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diaryofawhoretbh · 13 hours ago

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fine line pt.2 | thanos (choi su-bong)

REQUESTED by: @pillowcolorsstuff = "Could you make it like a part 2 of this thin line | thanos (choi su-bong)? like with thanos and his group having a cute moment with the pregnant reader?"

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none

hope you like it!!! enjoy :)

the dormitory was dimly lit, its cold steel walls doing little to ward off the chill of the night. the faint hum of the overhead lights buzzed like white noise, but within your little group, there was warmth; an unspoken connection that had formed over time, despite the brutal games you all faced.

you sat on a makeshift mattress on the floor, leaning against the wall as su-bong sat beside you, his presence grounding. to everyone he was thanos, but to you, he would always be your sweet su-bong. no matter how cocky he seemed to everyone else. his hand rested lightly on your belly, his thumb moving in soft, slow circles over the fabric of your jacket. every so often, he'd glance at you, his gaze soft and filled with concern, checking to see if you were comfortable. it was a tenderness he usually reserved only for you, something that made your heart swell every time.

"are you sure you ate enough señorita?" his deep voice was low, barely a whisper, as he spoke, his lips brushing your ear in a way that sent a warm shiver down your spine.

you rolled your eyes playfully, feeling his breath on your skin, but smiled all the same. "for the third time, yes, i'm fine babe."

he chuckled softly, squeezing your hand in reassurance before gently touching your belly again, his fingers tracing the curve of it like it was the most precious thing in the world. "you better eat. that's not just your baby, it's mine too." his tone was playful, but there was a serious undercurrent to it. his hand stayed on your stomach, warm and steady, like he was anchoring both you and the baby in place.

you couldn't help but smile at the way he said it, his words so full of quiet devotion that it made your chest ache. "you're really serious about this whole dad thing, huh?"

"hell yeah," he said, his grin turning a bit cheeky, as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, soft but lingering. "you're stuck with me, remember? we’re in this together."

you chuckled, feeling a light flush creep up your neck at his affectionate words. "well, i guess that's not the worst thing," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

the sound of nam-gyu’s voice interrupted the moment. "here," he piped up from the other side of su-bong, ripping his bread in half and holding it out like it was the most natural thing in the world. "you've gotta take this. the little bean's hungry."

"nam-gyu, you haven't eaten anything yourself," you protested, shaking your head.

he waved off your concern with a dramatic flourish. "i'm not growing a whole human in me, am i?" he said with a grin, clearly proud of himself for making the offer.

"take mine too," se-mi added, sliding her milk carton toward you with a smile. "seriously, it's not even that good."

"guys, i'm fine," you said, a laugh bubbling in your chest at how insistent they all were.

"fine isn't enough," min-su shyly cut in, setting his entire bread ration next to nam-gyu’s. he didn’t even look at you as he spoke, like it was just something that had to be done. "you need more energy."

"for real," gyeong-su agreed, pushing his milk and half his bread toward you. "you're carrying the only good thing in this whole place. we've gotta make sure you're okay."

you glanced at the small pile of food in front of you, feeling a mix of gratitude and exasperation. "if i eat all of this, i'm going to be too full to move," you teased, looking at each of them in turn.

"good," su-bong said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched you. "then you won't try to do everything yourself for once."

you laughed, shaking your head at his playfulness. but before you could take another bite, su-bong’s gaze softened, and he leaned closer to you, his lips brushing your temple in the gentlest of kisses. "how’s the little bean doing?" he asked quietly, his hand still resting on your belly.

you smiled, feeling a flutter of warmth in your chest. "good, i think. still quiet, though."

"let me know if they kick," he said, his voice full of anticipation. "i wanna feel it."

"maybe soon," you replied, placing your hand over his, letting the warmth between you spread.

the group chuckled, the sound light and warm—a small reprieve from the weight of the games. you picked up one of the bread pieces and took a bite, knowing they wouldn't take no for an answer.

but su-bong’s eyes never left you, his focus completely on you and the baby. every now and then, he’d glance down at your belly, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns. "you’re glowing," he said suddenly, his voice low, full of admiration. "i don’t know how you do it. carrying a little human and still looking like this..."

you rolled your eyes, but you could feel your heart fluttering in your chest, warmth spreading through you at the way he looked at you. "you’re too sweet," you teased, your fingers brushing the side of his hand.

his smirk turned softer, and he leaned down to kiss you, a slow, lingering press of his lips against yours. when he pulled back, his eyes were full of warmth and affection. "you better eat, though," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "we’ve got a lot to look forward to."

you smiled, your heart swelling at his words, feeling safe, loved, and cherished in that moment. "i will," you promised softly, feeling the warmth of the kiss still lingering on your lips. "for both of you."

"good," su-bong whispered, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before settling back beside you. his hand never left your belly, his touch gentle and reassuring. "i can’t wait to meet the little one."

you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as you allowed yourself to relax for the first time that day. in a world full of chaos, in a place that had taken so much from you, su-bong was your safe place, and you were grateful for every second with him.

and in the silence of the dormitory, with the soft hum of the lights above and the gentle rhythm of su-bong’s hand on your belly, you found a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

su-bong’s thumb continued to trace circles on your belly, the gesture so tender and constant that it grounded you in the present moment. as the others settled around you, each offering their own quiet support in their own ways, your heart swelled. it wasn’t just the baby that had changed everything—it was the way your little family, however unconventional, had grown. the way su-bong was always there, always protective and loving, in his own unique way.

"you’re gonna be the best dad," you said, breaking the silence, your voice soft but sincere. you didn’t need to look at him to know his eyes were already on you, filled with that rare kind of tenderness he only showed when it was just the two of you.

"you think so?" su-bong’s voice was low, almost teasing, but there was a slight vulnerability behind it, one that only you could see. he shifted closer to you, his lips brushing against your cheek, leaving a soft, lingering kiss. "i’m gonna spoil them. just wait."

you giggled, imagining what he’d do with a baby in his arms. "i don’t think they’ll ever get any sleep with you around," you teased, looking up at him through your lashes.

he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "maybe not, but they’ll definitely know they’re loved."

you were about to reply when, just as if on cue, a tiny flutter shifted beneath your hand. a kick. you blinked in surprise, glancing down at your belly.

"did you feel that?" you asked, your voice full of wonder, a smile spreading across your face.

su-bong’s eyes widened as he immediately moved his hand to your stomach, his touch gentle but firm. "yeah, i felt it!" his voice was full of excitement, and you could see the joy lighting up his face. "oh my god, they kicked! did they know i was talking about them?"

you laughed, feeling a rush of affection for both him and the little one growing inside you. "i think they just wanted to remind you they’re in there," you teased, placing his hand firmly on your belly so he could feel the baby’s movements again.

"hey," he said, leaning in closer, his voice almost a whisper. "if they kick again, i swear, i’m gonna lose my mind. that’s my baby."

you smiled at his enthusiasm, your heart swelling with warmth. "they’re already a little troublemaker, just like you," you teased, running your fingers through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, still completely engrossed in the feeling of the baby moving.

the others seemed to have settled into a quiet rhythm, but nam-gyu, ever the playful one, couldn’t help himself. "man, you’re gonna be the type to cry when they’re born, huh?" he called from across the room, his voice teasing but with a hint of affection.

"shut up, nam-gyu," su-bong muttered, though there was no bite in his words. you could tell he was actually a little embarrassed by the idea, but the truth was—you could see it in his eyes. he would be that kind of dad.

"i’m not crying," su-bong added, his voice more serious now, though still full of that sweet affection. "but i am gonna be there for every moment. for you. for them."

the way he said it made your heart flutter, and you leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips. when you pulled away, you saw the softness in his eyes, the deep sincerity behind his usual tough exterior.

"i know," you whispered back, placing your hand gently over his, still resting on your belly. "and i’ll be here too. always."

he smiled, his thumb brushing over the swell of your belly one more time before leaning back against the wall, still holding you close. "we’re gonna be a good team, huh?"

you nodded, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. "yeah, we are."

the warmth of his embrace, the quiet hum of the room, and the subtle kick from your little one filled the space around you, creating a sense of calm that contrasted sharply with the chaos of everything outside. in this small, dimly lit room, you were surrounded by love—by su-bong, by the little one, and by the strange, beautiful family that had formed amidst all the chaos.

you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of su-bong’s steady breathing and the soft pressure of his hand on your belly reassure you. no matter what came next, no matter what the future held, you had this—this bond, this love, this little family. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could face anything.

"you ready for this?" su-bong asked quietly, his voice a gentle murmur against your ear.

"always," you whispered back.

and with that, the two of you, and the tiny life between you, settled into the stillness of the night, hearts beating in unison as the world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the quiet, perfect moment you had carved out together.

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aprilthearcher · 2 days ago

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replaying your laughter

harry potter x slytherin!fem!reader ― Harry has a crush on a Slytherin, which could collapse the entire school, but he doesn't seem to care much.

slightly inspired by 'message in a bottle' by taylor swift. there could be a second part if anyone's interested in it. don't forget to like, or reblog, or leave a comment! those are always appreaciated.

word count: 1.4k

#masterlist!

Harry was sure that half – maybe even more than half – of Gryffindors House would never forgive him for having a crush on a Slytherin. Yet, Harry couldn’t really bring himself to care. The lot of them had called him a liar just last year, and none of them, friends or not, had the right to tell him who was appropriate enough or not to go on a date with.

It was hard not to miss her when she was one of the few Slytherins in Harry’s year who had never insulted him nor any of his friends. As a half-blood, she didn’t care about ‘blood traitors’ or muggleborns nor was she a member of Malfoy’s gang. Also, the fact that she was best friends with Luna Lovegood made her trustworthy in Harry’s eyes.

Although they had shared many classes during their years at Hogwarts, Harry didn’t know when he’d started to feel this way towards her. Had it been during their third year, after he’d seen her yell curses at Marcus Flint because he didn’t want girls in the Slytherin Quidditch Team? Had it been during their fourth year, after he saw her in an elegant, deep blue gown at the Yule Ball dancing with a Ravenclaw a year older than them? Had it been during their fifth year, after he’d seen her comfort two first years from Slytherin and Hufflepuff that had spent their afternoon in Umbridge’s office? Had these feelings been there since he’d met her on the train in their first year after she couldn’t find her older sister?

Has he always been so clueless?

Now, despite the fact that this recently discovered crush made Harry’s heart almost burst out of his chest any time he’d see her – whether in real life or in his dreams –, it didn’t mean that he would easily hand the victory to Slytherin in the match they were about to play.

Standing face to face with Urquhart, Slytherin’s new Quidditch Captain, Harry tried to avoid her eyes and how imposing she looked dressed in the deepest hue of emerald green. Still, when Madame Hooch blew the whistle, Harry couldn’t help but raise his head in her direction. Her eyes quickly settled on his, and Harry almost punched himself for being the first one to look away.

Up in the sky, a hand on his broom keeping him steady, he thought he’d have a moment of peace from her. But, in his defence, flying round the pitch looking for the snitch and making sure that his team was playing well eventually led him to find the force of nature that was her on top of a broom. Watching the speed at which she flew, Harry was somewhat relieved that she had never intended to become a Seeker. Yet, as magnificent as she was with a Quaffle in her hands, Ron’s confidence that there was Liquid Luck running through his system managed to block all of the shots she’d thrown at him. Anyone could tell from the look on her face and her stance on her broom that she wanted to rip off Ron’s head, probably use it to mark a few points as well. Her kindness, Harry realised then, did not make her less of a competitive hothead.

The match finished with the snitch in Harry’s hands, granting yet another win to Gryffindor. A smile on his face, he let his eyes trail over his team, each with a grin on their faces as big as his. He saw Ron lifting both of his arms, celebrating with the scarlet and gold crowd, and Ginny dive-bombing into the podium from where Zacharias Smith had been calling the match.

Harry looked for her once more, finding her already on the ground with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. He’d started descending when he saw what seemed to be a fight between her and Urquhart. The Slytherin Quidditch Team had a finger pointed to her chest, which she quickly dismissed with a jab of her hand and a hissed that Harry got to hear as a ‘Don’t fucking touch me’. This infuriated Urquhart more, making him get closer to her face, but with only a stamp of her foot, she sent him flying backwards.

Madame Hooch’s whistle blew loudly across the pitch, and the crowd finally caught on what was happening. Harry saw them go from celebrating, or sulking in the case of the silver and green sea of people, to whispering excitedly about the tussle. Urquhart was now marching in her direction, though Harry noticed some hesitation on his pace when the determination settled on her face. He had known, not that Harry spent a lot of time observing her, that she was very capable at wandless magic. In Urquhart’s case, he was always ready to start a brawl, yet he never saw through; opting, instead, to play it cool when he realised that he wouldn’t come out triumphant.

Because of some kind of instinct, Harry drew closer to the Slytherin Quidditch Team, standing a few paces behind her. Zabini observed him, his eyes were narrowed and his arms were crossed; it was clear he wasn’t there to stop his teammates from fighting each other. Suddenly, Snape stood between Urquhart and (Y/N). His face was rougher than usual and with only a few words he sent the Slytherin Captain back to the castle. Then, Snape turned to them, raising his eyebrows at the sight of Harry.

“Potter, shouldn’t you be celebrating?” Said Snape. The mere mention of the word ‘celebrating’ added a layer of disgust to his face. “Or is it that you cannot bear that the attention is not on you?”

Before answering, he looked at her. She had glanced back at him at the mention of his name, clearly surprised that he was here. Their eyes met for a brief second, one in which Harry noted the colour of his eyes was similar to that of her robes.

“I was only making sure that none of the players of your house got hurt. Seeing as Malfoy wasn’t here to play today, to get yet another replacement would surely affect the team.”

“How… heroic. Always ready to save the day, Potter.” Harry smiled sarcastically at Snape’s comment. “Miss, I expect to see you at my office tomorrow morning. We will discuss your detention.”

“Detention? Urquhart was the one to start the fight. He was the one yelling at me and getting all over my face.” Harry was certain that weren’t for the fact that Snape was a professor and the Head of her House, he would have suffered the same fate as Urquhart, thrown back across the pitch. He stopped himself from laughing at the mental picture of that.

“It’s not up to discussion, but if you keep complaining you will do a month of detention rather than two weeks.” With her silence and the matter already settled, Snape started walking towards the castle, Zabini and the rest followed him.

Now that the two of them were alone, Harry didn’t know what to say. The bleachers were emptying, some members of his team had already left the pitch.

“Um, thanks for that, I guess,” she mumbled. It seemed she didn’t know what to say either.

“Uh, yeah, no problem.”

There was another moment of silence where both of them avoided each other’s gaze, looking at their shoes or the brown gloves on their hands.

“What did- What did Urquhart say to you?” Harry asked. He was curious, but he also wanted to keep talking to her.

“He basically blamed the loss on me, saying I wasn’t fast enough or my aim was off, which could be true, but it’s not as if the rest of the team got the same. He said it to me because I’m the only girl, so…”

“So he’s a prick and no better than Flint.”

She laughed at that, softly and probably reminiscing that time she cursed him for not wanting to put her on the team. Harry swore that if he could hear that laugh play in the back of his mind forever, he wouldn’t need anything else. It would be her laugh that’d spurred him on. He thought about running to Dumbledore’s office and using the pensieve to replay this moment over and over again.

“Yeah, at least Montague would yell at all of us.” She mentioned while beginning to play with the strap on her gloves. “Anyways, I think it’s time for me to get back, and you have a win to celebrate.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do. But, um, you played well today. You’re a great Chaser.”

She whispered a small ‘thanks’, biting her lower lip in an attempt to contain the grin that was about to erupt in her face.

thank you for reading!

#harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #reader insert #slytherin!reader #fem!reader #slytherin #gryffindor #hogwarts #ron weasley #blaise zabini #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #severus snape

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aemondapologistfrfr · 22 hours ago

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It's Always Been You

daemon x daughter!reader

anon request

Summary: You visit Runestone for your name day at your mother's behest. Tragic events follow but end better than you ever could’ve imagined.

Warnings: 18+ daddy kink duh, size/bulge kink, breeding kink, overstim, fingering, masturbation(f), oral(f), p in v, loss of virginity, swearing, fade to black murder? idk i didn’t really wanna go too in depth but we all know what happened to Rhea - the dismissal of the death is kinda 🥴 but rip let’s get some head ig

Authors Note: “i love daddy!daemon” we all say in unison 🧎🏼‍♀️🙂‍↕️ timeline is warped for the sake of this fic and that’s ok!!

Word Count: 5.1k

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You jump up from your bed with your sheets sticking against your skin. You wipe away the tears on your cheek and toss the sheets off. You forgo your slippers and robe before slipping out of your chambers. The halls are quiet and barren as you make another turn. When you stop in front of the wooden doors you've come to learn well over the past week, you hesitate for a second before pushing them open and clicking them shut behind you.

“Who is it?” you hear his groggy voice from the bed.

“Daddy?” Daemon groans, pulling his sheets over himself.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” he tosses his head back to the pillow until he hears you sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” you wipe the tears from your eyes. “I just.. I just had-“ you hiccup back a sob as you cover your red face.

You hear the sheets rustle around and soon he’s picking you up and holding you against his chest as your tears continue to flow. He pets your hair back and presses his lips to the side of your head. You tremble in his arms as you wrap your limbs around him tightly. When he realizes you won’t settle he brings you back to his bed and lays you both back. You continue to curl against his chest as his fingers trail down your spine.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweet girl.” he hums and you bury yourself deeper into his neck.

