushing him as you make your way to the backseats, levelling him with a stare that begged him to hurry.
“yeah . . whatever, you like it.”
choso grins, switching off the ignition and climbing in after you, making you forget all about the cold season of japan in mere minutes. his lips collide with yours and his body naturally pushes yours to the leather seats, driving you crazy just with his mouth. his hands make quick work of your skimpy outfit, inching past your tight halter top and to your tits. you gasp softly into the kiss.
“may i?” even after all this time, choso still asks for permission, pulling down your top and bra when you nod.
his mouth is both warm and gentle when it meets with your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud and eyes looking up at you just to relish in the hooded lids and soft moans you give him. his free hand fondles your other, squeezing and playing, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger.
“just s’soft . . always,” he hums into your chest, kissing you down bit by bit and making you wait for it with each teasing journey he makes. there, he manoeuvres himself onto the floor, kneeling on the carpeted finishing as your knees hook onto each shoulder. the car is filled with your laboured breathing, watching him slowly undo the straps to your uncomfortable heels. it’s excruciatingly slow, pulling at the strings and removing each shoe before his lips leave fire along your shin, up to your thighs and to your pulsing core.
“choso . .” you whine, hips bucking off the leather.
all he does is laugh, hands spreading your legs before he’s licking his lips at the mess you made in your skirt, panties and back of the fabric soaked right through. your boyfriend pulls you forward with a certain fervour that makes you yelp and you match him with a nervous grin as he tugs away the underwear and marvels at the arousal that just sticks to your pussy, pretty and dripping right in front of him.
you have no warning before choso indulges himself in your cunt and you cry out in surprise, hand tangled up in the mess of his hair that falls from his pigtails. his warm tongue laps at your clit like a man starved, slurping up all of your arousal into his tongue. the cold weather is just the cherry on top, cold wind wafting through the walls and the windows, making you extra sensitive.
“c-cho—” you hum, one hand lost in his black locks while the other clutches tightly onto the seats for any sort of anchor while choso only pushes his face further in between your legs. he can feel your pussy clench around nothing, switching between sucking and flicking his tongue with a relentless pace that threatens your sanity. “t-too much . .”
all he does is laugh into your centre, eyes flitting to meet yours while he continues his ministrations, arms wrapping around your thighs. choso moans at how good and sweet you taste, a curious hand moving from your legs right to your hole where he plays with your folds. gently, he pushes past your walls and you whimper from the intrusion, clamping down around his finger.
“relax, darling, i got you,” he softly says, relaxing his pace just a bit as he starts to thrust his finger. while slow, his tongue doesn’t stop, however, still continuing to make the lewdest noises.
“pussy so damn sweet,” he groans, nuzzling his face right into your sloppy core before teasing a second finger; it’s easy to slip in but he still warns you wordlessly, inching them right in until they reach the knuckles, “and so tight, too—”
the car is filled with the smell of sex, the sounds of your pussy and your endless moans as choso starts to pump his fingers in and out, reaching so much deeper than any of your toys can and stretching you out just right. your hips buck uncontrollably as you feel that coil in your stomach, knowing that you were only going to get even more of this before choso properly fucks you — but it’s all he promises, that to make sure you’d cum on his fingers and tongue thrice before he even thinks of railing you like you deserve.
“c-choso, your fingers—!”
“yeah?” it’s breathless, bottom half of his face all soaked and wet, but he goes right back in.
“mmfuck— cho, cho, p-please . .” your words are jumbled up, babbling through your teeth while his fingers gathers all of your juices, “i’m g’nna—”
choso thinks you’re just perfect like this, moaning as much as you want in his Mustang and spread out just for him to eat. he cannot keep his eyes off you, curling his fingers just a bit to find your sweet spot as he flicks your bundle of nerves as his eyes stay on the way your lips part for little pants to escape. your eyes have fluttered close by now but he doesn’t mind as you continue to push his head towards your cunt.
“cum on my fingers, my love,” the other groans, words muffled a little, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.” 
