#its like nothing really happened. there was no surrounded in friends

[drumlincountry]

This is going to sound so stupid but I only today realised that a significant number of people like....look down on retail & service industry work.

[perenlop]

ok my rescue team pair is going from azalea the cubone and leopold the skitty to “nuri” the cubone and “chip” the skitty

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[intomybubble]

I sincerely wish that Kujou put in as much effort towards Yanagi. I feel super bad seeing her doing the absolute least even after she’s starting to realize her feelings. Maybe something will change when they get together, but when I searched up when that is, its like 2 chapters before the end so RIP

I want to go back to Mizutama Honey Boy bc the effort comes from both sides. Even when Shirou confessed first to Mei and they became friends. During that time she still helped and saved him and spent a lot of time together that I never felt robbed. She even figured out her feelings mid way and confesses like in the volume before the last.

[kpoptarotastrology009]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS Part-1

Lilith in the 1st house : the person has a magnetic aura to them that makes people love them or hate them or both at the same time but in any case they think about them sexually and there's no doubt about that/ dark feminine energy

Lilith in the 10th house: it's the same as Lilith in the 1st house but the only difference when it's in the 10th house that it comes with rumors and maybe some problems in term of work and coworkers so yeah

Scorpio Mars: When these people set their mind to something, nothing can stop them. They’ve got this intense, magnetic energy that pulls you in and won’t let go. Scorpio Mars folks are all about getting to the bottom of things, no matter how deep they have to dig. They’re relentless, driven, and sometimes a little intimidating. You don’t want to mess with them because they play for keeps and don’t back down easily. Their passion is unmatched, and they bring a certain raw power to everything they do.

Sun in the 10th house: so let me tell you something, a lot of people talk about Leo suns and how they like the attention, but have you ever met someone who has their sun in the 10th house?! These people want power baby , they want to be in control and all the eyes on them they like that trust me

Moon in the 12th house : that's a hard placement to have , so first these people when you ask them about their emotion and they say they don't know, believe it or not they really don't know , it's like their emotion being hidden from them, when something happens they just don't feel anything or just don't know how to feel? this is so hard , and another thing, so these people are so delusional specially when it comes to their emotion, they fantasize a lot and live in another world, they love music Sooo much more that normal people do because music just takes them to their emotional World that's filled with illusion and they do anything they want there they just feel so happy doing that

Sagittarius Venus: Love for these individuals is a grand adventure. They’re always looking for a partner who can keep up with their wild spirit and thirst for new experiences. Honesty and freedom are non-negotiables for them, and they won’t stick around if they feel trapped or lied to. They bring a lot of enthusiasm and positivity into their relationships, making everything feel like an epic journey. Being with them means lots of spontaneous trips, deep philosophical talks, and never a dull moment.

Libra Risings: These people have a charming and diplomatic aura that makes them natural peacemakers. They’re always looking for balance and harmony in their relationships and surroundings. Libra Risings are social butterflies, often surrounded by a wide circle of friends. They have a keen sense of aesthetics and are drawn to beauty in all its forms. They’re the ones you go to for advice on style, relationships, and anything else that requires a touch of elegance.

Virgo moon : okay that's another hard placement to have , just imagine the amount of overthinking here , whenever is Virgo in your chart it's will make you overthink about the term of that planet , like some sort of anxiety ? And when it's in the moon , you will overthink your emotions, you will feel everything but you just can't describe it , for example if someone blocked you without a reason that will hurt you in someway and then you will overthink it like why and how and what's the reason and you will be thinking why they did that and 100 reasons comes to your mind and you feel bad, the insecurities and anxiety come to the surface , you're stomach hurts, you can't sleep, you can't stop thinking about it and this is for some basic cases , so imagine if it was a deeper cases ... That's scary to even think about...

Cap moon /Moon- Saturn ( conjunction/ opposite/ square): oh... I'm sorry... These people really needs emotional support, you can tell me anything but these people need love ,need care and need support, they act so strong on the outside but in the inside they are really sensitive, they just need to be loved and nurtured by a person or a mother figure

Neptune in the 5th house: this makes you so creative , your imagination is unlimited

Pisces Suns: These folks are deep in their feels and vibe on a different wavelength. They can sense what others are feeling without a word being said, making them super empathetic. Sometimes they seem spaced out or lost in their own world, which is just them getting lost in their dreams and fantasies. Pisces Suns are the creative types, always imagining new possibilities and seeing the beauty in things others might miss. They're like spiritual wanderers, flowing through life with an almost mystical vibe.

[essenceofelegance]

A Year || LN4

summary: A year can really change someone in a lot of ways.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

notes: THIS IS MY FIRST SMAU SO LMK WHAT YOU THINK! also english is literally my third language and this isn't proof read/ grammar checked so mistakes are bound to appear :(

SMAU/ Written

Summer 2023

Max Fewtrell added a video to their story.

tagged: @/yourusername @/LandoNorris

yourusername posted!

yourusername Ibiza!!

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, maxfewtrell and 94,879 other

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/MaxFewtrell

user1 DJ LANDO!!

user2 y/n feeding us dj land content. she's the real queen here

user3 I thought y/n said she didn't like to go clubbing

➥ user4 maybe she's just there to be with lando

user5 bro did anyone see that video on TikTok? y/n looked so uncomfortable I feel so bad for her

➥ user6 RIGHT?

➥ user7 she's such a good girlfriend, if I were her, I would've just left lando at the club by himself lolol

user8 salivating bc Dj landooo

user9 BARK BARK BARK

➥ user10 y/n looking at this be like...

user11 does anyone know what club theyre at?!! I'm in ibiza I wanna meet them!!

➥ user12 bro leave them alone

➥ user13 @/user12 I don't see a problem 🤷

-

You never liked clubbing.

After all, you were only here because of Lando.

The music was too loud, people were pushing up against you, you never really liked to drink because you had a really low alcohol tolerance, you could make an entire list of why a club was not your go-to hang out.

"Lan," you yelled, trying to speak over the music, "Yeah?" He said, taking one side of his DJ headphones off so he could speak to you.

"Can we go back?" You asked. There was nothing you wanted more than to go back to the comfort of your hotel room with your boyfriend.

"It's only midnight." Lando said, "Why would you wanna go back? Are you not having fun?" Land asks you, but you could tell he wasn't really focused on you. You could see it in his eyes.

"I don't wanna stay any longer, clubbing isn't really my thing." You said, a hint of pleading in your tone.

"Soon, baby, okay?" Lando said, not even giving you a chance to protest before turning back to his DJ set.

You sighed in defeat, before retreating to a quieter corner of the club.

It was going to be a long night, like any other you've spent in a club, with Lando.

Summer 2024

Max Fewtrell added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

yourusername added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

Lando Norris added a photo to their story.

caption: taking pictures of my pretty girl

tagged: @/lando.jpg @/yourusername

yourusername ibizaaaa im backk

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 107,897 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/yourbestfriend @/MaxFewtrell

alexandrasaintmleux miss you! ♥ by author

lilymhe ditch him for me!!! ♥ by author

➥ yourusername say less 💍

➥ landonorris ???????? @/AlexAlbon

➥ alexalbon atp im used to it

user1 both of them are so pretty its not fair

user2 no DJ Lando content?!

user3 Not even following y/n because she's lando's girlfriend, im following her bc she's Y/N

user4 that jawline

user5 why do they keep going back to Ibiza

➥ user6 litt, like, why can't they go literally ANYWHERE ELSE

user7 OMGOMGMG I WAS tHERE AND I SAW LANDO GO UP TO Y/N FROM BEHIND AND LITERALLY PULLED HER INTO HIM BY THE WAIST AHHHHHHHHHH

➥ user8 WHATTTTT

➥ user9 picture or it didn't happen

user10 dj lando...?

-

You were about to head to the bar to get another drink, seeing as Lando wouldn't want to leave anytime soon, and your best friend was probably hooking up with some hot Spanish guy, when you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne surrounding you, along with the smell of alcohol.

Lando nuzzled his head into your neck, mumbling something quietly, so quiet you couldn't hear him over the club music.

"What is it?" You said, raising your voice slightly, so he could hear you over the loud buzzing of the club music.

"Nothing." He mumbled, "Missed you, is all."

A small smile unwittingly showed up on your face, "Im gonna go get a drink. Go party."

But, Lando shook his head, "Can we go back to the hotel? I wanna cuddle." He said into your neck, instinctively pulling you closer.

You were shocked, to say the least. A year ago, he wouldn't leave the club no matter how hard you tried to convince him. He was a party animal, but now, he was asking if you wanted to leave.

You checked the time on your phone, it was barely midnight, Lando never left anything before midnight, let alone a club.

"Why, are you feeling sick?" You asked him, turning around to face him.

His arms wrapped themselves back around your waist, "What?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "No." He said, "just wanna cuddle with you."

"That's new." You commented as you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"I always wanna cuddle." Lando said.

"Yeah, but not at the extent of leaving the club early." You said.

"Can we please go?" He mumbled again, looking at you like a puppy.

You nodded after a few seconds, "Never liked clubbing that much anyway, I only come to be with you."

As Lando and you and Lando were heading towards the exit of the club, you bumped into Max (Fewtrell). "Leaving so soon?" He asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah," Lando nodded, "Going back to the hotel to cuddle with my girl." He said, raising you hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"You've really changed him," Max joked, "Lando being the first to leave? Never in a billion years."

You laughed, "Believe me, I don't believe it either."

"Can we go?" Lando all but whined.

You laughed again, "Okay, okay, lets go."

You waved goodbye to Max and led Lando out the club, and when Max saw his best friend look at you like you were the one who hung the stars in the sky, he knew you'd changed him for the better. And that his best mate was well and truly, in love.

-

yourusername sleepy boy chronicles 🤪

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 108,950 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris

landonorris at least I look cute ♥ by author

➥ yourusername can't disagree with that

user1 how does one fall asleep in the middle of packing?

user2 hes jus like us  🥺

➥ user3 relatable king

landonorris I was only that tired because you kept me up all night doing cardio..

user4 lando and y/n are so cute tgt I cannot

user5 Im convinced Lando only made it to 24 because of Y/n

➥ yourusername I mean..

➥ landonorris hey!

user6 Lando has no bad angles

user7 I SAW THAT LANDO

➥ user8 y/n is just a girl and lando is just a boy.. they need their cardio ;) ♥ by author

➥ user8 Y/N PLS MARRY ME

landonorris ❤️

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 709,897 others

yourusername is this what you do in your free time? take pictures of pretty girls?

➥ landonorris only of the ones that I love more than anything

➥ yourusername so you're saying there's more than one? 🤨

maxfewtrell Happy for you, mate ♥ by author

comments are limited

[kingghoost]

Posting this Cybertronian Ratchet design because all the drawings I have ready forward use/reference it ^^

I made it awhile ago and it may not be super creative, but I actually didn't wanna change his design too much to portray how he himself doesn't change as a person (not in a bad way, he holds firmly to his beliefs and has a strong character💞)

I wrote a little backstory, too!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

" Long before the war, Ratchet was one of the many medics stationed in Kaon with the task of nursing fallen gladiators back to health. Though he was considered the best, many feared his temperamental attitude, especially his own patients. Despite the coincidence, Megatronus and Ratchet had never actually interacted face to face, although they were aware of each other's existence. That is, until they had both been introduced through their mutual friend, Orion Pax.

With the little free time he had, Ratchet was one to frequently travel to Iacon to visit the Hall of Records, whether to spend his time reading or doing research on personal projects. Then, he met Orion at his workplace, and the two quickly formed a strong bond. When they weren't hanging out in person, they would keep contact via comms (sorta like online friends.) One fateful day, Orion had taken some time off of work to visit Ratchet in Kaon, coincidentally at the same time Megatronus had started to make a name for himself and his cause. This resulted in him witnessing one of Megatronus' speeches live, thus allowing them to meet and form a partnership as well.

In a way, Orion Pax changed Ratchet. Being surrounded by corruption and oppression from the caste system where it was at its worst, Ratchet had given up any hopes of a better Cybertron. However, Orion's altruistic nature inspired him, guided him to prove his mettle in the Great War, and binded him to Orion's—now Optimus'—side for millennia, and many more to come. "

Corny? I'm not sure. The writing's not all that good because of its age, but getting the point across is all that matters..

I really love the idea of a Kaonian Ratchet 💞💞

Ratchet being an indirect cause to Orion and Megatronus meeting is super interesting to me as well... do you think after all that happened, he feels at fault? In the episode where Ratchet was telling everyone about Optimus' backstory, he seemed to have nothing but bad things to say about Megatron, so they probably never got along since the beginning...

[velarisdusk]

Unveiled Pleasures

Day 4: Virgin | Rhysand x Reader word count: 4.3k author’s note: this was not a kink i thought i had but during planning, the thought of rhys getting a dark look in his eyes, losing himself and going feral when he finds out…… yum :) ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

A blizzard rages outside, snow swirling in the darkness. It’s been relentless; for two days, its winds clawed at windows and howled through the night. Snow accumulates in thick drifts outside, burying Velaris in a frosty silence. Inside the townhouse, the warmth of the fireplace provides a cozy, safe haven.

You and Rhysand are curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The house is quiet; Amren is back at her apartment, Cassian is in Illyria (Gods help him, you can’t imagine the storm there), Azriel’s away on reconnaissance, and Mor winnowed to the cabin last night, claiming she needed some “alone time.” But you had a feeling she just wanted to leave the two of you here, together. 

You’ve known each other for centuries, since you were all young and reckless, before the world became complicated. Over the years, you’ve become more than friends — you’ve become constant in each other’s lives, someone to rely on through war, heartbreak, and everything in between. For a while, there was something between you — something unspoken but undeniably there. The way his hands lingered when he touched you, or how you’d catch him looking at you a little too long.

But whatever it was, it never grew beyond that. Time passed, and eventually, it seemed like he’d moved on. You told yourself you had, too. You never let it become a big deal, never let it interfere with the easy friendship you shared. It was just… there, hovering in the background, a feeling you’d long since learned to live with. And now was no different, chatting and playing card games on the couch, sharing a blanket by the fireplace. You would’ve thought it cliche if not for the fact that you’d been in this exact scenario more times than you could count — and nothing had happened.

Nothing will happen. 

“Place feels off,” you muse absently, shuffling the two cards in your hand as you consider your next move.

Rhysand chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Off how? Too quiet without Cass?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Well, yeah, that… but also just calmer.” You glance up at him, noticing the way the firelight casts soft shadows across his face. “We’re usually out doing something or surrounded by other people. Just not used to this much quiet, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully, drawing a card from the deck and placing it face up next to the 10 of clubs. Ace of hearts. “That’s true,” he agrees, glancing at the cards on the blanket. “But it’s a nice change of pace, don’t you think? A well-deserved one.”

You eye your own cards — 10 of spades and ace of clubs — two pair. You toss two peppermints into the makeshift betting pool. “Raise. It’s definitely safer,” you say with a shrug.

Rhys matches your bet, tossing in two more mints. “Safer? From what? Drunk fae trying to chat you up? Or Cassian making an ass of himself with every female in sight?” His brow quirks up as a grin spreads across his face. 

You burst out laughing, the image of Cassian’s failed attempts at flirtation all too vivid. “Both, actually,” you manage between fits of laughter, shaking your head. “That last time at Rita’s… that was something.”

Leaning back against the couch, he shakes his head with a mischievous grin. “Do you remember that awful line Cass used on that poor girl? Something about his sword and–”

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “Oh gods, don’t remind me. He really thought he was being clever.”

Rhys chuckles, rubbing his jaw. “He always thinks he’s clever. Like this—” He suddenly leans toward you, his voice dropping into a ridiculous impression of Cassian’s deep tone. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘bigger the sword, bigger the—'”

You both dissolve into laughter before he can finish, your sides aching from how ridiculous it sounds.

He grins, gaze still playful as he mimics Cassian again, this time reaching out and gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “But then he’d get all serious,” Rhys murmurs, his voice dropping lower, soft and teasing now. “He’d do this… look into her eyes and say, ‘I could spend hours just watching the way you blush, imagining what else I could do to make you look like that.’”

The sudden shift in his tone and the warmth of his hand against your cheek make your breath catch. You freeze, the playful atmosphere suddenly charged. He holds your gaze, the firelight flickering in his violet eyes, and for a moment, it’s hard to remember this is supposed to be a joke. 

You laugh, but it’s quieter now, more nervous. “Cassian really said that?” you ask, but it’s hardly louder than a whisper. 