“I miss my chambers at the Red Keep. I don’t like staying in Runestone.” you feel his chest rumble with a small chuckle.

“I know, I know,” he hums. “Your mother has missed you all these years. She wanted to see what a beautiful woman you’ve become.” you whine trying to get closer to him.

“I want you to take me home, Daddy. I don’t even know her. I want to go home. I’m plagued with night terrors every night here.” your voice starts to shake. “Can I stay with you until we leave?” he sighs at your pleas.

“They won’t allow it. We’re not in King’s Landing.” he hears your sobs start anew.

“Please,” you whine. “Please just for tonight at least.” he squeezes your hips.

“Sweet girl.” he sighs.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Please.” you whisper. “Please, please,” he knows he has to get you out of his bed but you’re clinging to him so tightly.

“You can stay for a couple more minutes.” he caves and wraps his arms around you.

“Thank you.” you start to push his sheets down wanting to be closer, needing his comfort. “I liked when we spent my birthdays alone. When you would fly me to the finest cities atop Caraxes. Please take me from here.” you feel your face heat as your tears start again.

“Shh, shh,” he pets your hair and you snuggle into him. The breath is knocked from his chest when you shift your hips against his cock. “Come back up here.” he slides you up his chest away from his legs. His hands rest on your lower back softly rubbing against your night dress.

“Please,” you let out a desperate whimper, pressing your lips to his neck. “I just want to listen to your heart.” you scoot back down despite how he grips onto your waist.

“Fine, just stay still.” he pats your back and you nod against his chest.

Daemon tries to clear his mind but the way you're softly tracing your fingers against his chest is keeping him extremely aware of every move you make. He starts to run his fingers up your back and you wiggle against him letting a small giggle spill out. The sound warms his chest and even more so when you place your lips against him. He lowers his hands more than he should and he groans finding that your nightdress slid up when you slid down.

“Let me fix your nightdress.” you shake your head at his words.

“No. I want to be close to you.” you yank your nightdress up and Daemons head spins.

“This is improper.” he groans, placing his hands on your waist.

“But it feels so good.” you hum, pressing yourself closer to him. “Can you take it the rest of the way off, Daddy?” you lift your head up and look at him. Daemon is torn on what to do. He should take you back to your chambers. He should- “Daddy,” you whimper.

“Okay.” he nods, pulling the silk over your head. He places his hands on your back once more as you start to squirm against him.

“You’re so warm. I can feel all of your muscles like this.” you press your lips across his chest. “I like this very much.” you slide down a bit more and squeak.

“Stop moving.” Daemon digs his fingers into your hips. You wiggle your hips and a small whine makes its way to his ears. “We should get you back to your chambers.” he tosses his head back as you scoot lower.

“No, I wanna stay here. Please,” you gasp as you start to rock against his cock. “Please Daddy, yes,” your soft pleas have his cock twitching between your pooling wetness. He flips you over quickly and lets his eyes travel over your exposed body.

“Do you even know what you’re begging for?” he slides his cock up your slit, watching your face twist with pleasure.

“You.” you whisper. “I’m begging for you. Please,” you arch up and he stares at you. “I want you to take my maidenhead for my name day. Please,” you bring your hands to his back to try and pull him down.

“My cock shouldn’t be anywhere near your cunny.” he presses his forehead to yours as his tip brushes against your bud.

“Please,” he’s torn listening to you and watching you try to hump yourself against him. “Just once.” you whisper. “What must I do?” he presses his lips to yours, giving into his deepest desire. “Thank you.” you gasp when he starts to kiss your neck.

Daemon lifts up to sit back to take you in. Your chest is heaving and your nipples are peaked. You have a soft pout on your lips as you reach up for him. He lifts you with ease, enjoying how he can move you about as he pleases. He holds you up higher so he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples which earn in a sweet whimper.

“Daddy,” you hold onto his shoulders.

He takes your nipple between his teeth and your nails dig into his shoulders. He flicks his tongue across the bud until you're quietly moaning above him. He teases his tongue across to your other nipple and offers it the same attention enjoying your sounds and cries. He moves to lay you back on the bed but you cling onto him.

“I need you to lay back so I can start preparing your little cunny.” he hums, lifting you off of him once more. “That’s my good girl.” he watches you lay back on his mattress. He spreads your legs and pulls you half into his lap. “So very pretty.” he rubs his thumb up the side of your slit. He lifts your hips and dips down to slide his tongue up your center.

“Daddy,” you whimper, grabbing onto his arm. “Oh, I- Please,” his tongue flicks against your bud as he looks down at you.

He pushes his tongue into your core and he chuckles, watching your legs tremble. You softly buck against his mouth and he flattens his tongue to cover the entirety of your cunny before bringing the tip of his tongue to lash against your bud. You let out a high pitched cry before you fall apart, digging your nails into his arms. He lays you back on the bed once more and you gape at his hard cock bobbing against his stomach.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl.” he smirks, stroking himself. “I’m still getting you ready.” he releases his length and lays between your thighs.

He spreads you, looking over your glistening cunny before he brings a finger to circle your entrance. He slowly presses his finger into you and groans at you squeezing him. When he starts to pump his finger you let out soft cries that quickly become moans. As he presses a second finger in he starts to circle your bud with his tongue.

“Tell daddy how it feels.” he watches as your pleasure coats his fingers with every slow pump.

“Good, I feel- Mm,” you roll your hips when he curls his fingers. “Yes,” you gasp as he starts to pump them in faster, smiling at the sound of your wetness. “Daddy, I-

“Gods,” he feels you start to pulse around his fingers. He continues to pump his fingers until you come down from your high softly whimpering. “Are you ready to try my cock now?” he looks up at your lidded eyes as you nod.

He gets back up on his knees and looks down as you as you still softly tremble from pleasure. Your glistening cunny is fluttering around nothing and is calling all of his attention. You watch as he starts to stroke himself and you spread your legs wider as you chew your lip.

“Do you think you’ll fit?” your soft words have him pulling you closer by your legs.

“It’ll fit sweet girl.” he chuckles, resting his cock on you watching it reach up to your belly button.

“It’s gonna go all the way in my tummy?” you look down with wide eyes.

“It might feel like it. Daddy will make sure it feels really good.” he kneels back and starts to slide his tip through your slit. He presses his tip into your entrance and watches you bite your lip. Your cunny sucks in his tip and he groans at the tightness. “You doing okay?” one of his hands grabs your waist while the other holds his cock trying to keep his movements minimal.

“So much bigger than your fingers.” you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’m going to move just a little bit.” he grits through his teeth, rubbing circles into your skin.

“Oka- Ah, Daddy,” tears prick at your eyes when he pushes in another inch.

“You’re doing so good for me. So good.” he groans when he looks down and sees the imprint of him inside you. “Your little cunny is hugging me so tightly.” he moves his hand from his cock to rub small circles into your bud as he continues to push in.

“Yes, please,” you whimper as he continues to push in. “More,” the breathless plea has Daemon pushing in even more.

“You like being split open on daddy’s cock?” he chuckles. “Give me your hand.” you barely lift one up and he grabs it and places it on your lower tummy. “You feel that? That’s daddy inside your sweet cunny.” you gasp feeling him and look up at him with parted lips.

He slowly pulls out and watches your face scrunch when he pushes back in. You keep your hand resting on your lower tummy feeling him fill you back up. Your little gasps and whimpers test his control to keep it slow until you’re truly ready to be claimed. His pace soon becomes steady along with your moans and he can’t help but watch your hand rub against his bulge every time he pushes into you.

He snaps his hips and you slide up the bed with a high pitched cry. He brings his hands to your hips and starts to hammer into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, arching off the bed at the new angle. “I want you to touch me here again.” one of your hands pats his and you point at your bud. “Please,” he watches with a grin as you start rubbing yourself with your fingers.

“But you’re doing such a good job. Play with your little cunny while Daddy fucks you.” your legs shake around his waist as you move your fingers faster. “Such a good girl for me.” he hums, rolling his hips.

“Daddy, I-

“Shh, shh,” he feels you pulse around him and he can no longer push off his pleasure as your cunny begs to be filled. “I’m gonna fill you up. Your little cunny is begging for my seed.” he grunts, slowing his thrusts as his pleasure starts to pour into you.

“Thank you,” you whimper as his stills inside of you. “Will you let me stay with you? For tonight at least?” you plead trying to pull him down to you.

“Just for tonight.” he relents and slowly pulls out of you watching you cross your legs in front of your crying cunny.

“Thank you,” he lays next to you and you curl into him. “Thank you,” you press your lips to his neck as he holds you closer.

ᓚᘏᗢ

Daemon groans at the rushed knocks on his chambers and goes to pull his blanket off and then comes to the realization that you’re still spread atop him. He gently pulls you off covering you with the sheets when there’s another knock. He curses and gets up trying to find something to cover up with as the door starts to open. He gives up and tries to stop the person from entering and tosses his head back with a loud groan as Rhea walks in.

“Gods you couldn’t have used the sheet at least.” she looks past him to the bed and her eyes widen. “No,” she shakes her head and then looks at Daemon with disgust.

“You wouldn’t understand.” he waves her off.

“She’s your daughter.. You’ve ruined her Daemon.. How do you.. Oh Gods, I’m going to be sick.” she turns and flees his room and he groans not wanting to deal with this.

He walks to his bathing chambers and sighs running the damp cloth across his face. He runs his fingers through his hair before he walks back to the bed. He pulls the sheets down your body and watches as your skin prickles from the breeze. When he trails his fingers over your skin you squirm and let out a soft whine. You slowly blink your eyes open and smile reaching up for him.

“Daddy,” you pout.

“Let’s get your slip on and I’ll give you a robe so we can walk you back to your chambers.” he nods, pulling on a pair of trousers. “I have some things to deal with.”

“Can we go home today? Or at least somewhere else?” you push your bottom lip out. Gods why did Rhea have to barge in here. He had planned on taking you one more time this morning but now..

“Yes, sweet girl. We’re leaving here in an hour or two.” he nods. “The servants will help you bathe and dress.” he pulls a tunic on and grabs a robe from his wardrobe. “Come here.” you stand before him tilting your head up.

He pulls the robe around you and brings you to the door. He pokes his head out and thanks the Gods the hall is empty. He tugs you down the hall quickly and soon you’re standing in front of your chambers. He opens the door for you and scoots you in before kissing your head.

“I’ll come back for you soon. Get ready and we’ll leave.” he nods and shuts the door behind you.

Daemon takes the main steps two at a time trying to find where Rhea ran off to. He pulls a guard over and asks and the guard points to the stables. He doesn’t even know what to say, he knows she’ll never understand, he doesn’t even fucking understand.

Gods your little whines and the softness of your skin. He wishes he could tell himself that was the first time he thought that but.. it’s not. He would’ve been content to keep it a secret and never let it happen again but he would be lying to himself. For the hours he slept he dreamed of the way your cunny felt hugging his cock. The way he could see every thrust as he fucked you into his mattress and the way your fingers rubbed so furiously at your bud looking for your release.

“May I help you, my Prince?” the stable hand brings him back to the present.

“I’m looking for Rhea.” he clears his throat.

“She jumped on her horse and headed for the hills.” the boy winces at Daemon's expression.

“Then ready me a horse.” he waves the boy off and he comes back a minute later with a horse in tow.

Daemon jumps on the horse and takes off towards the hills. He rides for about twenty minutes before he finds a lone horse tied to a wooden pole. He ties his horse to the pole and starts off on foot. Behind the hill is where he finds Rhea sitting on the grass looking off at the foothills.

“Have you come to beg for me to keep your secret?” she doesn’t even turn.

“I’ve come to beg for nothing. You’d be wise to stay quiet.” he chuckles looking down at her.

“And if I don’t stay quiet what then?” she finally looks back and her eyes widen when sees what he’s holding in his hand.

ᓚᘏᗢ

“How was your ride, my Prince?” the stable hand approaches him as he jumps off.

“Relaxing. I found Lady Rhea's horse tied to a pole but saw no sign of her. She must be adamant on keeping her own space. Do tell her I was looking for her when she returns.” he tosses the boy a gold coin and struts back to the castle.

Daemon knows he should feel sick with guilt but all he can think about is getting back to you and seeing your smile again. He makes his way to his chambers and hastily packs his bag before leaving and coming to collect you. He knocks on your door and you open it and then immediately fold into his embrace.

“Can we go home?” you pull back and look up at him.

“Are you ready?” you nod quickly. “Then let me grab your bags.” he walks past you and grabs your bags from your couch. “Let’s go.” he offers you his free hand and you gladly accept.

He leads you down the halls and stairs making sure to stop and share pleasantries with the people you both pass. They welcome you both back whenever you please and Daemon nods along before pulling you out the front doors. He leads you past the outskirts of the gates to the city and Caraxes comes into view.

Daemon watches as you smile and walk ahead of him to his dragon. He climbs up to secure your bags before coming back down to your side. You thank him for helping you up and you lean back into him thankful to be on your way home.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

It has been just over a fortnight since you returned to King's Landing and you’ve been so happy except for one thing. Daemon has been keeping a distance between you both and you don’t understand why. You know you only told him just that once but.. but it felt like it would happen again. You wanted it to happen again so very badly. You’re pulled from your thoughts when there's two knocks on your door before they slowly open.

“Daddy?” you almost sob at the sight of him. “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please stay. Please.” you cling to him as you feel tears slip down your cheeks.

“What are you talking about, sweet girl?” he wraps his arms around you.

He very well knows what you mean but he didn’t mean for it to be so noticeable. He doesn’t trust himself around you. He’s been thinking deeply about everything. He’s a Targaryen, he can have you if he pleases, but he knows how everyone else will react. He doesn’t care but he cares all the same. These are the thoughts that had him keeping his distance. But this morning a raven came confirming the events he already knew in Runestone.

“You barely come see me anymore.” you pull back and look up at him.

“I’m sorry.” he cups your cheeks. “Come sit with me. I have something to tell you.” you nod and follow him to the couch.

“What’s happened?” you frown looking at his solemn expression.

“It’s your mother.” you scrunch your brows at her words.

“What of her?” you shake your head.

“She was found dead.” he watches you turn to him with alarm. “They say they-

“I don’t want to hear.” you shake your head quickly.

“Are you okay?” he studies you.

“I am sad but.. I didn’t know her. She wasn’t really my mother. She was but,” you shake your head. “I barely knew her. I don’t..” you look up at him with glossy eyes. “It’s sad because death is a sad thing but I can’t mourn a mother I never had.” the words taste wrong on your tongue but they are the truth. “Are you okay? She was your wife?” the question feels wrong and calling her his wife feels even..

“I feel quite the same as you. It’s always been you and me.” your eyes snap to his.

“I like that it’s just us. I want it to be just us forever.” you scoot closer. “But will they make you remarry?” your eyes lock to his.

“There is only one that I would agree with.” your heart starts to beat rapidly.

“Who?” your eyes cast down to your hands.

“You.” he watches your eyes snap up.

“Really?” your voice cracks.

“Really.” he nods and chuckles as you crawl into his lap.

“I was so sure you hated me. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You know that I love you so very much.” he rubs your back.

“Yeah but you haven’t come to see me. I’ve tried to come to you at night but you’ve kept a guard outside your chambers to tell me no. You don’t even take me to the gardens. I thought I did something wrong.” your lip wobbles and you sniffle.

“Shh,” he continues to rub your back and you cling onto him. “You did nothing wrong. I had to sort some things out. I’m here now. I’m not leaving, I promise.” he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“And you’ll wed me?” you pull back and search his eyes.

“That is what I’m to ask the King. I will come back to you tonight with his answer.” you start to frown. “I will still wed you regardless of his answer.” he brings your lips to his.

“I don’t want you to leave.” you whine as he lifts you off of him.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” he kisses you once more before leaving you wanting on your couch.

ᓚᘏᗢ

Daemon walks down the dark halls with a smile etched across his face. The meeting with the King was less than desirable and he didn’t get his blessing but he didn’t get an outright refusal either. He dismisses your guard and walks into your chambers. You’re spread on your bed with your hand between your thighs and he clicks the doors shut and walks over to you.

“I need you, Daddy.” you whine, moving your fingers faster.

“What do you need?” he smirks, pushing your legs open wider.

“Your cock, please.” you grab for his arm. “Please, touch me, please,” you whimper.

Daemon presses his lips to yours and replaces your fingers with his. He dips two fingers into you and he’s welcomed by your wetness and warmth. You gasp when he starts to slam his fingers into and can’t stop the continued sounds coming from you. His thumb brushes against your bud and you come undone with your pleasure seeping out of you. He pulls back to watch your legs shake as he continues at his pace.

“Your little cunny feels so good hugging my fingers. I think I’d like to give it a kiss, I’ve missed it so much.” he starts to kiss down your neck and stops to suck and bite across your breasts. He moves his fingers faster hearing your moans get louder. “Does that feel good?” he bites around nipples.

“Yes, just like- I,” you claw onto his wrist as his fingers continue to slam into you. “I can’t- I, ple-“ your body goes taut as a small scream comes from you.

“You did so good.” Daemon slows his fingers watching as your pleasure pours out of you along with sweet whimpers. “You and your cunny did so good for me.” he slowly pulls his fingers out and you peel your eyes open and see him settling between your thighs.

“Please,” your chest heaves as he slides his tongue up your slit. He presses your legs into the mattress and starts to flick his tongue against your bud. “Daddy,” he groans into you as you fist his hair. He softly licks at you and you roll your hips onto his face causing your toes to curl. “Mm, yes,” your chest heaves as you fall apart again.