“cho— f-fuuck . .” you writhe around on the leather seats as you reach your peak, voice descending into a silent scream while your jaw hangs open. at his peripheral he can see and feel your thighs tremble while you chant his name like a prayer, over and over until you think your voice is hoarse. his seats are wet, no doubt, and you wince seeing your cum decorate the leather, but choso quietens your worries as he leans up to give you a kiss. you can taste yourself.
“taste good?” you’re ruined despite it being your first orgasm, answering half-heartedly before slumping, a soft moan leaving you when he removes his fingers and strings of your arousal stick to each digit. his hand naturally gravitates towards your mouth, fumbling with your lips before he pushes in — distracted, he takes the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your cunt again and you mewl loudly.
“that’s just the start,” choso grins, laying a long stripe up your pussy and groaning softly at the way your tongue swirls over his fingers, “i’m sorry in advance . . hope you’re able to get out of bed tomorrow, baby.”
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago
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Winter's King 17
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: I have a house now. One more month until move in.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You leave the queen, stepping into the gales that whip around the outer flap of her tent. You reach to keep your cap from flying into the violent winds, the soldiers with their chins down as they lean against the force. Before you can gain your bearings, a shadow appears and calls your name, battling the weather to be heard. 
“Eh, where is your cloak, silly mouse? You will blow away with the leaves,” Bryce approaches, latching onto your arm as the bluster swirls around you, nearly taking you off your feet. 
“I am fine, sir, I only need find a blanket,” you stumble against him as another willful gust pushes you around.  
“That isn’t what I asked. What has happened to it? You’ve lost it?” 
“The queen was cold, sir,” you answer and cling to him, shivering as the tempest swirls around you. 
“The queen... greedy...” his voice trails off as her sneers towards the tent. 
“Sir,” you touch his arm gently to calm him, “she needs it more than I. She is expecting the king’s child.” 
He looks at you and juts out his jaw, “aye, s’pose you’re right, even if you’re too kind for yer own good.” 
He turns you and grips you tightly, shielding you as best he can against the wind. Your progress is slow and stunted by the sudden ebbs and flows. He grunts as you stagger and steadies you, at times almost lifting you off your feet. 
“Sir Bryce,” a deep voice slices through the whistle of the winds, “a storm approaches.” 
The king nears, his sword gripped by the pommel as he leans it against hit shoulder. His golden eyes flick towards you, as if he had not seen you in the shadow of your escort. He raises his chin and returns his attention to the soldier. He angles his blade to the ground and the tip buries in the dirt. 
“Aye, it surely does,” Bryce agrees, “I’ve seen a worst tempest in my years.” 
“Sir,” Geralt holds out his hands and a glisten appears on his sleeve. You lean in without a thought, curious, then feel a cold speck on your nose. You look up and see the white flakes drifting down. “It will not remain so peaceful. It comes from the north and will deepen by morning.” 
“Shall we wake the camp?” Bryce asks and you sway with the wind. Once more, the king’s attention strays to you, he frowns. 
“Not as yet. Let the horses rest a little longer. They will be able to handle a dusting,” he affirms. “but I will harry the men to prepare for our departure.” 
“As will I. I’ll be certain the carts are covered and weighted.” 
“Sir, ever wise,” King Geralt praises and scowls at you. He shakes his head and huffs, “why does the maid wear no cloak? She will not survive in this, summer soul, she is.” 
“Aye, yes, I was only just telling her as much. Seems her heart is too big for her thin hide,” Bryce tuts, “we were only off to find her a blanket before she sleeps.” 
“Blanket, eh,” the king lets go of his blade, letting it stand in the ground. He unbuckles his collar and sweeps his cloak from around his shoulder, “I have my hunting cloak and I don’t mind the snow so much.” 
Before you can react, the king lays his heavy cloak over your shoulders. It is longer than your height requires and it smells of sweat and iron. You lower your head at the warmth clinging to the lined wool. 
“Your highness, many thanks, but I might find a blanket--” 
“Do not defy your king,” Bryce rebukes, “mouse, you would do well to accept his grace. You will certainly need it if these winds do not pass.” 
“Apologies,” you utter, “sir, your highness, you are both generous.” 