Rhys doesn’t drop his hand, his thumb absentmindedly brushing your skin as he looks at you. “Well,” he says softly, his smile softer now, uncertain. “Maybe not like that… but, I guess… something like it.” You feel your face grow warm, a quiet tension slipping between you. His eyes search yours, and something unspoken passes between you both — something neither of you can ignore anymore. 

His voice is quieter when he speaks again, as though he’s only just noticing the change himself. “You okay?”

The question feels loaded like there’s more behind it than just casual concern. You nod, but your voice is stuck in your throat. You can’t tear your gaze away from his. He’s still so close. Rhys leans in slightly, his thumb moving to brush along your jawline now, the motion slower, more deliberate than before. His eyes flicker over your features, lingering on your lips for just a second too long. 

You swallow, heart pounding. “Just… surprised.”

“Surprised?” His brow lifts slightly, but his tone is softer, more serious now. “By what?”

By the way his touch sends a ripple of heat through you, by how your heart races under the intensity of his gaze. You don’t say that though. Instead, you let out a shaky laugh, trying to play it off. “That you’re taking this Cass impression so seriously.”

Rhys huffs a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His fingers pause for a second, lingering on your neck. He doesn’t move away. “I’m not, really… just… You’re looking at me differently,” he says softly, almost like he’s noticing it for the first time. The room feels suddenly smaller, the crackling fire and storm outside fading into the background. 

You hold his gaze, your heart pounding. There’s a question in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the pull between you growing stronger. You’re both so close now, the warmth of his skin against yours more pronounced. 

Without breaking eye contact, Rhys’ hand gently slides down to rest at the back of your neck, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze drops to your lips, and for a moment, time seems to stretch.

He leans in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. His lips brush against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a slow exploration, a testing of the waters. When you don’t move away, his kiss deepens, his lips melding with yours as the warmth between you ignites into something more intense. 

As the kiss between you and Rhysand grows more heated, the heat becomes almost unbearable. Clothes are shed in a frenzy of passion, and you find yourself in your undergarments, sinking to your knees on the plush carpet before him. The firelight flickers across the room, casting a warm glow that dances over both of you. You start to reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, but suddenly, uncertainty creeps in. Your hands falter, and you pull back just enough to look up at him, a mixture of nervousness and determination in your eyes.

“I’m not really sure what to do,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first time.”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from surprise to an intense, almost reverent focus. He takes a moment to process your confession, clearly stunned.

He speaks softly, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “After all these centuries, you’re still–”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “You’re still a virgin?” His gaze sharpens, the intensity of his stare turning into something more primal. 

When your only response is a nod, a slow, hungry smile spreads across his lips. “Gods, that’s incredible,” he breathes, his voice low and tinged with a dark thrill. Leaning in, his breath warms your ear. “You have no idea how much that turns me on. The thought of being the first one to touch you like this…” His hand slides over your head, fingers threading through your hair with a possessive caress. “The first to make you feel things you’ve never…” He inhales deeply, his nose brushing against your neck, “–felt before…”

Rhysand pulls back slightly, his hand gently gripping your chin, and he tilts your face up to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this… Guiding you through it, showing you everything…” His eyes flash with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. He traces his thumb over your lips, his touch charged. 

“Not everything; I’ve read romance novels,” you clarify, shifting your weight back onto your calves.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he lets out the barest breath of a scoff, shaking his head as if in awe. His eyes flicker with a dark amusement as his hand trails from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers toying with your hair. “Romance novels,” he repeats, his tone light, but the glint in his eyes betrays something darker. His thumb brushes your cheek, and his lips curve into a slow, teasing smile. “Well, then… you’re practically an expert, aren’t you?”

You feel the weight of his gaze as you fumble for a response, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Well, I mean–”

Rhysand cuts you off, his voice edged with raw desire. “I’m going to show you everything you need to know.” His grip on your hair tightens just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a possessive intensity. “Just focus on me and let me take control,” he murmurs, his voice low. “If you need anything, you speak up, alright?” The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like you’re melting.

You nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement, and his gaze doesn’t waver. His fingers trail lightly over your collarbone and down to the swell of your chest, his touch a teasing whisper against your skin. With a deep breath, you lean forward, your hands cautiously pulling down his underwear, and Rhysand’s breath hitches slightly as you expose him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand resting lightly on your head, guiding you as you lower yourself, taking him into your mouth.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of your movements and his encouraging murmurs. As you cautiously take him into your mouth, you focus on finding a rhythm, the unfamiliar texture and warmth making your pulse race. Your hands rest lightly on his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles as you move. Each gentle stroke is executed with trepidation and eagerness, guided by Rhysand’s soft, approving sounds.

Rhysand’s hands gently cradle your head, his grip firm but tender. “Damn,” he groans, his tone laced with surprise. “You’re a natural.” His praise sends a shiver through you, mingling with the heat of your desire. Though he guides you slightly, his touch remains light and encouraging. His voice drops to a low murmur, filled with adoration. “That’s it, just like that,” he urges, his breath hitching as you experiment with different motions. His nails gently graze your scalp, and he lets out a soft, appreciative groan when you press a flat tongue to the underside of his cock. “You feel so good, baby. Just keep going, you’re making me lose my mind.”

Every word from him makes you more determined to continue, your movements growing more confident as his reactions heighten your arousal. “You can take me deeper, I know you can,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. “You’re doing so well, you got it,” and his hips start bucking into your mouth. Your own breathing becomes shallow as your throat constricts around him, the new sensation is overwhelming yet intoxicating.

With a low groan of approval, Rhysand suddenly shifts, his hands coming to rest of your shoulders. “Hold on a moment,” he says, helping you up from the floor, and guiding you back onto the couch with him, a dark hungry glint in his eyes. 

A hand reaches under you, deftly unclipping your bra with a single, smooth motion. He moves the other to the waistband of your underwear, and he slides both off of you tantalizingly slowly. He discards them with a casual flick, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable under his intense, appreciative gaze. 

“Go on, let’s get you a bit more comfortable,” he says, adjusting you with deliberate care so you’re sprawled out comfortably across the couch. His gaze smolders with hunger as he moves between your legs, his breath fanning over your inner thigh. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as he begins to tease, his tongue a tantalizing caress that makes you gasp and shiver. The sounds of his enjoyment mingling with yours create a symphony of shared desire, each touch sending waves of sensation through your body. 

Just as his tongue delves deeper, the sensation blurs your senses, making the room seem to spin and float. The combination of his skilled tongue and the disorienting rush of winnowing overwhelms you with a euphoric intensity. When your vision clears, you find yourself in Rhysand’s bedroom, his tongue still lavishing attention on you. He takes his time to savor every part of you. His movements are masterful, each flick and stroke of his tongue tailored to make you writhe in pleasure. He alternates between gentle, teasing laps, and more focused, firm strokes, finding the rhythm that has you gripping the sheets. 

His hands are relentless, roaming your body, occasionally tracing the curves of your thighs or the sensitive skin of your hips. He clasps your hands tightly, anchoring you as his deep, guttural moans vibrate through you, heightening every sensation and leaving you squirming with need. 

Amidst the physical pleasure, Rhysand begins to invade your mind with a barrage of filthy, electrifying thoughts. His voice, though unspoken, reverberates in your mind like a seductive whisper. “It’s going to feel so good when I fuck you,” he promises. “Picture how good it’s going to feel when I’m buried deep inside you, how you’ll be trembling under me.” The mental imagery is a pleasant surprise — he shows you vivid scenes of him thrusting into you with relentless vigor, making you gasp and shiver. “It’ll feel so much better than your fingers, darling.”

“Can you see it? Feel it?” he sends into your mind, his thoughts a sultry whisper caressing your consciousness. “Feel me pushing into you, filling you completely. Every thrust, every stroke… I want you to feel every inch of me, how your body will mold perfectly around my cock.” The intensity of his words only drove your arousal to a fever pitch, leaving you moaning and writhing with an urgent need. 

His thoughts also weave images of you coming undone, of him making you see the stars with his touch. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t know what to do with yourself. I’ll have you screaming my name, begging for more.” The raw, possessive desire only drives you closer to the edge, each thought and image adding to the pleasure building rapidly within you. “You’re my sweet little virgin now,” his voice growls in your mind. “But not for long. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging for my cock every chance you get. You’ll be a little whore for me won’t you? Needing to be filled again and again.”

When your climax finally crashes over you, it’s intense and all-consuming, leaving you gasping and trembling. Rhysand’s mental presence remains, a constant, darkly, satisfying presence as you ride out your orgasm. 

After you’ve come down from your high, Rhysand pulls back slightly, his gaze dark and hungry. He leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks softly. “See how easy that was? You’re going to be amazing, just like that. “

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his cock slick and hot against your folds. As he aligns himself, his voice is thick with desire “Feel how hard I am for you? Feel how much I want you? I’m going to fuck you so good, make you feel things you never imagined. You ready for me, sweetheart?” He looks up from where the tip of his cock lines up with your entrance, eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity.

You meet his gaze, your voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. “I… I want you, Rhysand. I need you.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes matched by a fierce desire. “Please, don’t hold back.”

Rhysand’s smile turns predatory, his eyes alight with satisfaction. He maintains eye contact as he pushes inside, inch by inch, savoring every second of your tight, untried body struggling to accommodate him. “Does it hurt?” his voice drips with mockery and satisfaction when you squeeze your eyes shut. “Does it hurt having this pussy stretched out for the first time?” He watches your reactions intently, delighting in them as your expressions shift from nervous anticipation to surprised pleasure, your brows furrowing with the intensity of it all. 

He cradles the back of your head, tilting it down toward where your bodies are joined. “Look at that,” he breathes, his tone full of wonder. “Look at how you wrap around me. So… fucking tight — it’s like you’re sucking me in.”

The mewl you let out would be embarrassing if not for the overwhelming pleasure and mind-numbing stretch of his cock inside you. “Rhysand, please,” you whisper, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to steady yourself.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do, darling?” his voice is a lazy drawl, as though he has all the time in the world to tease you, to make you beg for more. His hips are still, the need to move evident in the tense muscles beneath your hands, but he holds back, watching you writhe beneath him.

“Please, Rhys, just move,” you whine, your body yearning for more, the slow stretch making you desperate. “Just want you… Want you to move.”

“Move?” He raises a brow at you, feigning confusion. “Move where? Move off of you?” He starts to pull out, slowly, torturously, and for a moment, the sensation feels good — until the realization hits that he’ll leave you empty. Without thinking, you wrap your legs around him, arms clinging to his neck to keep him in place.  

He chuckles darkly, a low, amused sound. “You’ll have to be more specific, I need to hear what you want, or…” He pulls out further, the head of his cock barely inside you now.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “Rhys, fuck me, please.”

The glint in his eyes is dangerous, primal. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He thrusts back into you, slow but deep, filling you completely. “You feel that?” he murmurs against your neck. “You’ve never had anyone touch you like this before, have you? I’m the first… and I’ll be the only one to make you feel this way. Your fingers don’t even reach this deep, huh? You can’t even pleasure yourself the way that I will.” His words are gentle, but the power behind them is undeniable. “So pure, so untouched. You’re mine now. I’m going to make sure no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

The way he speaks, the deliberate pace of his thrusts as he starts to push in and out of you, has you melting beneath him, pleasure and helpless surrender pooling in your belly. Every inch of him fills you perfectly.

“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. “Look at how you take me, so well. So fucking tight and sweet, like you were made for this,” he growls, his breath puffing against your skin as he thrusts again, deeper this time. “You feel that, darling? That’s me, stretching you open, shaping this pretty pussy so it’ll only ever fit me.”

A gasp tears from your lips, your body overtaken by the sensation of him inside you, deeper than anything you could have imagined. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your legs trembling as you try to keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. “Rhys,” you whimper, your voice soft and breathless. “It’s so… so much.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, a dance of tongues and lips, exchanging breath ang longing. When he pulls back, his voice is a low rumble. “It’s going to be more, sweetheart. So much more. You can take it though, I know you can.”

You shudder at his words, the physical and mental onslaught of pleasure overwhelming. “Rhys, I–” you gasp, struggling to speak as your mind spins. “I’ve never– fuck! I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he purrs, his pace quickening slightly, making you moan with every deep stroke. “You’ve never been fucked before. You didn’t know what you were missing, did you?”

Your breath catches, your hands fisting in the sheets as his words sink in. The sensation of being filled, stretched, and dominated by him is getting to be too much. “Rhys, please,” you whisper, “please, don’t stop.”

His lips curve into a wicked smile. “I’m not stopping. Not until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.” He thrusts into you harder now, making your body jolt with each sound of skin against skin. “No one else is ever going to fuck you like this. You’ll always want me. You’ll always need me.”

The pleasure building inside you is almost too much, the sensation of his cock slamming in and out of your tight heat. “It feels so good!” you cry out, your pretty noises spurring his desire. “I– I can’t… believe how good it–”

“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You like the way I stretch you out. The way your body squeezes me like it’s never going to let go.” He moves faster, his thrusts becoming rougher, more demanding. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love it.”

Your head is spinning, your body trembling as the pleasure builds. “I love it,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “I love the way you feel inside me, Rhysand.”

His eyes harden, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “That’s right. You love being fucked by me, don’t you? You love the way I make you feel, the way I take your virgin cunt.” His hand slides down your body, gripping your hip to keep his unrelenting pace. “And I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re screaming my name, until you can’t think of anything else but how good my cock feels inside you. So innocent… But not anymore, darling, you’re going to want this every single time you see me.”

Your muscles shake as you respond wantonly. “I want more, I want you to fuck me harder.” Rhysand groans, flipping you over without pulling you off his cock. His hands grip your hips as he pulls you closer, his cock slamming into you with renewed force.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice rough with lust. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for. But I’ll give it to you, if that’s what you want?” He glances at you for confirmation, though he already knows what he’ll see.You’ll look back at him with a blissful nod, your eyes heavy and barely open. You cry out as his pace turns punishing, far beyond what you’d imagined during those restless nights spent desperately rubbing your clit to thoughts of him. You can barely catch your breath as he fucks you for all you’re worth. 

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. His hands wander over you, the swell of your breasts, the soft skin of your neck. “You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you? I can feel it. You’re so close. You’re going to come all over my cock, aren’t you?”

You can’t speak, your voice lost to pleasure. “Rhys, please,” you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge. “I’m so so close.”

He teases your ear lobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Come for me, go on. Show me how good it feels to have your virgin cunt fucked for the first time.”

“Feels so good, feels so–”

With a final thrust, you fall apart, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you. Rhysand’s name is a broken moan on your lips as the pleasure floods through you. Rhysand watches you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace never slowing. “That’s it,” he coaxes you through it. “That’s my girl. You’re mine now, sweetheart. Only mine.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex

[marvelstoriesepic]

Casual Sweetness

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: You seek out your roommate and best friend Bucky for comfort after a girls night out leaves you shaken up.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: slight mentions of handsy strangers at a bar (nothing graphic); so much comfort

Author’s note: I don’t know where this came from. I started writing it, then finished it and now it’s existing and I’m putting it out there.

Masterlist

Never once has a night out with your girls left you this unsatisfied. Or, shaken, really. Every pre-planned rendezvous or spontaneous meet-up at a local bar with Wanda and Nat had always been a reliable escape from the daily grind.

You three like to cozy up at home, preferably at Wanda’s, and binge-watch a worthy series. And while that held its certain appeal, every once in a while you would find yourselves dancing and drinking, surrounded by people who wouldn’t remember enough of you, if the amount of liquor drove you to making decisions that sober you wouldn’t have even thought of. It has always provided an outlet for stress and helped you recharge.

Not tonight though. The strangers in the new bar you girls tried out tonight were far too handsy, your head started pounding uncomfortably even before taking the first sip and thinking about the bartender only makes dread pooling in your gut.

You also weren’t able to distract your mind, or rather your heart.

Usually, you would think about getting an Uber to meet up with your friends but Bucky always insisted on driving you when he wasn’t busy. But really, he never seemed to be, anyway. Not when it meant you would have to leave the apartment on your own. Nothing had his priority other than chauffeuring you around. You never asked him to do that, he just had a habit of insisting and there was nothing you could do. He had told you as much.

And tonight was no exception. He had sprung up from the couch, movie already paused, and keys in hand when you had emerged from the bathroom and practically ushered you into his car to drive you to the bar you girls had agreed on meeting at.