“You’re so sensitive.” he hums brushing his thumb up your slit watching you jerk. “You’re sure you want my cock, sweet girl?” he smiles watching you nod your head.

“Please,” you grab onto his arm.

He gets off the bed and removes his clothes watching you still tremble with pleasure. He walks to the side of the bed and you turn to him as he sits against your headboard. You crawl into his lap and he lifts you up while lining up with your center. He slowly pushes you down, groaning at the tightness.

“Oh Gods, Daddy,” you whine burying your head in his shoulder. “Your cock is so big.” he smirks, jerking his hips in and you whimper as he slides in more. “I can,” you cut yourself off with a moan as he pushes the rest of the way in. “I can feel you in my tummy.” you pant and bring a hand to hold onto your lower tummy.

“Your little cunny loves to swallow my cock whole. You feel every move I make.” he smiles, grabbing your hips to lift you up. “Sit back, I want to see your face while I fuck you.” you push off his chest with shaking arms. He pulls you all the way back down and watches your eyes screw shut as he starts to voice you.

“Yes, yes, I- please,” you go limp in his arms and he tightens his grip as he fucks you faster. “Daddy,” you grip onto his hands that are firmly dug into your waist as he moves you up and down for his pleasure.

“You should see yourself,” he grunts. “Just letting me use this little cunny for my pleasure.” you whine at his words. Between his words and thrusts you fall apart around him again. “Gods,” he groans, feeling you come undone and watching your eyes roll back. He lifts you off and chuckles at your whimper.

“Please,” you reach out for him.

Daemon rises from the bed and scoops you up bringing you over to your vanity.You look up at him confused as he sets you down on wobbly legs. He turns you towards the mirror before bending you over to rest your hands on the wood. “I want you to watch how Daddy uses this cunny for himself.” he grabs your hips and lifts them before lining himself back up and fully sheathing himself in you.

“Yes,” you look up in the mirror at Daemon watching himself move inside you. With every snap of his hips you're pushed forward onto the vanity. His pace is harsh and unrelenting that has whines and gasps falling from your lips. “Please, please,” your cheek presses against the mirror and you start to lose your height as you tire of standing on your tiptoes to accommodate him.

“Up you go.” he pulls out to make you kneel against the wood before he’s slamming back into you. “That’s my good girl, my sweet girl” he watches your face in the mirror and feels his pleasure approaching quickly. He wraps an arm around your front and watches your face scrunch when he rolls your nipple. “Open your eyes.” he watches you peel your eyes open and when you make eye contact he moves his other hand down to your bud.

“I-“ your mouth opens in a silent scream as pleasure slams through you. It feels as if you’ve been pushed into an endless sea of pleasure as he continues to pump into you. “Please,” you grab onto his arm. Daemon watches you rest against the vanity and pushes into you one last time before filling you.

“Your little cunny is begging for all of Daddy’s seed.” he presses his lips to your shoulder. “I’ll keep filling you until we know you’re carrying my child. They won’t deny us a marriage then.” he slowly rocks into you as you whimper. He slowly pulls out and watches as his come slowly leaks out of your fluttering cunny. “Let’s go to bed, sweet girl.” he lifts you from the vanity and walks you over to the bed.

“Will you stay with me?” you wrap your arms around him.

“I’m never leaving you again.” he presses his lips to your forehead while laying you both down in the bed. You curl against him and he wraps both of his arms around you. “When you wake again I'm going to fill this cunny more.” he chuckles as you let out a small whimper.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

fuck i love daddy daemon so mf much

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters

#daddy!daemon im begging for ur love pls pls pls #when it comes to short haired daemon i WILL have him #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon smut #prince daemon targaryen #daemon x reader smut #hotd daemon #x reader #x reader smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic

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lucygraysboy · 19 hours ago

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“once we’re done here, i’ll wash it and it’ll be as good as new,” he promises, knowing how much sentimental value the dress has. fingertips absently stroking her hair, not even trying to brush it anymore, just trying to make her feel good and help her relax. “i haven’t, by the way. gone through your songbook, i mean.” in case she’s wondering. she gave him permission to do so last night, but it seemed too personal, too invasive. “thank you, lucy gray.” it’s been a while since someone complimented his heart. people often admire what’s on the outside — his blue eyes and dark curls, his nose or cheekbones. she’s one of a very few who seem to care more about what’s underneath. “it means the world to me. i won’t let you down, i swear it.” scooping up a handful of water, he carefully pours it over her back to ensure she stays warm. “so are you, little bird. you’re very smart, too. way smarter than me.” she wouldn’t be here with him if she wasn’t highly intelligent. she wouldn’t have escaped coriolanus. which is still such a strange thought… “oh, yeah?” thankful for the distraction, he lets out another laugh. “never noticed you were also bird-sized and i was horse-sized,” he counters, getting to see her sense of humor for the first time and letting it bewitch him. he adores this side of her, but it has him wondering if this is the girl that she used to be — full of sassy remarks and giggles and sweetness. maybe she’ll be that girl again one day.

“i see…” billy hums, nodding his head even if she can’t really see him. he quickly picks up on what she’s implying, putting two and two together. the stories that she told him last night… “you don’t think my brother was born with a good heart, is that what you’re sayin’?” as children, they were like daylight and dark. polar opposites. but can he call that little boy evil? sure, they’d had their differences, but he wasn’t bad to the bone. he didn’t chase stray cats around the neighborhood or rip the wings off flies. “i’m not sure if i agree. maybe the capitol and our grandmother did that to him.” or maybe he was born with evil already inside him and it just came to light later in life. who knows? “i’m not defendin’ him, just thinkin’ out loud,” he says quickly when lucy gray’s head snaps around, looking at him with something that he can’t quite name or understand. it has him wondering if he’s said something wrong. a small, uncertain smile remains plastered to his visage, his own heart picking up pace. “did i —” say something wrong? but before he can get the words out, she’s speaking up again and he’s falling silent. gesturing for her to carry on.

“you planted a snake to scare him away and slow him down?” dark brows lifting, impressed and wary in equal measure. what if she still thinks he’s coriolanus? will he wake up with a snake under his pillow one morning? and lucy gray nowhere to be found? the idea has his heart missing a beat, chest constricting. but if she wanted to run, she would have done that while he was out by the creek. “i didn’t know ‘bout that. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to bring back any bad memories with that story.” features softening, understanding her reaction better now. amusement fills his eyes, and he can’t help but think it’s such a badass move, setting a snake trap. “oh, i bet he thought it was venomous. what does he know ‘bout snakes? nothin’. i think that was a smart move. risky but smart. and it served its purpose, right?” it’s scary to think that his own twin brother was trying to hunt her down, shot at her, but then he thinks about their father, the kind of person he was… and it’s not so surprising anymore. “you think he would have hurt you anyway? if you came back to him instead of runnin’ away and plantin’ that snake?” is his brother truly as ruthless and heartless as their father? his heart aches for lucy gray, but for coriolanus, too. it must be awful, living that way, filled with hatred. “mhm, yeah. it’s just a silly story, but the moral is very accurate, i think. if you go through life with hatred festering in your heart, you’ll never be happy. but if you learn how to forgive and focus on healing from the bad experiences, you’ll be alright.” as if reading her thoughts, he adds, “he won’t ever find you, lucy gray. reva blue and i won’t allow it. we will always protect you. i will protect you.”

"it does look like feathers." maybe that's how her mama decided to design it, thinking so as the songstress sweetly smiles. "thank you, that means so much to me." that he likes the way she sings. lucy gray laughs at first before shaking her head to correct him, "because you and horses have good hearts and brave ones." she just had to be careful praising someone's heart before really knowing it first, just like the moment of phrasing you seem like a good man, coriolanus snow. she scolds herself constantly for being so naive. "they're smart and you're smart." knowing how to survive like this. "and you are a lot taller than me way down here, so that could be another thing..." her turn to tease.

perking up in interest, brows raising as she sits with his fingers in her hair. finding what he's saying really fascinating when it sounds familiar to something she'd say. "i used to think they were made, too. sometimes i have my doubts." if coriolanus was right, people like him really were born that way. "but maybe now there's proof, they're either born or made." with him being the twin to coriolanus. then he tells this next story and a strange flash of fear strikes through her. that was a coincidence, right?

shifting slightly to glance at his face, making sure he once again wasn't somehow coriolanus– not going to drown her in this water while she's not looking after telling her this story, mind backtracking all the way back to her first theory of his mind being twisted by dr. gaul. until she realizes there's no way he knows all that stuff about district thirteen, that this type of kindness can be faked and she's back to reality. she really has to stop doing that... when she realizes even her heart's picked up speed beneath her chest.

"well, snake's and me are very familiar with one another." forcing herself to chill out, a wry laugh quietly emitting from her. "and there's a lot of irony in that..." she points out, an odd smile gracing her face, "when i placed a snake out, i set it as a trap. to stall time for myself. it bit coriolanus and i knew it wasn't venomous, then that's what really set him off to go shooting at me." wasn't like he wasn't going to do that anyway, probably. but that's what's so crazy about the similarities with billy's story. "the one who went back to the village. that's the one who lived a happy life?" she answers, while feeling scared that's how coriolanus probably feels towards her... hating her guts, obsessing over hating her guts each day, ready and waiting for the second chance at killing her for revenge. "i agree... i could have definitely turned rotten by now, yet i've not. and the same for you..." as long as he's telling the truth about it all.

#billysgirllol

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tending-the-hearth · 1 day ago

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i think marcia absolutely was hoping two-bit would call her back, she probably waited by the phone every night because she was hoping that she wasn't just reading into things, that the spark she felt, the spark she never felt with randy, wasn't just in her mind.

and when two-bit doesn't call her, she feels absolutely hopeless and heartbroken, but there are other things going on, so she puts it in the back of her mind until things are resolved.

but marcia finally confronts ponyboy at school one day, later on, and asks him why two-bit hasn't called her, if it's because of everything randy did, and ponyboy's eyes go wide with shock and he explains that two-bit fully believed she gave him a fake phone number because he didn't think a girl like her would want to go out with a guy like him, so he threw away the paper, and marcia has to bite back the most frustrated scream because how is it that the funniest, cutest boy she's ever met is also the biggest idiot, and ponyboy just has to follow along as she storms through the halls of the school to find two-bit, who's sitting in the cafeteria, and marcia rips out a piece of notebook paper, writes her name, address, and number down, and shoves it into a shocked and speechless two-bit's chest. she tells him he'd better call her at 6 p.m. later that night and ask her on a date or else she's never speaking to him again, and ponyboy is just doubled over wheezing because he's never laughed so hard in his entire life

and two-bit is sitting there unable to speak because he thinks he's just fallen in love and he's not exactly sure what just happened but he knows he'd better make that phone call at 6 p.m.

#and ponyboy goes home and immediately tells darry and soda what happened #and soda becomes hysterical and falls off the couch crying laughing #while darry immediately calls ma mathews on the phone to tell her #and her excited shouts can be heard through the entire neighborhood #bc i just KNOW two-bit gushed to his mama about the pretty soc girl who laughed at all his jokes #and was sweet to pony and johnny #marcha and two-bit my beloveds <3 #the outsiders #two bit mathews #marcia the outsiders #ponyboy curtis

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redfoxwritesstuff · 2 days ago

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A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 31 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: public indecency, fingering, biting, drug use, oral sex, Laurence Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi Show your support by leaving a tip, buy Kit a coffee

Laurence led Emma up the walkway, her heels clicking against the stones with every step she took toward the front door. His head was light. The scotch he had downed was rolling in his stomach. Her dress glittered and clattered as she moved, strings of beads dancing around her body, drawing his eye greedily over her thin frame. He loved the way Emma looked in those dresses, her slim figure covered in textures. He couldn’t wait to hear the rattle of her dress as he pushed her up against something or another and took her.

He unlocked the door and ushered her inside. Excitement had his hands shaking as he looked forward to indulging in Emma for the night and not even having to rush away once he’d sated his desire. His lazy wife may have run off, leaving him to spend money he didn’t have on dining out for the weekend, but at least it allowed him to have this.

Kneeling to the ground, Laurence grabbed the pile of mail as Emma danced through the front room, heels clicking against the dark wood floors he longed to replace with something brighter. Flipping through the bills, surely containing warning notices, he found a letter from his sister-in-law.

“Coming, baby?” Emma called from the stairs, dress glittering in the electric light of the hall.

“Yeah,” He ripped open the letter, “Just a minute. The Laudanum is on the counter in the bathroom. Go treat yourself sugar.”

Laurence unfolded the letter, eyes scanning the finely written text announcing the early birth of his sister-in-law’s baby. A son was delivered to the family nearly a month early and by some grace of God, he had survived and was even thriving. How lucky for the family.

If your sister had her son already, where were you? And with who? Laurence bunched up the paper in his fist, rage boiling under his skin, feeding off the excitement that he had for what the evening held and morphed it into something darker. He wanted to rip it to shreds. He wanted to burn it. He wanted- fuck; he wished there was someone he could hit around.

Where were you? Who were you with? Why had you lied to him?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Emma walked back to him, relaxed as the tincture put her mind in the clouds, a soft smile on her bright red lips.

“That cunt lied to me.” His voice came out in a harsh hiss between clenched teeth.

Emma slipped herself between his arms, running her hands up and down his broad chest. He was a wide man, stacked full of muscle, just the way she liked her men. He was strong and powerful and, most importantly to her, she had him wrapped around her finger.

“You think she’s got another man?” she asked, kissing his neck.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“If she does, you can use that to get rid of her, baby.” Emma worked his tie free from his neck, dropping it to the floor. “Charge her for adultery and divorce her frumpy ass. Then we can be together.”

“Emma, baby.” Laurence gasped as she ran her body along his, slithering like a snake as she pulled him by the shirt she was unbuttoning. She was eager to feel him, to have herself wrapped around him.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs and break in that bed properly,” Emma whispered, hands running up his chest as she kissed his skin. When he didn’t move fast enough for her, she sank to her knees, running her hand up and down his hardening length before unbuttoning his pants.

“Emma,” Laurence gasped as she wrapped her lips around his shaft, swallowing him greedily. “Fuck, I love it when you do that.”

It didn’t take long for her to have him a whimpering mess, proclaiming his love for her and her alone as he spilled his seed down her throat. That was just fine with her. She’d wake his cock up again before the night was over.

If she fucked him hard enough, well enough, maybe he would have his dumb wife arrested. If she pleased him enough, maybe he would pick her. If she was just good enough, she could have him and they could take over her family’s business together. Conquer the world.

“I love you,” she said, pulling from his cock with a pop.

“I love you too, Emma baby.” Laurence said, scooping her up and pressing her against the wall. For the moment at least, he forgot the letter and sank into a sea of rage fueled lust.

He wasted no time shoving her dress over her head and leaving her naked, expect the band that was wrapped tightly around her breasts. “If you love me,” Emma panted as he carried her up the stairs, lips working against her breasts as the band that hand bound them lie around her waist, “Why don’t you get rid of her already?”

“I will, baby.” Laurence swire, “I will. I just need a little more time.”

“You’ll marry me then?” Emma asked as he fell onto the bed atop her, wasting no time sliding his stiffening cock home again with a sigh. She was slick, wet and ready for him.