King Geralt grumbles and nods, looking once more to the sky as he grabs his sword. 
“The Ridge, Vulture’s Peak... it isn’t far. The castle will do, eh?” 
“Not far at all, your highness,” Bryce agrees. “It would do you well to let your wife rest. Many congratulations, my king.” 
“Congratulations? For what? Smelling a storm?” the king furrows his brow. 
“Oi, I think I’ve said too much,” Bryce glances at you. 
“Say more,” the king commands. The soldier sighs and sheepishly shows his teeth.  
“Please, maid, would ya...” He mutters. 
“Your highness, the queen said she is with child,” you swallow, “I only just came from her tent. I believed you were aware. I did not mean to gossip.” 
“Child,” his eyes sink and close. He hums and heaves a deep breath, “yes, she would need to be still a time.” 
“Your highness, again, you have my apologies--” 
“No matter,” the king waves his hand. “Take the maid, I shall see to my wife.” 
The king resumes his path onward, sword in hand. He hardly shares in Jazlene’s cheer for the news. Perhaps it is only the threat of the storm that has him unhappy.  
You bring your hands to the dark fur along the collar of the cloak and draw it snug. You chatter and Bryce clucks. He nudges you and you walk forward in step. 
“So the snows have come,” Bryce declares, “along with the heir. I sense many storms brewing, mouse. Best keep our eyes on the horizon.” 
⚔️
You don’t sleep for long, if at all. Only the shallow dregs of your anticipation. You watch the snow fall from beneath the canopy and as the horses are roused and fed before dawn, a carpet coats the ground. 
You peer down at the powder. You wonder what it feels like. Cold and wet, Bryce says, but don’t dirty your soles, you’ll be soaked. He remains, as ever, cynical. 
“Be off soon,” he says as he brings Daisy around, a thick coat over her back and haunches. 
“To Vulture’s Peak?” You ask. 
“Aye, so we will,” he pets Daisy’s snout as she sniffs him. “though our host may not be so fond to have us.” 
“Host? It is not the king’s castle?” 
“Ha, no, no,” Bryce laughs heartily, “a king can’t live on a desolate bluff. By fealty, a lord must break bread and offer a roof to his king. It might be his company which has him facing a cold welcome.” 
“Oh,” you frown. 
“Ah, even this old coot won’t deny us in the coming storm. He has sense of these better than any,” Bryce shrugs. “Don’t worry your head. You stay in your cart and Daisy will do the rest. She’s a fine climber--” 
“Out of my way!” The curdling snarl interrupts the soldier and you both look to see the source. “Move, by gods, I am the queen, be away from me.” 
You get to your knees, leaning on the edge of the wagon to see out from under the canopy. A scatter of bodies split apart as Queen Jazlene struts through, the fur cloak rippling from her shoulders and the hood set back on her head as her curls spill out. She sneers at the snow beneath her slippers. 
“Ah, I did hear there was a cart around here—ugh, out,” she points as she marches up to the cart, “by royal right, I am seizing this cart.” 
“Eh,” Bryce moves closer, “your highness, the king--” 
“I cannot sit a horse, sir,” she rests her gloved hand over her stomach. “Or would you murder the future prince with your selfishness. All for a--” she pauses and glowers over at you, rolling her eyes. “A maid?” 
You rise and snatch up the cloak you’d used as a blanket. You keep bent under the low canopy and climb out with the cushion under your arm. 
“Sir, the queen is right, she should have the cart, I will sit with the luggage.” 
He huffs and sends a grimace to the sky, unable to direct his malice towards its source, “if she must...” 
“I must!” The queen snaps and yanks the pillow from your hands, “I will need this, certainly.” 
You stand aside, staring at the pillow dolefully, and buckle the top of your cloak. The queen pauses as she faces you. She looks you up and down. 
“Where did you find this then?” She touches the collar of the cloak. 
“It is my spare cloak,” Bryce insists before you can answer, “what else do you require, your highness? Shall we bring a lamb to sacrifice?” 
“Hm, is that how you northerners worship?” She sneers, missing his irony. 
He blinks dully and says nothing. 
