#i also need to figure out what book to read next

[moonstrider9904]

Show Me Those Pretty White Jaws

Crosshair x Female Reader one-shot

Summary: Crosshair is used to getting any woman he wants, but when he can't get together with you, things are bound to get tense.

Word Count: 6.3k

Tags/warnings: SMUT 18+. Minors are not allowed here. Pining, jealousy, foul language, alcohol consumption. Love confessions, soft!Crosshair, flirting, being approached at a bar, playboy falling in love trope. The reader is a woman and described with short hair, but no other details are given except for she is also shorter than Crosshair. PiV sex, a bit of sub!Crosshair.

Playlist: Jaws and Rain by Sleep Token i promise you these songs are so crosshair coded and it hurts

One shot masterlist | Main masterlist | Read on Ao3

Dividers by @stars-n-spice

Sweet and smoky whisky filled his senses as he pulled his glass up to his mouth and tilted it to let the burning liquid warm his throat. Ever watchful, the GAR’s finest sniper examined the surroundings from his post on his usual booth facing the whole bar, his back pressed against the cushion where he sat. There in the noisy 79’s bar, there were dozens of faces similar to his, though none quite like him—a factor that greatly stroked his pride. Along the sea of bar goers, various feminine faces and features glanced and smiled at him, many of whom he had already met and taken back to his place. Crosshair never liked a sure thing, however. He liked the thrill of the chase, the excitement of seeking out and then succeeding.

Brown, piercing eyes finally landed on a figure that hadn’t caught his attention before. Your petite frame was angled away from him as you sat at the bar, and all he saw was the loosely-fitting black sweater draping over delicate curves, and short wavy hair stopping above her shoulders. You appeared to be by yourself, though it wasn’t long before Crosshair saw your frame moving as though you were talking, and the bartender finally made her way to stand in front of you, visibly responding to whatever you’d said. There you exchanged words for a moment, and the bartender was then called away by a soldier in need of a drink, but it didn’t seem the conversation between you two had ended for your body angled itself in the direction of your friend, letting Crosshair see more of your features with clarity.

He stopped sipping his whisky. In a quick glance, Crosshair was able to take it all in—the details of your outfit, the pronunciation of each curve of your body, the way the lights of the bar illuminated your silhouette, the shape of your eyes and your lips. There was something about you that made you stand out from the rest of the crowd, a softness, a delicate quality to you that made him wonder why you were at a bar instead of a cozy book shop. But he wouldn’t continue to question your presence there. The fact that you were was all the more lucky for Crosshair, and he resolved to make you his next unforgettable memory.

Crosshair downed the remainder of his drink with one last, swift gulp and set the glass on his table with a clank. He stood up and began making his way through the crowded dance floor; the sheer amount of people there made him grateful he was in civvies rather than his armor, despite the fact that his full armor always did him more favors when it came to impressing a lady. After a certain number of conquests, Crosshair had noticed the attention from a potential mate always seemed to gravitate towards his shoulders, chest, and waist, with the appendage on his left shoulder pad always earning him curious, beady-eyed questions about what it was like to be a sniper, questions he always replied with a seductive smirk and charming play at how lonely of a position it was, one he’d already memorized and learned it never failed—not only was his armor practical for a sniper, but his role as one captivated.

He wasn’t that far away from the bar now. The closer he got, the better he could make out the details of your smile, and finally he was close enough to hear your laughter above the other noise. Just a couple steps away, fate shone on him in the form of you glancing in his direction, and for a moment, Crosshair stopped. Your hair framed your pretty face better than anyone he’d ever seen, and your eyes were the most genuine specs of light in the entire bar, not unlike stars putting a city skyline to shame. Your eyes fell right on his, and as if Crosshair hadn’t been convinced already, your lips curved into a smile, one that showed him your pretty pearly whites and shone with knowing and confidence and a hint of spunk that beautifully contrasted with your overall tender aura, and enticed him to find out where that softness ended to become pure fire. His own lips flashed his signature seductive smirk at you, and though his eyes followed in that intention, his curiosity bled into his gaze, betraying how much he wanted to succeed in at least being worthy of knowing your name.

Dammit, Crosshair was certain he had to have you.

The intense longing lasted for merely an instant before you turned away from him and gave your attention to your bartender friend again, but Crosshair knew the night had just begun. He reached the bar and positioned himself to your left, not making any contact with you at first. The bartender glanced over at Crosshair, and the latter requested another glass of neat whisky. Before obliging to the request, the bartender quickly eyed you and retreated to get a glass, leaving you seemingly wide open for the sniper to make his move.

Crosshair then turned his back to the bar and glanced to his left side over at you with the look he already knew would work—he was gorgeous, and he knew it. He noticed you smirking as though you were holding in a chuckle, and finally, you met his gaze.

“Never seen you here, beautiful,” Crosshair opened, his voice smooth and deep. “Mind if I buy you your next drink?”

“I’d just finished for the night,” you smirked back.

“Ah, what a pity,” Crosshair answered just as the bartender handed him his glass of whisky. Crosshair took it and sipped it without breaking eye contact with you, and then he set it down again. “I hope you’ll stay with me while I finish mine then. You’d be making my whole night.”

You let out a gentle laugh and glanced momentarily at your friend, the bartender, and the sound of your laughter shook Crosshair’s confidence. He decided to push through it, though.

“Five,” you answered.

“Care to let me in on what that means, sweetheart?” Crosshair leaned in slightly towards you.

“Okay,” you got up from your chair and stood next to him, revealing your height to be much shorter than his, a trait he found endearing. “I’m gonna stop you right there. You’re handsome and everything, but I’ve already heard you using that line five times.”

Crosshair raised a brow at you and, silently, sipped his whisky again. “Is that so?”

“It’s not such a big compliment for your opening line to be ‘never seen you here’ when I’ve actually been here many times,” you smirked at him. “I don’t care how many pet names you add at the end of the sentence.”

Crosshair couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he took another sip from his drink. “I knew there was a fire to you. How about you show me what those pretty jaws can do?”

“I’ll bite,” you answered. “Every time I’ve come to this bar to chat with my good friend here, I see you perform the same exact dance, each time with a different pretty face. I know your type, and I’m not going to be another one of your little trophies.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Crosshair hummed, downing his drink and setting his glass down without asking for a refill—if he played his cards right, he wouldn’t need another one. He leaned down slightly closer to you, looming over you with a seductive glint in his eye. “You know what’s going on here, and I like it when a girl packs a brain.”

“Is that so?” You smirked at him, tilting your head to give your eyes an enticing look.

“Yeah,” Crosshair’s airy voice softened, betraying him once again as it let you know just how much he desired you. “Now, wouldn’t we be perfect together, sweetheart? Just tell me your name.”

Crosshair’s hand slowly, almost doubtfully, made its way up to your chin, his touch soft in a way that would let you swat him away if you wanted to, but finally his fingertips made contact with your skin. As he tilted your face up to him, your endearing smile widened, and your body wiggled so softly he wasn’t sure if you’d done it on purpose or not, but he loved the way you moved. Your smile made it hauntingly clear to him—he was done for. He’d replay that image in his mind for years to come. Then, your eyes met his again, and Crosshair noticed that you were angling yourself closer to him, painfully slowly, and he matched your pace in leaning down closer to you. He was sure he’d won, and any second now he’d feel your lips against his, he’d learn what your name was and pronounce those syllables in his mind repeatedly until he could have you in his arms and his body with yours, and he’d continue to do so since.

Instead, you pressed an index finger to his lips, and your seductive look was replaced by one of knowing, even a little mischief.

“Not gonna happen,” you whispered, and you pressed your hand towards his chest, pushing him away from you enough to walk past him and leave.

An army led by a tactical droid had never caught him as off guard as you just had, and the disappointment was visible in Crosshair’s features. He closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows together with evident regret, and a sharp exhale accompanied his strain. All that was left for him to do when his eyes opened was to watch you leave, but you’d bolted so fast that he wouldn’t be able to do that.

“Damn,” a voice filled his ears.

It was your friend, the bartender, staring at him and visibly struggling to contain laughter.

“What?” Crosshair hissed.

“Can tell that one hurt. You’ve been rejected before, mate,” they said. “Never seen you make that face.”

The bartender then poured another glass of Crosshair’s favorite whisky and set it on the bar in front of him. Crosshair couldn’t help but direct a puzzled look at them.

“That one’s on the house,” the bartender stated. “My condolences.”

Crosshair was unamused by the bartender’s banter—the fact that they were your friend gave him the awful premonition that you’d be hearing about this in the future—but he accepted the free whisky and downed it all in one gulp as if it were a shot. He placed the empty glass on the bar and returned to his usual booth, alone, disgusted at his failure and at the fact that he knew he wouldn’t get your gaze out of his mind for the rest of the night.

He wasn’t able to do it for the many nights that followed.

There were some nights he did see you at the bar, and there were nights he didn’t. The nights you weren’t there were worse—though he gave you your space when you were both at the bar, he couldn’t help but find solace in knowing you were there seeing a friend at the bar instead of a lover. When you were nowhere to be found, he found his mind wandering and clinging on to all the possibilities, all the men you could be with, men who hadn’t thrown away their shot with you without even knowing it, without even valuing it.

And he still didn’t even know your name.

You—despite the fact that you had lost track of how long it had been since the cocky gray-haired sniper had made his move on you—would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him. You were proud of standing up for yourself and your beliefs, and of not stooping down to a level of one more on the list of meaningless conquests at a bar, but the image of his enticing eyes had made its way into your mind in the course of those weeks. You’d thought back to the whisky on his breath, the way his teeth bared ever so slightly when he smirked, and how his chest felt under your hand when you pushed him out of your way.

It hurt, truly, that he was so careless with his own feelings, and the feelings of whomever he deemed attractive. But a part of you didn’t dare think of what things would be like if he was the relationship kind of man. Maybe you wouldn’t even be his first option in that scenario.

You found yourself at the bar on your usual spot, holding your usual drink in your hand, but its cool temperature had already caused the glass to sweat, and a thin ring of water had already appeared around the base. On any normal night, your drink wouldn’t last that long resting on the bar, and around you, everyone seemed to be getting their orders faster, a testament to your lack of chatter.

Finally, your friend the bartender approached you and crouched slightly to meet your downtrodden gaze. “No refunds for unconsumed drinks, I don’t care how sad you are.”

Your first instinct was to chuckle. “What, sad? Of course not!”

They raised an eyebrow at you and, from under the bar, pulled out a bottle of what seemed like hard liquor. “Maybe a shot of this will get you talking.”

You chuckled again, more genuinely than last time, and your whole body seemed to soften as you finally let your guard down. “No fair, you’re a bartender. Your expertise to read emotions is unmatched.”

“I like what I do,” said the bartender. “You’ve been getting more upset progressively. What happened?”

You looked up at them and sighed, taking a sip from your drink and setting it down again. “I’ve… lately, I’ve felt a bit lonely.”

“Dating scene’s hard, eh?”

“Not just that,” you said, tilting your head in reconsideration. “Actually, yeah, it’s just that. We’re at an age where we can, in theory, choose who we want to be with. But what happens when the person you want to get to know and maybe get intimate with is a total playboy who will most likely not see you the same way? What happens when being with the person you want to be with also means being at your most vulnerable and risking being cast aside by him?”

The bartender set the bottle of liquor down and their eyes widened at you.

“No way,” they said. “The sniper.”

You groaned and shrank in your seat, crossing your arms and leaning forward on the bar. “Yes. The sniper.”

“Baby girl, he is right there,” they said.

“Did you not hear me?” You asked. “I want something real, not a one night stand. I don’t care how—” you began to stammer, “-utterly handsome, gorgeous, and sexy he is.”

“So you stand by your choice to reject him,” the bartender asked.

You sighed and straightened your back as though to gather yourself. “Yes. Yes, I do. I just needed to vent.”

“So…” your friend began again. “Do you… want the sniper? Or do you want a palette cleanser?”

You met your friend’s eyes and hesitated. “I… I want to say… palette cleanser?”

It was obvious that you were doubting, but your friend, being the expert bartender and well experienced in listening to his clients’ problems, only had to look you in the eyes for a moment to know exactly what you needed. They knew every single customer at the 79’s—never mind the fact that most of them were identical—and for a couple moments, the bartender’s gaze drifted past your left shoulder and lingered for a while as though examining, as though they were plotting. You took notice of your friend’s positioning of their gaze, and you looked over your shoulder hoping you would see your next match.

All you saw was the sniper sitting at the farthest booth with a glass of whisky in his hand, all alone. But he wasn’t looking at you. With your heart plummeting in your chest, you turned away and reached for your own drink and took a large gulp from it.

“Wait here,” the bartender said. In the few moments they were gone, you paced yourself with your drink, beating the need to drown your sorrows, and when your trusted bartender finally returned, they did so with an agreeable-looking man, one who wasn’t a clone.

He was tall, had hazel-colored eyes and light brown hair that may have been blond in more natural lighting. He was dressed nicely, appropriate for a bar but not in a way that screamed a need for attention, and the amount of cologne he was wearing was rather attractive, certainly not too much of it. His lips were full and his bright smile crinkled his eyes as he looked at you, giving him a somewhat innocent gleam as he was visibly excited to meet you.

“What’d you say your name was?” The bartender asked him.

“Aiden,” he replied, looking at the bartender, and quickly went to meet your gaze again. “Aiden Maverick, pleased to meet you.”

You giggled softly, slightly surprised at how quickly your friend had gotten you company. Still, despite the speed, Aiden wasn’t a blatantly terrible choice. Actually, Aiden seemed like someone you could talk with, maybe hit it off, see where things went.

“Pleased to meet you too,” you said softly, holding out your hand to shake his. You then introduced yourself to Aiden and pronounced your name for the first time in a long time, perhaps even since you’d first set foot in that bar.

From the booth at the other side of the bar, Crosshair had tried hard not to stare at you. He wasn’t one to linger or to insist, but you’d made his mind your permanent residence. For the past weeks, even when he was on a mission sniping on some foreign cliff, his thoughts would often drift to the nameless girl from the bar, the one who only made him want her more when she was brave enough to tell him off like he deserved. For a moment, he asked himself why he continued to frequent the 79’s bar if all it did was remind him of how he screwed up with you before he could get himself a chance to try. It wasn’t as if he’d gotten a date since you turned him down. He hadn’t wanted to look at anyone else.

Some idiot he figured himself to be. Always confident and arrogant and snarky, with a quick remark ready for any occasion, but the moment one pretty girl turns him down, he shatters. Crosshair took a large gulp from his whisky—you weren’t just some pretty girl. No, he knew it when he first met you. He knew the second your bright eyes stared up at him and your soft, kissable lips smiled at him. He knew right then that he was a goner, that he would never be the same, that no one could compare to you, and nothing could compare to being smiled at by you.

But it was futile to lament. It wasn’t as if you knew, and it wasn’t as if you could. It didn’t matter when it came to you that Crosshair hadn’t gotten involved with anyone since he met you. You were the only person he cared to know that fact, and you didn’t.

For a moment, he dared to look at the bar, and the sight made him want to gag. Some nobody had gotten your attention—perhaps that nobody wasn’t notorious for anything and seemed perfectly rational. You were smiling at whoever that guy was, and Crosshair found himself wishing it was him standing next to you, flirting, charming you. He thought of going up there and putting up a fight, but some corner of him felt like he’d only be getting in your way of being treated nicely the way he couldn’t do the first time. Then, in the middle of his brooding, Crosshair’s watchful gaze picked up on another pair of eyes drilling into him just off the side of you and your acquaintance.

The bartender. Much like Crosshair in a battle, they saw everything. And it hit him. If anyone at the 79’s had taken note of the fact that Crosshair had put aside his old habits, it was the bartender. The bartender who, coincidentally, just so happened to be your friend, and just so happened to be staring intently at him as you hit it off with some other guy at the bar. Crosshair raised a brow at the bartender, asking with his gaze what he was supposed to do. He noticed the bartender directing a quick eye roll at him, and then they walked their way back to you and your new friend and placed one hand on your shoulder, the other one on the new guy’s shoulder.

“Alright, buddy!” The bartender called loud enough for Crosshair to hear. And then, the bartender continued to call out that “he” had their blessing to be with you, and then, the bartender pronounced your name.

Upon hearing what your name was, Crosshair understood. He understood that he couldn’t sit there for another second—to do so would be blatant waste, and if he did it, he would never deserve to be with you. But he downed the rest of his whisky, set the glass down loudly on the table, and stood up with more resolve than he had ever mustered in his life. He made his way across the crowded dance floor, finding it harder to do so than last time—his armor played a certain part in that, but despite the fact that it gave him confidence, the master-of-control sniper felt his chest shake with every step he took closer to you.

At last, he reached the bar and positioned himself beside you, catching Aiden’s attention. When Aiden looked at Crosshair, you realized he was standing beside you, and your eyes widened in surprise. You couldn’t help but feel defensive for a moment—you weren’t sure you’d be as firm to turn Crosshair down a second time.

“You’re gonna have to leave,” Crosshair told Aiden.

“What?” Aiden raised a brow. “Who do you think you are?”

“I haven’t been able to get this woman off my mind for weeks,” Crosshair evaded any temptation to buff up in testosterone and chose the path of brutal honesty. “You’ve known her for five minutes, I’ve needed her since the first time she smiled at me. I have gone back and forth six missions since then, been on the line of fire, and a blast to the heart would be heaven compared to never having another chance to make things right with her. I’m all the more hopeless than I was when I blew my chance, but I’m gonna need you to step aside right now because I need to make this okay.”

You barely knew Crosshair, but you didn’t reckon he was a man of many words. For him to say that much—and speak that beautifully—about you, made every fiber in your body shift towards him. You glanced quickly over at the bartender, and they were already looking at you with knowing eyes, raising their brows and gesturing at Crosshair before going on their way to tend to the rest of the customers. You let out a soft chuckle, flattered at the change in events, and you knew to trust your friend. With apologetic eyes, you looked over at Aiden.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Could you please give us a moment?”