“Just don’t like the idea of you sitting in the backseat of some car, looking all pretty and dressed up with some guy in the front, thinking god knows what. Not taking any chances, doll, let me drive you.”

You always roll your eyes and scoff at his exaggerated concern, reminding him that it was said guy’s job to drive you to your wanted destination. You usually ignore the rest of his words. A simple shirt and jeans would hardly qualify as ‘dressed up’ for you and the idea of you being ‘pretty’ was something you would usually laugh at.

But it was hard to laugh at that when it came out of Bucky’s mouth. Your roommate. Your friend. Maybe even your best friend. But that’s where it stopped because nothing more ever happened. And you doubted it would.

So you let his words slide and let them wash over you because if you would address them, you would start thinking. And think, you do not want to. Because thinking only leads to foolish hope. A hopeless belief, that perhaps Bucky feels what you feel and suppresses it the same way you are. A ridiculous belief that he has the same overwhelming feelings about a friend that goes way beyond what friends normally feel for each other.

So you never let yourself think too hard, shoving those feelings into a box at the very back of your mind and swallowing down the key with the hard liquor when you went out for some drinks. It always burns on its way down. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s that lingering ache. It really is not clear to you, but it does offer you a sense of reprieve, if only temporarily.

With every hungover the next day, follows the inevitable onslaught of that knot inside your chest and that rusty key resurfaces, reopening the box and unleashing a fresh wave of longing.

It only worsens in the way he would take care of you.

Every glass of water, each soft touch, each softly whispered inquiry is a gentle prod to the already gaping wound that was caused by the feelings of unrequited love.

The pancakes he would bring to your bed - because you were too grumpy to leave it - never satisfies the nourishment your soul craves. The pain relievers he would put on your nightstand, already there when you’d get back, would only serve as a cruel reminder that nothing could relieve the ache inside your chest.

With every “You feeling better, doll?” and “There anything else I can do for you, sweetheart?” the ache deepens, spreading like wildfire through your veins, reaching your bones and searing through them like branding irons with the intention to leave marks that you believe to be permanent.

The hangover eventually leaves your body, but your heart festered.

However, the ache is not always the dominant emotion in Bucky’s presence. It isn’t always the first thing you acknowledge. First and foremost, being in Bucky’s proximity elicits a profound sense of comfort and warmth.

It let the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably with every belly laugh he let out unabashedly, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut, crinkles forming at their corners.

Your heart does unwanted flips at every pet name Bucky lets casually slip passed his lips, seeming so nonchalant about calling you ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’ but to you it means everything.

Every tender gesture leaves you breathless. You had been living with him for nearly a year now and you had come to acknowledge how sharing a space with him had become a delicate balancing act between euphoria and agony.

Bucky would bring you a hot water bottle at times when your cramps got too bad, or simply when you experienced menstrual discomfort, trying to soothe you with sweets he extra went out for.

He would jokingly chastise you to fold your clothes before storing them in the closet to prevent them from wrinkling and tease you when you didn’t. But it always ended with him taking matters into his own hands and carefully folding your clothes while you watched him from your bed, making fun of him when he turned red attending to your undergarments, despite trying to remain indifferent.

He would cook with and for you, make you coffee in the mornings, distract you with terrible jokes when you had a bad day, and leave you to it when all you needed was some me-time, only checking in when he needed to be sure you were okay.

His casual sweetness was a constant assault on your composure.

But right now, as you klick the door to your shared apartment shut and slip out of your shoes with a heavy sigh, it is all you can think of. His gentle touch, the sparkling blue of his eyes, the cheerfulness of his smile that makes your insides do somersaults.

It is still early. Earlier than you had ever been home after a night out and you’re sure Bucky is still awake. The lights in the living room are out which means he is in his room, perhaps engrossed in his laptop, reading a book, or idly scrolling through his phone.

Yet, you hesitate, staying rooted to the spot in the hallway. It was nothing unusual for you to knock on Bucky’s door, sometimes simply barging in if you felt particularly bold or just wanted to annoy him. But you had never sought him out before simply because you needed him. Needed his comfort, his reassuring whispers, the warmth that radiates off him and seeps into your skin.

So to buy some time, you retreat to the bathroom; emptying the contents of your bladder, splashing water on your face, and brushing your teeth.

There is only so much time you can stall, and soon enough you find yourself standing in front of Bucky’s bedroom door, clothes discarded and changed for more comfortable sleepwear. There is no noise filtering through the wall of his room but the soft glow seeping beneath the door offers a glimmer of hope.

You try to soothe the shakiness of your hands and rub them along the fabric of your shirt before lifting one hand to knock on his door. The sound is softer than intended, but Bucky’s gentle ‘come in’ was immediate.

Opening the door slowly you find him leaning against the headboard of his bed, dark sheets loosely draped around his waist. His grey shirt makes him look cozy and in his lap lay a book. One you had recommended him to read.

Your body reacts in an instant, shoulders dropping ever so slightly and a breath leaves your lips at the comfort he already provides.

“You’re back early,” he starts when you keep standing at the door unmoving, “didn’t expect you home til’ midnight at least.”

The familiar cadence of his tone provides you the sense of stability you had needed to let go of his doorknob, however, the teasing in his voice wasn’t lost on you. He seems to have expected you to tumble through the door at an ungodly hour, dropping in your bed and waking the next morning with a hangover worse than the last time.

You assume the bottle of water and the painkillers already found their place on your nightstand.

A huffed laugh leaves your lips but your expression remains unchanged as you shift awkwardly in his doorway. “Uh, yeah, we decided to leave earlier. Weren’t really feeling it, I guess.” You shrug, attempting to sound nonchalant, but Bucky’s brow begins to furrow softly and he shuts his book, placing it on his nightstand without taking his eyes off you.

“You alright, doll?” His voice was devoid of the teasing tone he had held moments before, “did something happen?” His eyes are intense, scanning your face and you break eye contact, letting your gaze wander across his room as if you see it for the first time.

You take a deep breath, hands twisting nervously and your heart picks up in pace. “I, uhm…It’s-” You stumble over your words, a shaky breath escaping your mouth instead of a coherent answer.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky shift on his bed, straightening as if preparing to come closer to you but your next words halt him in his movements.

“Can I maybe stay with you? Tonight?”

It comes out more pleading and quieter than wanted but you don’t care about that right now. Not with the way Bucky looks at you. He is halfway out of the bed already, sheets thrown back onto the mattress but he still doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“Course you can stay, doll! Of course you can.”

Bucky’s voice holds a reassuring firmness, while he still talks softly. Your teeth clamp down on your lower lip, watching him cross the room to you and placing his hands gently on your upper arms to take a better look at you. His eyes move between yours, brows deepening, concern etching itself into every line of his face.

“You wanna tell me what happened? Somebody make you uncomfortable?” There is something in his tone you can’t concentrate on, only shaking your head at his questions.

“I don’t- Can we not-” Your words were cut short by the gentle touch of Bucky’s hand on your face. His thumb begins to steadily swipe over your cheekbones so tenderly, a shiver rushes down your spine. He had never touched you like this before and you are trying your very best not to let your eyes droop and melt into him.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, doll, I just-” So many emotions are swirling in the depth of his blues, his worry still the most outstanding. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he whispers. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

His thumb doesn’t ease the motions over your skin and it is that you realize your hands stopped shaking and your heartbeat fell back in place without conscious effort. He has done so much for you already, without knowing it.

A deep, audible sigh escapes your lips and you offer him your first genuine smile of the night. “Just wanna stay here with you,” you whisper, your gaze locked onto his and if the world stopped moving for a second you would be none the wiser.

The comforting circles of his thumb paused and you feel that damned rusty key turning in the deadbolt of the lock to the box of your feelings, opening them with a screech and letting the contents spill out, open for him to see. And there comes the hope again. The belief that the depths of his eyes reflect the very same emotions you have plastered on your face.

But how can you not believe it when his expression holds something that looks to you a lot like love. A love, an affection, that, as you’ve established goes way beyond friendship.

Warm lips brush against your forehead and you let your eyes close for a second, savoring the feel of them. Gentle hands guide you towards his bed and you move like putty, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the soft sheets, full of his scent.

Bucky crawls in beside you, laying his body to face yours and you can’t help but study the way the soft glow of the moon that seeps through the curtains, reflect on the planes of his face, after he shut off the little lamp on his bedside table.

“Thank you, Bucky!” you whisper, the sound almost getting lost in the sheets, but he hears you, a soft smile forming on his lips, the moon allowing you to see it.

“Not for this, sweetheart. Never for this,” he whispers back and you let your eyes fall shut with a content sigh.

Right before sleep can claim you, you feel the comforting weight of his hand, covering your own over the sheets and silently linking with your fingers.

“I’ve found a natural drug for all of my panic, anxiety, and anger. It’s his voice. It’s him.”

- J.R. Rogue

[faithisyours]

Never Done Teasing

Azriel x Fem!reader

Summary: All day you've been teasing Azriel. Now it’s time for his revenge.

Warnings: Mean Az!, bondage with shadows…shadow bondage? Maybe slightly dub con? Oral M!receiving, rough sex, kinda emotional sex, orgasm denial, coming inside, spanking, degradation, praise, anal, spitting, crying, aftercare, not proofread. This fic is filthy and disgusting. You’ve been warned.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Sup fuckers. I’m back to terrorize you all. We've got a spicy one on our hands today. Inspiration came, and now I have a lot of ideas for fics. Will I write them, though? *cricket noises* Anyways, minors gtfo. Hope you enjoy it! If you have ideas for fics, hand them over (if you want) :)

Azriel slams the front door of your shared house behind him, making the hanging picture frames sway. He smacks your ass, which just so happens to be right next to his face, considering he has you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The harsh hit causes a squeak to escape you, but you really can't blame anyone but yourself for the situation you're in.

You’ve just come home from dinner with the Inner Circle. Actually, it’s more appropriate to say you’ve just been dragged away from dinner with the Inner Circle by your mate, Azriel. All day you've been teasing and taunting him, but what you had been doing at the dinner table surrounded by your friends was his breaking point. It had started this morning when you had not-so-innocently wiggled your ass into his crotch, making him hard as stone, then proceeded to not help him one bit with getting rid of that hardness. Then there were your touches throughout the day, your lingering hand on his arm at breakfast, your thighs brushing his as you walked past him in the training ring, your eyes burning into his while he sparred with Cassian. And then there was the outfit you had decided to wear to dinner: a tight little black dress that showed off all your assets, as well as made Azriel short circuit every time he looked at you.

And then there was what you had done at dinner. You were all in the middle of eating and the conversation had shifted to discussing some of the new shops around Velaris when your hand had found its way onto Azriel’s thigh. The contact was innocent at first, but as the dinner dragged on, so too did your hand, making its way up and curling in. Your fingers drew lazy patterns across his thigh, which you knew was driving Azriel mad. And all the while you continued your conversation, participated and joked with your friends, acted like nothing was going on under the table.

Azriel had been notably quieter at dinner, considering it was taking everything in him not to bend you over the table and fuck you that instant, friends being present or not. Rhys had been the first to comment on his quietness.

“Everything alright, Az? You seem awfully quiet this evening,” Rhys asked when Azriel hadn’t laughed at something Rhys knew he would find funny.

“Everything’s fine,” Az assured, although rather tightly. But you had felt the need to chime in.

“Are you sure, baby? You haven’t uttered a full sentence all evening,” you purred, knowing damn well it was because of you. In answer, he just looked at you, smoldering heat and the plotting of revenge swirling in his hazel eyes. The conversation continued on, and Azriel stayed relatively silent the entire night.

As soon as dinner was done, Azriel had excused the both of you and hauled your ass back home, winnowing with you thrown over his shoulder. And now here you are, getting lugged towards your shared bedroom with your ass in the air and a completely pissed off and horny mate.

As soon as you reach your bedroom, Azriel throws you down on the bed unceremoniously. “Strip,” he commands, and his tone leaves no room for argument. As you get up from the bed to shed yourself of your clothes, Azriel makes himself busy with taking off his own shirt and unlacing the front of his pants. He leaves those on, though, his hard length straining against the material.

“Kneel,” he commands next. You pause for only half a second before you do as he says. You see he notes the hesitation, but doesn’t say anything. If you’re uncomfortable, you will say something, and he will stop. You know that fact like the back of your hand.

He pulls himself out with a hiss, his tip red and raw and glistening. You lick your lips, ready for him. All day you’ve teased and taunted him, getting him riled up and letting him simmer. Finally you’re reaping the fruits of your labor: for him to be rough, to not hold back, to use you as he pleases.

His shadows wrap around to pin your hands behind your back, making your chest arch forward. Your nipples are hard, core aching for attention, attention you know you won’t be getting for a while. Azriel brushes his thumb over your lips roughly, his eyes tracing the movement before locking with yours. All you see in them is icy steel, no hint of compassion or love. You know that it’s there, his love for you, but right now he has other emotions to contend with.

“Open,” he says, and it's almost quiet enough for you to not hear him, but you do. He doesn’t tease. He threads your hair through his fingers, gripping hard enough for tears to spring up, and shoves his cock down your throat. You choke, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps himself there, prodding the back of your throat, until you’ve managed to breath at least somewhat correctly.

And then he starts moving, long, slow dragges of his cock against your tongue, pulling out to the tip so just your lips are on him, then long, deep pushes back into the warmth of your mouth. All the while heat and ice clash in his gaze.

“I think the Mother gave me a whore as a mate. What do you think?” he purrs, cocking his head. “You’ve teased me all day, kept me hard, but refused to use me. And now you’re greedy for my cock. Did I get mated to a whore?” You moan in response, which draws out a low groan from Azriel. His pace quickens.

At this point your knees, wrists, and jaw are starting to ache, but you know Azrel is far from done with you. As if he can hear your complaining, he pulls you off of him with a pop. You pant, catching your breath, but it's short lived as Azriel grips your throat in his hand and hauls you to your feet.

He turns you around and bends you over the bed, not being gentle in the slightest. Your hands are still restrained behind your back, Azriel’s shadows circling tighter around your wrists. Ass in the air, you can feel your slick start to trickle down your thighs. You feel two of his fingers drag through your aching core, feeling how wet you are for him.

“All of this for me?” he asks, tone dripping with condescension. “You're so wet I think you can take me without any prep. What do you think?” you nod into the pillows, moaning and pushing yourself onto his fingers, searching for any semblance of friction. He pulls his fingers away, taking any chance of relief with him. “Words, Love,” he coos, but you know he's not being nice, not in the slightest.

“Yes, I can take you,” you breathe out, writhing under his scorching gaze.

“Good girl,” he purrs, then sheaths himself completely in you. You cry out at the stretch and the suddenness of being filled. Azriel doesn’t give you any time to adjust, though, before resuming his brutal pace.

The only place his hands touch you are your hips, and it’s driving you crazy. His grip is iron, and will definitely be leaving bruises. Your clit is throbbing, your arms ache from being restrained, your knees are growing weaker and weaker, and all you can do is take it. You're a moaning, whimpering mess, but you’ll never come from this little amount of contact, and Azriel knows that. You feel his pace grow irregular, sloppy, and then he's coming, painting your walls with his release.

He pulls out of you roughly, causing you to whimper at the sudden emptiness. “Did you think I was going to let you come?” he asks, voice lilting with amusement. When you don’t answer him, his hand comes down on your ass. Hard.

“No, I didn’t,” you cry out.

“And do you know why that is?” His voice is deathly quiet.

“Because I’ve teased you all day,” you respond quickly. He hums in conformation.

“How many of these,” he slides his hand over your stinging cheek, indicating the spank he just gave you, “do you think you deserve for your actions?”

You fight through the cloud of pleasure and arousal that currently fogs your brain to come up with a decent number. “Ten,” you respond after a minute.

“Alright, you count. We’ll say this was one, so the next is two. If you mess up, I restart. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” He hums again, and then his hand comes down, landing a hit to your other cheek.

“Two,” you cry. Azriel soothes the hit with one hand, his other coming between your legs to part your folds. He lands another hit, and this one comes down onto the skin of where your thigh meets your ass. “Three,” you moan, giving into his touch. The hand that's parting you teases at your entrance, collecting the mix of slick and cum onto its fingers.

SLAP!

“Four.” Your voice is growing hoarse. Azriel drags those essence-coated fingers up towards your back entrance. Before you can even anticipate what he's about to do, his hand comes down again, this time on the other side, and then he's pushing a finger into you, past the tight ring of muscle, working you loose.