“Well, secure the horse, I will need to be drawn.” 
“It is my horse,” Bryce insists, “you may bridle your own.” 
“You dare deny me?” She snarls at him as the soldiers with her stand on either side of the cart. 
“You may take it up with your husband. This is my steed, she carried me to war and she will carry me henceforth,” he snips. 
Bryce and Jazlene glare at each other. You look between them nervously. You don’t know who King Geralt might choose in this battle should he be called. 
“Fine, fetch the stinky thing,” Jazlene demands of one of the soldiers, “and blankets, another pillow, perhaps something to eat.” 
The cast of the sky shifts with the first light of the sun and Bryce grabs both horses and leads them aside. He whistles for you to follow. You come to him as Chestnut and Daisy cluelessly puff into the cold air. 
“You will ride. I will not have that... queen seizing my horse,” he sniffs, “I will show you how once I’ve saddled the mare.” 
“Oh, yes, sir.” You look up at the horses back. It seems very high. 
“You will want to be aback anyhow,” he shrugs, “you’ll not want to miss the mountain. It is very beautiful, especially in the snow.” 
⚔️
The party continues onward, treacherously. As the snow falls, the train diverts away from the flats and onto the narrow paths speckled with broken trunks and towering trees. The smell of pine tickles your nose as you ascend, bit by bit. 
It takes some time to grow used to the motion of the horse. Daisy’s hooves are certain and she does not slip on even the most precarious spots. Bryce rides behind you, booming about each nook and cranny, pointing out the white rabbits and the wilted fauna. His enthusiasm is unexpected but endearing. 
You ride until the moon replaces the sun and dismount along the side of the great cliff. There is no room here to pitch a tent and only a few fires burn along the ridge. Your hips ache as the soldier grunts about his back. 
“I should see to the queen,” you suggest as you rub your hands together. 
“She must have many fawning over her,” Bryce spits out a wad of leaves and squashes it under his feet. 
“I am her maid--” 
“And we are on a long road. She might go without you minding her temper,” he snarls. 
You frown, “I am not upset. She needs the cart more than me.” 
“It isn’t that which sees me chagrined,” he growls. “It’s those deeds you will not admit of that traitor’s daughter which make me prickle.” 
You’re quiet. You look away, your eyes wandering up into the sky, watching the snow swirl down, following it down to the ground far below. The heaps are immaculate in the moonlight and the trim of white along the ridge gleams. 
“I am a maid.” 
“I know little of your summer people but if that is how they treat those who serve them, perhaps this alliance was not so wise,” he grumbles as he steps up beside you, “perhaps it would’ve been better to submit such cruel nobles.” 
“Sir,” you say, shocked and peer over at his profile. His beard has grown to meet his cloak, his hair coiling down to his shoulders. 
“I serve my king, as I ever will, but I will not bend the knees to a snake,” he hisses and crosses his arms. 
“We are united, aren’t we? Summer and Winter,” you reach to touch his thick hide mitt. 
“Aye, yes, I do not seek another battle,” he exhales. “I am only wary of those who may.” 
You squint. Your mind returns to Lord Dustan and what he said to his daughter. The heir is their prize, an affirmation of the bounty earned by their betrayal, but also a chain to that very act. To the man they forsook their name for. A man they speak as kindly on as they had their former allies. 
“Might I walk?” You draw your hand from his. “My legs are sore.” 
“Not too far. And keep your eyes open,” he girds, “and your hands in your cloak. You needn’t frostbite.” 
You nod and he turns to you. He pulls up the hood of your cloak and pats your shoulder. 
“Tarry too long and I’ll look for you,” he warns. 
“Sir,” you shift slowly and step past him. 
You trod higher up the incline as you marvel over the edge. Bodies huddles together beneath cloaks and blankets, nestling for warmth against the wall of the cliff. You carry on and stop near a luggage cart, close to the drop. You hold out your hand, letting snow gather in your palm. It is cold, bitterly and painfully cold, but so beautiful. You bring it closer and watch it slowly melt as your hand numbs. 
“Do you remember...” the king’s voice drawls over you as his soft steps approach. “What I told you of this place?” 