Aiden appeared disappointed, but he nodded and stood up from the bar, taking the rejection like a pro and even managing a polite smile at you. “Right. Have a nice night.”

You directed a soft smile at him too as he walked away, but then your attention tunneled towards Crosshair, and your big eyes looked at him with hope and a twinge of caution.

“So…” you began, speaking as softly as the volume at the bar allowed. “I’m guessing changes of heart are common in soldiers.”

Crosshair stifled a chuckle. “Being a soldier had nothing to do with it.”

He was hesitant to touch you, and instead, he resorted to letting his gaze gently shower you with his purest intent. “What I said was true. I want to be with you, and I don’t care for anything else. All I could want is to come back alive from every mission to come home to you.”

You scoffed, but ended up smiling at him. “But… look. I’m crazy about you, and I never would have dreamed you’d want something with me. But you’re still you, you still get out and about and get whatever woman you want—”

“That’s over,” Crosshair said. “It has been since we met.”

“I can vouch for that,” the bartender jumped into the conversation. You looked over at them, half indignant, half amused, and your friend dismissed themself with a carefree wave of their hands before continuing their work.

You then looked at Crosshair again, and he looked at you. His entire aura seemed to soften, and he leaned in closer to you, almost shyly.

“You have a beautiful name,” he said.

You smiled, feeling your cheeks getting hot. “Thanks.”

He smiled back at you—he had a truly beautiful smile—and finally, Crosshair leaned in enough to rest his forehead on yours. Down at your side, you felt his fingers beginning to brush yours, and when you let him take your hands fully, you noticed his smile widen.

“So,” you said sweetly, “do you want to get out of here?”

His eyes met yours as your foreheads continued to rest on one another. “Yes. Do you want to?”

Your smile widened too and you gave a soft nod. “Yes.”

Crosshair gave a smooth chuckle, regaining some of his usual charm and confidence. “So, this is gonna happen after all?”

You giggled in response. “You’re pushing your chances, but yes.”

The laughter between you quieted down, and for a moment, your lips hovered over each other, flirting with the possibility of sealing the space and sinking into the first kiss. The tension in those millimeters left between your lips and his was electrifying, utterly delicious, and you wanted to savor it. You wanted that drumroll to lead to the best possible first kiss, and with your gaze suddenly full of mischief and excitement, you stood up from your chair and began leading Crosshair outside. He followed gladly, but not without leaving a generous tip for your friend, the bartender.

Outside, you were met with cool air and drops of rain falling from a cloudy, gray-blue twilight sky. The towering Coruscant skyline simply hit differently in the rainfall, and the countless lights that twinkled around you were reflected in the puddles on the pavement. You had no idea where you were headed, and you had the feeling Crosshair didn’t know either, but for that space, all that sufficed was to position yourselves under a lamp post. With Crosshair leading the way, he stopped next to it and turned around to face you as you caught up with him, never letting go of his hand, and that was when the rain began to fall harder. Anyone else who wasn’t covered from the shower would hurry out of the mist, but you felt it then without a doubt—the moment had come.

You smiled up at Crosshair and felt your spine erupt in sparks when he directed a smirk at you, one that was suggestive but didn’t lack an evident tenderness to it, a joy fueled by your presence and your hand in his. Towering, his armored, handsome figure inched closer to you, and his free hand secured your waist. Crosshair pulled you closer, you angled your face up as a sweet beckoning for his lips, and in those final beautiful seconds, Crosshair leaned down and took your lips in his, unleashing every bit of that delicious tension that had formed between you two. Every one of your feelings for him escalated, and you took a leap to wrap your legs around his waist, feeling him secure your rear end with strong hands. A playful moan escaped you, and you went on kissing him under that lamp post, mindless to the fact that you were soaking in the rain, for each second was worth the cold surface of your clothes in exchange for that heat building between your body and his.

In a matter of a blur, you and Crosshair left the spot under the lamp post that would forever belong to you two. The whole way back to your place, you could hardly keep your hands off of him, and when you managed to make sense of reality again, you found yourself in your living room clinging to his body once again, smirking into playful kisses as you both stumbled to your sofa. You rested on the couch cushions, wet clothes be damned, and enjoyed the sight of Crosshair looming over you with his figure still broad and armored. You let your hands roam freely over his silhouette, feeling damp plastoid on your fingertips wherever you touched, ranging from his back to his chest, his shoulders, even his expert hands. When Crosshair slipped his tongue into your mouth, you both moaned at the sweet sensations caused by the friction, and the taste of whisky prompted a wiggle of your hips that sent him reeling.

You felt your deepest corners beginning to ignite, and you let go of Crosshair’s body to bring your hands to your wet clothes, slowly beginning to remove your sweater followed by the blouse that clung to your body. When Crosshair noticed, you perceived the darkening of his gaze, and he aided you in removing damp garments. Your skin was left exposed, feeling cool as it came in contact with the air around you, and swiftly, Crosshair reached for a blanket you had folded on the armrest of the couch to cover you from the cold.

He resumed kissing you, and you decided it was his turn to lose the armor. You helped him remove the shoulder pad with the appendage, and the one without; his belt came off and then his chest plate, followed by one set of arm pads and then the other. By the time you were growing impatient, Crosshair was left in the black, thin suit that concealed his skin from you, and feeling the freedom from his armor, he pressed himself firmly to your body, letting you feel the hardening bulge between his legs. You invited him into the cocoon of your blanket, letting warmth engulf you both as your kisses wore on, and you felt his gloved hands taking their liberty with your curves.

Soon, you pressed yourself up to him and you were both sitting on the couch, breaking the kiss for a split second, only enough for you to pull the skin-tight black shirt over his body. You hesitated before kissing him again, prompted to take in all his beauty and memorize it, and when you kissed Crosshair again, your hands brushed from his lower abdomen and all the way up to his chest and collarbones; you could feel shivers forming on his skin as your hands trailed over him, and Crosshair let a deep moan bleed into the kiss, entranced by your touch.

You felt him standing up and bringing you along with him. He made sure you were still covered by the blanket as he carried you, and you broke the kiss, panting for breath with an enticing grin, biting your lower lip as you pointed your nose in the direction of the bedroom. Crosshair stood on the spot for a moment to kiss your lips one more hungry time, and then with almost impossible tenderness, he carried you to your room and set you on the bed, where you kneeled on the mattress facing away from him. As soon as Crosshair got on his knees on the mattress, with your back pressed to his chest, he kissed your neck and whatever he could of your collar until you turned your face to capture his lips once more. The blanket that covered your naked body fell down to your sides, and with your skin exposed again, Crosshair didn’t hold back before letting his hands feel your waist and travel up your breasts.

You ached in those moments of foreplay, longing for more, letting that hunger manifest in your kisses quickening and your breath straining. With a smirk into your lips, Crosshair obliged your silent request, and one of his hands went to your knee and snaked up your inner thigh, pausing for just enough to make you whimper in anticipation. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and you let out a wanton moan when you finally felt his fingers brushing over your clit in expert motions, not wasting another moment. Pleasure instantly flooded you, awaking every one of your nerves, and your body sank back into his as you moaned at the sweet electricity coursing through you. You could feel it building and bubbling more with each second that passed, enjoying every instant of it until you knew release was imminent. Your gaze found his, knowing you wanted to be looking into those beautiful amber eyes when it happened, and when it finally did, your whole body curved in its inability to keep upright at such intense pleasure expanding to your every corner. Crosshair moaned in unison with you as though to cheer you forward, enjoying every bit of your reaction, swelling in pride at how good he could make you feel. He didn’t let himself stop his expert work on your clit, he wanted you to feel every ounce of pleasure you could possibly feel, and when the time was right, he let you go for a breather.

He’d expected to remain on top, but Crosshair was met with you grasping his shoulders and leading him to lie down on the bed. You climbed on top and straddled his waist, eyeing the lines of his muscles standing out in the dim lighting of the room. You leaned forward enough to set your hands at the base of his hips where the fabric of his pants began and, pressing gently, you ran your hands up his abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of his muscles as his breath quickened in arousal. When your hands reached his chest, you felt the bulge in his pants hardening more, pulsating against your crotch, and Crosshair threw his head back on the pillow in a futile attempt to suppress a moan of sheer excitation before he looked up at you again with hungry eyes, his lips mouthing the word Please barely under his breath.

You leaned forward and kissed him again, moaning in tandem with him. Your hands reached down to the fabric that continued to cover the lower half of his body, and you undid the buttons at the top to pull it down enough to free his erection, and you heard Crosshair moan softly at the sensation. Barely giving him time to dimension, your hand grasped his girth and began pumping slowly, and you grinned with satisfaction into the kiss at the sound of Crosshair moaning louder at your touch.

“Yes,” he hissed, moaning into your kisses once more as you continued massaging his length. He continued to mumble things into your lips, only letting you make out faint details of “Touch me” until the final request was, like music to your ears, “Fuck me.”

You obliged, lifting yourself only to sink on his entire length, hissing at the sharp pain that quickly turned to pleasure when he stretched you out. You kept your lips close to his, and with his help, you bucked your hips up and down, rising and falling on his cock at a luscious pace. The heat emanating from your bodies continued to build between you, until you’d reached the quickest pace you could in that position. The sight of you on top of him was enough to entrance Crosshair, but he still ached for more. He wouldn’t have enough until you were writhing in his grip, and in a swift movement, he rolled over on top of you. In full control, Crosshair bucked faster into your hips, enticed by how deep and warm and wet you were. Every moan you let escape dragged him deeper into the state of ecstasy he found himself in, and he knew he’d never escape.

But he didn’t want to escape it. He’d pined for you long enough, and there you were, entwined in your lovemaking.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, letting him pound deeper into you until you once again exploded into raw pleasure. Your fingers clasped the silver hair on the back of his neck, and you let yourself moan his name out as you pronounced yourself his. After a few more movements, Crosshair was coming undone inside you, savoring every wave of intensity as the ropes of white flooded you inside, releasing airy moans as his body slowly allowed itself to calm down and he collapsed beside you.

Your visions blurred for the moments to come, and all either of you needed to know was that the other lay there beside you. You gathered yourself and rolled over onto one side facing Crosshair, and you let your hand slide gently up his torso one more time. You lay your head on his shoulder and rested your full weight on him, holding him close to you, and then you felt his arm draping around you as he let out a gentle, fulfilled sigh.

“We’ve got to do that again,” Crosshair panted.

“Yeah,” you said dreamily, and then you giggled. “You didn’t plan on sleeping tonight, right?”

Crosshair’s signature seductive chuckle rumbled low in his chest and he rolled over on top of you once more, seemingly ready to continue. “Not a chance.”

If you like, please reblog too. Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

Back to masterlist

[thebubblesareevil]

UNO Reverse

So we all know Danny is batbait right?? But what if after vlad the fentons have developed a method to combat billionaires trying to adopt Danny.

So the fentons are in Gotham for some reason or another and they refuse the let Danny’s grades slip so they have him at Gotham prep.

Everyone knows Danny’s parents are mad scientists but Tim is really concerned about his new classmate that keeps coming in with new bruises everyday that he barely tries to hide.

He brings it up to Bruce after doing some investigations and Bruce decides to look into it.

Next thing Danny knows he keeps running into different members of the Wayne cult and the batfamily. It takes him longer than he’s care to admit to figure out they were the same people but in his defense he was exhausted from school, helping his parents with their clean energy project and training with fright knight.

That’s also his excuse for why it took him so long to realize they were trying to assimilate him. Once he does realize he starts going out of his way to avoid them, trying his best to keep his parents from finding out but he realizes it’s too late when his mom gleefully hands him a card one night and sends him on his way.

The next time danny encounters Batman he completely ignores his gentle encouragement and promises to protect him as he pulls out the card and throws it at batman.

Danny sighs and says “I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I need you to know you’ve brought this upon yourselves.” He turns and leaves behind a confused bat holding an UNO reverse card.

The next day Wayne manor is invaded by Jack Fenton carrying a stuggleing vlad over his shoulder and a giant tray of fudge in his other hand while Maddie gleefully hugs alfred proclaiming how happy she is to see her family getting bigger while Jazz is dragging Danny in behind her by his ankle while reading a book. Danny is snoring.

The Wayne’s are confused.

When Vlad finally breaks free he gives Bruce a pitiful look and asks if he also tried to adopt Daniel.

Jack then yells UNO REVERSE!! Instead of adopting Danny we have adopted you!!!!

This just popped in my brain so I thought I’d share

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[lalunanymph]

୨⎯ 🖤⎯୧ 𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐃É𝐌𝐎𝐍

driven by a desperate need to uncover the truth behind your visions after the chaos at the auction, you strike a deal with sylus to unlock more of your memories… only to discover far more than what you bargained for

𓇢𓆸 MONSTERFUCKING, explicit smut with sylus in his demon form, cumflation, predicament bondage (he ties you up with his evol), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage, nightmare landscapes, references to GOETHE'S "FAUST" AND HADES imagery for my rendition of sylus' origin, religious imagery, sacrilege, mentions of food, mentions of blood, mentions of death, reader goes insane, mentions of gore, mentions of violence, reader and sylus had a child together, sexy but it's also pretty angsty wbk, this is barely edited ... sorry ...

They say that no one understands human curiosity quite like a demon does.

Once angels with the entire heavens at their feet, their eyes now scorch the earth searching for souls to entrap and torture, striking deals in turn for pounds of flesh they devour once a mortal leaves the realm. 

Demons were cunning and ruthless creatures who struck fear into every heart they encountered; whose natural oozing charm and demeanor could convince even the most stalwart of men to sell their soul in exchange for a paltry consolation prize. 

In a way, Sylus reminds you of a demon. 

If it weren't for the deal you struck with him to bring you to the auction at the hotel, you wouldn't be stuck in this liminal situation where you know too much, but not enough.

After the incident at the Salon Hotel where your memories were coming back in pieces and fragments, frustration stole the last of your rationality and you all but begged the towering, intimidating lord of the N109 underworld to help you gain more of your recollections back.

At first, he had refused to do so with no reason given. 

But, just as you overestimate how stubborn he can be, he underestimates just how persistent you are in turn. 

Sitting across from him in nothing but a scarlet robe he had gifted you, the runny morning sunlight spilling across the mahogany table does nothing to warm you up from the inside out. You're still jittery from the explosion and the fight with that strange looking Wanderer, all while your lover (partner?) appears both nonchalant and nonplussed despite almost losing his life a few nights ago. 

"I can hear the wheels in your head turning, sweetie."

Sylus finally puts down the book he's been reading for the past half an hour, peering at you over his glasses. 

You clear your throat and reach for the glass of pomegranate juice the personal chef had prepared, whetting your throat and your lips for what you have to say next.

"Sylus, it's been days since the last time we were at the hotel," you pause, biting your lower lip. "Don't you think I deserve an explanation of what happened? What I saw in those... flashbacks?" 

If you could even call them that.

The dagger in your hand. The blood stains on your fingers. A towering, dark figure whose touch was more familiar than you could ever believe. It all felt too real and tangible. 

Much, much too tangible. 

As much as you try to ignore it, bury your curiosity six feet under where you could never see it again, your innate Hunter instincts tell you there's something big he's not telling you. 

Something he can't tell you.

Sylus' exaggerated exhale grates your ears and he gives you a scrutinizing look all over.

"I told you—"

"You have no idea what set off those flashbacks, yeah, I heard," you bite back, seething.

A shadow of a grin teases the corners of his lips. "Seems like the little kitten has her claws ready. Whatever is bothering you, sweetie?" 

Bristling at his patronizing tone, your glare sharpens, your grip around the glass tightening. 

"I want to know the truth, Sy." You lean back in the chair and cross your arms. "The whole truth. And nothing but. Why did I have those visions? Why were you in them? Why can't my memories come back no matter how hard I try to remember?" 

You expect him to scoff or play elusive with you like he usually does. But, for the first time since you've met him, Sylus is wearing a pensive look, one which draws the angles of his face to look older than his 28 years of age. 

"Are you sure you want to know?" 

His voice is hoarser than you expect, and you perk up in disbelief.

"You-you're willing to tell me?" 

His crimson eyes flicker to the pomegranate juice in your hands.

"I would like to. But, it depends on if you can handle the truth, little bird." 

You squint at him through narrowed eyes, trying to uncover the ploy he has up his sleeve. Trusting Sylus didn't come naturally to you, though you did try for the sake of the Aether Core bond connecting you both. 

"I can handle it," you mutter decisively. "You've seen what happened after the hotel explosion—I can handle it."

The sunlight cascading behind you drenches half of his face in the shadows, a look of deep contemplation etched in his countenance. 

"Alright." He stands up, and without another moment to spare, rummages in his fridge, fishing out a whole pomegranate and peeling it with nimble, sure fingers. Your curiosity simmers to a boiling point when he taps out a handful of seeds, placing it in a bowl and pushing it right towards you.

"Eat up." 

Cautiously, you assess the blood red seeds, wondering if this was a test or some sort for him to evaluate you. 

“What is this?” 

Those crimson eyes glint with an unnamed emotion, and his expression remains unfathomable. Straightening to his full height, Sylus sauntered over to you, hands in his robe pockets; a teasing grin on his lips. He stops just shy of brushing his shins against your knees, and leans forward, broad shoulders blocking out the morning sunlight as he drenches you in the full shadows of his intentions and secrecy.

“You asked me to tell you the truth and I will. Consider these seeds a downpayment for what I’m about to reveal to you tonight.” 

Adrenaline spikes your veins, and your breathing hitches with excitement.

Is he really…?

Your thoughts trail off, and you hum, reluctantly picking up one perfectly round, juicy red globe. 

Faintly, your voice reaches him, soft and frayed with hesitancy. 

“And if I do this, will you tell me everything I want to know?” 

Striking a deal with Sylus is like striking a deal with the devil himself. You knew this—if it was too good to be true, there was something you had to give back in return. But… the idea of fully comprehending the horrible visions you saw is much too tempting. 

In answer, he cocks his head to one side, regarding you curiously like how a raven might, his mannerisms bringing to mind a scheming Mephisto. 