You whine at the sudden intrusion, but Azriel works you open, and soon you're a moaning mess. Brain foggy from the mix of pleasure and pain, you almost forget what number you’re on, but quickly recover. “Five.”

Azriel continues to loosen you up, adding a second finger in between the seventh and eighth hits. By the tenth, you're a whimpering, boneless, drooling mess, and you haven’t even come yet. You can feel Azriel hard against the back of your thigh, once again ready to fill you.

Once Azriel believes you are loose enough, he spits into his hand, rubs it along his length, and sinks into you. You’ve had Azriel this way before, but every time, it feels brand new. The sensation is overwhelming, and by his fifth thrust into you, you’re shaking.

“Do you deserve to come?” he asks, tone still dripping with condescension.

“Yes, please Az. Please,” you beg. He only hums, adding to all your heightened emotions and feelings. His shadows are still restraining you, but are less tight than they were. It makes no difference though, because your arms are the prickly sort of numb, and you can barely feel them.

Azriel’s hand snakes around to play with your clit, the sudden contact causing you to cry out. His pace quickens, cock driving into you. His hips slap the tender skin of your rear end, only adding to the feelings.

You’re overwhelmed and on the verge of coming harder than you have in a while. All of the physical feelings - Azriel driving into you from behind, his fingers pinching and rubbing at your clit, his cum trickling down your thighs, your arms numb behind you - mixed with the emotional feelings - appreciation for your mate, his complete understanding of your needs, his patience, your love and adoration for him - all have you shaking, breathing heavy, tears springing up, and coming apart at the seams.

Azriel pulls you down, changing the angle, and the sensation is your undoing. You come at the same time Azriel does. You’re screaming his name like a prayer, tears streaming down your cheeks as sobs escape you. Pleasure racks through your body, waves upon waves building and crashing into you. The shadows release your arms as Azriel pulls out of you. You sink down into the bed fully now, curling in on yourself, shivering from the dregs of your high.

Azriel lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest. You’re still crying, but your sobs have quieted to small sniffles now. Azriel kisses you on the forehead, your temple, your cheek, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach until your breathing evens out. He pulls your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Was that okay, my love?” he asks, barely above a whisper so as not to startle you. You nod your head, afraid a sob will escape you if you dare to speak. But Azriel, as always, requires verbal confirmation.

“Yes, that was wonderful,” you choke out, and just like you thought, a sob escapes you. Azriel pulls you closer into himself, one of his wings coming around to cover you. He continues kissing you, just like before, until you're breathing evenly again.

Very rarely do you ever cry after sex, but when you do, it’s always because it was intense, both emotionally and physically. Azriel knows to just hold you and kiss you until you calm down, which could take minutes or hours, but he doesn’t care.

After what seems like hours of laying there, which just as easily could have been twenty minutes, Azriel shifts up from the bed. “Ready for a bath?” he asks, coming down to kiss away a tear still on your cheek.

“Ya, I’m ready.” Azriel picks you up bridal style and walks you into the adjoining bathing room. His shadows must have come in earlier, you thought, because the tub is already filled. It smells delicious, and the temperature is perfect as Azriel lowers you down into the water. He sheds his pants, joining you in your nakedness, and gets in behind you.

He snakes an arm around your middle and pulls you back into his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting him take over.

“That’s right Love, relax,” he purrs in your ear. He washes you thoroughly, and then does the same to himself. He gets you both toweled dry, then carries you back into your bedroom and puts you to bed, curling up next to you.

“Are you done teasing me for the foreseeable future?” he asks, placing a kiss to your temple.

“Never done teasing you, Az,” you respond, before you slip into sleep.

[safetypinxtales]

400 years | Azriel

summary: drinking with your best friend takes a turn when you happen upon some of Feyre's art supplies.

words: 3.2k

warnings: steamy 18+ mdni, nudity, sex is insinuated but not described, kissing, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly), reader and azriel are drunk, making out, big dick azriel, fluff, no use of y/n, neutrally described reader/no reader description

notes: happy valentines day, here's some azriel for youuu🤍 I got the inspiration for this whilst reading this fic by @solbaby7 bc who wouldn't want to draw az like one of your French girls?? Frankly there is nothing I would like to do more. Their fic is amazing and you guys should totally check it out if you haven't already! Anyways, I'm sorry for the "shut the door" type ending, but I cannot write smut to save my life so this will have to do. Hope you enjoy!🤍

masterlist

Thud.

The sound of Azriel accidentally smacking his head on the wall as he plopped down on the sofa across from you echoed within the walls of the cabin, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. Azriel’s own shaking shoulders and scrunched up nose let you know that he couldn’t help it either. 

But that was to be expected wasn’t it? The past hour had been filled with nothing but bubbling laughter from the both of you, giggles from Az, and some very graceful snorts… also definitely from Azriel. 

The reason why he had brought you to Rhys’ cabin in the mountains was long forgotten after the two nearly empty bottles of alcohol on the table in front of you. The heartache of getting stood up on your date earlier that evening buried under a considerable amount of drinks. 

“As long as the glass is never empty in between refills, they don’t count.”

Azriel’s words from earlier came back to you, only fuelling your cramp inducing giggles. 

That had always been your motto in times like these. A consistency that had lasted centuries. 

“I can’t breathe,” you wheezed out in between fits of hysteria, your arms coming up to wrap around yourself. But your laughter didn’t die down, and neither did Azriel’s. Your uttered words only seemed to fire him on as he tipped over on his side, hand landing a slap on the armrest.

Seeing him like this, so free and relaxed, was rare. You could probably count each separate occasion on your hands. He only really let go like this when you needed it. When the urge to drink your walls down and flush the pain away seemed like the only remedy to whatever situation you were dealing with.

It was a very rare occurrence indeed. But one of your favourites. 

Azriel’s carefree giggles, that luminous light in his eyes; you swore it could make budding flowers bloom.

You sat up straight, and the situation stopped feeling so funny as you laid eyes on Azriel’s still laughing frame. The uncontrolled giggles, and the way his wings shook in time with his chest. It was enchanting, the sight of your best friend being so relaxed, so happy. 

The shadows that were usually crowding his frame were nowhere to be seen – with the exception of the lone swirl of darkness slowly snaking its way around your wrist, coming down to entwine with your fingers every now and again.

It took a couple more minutes until Azriel’s laughter had finally seized. You both sat on separate sofas, smiles stretched wide and eyes glazed over from the alcohol you had ingested, and as your breathing started to return to normal a thought struck.

“What?” Azirel asked as he leaned forward on his elbows, a curious glint in his eyes. 

“What?” You prodded back, more confused than curious, blinking a few times to try and rid the alcohol-induced veil that surrounded you. What was he on about? 

“Well,” he waved one floppy hand in your direction, “you just perked up, it was like you grew ten inches,” he exclaimed, before continuing in a slightly lowered, bemused voice, ”and that means you just had one of your ideas.”

The corners of your mouth quirked upwards as you slowly nodded your head. He was right – you had come up with an idea.

“Well, I was just thinking about how Feyre mentioned after the last time she was here,” you stood up from your seat, swaying slightly but quickly finding your balance, doing your very best to not bump into the table separating you. “Something about forgotten art supplies.”

Like a predator sighting a prey, Azriel’s interest piqued in a moment. His razor sharp focus was on your every step as you walked towards the supply closet at the other side of the room. 

The closet was unusually dusty, a strange thing for being Rhysand’s property. He was usually very meticulous when it came to things always being spotless and presentable. But you supposed that a small, rarely used supply closet in the family cabin wasn’t a priority of his. Keeping it clean was not a good enough use of his magic. 

Luckily for you, that just made your quest easier. You just had to look for whatever was covered in the least amount of dust bunnies.

“Aha!” You whipped around to face your friend, triumphantly displaying the sketch pad and charcoals in your hands. 

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at your revelation, grin still present on his beautiful face.

“That’s your big idea? Drawing?”

“You should know I used to be quite the whiz with the charcoals when I was younger,” you rebutted and Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

“I have seen your penmanship, so I will believe this talent of yours when I see it,” he muttered and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer audacity in his words. Your penmanship was not that bad.

Taking a few steps back in his direction with a huff, you flipped through the sketch pad in search of an unused sheet of parchment. You were gonna show him, alright…

You couldn’t help but admire Feyre’s old sketches as you went through the pages. Some you recognised as early-version sketches of paintings you had seen around the river house, and some were–

“Oh!” Your fingers froze as your eyes landed on what seemed to be an anatomical study. A very detailed, very beautiful, anatomical study of – oh my Gods. You felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Is that Rhysand?!”

At the screech in your voice and the mention of his brother’s name, Azriel shot up off the sofa to get a peek at whatever had managed to pull such a reaction from you. 

The warmth of his body radiated into your side as he peered over your shoulder at the drawing of the very naked high lord. 

You noticed him stiffening out of the corner of your eyes and then, like a tether snapping, laughter started to boom inside the walls of the cabin. With a steadying hand on your shoulder he doubled over in giggles so contagious it didn’t take long before you joined in with his hysterics. 

“No way,” he wheezed, “oh Gods – I can’t wait to tell Cassian!” 

The mere thought of how Cassian would react to such a revelation, the look on his face, had you clutching your stomach. Poor Rhys would never hear the end of it.

And by the cauldron, if you don’t wake up with rippling abs tomorrow from the amount of laughter this night had brought….

“You can’t blame her though,” you mused once you managed to get your giggles under control, “I mean, nice job Feyre.” A low whistle left you as you peered down at your clearly blessed high lord.

The laughter quieted down beside you and you raised your gaze to look at Azriel, only to be met with an incredulous look. 

“What, I’m just calling it as I see it!” You exclaimed and raised your hands in defence, charcoals and disrobed Rhysand still in your grasp.

His eyes flicked down to the sketch pad, before slowly coming back up to meet yours, that look never leaving his face.

“Oh, please.” 

The words fell from his lips with such cool confidence your smile faltered momentarily, eyebrows knotting together.

“You can’t be serious?” He asked, and when you stayed quiet he continued, “that’s nothing.”

Nothing?

From where you were standing, respectfully, it looked like everything.

“What? Like you can do better?” 

Your challenge seemed to light a spark in his eyes and time slowed as he took a step backwards, fingers coming down to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

One swift movement and his shirt was off, muscles rippling under his bronzed skin as he tossed the dark fabric on the floor, his eyes not once straying from yours. 

He kept backing up, step after torturous step, until his legs hit the sofa. The corners of his mouth tugged up in a smirk as he plopped down, arms behind his head, far leg propped up, large wings casually draped over the armrest.

“Draw me then, whiz,” he challenged, using your word from earlier, “let me be your muse.” 

The heat crawling up your neck, scorching the tips of your ears, were not solely from the liquor as you padded over to the opposite sofa. 

No, it was from something very different. Something strikingly sobering, yet oh-so intoxicating. 

You sat down and carefully placed the pad in your lap, flipping through it until you reached a blank page. You moved some hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, picked up a charcoal and brought it to the parchment – when you felt yourself hesitate. You took your lip between your teeth as you contemplated your next move. The risk. The absurdity. The excitement. 

He was your friend. Your best friend, and yet…

You lifted your gaze to find Azriel’s eyes locked to yours with such focus, such challenge. Like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. 

His eyes flicked down to your hand, if only for a split second, as you gently put down the charcoal. He cocked an eyebrow when his gaze once again found yours. 

“I just,” you took a deep breath, “I just don’t think it’s really fair on Rhys, you know?” The shadow around your wrist flickered, as if sensing what you were about to do. The lines you were about to cross.

You watched as Azriel’s eyebrows drew together, and you fought the twitching of your lips as you continued, “I mean, you are still half clothed.”

With a slight shrug of your shoulders, you watched as your words sank in. How his eyes seemed to darken, the corner of his mouth raised in the smallest of smirks. 

“Is that so?” He mused, and you tried your best to level his stare. To not back down. Not shy away. 

With an incline of your head, you nodded. And watched his hand inch closer to his pants. Down past that dark trail of hair, to the laces tied together at the waistband. Watched as he grabbed a hold of the string… and pulled. 

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus on anything other than his hand. How his fingers untied the font of his pants so slowly, so delicately it felt like torture. You were transfixed by his fingers. Loosening the laces, his thumb slipping beneath the waistband…

You snapped your gaze up to his face, to find him still looking at you – studying you. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of his pants hitting the floor. With your eyes still locked to his, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. Here you were, in front of your fully naked best friend – about to draw him. 

Let me be your muse.

His words from earlier echoed in your mind as you tore your gaze from his face and dragged it lower, and lower, until…

Your head emptied. Your tongue felt about as dry as the beaches you had visited in Summer last year. Because the sight that beheld you was breath-taking. 

The length between his legs, standing aroused and proud, really did make Rhysand’s portrait look like nothing. 

A part of you had almost hoped that Azriel’s confidence had just been for show. That it was just his competitiveness shining through, a feat to best his brother. 

The reality?

Monstruos would have been a fitting word had the sight not compelled you so. Had it not caused you to burn for him. Crave him. 

Delicious seemed to be a better word to describe your friend. Beautiful. Mouth-watering. A thing of art.

Which is why you picked up your discarded charcoal and put it to the parchment. 

You studied the planes of his body, the hard lines, the soft skin. The muscles that could have been carved by the Mother herself. You avoided looking at his face though, instead focusing on the various scars that marred his skin, telling stories of battles and fights. Of brawls with his brothers. 

You felt him looking at you, however. He hadn’t stopped looking at you. Not since the sketch pad came into play.

It made it annoyingly hard to focus. 

The scratching sound of charcoal on paper stopped. 

“How long have we known each other?” Your voice wavered, mouth dry. You cleared your throat and raised your gaze to finally meet his. 

Azriel tipped his head to the side, contemplating, “about 400 years.”

400 years. And never before had you seen him naked. Not like this. Not splayed out like a feast, waiting to be devoured. Not with his gaze so burning you were afraid it was going to singe your clothes to ashes. 

“Right,” you mumbled, eyes flicking back down to your hands. They were smudged with soot, your thumb and index finger blackened, that lone shadow still curiously snaking around your wrist. 

That is a very long time.

Azriel seemed to notice how the little confidence you had faltered, for he straightened somewhat from his leisurely sprawl. 

“You okay?” There was only soft concern enveloping his words, a drastic change from the tension flooding the space between you just seconds before. 

It was a very long time, indeed. So why didn’t this feel wrong? 

You let out a deep breath, “yes, I think so.” 

Your answer apparently didn’t settle his worries though, because he raised from the sofa and rounded the table between you. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as he stopped in front of where you sat. 

Only when he lowered his hand – fingers coming to rest under your chin, tipping you face up – did you meet his eye. 

The heartbreaking concern written all over his face seized your heart. The soft furrow of his brow. The slight dip at the corners of his pouty lips. The brutal softness swimming in those hazel eyes. 

It took your breath away.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t trust your voice, not with the vulnerable proximity between you. All you managed was a meager nod. A small up and down bob of your head. 

His fingers tugged on your chin, and as if in a trance, you followed the wordless command and rose to your feet. 

“I need you to use your words here, sweetheart,” his voice was soft, but the underlying command was undeniable, “please.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you swallowed and managed to breathe out “I’m okay.” 

That seemed enough to ease Azriel’s concern, a breath of relief fanning across your face. 

“Good,” he murmured, almost as if more to himself.

His eyes left yours, and flicked down. To your mouth, you realised, as his thumb moved from your chin up to graze your bottom lip.

That intensity was back in his gaze, that predatory focus – all directed at you. His thumb pulled at your lip before letting go, and the shudder that overtook your body could have made the earth shake.

There couldn’t be more than a foot of space between you. 

So dangerously close.

He was your friend. 

Right? 

“400 years,” you whispered, eyes flicking down to follow the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “400 years of friendship.” 

You felt light headed. 400 years, and all could be thrown away as easy as breathing. All you had to do was take half a step.

“Three,” Azriel’s voice grumbled above you as your eyes trailed down to inspect the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Hmm?” Your mumble was absent minded, your thoughts being too preoccupied by the male in front of you. What he would feel like. Taste like. The sounds he would make if you dipped your head and licked up the drops of sweat beading at the center of his chest.

“That’s how long I’ve loved you. Three hundred years.”

You froze. 

The thickness coating Azriel’s voice was not something you were familiar with. Nor were the words he uttered.

Your gaze snapped up to his, scanning his features for any sign that he was, for some reason, making the cruellest joke in all of Pythian’s history. But all you found was open, unguarded truth. 