You look at him. He is lit by the moonlight, his golden eyes like stars, and his jaw is bristly with thickening stubble. You bow your head, “your highness, are the bears already asleep in their caves?” 
He chuckles, “you do recall,” he praises, “not yet, though they do not come this high.” 
“And the wolves? Are they near?” 
“They are always prowling,” he says, shifting closer, his arm pressing to yours. He bends slightly to peer straight down, “the elk will be in the forests.” He points to the snowcapped tips of the distant trees, “here, the vultures have their nests. Their eggs,” he curves his hands to show the size, “I made a writ, years ago. It is forbidden to eat the eggs. I always found it quite tragic to desecrate the majestic creatures before they can even be borne. Before they can fly even.” 
“Vultures? I’ve never seen one? They are... birds?” 
“Yes, birds,” he confirms.  
He is silent as he considers his kingdom below. His breath is gritty as it rises and falls. He has much to think on. A child, a wife, and his homecoming delayed by a storm. 
“One thing has changed here, in these lands of winter,” he says lowly and you feel a ripple in your cloak. He presses his hand firmly to your back, sliding it along your side to grasp your hip. He moves to stand behind you and brings you close. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your crown, “I said before, there is no summer here,” he holds you, pulling his cloak around you, concealing you within it as he drapes himself around you, “summer is here. With me. Warm and gentle.” 
You go rigid as he holds you, your heart beating at the unexpected embrace, at the unseemly contact between you. He hums as he stands with you in the shadows of the cart, so brazenly covert. Anyone might happen upon you and yet they all hide away from the storm. 
“Your highness,” you stammer and quiver against him. 
“Treasure,” he purrs, “my treasure. The one good thing I’ve brought home...” 
You can’t breathe or think. Is he drunk? Confused? What does he mean? 
“I--” he begins but the kick of a rock quiets him, the stone bouncing off the cart’s wheel. 
A shadow stalks down the precipice towards you and the king detaches, uncovering you from his cloak. He faces the figure as the tramp up the incline. You hear the king shudder as he tickles your back. 
“There’s the mouse,” Bryce says as he comes into the moonlight, his brow and jaw set, though he doesn’t look at you. He looks at the king, almost defiant. “You shouldn't be out so long in the cold. Exposed,” he grits, “come, I’ve sparked us a fire.” 
King Geralt clears his throat, “thank you, sir.” 
“My king,” Bryce says as he beckons to you, “I will keep the maid safe. As you bid.” 
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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago
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In The Moonlight
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard
I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao
Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear
Word Count: 1,110
Masterlist
AO3
He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.
You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.
He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.
It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.
And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.
Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.
Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.
You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.
Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.
You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.
Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.
“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”
His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”
You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.
“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”
He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”
Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.
The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.
For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.
Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.
“I love you.”
His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.
“I love you, too, darling.”
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7ouls · 2 months ago
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im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓
(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)
fem! reader btw
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Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.
Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.
You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.
He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.
Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.
At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.
As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.
Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.
“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.
“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.
“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.
“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”
“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.
“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”
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IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying
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mydadleft471 · 4 months ago
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Cerulean Coast and Flower Crowns
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Summary: Messmer takes you on a date to the Cerulean Coast. Fluff ensues.
This was a request from anonymous! I'll link the request here! I'm so sorry this took forever, I just started school again and the back half of my summer was NUTS. But this prompt was so cute I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I got home and busted it out. Thanks for the patience and the request anon!
Also, thank you guys for over 100 followers! I didn't realize I hit that until today, so thank you all so much! The support I get on here is insane, and it means everything to me. I love writing so much, and being able to share it with other people is so satisfying and gratifying!
As always, please enjoy and thank you all for following, reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! I hope I'll be able to post again relatively soon because I love this man sm
A soft knock at the door slightly startled you.
“Just a minute!” You hollered, trying to finish your braids as quickly as possible. Ever since you had braided Messmer’s hair, he’s been trying to get you to match him. Wearing matching braids was a simple gesture, but to him, it was anything but. He’d yet to work up the courage to ask you to braid a lock of his hair in your own.