“I’ll marry you,” he promised, “Whatever you want.”

~~~~~<3

You wore the best dress in your bag, not that you had many choices. The dress Alastor had purchased for you was nicer but with the sand covering it, that wan’t an option. Instead, you walked hand in hand while wearing a simple green housedress.

You had felt underdressed, insecure, but Alastor paraded you around as if you wore a fine gown. The way he looked at you set your heart beating faster. While it was just a simple light green housedress, Alastor made you feel as if you were walking down the amusement park wearing your best dress.

Alastor fed you pinches of cotton candy, not wanting you to dirty your hands. You were all but sure he simply wanted the excuse to feed you. It wasn’t often that you got to see his face flush, but when you called him on it, you were treated to the sight.

“Do you want to ride the Ferris wheel?” Alastor asked as he threw away the stick that had held the candyfloss, licking his fingers clean of the residue.

You couldn’t help but stare at him for a few moments as his tongue wrapped around his fingertips. Swallowing hard, you watched them disappear into his mouth as he cleaned them. It was just sugar; you told yourself again and again as you tried to remember how to breathe as your mind replayed the image of him cleaning his fingers of your slick the night before.

“Well?” he asked, eyebrow raised as he watched your face heat.

“I’ve never-” Your words were rushed as you tried to pretend he hadn’t just caught you with your mind going somewhere lewd.

“All the more reason we should,” Alastor wasted no time tugging you along, taking your place at the back of the line.

“It’s so tall,” you whispered, “Alastor, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”

“Are you afraid of heights, my dear?” Alastor wrapped his arms around you. It wasn’t proper or decent, but you struggled to make yourself pull away. Who was going to see? Who would say anything? You were strangers here. Nobodies.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Alastor promised, as if he could somehow keep the ride from breaking down or falling apart.

It took no time at all for you to be whisked into the round car fastened to the frame. It rocked slightly as you stepped inside, looking to Alastor with wild eyes as he scooped you into his arms, pulling you to the bench to sit down together. You clung to him each time the wheel moved, jerking back to load up the next car.

“Look at me,” Alastor whispered. As you did, he leaned down and kissed you softly, swallowing your gasp as the car moved again. “If it’ll help, I’ll distract you while they load.”

“Alastor?!” You gasped when his hand slipped under the hem of your skirt as he pulled you to sit in his lap. He kissed your neck softly, pulling you to lean back, resting your back on his chest as he worked his knees between your legs. Urging them to spread, he worked the skirt of your dress higher up your legs. “What are you doing?!”

“No one can see us,” Alastor reassured as he runs his fingers over your folds through your panties. “The most they’ll think is we’re necking and we wouldn’t be the only ones. Let me distract you until the ride begins?”

You turned to protest but ended up kissing him as his hand slipped under your panties. How it happened, you couldn’t say. One moment you had outrage on your lips and the next, it was his kiss.

He caressed the bundle of nerves at the head of your slit as his hand on your hip ran around your front and up, sliding along your dress. Higher and higher his hand traveled, leaving a trail of fire up between your breasts. Fingertips trailed along your neck and then he was cradling your jaw as you failed to notice the car rock again, shifting as the wheel turned for the next car to be filled.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist as you struggled to maintain any air of propriety. Your knees fell apart more as he coaxed fire into your belly. The tip of his finger ran lower, circling your opening to collect the slick you hadn’t realized you were spilling into your undergarments.

“Should I stop?” Alastor asked as he pulled the slick up, coating your clit as he again worked you closer to the edge he had personally introduced you to.

“Please,” you whined, head falling to rest in the crook of his neck.

“Please stop?” Alastor teased, “Or please give you more?”

“I don’t know,” you whimpered as his hand pulled away.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to take advantage of a lady,” Alastor said as his hand rested on your mound, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Alastor,” you bit your lip. It was too much, too far. You were in public, but now that he had started the fire, you struggled to think of anything else.

At least until the wheel moved again, jerking the car as you neared the top as another car filled. You cringed against him, hiding your head in his shoulder.

“That really scares you, hm?” Alastor caressed your cheek with his thumb, “You didn’t notice the last few cars filling. Do you want me to go back to distracting you?”

“Okay,” you clung to him, “It scares me.” What scared you? So much more than you could explain. That Alastor made you feel such ways, that he made you want to take such risks, that you couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his hands on your skin.

“I’ll take care of you,” Alastor promised, fingers sliding through your slick slit.

He worked over your clit before the tip of his long finger dipped just inside your opening, feeling you as you fell open more for him. It was greed. He knew there wasn’t long to indulge, but he wanted to hear the sounds you made again.

Fingers stroked inside you, dipping deeper, first one, then another as he worked his palm over your clit. Your walls fluttered around him as he turned your face to rest tighter against his neck and shoulder to muffle the sweet gasps coming from your lips.

If he couldn’t hear you in all your glory, he would feel the gasps against his neck. The vibrations of your voice, the way your lips moved, would have to make up for it.

“You’re doing just fine,” Alastor murmured as you tensed when the car rocked again, the wheel moving to load the next car. “We’re almost there. Just a few more cars.”

You clung to his arm, gasping into his neck as he worked two fingers in and out of your opening, each time running his palm over your clit and bringing you closer.

The car moved again and all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut as the fire inside you felt like it’d burn you alive. You were dancing on that edge, the one that only Alastor took you to.

“Alastor,” you whimpered, crying out louder as he added a third finger. The stretch had you shamelessly spreading your legs wider, giving his hand room to work as he flexed and spread his fingers inside you. Never had you thought having anything inside you could feel so good, but with him, when it was him, it did. He made you want him inside you, more of him, other parts of him.

“You’re so close, my darling.” Alastor whispered in your ear as your moans turned louder. “I can feel you twitching around my fingers.”

“Alastor,” you tasted his neck as you licked your lips, trying to find a way to think as the car moved again.

“While I love the little sounds you make, the sound of my name on your lips, we’re getting close to the ground now, my darling. If you’re loud, someone will hear and we don’t want that, do we?”

“N-no.” Your hips rocked with his hand, chasing him each time his fingers slipped out of you. The sounds coming from your core were wet, lewd and it only made you moan more.

“If you’re going to be loud, bite down on me. You can do that for me, right, darling?”

“I don’t want. Oh, Alastor. Hurt you.” Talking as he worked his hand in and out of you was difficult. Thinking as his fingers plunged deep and curled up was harder still.

“You won’t, I promise. Now come on darling, let’s start the ride off. They’re loading the last car. Come on, let me feel you.”

You struggled to understand what happened to your body when it reached this point, but you knew it was the best feeling in the world. Gasping, you felt everything tense and contract, only to relax, repeating the process as you convulsed in his lap.

His hand didn’t slow down as he pressed your face into his neck. How it happened, you didn’t know. One moment you were gasping for breath and the next you could feel the tendon flexing against your mouth. Alastor’s head fell back as you bit down, reflexively trying to stifle the moan that bubbled from your chest as his hand continued to work through you.

Alastor groaned, something almost sounding like a swear falling from his lips as he worked you through your orgasm. As his hand stilled, you unlatched your teeth, though you still twitched in his lap, your opening fluttering around nothing as you shuddered against him.

The cars moved slowly but steadily, picking up pace as the ride began. The rocking was smoothe and gentle now.

Alastor’s eyes were closed for a moment as he took long, slow, deep breaths. Where your teeth had sunk into him, pink bloomed, but you hadn’t broken the skin.

“Are you alright?” you asked, shifting to run your hand over where the marks left by your teeth were quickly swelling ever so slightly. Alastor’s fingers twitched against your thigh, wet and smearing slick.

You felt it then, a twitch in his trousers. It wasn’t much more than a sign of life that had your eyes widening. You wanted to reach out to cox it to life, to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

“I’m fine, darling.” Alastor opened his eyes, deep wells of brown, looking into your soul. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I though- you just-” He pulled you into a deep kiss before settling your skirt back around your knees.

“If I couldn’t handle your little love bite, I wouldn’t have had you do it.”

“It’s going to show,” you protested as he settled your back against his chest, encouraging you to enjoy the ride now that it was moving smoothly.

“Probably,” Alastor admitted. “May even bruise.”

“Alastor!” you smacked his hand as your car once again reached the top of the wheel. “What will you say?”

“That my girl got a little feisty with me.” He chuckled as he watched your eyes go wide, face flushing.

“It’s indecent, you’re unattached. People will say-” You stopped, “Your girl?”

“I’m a man. The world looks the other way when I step out.”

“What do you mean, ‘your girl’?” You demanded, leaning away from him as he tried to kiss you.

“That’s what you are, aren’t you?” Alastor whispered. “You may be married to him for now, but you’re my girl. Aren’t you? You’re the one I want. The one I need. And you want me.”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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velarisdusk · 18 hours ago

Text

......... :(

so................ whatever the equivalent of live tweeting is for writing thoughts in a reblog while i read.. thats what i did...... sigh :(

the “Y/N, it's… it's bad.” is telling me all i need to know, im gonna sob awesome

“He'd walked beside Death most of his life, had heard its call more times than he could count, and he knew he couldn't ignore that call any longer. The periodic dripping of his blood on the floor seemed to remind him of it, ticking away the few minutes he had left.” poetry. like reading this ripped a hole in my chest. thank u, i'll take another

“He wanted to call you back to him. He needed you by his side in these last few moments. He clung to that thought, to the feel of your hands on his face just seconds ago, fighting against the darkness blurring the edges of his vision.” okay so yeah im crying.

“Azriel didn't even strain to try and listen in on your conversation. He only wanted to ask you to hold him again, but his tongue was sandpaper in his mouth. He couldn't get the words out.” OKAY SO YEAH IM CRYING.

“He didn't know what you were apologizing for. He was the sorry one—for failing you, for causing you this pain when he had promised he would never hurt you.” NOOOOOO (edit: i needed to add after the fact that this was an excruciatingly agonized NOOOOOO. thats all)

the pleading after the healers left shattered me, i am not ashamed to say that i started reading it out loud and it only made me cry more

“‘I love you…’ he managed to rasp out. He wanted those to be his last words to you. The only words that had ever mattered.” YOURE KILLING ME

god all of them coming into the tent.. cassian holding her….. this is too much i am sobbing

essentially this was a work of art and i cannot remember the last time i literally cried at angst, let alone SOBBED the way i did reading this. youre amazing thank you for this fic, im gonna go cry into my pillow now

Until the Last Breath

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel is injured in battle. Badly. You try everything you can to save your mate, but sometimes, it might still not be enough.

Warnings: heavy angst, blood and injuries, death

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: I finally finished it! My gosh, this was... a journey. And a real challenge. But I'm very satisfied with how it turned out. Huge thanks to Rae @illyrianbitch for giving me a first opinion on this, you're an angel and I love you 🫶🏻

Azriel had shut down his side of the bond. He always did when he went into battle so that you wouldn't feel his fatigue and his anger. His pain.

You hadn't sensed it. He had shut it down so well that when you heard Rhysand's voice in your head, you lost a few years off your life.

Azriel was hurt. They're taking him back to camp. Rhys paused, and you braced yourself. Y/N, it's… it's bad.

You raced past tents and injured soldiers, pushing people out of the way, not caring about the mud clinging to your shoes and shins. You were already calling out for a healer, and when you noticed one stopping in her tracks to look at you, you grabbed her hand and pulled her into a run.

But when you reached your tent, despite your slight panting, your breath caught in your throat.

Three soldiers had helped carry Azriel back, and as they walked past you to leave, they cast you sorrowful glances. But your eyes were fixed on your mate.

Azriel lay on his stomach on the table, his labored breathing echoing through the small space. He was covered in dirt and blood that wasn’t his own. But his wings…

The healer quickly walked up to him to assess the damage. Azriel didn't even open his eyes.

You were frozen in place. You couldn't move. What had once been majestic, powerful wings that Azriel had taken great pride in were now shredded to ribbons. You had seen him hurt before—he had taken arrows, ash-made and poisoned—but this… this was worse. So much worse than any other injury he had ever sustained.

Bile rose in your throat, but you pushed it down. You refused to let tears prick your eyes. You glanced at the healer as her hands hovered over the remnants of your mate's wings, then you finally took a step forward.

“Azriel?” you called, his name little more than a whisper. “Az?”

His eyes fluttered open and immediately settled on you. But they were glazed over with pain.

He tried to move, to lift a hand and reach out to you, opening his mouth to say something. A rasping breath was all that came out.

You were by his side in an instant. Ignoring the constant dripping of his blood on the ground, you crouched down in front of him and cupped his dirty face.

“Don't talk,” you murmured. “It's alright. We're going to save you. You understand? You won't get away from me that easily.”

The lie rolled off your tongue effortlessly, but Azriel knew better. Every breath was a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of the agony that coursed through his veins. He couldn't feel his wings anymore. His whole back, actually. There was only pain—a blinding pain that threatened to overwhelm him and pull him under.

Your eyes found the healer's, and Azriel didn't need to see her to know she was shaking her head. He'd walked beside Death most of his life, had heard its call more times than he could count, and he knew he couldn't ignore that call any longer. The periodic dripping of his blood on the floor seemed to remind him of it, ticking away the few minutes he had left.

But a new determination settled onto your features. He was your mate. He was yours—yours to love, yours to have, and yours to save. And you would save him. There was no other option.

Standing back up, you grabbed the healer and dragged her to the other side of the tent. You avoided her gaze and that look of sorrow and resignation that only made you want to punch something.

“There must be something you can do,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. She wasn’t at fault for this, you knew, but she was a healer. It was her damn job to save lives. She had to save the most important one. “Anything.”

“He’s lost too much blood,” she replied calmly. “I can't save his wings.”

How could she remain so composed and professional when your whole world was shattering?

You glanced back at Azriel. Even though he couldn't hear what you and the healer were saying, he could tell you were trying to find a way to do the impossible.

He wanted to call you back to him. He needed you by his side in these last few moments. He clung to that thought, to the feel of your hands on his face just seconds ago, fighting against the darkness blurring the edges of his vision.

“Can you save him, though?” you asked, turning back toward the healer. Seeing Azriel like this, struggling just to keep his eyes open, was breaking your heart.

The healer looked confused, and you clenched your jaw. “Can you save him?” you repeated slowly, punctuating each word as if she couldn't understand you. “You said you can't save his wings. But can you save him?”

She finally caught on, and her gaze shifted back to your mate. Azriel didn't even strain to try and listen in on your conversation. He only wanted to ask you to hold him again, but his tongue was sandpaper in his mouth. He couldn't get the words out.

“Maybe,” the healer finally said. “But he's weak. It might not make a difference. He might not survive it.”

Maybe. You could work with a maybe. It was better than nothing.

“Alright, then.” You were already turning to walk back to Azriel. “Let's get to work.”

But the healer placed a gentle hand on your arm, stopping you. You gave her a questioning look.

“I…” She hesitated, glancing at Azriel. “I’ll have to cut them. But the chances of him surviving are still very low.”

You didn't let your heart drop. You didn't let yourself consider what that might mean. If Azriel survived, he might very well hate you for the rest of his life for forcing him to live without his wings. It was a selfish choice, but if the alternative was letting your mate die when there was still some sliver of hope… It wasn't really a choice. You would gladly endure his hatred if it meant he was still alive.

“Do it.”

The healer gave you a sharp nod. “I'll go get what I need.”

Azriel watched her leave, fighting to keep his heavy lids from closing. It would be so easy to just let go, to let the darkness claim him. It was where he had always belonged, and his shadows had gone already. No tendrils swirled around him, curling near his ear to whisper secrets and truths.

But you were still standing too far away from him. Still staring at the tent entrance where the healer had disappeared.

He tried to say your name, but a ragged cough racked his body, sending a new wave of pain through what was left of his wings. Everything hurt. Blood bubbled up from his lungs, its coppery taste filling his mouth as it trickled down his chin.

At last, you turned and raced to his side, grabbing a wet cloth to wipe it away. “I'm sorry,” you whispered. He didn't know what you were apologizing for. He was the sorry one—for failing you, for causing you this pain when he had promised he would never hurt you.

“The healer is coming back,” you continued. Your voice cracked despite your efforts to sound calm and steady. “She'll fix you. You'll be alright.”

You had always been a terrible liar. Azriel knew it, and you knew it too. Neither of you believed your words, but you both clung to them because you had nothing else to hold on to.

“Let me in,” you murmured. Your hands were on his face again, your thumbs gently brushing his cheeks without a care for the dirt smudged on them. “Open the bond, my love.”

Azriel shook his head as best he could, trying to speak again. He wasn't going to let you feel his agony, even if it was watered down through the bond. You were suffering too much already, and though he wanted to let that invisible thread stretch between you, he wouldn't put you through that ordeal.

“Azriel,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. Your eyes locked onto his, and you let him see the raw need to feel him in their depths. “Azriel, please…”

He looked at you for a long moment, but in the end, he let the wall come down. He needed to feel you too—his mate, his love, and right now, his only anchor to this world.

Relief flooded you as he finally opened his side of the bond and the love you shared flowed freely between you, weaving through your very souls. But with it came his pain.

It hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. Azriel saw your eyes widen, heard the little gasp that escaped you, and was ready to shut you out once more. But as if sensing his intention, your trembling hands steadied on his cheeks.

“Don't,” you said firmly. “Let me share your burden.”

Sparing you from it was what he should have done. He shouldn't have let you feel it in the first place. Yet the selfish part of him wanted to keep the bond open, to feel your love and affection pouring into his straining heart—sweetness in the pain, warmth in the cold.

Even as you tried to hide it, panic rose inside you, twisting your gut and threatening to overwhelm you. Where was the healer? Your gaze darted to the entrance again and again, expecting her to walk in at any moment.