“Of course. When have I ever gone back on my deal?” 

The allure of knowing is too hard to resist. As you bite down on the pomegranate seeds, its sweet juices coating your tongue, you never thought succumbing to temptation could taste this good. 

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

It’s night somewhere in the recesses of your consciousness. 

You should be in your own bed in Sylus’ mansion, high thread count sheets pulled up to your chin, but instead, you’re barefoot in this abandoned colosseum, staring up at the towering effigies of old gods long departed from this world. The state of these statues are in ruin; fragments of faces and bodies missing as if they were alone were the lone survivors of a universe-changing explosion.

Only the sound of your breath and the rustle of your footsteps whispering across the stone floor touched your ears. Your guard is up, and you think you’re fully here alone when a presence makes itself known behind you. 

You feel his arms wrap around your torso, pulling you right to his chest. There is no need to turn around; you already know who it was.

Silver hair the color of snow shines in this drab, gray pantheon where old gods and a new world witness him getting to his knees, pressing his face right into your belly that, you realize with a jolt, is protruding slightly.

“I have missed you,” his familiar baritone sends sparks of longing down your spine, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, sighing deeply in contentment.

“My brother tried to keep me locked in the basement,” your words, though foreign to your own ears, felt right at this moment.

Sylus, dressed in a soldier’s uniform, kisses your stomach again, his yearning felt through his sigh when he caresses your hips with broad strokes of his large palms. “I only wish to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“That is my dearest wish, too,” you reply back in a shaky voice.

His smirk, though flashed centuries apart from the Sylus you know now, is still familiar and cheeky. 

“Run away with me,” he decided, straightening up to tangle his fingers with yours, squeezing your hands tightly. “Run away with me and let us forget this horrendous fate, my love.” 

Tears pool in your eyes, and you touch your belly, as if holding onto it for strength. “My love, my brother will be back and he will wonder where I am. It is not safe for you here. He knows what you have done to me—” your grip tightens further on your belly, “—and he wants his revenge for the grave error you have caused my family and I. You need to run—”

The touching scene is interrupted by a man clearing his throat. The both of you look up to find the wounded eyes of your brother searing through the two of you. 

“Sylus,” Valentine snarled, and your lover is quick to hide you behind his broad build, unsheathing his sword. 

“Do not harm her,” Sylus’ tone is low and menacing. “Your sister had no part in this debauchery. It is me you want.” 

Your brother's eyes, so similar to your own, flash with a hunger for Sylus’ end and he swings the sword first. A bloody fight ensues, one man battling for your honor and the other for your love. Your cries go unheard, as if they are alike to the stone statues observing these conflicts with a detached eye.

“Sylus—noooo!” 

His blade sinks into Valentine’s chest, cherry red blood spewing out onto the stone floors. You drop to your knees, cradling your belly in anguish as you cry out your brother’s name over and over again. Your brother’s blood seeps through your hands, staining your snowy white nightgown as you fail to staunch his life from leaving his shuddering body. 

He’s dead… oh gods… he’s dead… My last family member is dead!

Devastated, you run off barefoot into the night, rocks and dirt cutting through the delicate soles of your feet as you scream and cry like a madwoman. 

Sylus has killed my brother… he’s killed my mother…

This cursed child in your womb! 

You want nothing more than to pull it from the flesh of your being, leaving it straggling and dying for breath. You want nothing of Sylus in you—there is an absence of everything warm and good in your shivering chest. All you desire for is his demise from this world. 

Hurling yourself into an empty church, you stagger to the sanctuary, climbing the steps and crumble into a desperate, sobbing heap. 

Tears drip down to the stone floor, and your sobs echo around the vacant space. Saint Verona gazes down upon you, heavenly in her glow of flowing blonde hair and esoteric glare, stoic and silent, as if she too has abandoned you from God’s good graces. A bubbling laughter filled with nothing but terror and hysteria bounces across the church’s walls and you cackle, tearing at your hair, your clothes, fists raining down onto your belly as you try to rid yourself of the monster’s child. 

The scene changes. 

Scorching earth fills your nose, and in your hand, a dagger prevails. 

There’s a thundering of hooves, like a battalion of horses fighting in the distance, ringing through your hollow ears. The ground shakes and trembles from the force of the hundred horses, but when you look up, you see a familiar pair of red eyes burning through the dark mists surrounding him. 

His name comes to you in a flash.

Sylus.

Those crimson orbs seem to float through the smoky composition of his face, though if you look closer, you can see the translucent demonic skin stretching over his towering form appearing in fleeting instances—proof that he was once human. 

You glare at him, getting to your feet and wield the dagger, aiming it straight for his heart.

The second the pointed tip sinks into his chest, the world explodes in a shock of white light, and you’re back in the same, decrepit pantheon. 

There is no longer a child inside of you, just hatred tearing through your heart as you bare your teeth at his demonic form, not afraid so much as devastated by his betrayal.

“You hurt me.” 

Your voice rings through the empty halls with the conviction of an entire jury waiting to declare him guilty. 

Sylus doesn’t respond, merely taking one step towards you. His demonic form towers above you by a few feet, but you tilt your head upright in defiance, unwilling to back down and grovel for a man who had left you in the lurch; abandoning you when you needed him the most.

A clawed hand drifts from his side, and you flinch when he touches your cheek, tracing his finger down to your jaw. The mists swirling around him recoil, as if waiting in anticipation.

“I’ve missed you.” His voice is a low croak, vibrating through your chest with the strength of his despair. 

You shrink back from his touch, the baleful glare on your lips never fading. 

“Why? After what you’ve done… after what you did to me…”

“I never intended for you to get caught in the crossfire,” he rumbled, taking one step closer to you. The tendrils of black mist move with him, and you feel them reaching out to you, caressing your arms, your hair. 

One of them touches your cheek, and you’re surprised to find it warm and pulsing, as if human blood ran through its dark haze. 

The tendril reaches to touch your lips, and those crimson eyes burn through the dark night, remaining steady on you. 

“I only wanted to make sure you were safe. That is why I made the deal with Mephisto.” 

You shake at the name of that cursed demon who had stolen your lover’s humanity. 

“And why should I believe you now?” 

Though in his demonic form, there are still bits of his humanity flickering through the amorphous slate of his once face. You can almost see his lips twisting into a frown, the desperation besmirching his brow with a furrow. 

“Do you think I would’ve done this—any of this—if it weren’t for you?” Sylus takes one thundering step towards you, close enough for you to reach out and brush his translucent skin. “I love you! I love you so much, my beloved and here you are, boldly claiming I want to destroy you. It is absurd.”

“It is not absurd!” you cry out, raising your fists and slamming them onto his chest. “You took everything away from me! You stole my livelihood, my sanity, my… my family!” 

Sylus caught you in time as your strength gives out and you crumple in front of him, tears seeping down your cheeks and staining your frock. 

“Our child… you didn’t even search for me when you found out the truth…”

Your hands clench above your hollow belly. 

For a palm with such immense size and width, it cups your face gently, bringing his face closer to yours, the love he feels for you desperately trying to bridge the distance. 

“I made sure to speak to the underworld lords. Our baby is currently in paradise now, my love. Nothing can hurt her. Her soul is free,” his voice breaks at the reminder of the price he had to pay to protect you and the child you both made out of love. The price of his soul, bartered and bargained for with the devil himself so his human lover would never feel an ounce of pain in her life again. 

You shake your head, tears staining the stone floor with dark droplets. “The price is too high, Sylus. It is too much. I should be taking on some of the burden—”

“You will remain in the above world, my love,” he reprimands you without an afterthought. “I will not ask you for much except to continue living as you would if I didn’t exist.” 

What’s left of his human conscience aches at the reminder of what he has to say next. “You are free to love, free to get married, have more children if you like… Your freedom has been bought and paid for. You don’t have to suffer anymore, Y/N. It is done.”

He stands after a second of hesitation, but you desperately reach out for him, grasping onto his broad shoulders. 

“I can’t live without you.” More tears gloss over your eyes, and you hiccup the truth through quivering lips. “Please. Sylus. There has to be a way we can be together.” 

He remains silent, impassive in the face of your desperate plea. 

The tendrils hovering around you are softer this time when they reach out to stroke your hair, grazing your cheeks and neck, leaving shivers of heat running up your spine. Effortlessly, like you weigh next to nothing, the wrap around your body, lifting you off the ground. 

Your back meets stone, and your hands are tethered above your head by the dark mist, the aching silence too much for you to handle.

“Sylus…” 

The sound of his name from your lips will never not be the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. 

Despite being dark and imposing in his demonic form, it doesn’t scare you a single bit when he moves closer, face hovering inches from yours. The tendrils now stroke your bare thighs, feeling the tensing of your muscles under his touch, wrapping around your shapely calves to spread them wider.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers, low and inquisitive, filling your parted mouth with his hot breath.

You nod, unable to speak, but the devotion in your eyes never wavers. 

“Yes. With all my heart and soul.” 

Your soul. Sylus feels the last remaining stronghold of his patience snapping; he has to claim your body as his own. 

There is nothing lewd in his touch when he caresses your hips, moving his sweeping palms to your chest as he squeezes your heaving mounds. Sylus’ mouth finds refuge in your neck, kissing a fiery trail up to your jaw as he tastes you with his tongue.

Your whimper fuels his sick need to claim you over and over again until you bear his marks upon your skin. Sylus lets the tendrils do their part in undressing you; those wispy curls slithering underneath the straps of your dress, drawing them down to let him feast his eyes upon your naked chest.

And you take these transgressions he inflicts upon with barely a grimace, encouraging him with soft moans and groans as the snakelike mist curls around your breasts, teasing your nipples to stiff peaks. 

Sylus commands the mist to lift you higher, right at his mouth level and he takes his time to savor the taste of your skin—licking your tender nubs, biting down on them and leaving them stinging from the cold and his saliva. 

Your abdomen constricts, and he sweeps a hand down the taut line of your body, humming in appreciation. It’s like he can finally see and touch you without any distance between your bodies; despite his sheer size and non-human composition. 

For the first time since his perceived betrayal, you’re openly receiving him with your reactions and enthusiasm. 

Sylus, you groan his name like it's a mantra. 

The tendrils trickle to the split between your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress aside so he can appreciate the bareness of you beyond your inner shift. He doesn’t hesitate to tear off your clothes, hungering to feel your body quivering under his palms. When your bare body is revealed in the gossamer light, he takes a step back, eyes burning from how pure and sacred you look.

Inches of warm flesh, so different from the hardness of his own translucent skin, greets his claws and he takes his time to touch you; memorizing your shape and smoothness in case he may never encounter them in his existence again.

You throw your head back, baring your graceful neck, and his mouth sinks right into the tender skin, working a mark right on your pulse point.

“My love,” he groaned in between kisses. “My love. All mine.” 

Your hips begin to twitch, and he takes it as a sign that you’re begging for more attention right where you need him the most. 

He may be a demon, but as Sylus sinks to his knees, he feels like a sinner falling at your altar; taking you into his mouth like you’re the only covenant in the world he wants to keep. 

Trembles tear through you like an earthquake, and Sylus has to sink his claws in the plush flesh of your thighs to keep you steady.

He runs his tongue over your clit, through your folds, the weeping wetness of your need running down his mouth, his jaw. 

The taste of you pumps his veins full of ecstasy.

Your sounds, moans, cries all filling his stone dead heart with a staggering love one will never find in this universe. 

Feels so good… you feel amazing… 

Your desperate panting and moaning go straight to his fuzzy brain, and your hips are circling and undulating, desperately trying to get yourself off with his mouth.

Sylus doesn’t care. He wants you to use him; wants to be used by you thoroughly. 

Those blood red eyes flicker up the length of your body, taking in the tendrils still cruelly teasing your nipples, your quivering thighs and endless streams of moans signaling you’re right at the brink of your pleasure.

Giving your sensitive nub a tender kiss, he rises to his full height, and prepares for the final claiming.

The way your eyes widen when he reveals his cock nearly makes him laugh, and you gasp, flinching back at the sheer size and girth of him.

Close to a foot long, you’ve never seen such… length on an appendage quite like the one Sylus was carrying.

He noticed your gaping stare, the petrified silence, and laughed. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I will make sure to prep you very—” he takes one step closer, sinking his claws into your thigh. “—very,” you feel his lips brush underneath your ear, drawing a shiver of heat wracking through your body. “—very well.” 

He remained true to his word.

Sylus spent what felt like hours between your thighs, giving your orgasm after orgasm, using his tongue, teeth, claws, and the mist to get you spilling for him until your every pulse wracking through your body was starting to hurt.

Your cries were eventually muffled by the tendrils stuffing your mouth, the cross-eyed expression you wore making it harder for him to deny the need to absolutely claim you with no mercy. 

“No more,” your garbled plea reaches his ears, and Sylus leans back on his haunches, staring up at you with a raised brow. 

Your exhaustion manifests in the tired droop of your eyes, tugging right on his heartstrings.

“Oh, my. Looks like I’ve tired you out, my love.” 

Sylus gathered you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Your head lolls against his broad shoulder, the exertion wearing you out and making you susceptible to his next ploy. 

Lifting your hips, he tests the waters by sinking the tip of his tapered cock right into your heat. 

Your eyes flutter wide open, a gasp ripping past your lips. 

“Sy,” you stammered, and he shushes you. 

Pain. A neverending stretch. 

Your gasp is fused with panic, and you shake in your bonds, your body seizing.

“N-no… it can’t fit… it can’t…”

“Ssh.” He kisses your tears away, soothing your worries with his palms on your cheeks, thumbs stroking your jaw. “I’ll go slow, my love. I won’t hurt you.”

You hiccup and give a little, teary nod. 

Sylus smiled at your adorable surrender, staying true to his promise and taking his time to slowly ease inside of you. 

Without much effort, he’s halfway in and you gape, unable to believe you can take all of him in one go. 

A mist tendril helps to keep your body keyed up for him, playing with your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub until you begin to shiver and shake. 

You clench your hands into fists, unable to break the bonds that hold you fast to the sensations; that tie you down to Sylus.

He nips and licks at your throat, growling under his breath as his cock endeavors to plunge inside of you.

The need to fully bottom out, to have all of him buried inside of you is much too lustful of a temptation to surrender.

Sylus needs to see you struggling to make him fit. He needs to hear you say the words that will give yourself fully to him. 

Oh… Sylus… oh gods… gods…

“No gods, my love,” he bites down on your earlobe, drawing a full-body shiver from you. “Just me.”

His crimson eyes glance down to where you’re connected, and he huffs a sound of satisfaction.

“Look at that perfect cunt, my love,” he guides you to look down, enjoying how your eyes widen and your breath falls out in a desperate puff. “She’s taking me so well… you’re taking me so well…”

One more inch, and the ritual will be complete. 

Sylus can see the tip of his cock pushing against your stomach, and the idea of him being so deep, so intimately connected with you, makes his heart lurch and the blood rush to his ears.

“Gods!” 

Your scream echoed around the pantheon, both a revelry and blasphemy at once. 

His grip around your hips tightened, long fingers overlapping around your smaller figure as he waits for you to stop squirming, his jaw set tightly so he doesn't lose control of his urges and unintentionally hurt you. 

“Darling,” his warning comes out as a low rumble. “Please, cease your movements. I am barely holding on by a thread.”

Your lachrymose eyes trail upwards to him, and something in his chest tightens at the look of pure trust and devotion you give him. 

Tentatively, he shifts his hips forward, giving a gentle thrust to test the waters.

You respond instantly, back arching and hands turning into white-knuckled fists above your head that he thinks you might accidentally snap off your fingers. Your clenched jaw and quivering thighs fuel him to pick up the pace, and soon, the decrepit hall is filled with the sounds of your bodies messily meeting.

Each thrust he gives you makes your belly bulge, the sheer size of him driving you to the brink of madness as your eyes roll back into your skull, your mouth falling open and tongue slightly dangling past your lower lip.

He lives for the blissful look on your face, increasing his movements until he feels that familiar knot tightening deep in his body. 

“You feel like a dream, my love,” his whisper lights up the lust-tinged room with a flicker of innocent love—a great divide bridging closer and closer from the power of his devotion to you. 

The mists move by his command, pleasuring your erogenous zones—tugging and flicking your nipples, grazing firm circles on your clit.

Sylus needs you to be at the edge with him; needs to have you trust him enough to go off the deep end with someone as corrupted and wicked as himself. 

Your choked gasps and stuttering hips bring about a whole new wave of love and fierce protection he feels for you. 

Tangling his claws in your hair, he pushes your face up to meet his, devouring your entire being with his soul-sucking kiss.

The earth shakes, the walls tremble, and debris clatters to the ground.

Your orgasm comes as a jagged cry, and you shatter around him for the final time tonight, digging your heels into his broader waist; nearly losing yourself from the sensation of being completely tiny in comparison to him. 

Warmth gushes inside of you. At first, you find it familiar—comforting, even.

But, it doesn’t stop. 

Sylus keeps spilling inside of you until you hallucinate his taste in the back of your throat—salty, and musky desire. 

His hips tremble with the force of his unholy release, snarls and gasps bouncing across the dilapidated walls demonically sinister. 

You should be afraid—you knew that. 

But, all you can feel in this moment is raging passion for the man who was once your entire world.

The mists release you and you tumble right into his arms, feeling much too small and weak in his massive arms. 

Sylus’ demon cock remains hard and unyielding inside of you, and you think you feel him sloshing about in your inner guts.

Your belly is completely swollen, protruding from the copious amount of cum you hold inside of you. 

It makes you shiver and keen at the strange yet welcomed sensation. Sylus, mortified, tries to pull himself out of you, but you shake your head, needing to hold him close.

He drags you to the ground, holding you steady in his hulking build, pushing what’s left of his human nose into your hair to take in your musky, sweet scent.

When you straighten to lift yourself from his cock, you wince and gasp at the amount of white that floods from your gaping hole, making you twitch and whine loudly. 

Sylus too, groans at the sight, his head thumping back onto the stone floor.

“You will be the death of me, darling.”