Securely tying your hair in place and giving yourself a glance in your vanity, you decided you looked good enough to answer the door. The embroidered gold collar on your red dress glimmered in the sunlight streaming through the nearby window. Whichever way you turned, you would seemingly glow. A set of polished ruby earrings and a matching necklace sat on the table before you. They were another gift from Messmer. He loved when you wore red. Perhaps it was something possessive, or maybe it was the fact that red was his color, so wearing it meant you were proud to be his. Whichever it was, you didn’t mind. You just enjoyed making him happy.
Standing from your chair, you hurry to the door and open it. Standing before you was Messmer himself. You notice that he’s not in his usual armor and cloak, but instead, he wears a ruby tunic with black pants. He looks simple, yet regal, all at once. His hair has yet to be braided, as he insisted that your braids look nicer. You think it’s just an excuse to have you do his hair, which you don’t mind.
“Hello, beloved.” You greet him with a blinding smile. “Would you like to come in?”
He nods and enters your room. The smell of vanilla wafts in the air pleasantly. You catch his eyes drifting over your dress. He seems to realize that he’s been staring at you, and looks away quickly. 
He clears his throat. “Red suits thee, it seemeth. Ne’er have I witnessed anyone as beautiful as thee, my consort.”
“You look wonderful as well, Messmer. What’s the occasion?” 
“I wish for thee to accompany me to the Cerulean Coast.” His face is red.
“For what, my love? Is there some pressing business to attend to there?”
“No.” He grabs your hand and straightens the matching gold ring on your middle finger. “I wish to take thee there. Nights ago thou had said something about the beauty of the Cerulean Coast.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” You cock your head at him.
“I- yes.” He seems like he’s trying to shrink away from your gaze.
“When did you want to go?”
“If today suits thee, then today. When thou’rt ready.” He squeezes your hand.
“Well, first I need to put on my jewelry. Then, I assume, you want me to braid your hair to match mine?”
“How well thou knowest me.” He gives you a shy smile.
“Come on, then.” You lead him over to your vanity and you sit down.
You reach for your ruby earrings and begin to put them in, but Messmer’s hand gently stops you. You shoot him a puzzled look. Did he not want you to wear these today?
“If I may, I would like to assist thee.”
You give him a small nod and hand him the earrings. They’re comically small in his palm. He leans down and slowly puts your earrings in, careful to not accidentally poke you. Once he finishes, he reaches for your necklace and stands behind you. He gently drapes it over your neck and adjusts any jewels that aren’t facing the right way, then clasps the ends together. He ghosts his hand over your neck and collarbones, making you shiver. 
“I adore thee in red.” You see him smile at you in the mirror. His eye glints possessively and your stomach does somersaults.
“Your turn.” You hop out of the seat and gesture for Messmer to sit, which he does.
You grab your brush and begin to part his hair down the middle, brushing it so it’s silky and smooth. Taking three small strands of hair, you begin an intricate braid. When you finish with the first one, you wordlessly pass it to him to hold, which he does. He’s gotten used to your silent cues when doing his hair. You begin the left braid next, shaping it into a half-moon, soon to be joined together with the other braid. It’s a very simple hairstyle, yet it is Messmer’s favorite. 
Tying the ends together, you lean over and give Messmer a quick peck on the cheek to tell him you’re finished. His face reddens and he gives you a bashful smile. Even after all this time, he still flusters from the simplest of gestures.
He stands from your vanity chair and gently grabs your hand. He brings it up to his mouth and places a delicate kiss on your knuckles.
“Will the Keep be okay while we’re away?”
He nods and squeezes your hand. “Fear not, beloved. I have left Gaius in command. We shall return by sunset.” 
It seemed like he already had everything planned for the day.
He leads you, arm-in-arm, down the stairs and hallways you’ve started calling home, and servants bow their heads in greeting as you pass. One of Messmer’s serpents winds around your waist and the other perches on your shoulder. They relax against you, comforted by your warmth.
Messmer shakes his head. “Fickle creatures they are. But I cannot fault them for preferring thee.”