Azriel coughed once more, another trickle of blood spilling from his lips. You wiped it away quickly, but you knew more would come. You knew he needed help before it was too late.

“Hold on, my love,” you whispered as you leaned closer. “Just a little longer and then you'll be fine.”

“Li–” His voice was so feeble, interrupted by another fit of cough before he could even finish the word. “Liar…”

Before desperation could root itself in you, the healer finally came back. She placed an array of tools on a smaller table next to the one where Azriel lay, and you looked up at her, hope battling against dread.

Surely, she would get to work. Surely, she would cut off what was left of his wings and save him, and then he would hate you, but he would be alive and that was all that truly mattered.

An older healer walked in. Azriel caught only a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye, but the table with the tools was close enough for him to see what had been placed on top. He had seen enough clippings during his years at Windhaven to know what was about to happen.

Despair twisted his gut, adding to his pain and his fear. If losing his wings meant he had a chance of survival, would he take it? Would a life without his wings really be life?

Suddenly, he was back in his father's dungeon, a helpless child who couldn't fly even though his very blood longed for the skies. Then your face emerged from his memory. Your smile, your bright eyes, all the moments together, the life you had built over the centuries.

Could he do it? Could he give up his wings for his mate? Give up one love for another?

He didn't know what he would choose. But he never got to choose.

“You didn't tell me he was in such bad condition,” the older healer said, giving the younger one a sharp look. “There's nothing we can do here.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. You weren't sure you were still breathing as you stared at them, disbelief and anger building inside you.

“What do you mean there's nothing you can do?”

The older healer turned her gaze to you. Her stern features softened for only a second before she sighed. “He lost too much blood.”

Her hands glowed a faint yellow light as they hovered over the torn membranes of Azriel’s wings. She placed one on his back, and though her touch was warm and gentle, Azriel had to bite back a scream. The pain was blinding, sharp enough to steal what little breath he had left. And whatever she was trying to do… it wasn't working.

“His heart is beating too slowly already,” she stated, pulling her hand back. Azriel let his head fall against the table once more, his breaths shallow and ragged. “My apprentice shouldn't have given you false hope.”

Rising back to your feet, you turned to the younger healer. She'd said there were low chances, but chances nonetheless.

False hope.

The words echoed in your mind, cold and final like a death sentence. Azriel’s death sentence.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides. The apprentice backed away a step, well aware of the raging fury that you didn't bother to conceal as it kept building inside you. But before you could do anything, Azriel groaned, and your attention snapped back to him. He reached out with a shaking hand, the movement slow and agonizing, yet he wrapped his fingers around your wrist.

“It’s alright…” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

It wasn’t alright. But to him, this was just confirmation. He had known it would be his end the moment those soldiers had picked him up, broken and bleeding, from the battlefield. He was holding on, barely, just for you. To see your face, to hear your voice, to feel your love one last time. But he was so tired, and the darkness was pressing in, and now the healers had spoken aloud what he had already understood.

“No,” you snapped. “No, it’s not alright, Azriel.”

You regretted yanking your hand free the instant you saw the flicker of pain on his face. Guilt surged through you, and you dropped to your knees before him again, taking his scarred hand in yours. Gently, you brought it to your lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just…”

Your voice broke, the words dying on your tongue. You couldn’t stop the tears then, and they rolled down your cheeks in waves. A terror unlike anything you had ever felt clutched your stomach, and you clung to the mating bond as though you were the one who needed a lifeline.

Neither of you noticed the two healers leave, probably to give you some privacy. Your sobs drowned out the clashing of the battle just a mile away from camp, each of them hitting Azriel like a stab in the heart. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what you were going through. For him, it would be over soon. But for you, it would last much longer. He didn’t want to contemplate the possibility of living in a world where you had died, and yet you had to suffer through the same thing because he hadn’t been fast enough to avoid an attack from behind.

He wished it didn’t have to be this way. He wished he could go back in time and turn around one second earlier, or stay with you, in this world, forever. But no matter how much he tried to hold onto life and will his heart to keep beating, he was growing tired. The little strength he had left faltered and diminished with each passing second, and you were still crying and sobbing, still grasping his hand as though it could save him.

“My love…” he croaked before being interrupted by yet another cough. You blinked, lips wobbling as you tried to stop your crying long enough to hear his weak voice. But even without the usual light in his hazel eyes, you still understood what he was about to say.

“No,” you said before he could even start. “Don’t say goodbye, Az.”

You shook your head, and your hands moved to cup his face once more. He closed his eyes, as if feeling your touch was all he wanted.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded. You kept pulling on the bond between your souls as though it would keep him here, silently praying and begging the Mother not to take him from you. “You can’t leave me… please, my love, I still need you.”

Azriel felt your desperate tugs on the bond, but all he could do was send his love down the bridge to you. He couldn’t feel his body anymore. There were only your delicate hands on his cheeks, and though he was so damn tired, he opened his eyes to look at you one last time.

“I’ll always be with you,” he whispered hoarsely. He couldn’t even lift his arm to point to your chest, to the heart he had cherished and cradled for centuries, the heart he knew was now breaking, just like his own. “I’ll always be in your heart.”

“Please,” you repeated. It was the only thing you could do—hold on to the childish hope that pleading would mean something. “I can't lose you, I… I can't…”

Right then, a gentle hand pressed against the walls of your mental shield. You let it come down, expecting to hear Rhysand’s voice, but it was Feyre who spoke into your mind.

How is he?

You almost let out a hysterical laugh at the absurdity of the question, but when you answered, your voice sounded as broken as you felt. Forget the battle and get over here. All of you. He’s not… he’s…

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, even now. But Feyre understood, and you could hear the pained note in her voice as she said, We’re coming.

“You have to be strong,” Azriel murmured. It was just a whisper, barely audible, and it drained him to speak, but he needed to reassure you, to make sure you were as alright as you could be. He’d seen your eyes glaze over for a few seconds and knew you’d talked to either Rhys or Feyre. They’d probably be here soon, and they’d take care of you in a way he couldn’t anymore.

A sob shook your whole body. “No,” you replied. “No, just… no.”

You weren’t sure what you were trying to refuse—his plea to be strong, the inevitability of what was about to happen, the unfairness of it all? Did it even matter anymore?

Azriel grasped at the little life left inside of him. His body was already floating on a cloud, and the beautiful features of your face—the lines he knew like the back of his hand—were nothing more than a confused blur. He couldn’t hold on anymore, and he knew it.

“I love you…” he managed to rasp out. He wanted those to be his last words to you. The only words that had ever mattered.

You could see the way his eyes grew distant, the light slowly abandoning them. “I love you too.” Your voice broke as you said them, desperation clawing at your insides like a living beast, sharp nails digging deep into you until nothing else was left. “I love you, but please… please, stay with me.”

You tried to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t look at you. He didn’t have enough strength.

“Stay with me…”

His eyes fluttered close.

“Please, my love… stay with me.”

His heart stopped beating.

“Please…”

And you felt the mating bond shatter.

Six people rushed into the tent just as you cried out in pain, despair, and heart-wrenching loss. Your screams and wails carried through the whole camp, maybe even the battlefield and the world at large.

Your family knew then. They had come too late.

A clattering sound echoed as Cassian dropped his helmet and then fell to his knees, his wings slumped on the ground and heartbreak written on his dirty face. Mor began sobbing, wrapped in Rhysand’s arms as tears streamed down their faces. Amren brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes shining. Nesta looked like she was about to throw up, but she silently knelt next to her mate and drew him close to her side. Only then did they both start crying.

You didn’t notice any of it. You didn’t notice Feyre approaching you slowly, weeping like all the others and yet trying what she could to be there for you.

“Y/N…” she called gently, reaching out to you.

You shook off the hand she laid on your shoulder as if the touch had singed you. “No,” you growled, the sound more animalistic than anything. Your hands were still on Azriel’s cheeks, and you had no intention of letting go. “Don’t.”

He would open his eyes soon. Your mate wouldn’t abandon you. Not like this. Not when there was still so much more you had to experience together. The centuries you had had with him weren’t enough. You wanted—needed, craved—more, and Azriel would open his eyes, and he would tell you that it was alright, that he would heal and you would keep trying to have the family you both dreamed of.

The minutes passed. Your cries got louder and more desperate, drowning out any sound that came from the rest of your family. You were barely aware of their presence. You were waiting for Azriel to open his eyes.

But he didn’t. You reached for the bond in your soul only to find broken shards of what once was a golden connection built on love and understanding and mutual respect.

He was really gone.

Your Azriel.

Your mate.

Dead.

You must have said the word aloud because Feyre reached for you again. Your head snapped up, ready to lash out at her again, to yell at her and everyone else to leave you alone because how could they ever understand what you were going through? How could they ever understand what it meant to lose the love of your life?

But it wasn’t Feyre that was now standing next to you. She had retreated back to where the others stood, her hand clasped with Nesta’s as the two sisters held each other close and wept together.

“Y/N.” Cassian’s voice cracked, but his hand on your shoulder was steady as he crouched down in front of you. “Come here.”

He pried you away from Azriel and pulled you into a hug, even as you fought him. You didn’t want his touch, didn’t want anything that wasn’t hearing Azriel’s breathing and feeling the mating bond come back to life.

You screeched and struggled against his embrace, hands fisting to push him away, to hit him for a reason not even you understood, hoping it would bring you some wicked kind of comfort. But Cassian didn’t let go. He kept his strong arms around you, and the little fight you had left soon disappeared.

You collapsed against him, slumping against his chest as if life had been drained from you too. Maybe it had. Maybe you wouldn’t mind if it did. Your tears soaked into Cassian’s bloodied leathers, your sobs muffled by his embrace.

“I know,” was all he murmured. You could feel his own tears fall on your hair as he tucked you close and rested his cheek on your head. “I know…”

Somehow, the simple acknowledgement of what you were going through soothed you. Just a tiny bit. Enough for you to choke out, “I can’t do this without him, Cass.”

His hand rubbed slow circles over your back. If he was trying to get you to stop shaking, he was failing miserably.

“It’s alright,” he replied quietly. “You don’t have to figure it out now.”

It was reassuring knowing you didn’t have to. Cassian was giving you a chance to grieve, to let it all out, to scream and cry and sob because he knew you needed it.

So you did.

Emptiness grew inside you until it threatened to swallow you whole, and you let it. You didn’t have to figure it out now. You didn’t want to. You could just let yourself feel, even if it killed you. A part of you had already died, and, just like Azriel, you would never get it back. You would never be whole again.

“We had so many plans,” you whispered. Someone was sniffling, but you couldn’t tell if it was Cassian, someone else, or maybe even you. “I thought… I thought we’d have many more centuries together.”

Cassian’s arms tightened around your trembling form, but before he could reply, another pair of arms slid around you both. You didn’t bother lifting your head to see who it was.

“We all did,” Mor said, her voice weak and broken. “But we’ll be alright, Y/N.”

Shuffling steps drew closer, and then you couldn’t tell who was where, but you still sensed all your friends gathering together to hold you and each other close.

We’ll be alright. You weren’t sure you would ever be alright, not without half of your heart and soul, but… we. Mor had said “we”, not “you”.

You had lost your mate, but they had loved Azriel too. They had lost a brother, a friend, and they were suffering just like you. With you.

“We’ll be alright.” Rhys. Somewhere to your left.

You finally opened your eyes and found him staring at Azriel, still on the table. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your mate.

“In time,” Rhys murmured. His teary eyes found yours, a quiet understanding in them. “But not now.”

For you, it was most likely never. Without Azriel, the future was black and empty. There was nothing to look forward to. You couldn’t face it without him, and you didn’t want to. But you didn’t have to figure it out now.

For now, you let yourself grieve.

2nd a/n: how do writers kill off their characters? Writing this destroyed me. Now I know why SJM always finds way to bring them back to life... my soft little heart longs for a HEA whenever I write, so I'm never doing this again (maybe idk)

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

@booksbypisces i know you asked me to tag you in this months ago. Hope you're still interested! I didn't think it'd take this long 🫣

#:((((((((((((((((#DUDE :(((((((#IM SO SAD RN :((((((#im so sad :(

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quilly72 · 1 day ago

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"honey are you sure you wanna stay on those vitamins I mean look how huge they already are"

Makayla leaned back from her food as she smiled. "You idiot of course imma stay on em... JUST LOOK at these things." She finished her dance as she grabbed the pill vial and took another vitamin.

You stared at the early empty vial even though she was only a couple days into the procedure. "

"Makayla how many did you take."

You tried to grab the vial but she quickly pulled them back.

"none of your business. They're not your enhancement pills anyway."

Her body groaned as she leaned back. Her tits level forward as they bulge over her bra.

You both stared at her chest as she giggled. "Guess I need to do some more stretching." Her body groaned again as her bust raised a bit further out.

"Makayla how many did you take"

"One a day just like the doc said" she lied As her breasts pushed forward. Her scrubs rising off her stomach as the fabric was taught. Her drawstrings on her pants pulled into the fabric as she stood up taller.

She tried to smile as her body croaked again. Her breast finally ripping the v neck a bit further down. Her piling cleavage pouring over the hole.

Okay maybe two a day

Her bra snapped in half as it fell out of her shirt. Her shoes busting off Herfeet as she raised up into the air.

Would you believe me if I said just three.

Her ass and thighs exploded the seams as her pantsaliddown her legs

Her bust finally ripping her shirt in half as they bounded forward. Her tits pressing up towards your head as she smirked.

Fuck you said in unison with different tones.

You stepped back as her smile grew wider. Her hands hitting the roof as she looked at you greedily. Taking the rest of the vial and shoving it down her throat.

Sorry it just felt too good.

Her stomach rumbled as she doubled in height. Her head bounding off the roof as she collapsed forward. The island smashed under her knee as it was pile drived to the ground. She looked up as you raced for the door.

"oh Fuck you don't"

Sheruptured out again as a giant hand snatched your legs. Pulling you towards her giant tits as she sucked you under them. Pressing their weight on top of your hips. Her feet smashed the counters as her groaninffiledthe room. Her back splitting the roof as it pressed In to the attic. Her tits dragging you forward as her head smashed into the next room.

Her swelling tits rolled over your torso as she laughed maniacally. Furniture and walls crumbling as she riggles through it. Her body groaned again as you pressed your eyes right before she washed over you succumbing to the pressure as you felt your body break with the house.

#giantess growth #gtsgrowth #giantess

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lostinthecityofstarlight · 2 days ago

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Lost In The Starlight - Part One

Rhysand (ACOTAR series) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Notes: this is my first fic and im nervous haha i will also say i LOVE rhys and feyre but i can only write x reader so this is it lol my inbox is always open just in case anyone wants to scream about bat boys in general :D

PART 2 WILL BE POSTED THIS WEEKEND <3

Word Count: 1K

Starlight glimmered through the various building's glass windows, reflecting off the stark contrast of dark leather across your chest. It had been ages since you'd stepped into Velaris. Ages since you bathed under its starlight and allowed yourself to feel it. Feel home. Your bones felt as if they resettled into your body, your heart content in the only corner of the world that ever offered you any comfort.

After an extended stay in faraway courts, you'd grown somewhat weary of ever returning. A chill ran down your spine as flashes of Amarantha's reign of terror haunted what was left of your sanity; rumors of what she'd turned the court into, what she'd turned him into, swirled, causing bile to rise in your throat. You silently thanked the Cauldron for whatever protected you long enough to stay out of her radar in order to survive, consistently ready to fight for your city and your people at a moment's notice. Rhysand made his instructions clear on that fateful night: "You must run. Shield yourself, and don't look back. Please," And that's precisely what you did. Leaving him behind felt as if your wings had been ripped out in cold blood, a piece of you lost and never to be regained. Rhys was never one to beg and certainly not one to run from any threat. But staring into his eyes that night as chaos unfolded, there was only an absence of the person you'd grown so fond of. Replaced by uninhibited fear and increasing uncertainty regarding his fate. It frightened you to your core to this day.

You glanced over the rooftop toward the city, blooming with life, allowing Velaris' beauty to overwhelm your senses and compel those thoughts into a remote part of your mind. The bustle of Fae's chattered mindlessly as you carefully tracked your steps down the narrow alley into the main street, making sure to stay out of sight. It was just as you'd envisioned it, never changing and full of life. You set your sights on the vast home atop the highest mountain. The townhouse. A place where you'd spent so much of your time so long ago. It felt like another lifetime. You contemplated winnowing there but remembered you'd lost that right the day you left Velaris behind. It took you some time to walk up to the house; the night grew more frigid but lessened as you approached the magic surrounding the property. The slight warmth was welcome after cursing your body for becoming unaccustomed to the temperature during your time away. An ornately carved wooden door appeared before you, and you wondered if he could feel you. You hadn't accessed the bridge between the two of you in what seemed like forever, often wondering if it still existed. It wasn't like you didn't have your moments over the years, moments where you would've given anything to hear from him, even if it was just a feeling. A sign he was alive. But it never came.

You managed to slip inside the house, past the foyer, and into the dining room. It was just as you remembered it, the large room housing a table large enough for a fleet to dine. A table you once shared with the people you loved most now just an ornate piece of furniture in this vast space.

"You're back." The scent of citrus and cinnamon lingered in the air as Mor walked toward you. You could've sworn you could see tears brim the very edges of her eyes, not that she would ever admit it.

"Mor." A genuine smile spread across your face, eyes mirroring hers, before she wrapped her arms around you. Mor's strength did not go unnoticed as she hugged you tightly before pulling back a bit. Her golden hair tumbled along her impeccable skin, the same warm light and kind eyes you remembered confiding in so long ago dancing along your features.