Azriel loved you?

Azriel loved you. 

The rapid beating of your heart was a stark contrast to just how very safe you felt. How right it seemed to take that half step forward. To cradle his face in your hand, the other coming to rest on that glorious chest – right over his own heart. And as you felt that wild drumming beneath his ribs echo your own, nothing seemed as easy as rising up on the tips of your toes and slotting your mouth against his. 

The kiss was tentative, like the two of you were just dipping your toes in – testing the waters. You moved your lips against his, gently, savouring the feel of his pillowy lips. The feel of his body so close to yours. How the scent of him seemed to envelop you. You savoured how easily he took all of your senses hostage. 

He was everywhere.

The sound of Azriel’s wings rustling behind him, the rapid beating of his heart in his chest, the taste of liquor on his lips – it intoxicated you in a way you didn’t know was possible. 

You stayed like that, gently exploring each other's lips, savouring each other's closeness, until you had no other choice but to break away for air. 

You pulled away only a few inches, rapid breaths fanning your faces. The pounding of your heart didn’t seize, and neither did his. You could feel every rapid beat under the hand still planted on his warm chest. 

“Your heart is beating very fast,” you whispered, voice shaky from your breathlessness. 

He swallowed, “It is.”

“So is mine,” you revealed. 

“Yes, I can hear it.”

Oh. 

“Will you kiss me again?” Your voice was so low, you wouldn’t have known he heard you if not for the strangled sound he let out. 

Or for how he grabbed you by your waist and captured your lips with his. 

This time the kiss was less gentle. This time he pressed your body against his as he devoured you. It was all tongues, and teeth, and needy gasps.

His teeth pulled on your bottom lip and you thanked the Mother he was holding you so tightly, for your knees almost gave out. A throaty groan escaped you as his hand cupped the back of your neck, angling your head upwards and deepening the kiss further.

Your own hands found his hair – and pulled. The deep rumbling in his chest and the way he moaned your name into the kiss was your undoing.

This kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative.

It was claiming.

And so you let him claim you. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded as you laid down on the sofa, Azriel’s body on top of yours. And as you crashed together, entangled limbs and sworn promises, you let those 400 years of friendship, of tension, of longing dictate the start of this new chapter.

A chapter of what would hopefully be 400 years of something more.

Want to be added to my taglist?

tags: @missus-shadowsinger

[heartless-tate]

Just Friends? | Dark Azriel X Freader

Summary: You and Azriel are just friends. Who fuck. Or at least that’s how you see it. So what happens when you find out Azriel sees it completely different?. 🧁 | 2.6k words

A/N: I was feeling spicy today for some dark azzie boo bear. FYI, if you’d like this rewritten with a male reader, please ask!

WARNINGS: NSFW content, p in v?, oral F receiving, choking, murder(not reader), torture(not reader), shadow play, slight angst in beginning, fingering, slight degradation, slight manipulation, reader with she/her pronouns. with a pussy. THIS IS YANDERE CONTENT. ITS DARK AND POSSESSIVE.

The apartment is eerily silent. It’s dark, and shadows seem to liter every surface tonight. The stench of mold and something rotten doesn’t overwhelm your senses much anymore. Living here on this side of Velaris, you think you’re use to it. You didn’t bother turning the lights on. They always left a weird dim and yellow setting. The moonlight rays from the windows were enough light for now.

You stood in the cramped kitchen, in front of the oven. You stared at the cupcakes baking inside. Then at the clock; 3:04 am. You hadn’t been able to sleep and why not bake cupcakes? The inner circle would certainly enjoy them tomorrow. Not to mention it’d give you an excuse to question Rhysand of Azriel’s whereabouts. He always stops by your place at least once every three days. Or around that. It had been a week. You were lonely. And sexually frustrated. It was hard to get off without his long scarred fingers pressing into your skin, holding you close like he might lose you, and his cock pumping into you teasingly slow. Nothing compared to the feeling of it. Of him.

Going from fucking everyday, on almost any surface, to nothing within a week was driving you crazy. You needed it. You needed him. And not just sexually. But he couldn’t find that out. You wonder if you shouldn’t have had sex with him that night. Started whatever this mess was. Friends? Or what was it books called it?

Friends with benefits. You two spent the day time as friends, hanging out, talking, and at night you fucked like rabbits during the mating season. Or any time of the day really. You have had a crush on Azriel ever since you met him. How could you not? He was kind. Different. Quiet. And you both hit it off so easily when Rhysand introduced you to the inner circle. it seemed like he was always there. And if he wasn’t, his shadows were. Sure, you don’t have him as yours. But he was your friend. Your best friend. And that was enough. Or at least you tried to convince yourself that.

And so when he came back from a mission, sweaty and heated up from anger- you couldn’t help but relax and let him take control. You had had a stressful day too. Why not? Why not let your hot bestfriend fuck you senseless? That’s where the downfall was. You were just pity fuck or a way to blow off some steam for him. You see the way he’s always talking to Elain. You satisfied him for now. So you would happily reduce yourself to what felt like a sex toy, waiting for him in your shitty apartment in hopes maybe one day he would return your feelings. And more then ever you hated that you missed him, and not just the sex. You didn’t even have a clue to what day it was.

You approached the calendar on the wall and peered at it. He said he’d be back today. Or yesterday- since it’s 3:06 am now. He lied. Maybe he had found another woman. Jealousy swirled inside of you, ever growing like an invasive species. You slumped back down beside the oven. This was depressing. You felt like some lonely sad and depressed wife waiting for her husband to come home. Except he wasn’t your husband. And this wasn’t his home. And one day he’ll find another woman and you’ll be nothing but a faint memory in his mind.

A shadow scurried to you, dancing excitedly, others surrounded and curiously observed you. You watched as they scattered around your body as if searching for any harm. You paused- his shadows were back. Which meant he was back. And near. The shadow dancing in your face swirled and gently brushed against your cheek as if consoling you. As if it knew you were sad. You heard the door open to your apartment. You stood running to the living room watching as Azriel entered your apartment. He looked so out of place here. He slightly reeked of blood. As if he hadn’t washed it off yet and had just used magic to hide it for now. His hair was tussled and his eyes were oddly alert at this hour. He smirked at seeing you standing so excitedly. More shadows rushed to join the ones dancing around you, as if celebrating you.

You were so happy to see him again! But he was late. And probably was with another woman. You frowned and stepped back slightly.

“Where were you?”You questioned, crossing your arms. The shadows slowed to a lazy swirl. His wings tucked in slightly. He approached.

“Does it matter love? I’m here now.” He whispered cunningly, pulling you in by your hips. His fingers quickly moved underneath the baggy T-shirt of his you were wearing to grip at the flesh of your hips. He smiled at you broadly as if just noticing you were only wearing his shirt and panties. Your eyebrows furrowed. He could scent your arousal.

“I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other.” You snuffed out. His wings tucked in further, his eyes flashing with darkness for a slight second.

“Do not question me.” He whispered softly. Azriel pulled you in closely nuzzling his cheek against your hair. He flinched when you jerked away angrily. He watched as you started back to the kitchen.

“Fine. It’s whatever. After all we’re just-“

“Don’t you fucking dare say friends, Y/n.” He snarled loudly. A sharp contrast from his before behavior. Before you could respond he was pulling you back, your back hitting his chest. It was like he snapped. His arms wrapped tightly around your center, holding you still as his wings surrounded you both.

“The only reason I’ve been putting up with your fucking friends with benefits bullshit is to give you time to adjust.” Azriel said, hands roaming. It became difficult to focus.

“What? What is that suppose to mean Azriel?”

His hand found it’s way to your clothed cunt, feeling the wet spot on your panties. He snickered. Of course you were turned on. His hard chest pressed into you and you could feel his erection firmly prodding against your back. The size difference between you two was almost unbelievable. You had been turned on since you got lost in thought of him earlier. Since that wet dream you had. You mewled softly as two tendrils of his shadows slither their way under your shirt and rub against your perked nipples. Azriel smirked and kissed your neck slowly. He moved your panties to the side and dipped his finger into your gushing cunt, enjoying the sounds it made. And the ones you made.

You couldn’t help the moans that escaped in response. It felt like you were on fire. Azriel was always capable of reducing you to a moaning incoherent mess within seconds. His long scarred fingers started pumping in and out of you, pressing into the one spot that made you cry out. His other hand grasped your throat and forced your head up to face him. His amber eyes were dark and piercing, a feral look on his face. It was terrifying, and yet you felt your body react differently then your mind did.

“What it means is, this pussy is fucking mine. This body. This mind. You’re fucking mine. You’ve been mine since the day we met. My beautiful foolish mate. I waited for the bond to snap for you, but it hasn’t yet. So when we started fucking, I assumed it would snap for you soon. And I could give you time to grow use to me, to having a lover and someone who cares for you. I know nobody has cared for you in a long while, sweet little thing. I knew you would need time to adjust. But it seems maybe you got the wrong idea. We’re not just friends. We’re mates. You belong to me. I belong to you. There will never be anyone else for us. Just me and you.. for eternity.” He whispered possessively in your ear. His feral smile only seemed to grow, making your own fear- but also pleasure grow? His thumb rubbed at your clit at a breathtaking speed, eyes sharp as they watched you squirm. He refused to let go of you though. Holding you close. You couldn’t process his words clearly. Everything felt too good. Too right. Like you belonged there- in his arms.

“W-wait az-“ you whimpered out trying to jerk your hips from the overwhelming heat building in your core. Azriel didn’t relent, shoving a third finger in you, dragging it slowly against your walls. He started pumping them in, every-time he hit the spot he knew that would make you dumb. The spot he knew would make you cock drunk when he angled his dick to press into it every-time he pumped into you. The shadows twirled and pinched at your nipples, creating a mix of pain and pleasure. They knew you enjoyed it. Azriel knew you did with the way your soaking cunt spasmed. You were close. He could see it in the way your body went limp against him. His hand grasped at your throat more aggressively- cutting off some of your air. His eyes were narrowed as he forced you to look at him. He knew you were close by the foggy and dumb look you gave him.

“Cum on my fingers princess. Make a mess.” Azriel purred sweetly, pressing his hard on into your back for some friction. He smirked knowingly when you cried out silently, hands clawing at his arm that was wrapped around neck. He felt the way your walls tightened, clenching around his fingers and he felt wetness leak around them. He released your throat, letting air back in. You gasped for air desperately. Your cunt was gushing around his fingers, a mixture of wetness and cum dripping drown his scarred hands. You clenched around nothing at the sight as he pulled them away.

“Atta girl. Look at you, making a mess of me hands. Clean it up hun.” He cooed, raising his fingers to your mouth. You obediently opened your mouth, allowing his fingers to be shoved into your mouth. You sucked them, tasting yourself. He groaned at the sight, pressing his erection against you again. Shadows suddenly swarmed around you both, and all of a sudden you were inside of Azriel’s house. Well- one of them. He had a penthouse, and a secluded cabin-house? It was deep in the forest and and secluded with the sense of a cabin but much more bigger and fancier. It had a modern look to it. He kept it secret, as it was a hide away for himself, but he always brought you to it.

He pushed you against his bed, mounting you like a feral animal. Both of your clothes disappeared- except for the shirt of his you had on. It stayed. His shadows swirled around you two. His erection prodded your ass.

Azriel seemed much more animalistic now, as he rutted his erection agaisnt you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he lifted you to him. He pulled you into a long, wet, and sloppy kiss. He nipped your lips until swollen and slightly bloody. And you returned it, happily, forgetting everything else. For now. He pulled away when you tapped his arm, needing air. He stared as you regained your breath.

“You wanna know where I was?” He asked, using his knee to knock your legs wider. His hand reached in between yours, feeling your wetness. He ears twitched at the sound of your soft gasp.

“Y-yes” You stuttered out, rutting into his hand.

“I was hunting down that pathetic excuse of your landlord. After you told me about how he threatened to touch you to make up for your lack of money and the missed payments, I went and found the fucker. I had to go on a mission Rhys sent me on, but I told him to count his days. When I got back, I found him and fucking destroyed that piece of shit.” Azriel growled proudly, taking in the scent of your fear and confusion. “He screamed like a little baby, louder then any other girl I’ve tortured before. I made it hurt. Nobody gets to fucking talk or touch my girl like that. Nobody.” He huffed out, chest puffed up with pride.

Azriel grunted when you shoved him away and scrambled to the headboard. His head titled with confusion. He scented your fear and his ears picked up the sound of your heart beat.

Azriel killed someone. You realized. He killed your landlord. It was hard to wrap your head around it. You knew he wasn’t innocent but the Azriel you knew was soft and kind. Not- not this. He killed someone. For you. Someone died. Because of you. Dread filled your bones. He crawled forward. Straddling your hips before you could move. His naked body in all it’s glory.

“Oh sweet thing, don’t be scared. I would never, ever, harm you. Don’t be afraid of me. I was just protecting you. And your landlord wasn’t just threatening you. He was doing it to other females. It’s okay, princess. He was just getting his deserved consequences. Can you imagine how many woman I could’ve possibly saved from his harm tonight? Don’t be scared of me. You’re safe.” Azriel purred out, wings flared. His cock rested on your stomach. You couldn’t help but relax as his scarred hands slowly spread your thighs. He’s right. Azriel’s always right. Someone could’ve been hurt if it wasn’t for him. He was doing you, and other women a favor. There was no reason you shouldn’t just relax and enjoy this. Him.

He smirked, hooking your legs upon his shoulder. Azriel, rubbed gentle circles in your thigh. He admired your pretty cunt. And then you. In his shirt. Smothered in his scent- inside and outside. In his bed. In his house. Where no one could disturb you. Pussy on display for him. And just him. He moved his hips down before nose diving into your pussy, scenting you. You smelled and tasted divine and your cute yelps and squirms of shock only spurred him on as he lapped at your gushing cunt for more. You tasted divine. Better then he could imagine. His hands held tight, nails leaving crescent moon shapes in the soft flesh of your thighs. Azriel couldn’t help but groan and whimper loudly at your taste. Tongue lapping and lapping like a starved man.

“Azzie!” You squeaked out, hands clutching at his hair, hips rutting into his face. His eyes were stuck on you, staring you down like a lion who had finally caught its favorite mouse. He groaned before pulling away, your wetness dripping down his face. He held eye contact as he licked around his mouth, enjoying your flavor. He grabbed the base of his cock and slapped it against your swollen clit, watching as you squirmed and yelped, sensitive. You were so adorable. His shadows slithered around your body before multiple restrained your limbs down. Leaving you helpless and vulnerable to him.

You relaxed. Azriel would never hurt you. He’s always been there for you. And this is what you wanted- him. And even better- he was your mate. Yours. And you were his. Who cares if he brutally killed your landlord? He was just doing his job as your mate. Protecting you. And plus, you have an excuse to move in with him. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be living this bed for a long, long, time. And as he slowly lined his fat cock with your soaking cunt, you couldn’t help but remember one thing. Your fucking cupcakes.

[hannieehaee]

NEEDLE IN THE HAY

18+ / mdi

summary: after swearing off dating due to a messy breakup, wonwoo finds himself being forced out of the house by mingyu, joining the 97 squad as an honorary member. what wonwoo didn't realize, however, was that he'd end up swallowing his words after meeting the newest addition to the friend group.

content: idol!wonwoo x idol!reader, pining, friends to lovers, wonwoo's pov, reader is a 97 liner, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, angst (with a happy ending), some self-deprecating thoughts from wonu </3

wc: 8.5k

a/n: can u guys tell i love idol aus or what .. anyways, this time i used proper capitalization since this is long as fuck! hope u enjoy even if its a bit of a mess <3

masterlist kofi/patreon

support me through a one-time tip! <3

Wonwoo was going through a slump.

As commonly known by his fans (and probably non fans too, by now), Wonwoo had a girlfriend prior to debuting. He's not entirely sure how the news came about to the public (something about a trainee leaking information ..?), but in reality that didn't really matter. What mattered now was that he now had to relive his messy breakup over and over again as people made it a bit of a 'meme' among the fandom. It wasn't like it made it to the news or anything, but even the reminder was enough to bring back the bad memories surrounding it. All the low self-esteem and doubtfulness that was attached to it. The breakup might've been distant by now, but the news breaking out were fresh, causing Wonwoo's wounds to reopen.

Now, Wonwoo didn't blame carats for this. Under any other circumstance he would've also found it comedic, but after it being a few years since the breakup and not managing to find a long-term relationship ever since, Wonwoo found himself in a slump once more, just like he felt when he was freshly broken up.