“They’ve only been with you for the entire duration of your life. They can’t be tired of you.” The serpents hiss and wind around you tighter, making you and Messmer laugh.
Once you reach the gates to the Shadow Keep, Messmer signals to one of his guards. The heavy doors slowly open, revealing the vast plains of Scadu Altus. The breeze gently tousels your hair and you huff. Messmer gives you a small smile and tucks a wind whipped lock of hair behind your ear.
A knight approaches with Messmer’s horse and hands him the reins. He’d pulled away from you briefly to pet her. You’d seen her before, but you’d never dared to ride her. She’s a large, black horse with deep brown eyes. Her mane flows freely down her neck and she exudes power. She’s stubborn, but Messmer had rode her into many battles and came back unscathed. If he trusted her, so would you.
Messmer looks at you, standing timidly a few feet away. He gives you that gentle smile that only you get to see and approaches you.
“Have I told thee her name?”
“No,” you shake your head, ruby earrings gently knocking against your neck. “She’s beautiful, though.”
“She is called Belladonna. A fine horse she is.” She whinnies at his praise, stomping her hooves as if eager to go.
Messmer reaches out to you and you give him your hand. He slowly pulls you towards Belladonna and extends your hand to her. She sniffs you a few times and then butts her head against you.. Messmer laughs and you begin to stroke her mane, amazed at how silky it is.
“Thou needn’t worry; she is gentle. No harm will come to you with her, beloved.” You believe him as she nuzzles into your gentle pets and scratches. The tension you felt upon seeing her dissipated almost immediately.
“Come, consort mine.” He mounts and settles onto Belladonna easily, as if he’s done it a thousand times. He wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up with assistance from his serpents. You settle with his stomach against your back, legs thrown over the side of the horse gracefully. 
“Wilt thou be alright?” Messmer secures you in between his arms, reins clutched in his hands.
“Just… don’t go very fast. Please?” Your stomach churns with anxiety being up so high. You also haven’t ridden a horse in what seemed like ages.
“Whatever thou wishest. We shalt go as slow as thou requires.” 
With a snap of the reins, Belladonna begins a slow trot. You thought you’d be jostled around more, but between the slow pace, the easy terrain, and Messmer’s form keeping you steady, you find yourself sighing and sitting back against your lover.
The trees are tinted gold as you ride past them, sunlight streaming in between the leaves. The grass sways in the gentle breeze and you admire the nearby wildlife as they prance carefree among themselves. You could imagine your surroundings in a painting. It was nice to be out in fresh air and away from the Shadow Keep, even if only for a little while.
Most of the trip is spent in silence apart from the gentle sounds of Belladonna’s hooves against the dirt and the occasional chirp from a bird nesting overhead. Eventually, the golden grass yields to a field of cerulean flowers. They seem to glow as they are guided to and fro by the wind. You wonder if they are magic, perhaps related to the Carian royal family?
“I have forgotten the beauty of this place.” Messmer’s quiet voice plucks you from your thoughts.
You turn your head to look back at him. He smiles down at you and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You hum in response.
“I’ve only been here once. I was fighting through it, so I really couldn’t stop and enjoy the scenery.”
“Since thou hast expressed thy interest in returning here, I requested that my knights clear this place of any who would pose a threat to thee.”
“You did that for me?”
“Of course,” he responds calmly. “Thy safety remains a priority of mine.”
“Thank you, Messmer.” 
“Gratitude is not necessary, beloved.” 
Belladonna stops at a sparkling coast with deep blue water. Messmer dismounts, then assists you off the horse. Bending down, he offers you his arm, which you take gladly. He leads you towards the coast, the water rippling as it crashes over the sand. Flowers mimic the waves and sway in the breeze. You notice that there is a blanket sitting among the blue flowers with a basket. You look up at Messmer whose face is bright red.
“Did you plan this?” You ask incredulously.
“Certainly not alone. Rellana assisted me.” He lets go of your arm and sits on the blanket. You follow his movements.
“What could’ve possibly made you ask Rellana for help?” You giggle and adjust your dress.
“I wanted thee happy, but I was unsure of what to do. Thou requested to return to the Cerulean Coast and I wished to make the occasion special.” He toys with the blanket and avoids your gaze.
“What did Rellana tell you?”
“She instructed me to bring thou here for a picnic. I hope it is to thine liking.”
You move forwards and cup Messmer’s cheek in your palm. He gives you a bashful smile. “I love this. Thank you, my love.”
He exhales and kisses your palm, visibly relaxing. “When Rellana offered her advice, I held the belief that this would not suit thy tastes. I am glad I am wrong.”
“You worry too much.”
“I am aware, beloved.” He reaches over towards the basket and opens it. “I requested rowa fruit pastries be made for thee.”
Your mouth waters at the sweet smell drifting from the basket. Messmer hands you one and you carefully unwrap it and take a bite. It’s perfectly fluffy and sweet. You offer a bite to Messmer, and he shakes his head, not willing to take your treat away from you. You huff and refuse to budge. Rolling his eye, he takes a small bite and you smile, triumphant.
You finish your pastry and look out at the ocean. The crashing waves provide a soothing sound and you can practically feel Messmer’s tension burning away. His serpents nap on the soft blanket, curled into one another.
You lean forwards and pluck a glowing blue flower from the ground. The stems are long enough to weave together. Looking back at Messmer, you realize that this shade of blue would look perfect among his deep red locks.
“My love?” You call to him in a sing-song voice.
“Yes?” He knows you’re up to no good when you sound like that.
“Can you go gather some more flowers for me? I think 30 should be enough.”
“Thou wouldst have me pick flowers?” You understand where he’s coming from. As a hardened war veteran and powerful demigod, picking flowers was probably not on his list of things to do.
You shoot him a pleading look. “Please? For me?”
“Fine, but I shall never again hear the false notions that I do not love thee.”
“Thank you!” Even though he seems upset, you know he’s just faking. He could never be upset with you.
He gets up and gets to work gently plucking flowers from the ground. As most things are, they are comically small in his hands. You begin to gather some near you, stretching your arms to pick them. You create a small pile, delicately draping the flowers over one another without sullying the serene glow of the blue petals.
In a few minutes, Messmer returns to you holding a bundle of blue flowers. He sets them next to your pile and sits back down. You give him a quick peck on the lips and utter a quick ‘thank you,’ then begin weaving the stems together. You work on Messmer’s crown first, as his will take more flowers.
He watches your nimble fingers thread the flowers together. Your beautiful face pinches slightly in concentration, and you move strands of hair away from your face as you work. He moves closer to you and holds your hair away from your face, helping you work faster and more efficiently. The ruby earrings adorning your ears sparkle in the dim sunlight. He admires you and wonders how he ever got so lucky.
Soon, you finish his crown and present it triumphantly. He gives you a loving smile.
“For me, beloved?”
“Mhmm,” you say, placing it on his head. The blue glow creates a halo and compliments his red hair well. He looks stunningly handsome. 
“A consort is deserving of a crown.” He gestures to you.
“I’m making mine next.”
“Wouldst thou teach me how to make these crowns?” He scoots beside you.
Your eyes light up and you nod. Grabbing two flowers, you show him how to weave them together tightly, so they remain locked in place. He watches you work and when you hand him two more flowers, he does his best to mimic you. It is harder for him to tighten them, as his hands are much larger than yours, but he tries his best. Once he’s weaved them together, you tighten them.
With you watching and patiently helping him, he eventually creates a circular crown of bright blue flowers. 
“Aren’t they fun to make?” You beam up at him.
“Fun, yet frustrating for my hands are much larger than thy nimble ones. But I enjoyed making it. I had the most wondrous teacher.” His gold eye shimmers at you.
He lifts the crown and you lower your head. He places it delicately on your head and smooths your hair down. When you look up at him smiling, he finds himself marveling at your beauty. The Cerulean Coast pales in comparison to your sweet smile.
“Beautiful.” He breathes the word, in awe of you. He pulls you closer to him, pressing a loving kiss to your soft lips. He sighs, at peace once more, thanks to you. 
He’d have to remember to thank Rellana after this.
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