"It is so good to see you." She said while squeezing your shoulder one last time before letting go. "I knew you'd come back to us." Her words sunk in, and you stepped back, suddenly needing space.

"Come back?... You knew?" The realization washed over you. "You knew I was alive this whole time."

"I did." Mor's eyes cast downward for a moment. "We all did. Didn't you know we were alive? You must've felt it too, he.." Mor's voice cut off as your mind reeled at the mere mention of Rhysand.

"Rhys...could feel me? That's impossible. I tried for years; I did everything and felt nothing."

"Well, whatever you did, or he did, it worked. He never explained how or why or even when he felt it, but he did. It was the first thing he said to me when he returned to Velaris. Our only piece of mind throughout the years was knowing you were still out there somewhere."

It was impossible. The bridge between you was working all this time, and Rhys didn't so much as try to push through it. A flicker of irritation flashed before you. A past version of yourself fought to break through the surface, someone who would've demanded answers and let rage fuel her actions. Someone you'd worked hard to leave so far behind. You took a deep breath as you stepped toward Mor, allowing your mind to regain its calm once again.

"I'm here now." You offered her a smile and took her hand; Mor squeezed back as if in gratitude. "It's in the past, I'm just glad to be with you now." She nodded. The house was eerily quiet as you looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"They're off doing Rhysands bidding as usual." Her smile faltered for a moment but regained its composure before continuing. "They'll be back soon."

"I missed you. I missed all of you." Mor opened her mouth as if to respond before her gaze traveled toward the far wall behind you. A familiar warmth washed over you like an embrace you'd found yourself in a million times over, a feeling you knew all too well.

"Hello, Darling." The tremble of a familiar voice jolted you. Rhysand stood across the room, head to toe in Ilyrian leathers, wings tucked tightly on his back, and the same breathtaking smirk you'd tried so hard to forget plastered on his too-handsome face. "It's been far too long."

...............................................

PART 2 WILL BE POSTED THIS WEEKEND <3

IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED IN PART 2 PLEASE COMMENT DOWN BELOW AND THANK YOU FOR READING :)

TAG LIST: @mystirica-blog @zoeisdreaming6 (let me know through dm/inbox if you'd like to be removed at any time)

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overrboarrd · 2 days ago

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UNBREAK MY HEART [ from scratch pt. iii ]

a/n: i’m not jinxing myself no more y’all. every time i say ima post something, i get super busy and it gets pushed back a whole week. so here’s part 4, it’s just as tense as the last part so pls don’t hate me <3

warnings: angstt

"un-break my heart , say you'll love me again undo this hurt you caused when you walked out the door and walked out of my life"

“You look like hell, uce,” Jon finally broke the empty silence that filled his living room.

Joe sat on the edge of Jon’s couch, staring blankly at the bottle of beer in his hand. The condensation dripped down onto his palm, cold and unrelenting, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging in his chest. He hadn’t planned to come here, but the quiet echoes of his own house had been unbearable. Jon’s place, noisy with the distant sound of his kids playing in the backyard, at least gave him the illusion of calm. He huffed out a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Thanks. That’s exactly what I came to hear.” Joe leaned back. The television played some highlights of last night’s football game, but neither of them paid much attention.

Jon sat in the armchair beside him, his sharp gaze pinned on his cousin. He didn’t push, not yet, but Joe knew the look. It was the same one Jon gave him when they were kids, back when Joe had tried to hide bruises he got from football practice. The look that said Jon could see right through him.

“What’s goin on?”

“Nothing.” Joe shrugged, taking a slow sip of his beer and keeping his gaze fixed on the bottle.

“Bullshit.” Jon’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a challenge.

Joe clenched his jaw. “It’s just the rehab.”

Jon’s brow lifted. “The rehab? Or Camille?”

At her name, Joe’s stomach twisted, and the beer suddenly tasted bitter. He set the bottle down on the coffee table with a thud, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, too bad,” Jon said, unfazed. “You’re here, which means you do wanna talk about it. You just don’t know how to start.”

Joe’s head snapped up, anger flaring in his chest. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

Jon shrugged. “I’ve known you your whole life. You bottle everything up, uce. Always have. You keep stuffing things down until they explode. And when they do, you the one left pickin up the pieces.”

Joe scoffed, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s better that way. Some things don’t need to be talked about.”

“Like Camille?” Jon pressed.

Joe glared at him, his jaw tightening. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it,” Jon said, his tone softening as his posture straightened. “Come on, Joe. What’s really goin on?”

For a moment, Joe said nothing. He stared at the wall, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t want to feel. The lime-washed wall blurred in his mind, replaced by Camille’s face—the tension in her jaw when she was focused, the way her voice softened just enough when she thought he was in pain.

But he let the words come, sharp and raw, cutting through the silence.

“Seeing her every day is like ripping open a wound that won’t heal,” he said, his voice low and strained. “She’s right there, just trying to fix my shoulder like… like none of it even mattered. Like I didn’t matter. Like she didn’t walk out on me without a damn word.”

Jon hummed, letting a beat pass before speaking. “You think that’s how she really feels?”

“I don’t know,” Joe snapped. “And honestly, I don’t care.” He leaned forward again, his hands gripping his knees. “I gave her everything, Jon. I didn’t hold anything back. I loved her, and she still left. And now she’s just…here. And I’m supposed to just… what? Pretend it didn’t happen? Pretend I’m not still pissed as hell that she didn’t even give me a chance to fix whatever the hell went wrong?”

Jon leaned forward too, his expression serious. “So you gonna tell her all that? Or you just gonna carry it around, hoping she’ll figure it out on her own?”

Joe shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “It wouldn’t matter, she still walked out of that rink. I fought for her, Jon. I fought like hell after that. What’s the point of trying to bring it up?”

“The point,” Jon said, his voice steady, “is that you still care. And don’t try to deny it, uce, ‘cause I can see it all over your face. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be this angry. You wouldn’t be here, venting to me.”

Joe’s chest tightened, and he looked away, his jaw clenching. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Jon agreed. “But the thing is —you got a choice. You can keep holdin on to all this anger, or you can let yourself feel the other stuff too. The hurt, the love, the hope. Yeah, she left, but she’s here now. Don’t you think that might mean something?”

“The hell am I supposed to do about it now? Cause every time I see her, all I feel is this...mix of anger and—” He stopped, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I can’t do that shit again. I won’t.”

Jon sighed, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Look, I’m not sayin you shouldn’t protect yourself. But you’re not just protecting yourself—you’re shutting her out. And maybe she deserves that, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe you just gotta be honest with yourself and Cam. You got her in front of you again, uce. How many people get that kind of second chance? But if you don’t at least try to talk some of it out, you gonna regret it.”

The room fell quiet again, the weight of Jon’s words pressing on Joe’s chest. He didn’t respond, unable to find the right thing to say.

Jon stood, clapping a hand on Joe’s shoulder. As Jon walked back to the kitchen, Joe sat, staring at the condensation pooling on the coffee table. He hated that his cousin was right.

But knowing it and doing something about it were two very different things.

—---

Architect was unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around Joe like a vice, squeezing tight and leaving no room to breathe. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead only served to amplify the emptiness. He glanced at the clock on the far wall. 7:45 PM. The place had officially closed fifteen minutes ago, but he and Camille were still here. Alone.

She stood a few feet away, her back to him as she sanitized the treatment table. The sharp smell of cleaning solution filled the air, and her movements were mechanical, almost as if she were trying to avoid looking at him.

“Alright,” she said, her voice clipped as she turned to face him. “Let’s get started. We’ll do some stretches first, then work on the strengthening exercises.”

Joe nodded, the words sticking in his throat as he sat down on the edge of the table. His body ached, not from the rehab, but from the weight he’d been carrying since the moment she walked back into his life. Almost two full weeks of these sessions, of her being so close yet so distant, had worn him down to the raw nerve.

Camille reached for his arm, gently guiding it into position for the stretch. Her touch was clinical, but his skin burned where her fingers brushed against him, igniting a fire he’d been trying to smother since the day she’d left.

“Joe, relax your shoulder, you’re compensating with your back again.” she instructed, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before darting away.

“I got it,” He snapped, his tone sharper than intended.

Camille stepped back, swallowing the urge to bite back. Instead, she softened her voice. “I know you do. But this isn’t about pushing through pain, it’s about healing.”

Joe dropped his arm abruptly, the band snapping back as he let out a frustrated grunt. “Healing?” he said bitterly, his voice low but laced with anger. “You think this is healing? Having to sit here, day after day, while you pretend like nothing happened between us?”

Camille froze, the words slicing through the professional barrier she’d carefully maintained. “Pretending? Joe-”

“I’m not gonna put up with this!” he gestured between them. “This… act you been putting on for the past two weeks. Actin’ like we’re all good. Like you didn’t just walk out of my life without a saying anything.”

Her eyes widened as her face faltered slightly. “Joe, I’m here to help you with your recovery. That’s all.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back, sliding off the table. “You don’t just get to come back into my life and pretend like we’re strangers. You don’t get to act like what you did didn’t wreck me.”

“Can you just lis—”

“No,” he cut her off, creating some distance between them. His broad shoulders heaved as he turned to face her, his eyes blazing. “You don’t get to talk right now. I spent two years with you, Camille. Two years building a life, planning a future, only for you to rip it all away without even telling me why. Do you know how many nights I sat in that empty house, wondering what I did wrong? Wondering why I wasn’t enough for you?”

Her composure cracked, her lips trembling as she took a step back. “It wasn’t about you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then what was it about?” he demanded, his anger boiling over. “Because from where I was standing, it sure as hell felt like it was about me.”

Tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked them away, straightening her shoulders. “You… you were everything to me, Joe. And that terrified me. I was scared of losing myself in you. I-I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“So you ran,” he said bitterly. “Instead of talking to me, instead of letting me in, you just left.”

“I didn’t know how to stay,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I was afraid I’d ruin everything. Afraid I’d ruin you.”

Joe laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Well, congratulations. You managed to do that anyway.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between them. Camille’s tears finally spilled over, but she held his gaze, refusing to look away. “I know I hurt you. And I’ve hated myself for it every single day. But you were so sure of everything. Your career, your life, your love for me… I didn’t know how to keep up with that. I didn’t know how to be enough for you.”

Joe’s expression softened, though the hurt lingered in his eyes. “You were enough, Camille. You were always enough. But you didn’t even give me the chance to show you that. You didn’t trust me to handle your fears. You just left.”

Camille’s voice broke as she replied, “Because I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t think I deserved the kind of love you were offering. And by the time I realized I was wrong, it felt too late to come back.”

He'd figured this moment would come, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. Joe turned away, running a hand over his face as he tried to calm the storm inside him. “I loved you, Camille. I still…” He stopped himself, his chest heaving. “I would’ve never given up on us like that. ”

“I know I made a mistake.” Her voice cracked again, and she quickly wiped at her tears. “And I never stopped loving you. I just—" Her voice rang in his ears, the rawness of her words made his chest tighten. “I don't know if it's too late, but I needed you to know that.”

Joe's eyes fell shut, his mind warring between anger and the yearning he’d tried to bury. Her confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw like a blade against his skin, carving open old wounds he thought had scarred over. For so long, he had craved those words. In the sleepless nights when the silence was louder than his thoughts, in the moments when he reached for his phone only to remember there was no one waiting on the other end. He wanted to yell, to tell her she was too late, that the man she had left behind didn’t exist anymore. But the truth… the truth was that her absence had never stopped haunting him. He stood rigid, his emotions snarled in a web of anger, longing, and something dangerously close to hope.

Camille searched his face, her own filled with fragile hope and deep regret. "I’m not asking you to forgive me," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just asking for a chance to show you that I’m not the same person who left.”

“I don't trust you," he admitted, a long silence filled the room before he shook his head softly. "But I…I don’t know if I can let you go again, either.”

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x oc

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jaredpadonlyyyy · 15 hours ago

Text

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙎𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙀𝙀𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏

• 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙉𝙄 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘞𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴) 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑, 𝙁𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙆, 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙭𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇, 𝙁𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙄𝙑𝙀. 𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙋𝙄𝙀.

You have finally finished getting ready for the night. You and your friends were going out to a bar one of the girls found. You were wearing a tight black mini skirt, with a red cropped long sleeve shirt, some high heel boots they were black, your hair was in long loose curls, flowing down your back, with light natural makeup look. You walked out of your room to find Jenny sitting on the couch waiting after she was done getting ready. “We should get going.” You told her and she nodded her head and stood up from the couch. “You look hot, I could almost kiss you.” Your best friend said. Lately you have been having such an attraction to your best friend and didn’t know why.

After having a karaoke session in the car, you both arrived at the bar. You thanked the uber driver for letting you have that session and got out the car, you were both responsible enough not to drink and drive. So taking an uber is what you would prefer then to wake up in jail telling you that you killed someone for driving drunk. That’s irresponsible and very idiotic.

You and your girlfriends had a few drinks, danced and now you and your best friend were entering your apartment stumbling around as you both kissed and a man named Dean you both met at the bar earlier that night. Dean just watched how you and your best friend ripped each other’s clothes off, both of your hands all over each other as he sat down on the couch and watched you both. Finally pulling away.

You went over to Dean and sat down on his side with only your black laced thong on, and Jenny as well. He looked at both of you as his hands cupped both of your chests, pinching your hard pink nipples making you both moan. You looked over at Jenny and you leaned over to her and looked into her eyes and then softly placed your lips on hers as your hand went to her lower reigns and inside her purple thong to feel her clit making her gasp as Dean watched you both.

“Come on, let’s go to my bed it’s bigger.” You said as you pulled Jenny with ylu along with the new man you both met. When you got inside your room you pulled off your thong as did Jenny and you told her to lay down and spread her legs. Your hands traced her body as Dean did the same with yours. Your fingers found her clit and began circling it turning her into a moaning mess as you teased her pussy entrance as you looked at her and how her eyes were closed and her hands gripping the sheets as she said your name.

Dean pumped his hard cock groaning as he saw you play with her pussy. His fingers plunged into your pussy making you gasp as you did the same with Jenny. “Oh, fuck!” Her back arched as you moved your fingers inside of her and Dean inside of you from behind and you were loving every second of it. You told Jenny to sit more up to the header of her bed and you bend down, your ass sticking out as your tongue flicked her clit. “Aah!” Jenny moaned as Dean lined his dick at your entrance and thrusted inside.

“Fuck!” You moan against her pussy as he rolled his hips and you ate out your roommates pussy. Your fingers playing with her clit going from side to side as Dean’s thrusts started to pick up. “I’m going to cum!” Jenny’s legs started to shake. “Cum for me, baby.” You moaned looking at her as her face scrunched up and her body started shaking and it got tensed as she lets it out. “Ooh, Fuuuck!” She grabbed you from your hair bringing you deeper as her pussy fluttered and her orgasm got on your tongue. Then your pussy started to flutter making Dean groan as he digs his fingers into your ass as his thrusts started getting sloppy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He kept on grunting as his cock started twitching.

Your roommate reached under you and with her fingers she started to move your clit from side to side making your orgasm come closer to making you explode. “Shit, aah!” Dean groaned loudly his green eyes rolled to the back of his head as he released inside of her. Pulling out of you the three of you collapsed. Jenny and Dean on each side of you as you three tried to catch your breathes. “That was fun.” Jenny said as the three of you chuckled at what she said. “Yeah, never thought I would do something like that.” You said and then the three of you fell asleep.

Dean hugging you from the front and Jenny hugging you from behind, both of their arms around your waist not letting you go at all and you were so happy.

I don’t know how to write threesomes but I’ve tried lmao anyways

ENJOY! ☺️

#supernatural #spn #spnfandom #spnfamily #spn smut #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #fyppage #tumblr fyp #fypツ #fypシ゚viral #my fyp #fyp

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durrtydawg · 2 days ago

Text

The Sadir Inheritance

{Sam Drake x F!Reader} Chapter 9 | 'Scotty's Archival Finds'

i would like him to put his [redacted] in my [redacted]

masterlist ✨

Other chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Things had to ramp up sooner or later.

Word count: 5.3k-ish x

Sam wakes with a start, unsure at first what’s roused him until the faint sound of someone jumping into the pool outside filters through the window. His body feels stiff, his head heavy, and for a moment, he wonders why he didn’t wake up in his own bed. Then he glances down.

She’s still asleep, curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hand - scrunched, and clinging to the edge of his vest - holds him in place as much as her weight does. He tries not to move too much, to keep the moment intact, but his chest tightens, his breathing shallow.

He looks at her for a moment. There’s a faint crease across her cheek, probably from her bracelet, and a strand of hair sticks awkwardly to her lip - but somehow that makes it worse. The imperfection.

This feels weird, doesn’t it? Inappropriate? He shifts slightly, testing how much freedom he has without waking her. Not much. But he doesn’t mind, really. That’s the problem.