She, who shall not be named, was one of his closest friends in grade school. She hung around when he was nothing more than a lanky loser (not his words, but that of a few rowdy kids at school). She'd seen him and respected him before the world even knew his name. And then she'd become more than a friend.

As Wonwoo first made the decision to join Pledis, he was entirely unsure of himself. He wasn't untalented by absolutely any means, that much even he knew. He was growing to be a handsome young man, and was discovering new skills every day. But he didn't feel like he stood out enough to make it all the way to debut. His girlfriend, however, stood by him and gave him the strength to continue, which he did in hopes of making not only his family proud, but what he believed to be the love of his life proud too. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was a teenager, who could blame him for thinking himself in love?

Soon after came his debut. Things were going great. The sole fact that he had made it to debut with 12 of his friends and fellow trainees had him over the moon. He had fans now; supporters who thought the world of him. He had a happy family waiting for him at home, and a girl he was infatuated with that he could keep all to himself, away from the public eye. Everything was perfect. Until it wasnt.

It was as predictable as you'd imagine. The fame, the limelights, the constantly-changing schedules. It was all too much for someone who could do no more than watch from the sidelines. The issues began a few years into his debut. He felt her begin to pull away. To be fair, he might've unconsciously pulled away first, but his life was getting too hectic for things to be the same as before. Maybe it was his fault for believing that she would evolve along with his life, willing to follow him as he continued his journey with his 12 friends.

If that had been the end, maybe it would've been okay. But the breakup had not happened just yet. We could've stayed friends if we had only ended it there, he'd thought many times. Unfortunately for Wonwoo, a clean break just was not in his cards. He found out about it through his younger brother. The betrayal. The disrespect. The heartbreak. He would've rathered she'd broken his heart face to face, you know? Maybe that way it wouldn't have hurt years into the future as it continued to do.

She had found someone else. It was some guy she met in college (something Wonwoo thought he'd do someday, but had chosen the life of an artist instead). There was nothing wrong with the guy, it just wasn't Wonwoo. He thought that maybe if she'd told him, he would've understood, would've been sad, but would've respected her decision, but no, she made her choice. Had she forgotten to break up with him beforehand? Was he just an afterthought? These were the questions that plagued Wonwoo's mind years after the fact. He had decided to confront her with what his brother had seen. Them together at a cafe, too close for comfort. What was saddest was her lack of denial. She didn't even fight back; fight for him. She had turned it around into his fault. As if he'd forced her hand. What broke Wonwoo more than the betrayal was the look of disdain in her eyes. It made him feel like maybe he was the villain. That maybe even if he tried, he just couldn't be loved in that way.

That's how he found himself in this situation. Two years past the five year long relationship, coming across another post detailing a theory of whether or not Wonwoo was still with his 'pre-debut girlfriend', as people liked to call her. He believed himself to be over the girl, but couldn't find himself to admit whether or not he was over the hurt. Only time would tell, he guessed.

"Come on, hyung. You can't stay here every time you have one of your episodes. It's been years, you have to move on!"

Mingyu was getting ready for another outing with his famous 97 squad; this time the attendees being Eunwoo, Jungkook, and Y/N. He was trying, yet again, to convince his elder of joining him and his friends. Maybe he wasn't a 97-liner, but he was well-liked by all the members of the group, and he figured the outing would do his friend some good, seeing as he was once again down in the dumps over his old girlfriend.

"I told you it's not that, Mingyu," responded Wonwoo, barely facing away from his computer, once again gaming during his very limited free time.

"Okay, if you're truly not sad about that anymore, then come out with us! It's been a while since you've even left the apartment, and you've never actually accepted any of my invites out! If you don't like it, we'll leave. It's all people you've already met anyways," reasoned, a very stubborn Mingyu.

"I don't actually know any of them, Gyu. Saying hello whenever they come visit you doesn't really count as knowing a person."

"Okay! Fine! What do you want? What do I have to give to get my best friend to hang out with me? Money? You're rich! What? You wanna play video games? They like video games, too! Come. On. Just this once."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, knowing his friend meant well, but not wanting to be around people while he had one of his usual slumps.

He pondered it for a minute. Maybe it'd be nice to be with other people like him. He'd never really made friends within the industry outside of the members and a few people he'd politely nod to as he walked the hallways of Hybe. Maybe it was time he broke out of his shell and befriended other people who would understand the loneliness that came with being an idol.

"Fine," he replied before his friend could hit him with another rebuttal to his denials. "Just this once."

Wonwoo didn't know what he was expecting any time Mingyu would bring up his outings with the 97's. With Mingyu's extroverted and eccentric personality, both in and out of the public eye, he assumed he meant clubbing or at least hitting up a pub. He wasn't sure what you or Jungkook or Eunwoo were into, but he assumed you'd be somewhat like Mingyu. But he couldn't have been more wrong.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that his loud friend's friends all had a very striking contrast to him. The three idols sitting around him in Eunwoo's (whose name was actually Dongmin, apparently) apartment all seemed very quiet and calm. Their personalities also all seemed to match his better than that of Mingyu's, which made him come to the realization that maybe that was how they'd all befriended each other; through the overgrown puppy's incessant need to befriend everyone in every room he walked into.

Wonwoo appreciated Mingyu, truly. His outgoing nature would sometimes make a shy guy like Wonwoo, who liked to keep himself as small as possible, a little uneasy at times, but be appreciated his best friend's constant aid in getting Wonwoo's mood up. Even now. He hated to admit it, but his sudden decrease in mood seemed to be rapidly disappearing thanks to the new change of environment.

He had quickly taken a liking to Mingyu's three friends.

Dongmin was nice and insightful. A pretty face and a very interesting mind. He saw a bit of himself in him.

Jungkook was polite and funny. He was the perfect balance of childhood friend and college heartrob.

You. Well, Wonwoo hadn't quite figured you out yet. Admittedly, this had been the first time you'd ever spoken past a polite greeting or an inquiry for Mingyu's whereabouts, but he had been able to get a read for the other two members of the group. You were the outlier.

What he knew, though, was that he liked you. Okay, not like that, but there was an easiness that you seemed to carry with you. You were simply easy for him to fall into conversation with. It had already been a few hours (and a few drinks) since Wonwoo and Mingyu had arrived to Dongmin's apartment, and you and Wonwoo had been engaged in ongoing conversation shortly after arriving. And the conversation didn't seem to be heading towards its end any time soon. It had begun as a group outing (well, indoors), but to Wonwoo it now felt like a one-on-one, as the three remaining members of the 97's seemed distracted on their own, leaving you and Wonwoo to converse with each other freely.

-

"Okay, yeah. That can be kind of annoying, but how can you complain about Mingyu?! He's such a sweet guy," you laughed, responding to one of the many lighthearted disses of Mingyu Wonwoo had been feeding you with.

"You don't have to live with him. He's even louder at home," he chuckled.

"Then move out! I live alone now, finally. I love my members, but there's nothing as nice as being alone after coming home from hectic schedules."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Can't do that, though. I don't really like being alone that much," he revealed.

"You? Really? Then how come it's taken Mingyu this long to get you out of the house?," you inquired, leaning towards him with interest.

That was something he liked about you immediately. You listened. You showed visible interest in what he had to say. Granted, none of the things you'd been talking about thus far were groundbreaking (so far you'd managed to speak of predebut stories, hopes for your respective groups, current hobbies, a few movie and book recommendations here and there, and endless other things), but he still appreciated someone outside of his family and members who showed interest in what he had to say. Still, part of him believed he might've been so starved for affection he could've just been reading too much into it.

"Oh," he chuckled. "He told you about that?"

"Fuck. Okay, don't tell him I said this. And I mean it, I trust you, Wonwoo," you paused. "He told us he'd been trying to get you out of the house a bit ... that you'd been feeling down."

Oh. Okay, now he felt a bit awkward. Why would Mingyu give opening for him to receive pity even from strangers?

"Oh. I-"

"So, I insisted he invited you come out with us."

Oh?

"You did? I .. How come?"

"Well. Honestly? I've been there. Having your members is great and all. And if you have a supportive family, that's even better. But our lifestyle's too isolated to not have as many people around us as we can. I don't know how I managed to navigate the industry before meeting Mingyu. He really took me under his wing and made sure I felt welcomed with the other 97's, even with all the shit he got for hanging out with a female idol so publicly."

So, that's how you'd met. Man, he's always known Mingyu as one of the nicest people he's ever met, but this truly made him take the cake. He remembered the articles that came out about both you him (and a few of the other 97-liners) when they'd made you the first female addition to the friend group. He didn't pay them much mind, seeing as dating rumours come by the dozens among idols, but he hadn't really stopped to think about how it might've affected you.

"Did he tell you about .. why I kept saying no?"

"No. And I didn't want to intrude. Your battles are your own, Wonwoo, unless you want to share them."

Well, fuck. He was wrong. Well, right. Both. You did care. You didn't even know him, but you still cared. Or at least it seemed like it. He couldn't really wrap his head around the concept. He hadn't let anyone in (other than his 12 brothers) about what had happened. He had never felt the need to. He felt embarrassed by it. I mean, it was just a break up; an old one no one even knew about. Yes, he got cheated on, but it had been years ago. He should be over it by now. Even though people kept bringing his ex up. But why did he feel like he could confide in you?

He considered it. Telling you, that is. But he quickly realized that was just the alcohol talking. You had just met. He didn't want to scare you away. Hmm. Maybe he should circle back on this thought at some point. He also didn't want to make you privy to the most embarrassing thing about him (the green room shenanigans did not hold a candle to his pathetic heartbreak story if he had anything to say about it). So, he decided to save it for another time. He'd already decided in his head that he'd want to see you again. Maybe he would take up Mingyu on his offer to join the 97's as an honorary member.

The conversation eventually circled back to something more lighthearted, allowing Wonwoo to enjoy your company for a few more hours before Mingyu decided it was time for them to leave, knowing his friends probably had busy days tomorrow, just like any idol would.

Wonwoo couldn't sleep. The effects of the alcohol were fully gone by now; his loose tongue tightened back up and his mood regulated once again. Despite that, his mind was still clouded with thoughts of you. He had originally chalked it up to alcohol, how he felt a strange sense of disappointed upon having to bid his goodbye to you earlier tonight. But, lying in bed many hours later, he realized it was all still in his head. Your long-winded conversation, the drinks you shared together, the genuine care in your eyes, even Mingyu's stupid smirk as they walked back into their apartment, muttering something along the lines of 'I knew you'd have fun'. It was all still running around in his head, depriving him of sleep. He felt an odd sense of anxiousness. Excitement, maybe? He wasn't sure. He was looking forward to finding out though.

-

The next day was filled with schedules. A quick appearance at a comeback show in the morning, followed by a fitting back at the Hybe building, along with a few hours of practice with the boys. He'd always enjoyed hectic days like this. While tiring, they kept his mind occupied, and allowed him to spend the day with some of the people he treasured the most. Seeing carats early in the morning was also a treat. Even if for only a few minutes, walking past the crowd of people waiting for his arrival at MNET was always nice. It made him put a face (well, multiple) to the people who loved him most.

He was now ending his day, just as soon as it had started, when he heard a voice call to him from across the long hallway. Turning around, he found ... you? you! what were you doing here?

"Wonwoo! Wait up!", you quickly caught up to him as he halted his movements in order to wait for you. You two then began walking together.

"Hey ? What are you doing here?"

You stopped. "Really? Wonwoo! I work here? My group's been here for a few months now, did you never notice? Hybe acquired my company last year," despite your shock at his ignorance, there was no actual anger or annoyance in your voice.

He felt kind of bad. You'd spent grand part of last night letting Wonwoo know how much attention you'd paid to Mingyu's retellings of Wonwoo's problems only for him to not know the most basic of things about you. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was with small details like this that his ex began to pull away.

"Oh, wait, Wonwoo. I'm not actually mad, I'm sorry. I just assumed you already knew," his face must've told on him. He had to admit that he was kind of paranoid after what had happened. He'd already ruined a few friendships (along with the relationship) with his lack of attention to the people around him. He didn't want to add you to the list of failed relationships so soon.

"Ah. Sorry. I don't really keep track of those things too often. I'm too distracted sometimes."

"I get you. There's too many new groups at Hybe for you to have noticed anyway. Anyways! Are you done for the day?"

He felt his heart accelerate at the thought of you wanting to know what his future whereabouts would be.

"Uh, yeah. I was heading home actually?"

"What? Nooo! Mingyu's taking Jungkook and I out to a little discreet pub he knows. You should come with. Please. They're so annoying when Dongmin's missing," you pleaded, making eyes at him.

You wanted him to come? You were inviting him? He hadn't really gone out for a few weeks (since he began to see people speak of his 'pre-debut ex-girlfriend' that everyone assumed was still in the picture). He had to admit, he found it kind of funny how carats would whine at the idea of him being taken. That was kind of the silver lining; a slight lift to his bad mood surrounding it. He-

"Wonwoo? It's okay if you don't wanna come. I don't wanna pressure you!"

Oh, shit. He was in his head again. He needed to break these habits if he wanted to work on his people skills.

"Oh, sorry. No, I was thinking of something else, sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, "I .. yeah, I'd love to come," he found himself agreeing.

Wonwoo was not an awkward man by any means. His fans and many others knew him as a charming guy, which he really was. He was just going through a weird period in his life. That and you made him nervous for some reason.

"Great,"you smiled back at him, further increasing the speed of his heart.

Wonwoo was extra exhausted after today's events, not being used to outings with people outside of his members after already tiresome days. For some reason, his social battery always drained almost immediately when around people he wasn't too familiar with, and tonight he'd chosen to spend the night at a pub full of strangers. But, hey, at least you were there.

Once more, you and Wonwoo found yourselves in one-on-one conversation. Although Mingyu had been slightly surprised to see his friend arrive with you at the selected meeting spot at the pub, he gave Wonwoo a knowing smile, glad to have his friend out of the house once again.

The goodbye was, again, dreadful for Wonwoo. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't usually someone to get attached so easily, but your name just called to his ever since that first time he met you. This time had worsened his condition. You drank together, exchanged numbers, maybe even flirted(?) a little, and then went your own ways, sharing a quick hug as you departed.

He hated to rush things (even if it was only in his head), but he had to admit to himself that he liked you. Yeah, like that. He felt like a teenager again; giddy at the thought of you, crushing on the pretty girl his friend introduced him to. He had unofficially sworn off dating two years ago when he broke up with her, but it wasn't like that was too big of an effort considering his dating market as an idol wasn't very expansive anyways. He also didn't want to assume things. You were just a friend. But you were also so pretty, and nice, and you had so much in common with him, you even shared a career! You were just his type, he realized. He wondered why you hadn't dated any of the 97's before. Wait, maybe you had a boyfriend. One Wonwoo, of course, wouldn't know about since you'd just met. Fuck. There he went again, letting his mind spiral over the smallest of things. He needed to give himself a break and just enjoy your friendship. Enjoy the good things he had instead of thinking of the bad. That had been a struggle lately.

You and Wonwoo continued to meet occasionally like that. Eventually meeting almost daily at the company. You'd stop by his practice room to hang out during work, and vice versa. He also found himself begging Mingyu to let him join in on his outings, wanting to see you even after work. He tried to be casual about it, but as soon as his smug friend realized the reason behind Wonwoo's sudden interest, he teased him endlessly about it, making jokes like 'But you're a 98-liner, why would you wanna hang out with us kids?,' a smirk glued to his face. He hadn't told Mingyu about his crush (nor would he ever admit to it), but Mingyu's correct assumption of his feelings for you led his friend to try and become a bit of a matchmaker. He'd now taken a habit to purposely leaving you and Wonwoo alone, even dragging his other friends away when they'd try and make conversation in order to get the two of you together. He was embarrassed by this, but was even more embarrassed that he was kind of thankful for his friend's actions.

Wonwoo had been enjoying the time he got to spend with you alone. Like now. Mingyu had invited you, Dongmin, Jungkook and Jaehyun over to his (and Wonwoo's place), something that didn't tend to happen before since Mingyu had wanted to respect Wonwoo's privacy. This was your first time here. Your first time in Wonwoo's room (door open, of course) as he showed you some of his recent photography that he'd told you about in your previous meeting. Once more, he felt like a teenager as he showed you his art, giddy at your endless compliments towards his talent.

"Jesus. So many idols pick up photography as a hobby, but I'd never seen any of them be actually good at it. Wonwoo, these are amazing!", he heard compliments like this from fans and staff alike very often, but it just had a different effect when it came from you.