His claws gently drag through your hair, and you sigh, leaning into his touch no matter how diabolical it may be.

Silence resounds around two lovers who are simply enjoying each other’s company. You press your head to his chest and he plays with the ends of your hair, content to nuzzle and cuddle you like he used to do when he was still human.

The thought puts a damper on your high, and you exhale, twining your arms around him.

As if he can read your mind, Sylus’ grip on your frailer body tightens—unwilling to let you go.

“Extend your palm,” his hoarse mumble draws you up short, and your look of bewilderment is second only to the confusion when he materializes a ripe pomegranate right into your outstretched hand. 

Sylus’ claws wrap around your smaller hand as he curls your fingers around the rotund fruit, reluctant to let you go.

“This is part of our deal,” he rumbled. “Until I can manifest in a pure flesh form, I will come to you in your dreams. Eat this and think of me, my beloved, and I will be with you the very second I hear your call for me.”

You gaze at the fruit in confusion, about to open your mouth and speak when you realize he’s disappearing right in front of your eyes.

“Sylus!” 

Your desperate cries mingle with your pained exclamation when you tumble to the hard ground, the warmth and strength of his body no longer under yours. The pomegranate in your hand rolls into a dusty corner, but you turn a blind eye to it—unable to believe he is well and truly gone. 

“Sylus,” you begin to sob, clawing at the ground, as if you could dig up the stone flooring and bring him back into your arms. 

“Sylus, you promised me! You promised you would never leave… you… you promised…”

You promised…

You promised…

You promised…

“...promised…” 

Your eyes flutter open in the half-darkness. Tears are drying on your cheeks, soaking the pillow underneath you. 

Numbly, you touch your stomach, thinking you can still feel the imprint of him deep inside of you. The sheets are tangled around your legs, and the emptiness yawns like a pertinacious monster inside of you, clawing through your soul till you think you might go mad with need. 

“Sylus…”

You feel the shadows stirring, and without warning, his embrace returns to hold you tightly to his chest.

The familiar scent of him, coming back to you after lifetimes apart, destroys what’s left of your self-control.

You sob in his arms like a child, soaking his robe with your tears and sorrow.

Let it out, darling, he whispers in the darkness, those crimson eyes filling with grief and pain, his tears dripping into your hair. 

Let it out… let it all out… I’m here… I’m here…

“Sylus,” you gasp, digging your fingers into the soft material of his sleeping robe, as if your touch alone could ensure he never leaves you again. “Sylus… I’m so sorry… I’m so…”

“Ssh,” he cradles you in his arms, rocking you from side to side like how a father might soothe a terrified child. “Oh, darling. There is no need to apologize. There is no need.”

Your shuddering, muffled wails pierce through the quiet night, and his eyes squeeze close, unable to bear the thought of you suffering from the same memories that never ceased to keep him up till dawn.

All Sylus has ever wanted was to protect you, but sometimes, protection comes with knowledge and knowledge is, in his experience, nothing but pain. 

“Do you want to talk about this now or shall we wait till morning arrives?” 

He wants to give you the choice he never had—a chance to confront your past and shape your future together, releasing himself from centuries of limbo spent navigating uncertainty alone.

But, you shake your head tiredly, a telltale sign of where your headspace was tonight.

“No. Let’s do it in the morning.”

Your arms tighten around him and he implicitly reads your unease and trepidation, letting you curl your body deeper into his embrace.

Sylus pauses for a moment, finding his center in your embrace, knowing that despite the centuries of turmoil you've endured together, come morning, you'll still be by his side.

“Of course,” he whispers, his voice threading through the comforting silence that envelops you both. He gently kisses the top of your head.

“Till morning, then.”

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

dawn says: ngl i teared up writing this </3 goethe's 'faust' will always make me emo because all mans really wanted was to be loved by someone (and amass immense power but ... oh well ...)

i had to review a lot of notes on faust as well as this reddit post for reference in this piece so your reblogs and feedback will be extremely appreciated in return mwah

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, sentence structures and plot lines and claim it as yours. do not recommend and repost my stories on other platforms.

[writer-logbook]

How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide.

Intro : I love the 5-steps format, don’t mind me. Again, this essay is based on my personal experience.

Read in different genres. Ok, I know you’ve probably heard this advice more than you can count but did you ask yourself why it is so important ? You probably wonder ‘‘How reading some historical fiction will help me writing my sci-fi novel ?’’ For that simple reason my friend : they meet different purposes. You don’t know how to describe a castle ? It’s okay, historical fiction got your back. Because it aims at something more realistic and accurate, it would tend to be more specific and detailed when it comes to describing clothes, furniture, places and so on. Why ? Because, most of the time, THEY ACTUALLY EXISTED. Take a closer look at how it is done and draw your inspiration from it (but please avoid plagiarism it’s bad - and illegal)

Take notes and CLASSIFY them. To make reading somehow useful, you have to actually make it concious, which means you have to write things down to remember them. When I come across a description I like, I tend to takes notes of the figures of speech that are used and class them, so when I have to write a similar scene, I have an idea of what have been already used, and weither or not it achieved its goal. I am NOT talking about COPY another author’s style !!!! It’s about finding inspiration and new approaches. I also tend to take notes of the new words I wish to incoporate into my writing. The thesaurus is my new bestie.

Rewrite the same scene from different POVs. First of all, it’s fun. And it’s a really good way to spot quirky formulations. For instance, if you describe a ship, the captain’s POV should be different from that of a simple observer. The first one would be naming each part princisely whereas the other would only be admiring the surface without knowing anything. If the caption is the same for both POVs, maybe you should consider write your passage again (or have a good reason, like a strong amateurism for the mere observer). It’s go hand in hand with coherence - but it would be an essay for another time (maybe).

Read your text aloud. I put major emphasis on that one because it’s as underated as reading books for various genres. You have no idea how much we DON’T speak the way we write. Even dialogues are crafted in our stories - so make sure to give them proper attention. (i even read my email aloud but-). I KNOW how cringey it might be as I am doing it MYSELF but the benefits are worth the 35-minutes shame I endure from my own mess. Before you can shine, you have to polish (shout out to the one who said that first if it’s not me).

Take a step back. I strongly advice you to let some time pass before reading your text again and profreading it. It will cast a new light upon your work and with fresh eyes you’d be more likely able to spot what needs to be erased or rephrased.

That’s all for me today. Since I would be entering my proofreading phase for my writing contest, the next essay would probably about proofreading (with examples from my own novel ?). Unless someone wants me to write on a specific subject first.

Gentle reminder that I’m still French and not a native so please forgive my dubious grammar and outrageous mispellings.

[multific]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Hannibal Lecter x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Cannibalism, Smut, Murder +18!!!

Summary: You two were so different, yet still the same. 

"Mrs Lecter?" 

You turned and smiled at the woman. "Yes?" you asked with a soft tone when in reality you were fuming.

How dare she just come up to you out of the blue?!

How dare she interrupt your perfect evening?!

"Hi, My name is Lucy, and I'm a huge fan of your books." of course she was, your books are brilliant. "I truly believe you are a pioneer in the genre of horror-romance."

"Thank you very much." Of course you were, no one was as good as you.

"I was wondering if you could sign my book please?"

"No problem at all." you smiled so sweetly. Why would she even have the book with her?! You are in a restaurant! You quickly signed her book and she thanked you, with your smile still present you turned back and lifted your glass to your lips.

"No need to be angry, Darling." your husband chuckled as you looked into his eyes.

Reading the other as if you were open books was something that came to both of you naturally. 

"I'm here to celebrate our anniversary. Not at a meet and greet."

"Of course, but you have to indulge them a little. Make them think they are important so they keep coming back. You mastered that one, My Love."

"I believe it was you rubbing off on me. After all, it is 30 years we have known one another."

"And I knew you were trouble from the second I saw you. Cunning, manipulative, narcissistic, egoistic, psychotic. And yet you are stunning and mine." Hannibal lifted his glass as you clicked yours against his.

"Only yours." you smiled at him, this one, was not fake but a genuine one for your husband.

On your way home from the restaurant, it began to rain, you let out a long sigh as Hannibal was driving.

"Rain always makes me nostalgic," you said as he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. He stopped at a red light and you looked at him. "When you killed my stepfather... for me. It was also raining."

"He had it coming, he abused you and murdered your mother. I gave him a merciful end. One he didn't deserve."

"He deserved to suffer like I did, but it was not what I meant, Hannibal."

"Please, elaborate then."

"You killed him because he was about to kill me, you became my saviour, but it is not only that. I remember you tore him apart, you kept on cutting and breaking his bones. I should have been disgusted, yet all I could think about was the way your muscles tensed and the grunts you let out."

"So, I turned you on." he spoke as he turned a corner. "I figured, from the way you acted after."

"I never got naked so fast in my life. We made love in that pool of blood in front of the fireplace. I remember we were young and unsure. It was so hot, I could taste blood on your lips." you could recall the way he moved his hips, so amazing, he reached such depths inside you that you weren't even sure existed. 

But he could also recall the way you completely submit to him. You only ever done that to him, no one else gets to have control over you, but him.

"Why are you bringing this up now? It has been a very long time ago."

"Because I want you to do the same tonight. As my gift for our wedding anniversary, I wish to watch you hunt, break and cut and then, I want you to fuck me in the blood."

"We are very similar, My Love." he stopped the car, your eyes never leaving him. "I was thinking almost the same." he smiled as the window behind you rolled down.

"Hi there, I like a three-way, 500 for an hour." the woman behind you talked and you finally turned to look at her.

Prostitutes disgusted you, the way they looked at your husband made your blood boil, but you smiled at her. 

"How about a thousand and I get to watch?" Hannibal replied and you smirked.

The woman agreed and got into the backseat, having no idea what she was in for.

"Happy anniversary."

"I love you." you said as he began to drive again.

---

The next morning you wake up in your bed, under the warm sheets with the smell of food filling the air.

You slowly woke up as the blanket fell down your naked body.

You rolled out of bed, and got dressed in one of Hannibal's shirts before heading to the kitchen.

"Good morning." you said as he had his back turned towards you. You rounded the kitchen island and hugged him.

"Morning. I made your favourite for breakfast. Bacon with eggs."

You looked at the meat sizzling in the pan before looking up at Hannibal as he leaned down to kiss you.

"She truly was a pig." 

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[neil-gaiman]

Id like to let you know that I recently lost my annotated and very well-loved copy of Fragile Things in the San Diego Airport.

Rather, I lent it to a goth kid who'd been sitting next to me and wanted to know if I had an Android charger. I did. She plugged her phone in, and a pinhole light on the screen blinked into life. We both looked at the otherwise dead screen for a moment, and I asked her where she was flying to. New York, she said.

Then she asked me what book I was reading - Fragile Things, I told her, by the same guy who wrote Coraline. What's it *about*, though, she asked again.

Im at best a mediocre writer, so I rather gave her the book than trying to explain things myself. I figure some folks get Hugos for writing stories, and I should let 'em do it.

She didnt seem to mind my scribbles in the margins, and it was fun, watching a painted face that looked so somber and serious just a few minutes ago smile. A Study in Emerald had its surprising share of humour. After a while, I stopped paying attention and scrolled absentmindedly through my phone.

Then I hear my flight called - San Diego to Philadelphia, the boarding now, group C, C as in Coconut. I grab my bag, my phone, my ticket, pat my pockets down for my passport, my overstuffed backpack, precariously balanced on my carryon luggage, my headphone wires tangled in the strap of my purse and jerked out of my ears. I trot hastily over to the gate check - a smile, a beep, and I'm shuffled down the gangway and into the plane. My things stowed, and myself cozy against the window.

This was when I went to reach for my book, and realised that it was missing - still nestled comfortably in the hands of a 15-odd goth.

I miss my book. It had many memories in it, beyond the stories told there. My grandfather was still alive when i first read Fragile Things, and he was the one who gave it to me. But I hope that the kid who has it now will also love the stories you wrote. I hope maybe she will remember me and our little story, that we now share. Maybe she will also keep other memories of her own in there.

It seems an oddly fitting way for me to part with this book. It was an old fragile thing, given to me by a fragile man, and left to a child with whom i had only a fragile, tenuous connection.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into things, i don't know.

At any rate, if you read all this rambling, thank you mister Gaiman.

I hope it was the book she needed.

[miyukisu]

Breakfast in Bed .ᐟ

❤︎ | Trouble in paradise? Well, Sae has an early morning treat for you to fix that (2.5k wc) ╰ feat. itoshi sae (bllk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 8 | kinktober masterlist

tags - somnophilia, rare sweet sae, sweet and sensual smex, p in v, unprotected smex, p*rn with plot, pussay eating, pronebone, profanity

minors do not interact

"Don't bother coming home. Jerk."

Sae wasn't one to reread texts, but he was beyond restless with the way you two left things an hour ago. It wasn't his fault that he was being kept at work for longer than he would like. He knew you wouldn't believe him when he said that he was trying his best to get home to you.

He wanted to prove a point; he really did. That's why he found himself booking a flight last minute on a trip that takes place at ungodly hours of the night.

That meant his usual ride wouldn't be there to pick him up at the airport and drive him straight to your shared condo unit. The Sae Itoshi had to flag down a taxi and make his way home like an ordinary person.

Sae leaned back on to the worn out faux leather seat of the taxi. His brows were scrunched, already feeling the impending headache caused by the unplanned trip home.

But again, he had to prove a point.

A deep sigh fell from his chapped lips as he opened the door to your place. He quickly checked his watch which read 4:48 AM. He should've been asleep hours ago, but he was generous enough to lose sleep just so he could come home to you as soon as possible.

He pushed his luggage haphazardly to the side before slipping off his shoes. His jacket was next to come off and he simply threw it on the couch.

Sae had to rub the sleep from his face. He'd been yawning multiple times throughout his trip home and he let out one big yawn before opening the door to the bedroom.

As expected, you were fast asleep. You couldn't be bothered to stay on your side of the bed, seeing as how you took up the center all sprawled out and lying on your stomach. Sae watched your sleeping figure for a moment before gently closing the door behind him. He quietly made his way over to the foot of the bed, still observing you.

"Well, here I am. Brat," he muttered to himself. As much as he wanted to tell you that—it was better if he let you sleep. Not that he thought you looked adorable that way, but he wasn't about to wake you up to say something so... asshole-y.

Although, his mind wandered. He was unsure if it was because he always thought this way or because his mind was exhausted from all the traveling he did—but God, did you look ethereal in that silk night dress.

His eyes traced every curve hugged by the fabric. The tiny dress bunched up a bit by your waist, showing off the sorry excuse for panties that you wore to sleep.

He calls them that because it barely covered anything.

Finally, he understood why you were so frantic about him coming home as soon as he could. You missed him and he missed you. Though, "missed" felt like an understatement.

Sae needed you and it took him an awful ride back home to realize just that.

────────────

He had to be careful. Slowly, he let his knee dig into the mattress, the cushions dipping due to his weight. Sae plants both hands on either side of you as he attempts to hover above you. It was like a hungry lion about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.

He let his eyes roam your body, noting how he'll touch you without waking you up. Up close, he can see how your body rises up and down as you breathe. You looked so peaceful—a stark contrast of what you probably looked like earlier when quarreling with him over text.

A soft sigh escapes his lips. Sae was incredibly tired; he wanted nothing more than to plop down right beside you and snooze until morning. But, then again, he also had this urge.

A burgeoning urge to feel you—to touch you.

He took a single finger and traced the column of your back. Sae watched intently as your face scrunched up, annoyed by the unexpected stimulus.

But, much to his pleasure, that one touch made you shift from lying on your stomach and on to your back. He had to move away a bit to make sure you didn't hit him as you moved.

You were now facing him—mouth slightly agape—telling Sae that you were having a good night's rest. Hi gaze lingered on your face for a moment before it trailed down to where your clothes had bunched up even further.

That only made it harder for him to go to sleep.

Sae could be cheeky sometimes. He pulled the thin strap of your panties with two fingers before letting it go and hearing the 'snap' it made against your skin.

You softly grunted, annoyed that whatever it was that was bothering you hasn't gone away yet.

Truthfully, he found it quite amusing. His mind raced about what he was to do moving forward. But the longer he admired your body, the more sure he became of his choice.

Carefully, he pushed the fabric of your dress a little higher—just enough to show your belly button. He hooked his finger on the strap of your panties before pulling it down, slowly and steadily so as to not wake you up.

Once the flimsy fabric was out of sight, he stared at your lower half again—debating whether or not to continue. But he was already there, wasn't he?

As gently as he could, Sae pushed your leg away, opening you up for him. He had seen you countless of times before, but the sight of your glistening folds always seem to knock the air out of his lungs each time. You were a sight for sore eyes.

Cautiously, he traced your pussy with the pad of his thumb. That alone had him sucking through his teeth. He pressed your clit firmly causing you to squirm, but not enough to snap you out of your slumber.

"Fuck," he whispered into the chilly air of your shared bedroom. He liked foreplay as much as the next guy, but he was sure his dick was going to burst with how hard it was. He needed you now.

But he remembered how irritated you were earlier over the phone... perhaps, he could still be nice enough and prepare you even if just by a bit.

He dug in like a starved animal, lapping at your folds with a newfound enthusiasm you had never seen from him before when he ate you out. He was sure you'd laugh at him if you saw how famished he was for you. The stoic Sae Itoshi would never look so desperate like this.

But you were none the wiser about it, so he didn't care.

He suckled your clit relentlessly and you tried snapping your thighs close, but he made sure you kept them nicely opened up for him. Sae was growing impatient by the second, tongue darting in your hole at a quick pace.

You were already a mess for him. Surely, you should be ready for him at this point.

Sae gave your weeping pussy one last lick before hovering above you again. He could barely make out the expression you were making, but you were probably having the wildest dream right now. He softly patted your head—as if to soothe you—and ran his fingers through your hair.

In a rare show of gentle affection, the man leaned down and gave you a quick peck on your forehead. Somehow, that tiny action eased your expression—as though you knew who it was that gave you such a kiss.