His eyes drift down to her hand, resting against his chest. There’s a faint smudge of green ink near her knuckles, and it takes him a second to place it: the chewed-up pen she insists on using, despite all evidence that it’s a disaster waiting to happen. A soft huff escapes him, barely audible.

Without thinking, his fingers twitch, almost moving toward the mark, as if to brush it away or trace it. He stops himself just in time. What the hell is he doing?

A series of horrendously loud knocks distracts Sam instantly. He jolts upright, violently shunting her off of him, the ledger sliding off his lap and hitting the floor with a muted thud. His brain scrambles to catch up, heart already pounding like a starter pistol’s gone off.

“What happened?” she blurts, sitting up next to him. Her hair’s a mess, sticking out at odd angles, and the crease on her cheek is more pronounced now that the light hits it. There’s something faintly dazed in her expression, and for some reason, it guts him in a way he can’t explain. It’s stupidly endearing.

He twists, grabbing his phone off the nightstand, screen lighting up as if on cue. “Ah, shit.”

“Scott?” she whispers, scrambling for her own phone that’s gotten lost somewhere in the sheets.

Sure enough, there it is - missed calls. Plural. He glances sideways at her screen. Same thing. “Guy’s persistent,” he mutters, rubbing his neck. God, they were out for almost three hours.

The knock comes again, harder this time. The kind that practically demands the door be ripped off its hinges. They both look at the door, then at each other.

“Hang on,” she calls groggily after a tut, already pushing herself upright.

Sam scrubs a hand over his face, groaning as the last remnants of sleep vanish. His eyes drop to the ledger, now sprawled open on the floor, pages creased. Three hours. He checks the time on his phone. They’d burned three hours chasing connections that still didn’t quite fit, only to end up here. He should be grateful. This is probably the longest consecutive string of hours he’s spent knocked out in… decades, perhaps.

She stumbles toward the door, running a hand through her hair, tugging at the hem of her shorts. Sam doesn’t mean to look, but his eyes catch anyway - her messy hair, the sleep-soft slump of her shoulders, the way the late afternoon light frames her.

She glances back at him, one eyebrow raised, and her lips curve into something faintly teasing. “You gonna get up too, or are you planning to sit there all day?”

Sam snorts, leaning back into the headboard. “Nah, you’ve got it covered, sweetheart. You’re very intimidating for someone half-asleep.”

The laugh she lets out is soft and fleeting, but it punches straight through him. He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look away, to shove the feeling back down where it belongs.

Jesus.

He takes a swig from his water bottle, hoping the cold will wake him up properly, or at least distract him. It doesn’t work. Not entirely. There’s something about seeing her like this - unguarded, maybe - that lodges itself somewhere rather uncomfortably.

She opens the door. The moment’s gone, perhaps not a second too soon.

Scott. Rejoice! Sam watches him barrel in like he owns the place, flushed and wild-eyed, sweat slicking his brow.

“Finally,” he snaps, brushing past her without so much as a hello, leaving her frowning and slightly startled. “Christ almighty, you have no idea the hoops I just jumped through to get back here, then Sam wouldn’t answer his-” He freezes, his eyes flicking between them as he clocks she’s not alone.

She glances back at him as he gets off of the bed, her expression tight - a little coy, perhaps - before pushing the door shut. Right. Focus.

Sam’s leaning casually against the bathroom door now, arms crossed, looking just disheveled enough to give the younger man ideas. He can see the flicker of something in Scott’s expression - perhaps accusatory - but it’s gone almost as quickly as it comes.

Sam raises a brow, lips twitching. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Yeah, something happened,” Scott bites, pacing the room like a caged animal. “I was followed.”

The words drop like a brick. Sam straightens, all the humour draining from his face. He flicks a glance at her. Eyes wide, the sleepiness gone in an instant.

“Followed? Like… chased?” she echoes, stepping toward Scott. “By who?”

“I don’t know!” Scott rakes a hand through his hair, his movements jerky - the most unhinged Sam’s ever seen him. “It wasn’t some… high speed chase or anything, but he was definitely following me. Tall guy. Caucasian, I think. Dark clothes. Baseball cap. Real generic, Joe Goldberg type shit - but he was on me from the archive all the way to the rental. I had to ditch the car and take a cab just to make sure I lost him.”

Sam exhales through his nose, jaw tightening despite his desire to question who on earth Joe Goldberg is. “That’s the second one.”

Scott stops mid-pace, blinking. “Second?”

Sam nods slowly, his brows drawn stiffly together. “That guy I was speakin’ to this morning? Same deal - blending in, but not really. Too interested in what we were doing. Loitering around too many times for it to be a coincidence, you know? Balcony out there, then back in Petra, and at the cafe earlier.”

“Same guy?” she asks, glancing between them.

“Doubt it,” Sam mutters, scratching his chin. “Why tail Scott but leave me alone?”

She folds her arms, frowning. “So what? We’ve got two people watching us all of a sudden?”

Scott shrugs, helpless and visibly rattled. "Maybe? Or… maybe this has nothing to do with us. Could just be bad luck, right? Wrong place, wrong time." His eyes snap to Sam, brows pinched, practically begging for reassurance.

Sam blinks, straightening his posture on instinct. He feels the corners of his mouth twitch - amused despite himself. Scott looking to him for answers? Now that’s rich.

His jaw tightens as he leans casually against the desk, tapping a finger against the edge. Stay cool. Don’t gloat. But God, is this… a little satisfying. The guy who always has the answers, cracking just a little. Sam has to bite his lip just to hide the faint smirk pulling at them.

He glances sideways, just enough to catch her in his peripheral. Is she noticing this? Impressed, maybe?

But then the smugness dulls, replaced by a quiet unease coiling low in his gut. Panic, faint but - yep - most certainly present. Wrong place, wrong time? Yeah, right. This feels like a storm brewing.

“Makes no sense,” he mutters. “Nobody knows about the inheritance, not really. And even if they did, it’s hardly like we’ve been broadcasting our every move. So how the hell do they know to follow us?”

Scott’s pacing again, practically wearing a trench into the carpet. “Maybe they’re just covering their bases. Long game. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, so how can they?”

Sam grits his teeth, his thoughts racing. He doesn’t like this - not the timing, not the fact that they’ve potentially been spotted, and definitely not the creeping paranoia tightening in his chest. If they were dealing with professionals, it’d only be a matter of time before someone made a move.

“Doesn’t track,” he mutters, barely realising he’s spoken aloud.

“What doesn’t?” she presses, her voice sharper now.

“All of it,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “Whoever these people are, they’re not amateurs. And yet, here we are. No threats. No demands. Just... watchers. What are they waiting for?”

The room falls quiet. Sam doesn’t have the answers and the air feels thick.

Scott sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Well… whatever’s going on, at least we’ve got nothing worth stealing yet.” His tone’s laced with frustration, but there’s a sideways glance - like he’s still trying to convince himself they’re still fine.

Sam stiffens, the words hitting him wrong. Nothing worth stealing. Whoops. His sight flicks over to where she’s sat herself on the edge of the bed, catching her eyes. It’s brief. Just enough time for a little flash of recognition passing between them. They’re very much on the same page. Whatever he’s feeling - guilt, maybe - it must’ve flashed across his face, because Scott’s suddenly on it like a hawk.

“Wait a second,” Scott says slowly, his head tilting, eyes narrowing like he’s just spotted a tell in a poker game. Fitting. “What was that? You two just did a thing. Don’t tell me you’re holding out on me.”

He leans forward slightly, pacing like he’s warming up for an argument. Sam straightens but doesn’t respond right away, letting them mull in the silence. She shifts uneasily, and there’s this flicker of hesitation before she moves, almost like she’s asking him permission. It’s subtle - a glance, nothing more - but he clocks it anyway.

Gets another weird kick out of it, too.

She bends to grab the ledger off the floor, the movement snapping him out of his head. Straightens up and holds it out toward Scott, her grip tight.

“Found this,” she says, voice reluctant.

Scott takes the book without a word, his expression unreadable as he flips through the pages, flopping himself onto the chair by the vanity. Sam watches his eyes dart across the handwriting - scrawled notes, messy numbers, dates - and catches her biting her thumb again.

Scott’s hand drags across his forehead as the cogs turn.

“It’s a gambling log,” she says, voice softer this time, like the words might be weaselled out by the wrong ears if spoken too loudly. Scott exhales sharply, closing the ledger and leaning back in the chair.

"Where’d you get it?" Scott’s eyes shift up to Sam, eyes narrowed.

He shakes his head, jerking a thumb toward her. "I didn’t. It was her."

Scott’s eyebrows lift. "Oh. Where’d you find it? Market?"

Her shoulders stiffen, and she crosses her arms, already bracing for what’s coming. "I… found it in Umm ar-Rasas the other night."

Scott freezes mid-breath, incredulous. "Hang on - two days ago? And neither of you thought to tell me?!"

Sam shrugs. "Hey, she only just showed me, too."

Scott exhales sharply, his tone dropping. "Shit. Why’d you hide it?"

She huffs, rubbing at her face, the weariness of the past few days etched into her movements. "I was going to show you - both of you - as soon as I found something concrete."

Sam clocks the quick flick of Scott’s eyes toward him, and he shrugs again, palms up. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Scott leans forward slightly, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and something just shy of condescension. "What, is an old book you found in the middle of nowhere, still intact, not concrete enough for you, darl’?"

Her arms tighten across her chest. "Oh, for-“ She rolls her eyes, a sarcastic laugh practically dripping out of her mouth. "Another instalment of What Would Saint Scott Do? Lucky us."

Sam presses his lips together, hiding a smirk. It’s kind of funny, seeing her give as good as she gets, but he knows where this is heading.

Scott’s jaw tightens, his face darkening. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

She doesn’t even flinch. "You’ve got opinions about everything, don’t you? Like you’ve never kept anything back for a second."

And there it is. Sam straightens up slightly, bracing for impact. He’d seen enough spats in his life to know when one was about to hit full throttle.

Scott’s voice sharpens, cutting through the room like a blade. "Don’t be ridiculous. If it were me, I’d’ve been eager to share. This isn’t just your damn treasure hunt, you know."

She raises her eyebrows, letting out a sharp laugh. "Oh, is that right? Well, since we’re in a sharing mood-“ Her eyes lock onto him, the shift in tone catching Sam off guard. "Why don’t you tell me why you had my wrist gripped so tight after I passed out the other day, huh?"

Scott blinks, caught mid-step. This buys Sam’s attention almost instantly. "What the hell are you on about?" he asks, glancing between her and Sam.

She leans forward slightly, jabbing a finger in his direction. "You heard me. When I woke up, your hand was clamped around me like a vice. Bruise has only just gone. Care to explain that?"

He swallows, his jaw working like he’s chewing through words he can’t quite spit out.

Sam watches with intrigue as Scott exhales sharply, throwing his hands up. "Seriously? You smack your head on the ground, conk yourself out, and bleed all over the place, and now you’re pissed I was checking your bloody pulse? Next time, I’ll just leave you there, shall I?"

Sam sighs, stepping forward before this thing spirals any further. "All right, enough. Both of you. I’m too tired for this shit."

The room falls quiet, Scott backing off first, though his expression stays hard. "I’m sorry. I’m on edge. Getting followed through alleyways doesn’t exactly leave you in a good mood."

She exhales through her nose, still tense, but her voice softens slightly. "Fine." Then, as if on autopilot, she adds, "Sorry for snapping."

Sam watches her for a second longer, his gut twisting uncomfortably. The way she’d brought up Scott holding her wrist - she’d been sitting on that one for a while. And Scott… well, he wasn’t sure if that defensiveness was guilt or chase-fuelled exasperation. Either way, it’s kinda nice to see him rattled for a change.

"Right," Sam says finally, a clap cutting the awkward air in two. "Now that we’re all friends again, Scott - why don’t we get you up to speed, huh?”

“I’m all ears.” He says with a tight smile, like he’s trying to pretend the last minute didn’t happen.

She nods at Sam, walking over to Scott, reopening the book, chewing at her lip. She clears her throat.

“Emaan was hosting games in the crypt. Right where Sam found those cards.”

“Mhm,” he hums, thumbing the fragile pages.

Sam crosses his arms, his voice cutting in. “And the stakes weren’t just cash.”

Scott’s head snaps up, his grip tightening on the book. “What kind of stakes?”

“Things of value,” she replies, her arms crossing over her chest again as she leans back against the wall. “Huge sums of money, land… Some of it I can’t even make out. Toward the end, it gets messy. A page or two ripped out, even.”

Scott’s face hardens, his thumb brushing over the spine like he’s trying to squeeze answers out of the damn thing. “You think this is what they’re after? Those guys? This... book?”

Sam shrugs one shoulder, but there’s a knot in his gut that won’t loosen. “It’s a start,” he says, his tone flat. “If they know about it, they’re already ahead of us. But it’s not exactly a big bag full’a gold, is it?”

His words settle over the room all foggy. Sam glances at her again - arms hugging herself now, gaze fixed on Scott. She’s tense. He can feel it, even across the room.

“So,” he says, voice low, measured. “Not worth stealing, huh?”

Sam doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. The tension in his shoulders speaks loud enough. Instead, he watches Scott stare at the book like it might open a black hole right there in the room.

“Looks like we’ve got more to worry about than we thought.” Scott mutters.

Sam flicks back to her, and for a split second, their unease mirrors each other’s. The same question’s tugging at all three of them: What the hell kind of game are they playing? And more importantly - who else is holding the damn cards?

They’ve been sitting stagnant for too long - they need something good, and soon.

“Does any of this match up with what you found?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest, squeezing a little anxiously at his bicep.

Scott slumps back in his chair, looking like everything that’s transpired today has finally pinned him down. “I think so.” He rubs his temples, a heavy sigh dragging out of him. "Hey, look, why don’t we step out? Go over all this somewhere a little more relaxed. I could use a stiff drink and a proper meal.” He looks between the two of them with a hopeful smile.

Sam raises an eyebrow but keeps his tone casual. “You think that, given the fact you’ve just been chased down several miles, playing detective in public is a good idea?”

Scott shrugs, “You said your guy was loitering around here, too right?”

Sam sighs. Then nods. Fair play.

“Right, and she’s got cabin fever, so-”

“She is fine,” Sam has to bite back a smirk as she cuts Scott off, leaving him putting up his palms in mock defence. “But if a stiff drink is involved, count me in.”

Scott’s already pushing out of his chair. The boy’s restless. “There’s a decent spot just a block over. Quiet. Give me ten to shower, then I’ll meet you out front.”

After a quick nod, he up and leaves.

Sam stays leant against the wall, fingers tapping against his forearm as his eyes flick over to the ledger Scott's dumped on the dressing table. Then to her. And her damn thumbnail back between her teeth yet again.

The room feels like it’s been doused in a cocktail of sweaty, stale tension. He frowns.

“You all right?”

She startles, blinking up at him like he’s yanked her out of a deep spiral. “How could I not be?” Her smile flickers to life, quick and bright, and his stomach twists because it’s very much false. “Got my knight in shining Hawaiian shirt here, haven’t I?”

It’s almost convincing - the quip, the smile - but something about her feels… dulled, still. Her usual fire is there, just buried under too much. She’s good at hiding it, sure. Just not from him.

He doesn’t push. There’s been enough drama for one afternoon.

Sam huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he adjusts his collar. “Yeah, screams 'chivalrous', doesn't it?” He smirks, trying to sell the joke, but inside, her words cloy enough to make eye contact a slight challenge.

Instead, he stands, stretching out his back and forcing a grin onto his face. But his mind’s already racing. If Scott’s holding something back - and Sam’s gut says he is - then maybe a drink or two will crack him open.

If there really are people hot on their trail, they don’t have the luxury of patience, and he hopes that whatever information Scott was able to dig up is enough of a catalyst for this old book to mean something.

“Gonna head back next door,” he says after a beat. “Wake myself up.”

She nods, dragging herself off the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’ve got ‘sleep mouth’.”

Sam’s lips twitch - of course she’d call it that. He watches as she rubs her eyes and heads to the bathroom, muttering about toothpaste. His eyes hold for a second too long, clocking the tenseness of her shoulders.

He can't let her worry any more than she has to.

Before he leaves, he pauses in the doorway. “Hey,” he says, waiting until she glances up. His eyes narrow as if to hold her attention tight. “We’re good.”

His tone is steady, grounded, and for a moment, he sees the shadow of a real smile flicker back to life. She nods. That’ll have to do for now.

The restaurant is dimly lit. Rustic. Traditional, with the type of charm that, if it were back in London, would’ve made it an influencer hotspot - a sharp contrast to the sterile monotony of your hotel room.

You slide into a rounded booth, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space, making you feel oddly at ease. Sam scoots in beside you, his knee brushing yours as he adjusts the collar again. It’s an absentminded gesture, but regardless, it sends a warm prickle up your spine. You remind yourself that you must get your shit together.

Scott takes the opposite side, already scanning the drink menu as if it’s a new lead. His fingers drum lightly against the table’s edge, restless, like his mind’s running three steps ahead.

He leans back, gesturing toward the waiter. He asks for something in Arabic - smooth and confident as usual - then turns to you with a faint smile. “Are you good with whiskey?”

You nod, managing a small smile back. It feels stiff, the earlier spat between the two of you still clinging.

Sam chuckles, breaking the awkwardness. “Didn’t peg you for a whiskey guy.”

Scott smirks, leaning back against the booth. “Necessary when you’ve had a day like today. Think we all have a few anxieties to drown out, ey?” He raises a brow at you. The words sound friendly, but there’s an edge to them - a pointedness that makes your stomach twist. So he's still not over it - picking at the scab. Fine.

The drinks arrive quickly, the waiter setting down three glasses. Scott takes a long sip, exhaling sharply as he sets his glass down with a thunk.

“I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Let’s get to it. Scotty's archival finds.”

“Lay it on us.” Sam leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, hands clasped together.

You nod, clutching your glass, the cool condensation a welcome distraction against your fingertips.

Scott pulls a notebook from his bag, flipping it open. “So, so far we’ve got,” he starts, glancing at you, then over your shoulder to Sam before returning to his notes, “Emaan’s letter. Gambling. Winning or losing big - potentially losing the entire inheritance. Yes?”

You exchange a look with Sam, who shrugs and nods. “Sounds about right,” he says, leaning back against the booth, dragging his glass with him.

"And our ongoing questions include…" he peruses his notes again, "One: what actually is the Sadir Inheritance,"

“Mhm.” You hum, taking a sip. It's vile. People drink this for fun? Masochists.

You make an odd hiss-cough hybrid sound that draws a snort out of Sam, who takes it upon himself to pull you back by the shoulder to give himself the pleasure of seeing your screwed up face.

Scott continues speaking as you silently slide your glass over to Sam, grimacing as he pours your share into his own glass. You mouth a 'disgusting' at him, to which he responds by jabbing his elbow into your arm.

"and two: seeing as Petra was a bust, where can we find it?”

You wish away the aftertaste and focus. Nods all round.

“Well, I’ve got potential routes to explore for the latter right…” Scott fans his notes out in front of the three of you. “...Here. Emaan's connection to British aristocrats and… a lady called Layla.”

The name hits you like a slap to the back of the head. Your breath hitches, a dull thrumming beginning at the base of your skull. Again. Brilliant. Could we not?

Suffice to say, the returning feeling is both concerning and really starting to piss you off.

Scott notices your reaction and pauses, brow furrowing. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, waving it off even as the tightness lingers in your chest. “Yeah. Sorry, just… go on. Layla.” Your mouth feels tight when you say the name - the dreadful sensation you get right as your body is preparing to throw up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Sam frowning, his eyes sharp and searching. You pretend not to notice, forcing your attention onto Scott’s notes.

“Layla Bashar was Emaan’s… partner? Girlfriend? Lover, whatever you want to call it.” Scott leans forward, his voice dropping like he’s letting you both in on a secret. “They couldn’t marry. Lower class, a scandal waiting to happen, etcetera, etcetera, so they kept it a secret.”

The waiter returns, setting down a plate of warm flatbread between the three of you. You barely glance at him when you nod in thanks, your thoughts snagged on Scott’s revelation. Without thinking, you grab a piece, tearing off a corner and chewing rapidly.

Sam’s frown deepens, scepticism etched deeply. “So you think she got her hands on it?”

Scott shrugs, his expression oddly nonchalant. “Well, she died, so-”

“She died?” you cut in sharply, leaning forward with your mouth half full, hand curling round the nape of your neck to subtly attempt to massage the persistent ache away. “So is that a yes or a no?”

Scott lifts a hand to temper your interruption. That action alone makes you grit your teeth. “She died in childbirth. About twenty-two years or so before Emaan’s death. So… no.”

Sam straightens, his brow furrowed. “Woah, hold on. Childbirth? Emaan had a kid with her?”

Your pulse spikes as you snort in disbelief, fingertips digging into your scalp as you wave the bread around. “He - he didn’t have any kids. Nothing came up in our research. He was the last of the Sadir bloodline.”

“It’s… blurry, sure. No record explicitly says it was his, but-” Scott pauses, flipping a page in his notebook. “-illegitimate children sometimes went undocumented. That’s what the archivist said, anyway. And given that they were supposedly childhood sweethearts… it’d make sense for it to be his.”

“Fuck!” You take another, rather feral bite. “How on earth are we supposed to follow up on that, then?”

Sam blinks, still processing, grimacing as he flicks off a bit of bread you’ve accidentally spat on his forearm. “Did the kid survive?”

Scott shakes his head. “Like I said, Sam, undocumented. Don't even know its gender.”

Blood rushes to your head, drowning out whatever choice expletives Sam mutters. Bite, chew, swallow. Your thoughts fragment, melting into a bubbling cauldron of stress. Sam and Scott’s voices fade into the background, your focus narrowing to the notebook on the table and the tidal wave of implications battering your brain as you go for another flatbread. Bite, chew, have a crisis, swallow.

“Okay, so - Christ, you animal, save some for us-” Sam mutters with a smirk, swiping the basket toward himself and grabbing a piece before turning back to Scott. “-you said something about the British… somethin’ or other. Is that gonna help us out?”

You snap out of it, narrowing your eyes at Sam. With deliberate precision, you reach across the table, pluck the bread from his hand, and take an exaggerated bite, crumbs tumbling onto your t-shirt.

“Really mature,” he deadpans, leaning back and folding his arms. Then, quick as a flash, he ducks forward, snatching the bread right out of your hand and biting it, his eyes daring you to try him. Cute.

Scott, entirely unfazed, leans casually over your shoulder to snag a piece too, flashing a grin. “Stress eating’s contagious - anyway, yes,” he says, waving his half-eaten bread for emphasis. “British aristocrats. They were…” He glances back to his notes, chewing. “Funding parts of the Hejaz railway's construction, alongside donors from Transjordanian high society. This included Emaan, surprise surprise. Started out as contractual stuff, then evolved into more friendly meet-ups, which included…” He trails off, raising his eyebrows meaningfully and gesturing for one of you to finish his sentence.

Sam leans back, exhaling. “Private poker games, by any chance?”

Scott points at him, snapping his fingers. “Bingo.”

Your pulse quickens, the conversation suddenly feeling like it’s moving faster than your brain can keep up. You grip the edge of the table, the wood pressing into your palms as your thoughts churn.

Oof.

Even thinking that name is making your head spin.

You don’t dare say his name out loud. Keep your elbows and sudden minor aneurysms off the table, please.

But Sam’s head snaps toward you, his knee knocking into yours under the table again. The touch is fleeting, but it sends a jolt through you, steadying the swirl of thoughts in your head, just for a few glorious seconds. He’s reading into you, and you know immediately he’s already made the same connection.

“William Campbell.”

The name hits like someone’s struck a gong right beside your ears, and the sharp pain behind your eyes flares into something molten. You force yourself to nod, your throat tightening as you push the feeling down.

You nod, your throat working as you force the uneasy feeling down along with your last mouthful of bread. “Makes sense. Name’s… British enough, and the timing tracks. If he was gambling big then-”

The pressure in your temple spikes, your breath hitching for just a second. You press your tongue against your teeth, willing yourself not to wince. Not here.

“-whatever he won could’ve driven Emaan to madness.” Scott cuts in, though you’re grateful for the quick removal of attention from you. His fingers drum against the table, a rhythmic counterpoint to the chaos in your head. You tune in to it as best you can. “Thus, inheritance. No?”

“So, what now? We’re suggesting that he either lost it all to Campbell in one of these backroom poker games, or passed it down to this mystery child?” Your voice wavers despite your effort to keep it steady.

“Both are possibilities,” Scott says, watching you closely. “If William was as ambitious as his investments in that ledger suggest, he wouldn’t have just walked away after winning himself a few bucks.”

You feel horrendous. And now Scott’s looking at you, waiting for a response.

Sam taps a finger on the table as he chews on his lip in thought. “Campbell’s a name we can dig into now. The kid? That’s a needle in a haystack. Undocumented - Dead? Lived after Emaan? Decades removed from anything solid. Feels like a waste of time that we might not have the luxury of any more.”

Scott nods reluctantly. His eyes stay locked on you, and for a second, you wonder if he’s caught the way you’re gripping the table or the faint tremor in your hands. The thrum at your temples fucking kills, and you feel like chucking up every crumb of the bread you’ve wolfed down.

“So, Campbell first. But if anything about that kid pops up - anything - we follow it. Agreed?”

Scott nods again, finally turning back to Sam, more sure this time. “Agreed.”

It takes you a beat too long to respond, and when you do, your voice comes out thin. You’re too focused on the dull tingling in the bridge of your nose. “Mm. Agreed.”

You shift in your seat, slipping your napkin up to your face with what you hope passes as casual nonchalance.

It’s fine. Just a headache. Just stress. Just another imminent nosebleed and pounding headache in the midst of another very Sadir-heavy conversation.

Scott leans back, satisfied, flipping his notebook shut with a snap, exchanging it for the menu. Sam reaches for his glass, his movements on edge, and slightly distracted.

Neither of them notices the blood staining your napkin as you pull it away a little.

You press it harder against your nose and swallow the creeping dread signalling that something’s very, very off with you. And now, this whole bloody thing has become three times more convoluted.

look, when i said slow burn i meant slow.

#uncharted #sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #tsi

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lunajay33 · 3 days ago

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Protect Me

•🤎🪵🌲🪨•

Summary: Being the youngest was hard especially being a girl, Sam and Dean always tried to protect you but on one hunt the monster takes you and the after math is bad, so they have to call in John

Pairing: Sam Winchester x sister, Dean Winchester x sister, John Winchester x daughter

•Masterlist•

Being the youngest was hard especially being a girl in this family work, I’m only a year younger than Sam but still I felt like a baby compared to them, when Sam went off to school it was just Dean and me and dad took it hard especially on me, he pushed me to work harder all the time and the pressure became overwhelming

Well now he’s missing and it’s just me and my brothers, driving down the interstate to a new mission, this one was a bit out of my league, vampires, they’re strong and I don’t have as much experience with them as Sam and Dean

“Hey you okay back there, you’re pretty quiet” Dean asks as he looks through the rearview mirror

“Oh yeah just nervous”

“Hey we’ll be there the whole time, nothings going to happen to you sis” Sam smiles as he turns back to me

“Do you think we’ll find dad soon?”

“I don’t know kid, soon I hope”

After a bit more driving we made it to the motel and it was time to do some digging on these vampires as Dean came back with take out for supper

“Can I ask you guys something?” I sigh closing a historic book of the town

“Sure what’s up kid” Dean asks as he chows down on a burger

“Do you think dad left because of me?” They both stopped and gave me their full attention

“Why would you say that?” Sam asks giving me his puppy expression

“Well I’m not as good as Dean and he’s been getting more and more angry with me every mission, maybe he just didn’t wanna deal with me anymore, maybe he finally realized I’m just a burden” my bottom lip trembled finally letting out the feelings I’ve been holding in

“Are you nuts? Dad was only being hard because he wanted to make sure you were safe he loves you”

“Yeah you’re his daughter and he’d never leave us like this because of a few mistakes, don’t worry your little head” Sam reach over the table squeezing my shoulder

“Alright” I sigh going back to reading

•

The next day we gathered our supplies and were off to find them finding their small nest was camped out somewhere in the woods, we got out of the impala on a dirt road, getting our weapons ready

“Okay make sure you stay alert, watch eachothers back” Dean states and we start out into the darkening woods

My heart was beating so fast that’s all I could hear, walking behind Dean with Sam behind me, when a cry comes from up ahead and we’re sprinting towards it carefully but not quiet enough

I feel myself being thrown across the damp forest floor until a tree smashed against my back and I’m crumbling on the ground in pain

“Y/N!” Dean and Sam scream as they run towards me but they stop when I’m pulled up from behind by my throat my feet dangling above the ground

“Dean” I gasp as the air burns in my lungs and my vision blurs

“You leave us alone and leave town” the vampire states

“Oh not a chance we’re gonna kill every single one of you” that only angered it as it took my arm and effortlessly snapped it like a twig, I scream wailing in pain

“I won’t ask again”

“Fine fine we’ll go, just stop hurting her” Sam called out desperate

“If you come back again, she’s dead” the vampire hissed before throwing me to my brothers feet and it was gone

My arm felt like it’s been set on fire, my throat hurt so much I could barely breath, my back felt like a thousand knives had been ripping me open

I whine in pain as Sam picks me up, crying into his chest as they run back to the car frantic

“Just hold on we’re going to the hospital you’ll be fine” Sam says as he gently lays me in his lap in the back of the car as Dean puts his foot pedal to the metal driving so fast it was almost nauseating

The pain was all consuming I just want to close my eyes

“Hey you gotta stay awake” Sam says shaking me gently but the darkness took me and I was out

•

The beeping woke me up, opening my eyes to a dimly lit room, the only light coming from the monitor and the hallway

I try to sit up but gasp from the pain, noticing my arm in a cast and a brace around my neck, immediately Sam and Dean woke up from where they were sat in the chairs

“Hey you’re awake how do you feel?” Dean asks as Sam pushes my hair back

I open my mouth trying to answer but nothing comes out except a whine, my throat felt like a machete had been sliced through it as we would a vampire

“Can you talk?” Sam asks worried

I try again but nothing, I shake my head defeated and scared, scared they see I really am useless and they’ll leave me behind, the anxiety is all consuming and I know they can tell I’m upset

“Come on let’s get you back to the motel, just be gentle” they helped me sit up slowly placing me in the wheelchair and wheeling me out to the impala

When we get back to the motel I hobble over to the bathroom my back on fire as I slowly take off the neck brace, revealing the black and blue that covered the entirety of my throat , my eyes red from the burst blood vessels, lifting my shirt I turn seeing my back in the same condition also covered in cuts

“Oh sis, I’m so sorry” Sam came in seeing everything, I pull my shirt back down and make my way over to my bed Dean helping me lay down

“Can we get you anything? I’ll go out and get your favorite food” I reach out and grip his necklace and he knew what I meant he sighed and nodded, we all knew it probably wouldn’t work he hasn’t been answering calls so why would he this time

Dean picked up his phone and called I could faintly hear the voice mail if grown accustom to

“Dad it’s y/n she’s really hurt, she needs you, please if you get this this would be the time to show up” he closed his phone and sat next to me rubbing my leg

“It’ll be okay, you’ve still got us Angel” I nodded before drifting off to sleep again

My dreams are consumed by every hunting mistake I’ve made, everytime dad was mad at me, everytime I let them all down I wake up with a gasp again when I hear the front door slam open, I slowly sit up feeling my shirt rid up and that’s when I hear him, the voice I’ve missed so much

“Oh my baby girl” he comes around the bed and kneels infront of me, taking in my horrific beat up body

“The vampire it got a hold of her before we even saw it” Sam said

“I…..” that’s all I could get out before I was aching with pain keeling over as the waves of pain rolled over me

He took my shoulders and held me close

“This is why I’ve always been so hard on you, cause see you like this kills me, I promised your mother I’d never let anything bad happen to you” he sighed

At least they were all here now

“Maybe she needs to take a break for a while” Dean intervened

“Yeah and I’m not leaving till your better” I nodded feeling a little more relieved finally having my family back together

#supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #john winchester x daughter #john winchester fluff #john winchester imagine

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undercvrfan444 · 1 day ago

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Description! Mafia leader Satoru who loves his little doll but can’t let her attitude go unchecked.

Authors note! I’m thinking of elaborating on this drabble and making a fic. Dividers from @thecutestgrotto and @k1nzer

Reader who had been giving Satoru attitude all day and him knowing it’s because she hasn’t been taken care of. Any other person that snapped or bit at him the way she did would have been dead long ago.

You were sitting on the couch watching tv as Satoru sauntered in behind you. Gently he let one of his big hands run up your neck as he pushed your head back so you made eye contact with him.

“Hi doll, feeling better?” His words were low and teasing but held a bit of uncertainty to them. It sent chills down your spine and heat straight between your legs hearing him like this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is all the you respond with.

Satoru clicks his tongue at you and bends down in your ear, hand tightening ever so gently over your throat. His long slender fingers were cold against your burning skin and it drove you mad.

“Oh I think you know very well doll.” His teeth grazed your throat, like he’d pounce on you any second. “You’ve been so mean to me baby. So imagine my surprise when I feel like i’ve done nothing but keep you safe and warm.”

Your chest heaved under the thin material of your shirt. Blood rushed to your ears in anticipation, knowing damn well you’d get what you wanted deserve for being so hateful all day. Hushed whimpers leave your lips when he removes his hand from your neck and stands up, coming to sit beside you.

Before you can take this chance to crawl into his lap he’s already two steps ahead of you. In a flash you’re pulled softly into his chest unable to move. As Satoru talks his thick chest rumbles. He’s so much larger than you without all the extra muscle he has, but you can’t deny it’s a turn on to feel how hard and ridged his body is while he envelopes you.

“Listen please, doll. Be a good girl f’me and take yer pants off. Okay?”

The quiet yet direct tone Satoru takes with you rings in your ears. It’s not like him to let bad behavior slip past without being punished…and he fucking feasted on the fear that exuded off of you. In compliance with his orders you slip out of the pants you had on leaving you in the skimpiest panties you could have owned.

“Oh fuck.” It was a low groan you didn’t know it you even heard right. His fingers were slow to caress you, teasing so nicely you almost regretted your actions today. Almost. “Did you have this planned doll? You wore those slutty little panties because you knew I’d do something about you being mean to me all day?”

Satoru was on his best behavior right now and you knew that. His words were sugar coated; not at all what you expected. It thrilled you beyond belief!

The man was like a storm at sea. So beautiful from a distance while still being able to settle fear deep in your chest. His cologne filled your nose making your head buzz instantly. A few seconds passed before you mustered up a few words.

“N-no. I just…I-“

“Ah ah. No no no, none of that stuttering mess.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Talk to me like the big girl you are. We both know you have a reason behind your actions and sputtering like a baby won’t save you right now.”

Without a warning Satoru ripped the thin fabric of your panties off of you. Red, stinging marks were left in wake of the material earning a squeal from you. “I-I’m sorry! Satoru I’m sorry!” Your words were rushed as you felt his fingers press between your slick folds.

“I just wanted some attention! I shouldn’t have been mean I know. I know!” A pained squeal erupts from your lips when he pushed two thick fingers past your entrance, stretching you so painfully good.

“Oh I know you’re sorry sweetheart, but unfortunately you’re still going to have to be punished. My men would think I started going soft if I didn’t work this attitude out of you.”

His fingers are brutal with how rough he bullies your pussy. Squelching and sloshing noises fill the room while you push on his wrist. Searing pain mixes with tingling pleasure that leaves you wanting more of his attention.

*Ring!* *Ring!* *Ring!*

both of you stop moving for a second. Gojo grins behind you, retrieving his phone from his back pocket while giving you a “you gonna be quiet?” look.

“Hello?” His voice was smooth as it spoke to whoever was on the other side of the phone. His fingers however…

Both of your hands clamp over your mouth to keep the pitiful whines from being too loud. His fingers pulled out of your pussy up until he was barely touching you before slamming into the soft tissue. Curling his fingers, he continued to bully your cunt while talking over the phone.

The mix of his cologne filling your senses, fingers stuffing you so deliciously full, and the intriguing feeling of possibly being heard coaxed your orgasm to build. The warm feeling in your tummy gathers quickly at the feeling of being manhandled.

Satoru’s fingers were *thick.* Thick and rough skin that rubbed against you so perfectly it felt like you were drunk. You don’t know why he had this effect on you, but it was welcomed with open arms. He could talk to your body like no other man had ever been able to.

“Sa-ah-toru! g’na cum…please!” The soft words are muffled under your hands. A sinister grin crossed Satoru’s face as he sits the phone beside him on the couch, clamping his own hand down onto your smaller hand and pushing his fingers deeper inside you.

A few seconds later and you’re coming undone on his fingers. Any screams or cries you tried to get out are stopped by his tight grip on your face. It’s hard to stay quiet as drool slips down your chin, thighs clamping tightly on his hand while you twitch.

Carefully his teeth nick your ear as he presses soothing kisses into the soft skin. “Shh be quiet or else you might get us in trouble doll.”

Your chest jumped as you took in ragged breaths. It didn’t take long for you to sink into his chest, nuzzling back against his shoulder and feeling his fingers scissor softly inside you. It wasn’t anything to give you real pleasure but just enough to keep that warm feeling in your tummy enjoyable.

You hadn’t even realized Satoru’s phone call ended until he pulled your hand away from your face easily. The red hue on your cheeks made him smile and pepper little kisses around your face.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” A quiet giggle fills your ears.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #mafia #mafia au #mafia gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo drabbles

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