He wanted to deny you; be bashful about it and chuckle a polite disagreement to your compliment, but after getting to know you better these past few weeks, he knew that wouldn't fly with you, instead opting for a shy 'thank you' in response.

"I'm serious, Wonwoo. You should do a showing or something! Your fans would love it. And .. you should teach me also!", he loved how enthusiastic you always were. It reminded him a lot of his best friend. Maybe that's why he liked the both of you so much.

He turned his head to face you as you sat next to him on his bed, lap to lap. He hadn't realized how close you had been sitting to one another in order to look at his laptop screen. Before he could scoot away, you turned your head too, now having only a few inches between your faces.

You looked at each other without saying anything, Wonwoo's breath hitching. Any reasonable man would've pulled you in for a kiss as soon as he noticed your eyes trail down to his lips, clearly inciting him to do so. But Wonwoo wasn't a very reasonable man. He was a mess of unreasonable emotions, which led him to his first mistake.

Seeing as he wasn't doing anything, you seemed to become frustrated at his lack of action, leaning in instead of him. Now, that would've been perfect if Wonwoo were, you know, normal. But the end result was less than favorable. As you leaned in, he panicked, getting up from the bed in a rush and creating a very obvious space between you. Your eyes widened, and he caught a hint of hurt and embarrassment behind them at his actions before you quickly took control of your expression.

"I, uhh. It's getting late. You have an early morning, don't you?", fuck, why the hell was he saying that?! Was he kicking you out? Wonwoo kicked himself in his mind, but his mouth kept running against his will. "I have an early morning, maybe you should, uh .."

He caught that hurt in your eyes once more as you responded. "Oh, I .. Right. Sorry .. Yes, I do, actually. I should go now .. Thanks for showing me your pictures. Have a nice night, Wonwoo," you were being far too cordial with him, seemingly making it a point of using overly formal language when the two of you had agreed before to speak casually; as friends.

He fucked it up. Again.

He watched you leave without stopping you. He had every chance to as you looked back at him one more time before exiting his room. He had another chance as he heard you close the front door to his apartment. He could've ran after you (even speed-walking would've sufficed, really), but he stood there like an idiot.

Wonwoo was right. He was incapable of love. Romantic love, at least. He still had many friends and a loving family back home, but he had been right to believe himself unlovable after his ex had left him. Turns out she was right. It was all his fault.

A few weeks had gone by since he last saw you. The text messages between you now unexistent, and the chance for reconciliation dying further every passing day. You hadn't tried to contact him after what happened, nor did you wait outside his practice room every day as you had taken a habit of doing a few weeks into your friendship. Mingyu's invites to hang out with his friends were now left unattended by Wonwoo, not wanting to sour your free time with your friends with his presence. He'd ruined everything, he admitted to himself. It was obvious to him and everyone else that your friendship had begun to blossom into something more. There had been hints here and there of your reciprocation of his feelings, but they terrified him, so he chose to ignore them.

He thought about his feelings, but not yours, he had come to realize a few days after the fact.

He had wanted to kiss you so badly. He'd dreamt about it, even. He felt silly to admit this, but you'd become such a constant in his life in such a short period of time that he found it easy to imagine you there forever now. He felt the same way he did back in high school when he believed himself to be in love with his ex. He realized now that those feelings for her had dissipated quickly after his debut. They'd only been together for so long due to the familiarity of it. Maybe that's why his ex had such a hard time breaking off things with him. Maybe that's why she chose to cheat on him instead. Maybe that familiarity was what made the situation such a mess in the first place.

He had gotten out of his slump thanks to you (and Mingyu, maybe), but now he had fallen right back into it, even worse this time.

It didn't take long for his roommate to notice his friend's absences in their outings, or the stark difference in his mood as soon as he got home every day from being an idol. Mingyu had the privilege (not really) of seeing how whatever happened between you took effect on the both of you. He saw his best friend fall back into his previous depressive state, while he saw you become a shell of yourself. He didn't know what happened, and he honestly didn't care. No one asked for his help, but he was going to give it anyways.

By some act of god, Mingyu was able to convince Wonwoo to leave their apartment long enough to participate in an upcoming outing once more. He had promised that the only other attendee would be Jungkook, as the plan was to have some drinks at the man's house. Other than you, Wonwoo had taken a special liking to Jungkook, having many things in common with him. Wonwoo had only agreed to attend in order to lessen any suspicion Mingyu may have had about the reason behind his current low mood, but he was also happy to see one of his new friends again.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, Mingyu was a meddler. He wasn't entirely sure why he was even surprised at seeing you walk across Jungkook's front door as he sat on one of his couches, drink in hand. An unsuspecting Jungkook let you in, not taking notice of your shocked face at spotting Wonwoo just a few meters away. Wonwoo should've known that Mingyu would get involved sooner or later. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed at his friend's nosy nature.

Despite your initial shock, you were polite with Wonwoo. You interacted as you used to before the two of you had gotten to know one another. Just a few nods and tight smiles. It killed him inside a little bit. He wanted to fix things; to at least get your friendship back even if he couldn't allow himself more. He would sneak glances at you as you joked and drank with your two friends, feeling a smile grace his face at your laughter. At least you were happy, he thought.

The four of you eventually ended up in one of Jungkook's many guest rooms. This one was a viewing room, as he called it. Special for whenever he wished to invite friends over for a movie. You all sat and shared some commentary at what was playing on screen. To any outsider, this would've looked like the perfect outing. And maybe it was to Mingyu and Jungkook. But the air between you and Wonwoo still felt tense, even despite the occasional nod of acknowledgement you'd make to one another whenever your eyes met.

In a very unpredictable turn of events, Mingyu had managed to get you and Wonwoo in a room alone, dragging Jungkook away under the excuse of doing an impromptu live for his fans. He knew Jungkook wouldn't miss the chance. You and Wonwoo sat next to each other in the now empty movie room, neither of you making a move. He saw you looking at your hands from his peripheral, solemn look on your face. You were usually very talkative and lively. He felt terrible at how his presence in your life had caused such a stark difference in your demeanor. So, he did what he usually wouldn't do, and spoke up first.

"I .. How have you been?"

Great way to break the silence, Wonwoo.

You sat in silence for a beat or two, "Wonwoo, it's fine. We don't have to do this. I'm already embarrassed enough as it is."

Embarrassed? Why would you be embarrassed?

"Embarrassed? At what?"

"Do I really have to say it? I thought I read things right. I thought maybe you might've maybe liked me back. I didn't .. I didn't mean to ruin our friendship over some stupid kiss.," you wouldn't look into his eyes as you spoke, even as he uncharacteristically stared at you with all his attention.

"You ... You didn't do anything wrong. I should've talked to you. Fuck. I should've apologized. I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean. I panicked. It was so soon. I didn't want to pressure you," he had gotten up now, now sitting next to you on the couch.

"Pressure me? I kissed you. Well, tried to ..." you finally turned to look at him in his new proximity. Okay, progress, "I'm sorry, I kind of had an idea of what you were going through and still pushed you. It hurt me that you froze me out like that, but if it was what you felt like you needed to do, then I understand," you said with a sad smile that didn't meet your eyes.

God, why were you so understanding? He felt like an asshole. He was an asshole. Freezing you out was not something he wanted to do to you, but the result of his cowardice. He knew he had hurt you, but your admission to it only made him feel worse.

"You didn't do anything wrong! You- you did what I wanted to do that night. What I was going to do before I backed out like a coward. I wish I'd handled things differently. I wish I'd kissed you .. I-" he was beginning to feel shy at his almost-direct admissions of his feelings towards you, but he needed to continue. He was going to continue, but you had different plans.

As per usual, you knew him better than he did himself. You knew exactly how to salvage the situation without making him open up more than he felt comfortable with doing in his current emotional state. You grabbed his face, interrupting his speech, and ..

You kissed him.

"Like that?", you'd softly asked against his lips.

It was nothing like you'd see in movies. Just a small peck accompanied by your soft hands holding onto his cheeks.

You began to pull away almost immediately, too soon for Wonwoo's comfort. But that kiss had been enough for him to finally snap into action like he should've done weeks ago.

He grabbed you this time, pulling your lips against his again, putting much more into the kiss this time.

He'd never kissed someone like this. He'd kissed many people after his breakup. Hell, he'd done far more than kissing. But none of those moments held a candle to this one. Nothing compared to your soft moans against his lips, or the feeling of your pliant back against his palm. Nothing defeated the feeling of your hands restlessly looking for a place in his body to hold on to. He kissed you with every emotion that had been piling up since you two began to really get to know each other. No, since he first began to spiral into his depressive state. There was not a single emotion in Wonwoo's body that didn't go into that kiss.

Then came other stuff.

Wonwoo hadn't really thought about the sexual aspects of his attraction to you. Other than a few of the restless nights spent alone in his room, you in mind. As he kissed you, however, he couldn't help but begin to feel aroused. You were so pretty and so so soft against his arms. You had both begun to lean down, with his body hovering over yours, holding his body weight above you as not to crush you. You kissed mindlessly for a few minutes, at some point beginning to moan messily against each other's mouths.

Your tongue eventually came out to play with his, making him lightheaded at the sudden wetness of the kiss. You both began to feel dizzy, arousal clouding your minds. Wonwoo tried to pull away, wanting to confirm if what was happening was okay with you, but you wouldn't let him. Instead you pulled him even closer, forcing him all the way on top of you, your crotches now face to face. He decided to take the risk and begin a slow grind against you, which proved rewarding as you began to mewl against his lips, allowing his tongue to roam freely inside your mouth.

Then came even more stuff.

"Wo-wonwoo, please."

God, there was no way he would make it if that's how you sounded after just some light dry humping.

He managed to actually unglue himself from you this time; eyes lidded and breath heavy.

"Baby .. let me .. can I?", he questioned, hands approaching your nether area.

You grabbed his wrist, walking him the rest of the way, nodding desperately as you pressed his hand against your clothed cunt.

"Please, yes. I need you."

He undid the drawstring from your sweats, you aiding him in lowering your sweats just below your ass.

He neared you as much as possible as he began to rub your cunt over the thin fabric of your panties, kissing and biting at your neck as you mewled at the friction. He did this for a while until he decided to bury two of his fingers inside your cunt, making sure to rub your clit lightly with his thumb. He calculated his movements, wanting to go for a slow and steady pace that would have you lightheaded.

You moaned and whined at that, your body not knowing what to do at the pleasure Wonwoo was giving you.

He began to speak against your neck, praising your beauty and the way you oh so prettyly cried for him.

"Wonwoo .. oh, fuck Wonwoo please. Please ..." he wasn't sure what you were begging for, but he wanted more of it. So he sped up, wanting nothing more than to hear your cries of pleasure as he fingered you to completion.

Upon meeting your high, you disconnected from one another, still holding a very close proximity as you shyly smiled at each other. He helped you clean up the slight mess you had made on the couch under you, pulling your sweats all the way back up and helping you get on your feet. Neither of you said anything as he guided you out of Jungkook's apartment, not bothering to say goodbye to your friends. You both knew what you wanted with just a few looks at one another.

You then found yourselves in Mingyu's car. How Mingyu was going to get home, Wonwoo didn't know nor care. Payback for meddling, Wonwoo guessed. All he wanted now was to take you home and show you how much you meant to him.

He had his left hand on the wheel while the other held your hand over the console. You both felt giddy at the small displays of affection you'd been showing each other, sharing shy smiles and blushing at catching the other staring. It was kind of funny considering your current destination. It was all mostly wordless until your fast arrival to Mingyu and Wonwoo's shared apartment, where you both finally stopped to speak before entering the door.

"Wonwoo, wait," you stopped him before he was able to put his key in the lock.

"What's wrong?"

You seemed uneasy. Maybe this was too soon? Had he gone too far by what he did in Jungkook's house? Fuck. Okay, maybe fingering you in your friend's house while your friends were in the other room right after confessing to you (did he even confess ??) wasn't the best idea for a reconciliation. Maybe he should'v-

"Are you sure about this? I .. I don't wanna pressure you ..."

You were far too considerate of his feelings for his own good. But he didn't care about his feelings right now. He cared about yours. Because if you were happy, then he was happy. He just wanted you.

He turned his body to face you, grabbed both of your hands and squeezed lovingly. He no longer felt that sense of anxiousness when speaking his feelings to you. He felt at ease, and he wanted you to also.

"I'm sure. I want you. Anything you'll give me. If you want to go past that door and just let me hold your hand, I'll take it. If you want me to drive you back home, I'll do it. If you want to tell me off for making you wait for me to grow the balls to show you how I felt, I'll understand that too. Forget about my pace. It's been enough about me. I want to think about you. It's all about you," he finished his little speech feeling not an ounce of bashfulness, but rather an uncharacteristic sense of relief. He felt more than content at freely telling you how he was feeling.

You smiled up at him. "It's always about you for me, Wonwoo."

It took a bit of convincing from you, really. Repeating over and over again pleas and words of affirmation to ease his mind. He felt bad. He did say this was all about you. Which is why he'd insistently denied you when you first walked across the door, hand in hand, and immediately begged to suck his dick. He was caught off guard at first. He wanted to take care of you for once, not the other way around. You'd argued that he already had, insisting that he'd be doing you a favour by letting you get his cock in your mouth. Now, that .. that had gotten an involuntary reaction out of him. He couldn't help himself. You were a pretty girl - now his pretty girl - practically begging to get his dick wet. Batting your eyelashes at him and running your hands up and down his chest, muttering words such as "you'll let me take care of you, won't you?", or "i just wanna make you feel good," or his favorite "just a little bit, baby, want it so bad. been dreaming about it .."

That's how he now had you on your knees as he stood with his back against his front door, hands holding your hair out of your face as you tortured him with your tongue. You had prepared him by rubbing his dick for a minute or so, then moving onto kitten licking his tip and running your tongue ever so slowly up and down the protruding veins. You were taking your time, clearly enjoying his stuttered breaths above you.

You finally wrapped your mouth around him, sucking and licking at the tip, making all thought in his mind leave him immediately. He threw his head back against the wall at the pressure and warmth of your mouth, groaning out your name.

"Fuck .. just like that. Shit, I-fuck," there was no proper sentence that could leave his mouth as you fully enveloped his cock in your mouth, moaning around it.

Then he made the mistake of looking down, staring directly into your eyes, which were rolled back in pleasure, brows furrowed in concentration as you gave him your best performance. He hadn't known pleasure like this in ages, staring down at your pretty face as you lost yourself in the pleasure of the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You continued like this, doing everything that seemed to get a reaction out of him until drawing him almost to completion.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum. You gotta- fuck. Baby, wait. Wanna fuck you ..." he tried to stop you, not wanting to cut the night short before he could get you as close as physically possible to him, your walls warmly wrapped around him. The thought did not help matters, as he felt his end approach even sooner. You also did not seem to care, as you fastened your movements and moaned even louder against him, vibrations triggering his impending orgasm. You swallowed every bit he gave you, humming at the taste.

You must be evil, he thought, watching you continue to lightly suck and lick at him even past completion, not caring that he half-heartedly tried to push you away from the slight overstimulation. When you finally pulled away, he held your hands in order to get you back up to your full height, eyes glued to your lips. He couldn't help himself. He felt depraved at the thought, but he needed to taste you and the remnants of himself twirling in your tongue. So he did what any sensible man would do, and shoved his tongue in your mouth, intertwining yours and his as he sucked his remaining juices out of your mouth and gave them back to you as he dragged your tongue back and forth. You moaned loudly into his mouth, growing restless at the lack of pleasure where you needed him most.

You pulled away, and wordlessly gave him eyes that could only mean one thing. Your eyes always got to him. One look and he'd give you whatever you wanted, so he promptly held your hand once more and led you to his room, laying you down on his bed and slowly undressing you. He wanted to savour every part of your body he'd been dying to see. Every article of clothing he removed, he caressed the skin behind. He faced you away from him and felt you up from behind, running his hands up and down your body as you pressed yourself even more against him, dizzy at the pleasure of his hands against you. He fondled your breasts and ass, wanting to commit them to memory. You moaned at the way he touched you, enticing him to continue. After a while of worshiping your body, he laid you back down, your body now facing him, and undressed himself.