With one hand supporting his weight, Sae used the other to free his aching cock from his sweats. He hissed upon feeling the air wrap around his sensitive skin.

He needed something warm, he thought. It just so happens that the perfect little pussy was right in front of him, waiting to be devoured.

Sae stroked himself a few times, easing himself up first before you'd suck him in without mercy.

He felt like a teenager all over again—biting his lip at such a mundane moment. Mundane—considering the other things you two have done in the past.

Soon as he lined up the tip against your entrance, he didn't wait another second. A guttural groan left him once his tip penetrated you. One swift push and he was halfway in.

It had him throwing his head back. This was new—this was definitely new.

"Sae?"

The faint sound of you calling out his name snapped him out of the immense pleasure he was feeling. Part of him felt a tad bit embarrassed that you caught him at his most vulnerable.

"Happy now? I'm home," he whispers. Although, he gives you no chance to respond—stuffing the rest of his length into you.

It felt like the stars aligned for him. The sun rose high enough at this hour that the light poured into the room. He could see more clearly the way your face contorted in bliss.

He pulled out again, only to sheath himself back to the hilt. He was used to fucking you stupid—purging the brattiness that he had to deal with on the daily. But, for some odd reason, he wanted to go slow today.

Sae leaned down again to give you another kiss on the forehead. He didn't feel all too embarrassed now. Besides, you were half-awake anyway.

"Slept well? You better 'cuz I may have missed you."

His words caused you to choke out a moan. "That's rich."

Usually, with a response like that, he'd start snapping his hips faster. But he controlled himself. You were always cranky in the morning after all.

"I know you missed me. Look at how well you take me." His eyes dart down to where you two were connected. A white ring had formed at the base of his cock and there was already a faint squelching sound every time he bucked his hips into you.

You clicked your tongue, annoyed that there was no way of denying the truth. It was hard to lie with his face close to yours and with his dick dragging along your walls so sweetly.

"You can lie all you want, but your pussy always tells me the truth," he whispers in your ear. Again, he cut you off—biting your earlobe gently.

The unusually slow and sensual pace threw you off, but you weren't complaining. He still hit that spot perfectly like he always did. And you kind of liked this—how he'd whisper sweet things to you, kiss your neck so desperately, and make love to you so tenderly.

Slow as he was, it still brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was quick to catch on it as you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you.

The rapid breathing that filled his ears made him impossibly harder. Neither did it help that you kept getting tighter and tighter around him. He wanted to last longer, but the quivering of your pussy caused by your first orgasm pushed him to climax with you. Sticky seed painted your walls.

It was romantic—kind of. He was only realizing that now.

After his climax died down slightly, it was then he felt the sting of your nails scratching his back earlier. Though it didn't bother him at all.

If anything—it only heightened the sensations he was feeling.

"Fuck... I didn't mean to—"

You coo at him. "It's okay. Don't be embarrassed."

Just like he did earlier, you patted his head—hair rather damp from the sweat that built up due to your activities.

But you were too quick to comfort him because he was still painfully hard even after coming once.

"Ah... Guess I won't be going back to sleep soon huh?"

Sae sighs deeply. "I can deal with it myself. You can go back to sleep if you want."

You knew he had a habit of dealing things by himself even with things in the bedroom. It killed him inside to say that; he wanted to do so much more to your compliant body.

As he was about to pull out, you hastily wrapped your legs around his torso to stop him.

"Goddamn."

Sae couldn't help but bury his face into your neck. Thank fuck you were just as insatiable as he was.

"Sleep can wait," you whisper back.

"Turn around then."

'What?" you asked.

"On your tummy. I wanna do something," he explained.

Reluctantly, you unclasped your legs, letting him pull out. Sae helped you turn to lie flat on your belly. Now, you understood what he wanted to do.

Instead of slapping your ass like he would usually do, he caressed it—admiring his favorite body part of yours. With two large hands, he spread you out for him.

The new position made more blood rush into his dick. He had to fuck you one more time or else it would get too painful again.

He sheathed himself back in. His dick stretched you out deliciously and you tried stifling your moans, planting your face into the mattress.

Sae began fucking you with the same pace as earlier. Every drag along your walls elicited a moan from you that went wasted—being muffled by the thick covers.

He kept you all spread out for him. The grip on your ass was almost bruising even though he had promised to be gentle today. It was simply impossible to not get ahead of himself.

No words were exchanged as he pounded you from behind. The exhaustion you both felt and the need to moan your heart out took precedence.

A groan rumbled from his chest. He was close again. He was coming again way too fast for his liking. Sae was starting to think his dick was having problems, but maybe it was just your tight and warm cunt making him go haywire.

"Fuck... what did you do to me?" he wondered before a deep groan rumbled from his chest.

In response, you came abruptly—coating his length with your juices. You let out your most vulgar moan that morning. Your neighbors would have definitely heard if it weren't for the bed suppressing most of the volume.

You've had too many complaints in the past.

"Hahhh... waking up the neighbors? What a dirty fucking girl you are. Take it—take it all."

His hips began to go at a staccato pace, going out of beat once in a while in anticipation of his incoming high.

With one final thrust of his hips into you—he came so much like he hadn't just emptied himself in your cunt earlier. A warm sensation flooded your pussy again.

Sae swore that if he had time to rest after the match and before getting on that plane, he wouldn't be pathetically lying on top of you like this. He swore that he wouldn't collapse after coming a measly 2 times.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note The ending is so ass. I don't know how to end these things wtf

[dropsnectar]

Your Puppy Siren!: When a Siren becomes a House Husband

PART TWO

NSFW

Obviously, when Baby got his legs, you couldn't just abandon him. You weren't sure exactly what was next for the two of you,, so you took it one step of a time. Baby had an issue with that, as balance wasn't necessarily a skill he could magic up with his oceanic enchantments.

He leaned on you the whole way home, taking jerky steps through the grasses.

When you showed him around the house, and the first thing he did was ask where you slept. You had shown him your bedroom and he immediately made himself comfortable about the blankets and pillows. You set him up with a copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe”, before going to make him dinner: mild Japanese curry. 

It was mostly vegetables, as you had only had a few ounces of ground beef left, but you hoped his stomach was as human as his now legs. His whole body had changed, leaving him now almost albino pale, with large dark eyes that were still a bit too big for his human face.

When you went to walk him to the dining room table, you found him standing, holding the book to the ceiling as he read. He was leaning back and forth on each foot, as if the movement kept him upright. Perhaps he still had his sea legs under all that new skin. 

He still needed your help to get to the table but his steps were more sure now. He ate the food happily, making sure to compliment you whenever possible. On the way back to your room, Baby could now keep his balance as he went. The first thing he did was gather as many pillows and blankets as he could from the living room, before leading you by the hand to your room, and arranging them further on the bed.

“Do you like it?” He asked, eyes eager. It had never occurred to you that Sirens may nest, but you took it in stride.

“It looks very warm.” you apeased, tired. 

Sleeping on the nest didn't go as bad as you thought, but Baby had been a bit confused when you had tucked a blanket around the two of you

“It's to keep us warm.” 

He had responded by pulling you to his arms and wrapping his legs around you.

“I can do that just fine.” He beamed. You laughed and let him hold you as you fell asleep. You could figure out Baby's fate tommorrow.

You had always pushed off the deciding of Baby's fate to tommorrow. You couldn't face it. Going to your part time job, then nursing school had been difficult for you. You were exhausted everyday you came back home.

Baby made himself as useful as he could. You had taught him some of the basics of cleaning the house. He had seemed somewhat confused by the idea of cleaning, but he took it upon himself to make sure the place was gleaming when you got home. You had taken him to the library a day after his legs sprung up, and he had carried home a pile of books, one of them being “Martha Stawarts Complete Guide to Housekeeping”.

 You hadn't resided in the place long, but places you hadn't even realized were dirty were suddenly sparkling and smelling lightly of lavender and orange peels. 

He had also brought home a whole pile of fish. It seemed that he could now shift his form back and forth at will. You remember coming home, sweat covered and in need of ibuprofen, when you found a pile of fish on the kitchen table. He had looked so proud if himself.

“We can keep them all in the freezer! What a useful device!”

You had gently taken his arms in hand and explained that humans weren't able to eat fish whole like sirens could. They had to be stripped of their scales and deboned. He seemed a bit tired by this, yet another a strange human quirk, but had taken it in stride. Per his request you had set him up with an instructional video on the subject. 

He seemed to catch on pretty quickly, the only difference was that rather than using a sharp knife, he had preferred to use his talon like nails. They were retractable, he clarified later, and arguing they were cleaner than any knife when you had demanded he washed his hands before working.

“They will only get dirty again anyway!” He had argued, one of the few times he had ever done anything but smile at you. The concept of germs was met with raised eyebrows and apprehension. 

For the first time in your life, you gave him “the look”. As this seemed to be a communication move that spanned species, he gave in, washing his talons? Claws? Before going back to his work.

A silent system had begun to flesh itself out. You brought home the money and groceries, and did most of the cooking, he did everything else. And anything you asked of him. Which wasn't much, but he became more and more useful by the day. 

You couldn't help but feel a bit proud for Baby. The more you learned about him and Siren Life the more different the two of you seemed. But he had been adjusting so well, you almost didn't have to worry about him. Plus, it was hard to be mad at someone who made a point of taking care of you, like he did. 

He gave you shoulder messages, microwaved old dinners when you didn't feel like eating. Hed shush you, and sometimes carry you to bed, petting your hair and singing you to sleep everytime everything felt like too much. And that was often. 

It had been a week since he had taken up shop in your bedroom, and reality reared its big fat head like a snake. You had been whisked away to bed, and instead of cooing at you and humming that impossibly sweet voice of his, he had started to nibble on the side of your neck, hands reaching towards your pajama shorts. His tongue felt so incredibly good, and his touch was like silk, but you knew where this would leave.

“Stop. We don't have any protection.”

He had frozen and blinked at you, expression changing to the barely concealed mask of an adult trying to not laugh at a child's sudden declaration.

“If I sense any danger, I will deal with it immediately. Now come here…” His voice grew husky. You trailed back.

“I know we haven't talked about this before but what if… well you're a human so im not sure if it'll be the same but… I can't get pregnant. I don't know if it works the old fashion way or you might lay eggs in me or something but… we need to be careful.”

He was still smiling but he was biting his lip. “While I DO lay eggs, that part of me hasn't changed, I don't understand why it would be an issue. I am your husband, after all, shouldn't it be normal to have children at some point?”

“H-husband? Why do you think you're my husband?”

Babys face changed, the closest you had ever seen him get to upset. “We mated, we share a nest, how am I NOT your husband?”

“We had sex, yeah, but we didn't get married. Do Sirens mate for life? Is that why you think this?” 

His expression grew animated and confused.

“Sirens do not mate for life, we have breeding seasons. But Humans mate for life, do they not? Why do you think I have been doing all this? I mean, I even made you a nest and you slept with me in it! How much more is their to a human marriage ritual?” 

You stared at him, the realization dawning. You slowly put your hand over his and arranged your expression to one of patience.

“Humans used to mate for life. But ita a bit different now. We can have sex, even spend years courting before we agree to marry.”

Baby just stared at you, his confusion and anger turning to one of hurt.

“B-but what does that mean? I told you, I love you. I want to be with you.” He leaned forward tears starting to glisten at the corner of his eyes.

“I wanted a life with you. I threw my old life away the moment I got these legs. I have no idea where my pod is now, I can not return to them. I do not wish to return. I want to stay here, with you and be your mate.” He nuzzled his nose against yours and then took your cheeks in his hand. He gazed into your eyes, filled with longing.

“I may be new to being your partner; at being Human too. But I will do whatever you ask of me. Please. Be mine?” 

He started to kiss your forehead. Then your eyes. Then your cheeks. His gaze strayed to your lips and he whined out, full blown tears now streaming from his eyes. 

“I'll be so good. So good for you.” 

Your heart went out to him. You had to admit, life had gotten so much easier to bear since he had entered it. No one could make you laugh like he could, could make you as curious as he could, could kiss you like he could. 

You thought about it. Genuinely thought about it. You had a job, and nursing would pay you enough to pay for both of your lives once you started. You'd have to teach him how to properly navigate human society but he was so smart and charming, you were sure he would do so well. You came up with so many reasons why it could be doable, but the most important one was you didn't want to let him go.

“It'll be really hard for you. Are you sure you want this?” You whispered. “Want… me? You could spend the rest of your life sharing your season with mate after mate. Are you sure you would want to spend the rest of your days with me?”

He looked at you with intensity, the light finally dawning across his features. 

“It will always be you.” And then he was on you. Was kissing you.

He was quick to take off your clothes, and did the same. His mouth was hot and needy, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth being everything you could ever want. That was except for one or two other places. 

As if he could read your mind, he grinned, pulling himself down to stare at your groin, fingers grasping, teasing and exploring every sensitive curve and crevice. Then he got to work with his mouth and you groaned, your core turning molten. You could hear the noises of his mouth on your flesh, and it made your cheeks overheat. 

His tongue glided around you as he sucked with his full mouth, making you shake and jerk under him. He made sure to pin you down with his hands now, before he started to trill and sing around you.

You chocked, pushing your hips up against his big string hands, which were now a mix of grey and white. It seems he had been riled up to, as his form was caught halfway between human and Siren. It was a new sight and he was absolutely gorgeous and one long note made you crash over the edge, toes and fingers curling. 

The whole time his eyes were on you, gauging your reaction. He continued to auck you through the high but now started clawing at your entrance, circling slick little shapes. He seemed to take great joy in this, teasing your ache, before he plunged his fingers in making you choke and sigh all at once. When he was certain the area was worked enough, he gave you big puppy dog eyes. 

“Can I be yours again?” He whispered huskies slowing the rate of his fingers. You nodded and he pulled himself up, pumping his own cock a few times making sure it was properly slick. His cock was half transformed too. It was extremely veins and the ridges weren't as pronounced, but he was thicker. You licked your lips as you remembered how he felt inside you.

Aware that you were watching him he keened in pride. He then slowly inserted himself, pushing further and further until you took every inch of him. You gasped out and clawed at the sheets in pleasure as he pumped you, his own eyes glazing over as he unleashed low, pornagraphic moans. He was louder than he had ever been, snapping his hips into yours, fingers clutching deep into skin. He looked completely blissed out as he rocked himself into you, huffing and moaning.

“Sound. So. Beautiful.” You breathed, knowing he was getting close. You could feel a heaviness now in the air. He wouldn't be able to help it. He'd be so drunk he'd use that song of his and you'd cum and cum for him until he was too far in exctasy to make any noise. And you were right.

You could tell he was holding it in. But he couldn't help but hum out, a song that seemed to cup and penatrate your very soul, making your entire mind stuffy and silly. You didn't want him to stop, going over the edge as another one of his moans turned into a full blown note. He kept bucking into you, skin slapping skin, as he keened and hummed and sang out for you. He wanted you to feel good. Wanted you to cum and feel good only for him. Because you were his.

When you felt his cum splash inside you it was warm, and more sludge like. It took a while to seep put of you. A comedic point in the back of your mind noted, “No eggs”. 

He pulled himself to your side, pulling you tight to him. “Can… can I stay in you for a while?” He said it in a light begging tone. You nodded, a pulse of faraway pleasure as he pushed his soft dick inside you again. It felt nice, being one with him in this sweet comfortable moment.

You wanted to ask him about the magic, about the song and how for just a moment, it was like you could read his mind. But their was something so special about the moment, you didn't want to push him too far. Maybe next time, you could egg him on to use that power on you, to be completely encompassed by his pleasure and song. 

“I know your tired, and we can wait but… can we do it again?” He pushed his nose to yours and traced it up and down, his eyes watery and begging. You could feel his dick twitch inside you. 

“Please just let me spoil you. It is our wedding night after all…”

You had to stop yourself from correcting him. Tomorrow you would explain vows and wedding ceremony, but for now you'd just give in. But you had to admit, now a big piece of you belonged only to him.. So, in a way he had been right.

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

[artbyblastweave]

A few years ago, there was a thread on r/asksciencefiction where someone was fishing for a superhero story with an inverted Omni-Man dynamic, or a setting where Homelander's initial presentation is played straight- a setting where the Superman figure actually is the paragon of morality he's initially presented as, but no other superhero is- a situation where you've got one really competent true-blue hero standing head-and-shoulders in power above what's otherwise a complete nest of vipers.

Someone in the thread floated My Hero Academia; while I haven't read it, my understanding is that that's not really an accurate read of what's going on with Stain's neurosis about All-Might being the only "real hero," that the point of that arc is that Stain's got an insane and unreasonable standard and that taking an endorsement deal, while bad, isn't actually grounds for execution. My own contribution to the thread was Gail Simone's Welcome to Tranquility, where a major part of the backstory involved the faux Justice-League's Superman analogue having a little accident because he's the only one who thought they were morally obligated to go public with the secret life-extending macguffin that the rest of the team is using to enforce comic-book time on themselves and their loved ones; while only a couple members of the team are directly in on it, the rest are conveniently incurious. And Jupiter's Legacy gets tantalizingly close to this- The Utopian, a well-meaning stick-in-the-mud, ultimately gets blindsided and couped by his scheming brother who creates a superhero junta staffed by a Kingdom-Come-style glut of third-gen superheroes, who are framed as fundamentally self-interested because only came onto the scene after most of the situations you legitimately need a superhero to handle have been neutralized. (The rub, of course, is that the comic is also highly critical of the Utopian's intellectually incurious self-righteously 'apolitical' approach to superheroism- if for no other reason than that it left him in a position to get blindsided by a coup!) While Jupiter's Legacy gets the closest, all three of these are only loosely orbiting around the spirit of the original idea, and there's something really interesting there- particularly if the Superman figure isn't hopelessly naive in the same way as Utopian. Because first of all, if you're Metaman or Amazingman or whatever brand-name alias the writer goes with, and you really earnestly mean it, and you put together a team of all the other most powerful heroes on earth in order to pool your resources, and then with dawning horror you gradually begin to realize that everyone in the room besides yourself is a fascist or a con artist or abuser or any other variant of a kid with a magnifying glass eyeing that anthill called Earth- What the hell is your next move?

Do you just call the whole thing off? Can you trust that they'll actually go home if you call the whole thing off? I mean you've put the idea in their heads, are you sure that they aren't going to, like, start the Crime Syndicate in your absence? Do you stick around to try and enact containment, see if getting all of these people on a team makes them easier to keep on a leash? But that's functionally going to make you their enabler pretty quickly, right? Overlooking "should you kill them-" can you kill them? You're stronger than any individual one of them- are you stronger than all of them? The first time one of them really crosses a line in a way you can't ignore- will that be a one-on-one fight? Are they the kind of people capable of putting two-and-two together and pre-emptively ganging up on you if you push back too hard? Do you just start trying to get them killed, or keep them at each other's throats so they can't coordinate anything really nasty? Can you squeeze any positive moral utility out of them, or is that just a way to justify not doing the hard work of taking them down? There've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that Superman in specific would be a good person, and there've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that superheroes in general would be good people. Something to be done, I think, with questioning the default assumption that everyone Superman becomes professionally close to would be good, and to explore how he'd handle it if they weren't.

[wordsarelife]

—karma

pairing: theo nott x fem!hufflepuff reader (a weasley sibling)

summary: karma is the way you wear his jersey, making sure his team will lose the game

warnings: sexual references, reader is implied to be shorter than theo

notes: i imagined the jersey a bit more like a basketball one or a lacrosse trikot

“here” theo was holding a folded shirt in your direction. you had been sitting on his bed for the past hour, leaning against the bed frame while you were reading your book.

he had spent the time laying with his head in your lap, enjoying your fingers combing through his curls, until he had stood up a few minutes ago.

“what?” you asked looking up from your book. it took you a few seconds to register that the piece of fabric in his hand was his quidditch jersey.

“here” he repeated, throwing it down on the bed.

“yeah, i heard that” you smiled, unfolding the shirt to inspect it further “is something wrong with it? does it have a hole you want me to fix or something?”

theo laughed unamused at your bad joke. “i think i have enough magical knowledge to fix it myself if it had a hole” he shook his head “i want you to wear it tonight”

“tonight?” you asked and he nodded. he was dead serious and you began to laugh. “no” you shook your head “absolutely not”

“come on, baby” he pleaded, sitting down in front of you, pushing the fabric in your direction.

“it wouldn’t be as much of a problem if you guys were playing against ravenclaw or even hufflepuff, i could care less then. but you’re playing against gryffindor, you’re playing against my brothers”

“so what about it?” theo was trying to let his eyes appear bigger than they were, knowing that it would actually help his case.

“what about it?” you repeated laughing, not falling for his tactic of manipulation “everything is wrong with that. even my house will probably be offended when they see me wearing a slytherin jersey. i mean no one really cheers for slytherin, apart from, yeah you guessed it, slytherin”

it was no secret that every house had a bit of a distaste for slytherin. even your house, hufflepuff, which was normally filled with generous and nice people, was cheering for gryffindor. and of course your brothers and your sister were in gryffindor, so it only added to the appeal of cheering for them.

“they would not” theo shook his head “and that’s offensive! a lot of people want us to win, people that aren’t in slytherin”

“name three people” you said, crossing your arms and wearing a winning smile. he was searching for words but eventually just gave up.

“baby” he muttered with that sweet voice he only used when you guys were.. let’s just say in private. you hated to admit it, but it made you weak in the knees.

“theo” you whined, noticing his hand finding a place on your thigh and his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin beneath your skirt “it’s probably way too big, it’ll look weird”

“you could never look weird” theo muttered.

you rolled your eyes, knowing that he had already tricked you into agreeing, the soft kisses he was pestering all over your face also did not help you to stay strong. “okay” you sighed, feeling satisfaction at the big smile that broke out on your boyfriends face.

you pushed the shirt into your bag next to the bed, going back to your book, theo happily cuddling back into your lap.

well, you thought, if you had to wear his shirt, their might also be a way to have fun with it and secure gryffindor’s win in doing so.

even if that way meant to possibly embarrass you in front of the whole school, including your siblings.

but what had do be done.. had to be done, or atleast you figured as much. and in the end, most of them would probably thank you for doing what was needed to make sure gryffindor won. because even though no one wanted to see slytherin win, everyone had to admit that they were strong opponents.

it was just a few hours later, that you parted ways with theo, going back to your dorm to get ready for the match.

“hey, y/n!” hannah, your roommate greeted when she saw you walk through the door.

you repeated the greeting, before you took the jersey from your bag, holding it up in front of her. “do you want to help gryffindor to win tonight?”

she smiled brightly at you, already figuring that you had something mischievous planned by how you were smiling.

it took about an hour to get you ready for the game. hannah did her best in helping you. you had put on a bit of makeup and curled your hair, but hannah had made the most important move, sticking the jersey close to your body, so that it was fitting like a tight dress, not leaving much to the imagining or much fabric to flow down your legs. you were glad that it was long enough to cover your arse, but also not long enough to keep theo’s eyes off of you.

he always got weak when he could see your legs and he had told you before that it was hard to keep his eyes away when you were wearing something tight, making him remember that there was only a thin fabric keeping your body clothed.

tonight you would use that to your advantage.

you were lucky that it was still summer, making it possible after all to wear something so revealing.

you and hannah walked into the direction of the stadium, before she hugged you goodbye quickly, walking off into the hufflepuff stand, while you walked towards where your brother and sister and your friends were sitting in the gryffindor stand. if that alone didn’t make you enemy of the night you weren’t sure what did. it was really a bit daring, sitting in the middle of the gryffindors, while wearing a slytherin jersey, but you knew that you would stick out to theo even more that way.

you slid in the seat in between ron and ginny, greeting them.

“woah” ron raised his hand, looking you up and down “what are you wearing?” his eyes had grown bigger once they had reached the end of your made up dress, probably expecting it to be a tad bit longer.

“what?” ginny asked “i think she looks terrific!”

“she does” hermione smiled next to ron.

ron could not believe what he was hearing. “are you hearing yourselves? she’s literally wearing a slytherin jers— whatever that even is”

“he boyfriend plays for slytherin” hermione shrugged, matter of factly.

ron was busy ignoring hermione and shrugging off his thin jacket. he put it around you shoulders quickly. “you’re basically naked” he argued “please cover yourself at least a bit”

“that’s slut-shaming” ginny crossed her arms and ron looked horrified at that. you almost had to laugh at your brothers expression.

“i-i didn’t mean” ron stuttered, trying to justify what he had said “i wasn’t calling you a slut, i swear”

“i know” you interrupted his rambling “it’s alright ron, i’ll wear the jacket if it makes you happy, it’ll work even better then”

“what will work?” hermione was now bending over ron, ever so interested in what you had planned.

“well, gryffindor will win tonight, let’s just say that”

“i like the sound of that” ginny rubbed her hands together.

“cheating isn’t fair, y/n” hermione furrowed her eyebrows “nor is it allowed”

“i know, hermione” you laughed “and we won’t cheat, i promise. it just happens to be amazing for me and very bad for him that my boyfriend is incredibly attracted to me”

“you’re gonna distract him with seduction?” ginny asked and she was even more excited than you. you nodded and she grinned.

“ew” ron grimaced “can’t you please keep that kind of stuff behind closed doors? i don’t want to see your boyfriend get a hard-on in the middle of the quidditch field”

you furrowed your eyebrows at your brother. “do you want to win or not?”

he seemed unsure, but then eventually nodded.

“that’s what i thought” you smiled, patting his head “it will be over faster than you will even notice it happening, i promise”

“sure” ron muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

there wasn’t time to argue about anything else, because the game began.

the minute the teams flew onto the field you were looking for theo, trying to spot him in the haze of green uniforms. your eyes landed on him eventually and you smiled.

as if he could feel your eyes on him, he turned his head at you. you took that as the perfect opportunity to get rid of ron’s jacket, pulling down the jersey a bit so your cleavage was showing. you could practically watch him slowly lose his mind.

“it’s working” ginny muttered next to you

“i know” you smirked, noticing that theo was still standing perfectly still, watching you across the field.

mattheo, who had noticed his friend had frozen in the middle of the field, took it upon himself to shake theo from his trance.

“what’s wrong with you?” he asked, pinching the boys elbow.

theo did not answer mattheos question so the latter tried to simply follow the eyes of his friend.

“shit” mattheo muttered when he noticed you sitting in the front row of the gryffindor stands, basically wearing nothing. “fuck” he added “this is even too much for me”

that seemed to have been enough to free theo from his trance “what the fuck, riddle?”

“i’m just a man” mattheo shrugged. he then just narrowly escaped theo’s hand, that had been coming close to hit him.

“get it together, man” theo rolled his eyes, concentrating back on the game, but still having you in the back of his mind.

for the first half of the game, slytherin and gryffindor were close to each other considering points, when one of them had one more, the other quickly scored the next, always keeping them even.

“i don’t think it’s working” ron said after some time of eyes jumping between either side of the field.

“it will” you assured.

and you would be right. during the second half of the game, the sides were switched and theo was now much closer to you, making it even harder for him to not look at you.

you turned your head to the slytherin side, smiling at theo and also involuntarily mattheo, who was flying next to your boyfriend.

theo was caught up in the moment once again, watching the way you flipped your hair over your shoulder or the way your lips moved as you threw a kiss in his direction.

a movement next to him made him perk up. it was mattheo once again.

“did you just catch my girlfriends kiss?” theo asked offended and a bit surprised at the same time.

“..no?” mattheo lied.

“stop lying i saw you do it” theo muttered “stop looking at her”

“how do you know the kiss wasn’t supposed for me?” mattheo asked and theo was surprised that he seemed to actually be serious.

“you mean how i know that my girlfriends kiss wasn’t for you? take a wild guess, mate”

mattheo rolled his eyes, giving theo the peace and quiet to continue looking at you.

madam hooch blew the whistle, indicating that the second half of the game had begone. while everyone started moving, mattheo and theo stayed right where they were.

their staring was eventually interrupted by one very angry malfoy. “hey idiots!” he called and theo and mattheo turned to him in surprise “how about you concentrate on the fucking game and make out with y/n later?”

“sure” mattheo and theo answered at the same time.

theo send mattheo an angry look. “you are not going to make out with my girlfriend”

“we don’t know what she’s into yet” mattheo shrugged, once again dodging a slap from his friend.

“oh we do know” theo assured, before he flew across the field, picking up his position again.

the rest of the game was going a lot less smoother than the first half. theo was missing almost every goal he was trying to throw, accidentally hitting enzo once, almost making the boy fall of the broom.

it seemed that whatever enzo did, had made him the victim of theo and mattheo slipping up. mattheo actually managed to hit enzo’s broom with a bludger, almost making him fall down onto the field. luckily blaise had been able to stabalise the broom before it could come to that.

to your surprise neither fred or george came over to ridicule you for wearing the jersey. of course you knew that they were much more laid back than ron, but more often than not they liked to play the big brothers and give theo a hard time. even if they secretly liked him.

they seemed delighted at your plan working the way it did, using theo’s distraction to their advantage, scoring multiple points in a row.

“what’s wrong with the both of you?” blaise muttered absentmindedly, when he had to, once again, call for enzo to move before mattheo’s bludger could hit him.

by the end of the game, slytherin was behind by a hundred points, enzo had a black eye from the one time theo had accidentally succeeded in hitting him instead of the goal, mattheo and theo had flown into each other multiple times and ron was wearing an impressed smile.

“well, look at that” ron said, after you had finished cheering for gryffindors win “who would’ve thought that would work?”

“eh.. me?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“me too” ginny added, hugging you from behind “our sister is a genius, ron”

“that was actually really smart” hermione complimented and you smiled at her approval.

“thanks guys” you nodded “i better go apologize to theo now though. here’s your jacket”

ron was grimacing once again “you can keep it. better put it on before you go down there”

“yeah” you nodded, before you excused yourself, rushing down the stand in the direction of the slytherin changing room.

theo was leaning against the wall, seemingly already expecting you. he was rubbing his arm and you were guessing that he probably had a few marks from crashing into mattheo that many times.

“hey, baby” you smiled.

he was not looking happy, but you knew that he wasn’t actually angry.

“you played really well” you softly held him by the neck.

“we lost” theo muttered, like you were offending him.

“i know” you lay your head to the side “but you still did your best”

“i played like a goddamn beginner” theo furrowed his eyebrow “don’t act so innocent now, i know what you had in mind”

“do you?” you smirked up at him and he was going feral by the way you quickly closed and opened your eyes, suggesting you did not know what he was talking about.

“yeah” he muttered “and it’s super unfair” his fingers down went to the zipper of ron’s jacket “and what’s even more unfair is that you’re all covered now”

“i don’t have to make sure you lose a game now” you added

“oh, totally” theo nodded “my bad”

“you know i love you baby” you whispered into his ear “so i did what you asked me to do”

theo shook his head, impressed how you could still spin this to be his own fault. “i guess you’re right” he finally gave in. “how about we go back to the castle? i still have to shower”

“i knew you wouldn’t be able to be mad at me” you smiled. “but is enzo alright?”

“he will be fine” theo said a bit too quickly. as if to prove his words to be utter bullshit, enzo walked out of the door behind the both of you, holding a cold pack to his bruising eye.

“hey y/n” he greeted once he had been able to recognize you with his other eye.

“hi enzo” you smiled sympathetically “i’m sorry about your eye and everything”

“it’s alright” enzo smiled and you were impressed that he was still this calm after literally being beat up by his best friends.

“sorry” you cringed again as you watched him walk away. he waved at you from afar. “you really did a number on him”

“totally matt’s fault” theo excused.

“totally” you nodded “so will matt be joining us for the shower?” you joked, hinting at the way the boy had been staring at you the entire time, even going as far as catching the kiss that you had clearly send in theo’s direction.

“don’t even start” theo muttered, taking your hand in his and starting to walk up back to the castle.

“maybe i should wear your jersey more often”

“we’ll burn it after this”

you giggled, before you quickened your pace to keep up with him. “maybe just in private” you assured, kissing his cheek.

theo smiled and you mirrored his expression. “i guess that would be alright”

[agirlwithglam]

I recently realized I have to stop sulking over my life but I struggle with embodying my dream self sm ughh

Do you have any tips?

Ok, what would ur highest self do RIGHT NOW? Like if she was going through sulking and not feeling her best, how would she tackle it? What would she do?

Take it slow, give yourself some rest, write down goals, make a to do list.

If you’re still stuck, here’s mini action plans for you🍰

🍓 1. Goals.

What’s your mega goal- what do you want from life? To be a doctor, have a business, what is it? (Try not to make it too vague)

Next, find out the things you need to get done to achieve this goal. So if you want to build a big business, you probably need money, a good product to sell, business & salesman knowledge, etc.

Once you got that, now figure out how you’ll achieve those things- for example; you need business or salesmen knowledge? Read books, listen to podcasts, watch videos, ask people around you for tips, etc. so that’s what you can start with, everyday listening to a podcast or reading a chapter will definitely bring you closer to that goal.

Then it’s just basically practice and consistency. Keep going, don’t give up! Make a to do list for each day, but don’t forget to add rewards as well.

🍓 2. Take it slow, prioritise your mental health.

Are you feeling okay? Is your health good? Have you been exercising, eating well, getting a good amount of sleep? Sometimes it’s just not taking care of yourself properly which can make you struggle and feel stuck!

So go, put on a face mask, do some yoga or exercise, whatever floats your boat, read, shower, and take a nap. Then when you feel better, do the Goals part.

🍓 3. Find the small happinesses in life.

You’re sulking? Maybe then take a day off and just become a child again. Go out for a walk (if you can & it’s safe), go for a swim with your friends, just laugh and have fun without another care in the world.

Be your inner child! Have fun!

Anyways I hoped that helped, I have a bunch of other stuff on self improvement & becoming your best self so u can read that too and also: watch thewizardliz or Tam Kaur or anything good yt, it helps.

Xoxoxoxoxo

[puckinghischier]

Quick Study

Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

WARNING: SMUT! minors DNI. 18+. unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem!recieving, oral m!receiving, p in v, smut with the smallest sliver of plot. praise kink if you squint sideways and upside down.

summary: quinn loves to help you experience new things

notes: so…i don’t know what happened i think i blacked out tbh. this is kinda on theme with the request but also kinda not?? more so inexperienced!reader than in innocent!reader. idk my fingers had a mind of their own okay? enjoy 🫶🏼

request: I read a post that headcanons Quinn getting off on teaching you things and how to do things well, and that has just convinced me he has a thing for innocence… feel like that could be a great premise for smut

[4.4k]

Quinn has always been praised for his patience and willingness to teach those around him. It’s likely what landed him his new captain residency, but he likes teaching. He always said if he didn’t make it in the league he’d like to be a teacher and a coach, spreading his knowledge of history and hockey to the next generation.

What he didn’t realize until he met you, though, was how much he really enjoyed teaching.

He loved explaining the game to you, seeing your eagerness to pay attention and learn for him. Watching you glance at the cheat sheet he made you on your phone during games, making sure you’re able to keep up with the various penalties called, has him puffing out his chest a bit.

He loved explaining to you the most recent book he was reading, telling you all about the time period and the historical context of whatever story piqued his interest that week. He’d notice the empty space on the bookshelf after he finishes the book, glancing over to your side of the bed to discover the book with your bookmark tucked neatly between its pages, heart swelling when you’d bring it up over dinner, wanting to learn about his interests.

What he loved the most, though, was figuring out everything he could teach you.

He knew when the two of you first met that you were fairly inexperienced, not having ever really dated much before, but once he realized how inexperienced you really were? His mind went wild with the possibilities.

There was a certain pride he felt in being the person to guide you through all of these new experiences, never rushing you, always making sure you were one hundred percent comfortable before he tried anything new. He encouraged you to ask as many questions as you needed, telling you there’s never any reason to feel embarrassed around him.

He’d note the way you’d sit there and take in every word as he explained the different scenarios and sensations certain actions could elicit from your body, eyes wide and hungry. The second he would open the conversation for any questions or clarifications he could see the nervousness creep in, almost retracting into yourself out of embarrassment.

“I just…I don’t know exactly what you mean. You can…you know…feel that just from your mouth?” you’d ask him, voice barely above a whisper and eyes darting all over the room.

“Oh, darling, I can’t wait for you to experience the amount of things I can make you feel with my mouth,” he would nearly groan out, both angered and thankful that no other guy you’ve ever been with allowed you to experience all that the body has to offer.

Your cheeks would instantly heat, but not out of embarrassment. Quinn could see the gears turning in your head, the slight adjustment of your thighs coming closer together hinting to him how much you’re enjoying the picture painted in your head.

The day you told Quinn you had never experienced an orgasm, though? He was nearly seeing red.

“What do you mean you’ve never ‘gotten there’” he repeated your own words, not realizing the harsh tone of his voice until you looked away from him, watching your face contort into an expression of guilt.

“I- I don’t know. I mean, the couple of times I’ve actually…you know…went there with a guy, it never really happened. I guess I was doing something wrong, I don’t know,” you spoke softly, shrugging meekly.

Quinn took a deep breath, calming himself the way he would on the ice, before scooting closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You could never do anything wrong, you hear me? The fact that the fools you were with before were too sorry to make sure you were taken care of, and apparently didn’t know what the hell foreplay was, is not your fault.”

Nodding slowly, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and chewed on it lightly. “I think…I want you to show me,” you said so quietly Quinn thought he imagined it.

“Say that again?” he needed you to clarify, wanting to make sure he’s not just hearing what his dick wants to hear.

You inhale, preparing yourself to put on your brave face and finally find the courage to tell a guy what you want. “I want you to show me. Teach me what it’s like. I want to experience it with you.”

And damn. If that didn’t get Quinn’s dick rock fucking hard. The idea of showing you everything you’ve been missing, everything he knows he can make you feel? He could almost come right here on the couch, never even having to touch your skin.

Quinn didn’t say a word, simply grabbing your hand and prompting you to stand, leading you to the bedroom that was practically shared at this point, considering how often you stayed at his apartment.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you and looking down at your big, round eyes. He had to remind himself this was about you, and not to get too ahead of himself.

Bringing a hand up to caress your face, brushing away a small strand of hair, he rests his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your soft, pink lips. Using the slightest bit of pressure, he wedges his thumb in-between them, causing them to part just enough for him to slip it into your warm and inviting mouth.

He feels your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger, never once breaking eye contact with him. He closes his eyes, the image in front of him overloading his brain. The second you start to suckle on the rough pad of his digit, he jerks his hand back, surprising you.

“Sorry, did I do something wro-“

“No, never,” he interrupts you, voice low and gravely. “But this is about you and I can’t let myself get carried away.”

Opening his eyes, he sees the flush come back to your cheeks, watching the outline of your tongue rolling around in your cheek. “I want to learn,” you look at him with pleading eyes.

“I know, baby, we’re gonna get there, promise,” he assures you, catching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You shake your head back and forth, “No, I want to learn how to please you.”

Quinn can feel every ounce of blood in his body make its way straight to his already near painful cock. The innocence and eagerness on your face making his knees buckle.

“I’ve never…given a…a blowjob before,” you stuttered, your bashfulness from earlier coming back. “I never felt like I’d do a good job, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone and scare them away, so I always said no. But I want you to teach me. Please?” you pleaded, using your eyes to convey your willingness.

If there was ever a world record for how fast a man can come without even being touched, Quinn would say he’s a pretty close contender right now.

He clears his throat, trying to choke down the groan that nearly came out. “I- uh. Are you sure?” is all he’s able to sigh out, feeling like an idiot because he can’t even form words.

You nod your head silently, not knowing if you could find the courage to ask again.

“Fuck, baby,” Quinn shudders, swallowing thickly, bringing a hand down to readjust himself in his sweats.

Figuring you need to show some sort of initiative, you bring your hand up to replace his, cupping him over the thin material.

Quinn’s entire body jerks forward at the feeling of your small hand covering him, resting his hands on your shoulders for support.

Your breath catches, not expecting to receive such a reaction from him, but it only encourages you to keep going, squeezing just enough to apply a slight pressure to his length.

Quinn grunts, shuddering at the sensation. “Fuck, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice, a slight whine but still deep and powerful, shoots a bolt of arousal straight between your legs. You start stroking his still clothed shaft, enjoying teasing him.

“Show me what to do, Q,” you whisper seductively, his actions only growing your confidence in your actions.

With his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, he wastes no time in moving your hand and ripping the sweatpants down so roughly his dick literally springs free. He sighs at the lack of constriction, creating a sweet friction with his own hand.

Seeing him bare for the first time, you feel the extra saliva form in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around him and find out how his skin tastes.

Too lost in the beauty of the man in front of you, you don’t realize he’s gazing down at you, watching how in awe you are of him.

“Babygirl, you can’t look at me like that and expect me to last longer than three seconds once you start touching me,” he snaps you out of your daze, drawing your eyes to his face.

You blush, focusing on the bedroom floor to hide your eyes from him.

Bringing his hand back up to your face, he forces you to look up at him, the intensity of the moment making you squirm.

“Touch me,” he commands, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your chin.

Following his instructions, you grasp him in your hand again, moving your hand gently across the textured skin.

You pump slowly, waiting for Quinn to tell you your next move.

“Shit, faster,” is all he whimpered, moving his hips to meet your motions.

Moving your wrist a little faster, you’re so taken with the sounds he’s making you hardly feel the bruising grip he has on your shoulder, grounding himself to you.

“Quinn, wanna taste you,” you whined, watching the precum leak from his pink tip, tongue darting out to lick your lips in anticipation.

“Okay, just-” he shudders, interrupted by a moan, “just, no teeth. And don’t take too much, hollow your mouth out a bit, and keep using your hand if you need to.”

Belly swirling with nerves and excitement, you position yourself a little farther onto the edge of the bed, face to face with his strained cock.

Taking a deep breathe, you test the waters by placing a chaste kiss on his tip, licking the salty precum off of your lips. Opening your mouth, you take the plunge and follow his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as your mouth rolls over his length, your tongue feeling the weight of his thickness.

You look up at him as he watches you, waiting for any hint of praise in what you’re doing, wanting to make sure you’re doing it right.

“Shit, just like that, baby, keep going,” he encourages, feeling you stop when his tip tickles the back of your throat.

You will yourself not to gag, enjoying the feeling of your tongue against his cock too much. Trying to combat the feeling, you swirl your tongue around him, feeling every ridge and vein.

Quinn is fighting against every muscle in his body, from wanting to bring his hands to your head and push your mouth further onto him, to wanting to snap his hips forward and bury his dick in your throat.

“Can move a bit if you want,” he hisses out as your tongue runs across his sensitive tip once again. “Doing so good, though. Feels unreal. Don’t know how you’ve never done this before.”

You want to smile, but can’t with your mouth full of him, so you start bobbing your head instead, slow and careful. You bring your hand up to cup his balls, remembering one of your friends telling you guys seem to like that.

Quinn jerks his hips forward at the feeling, not being able to control his actions at that point, dangerously close to blowing his load down your throat.

He removes himself from your mouth, watching the spit trail down your chin. The sight is so pornographic he almost finishes anyways, digging his nails into his palms as a distraction.

“Was-,” you start, wiping the dribble off of your mouth, “was I not doing it right? I remember someone telling me once guys liked when you touched them like that. Did I scrape you with my teeth? Did I-“ your hoarse voice is abruptly cut off by Quinn shoving his hands under your arms and lifting you to your feet.

“You were amazing. Too good. If you would’ve kept doing that for even thirty more seconds I would have come in your mouth, and while the thought drives me insane, there’s only one place I want to come tonight,” he tells you, bringing his hand down to untie your soft pajama pants as he finishes his sentence, fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your stomach.

You suck in a sharp breathe as he starts rolling the pants down your hips, exposing your simple, cotton underwear.

“Well, if I knew this is what we were doing tonight I would’ve dressed more appropriately,” you said softly, wanting nothing more than to bring your arms down to cover the exposed skin.

Quinn chuckles. “You could be wearing a diaper for all I care. I’d still be rock hard at the sight of you like this.”

“Weird, but sweet?” you respond, trying to break up the intensity you feel as you kick the bottoms off of your feet.

Amused smile on his face, Quinn shakes his head at you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the thin material.

You shake your head yes, knowing there’s no going back after this moment.

“Words, babydoll, ‘member?” he mumbles, staring at your taut nipples through the shirt.

“Yes. To everything. I trust you,” you breathe out.

Quinn’s heart jumps to his throat, surprised at how excited the confession makes him. Knowing he has your complete and total trust with something as important as this adds a whole new level to what he’s about to experience with you.

The shirt is over your head before you can think twice, standing almost bare in front of him.

“Shit baby, knew you were stunning,” he starts but pauses, letting his eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin. “but think you were painted just for me,” he worships your body, trailing his fingers over the dips in your collar bones in awe, watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Your turn,” you whisper, feeling the flush on your cheeks, not wanting to be the only one on display.

Not being able to take his eyes off of the smooth skin of your body, he removes the rest of his clothing before you can even blink, staring at the toned man standing in front of you.

Of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, considering he never likes to wear a shirt to bed, and having spent a weekend at his lake home a few months ago. But to see him completely naked before you is a sight you never want to forget.

Breaking the stare you both hold on each other, he moves your body to lay down on the bed, guiding you to move further up the bed as he crawls over you, stopping when your head rests on one of the million pillows.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he pants from above you, bringing his mouth down to place wet kisses along your neck.

You inhale deeply, the feeling lighting all of your nerves on fire.

Too distracted by the feeling of his tongue darting out to swirl along your skin, you don’t notice his hand has made its way to the band of your underwear, slipping a finger just under the barrier.

“Off, take them off,” you pant out, wanting the fabric gone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obeys, sliding the material off of your body in record time.

Quinn forgot everything he was supposed to be doing when he saw you bare before him. He could practically smell your arousal, watching your pussy glisten in the low light of the bedroom.

“Bet you taste so good, hmm?” he rasped out, sounding like a man starved.

Squirming, your body fights to find some sort of friction to ease the ache between your legs, never having felt so turned on before.

“What do I need to do? Tell me what to do, Quinny,” you whimper, wanting to know what you’re supposed to be doing, desperate for relief.

Your desperation makes his cock throb, having forgot how hard he was, too distracted by you. But to watch you writhe and whine and look to him for guidance makes him painfully aware of how much this is all affecting him.

“Absolutely nothing. Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, darling,” he all but pants, licking his lips like he’s about to eat a five-star meal.

He moves his body down yours, shamelessly dragging his lips down your warm skin, taking his time and savoring every inch.

Once he reaches your soaking cunt, he teases you with hot breaths, wanting to admire every fold and crevice before exploring you with his mouth.

Placing small kisses on both thighs, letting his scruff scratch the sensitive skin, he finally lets his mouth find your core.

Licking a clean stripe up from your hole to your clit, he grips onto your legs, baffled by how good you taste on his tongue. He dives in like he’s never known such a luxury, slurping and sucking every inch of your perfect pussy.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, the pleasure overwhelming. You don’t know what to do with yourself, feeling like you’re flailing your limbs all over the place. Moaning and grunting, Quinn can sense your frustration with not knowing how to express your pleasure.

“Touch my hair. Pull it, tug it, hold on to it. Whatever you need to do. Just touch me,” he instructs you, the vibration of his words on your clit causing you to cry out, tangling both hands into his soft hair.

Quinn groans at the delicious pull on his scalp as you use his hair as your outlet, feeling his dick brush against the comforter as it twitches. He starts to grind against the mattress, not enough to push him over the edge, but enough to provide him with temporary relief.

He continues his assault on your dripping core, not caring if he were to drown in your arousal, loving how it practically leaks out of you, not wasting a single drop.

Once he feels you’re ready, he brings a finger up, slipping it inside of you and feeling your walls instantly clench around him. The sensation only drives him further, burying his nose deeper into you, if that was even possible.

Pumping his finger in and out of you slowly, he adds a second, ensuring you’re ready for him in the minutes yet to come.

Arching your back at the fullness of two of his long, thick fingers, you carry out a particularly rough tug of his hair, earning a moan so loud you want to do whatever you can to hear it again.

“Feel so good, Q. Never – ah! – knew I could feel like this,” you groaned, digging your heels into the bare skin of his shoulders.

“C’mon, know you’re almost there. Gotta let go f’me,” he grunts against you, feeling the flutter of your walls around him.

The unfamiliar pit in your stomach grows at his voice, never wanting him to stop talking to you.

“Oh, like that, huh? Like when I talk to you, pretty girl? Like when I use my voice while pressed up against your pussy?” Quinn asks you, feeling how you clenched when he spoke.

His vulgarness made the ball of pleasure grow even larger, threatening to pop at any moment.

Quinn hummed against your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, inhaling just enough to create a small vacuum of suction.

The new feeling caused something inside of you to explode, a pleasure burning throughout your whole body so intense you think you lose your hearing for a few moments.

Quinn rides you through your orgasm, licking and sucking every drop of physical pleasure from your body. When he removes his mouth from you, you’re laying limp under him, the look of bliss on your face sparking a feeling of pride within him.

You have no clue what just happened to your body, not registering a single thing until you felt Quinn’s fingers running through your damp hair, fluttering your heavy lids open.

“There she is. Thought you went and fell asleep on me,” he chuckles, caressing your bright red cheek.

“mmmm” you hummed out. “Think I can taste colors. What did you just do to me?” you ask him, starting to gain control over your body again.

Quinn full on laughs at you, hiding his face in his bicep. “I think that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me,” he marvels down at your state, knowing he was the first man to ever make you feel like this.

You’re trying to think of a clever or sexy response, but get distracted by something poking your leg. Looking down, you notice how hard and red Quinn’s dick is, remembering that he never finished earlier when you had him in your mouth.

“Oh!” you say in surprise, drawing attention to his…situation.

“What can I say? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he references your intense release.

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed. “Well, I can think of something hotter,” you say quietly, reaching your hand down to grab his length.

Quinn gasps as the contact, the most sensitive he thinks he’s ever been.

“Now I want to watch you,” you can recognize the sound of your voice, not knowing what having an orgasm did to you.

Crashing his mouth onto yours, the first time he’s kissed you all night, your grips falls from his shaft, bringing your hands up to pull his shoulders closer to your body. The friction of his skin on your hard nipples alone is about to drive you over the edge again.

“Gonna wreck you, you know that? Wreck you like you’ve wrecked me,” Quinn says on your lips, bringing your bottom lip between his teeth before letting it snap back into place.

You don’t know where the sudden rush and roughness came from, but you can’t say you’re disappointed. Something within him snapped hearing you express wanting to watch him come undone under your influence, and Quinn can’t control himself anymore.

“Show me, Q. Show me what I’ve missed all this time,” your mouth is operating on a mind of its own, not sure what part of your brain has been unlocked by Quinn’s magical mouth.

Quinn growls, hiking your leg up to rest around his waist, leaving the other flat on the bed, standing on his knees as he brings his hand to line himself up with your still dripping cunt, causing your hands to fall from his body. His own hand finds one of your full breasts, toying with the nipple, causing a sharp gasp to fall from your lips.

“Ready?” his voice goes soft for a second, wanting to make sure you’re still good.

“Please,” you whine in response, shaking your head yes.

As he slowly sinks himself into you, he realizes that he’s found his new favorite place. Buried deep inside of your heat, the warm squeeze against his rigid cock, is what he was put on this earth to enjoy, he thinks to himself.

Your whimpers are the perfect soundtrack as he slides himself in and out of your slick, worried he’ll slip right out if he pulls out too much. The ease with which he glides through convinces him you were made for him. Every inch of you, made to be ruined by him.

“Tell me how to move,” you moan out. “Tell me how to make this – shit! – better for you. Teach me.”

Just like before, hearing you whine and beg for him to teach you, wanting to learn from him, has him losing all of his resolve. He completely slips himself out of you, slamming back into you with such force it takes your breathe away.

Hearing your gasp, Quinn brings his hand down, pressing on your lower belly to intensify the feeling of how deep he is inside of you right now.

“You’re perfect. Doing so good f’me. Best little student ever, know exactly what to do without even being told,” Quinn praises you, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Just wanna make you feel good, Q. Don’t wanna take all the fun for myself,” you respond to him, bringing your arms back up to the skin of his broad shoulders, raking your nails down the clammy skin, not realizing the burn of your nails down his back is the final string for Quinn.

He cries out, not wanting to come before you, but he’s so close he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.

Mustering all the resolve he has left, he removes his hand from your belly, bringing it down to circle your clit, pinching it every so lightly.

He feels it the second you reach your second release tonight, the squeeze of your walls as they clench around him making it impossible for him to pull out, triggering his own orgasm to leave his body and leak into you in spurts.

His body shakes from the sensation, letting out some of the most pornographic noises even he’s ever heard. And he was once a teenage boy with unlimited access to the internet.

The two of you come down from your highs together, Quinn’s hand letting your leg fall back down onto the bed, and slowly removing his softening cock from you, both of you whining at the loss of contact.

He flops down next to you, needing a moment to recover before he made any move to clean either of you up.

“So…that’s what I’ve missed out on for all these years?” you asked out loud through shallow breaths, not even turning your head to look at Quinn.

Quinn managed a small laugh, replying with a small “Told you it was them, not you.”

You turned on your side to finally look at your sexed out boyfriend, admiring the way his hair was damp with sweat and his lip was swollen and red from biting it out of pleasure.

“Well…I don’t think I quite grasped the concept. I think we need to do it again,” you proposed. “You know, for study purposes,” you shrugged.

And Quinn knew you were (mostly) joking, but he’ll be damned if his dick wasn’t already half hard again, not knowing what he was going to do with you now. A monster of his own creation.  

[dont-look-its-embarrassing]

To Be Seen

Azriel x Reader

This is my first ever one-shot or fanfiction type writing on here, so be patient with me bc it will be FAR from perfect or good.

This is purely self-indulgent bc again, I'm new at this and just wanted to write an insert or y/n type little blurb.

Summary; Being the best friend of Feyre when she was human, you regretfully got roped in and turned with her sisters as a tool for manipulation by Hybern. As the sister's find it hard to settle in claiming the attention of the two other bats, you attempt to make Feyre's and the inner court's life easier by flying under the radar and figuring it out on your own. However, are you really as unnoticed as you hope or is a certain shadowsinger entrapped by your caring and soft nature as his heart battles his mind for the third sister or you.

Warnings: None really, mentions of PTSD and anxiety, loneliness and self-help, slow-burn, slight angst with a fluffy ending, reader just wants to be seen but feels like she can't ask

Word count: 2,389

Pt2

The sound of a door opening broke you out of your thoughts as you sat in the drawing room in the house of wind. The gentle crackle of the fire Infront of you allowed your body to sit comfortably within the rather cold season and the book you were just reading sat loose in your lap. You haven't gotten used to your enhanced hearing yet as your now longer and thicker hair gently fell from where you had tucked it behind your ear.

"Y/n?" Your best friend's voice echoed into the room as her footsteps followed. A soft smile spread across your features as she came in, confirmed you where there, and plopped down ungraciously on the couch next to you. "Thank the mother you are here."

Her features where stressed, the worry written all over her face as she took your form in.

"What's going on?" You ask, hopeful to help.

Feyre let out a sigh as she let her eyes wonder to the fire Infront of the both of you.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know, it seems that everything I do to try and help Nesta and Elaine seems to only make things worse." She rung her hands, a trait she picked up back in the human lands when she was nervous or upset. "It just never seems enough to make them comfortable or to try and apologize for everything that happened."

Your best friend's eyes slightly widened as she took her gaze from the flames.

"How are you? Are you doing okay?" The genuine care and concern oozing off of the female Infront of you reminded you of why you cared so much about your friend in the first place. When she was taken, you had searched high and low for her in hopes to get her back only to have her return happy and healthy with a loving man, or male, doting on her every need. You were ecstatic, and expressed yourself as so, even if it was with fae beings. When you and her sisters were taken, that happiness was put on hold to make sure that you are all where comfortable. Feyre's self-sacrificing nature did always drive you mad, even now when she was so close to being truly happy.

"I'm okay Feyre." She shot you a look, trying to dig deeper and call the bluff you made. "Seriously, I'm here with you and in an amazing place that I could only dream of with great people."

"A lot happened Y/n. A lot happened to Elaine and Nesta, but a lot happened to you." She was right, and it was weird for you to be so put together when the worlds of the other two were falling to pieces. With your more emotional and strong relationship with Feyre, you had been held captive with her sisters yes, but you also took the brunt of interrogation that the wicked king deemed necessary to gain any information of her court. You had put yourself in that position, you knew how awful she would feel about her familial blood being brutalized in such a way, so you took the heat. But, in the end, her sisters still took the change harder and refused to accept their new life, making everyone on edge and overexerting themselves to help.

With one look at your best friend's-tired eyes, you knew that she couldn't handle another burden. More like she shouldn't have to handle another burden.

The word tasted sour on your tongue.

Burden.

Shaking your head a small gentle smile graced your face, and you forced your features to emulate that same energy.

"I'm okay Feyre, really. Aside from some cool new power thing that I haven't figured out, I'm fine. " The breath she released could only register as relief in your mind as she met your smile.

"Okay, and we will definitely start working on that when we are all settled here." Her reassurance did little to reassure that it would be investigated. Again, with the two sisters gaining war altering abilities, your random energy (that had yet to manifest) would be put on the back burner until everyone else was settled. Again, the slight dismissal ached, but you understood the need for others to take precedence.

Giving a little nod, you two sit in silence for a bit just listening to the crackling of the fire and enjoying each other's presence. That is, until a wince rippled across your friends face and she slowly rose.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I think Elaine is out and not talking to Lucien and it's a mess-"

"It's fine Feyre, go make sure they are okay." You assure with the same smile. Giving one last 'thank you, I love you' she was gone like the wind that howled outside the windows. The silence that followed her exit had the ringing in your ears become a bit to unbearable. Removing yourself from the couch, you travel down to your room and grab a quick change of footwear.

Today would be a good day to explore the town, or at least good enough to get your mind out of the dark slump of trying to acclimate to its' new body and abilities.

Making your way towards the door, a small flicker of shadow catches your eye.

"Hello?" You call. You know that Rhys is most likely with Feyre and Azriel is also probably there because of Elaine, so you dismiss it quickly after a moment, chalking it up to just a trick of the light.

Opening the door, the slight chill on the wind has a shiver run through you, but the sun quickly chased it away. Breathing a sigh, you look at the vastness of the stairs below you.

No time like the present.

Taking one step at a time and avid breaks when needed, you would rather not admit to yourself just how much time that trek took. However, upon reaching the bottom, the satisfaction that filled you outweighed the journey. Walking down the streets of Velaris, the bustling normality of the people filled you with ease. As your heels clicked against the stones below, your gaze just missed the little shadow that trailed behind your body.

Taking in the colors and vibrant people, the ease and happiness that covered their faces had the ache in your gut grow more and more. Your mind wandered to if you would ever be that happy and mundane. With everything that had happened so far, the familiar life in the human forest (although had its struggles) seemed like an ideal. It was the lack of routine, lack of knowledge, the newly sprouted life, the misplacement, all of it plus more. You didn't notice your breathing gain more weight and take longer to fill your lungs than it did at the house. You also didn't notice the little skitter of the shadow that had followed you as it raced away towards some unseen location. The heat in your body seemed to increase as the sight of a simple family loving and walking together entered your mind.

Would anyone love you like this?

You couldn't think.

Ducking into a nearby ally, the overhead sheets and covering allowed it to be shaded and darker than the streets 20 feet away. Even then, the darkness of the ally seemed to illuminate with your presence there. However, it wasn't the light, it was the lack of grasp of oxygen you could inhale and the strenuous shaking your body couldn't stop. The tears that fell without your knowledge burned their tracks into your skin and sizzled as they hit the ground. Your body gave way to the spasms that took ahold of you as your mind raced. Burring your head into your knees, you attempted to shut the world out and let your mind slow but to no avail. You wished the darkness of the alley would swallow you whole, allow the sun and light to escape you being seen just this once.

Almost as if your prayers where in fact answered, the light surrounding you died as the darkness of the ally surrounded you. Picking your head up to view what cloud or magical being answered your plea, your eyes were met with those of hazel crouching Infront of you.

"Azriel?" You hadn't met this male for more than a couple days ago. He was nice, offering to go with you places or chat every so often. You had a couple nightly talks with him where you shared some stories between the two of you. Nothing out of the ordinary though, you felt safe around him when he was near. Confusion washed your features and for a moment your brain stopped running in circles and focused on why the male might be in front of you in this very unfortunate situation.

"You're okay." His large hands had gently pried your head from between your own. He Slowly, as if not to spook you further, reached for your hands and took them in his own. As twisted as it sounded, the morbid scarring that littered his skin grounded you further and pulled you back to this moment and out of that forsaken cell and cold water. "Focus on me, breathe."

The ease of your breath returned as the seeming dark cloud that surrounded you peeled back revealing that same dampened alleyway. However, the slight char on the walls and burns on the ground was distinct enough to question. Looking around, more of those marks surrounded you but faded as it got further from you. Opening your mouth to ask, a quick look from the male had you hesitant as he shook his head.

"One thing at a time sunshine." You nod, ignoring the small butterfly that hatched in your stomach at the nickname, but the pain in your head from the little outburst brought you back to reality. Bringing your hand up to caress the muscle between your eyes, Azriel scanned you from head to toe checking for any other possible injuries. "Let's get you back to the house, okay? Have Madja take a look at you and maybe give you something to help process."

Although the beginning of his statement was directed at you, for an answer, the second part was mumbled more to himself.

"Okay." The short response was all you could get past your lips as he sent you a small smile and opened his arms.

Looking at him questionably, he held back a chuckle.

"Have you never flown?" Shaking your head, no, you had never flown before. Winnowed? Yes, but never in the arms of one of the three males residing in the same house at you. The aspect of Azriel being your first had a little flush cover your cheeks. He approached you carefully, scanning your eyes for any aversion to being touched or space invaded. If you didn't just have a literally breakdown in the middle of Velaris, you could've sworn there was a deeper emotion residing in his eyes.

Guilt?

Worry?

Longing?

You couldn't place it and decided not to keep the process waiting. Taking a step towards him, he kept his arms spread out to accompany your space against his.

"Wrap your arms around me." His voice was lowered with your closer proximity. Slowly you brought your arms to wrap around the back of his neck. He waited until you settled there before moving to hoist you up into his arms and walk slightly out of the alley to give his wings more room to take flight.

While doing so, you couldn't help but settle into his warmth as it felt nice against our colder frame. With all the adrenaline wearing off, you were left shivering.

"Make sure to hold on." He noted, which was all the notice you got before suddenly you two were no longer on the ground. Tightening your grip instinctually, you shut your eyes as you could practically feel the male smile at your nature.

"How did you get down there anyway?" With the loud wind it was hard to hear, but again due to the lack of space between the two of you his voice rang clear.

"I walked."

"Down those?" Without realizing the easygoing atmosphere he created, you had peered open your eyes to look down at the stairs you both were currently soaring over. Only a brief look however as you still had some human tendencies and did have a slight aversion to heights.

"Yeah." You nodded and went to shut your eyes once more to finish out the flight, but as you did you caught sight of a new look on the spymaster's face.

Pride.

Landing as softly as possible, Madja was already there waiting for the two of you to arrive. Without thinking, you blamed it on the spymaster's shadows (but grateful they were there). Feyre also stood to the side of her, worry wringing her hands again and you let out a sigh of defeat.

Stumbling out of Azriel's arms, he steadied you, giving a once over before his high lady had shot him an inquiring look. She looked at you shortly after.

"You are never to lie to me again Y/n, you hear?" Her chastising voice was filled with love and worry all the same.

But before you could open your mouth to respond with a thousand reasons why you might, a certain male beat you too it.

"Don't go too hard on her, admittedly we have all been a bit busy to check in." You both glanced back at the male in question as his shadows wrapped around him in song. He has said it was so to promise his attention to fix the problem, which warmed your core.

"She will be okay Feyre." Meeting eye contact with him, he had sent you a small nod of his head and smile before disappearing into the dark.

Your best friend looked at you in question, but a deeper thought was spinning in her head. However, the little throat clear of the healer nearby jumpstarted the next 24 hours of care and therapy from your best friend and the best healers in Prythian. The whole endeavor couldn't tear your thoughts to a certain inner court male and the way his arms felt around you.

Maybe you would be okay.

[mariespen]

Everyone Knows It - ♥∞˚.

protective!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ˚. Summary: Rafe will always defend you. Warnings: descriptions of physical injury, vulgar name-calling, arguing, themes of anxiety based on this ask!

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“How long does this shit take?” Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, asked as you began to apply your favorite mascara. You looked at him, rolling your eyes playfully as he tried to stifle his own smile.

“I dunno, Rafe.” You replied with a shrug, giggling as his eyes rolled into his head out of annoyance.

“C’mon baby, we gotta go.” He said, borderline pouting from across the bathroom.

You turned away, finishing your makeup and adjusting your outfit, looking at him with a teasing smile as you walked back over. You tilted your head up, meeting him with a soft kiss as he pulled you closer.

“Not too long, hm?” You said, watching him scoff.

“Oh yeah, only two hours.” He said with a smile of his own.

Rafe dragged you to the car as you looked at him with hesitance. He had been so set on going to a huge party on figure 8 and he eventually convinced you to come with him. Initially, you were equally as excited, if not more. You’ve always loved parties, but this week had been especially stressful on the both of you, so it took some pleading from Rafe to get you up.

However, your mood quickly turned when you were talking with your best friend, Jessica, and she hesitantly told you that all three of Rafe’s ex-girlfriends would be stalking around the party. 

Of course you knew that Rafe loved you and only you. He had been dating you for two years now, far longer than all three of them combined. But, you also knew that none of them had gotten over him and all of them hated your guts.

At least to him, Rafe was blissfully unaware of your concern because you didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe it wasn’t as huge of a deal as you were making it, maybe you were overthinking the whole thing. Rafe didn’t need to know about your predicament, it shouldn’t even matter.

That’s what you told yourself, at least, as you picked your fingers anxiously while Rafe drove, his clueless hand on your thigh. The drive seemed a lot shorter than normal and Rafe was just starting to pick up on your nerves as the two of you pulled into the beach parking lot.

“Hey..” He started, putting the car in park and watching your eyes as you looked at the sunset.

“Hm?” You acknowledge him briefly, hiding the shake in your voice.

“Are you like.. okay?” He asked, sucking in a breath while trying to read your eyes and taking another look at you before continuing, “You just seem a little off, y’know?” Rafe knew how to read you like a book, but he had a strong tendency to second-guess himself. You could thank his father for that gift.

“Yeah, m’okay.” You muttered out, not wanting to concern him now, out of all times. Rafe kissed you softly on the cheek before getting out of the car. You tried to work up the courage before Rafe opened your door, offering his hand to you. A small ‘thank you’ came from your shaky lips and he nodded in recognition.

His hands were stuffed in his pockets when he checked behind him, seeing you practically hiding in his dark shadow. You felt too aware of everything, feeling imaginary eyes on your body. One of the few things you didn’t notice was his ex, Emma, watching the two of you with a hawk’s eye. “Baby-“ He tried to start before you saw Jessica and suddenly your nerves began to ease up.

“Jessie!” You called out, speed walking past Rafe to meet her as the two of you gushed out girly greetings.

Rafe smiled and rolled his eyes, keeping himself close to you while also lingering next to Topper and Kelce.

At some point, the last thing you were worried about was Rafe’s two-faced ex-girlfriends. The drinks were letting you ease up and Rafe trusted Jessica just enough to let you go off on your own, just a few feet into the dense crowd.

Everything was perfect, especially when your favorite song for the past month started playing. A smile spread across your face when you went to find Rafe in the crowd, a small dance in your step as you giggled to yourself.

That same smile faded as you saw one of his exes brushing up on him. You stood deathly still, astonished that he was letting this happen so openly. It was obvious that he wasn’t paying her any mind and even making an effort to step away a few times, but the fact that she was near him made your skin crawl. All confidence that you once had slowly disappeared when you looked to the right ever so slightly and made dead eye contact with his other two exes. The worst part? They had started to stalk closer to Rafe, inch by inch.

You nearly screamed out of jealousy before Jessica noticed the same thing and turned you around. You knew it was a weak attempt to distract you, but it inevitably worked as Jessica held your hand instead, spinning you on beat.

Things faded out again until one spin got a little too personal and you stopped yourself, dizzily looking over at Rafe. The girls were nowhere to be seen, which brightened your face. You started over to Rafe again, wanting to lean into him and to let him show you off like he always did. You were his girl, everyone knew that.

It wasn’t anything but a few steps in his direction before you felt a hand sweep you the other way, followed by two more. Confusion drained the happiness from your smile as you looked around, everything going too quick to fully make out any faces connected to the hands pulling you back and forth.

You tried to protest but found yourself silenced when they stopped and held you still.

“You’re a fucking whore.” Emma spat.

Emma, his first long-term ex. ‘Six months in hell’ Rafe would always say, rolling his eyes and kissing you to remember how victorious his escape was.

The two other girls, Natalee and Avery held you upright, nodding along with whatever Emma said. You rolled your eyes at their ‘yes-man’ mannerisms, which gained you a scoff from Emma.

“You stole Rafe from me. You fucking slut!” She yelled, getting closer and closer.

“Didn’t steal anyone..” You mumbled, making every reasonable attempt to back away but ultimately failing.

She scoffed. In fact, you heard all three of them scoff. You knew that they were jealous, and honestly, you would be too. Rafe broke their hearts and told them he ‘wasn’t ready for a relationship’ before skipping off to the next. All three of them assumed you to be another one of his heartbreak victims, but when you stuck for a little too long, the hatred naturally got stronger within the three.

You were lost in thought, trying to squirm away before you felt a faint sting on your cheek. You looked over at Emma and caught her just as her hand moved away from your face. 

Instantly, tears poured from your eyes as you felt utterly helpless at their fists. One punch landed before another and suddenly you were being jostled around with no thoughts besides the pain coursing through your face and stomach.

Your ears were ringing by the time Rafe ran over and tore you away from their hands. You didn’t hear him yelling or pulling you away. It barely registered in your head when he picked you up and carried you from their jealous screams with a worried look on his face.

The car door slammed shut and you regained a little bit of yourself, feeling hazy in the passenger’s seat. You heard the driver’s side door open and close, watching Rafe struggling with the ignition through your slightly blurred vision.

You felt his panic hit you like a wave throughout the entire car ride, feeling him try and keep your head upright. His voice cracked and his hands shook while he fought through to keep his confident facade. 

The two of you made it to Tannyhill and Rafe had barely put the car in park before he was rushing to your side. As much as he tried to seem careless and tough, you and him both knew that he couldn’t stifle his sensitivity around you.

His emotions crashed down on him while he tried to keep himself together, carrying your weakening body into the cushy living room.

“Talk to me, princess.” He whispered, laying you on the couch and pulling up your dress to look at the bruise quickly forming on your ribs.

You didn’t say anything but a groan of pain. Not because you couldn’t, but more because you didn’t have any words. Shock overtook your originally tearful face and realization set in. For the rest of the night, Rafe held you in his arms. He didn’t let you lift a finger and made sure you were okay before calling a few ‘friends,’ as he said, to take care of the three girls.

It truthfully didn’t matter to you what happened to them. Here he was, Rafe Cameron, with his face buried in your hair and leaving soft kisses as gentle reminders that he loved you more than anyone else.

You were his girl, everyone knew that.

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