He felt a strong sense of pride at the moan the sight of his bare chest pulled out of you. Your hands drew themselves towards him as you ran them up and down his chest, forming goosebumps anywhere your fingertips graced. He finally lowered himself down and pressed your chests together, wanting to be as close as possible.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, as if it was a secret no one could ever know, "You're all mine now. Never letting you go again", he began to grind his bare length against you, now hard again against your folds.

You whined at his actions, mind clouded by his words of affection. "Nonu ... please. I need it. Need you, just- Argh! Fuck ..." he swiftly entered you, interrupting your pleas for him.

God, you felt so tight and warm around him. Your body so pliant and soft against his. He had never felt more bliss than when you arched your back and pressed your tits against his chest, harshly digging your nails on his shoulders as you moaned out his name.

Pleasure overtook his mind, making him wax poetic at you endlessly, letting out his deepest of feelings for you.

"Want you always. Can't breathe without you."

"Never wanna be away from you again. You're everything."

"Gonna keep you ... keep you close to me. Just like this ..."

Then came something not even he expected himself to utter.

"L-love you. Fuck. So much. Is it too soon? I love you. Never felt like t-fuck .. like this before."

His words seemed to have an instant effect on you, as you tightened impossibly harder around him, crying his name as your orgasm suddenly hit you. The tightening of your walls, along with knowing the effect he had on you, brought Wonwoo to his end almost immediately after, claiming his orgasm on your stomach as he pulled out with a high whine of your name.

A few minutes of cleaning you up later and Wonwoo found the both of you under his covers, you laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around one another, softly running his hands up and down your arm. No words exchanged between the two of you.

As per usual, you broke the silence, turning yourself to face his side while still in his hold. He mirrored your actions, holding you even closer as you stared into each other's eyes, shy smiles on your faces.

"I love you too. It's not too soon. I love you, Wonwoo."

Your words took his breath away once more. What he had confessed in the throes of passion was being reciprocated. He hadn't shared the three words with anyone ever since his break up. His breakup, which had been the furthest thing from his mind ever since he had realized his feelings for you.

You fell asleep like that; holding each other tightly and muttering words of affection at each other every so often until sleep won you over. Wonwoo had never had such peaceful sleep, having never had the pleasure of holding someone he cared so much about in his sleep.

The news broke out quickly. Not to the public, of course, but to Mingyu, who had found you in bed the next morning when he'd noticed your absences last night, rushing home worried that maybe his plan to get you two to talk had backfired. Safe to say that Mingyu smugly took credit over your reconciliation (he might've deserved maybe a 15% of the credit). Then the news broke out to the 97 liners, who happily welcomed Wonwoo back into the group under the name of honorary 97-liner. Then his group mates found out, along with yours. They were all very accepting, having noticed your feelings for one another before you even did. Finally, the news broke out to your shared company. This was the trickiest one, but your insistence in the validity of your love for one another was able to triumph over any obstacles.

It had now been a few months since that fateful night, the words I love you being uttered between the two of you daily. Even as you worked your busy idol schedules and had distance put between you every once in a while, your relationship prospered, giving Wonwoo a new sense of what being loved truly was. He no longer felt like his ex had been right about him being unlovable. You had taught him to know better, while he showed you the same care in return.

Wonwoo no longer winced at the mentions of his 'pre-debut girlfriend', but even laughed along at the memes his fans made about their favorite idol being taken. Now knowing that, yes, he was taken, but had something even better now; you.

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Deity - Altar

tw: yandere behaviour, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, diety uses he/him pronouns, gaslighting, yandere using his abilities to mess with reader’s perception of reality

“Haven’t you come to worship at my altar?”

•A lone Deity part of a forgotten pantheon, lost to the sands of time. What once was a bountiful temple; filled with offerings and gifts of fruits, meats, candles, with sounds of prayers and hymns of worship ringing through the halls, people streaming in to sing his praise, is now nothing but an empty ruin.

•He’s so very lonely. Nary a person has come to visit him in centuries. Years pass by and he has nothing, no one. Until you. A fateful eve when you happen upon the temple. Hidden away in the heart of a lush jungle, you, an archaeologist, find your El Dorado, your city of gold. You’d long since heard tales of a lost civilization, an Atlantis on land. Yet, here the remnants lay in front of your eyes.

•At the heart of the ruins lays a temple, grand and golden. Although time has chipped away at its’ grandeur, it’s still glorious, in your opinion. It’s a testament to humanity’s evolution. You don’t notice him though, no one does. But he’s noticed you. Nosy little thing, aren’t you? Impudent, little mortal wretch. He ought to kill you for your audacity. Daring to defile his sacred temple, you deserve nothing but the most painful end,

•But, you’re not actually defiling it, are you? You’re so respectful, treating every artifact as though it were the Holy Grail. You revere his temple, it’s a wonder, a marvel to you. It, you treatment, you reverence— you make him feel something new, something foreign. The attention you give him is intoxicating. He’s been forgotten, left behind. Yet, you’re here now. And he isn’t going to let you go.

•So, when a series of natural disasters occurs and suddenly your team is halved, some leaving after the first incident, others meeting fates you don’t want to recall. The others are slowly losing hope, they’ve lost friends, money, time to your passion project. This is your life’s work, you can’t just give up, can you? You don’t want to. You really don’t. But you’re smart enough to know when to cut your losses.

•Then, another freak accident hits. This time is more devastating. Nobody escaped unscathed, nobody escapes at all. Nobody is except for you. You slip in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re in the rubble amongst your dead coworkers and friends, and suddenly you’re in a bed, soft and warm. You’re delirious, unable to actually make out anything. But you’re certain there’s someone taking care of you. A man. A beautiful man, something, someone, divine. His touch is soft and gentle. Caring even. He placates you with sweet platitudes you can’t quite comprehend in this state, but the smooth baritone of his voice makes your heart soar.

•When you fully regain consciousness, you’re able to see your surroundings. You’re in a room filled with luxury. Ornate decor, golden furniture, the whole nine yards. It’s impressive, if not a little, a lot, off-putting. How did you get here? Who was the man taking care of you? Thousands of questions and thoughts flood your mind. It’s interrupted by him, the man.

“You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

•You blink in confusion. It’s—he’s— everything is too much. Too overwhelming. He chuckles, it’s a rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. He reassures you, slowly and gently placing a strong hand of on your shoulder. There’s something commanding in his soft tone, something compelling you to swallow the lump in your throat and obey. He laughs again and you blush.

•He introduces himself as the one who’s been taking care of you. Doesn’t offer you any explanation as to why, but you ought to be grateful. After all, you could have been left out to die. He offers you food and water. You eat like a man starved and drink the water as though it were the sweetest ambrosia. He offers to let you stay here— where is here?— with him.

“You may leave whenever you decide to leave.”

•He promises, even escorts you out of the room, down halls that moves and shift, and spin around. You’re dizzy, delirious, unable to care for yourself. He carries you back to the room. How embarrassing. Your apologies when you regain your composure are shrugged off. It’s fine, he insists. You’re sick, vulnerable. He reiterates his offer, stay until you get better— you could’ve sworn he said stay forever— and are able to fend for yourself. You nod your head in agreement. It’s the logical choice, really. You’d probably die on your own.

•He smiles a brilliant smile at you, swears he’ll care for you diligently. And he has been, hasn’t he? You’re beginning to trust him, have faith— why?— in him. He stays true to his word. Working tirelessly to care for not only your body but your mind as well. Sleepless nights are spent with him by your side, telling you folktales and myths, singing soft lullabies to lull you to sleep, or even merely conversing with you. Days are spent improving your health. He feeds you by hand sometimes when you are too weak to do it yourself. When your health shows signs of improvement, you both go on walks, exploring the extensive gardens and many palace— temple, building, you’re not sure where you are— halls.

•He gifts you with many things too. Soft silk robes, shining jewels, ancient tomes and books, everything you desire you’re given. It’s not your fault, really, that you start to love him— do you?— especially not when’s he’s so kind. So handsome, beautiful really. He looks inhuman, like something divine. He’s attentive and nurturing. Your own prince charming. Your feelings grow as time progresses— how long has it been, you need to leave— until you can’t contain it.

•One day, as he presses a warm cloth to your forehead, you notice just how close he is. How he’s just out of touch. You greedily drink it in, unconsciously inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. The kiss is soft, chaste and you immediately pull away. Your stammering and feeble apologies are interrupted by his hand cupping your cheek. He leans in, your heart thumping in your chest, and kisses you again. This time, you don’t pull away.

•He, your lover, your heart loves you too. It’s surreal— too surreal— and your days spent together become all the more special. You’re utterly content with him, he’s become the air you breathe, the light of your life, you’re everything. It’s only natural for you to become consumed by him. By your life with your beloved— to forget you ever had a life before— spending eternity forever in his arms.

“We only have until forever, love.”

[allforthegayphase]

TW: rape

Something I really appreciated about The Sunshine Court was its nauseatingly realistic depiction of rape culture.

Jean’s (repeated, violent) sexual assault isn’t treated as something horrific; in the toxic environment of The Nest, it’s normalized. The real story — Riko ordering 5 male players to rape Jean as a sadistic way to ‘break him in’ — is quickly twisted by his abusers; Jean is seen as a calculating vixen who slept his way to the top, for a Perfect Court number:

They continuously mock and taunt Jean with senseless jokes about it. There is an element of jealousy at play; Jean is a prodigy player, and, as he says himself at some point in the book, his older teammates didn’t enjoy being shown up by a child. They certainly enjoyed knocking him down a peg, though, by humiliating him and creating an illusion that he only got his spot on the team for sleeping around, not his talent:

Even one of his rapists, Grayson, continues this false narrative despite knowing the truth (or maybe he even convinced himself this narrative is the truth; that Jean ‘seduced’ him for a spot on the starting lineup):

Other ravens who don’t know the truth seem to quickly believe the narrative that a 16 yo chose to sleep with a bunch of his superiors for a personal gain; that is certainly easier than entertaining the thought that your teammates (friends?) are capable of something this horrific. Or maybe they simply don’t question it too hard; after all, Jean can’t tell his side of the story.

The rumors eventually spread outside the Nest. Jean’s reputation is tarnished to the point that this is one of the first things strangers on the internet learn about him:

The most heartbreaking detail about it all is Jean’s age. He was a 16 boy on the college team, the youngest player on the lineup; a foreigner who couldn’t even speak English when he arrived; an outsider. Despite the fact that his young age is something that even the ravens find particularly scandalous about the whole situation, Jean’s agency is never questioned. He’s not seen as a minor who was taken advantage of by older, superior men — and most of them are quite significantly older, having already graduated by the time Jean’s 19; Grayson seems to be the youngest of them and he’s at least three years older than Jean.

As many victims of SA, Jean had no choice but to continue living with his abusers side by side, pretending like nothing happened. Knowing there’s absolutely nothing he can do.

The first time someone voices concern over the questionable circumstances surrounding the whole situation happens in this conversation with Jeremy (to be fair, it seems like Jean's age isn't public knowledge but the ravens obviously know):

And as many victims, Jean internalized his experience as something he deserved on some level:

TLDR: Sexual assault is, unfortunately, a very big part of our culture; it’s not just something that happens in the dark alleys; rapists aren't just scary strangers. They're also your friends, peers, teammates. The way the Nest (and the general public as a whole) turns a blind eye at best and mocks and humiliates the victim at worst is a microcosm of how SA is largely treated in real life. It was genuinely fascinating to see it depicted so realistically, even though it made for a heavy read at several points. I hope Nora keeps up the good work, and we'll see further exploration of the topic and Jean dealing with his trauma in the next book.

[wesstars]

love, at second glance

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: that’s what you do when you love somebody else… wc: 1k tags: all characters 18+; no ghostface au. angst, horribly excessive use of italics (seriously, everything in italics is either a quote, a thought, or actual emphasis. it’s terrible) a/n: what’s up y’all (title from 715 - CR∑∑KS by bon iver)

masterlist

Tara wondered when it all began.

You and me, me and you.

A mantra that used to be comforting, it now left her mouth dry, mind frantic. 

Sometimes, when it got real bad like it did today, she’d drive out to your—our—deserted garage, and look up into a pitch black night, blinking away tears. It was easy to scream at the sky: how could you forget about me about us about milkshakes shared about distances closed about how I love you and love you and love you—but to you, she’d say nothing.

She couldn’t say anything, while you basked in the glow of a new hand to hold. It was all over in a helpless shrug. That was it, and really, it wasn’t your fault. Nobody’s fault. You couldn’t help it, Tara reasoned, you weren’t cruel. Even at the very end, you were endlessly kind. Commitment was a choice, but love, love happened to you away from Tara and she couldn’t do anything but watch.

Tara switched the engine off, leaning back in her seat. The stars shone barely brighter than the city lights. It was strange, the way that when she was on the brink of losing everything, the world looked that much more beautiful. Every breath in that particularly cold winter felt like it was being swallowed up by the vastness of air itself, precious in its scarcity. 

“But I love you.”

You said nothing for a moment, a troubled little frown twisting on your lips. “Tara, I—”

“I love you.” She heard, rather than felt, herself repeating it. As if stopping you from speaking would make that cold reality any less crushing. “That’s all.”

It was odd, Tara decided, to go online and see your life in the pictures she used to be part of. She put her phone down. From tide pulls to seasons changing, there wasn’t exactly a world where she envisioned herself going on without you. There was something in that sinking feeling, like you were holding her down with a hand on her chest, when she saw you laughing with your friends, with anyone, a smile so brilliant it couldn’t possibly have Tara as the cause. 

You’d always wanted a little cabin in the woods (“not in a creepy way,” you’d insist) surrounded by mist, and it would always be raining. “You’re the only sunshine I need, Tara Carpenter.” She could still hear the way you’d tease her, lying on your side next to her, tracing the bridge of her nose with your fingertip. So easy it was, to tumble back into those shining memories where absolutely nothing would go wrong, you wouldn't let it, because she was yours.

The top floor of the lot was empty, and the moon spilled onto the windshield, into the empty passenger seat. She was lucky, you both were lucky, to have even come as close to the sun as the two of you did. Tara knew, deep inside herself, that if she just let it all go, she would be okay. The blood would rush back into her fingertips—you wouldn’t be there to massage the feeling back into them, the way you often did on winter nights like this—and then she would be okay.

Tara thought that she remembered too much for someone so hurt. Your hand on her thigh while you drove, wiping her lipstick off your cheek, the way you seemed so so so unhappy when you sat her down for one last time. You didn’t even look the same then, like you were somebody else, you weren’t hers anymore. It was getting colder in the car, but Tara didn’t feel anything but the searing coil of shame. 

Sunkissed March found you and Tara lying side by side on a picnic blanket, sodas losing their fizz as time forgot to move the two of you. A breeze ruffled the leaves, and if she really listened, Tara could hear the frogs in the nearby pond. You loved it here—you said it reminded you of hot summers spent in the countryside, the days as long as wildflowers. Not half an hour ago, you were braiding together the stems of daisies into a lush crown. 

“For you, Queen Carpenter,” you said in a posh accent. “A gift from your humble knight—each braid represents a ‘forever,’ and each flower is an ‘always.’” You set the crown atop Tara’s head, kissing the tip of her nose as she rolled her eyes.

“And what has compelled my knight to bring me such a gift?”

“Only all of the love I carry for you, your majesty.” You scooped her up in your arms, smiling as she giggled, rolling the two of you over to settle into the knolls of grass.

There was a certain bravery in the way your fingers wrapped loosely around hers, the way the heels of both your shoes made indents in the dirt—proclaiming, we were here. Even in her doze, Tara could feel you there, each moment stretching on like strings of eternity, unfailingly. 

The moment did end, as moments do. The crown, dried and shrunk, still hung from the rear view mirror in the car. The daisies themselves were long gone, but the dried stems had somehow stayed bound together. Tara’s head dropped into her hands, eyes sore and red. She’d thought so much and so often about where the two of you went wrong, she felt like she had turned over every stone in your path, ones that didn’t carry with them the weight of a goodbye. Tara would give anything to even know what it would take for you to stand in the sun with her one more time.

The abrupt knock on the window should’ve startled Tara more than it did, given that it was four in the morning in an empty parking lot, and she was supposed to be all alone. But all she could do was watch with wide eyes as the knock came from you, at your tight lipped smile. She rolled down the window, unable to feel anything but shock as she took in your mismatched shoes with untied laces, your shirt way too thin for the cold night. You weren’t looking at her, guilt evident in the hunch of your shoulders. Your voice comes out exactly as she remembered it. 

“Hey… can we talk?”

--

a/n cont'd: don't super feel like i like this but writing it came naturally so

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist