#nighty squared

[nightunite]

seals for pookie (Insta link), they’re very good at rollin’ and tumblin’

Kyle is the one on the far left for sure, golden boy that one

[nightunite]

it's true, I've had several slide in my DMs/comments/inbox

what I think will happen if I message my mutuals

[seattlesellie]

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

“Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling” she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

[toxicanonymity]

i need more raider joel more than i need air in my lungs

Night air.

3500 words, raider!Joel x f!reader | ✨gif

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

reader-curated playlist | sweet pea (smut songs)

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. . . He makes room for you, but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t.  "When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask instead.

SUMMARY: Joel brutalizes a bad guy, gives it to you hard, then works on something for you and gives it to you slow. His POV is revealing. WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates, ANGST, Joel's trauma, overkill violence, dubcon (stockholm syndrome) unsafe P in V x2 (hard then soft), dark fluff, f masturbation, somnophilia, staying inside, NO Y/N. A/N: ty @milla-frenchy for Qs & recs 🖤

—--- JOEL——

Yeah, Joel killed two of his own men, and they had it coming.  He caught them red handed on their way into your room in the stash house. It still makes his blood boil to think about. If they hadn’t walked into that room talking about you like a piece of meat, those two men would be alive. Joel would do it again in a heartbeat.  

He’s not surprised when the others are shaken, but if they’re good men, they have nothing to worry about.  When things remain tense longer than he expects, Joel rounds them up for a group meeting. He puts you in the usual room with his trusted guard Carter posted at the door.  The meeting becomes heated. 

“No one’s gonna be left at this rate,” one man barks.  “They ain’t gonna say it,” he gestures behind him to the other men, “but I will. She shouldn’t be here.” 

Joel’s voice raises with his blood pressure. He asks, “What’d you say to me, Harold?" as he stands up. 

Louder, maybe loud enough for you to hear, Harold repeats, “She shouldn’t be here.  It’s bound to happen.” Bound to happen? These low-lifes are bound to put their hands on Joel Miller’s girl? Joel can feel the beat of his rage in his veins. All his muscles tense. 

He takes a deep breath, exhales sharply, then says matter-of-factly, “I’ll show ya what else is bound to happen.” 

Joel picks up his rifle. 

"Yeah, kill me," Harold chides. "Kill us all."

Joel shakes his head no. His voice is deep and flat.  "Not until ya beg me to." Now he’s gotta make an example out of someone. 

Joel forces Harold outside, then puts his rifle behind his back and lets Harold take a swing at him, just for fun.  When Joel gets this wound up, he needs to feel something. After getting clocked square in the jaw, Joel beats him until he’s barely conscious. Then, Joel hoists Harold, who is not a light man, and impales him on a sharp, severed fence post. 

Joel puts his rifle around front again, leaving Harold alive but doomed, and heads back toward the house.  He’s almost to the door when Harold manages to groan through his gurgles.  Joel turns around, calmly raises his rifle, shoots him in the head, then keeps walking. He goes back inside, chest heaving, wiping blood splatter off his face with his wrist. The rest of them are still inside. No one came to Harold's defense or ran. Joel stares down the men, and based on the faces he sees, he’s not worried about any of them.  

“Rest of ya got nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he reassures them. “long as ya leave her ‘lone.” 

The men nod. Joel thinks about adding, and I’m not the only one you’ve gotta worry about, tempted to warn them that you know your way around a pistol and can handle yourself. One bullet, right between the eyes of that fucker. Joel thinks about it all the time. There’s something about his little sweet pea being a badass. And thank god, because he almost lost you. 

“Now back to business.” 

They discuss the rival crew they think sent two guys to Joel’s trailer, only for Joel and you to kill them. Joel doesn't think the crew is stupid enough to cause any more trouble, but agrees someone has to keep watch Just in case. 

Joel almost reminds his men that he holds all the smuggling routes and contacts, just in case they’re concerned enough to pull something.  But he doesn't need to say it. He dismisses them and grabs a duffle bag before collecting you from Carter. Carter asks what to do with Harold, and Joel says leave him for a while.

–

When the two of you get back to his trailer, Joel is ready to fuck out his anger. He sees himself in the mirror, chest heaving, veins about to pop, blood splatter on his hairline. God damnit, Harold. Joel  showers because he doesn’t want any part of Harold getting close to you. Not even his blood. 

You’re in the kitchen getting a glass of water when Joel walks out of the bathroom in just a towel.  He crosses the kitchen, drops the towel, and pins you against the counter, pressing his hardness against your ass. He backs up enough to scrunch up your dress and growls, "good girl," when he finds you panty-less and wet. You knew. You were ready for it. 

He grunts as he shoves himself into you, and he gives it to you good. "No one’s," he thrusts, "gonna," he grunts "touch ya." He plunges into you twice more, breathing heavily, then adds, “but me.” The power of his hips sends you to your toes with each thrust. He wraps an arm around you to hold you steady and watches over your shoulder as your tits jiggle with each punch of his hips. It doesn’t take you long to come.  Then he curls his hands under your arms to hold your shoulders down from the front and begins to pulse with a low groan. He leans his head against yours and cradles it from the other side as he catches his breath, then asks, “you good?”

You nod, “mm-hmm,” and he pulls out, feeling better. 

“Good.” 

-

In the following days, things settle down in Joel’s group and get back to normal. The rival crew doesn't show up.

—--

One night, Joel leaves you inside the trailer while he sits out by the fire, as he often does.  What you don't know is that he's not just sitting, drinking, and thinking.  He’s working on something.  He’s been making things for you. He hasn’t given you anything because nothing’s good enough, and it’s probably not going to get any better, but he keeps doing it.  Sometimes he feels a little silly, but they’re things that will help both of you.  Practical things. 

He made a thigh holster for your gun. There was an old one without the straps in the weapons cache which is just a small room of chaos in the stash house, no telling what else is in there.  He used part of a belt for the top strap and some black ribbon on the bottom, for the time being.  It would be better than nothing, but he hasn't given it to you in case it wouldn’t work. Maybe it doesn't matter. As the weather changes, you'll probably need new clothes, anyway. Maybe even pants, he internally grumbles. Sweaters, too, so your chest won’t be exposed. 

Tonight, Joel has another strap of leather with him, one that wasn't right for the holster. He also has a pot of water and a steel nail with a makeshift handle so he doesn’t burn himself. He heats up the tool and uses the hot nail head to emboss the strap with bold letters. He’s been working on it all week, and he’s only on ‘E.’ It’ll be first name only at this rate. You might not wanna wear it anyway, but it’s for your own good.  

Joel’s almost lost you twice now. If there’s anything he can do to make someone think twice about touching or taking you, he’ll do it. Because Jackson, may he burn in hell, was right. Joel can’t have his eyes on you every single second. He's told you before: you tell’em you belong to Joel Miller. They’ll back right off when they hear it.  But it doesn’t hurt for them to see it, too. And of course Joel wouldn't mind seeing it himself. 

Joel’s fingers are too big for work this small.  He accidentally makes the vertical line of the E slanted. Ah hell, this whole thing is no good anyway. You may never see it at this rate. But it feels good working with his hands, especially on something he thinks could help keep you safe and keep you his. You're a good girl, his good girl. 

He should be thinking strategy, what’s going to happen with these warring crews, but that’s just not where his head’s at.   

—--- YOU 🌸🫛—-----

You listen to the fire crackle and pop, longing for Joel to come to bed, longing for him to hold you, and more.  He seems to stay outside longer than usual. When he adds a new log to the fire, you get impatient and decide to go out. You put on your shoes and go to the door, pushing it open just an inch. The rail to the stairs is blocking your view, but he's looking down at something. His jaw clenches in the firelight and he raises his eyebrows as he looks up.  You slowly open the door, stepping out onto the stairs in your nightie.  He puts something down on the ground, out of view.  

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie.  As you approach, he takes a swig of whiskey and puts the flask down.  His eyes are dark as he watches the flames.  He makes room for you but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t. 

"When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask. 

His brows knit as he looks at you. For a few seconds, he concentrates on picking lint off the flannel and smoothing your nightgown. 

“I dunno, sweet pea. Got some stuff to figure out.”  

“Can I help?”

He shakes his head no. You put your arms around his neck and rest your cheek against his shoulder. Then you slowly roll your face against him so your lips touch his warm skin and your nose rests on top of his shoulder muscle.  You close your eyes and stay like that for a moment.  He doesn’t stop you. Then you dare to press your lips ever so slightly into his skin before pulling your face back to look at him, your lips disconnecting with a barely perceptible smack. Joel’s still looking at the fire, but he allows himself a subtle smile as he exhales a silent laugh, then cradles your head.  “Go to bed, sweet pea.” He kisses your temple. “I’ll be there in a li’l bit.” 

You take the flannel off and get in bed, still smelling like the fire. You think of getting naked, eager to feel Joel however he wants you. But maybe he likes undressing you, and it’s chillier than normal, too.  You lay under the covers getting wet and tingly thinking about what he'll do when he comes to bed.  

The fire is still blazing.  There’s no sign of him putting it out.  It doesn't seem like he's coming in soon, but you're too turned on to just go to sleep. You close your eyes, recalling the feeling of Joel’s warm skin on your lips by the fire.  The way his eyes sparkled. The way he always opens his arms for you to get in his lap–that seat is always yours whenever you want it. 

You think about how handsome he is. Even, or especially when he’s looking rough.  All dirty and beat up when he got home that one night, muscles pumped up. His sexy stitches. You play a montage in your head of all the times you’ve heard him yell, seen him stomp around ordering guys to do this or that. How fiercely he protects you. Your lip creeps under your teeth and you close your eyes. 

All the way turned on, you slide your hand down between your legs and imagine him walking in and ravaging you.  You recall how urgently he fucked you at the kitchen table after he thought you almost died.  You recall the time he fucked you naked in missionary and and marked your neck.  You try to visualize the look in his eyes.

And then, when you’re just about to come, you remember that one morning. Those few seconds you kissed, when he kissed you back. He had pulled you into him before he knew what he was doing. You still savor that fleeting moment he was grinding against you, his plush lips locked with yours. You can practically feel it.  And that’s enough to put you over the edge. You turn your head into the pillow and brace for your orgasm. 

—----- JOEL —------

You must think Joel can't hear your pretty little sounds when you touch yourself, but over the crackling of the fire he could swear he hears you moan into a pillow. His nose can't help but twitch into a little smile. He lets the fire die as he finishes the 'E',  then he comes inside and washes off the smoke in the shower. By the time he gets in bed, you're asleep on your back with your left arm on your chest. 

He carefully gets into the bed, spreading his weight out to not jostle the mattress. He's to your left, lying on his side, facing you. You’re so pretty and peaceful with your eyes closed and your sweet lips just slightly parted. An urge has been growing in his chest. He’s tried to push it away, but it's only grown, and he's afraid he can’t stop it happening. 

He can’t bring himself to do it when you’re awake. He can’t let himself see how happy it makes you. The loss feels inevitable, and it gets closer and closer.  The panic he felt when FEDRA had you on the ground.  The devastation when it sounded like you were shot outside his own trailer. It gets worse every time. And last time, there was something new. Two losses flashed before his eyes.  The loss of you (in the present and future), and the loss of what could have been–at least for a while, when he had the chance. The worst part is, he doesn't know which would hurt more.  

His eyes fall on your mouth again. 

If he does it now, it won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. If he does it now, maybe this urge will stop pulling at him every time you’re close.  And then he can tell himself it never happened. Yeah, if he does it now, it can be like it never happened. Like he never let himself get that close, never gave you hope that he could be anything more than the terrible man he is. 

His lip twitches as he watches you sleep.  Then his breathing syncs with yours, and for a moment, everything fades away but you and him and the physical need that's tugging at him.  

Joel leans over you, careful not to wake you, and he hovers over your pretty face. It's happening. His heart races as his face drifts toward yours, drawn to you like a magnet. 

He closes his eyes, presses his lips gently into yours, and something rushes through his blood to every part of his body.  Fuck.  He's instantly soothed. With your lips still locked, he takes one breath through his nose then pulls away. He takes a deep breath, expecting the buzz to fade, expecting to hate himself. But you're so pretty and your lips were so soft. He almost chokes on his own saliva.  He's quickly gotten hard.

Still fast asleep, you sigh and your nose twitches. You hum the prettiest little "mm," and roll over on your right, facing away from him like you normally sleep. 

He pinches his eyes shut tight. He has to have you. 

–

Joel curls himself around you, inhales your hair, and cups your breast. He presses his cock against you, hardening to full strength by now.  He lets out a deep but quiet, "Mmm," not enough to wake you up. The exposed skin of your back and shoulder is so inviting, he's salivating. His arm slides from your breast down your nightie to your mound and you sigh. He lifts his head to see if you're awake as he aimlessly caresses you over your nightie. Your brow furrows with his light touch. Aw, sweet pea, he thinks to himself. You're just so cute. He presses a gentle kiss into your neck where it meets your shoulder, and he begins to ghost your clit through the fabric. 

You sigh again, but still don't seem to wake up yet. He presses your mound so your hips tilt for him, and he pulls up the nightgown. He tests you with a finger and finds you wet but pulls back and pauses to add saliva to his tip.  He teases your entrance with his cock, and you sigh "Mmm, Joel," as you begin to stir awake. He pushes the curve of his tip just slightly inside, then holds your breast. 

He asks, “You 'wake?” 

“Mmm,” you answer weakly. 

"wake you up?" His cock prods at your tight, wet entrance, pushing in a little further.. He's itching to be inside you, but he's taking his time, captivated by your peacefulness. 

Your spine arches and you push back on him, taking another inch of his cock in with a moan as you stir awake. "Joel,” you sigh. 

He presses his lips into your neck and lets them linger.  You ask, "are you awake?" 

"Mm-hmm," he answers, his voice deep and gravely.  He groans softly as he pushes his cock into you. He takes a deep breath as your insides make room for him. It dawns on him that he's never taken the time to savor the moment your bodies are joined, but shit, it feels good. He didn't know it could feel so good like this. He’s feeling every groove of you in slow motion. Each centimeter of you greets him with a tight, warm hug.  You push back on him with a moan, bringing your bodies together. 

Oh, sweet pea. You want it so bad, and you take it so good.

—---YOU 🌸🫛—---

Joel’s cock spreads you apart and he buries his length in you slowly at first, palming your breasts. He pauses, all the way inside you, and removes your nightie so your naked bodies are flush. It feels like a dream. The way he kissed your shoulder, the way he’s fucking you right now with his whole body cradling yours, each thrust so deliberate, you can’t help but still wonder if he’s truly awake. If you're truly awake. He grunts softly each time he bottoms out. His sighs and moans are deep and gravely. 

“Sweet pea,” he whispers against your neck, “ohhhh, you — ohh, you take it so good, baby.” His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs. He whispers in your ear,  "God DAMN, youfeelsogood,” he inhales sharply, then sighs your name.  Your nipples harden and you get goosebumps. 

“Joel,” you whimper at his fingers on your clit.  The fullness of his cock was enough, and the addition of his hand has you twitching already.  

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers, and his voice is so soothing, you relax again. He slows down his pace, his length sliding snugly into your warmth slow enough to feel the drag of his tip inside you. He touches your clit and you whimper again. He adjusts his hand to touch it less directly, pulsing his flattened fingers.  That’s what you need. You moan. 

“Good girl.” 

You wanna ask him again if he’s really awake, but you don’t want to break the spell. You let the silence linger, peppered with moans and sighs from each of you. You’d love for this to last forever. You love every way he gives it to you, but the newness of this is something to savor. After a few minutes, sweat begins to bead and run between your bodies.  You’re both breathing heavily. He gropes at your breasts and the entire front of your body, like he can’t get you close enough. His breathing gets ragged.  You memorize the feel of his cock dragging thick and slow inside you.  Then he adds his hand again. His thrusts become more powerful.  “Come for me, I want you to– nnngh.” 

“Joel,” you whine. 

‘Ohh,” he moans. 

“Joel, I’m–”

“Go ‘head, baby—ugghh—-you can do it”

Your upper back presses into his chest.  He groans and holds you tight as you convulse against him and choke his cock with your climax. “Ohhhh, baby, mmmm.” He bottoms out and pulses inside you as you’re still coming.  He sighs "ohhh," as he fills you up with his warm release. Your body hugs him more with every pulse of his cock.  

When you’re both finished coming, your bodies are still joined. You relish the fullness of him inside you.  You expect him to pull out any minute, but his breathing regulates with yours. 

At some point, Joel's breath stutters abruptly, and you realize he's fallen asleep like this. Holding you close, body curled around you, cock gradually softening inside you. It isn't long until you drift off, too. 

-

Smut continues here: asleep inside

Next major chapter: hunger

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Please consider commenting or reblogging to show raider Joel your love, even if this post is old. 💖 Love you guys. I love your passion for him. Your engagement motivates me. <333

Friendly reminder that there will be no pregnancy in this fic, Joel was snipped pre outbreak. 

----

@toxicfics for notifications, make sure your phone is set to enable push notifications from tumblr. Some of my fics are pretty dark!

⚠️ Since so many people are saying tags aren't working, I may discontinue the tag list soon, sorry ⚠️

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A crack of thunder wakes you. You catch a scream in your hand as lightning flashes. The storm outside mirrors the chaos of your life. 

That same tension crushes you. Waiting, waiting, waiting. You almost think it's worse that whatever Bucky plans to do. 

Your breath evens out and you lay back. You check the time on your phone. Only another house before you need to get up and get going. There's almost no point in trying to get back to sleep. 

Laying awake in bed isn't new. Those last few days have seen you restless only to be exhausted at your desk. Bucky’s infiltrated every part of your life even while absent. Your sleep, your job, your few hours to yourself, his threats make all of it fraught.  

You sit up and dig the heels of your hands into your eyes. You're not ready to be awake. You could take a sick day but for what? To be alone and scared? 

"I was gonna draw this out, doll, but I'm getting bored." 

You're almost relieved to hear Bucky's voice.  

Lightning flashes and illuminates his figure. You might think you're having a nightmare but it's all too real. 

"We can still talk this out. I never meant to hurt you--" 

"I'm done talking. Done waiting. Done wasting time." He fills the doorway. "I've been around too long for that." 

You push your shoulders back and sit up, "what do you want?" 

The window flashes again. He looks different. His eyes are like pits and his square jaw is set. The shadows make him a stranger.

He doesn't answer. He walks forward and you look at him. You're trapped by more than his physical barrier, your snared in the fear of that moment. His vibranium fingers trace the edge of your nightie and follow the strap over your shoulder. His other hand tugs on the other other side and he pulls the silk and lets it go so the fabric slumps below your chest. 

You shiver and his hand frames your throat. He pushes you flat and bends over you. He parts your knees with his. 

“Bucky...” you gulp. 

He smothers your mouth with his. Time thaws and suddenly flurries around you. It all happens so fast. 

His lips on yours, his hands all over you, the silk slipping down your body, the bed jostling as he forces you further up. The smell of his sweat, the taste of him, the weight of him over you suffocates you. He takes control with precision, dissembling you a caress and a nip at a time. 

He fondles your chest as his naked flesh sears into yours. His fingers crawl down and find that part of you that makes you wine. His breath clouds in the crook of your neck and he bits down on the muscle of your shoulder. 

He curls his fingers into you and grows. He rocks his hand, pressing against your clit as he twines you around his touch. You whimper and babble. It feels good. Even as your heart pumps with horror and your mind tells you it’s wrong.  

You told him it’s over. You told him no. You tried, you tried, you tried. You can’t stop him. You were stupid to think you ever could. 

Your heartbeat competes with the thunder crashing outside as it pounds in your ears. All those times he taunted you about how he could hear, about how he could feel your blood coursing, and sense your temperature. He told you then that he could pull you apart just like this. 

He pushes against his knuckles, spreading them as he forces his tip inside of you. You yelp as her stretches you around him. He keeps his fingers deep as he tilts his hips. He invades you completely as his teeth pinch your skin. 

He huffs as he thrusts. He works himself to a steady tempo. His grunts are stunted as he holds them back. He fucks you in almost a mechanical rhythm. He is a soldier on a mission. His victory is close. 

You writhe and tangle your fingers in his dark hair. You yank but he doesn’t react. Your other hand shoves his shoulder but he remains. 

You arch your back and let out a yawling moan. You cum around him, even as it hurts, even as your adrenaline floods through you, even as your instincts scream. Your orgasm is your white flag. You give up. You can’t fight anymore. 

He is relentless. He drags his fingers free, a trail of your slickness left along your pelvis, and he grips your hip. He ruts into you, harder and harder, flesh slapping. He flattens you against the mattress and lifts his head.  

He puts his hand on your forehead and pins your head down. He leans in and nibbles on your lower lip with a growl. His body tenses as his bicep bulges against you. The storm continues to flicker outside, limning his beastly figure as he rolls over you like thunder. 

He spasms and you feel him spill inside of you. He fucks you until his cum leaks out around him, and even past that. He doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. He just keeps going and going and going... 

[nightunite]

Oh I have been tagged...lessee

tag time~ @beloveds-embrace @itsa-me-lily @girl-lostconnection

fuck it. tag game

make a poll where the options are two truths and one lie and have your followers guess the lie

I’ll go first

npt: @starkissed-mars @l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft @garden-of-runar @loozerboykisser @aesthetic-writer18 + anyone else who wants to <3

[fairytsuk1]

Cold heartily believe that quackity will be the sweetest dad ever…however when he needs to he’ll will yell but not scary yell like that one scene in rio where Rafael yells “stop shaking him he's not a maraca.” To his kid

dad!alex headcanons <3

i definitely agree SO much, he's the sweetest dad but he isn't afraid to maintain his place as not letting shit slide. he is very much tuned into you and the kids, coming up to hug you from behind as your daughter, itzel, happily eats cereal, "ya, debes limpiar tu tazón. ¿me oyes?"

"siii, papa," she says, grinning at him with her eyes scrunching. "¡quiero jugar Minecraft contigo después de escuela!"

you smile at her, sliding over some fresh fruit. it's domestic and sweet. alex can't help but watch how your daughter wipes her hair out of her face so messily that he swears he's seeing his reflection in the mirror. he squeezes you tighter, "por supuesto, bajita."

while alex can be so absolutely sweet, he doesn't tolerate bullshit, like I said. maybe it's getting late, alex is sleepy and cleaning up while you handle bath time. it's quiet. it's... serene, too serene. alex hears you sigh, and your daughter whines. ah, there it is. by the time he's made his way over, it's already escalated into a full-blown tantrum.

your husband looks over at you, and you just look so worn. itzel is huffing, not wanting the pajamas you'd selected, and you're trying so hard to be patient, "do you want a few minutes to calm down?"

"no! i want my duck jammies," she whines, fighting your arms as you try to wrap her in a comforting embrace. "you're so stupid!"

"hey! itzel," he immediately squats down and squares her shoulders. "mírame, toma una respira. no, no te vayas, te vas a pararse aquí y tomar un minuto para relajarte."

itzel sniffles with her mouth opening in protest; alex only has to look at her as he crosses his arms before she quiets down. itzel takes shaky breaths, and her eyes guiltily flit back from you to him.

"tu mama te ama muchisimo, mija. this behavior is unacceptable. your pajamas are dirty right now, so you're wearing your nightie. there's nothing we can do," he says simply.

itzel starts to calm down bit by bit, "no quiero oír un insulto hablado a tu mamá ningún otra vez. ella es tu mamá, es importante a ti, es importante a mí."

he nods his head over to you, and itzel's face is wracked with shame. her tears well again as she turns guiltily, rushing into your arms, "mama..."

your eyes meet his, and alex only shrugs with a soft smile, inching closer to hug all of you. though his hand lingers on your waist and squeezes. alex kisses you unashamedly, which makes itzel giggle: "te amo mamá, y papá también!"

it makes your heart sing as you kiss her forehead, "I love you both too."

"mhm. and she's right, i especially love you," alex whispers into your ear.

your family may be small, and it may come with challenges, but he's never not there to remind you that he's with you. and that means through anything, he's got your back.

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 31 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you liked it. Feel free to tell me what you thought about it so I can improve because I don't feel like I write very good smut scenes.

The next chapter is Rhysand's smut and will be published on Wednesday, February 5th.

I send you lots of big kisses and thank you again for all your love. Love, ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Chapter 31

"We should get up," Cassian mumbled, stroking the hair of his sleeping soulmate who had landed in Rhysand's arms during the night.

It had been hours since all three of them had been awake while the sun was now high in the sky. But they couldn't bring themselves to leave their soulmate to get up and didn't have the heart to wake her up to take her with them while she was sleeping peacefully.

They just passed her around every hour so they could hold their soul mate close to them equally.

Rhysand, still in the same spot in the bed, turned on his side, his back to Cassian, while taking his soulmate with him. "No, we're good here." He tightened his grip a little more around Luxiana, placing his nose on the top of her head. "The world can wait."

Feeling the blonde's bare chest on his, the lord frowned as he cast a narrowed glance over his shoulder at his brothers. "Wasn't she in a nightie last night?"

Azriel on the other side of the bed smirked. He had his hands behind his head and his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Yes, but tonight she wanted cookies. I had to keep her busy while they baked."

Cassian, understanding his brother's words, gasped in offense. "You, you bastard. Without us?"

Azriel burst out laughing, "I don't regret anything, it was the best sex of my entire life."

A bitter taste of jealousy electrocuted the other two Illyrians but at the same time, the joy their brother felt was so contagious that they couldn't help but feel happy and smile.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened with such violence that it smashed against the wall that held it.

All four of them sat up in surprise. Even Luxiana had her eyes wide open and were now fully awake.

"Amren," Rhysand cried, glaring at the fae who had just woken his soulmate again. "That's twice, there won't be a third, I warn you."

“Like you could stop me from doing anything,” Amren replied nonchalantly, not even a little intimidated. “Besides, it wasn’t my idea this time.”

Luxiana looked around. How had she ended up in Rhysand's arms? It didn't matter. She lay back down, dragging the high lord with her to wiggle in his arms while repositioning herself properly.

"It's mine!" Mor shouted at the top of her lungs as she entered the room, smiling. "You must get up!" she demanded, bending down to grab the Illyrians' clothes from the ground and throwing them in their faces. "You have things to do, duties and obligations to fulfill."

Cassian sighed loudly as he lay back down while Azriel groaned as he reluctantly got up to get dressed.

“Where is the book? I have to translate it,” Amren asked, looking around the room.

Rhysand pointed to the leather square on the bedside table before planting his face in Luxiana's neck to breathe in the scent of his soulmate deeply.

“Rhys, I said get up,” Mor demanded, grabbing the high lord by the ankle and jerking him out of bed.

He let out a sort of grunt of refusal as he struggled with all his weight to stay in his place.

Luxiana whimpered a sort of sob "Oh no, I don't want to get up."

Rhys' cousin let out a small laugh. "Oh but you can keep sleeping," she assured, "but not them. They have work to do!"

“Oh!” Luxiana said in realization. “Yessssss,” she finally cried out in joy. “I’m going to have the bed all to myself.”

She extracted herself from Rhysand's arms to pass over him and arrive between the lord and Cassian. Then she got on her knees to push the two Illyrians with her hands trying to roll them to the edge but they were too heavy. "Aren’t you ashamed?" she teased them all smiles. "Come on, get up, you have work to do."

Cassian laughed as Luxiana tried with all her might to make him move. He looked her up and down, savoring his soulmate's naked body next to him. Which, of course, awoke his erection even more - which never slept in the presence of the blonde, by the way...

Luxiana, following his gaze, realized that she was naked. She gasped in surprise, covering her breasts with her arms and squeezing her thighs.

She glared accusingly at Azriel -who was smirking- before turning her gaze back to Mor. A wide grin spread across Luxiana’s face as she turned around to stand on the bed, stopping hiding. She put one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her head. "How do you like me, Mor?" she asked, raising her eyebrows repeatedly in a perverted manner. "Please, stroke my ego. Do you find me hot?"

The three Illyrians tensed, freezing and widening their eyes at once, but Mor could see enough before they realize and react. She looked her up and down hungrily, nodding. "You're really hot."

“Luxiana!” Azriel cried sharply, running to the bed and erecting a wall of black shadow between herself and Mor.

"Mor!" Rhysand growled at the same time, leaping onto his two feet to glare at his cousin.

Cassian threw himself at Luxiana to grab her by the hips and pull her towards the bed, pinning her to the mattress in his arms but giving her a dark look.

Luxiana was dying of laughter as the army commander began to wrap her in the bed blanket like a sausage.

Rhysand walked over to his cousin and Amren, pushing them by the shoulders and getting them out of the room. "We're coming, it's okay," he growled before slamming the door in their faces.

Luxiana was still laughing, wrapped in her blanket but she was so warm and comfortable that she eventually calmed down. Her eyelids grew heavy again. "Have a nice day," she said vaguely with a big smile before falling back to sleep.

***

A few hours later, and as Luxiana had woken up alone in bed with a feeling of emptiness and coldness in her heart, realizing that she already missed the three Illyrians. She had then gotten up, showered and dressed in a pretty long dark blue dress with silver sequins.

She had braided her hair, blushing at the memory of the punishment Azriel had given her that night. Although a part of her had been dying to walk around with her hair down every day to receive the Illyrian's punishments, another part of her had been so exhausted by that night -despite the incredible final orgasm- that she wasn't ready to do it again just yet.

She went down the stairs and reached the dining room where she was surprised to see the three Illyrians around the table with serious and worried faces.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table facing an open brown wooden box in front of him and a cold, dull look on his face. Cassian sat next to him with his arms crossed and Azriel was on the other side of Rhys but standing. They all three looked up at her.

“You look like you’ve seen a dead person,” she mocked as she approached. “What is that?” She pointed at the box with her chin as she sat down next to Rhys and Az, facing Cassian.

Rhysand turned the box towards her. "These are Blood Rubies sent by Tarquin declaring us mortal enemies of his court."

Cassian gritted his teeth. "There's five of them, one for each of us. I guess they found out about the book eventually."

Luxiana burst out laughing. "Tarquin sends rubies to his enemies?" She shakes her head, pouting fondly. "He's so adorably cute, I'm dreaming."

The three Illyrians stared at her with dark looks and narrowed eyes.

Luxiana gradually lost her smile as she flicked her pupils between the three. She grimaced. "Ah yes, bad audience, my fault."

Azriel huffed, closing his eyes wearily as he grabbed the bridge of his nose. "That's not cute, that's a death threat. If we set foot in his yard or if he finds us, we're dead. We're in danger now. YOU are in danger now."

Luxiana rolled her eyes with a smile. Was that why they were so worried? They were so cute too. "Oh if you knew the number of death threats I've received or the number of places I risk being executed if I set foot there... I even think there's a price on my head in the Winter Court and that I'm public enemy number 1 in the Autumn Court. Yet, no one has ever sent me a ruby. I assure you, it's cute."

The three of them widened their eyes as their lower jaws nearly dropped. Cassian laughed, "damn, I'll never get used to it."

Luxiana smiled before reaching out for a ruby. She wanted to grab one to study it. It just seemed surreal to her to send a precious stone to his enemies. Was Tarquin so intent on showing off his wealth? She was going to grab one but Azriel grabbed her wrist to stop her as Rhys slammed the box shut with a burst of his power.

“Don’t touch them,” the spymaster ordered, releasing his hand.

“They might be trapped,” Rhys explained, pulling the box back towards him.

Luxiana's heart was beating erratically and forcefully in her chest. "Own, you're too sweet, stop," she whined, placing her palms on her face to hide her blush.

The three males laughed tenderly, but Rhysand suddenly became serious again. "Besides," he hesitated, clearing his throat and casting quick, fearful glances at his two brothers who returned them. "Cass, Az and I were wondering if you might want to stay with us a little longer," he said in a serious voice.

Azriel clenched his teeth and fists as he eyed his soulmate with apprehension and even fear. She was his. She no longer had the right to leave. Not after giving herself to him entirely. She had no right but he was so afraid that she would want to.

Cassian swallowed hard as he looked up at the ceiling. He didn't want to see this and he was forcing himself not to put his hands over his ears and prevent himself from hearing an answer that could break his heart. What would he do if she wanted to leave? He couldn't even breathe properly if she wasn't near him.

Luxiana dropped her arms to her sides, taking on a serious look. She frowned in thought. Stay? What does he mean by 'stay'? They wanted her to stay? Forever? Did she want to stay? But what about Feyre ?

Sensing his confusion, a flash of panic shot through Rhysand. "Until Amren translates the book, I mean. That way we can come up with a plan and tell Feyre everything in one go," he improvised, waving his hands around.

Cassian was tense all over. He uncrossed his arms to rub his palms on his pants. His hands were sweaty. Since when did his hands get sweaty? "We'll take good care of you," he assured her, trying to sound confident with a smirk and winking at her.

Luxiana relaxed a notch as she couldn't help but blush and smile slightly. "Oh," she simply breathed. Was she disappointed? Did she wish they'd asked her to stay longer?

Azriel's jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt as a sort of disappointment and fear washed over him. He could have trembled if he hadn't focused on tensing all his muscles. "So what do you say?" he asked in a dry voice, despite himself.

Luxiana looked down, pursing her lips to think. She shouldn't stay. She was already too attached to them but they made her feel so good. It wouldn't hurt anyone if she stayed a little longer, right? Besides, she was dying to. She raised her pupils shining with determination towards them, "If you still want me, then I'm willing to stay a little longer."

Rhysand closed his eyes, breathing an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

Cassian took a deep breath, relieved. This woman had too much impact on him.

Azriel leaned toward Luxiana, placing his index finger under her chin and holding her head up toward him. “We will always want you, Luxi. When we tell you that we are yours and you are ours, we mean it.”

Luxiana blushed even more as she smiled at the wave of pleasure that washed over her but Azriel eyed her lips and dimples. His erection woke up in his pants at the memory of what that mouth had done to him that night.

He ran his thumb over his soulmate's bottom lip, growling. He was about to say something, but Rhysand - sensing his brother's excitement - stood up and pushed him by the shoulder. "Okay, no, not now, we have things to do."

The lord took his brother's place in front of Luxiana. "Az and I have... obligations..."

"Like what?" the blonde interrupted him with a curious and innocent face.

Azriel smirked, "Things," he said mysteriously.

“Huuum,” Luxiana complained slowly, almost pouting.

Rhysand laughed as he gave in. With that face, he could tell her anything. "I have some boring high lord stuff to do and Azriel has to check on Hybern's movements with his spies. We'll be back tonight for dinner. In the meantime, you'll spend the afternoon with Cassian, is that okay?"

Luxiana nodded vigorously as she turned to the red siphons Illyrian. "What are we going to do?" she asked in a slow voice with a perverse air.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh whatever you want, sweetheart, but know that I have a preference for what you're thinking about."

"No," Rhysand stopped them authoritatively, casting a dark look at Cassian before turning him towards his soulmate. "You're going to spend the afternoon training with him. We need to gauge your fighting skills and know what you're capable of. We need to make sure you can defend yourself."

Luxiana tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Why?" Why did he want to make sure she could fight?

Rhysand looked down. "Because it's dangerous to be close to us."

Luxiana tilted her head to the other side, accentuating her expression. "Am I close to you?"

Rhysand only gave a small smile as he leaned down to the blonde and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You have no idea how much," he whispered before kissing her again. "See you tonight," he straightened up and walked away.

Luxiana was frozen, her mouth hanging open as her heart slammed against her ribs, but Azriel, smirking at the sight, leaned down to kiss her just as chastely as Rhysand. He groaned, closing his eyes. How he loved kissing her. "Have a good afternoon and be careful, princess!"

He smiled even wider at the sight of his soulmate confused and lost then walked away with Rhys.

"Um, I..." Luxiana stuttered, blinking her eyes several times quickly to try to get her thoughts back in order. "What do these kisses mean?" she asked, placing her fingers on her lips, but the two Illyrians didn't stop walking towards the exit of the room. "What are we?"

The three of them burst out laughing but didn't answer and the two continued to walk away.

“But,” Luxiana begged for an answer she didn’t get.

She knelt down on her chair, grabbed the top of it with her hands and shouted to them, blushing and stuttering. "Uh, good afternoon to you too! Good luck! See you tonight!" her whole body and especially her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

"Fuck, she's so cute," Ariel growled through gritted teeth and turned around in order to go back to kissing her soulmate, unable to resist any longer.

But Rhysand grabbed his arm to stop him and pull him with him. "No," he forbade him. "And the sooner we leave, the sooner we come back."

"But look at her!" Azriel shouted, pointing at her. "She's so cute."

Rhysand shook his head. He wasn't going to look at her because if he did, he knew that, like Azriel, he wouldn't be able to resist his soulmate. "I know, I know," he breathed almost in exasperation before teleporting him and his brother away to make things easier, but reluctantly nonetheless.

Luxiana was breathing quickly and her lips were pursed, trying to calm the pleasure that was overwhelming her.

Cassian behind her was dying of laughter and even had to hold his sore abs. He hadn't seen Rhysand and Azriel this close in a long time and it was all thanks to her. And she had wanted to stay with them. She had chosen them for a few more days. She had chosen them instead of her best friend and they were so happy about it.

All three of them were bubbling with such joy that they couldn't help but smile even though they felt like jumping around.

***

Cassian and Luxiana were on the roof of a building called House of Wind where Cassian had flown him and where a training ground was located. The Illyrian was facing his soulmate with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "I insist, you should change. Put on pants and armor," he said for the eighteenth time since they had decided to come here and Luxiana had refused to change.

The blonde rolled her eyes. She had only answered : 'No' and 'I don't need it' to Cassian but her answers didn't seem to be enough for the Illyrian. "I prefer to fight in dresses," she explained, hoping that it would be enough for him. "Long dresses, like this one, are a bit more problematic, though, they allow me to move my legs more freely than pants. Besides, my mercenary outfit is a short, flared skirt. And for armor..." She smirked pretentiously as she leaned towards Cassian. "I don't need protection. It's not like anyone could manage to reach me. Besides, I'm not afraid of injuries anyway."

Cassian tilted his chin up with a smirk. "One, as much as I'd like to see you in your mercenary outfit, I refuse to let anyone but the three of us see your little pantie while you fight them, even if you kill them afterwards."

Luxiana straightened up with a frown but Cassian grabbed her chin in his hand. "And two, I fear you have injuries."

Luxiana could barely contain her blush. She smiled. "So? What do you propose to protect me, oh my hero?" She raised her hands to the Illyrian's head to pinch both of his cheeks. "You're going to show your beautiful face to my enemies to dissuade them from harming me?" She ran her fingers down his muscular arms to feel them as her hands were barely half the size of his biceps. "Although, your muscles alone could surely deter any enemy."

She licked her lips as she looked him over in one go with lust. “Could you, um,” she cleared her dry throat as she searched for words, “take off your armor real quick, so I can, um, analyze your musculature more closely. You know, to, um, make sure everything’s in its proper place.”

Cassian laughed proudly, his ego hurting right in the heart.

He brought his soulmate's face closer to his but gritted his teeth as he held back from kissing her at the last moment. If he gave in to his urge now and kissed her, he wouldn't be able to stop and he'd want more.

He growled as he pulled away and released her. "You, evil creature who does everything to lead me astray. But I've seen through your little game, you won't escape training that easily."

Luxiana laughed in a soft mockery but Cassian took a step back, his expression serious. "I think Azriel is already working on it but we're going to build you an armor like ours so you'll be better protected. You'll have to wear it all the time."

Luxiana crossed her arms. "All the time? And why would you do that for me?"

Cassian smirked. “You should stop asking questions like that.”

Luxiana pouted. "It's not my fault you treat me like…," she froze, blushing. "Like…," Their girlfriend. Their words, their attentions, their kisses. It was like she was their girlfriend. But that wasn't it, was it? It couldn't be that, not to the three of them… She was probably imagining things.

“As our precious little treasure?” Cassian completed, placing his large hand on her cheek. “Because that’s what you are to us.”

She wanted to ask him 'Why?' but Cassian cut her off by leaning down to place a kiss on her nose. “Stop wondering, Lu.”

Then he straightened up and took a step back to get into a fighting stance, his legs spread on his foot and his fists raised in front of him. "Come on, let's fight. I need to know what you're capable of."

Luxiana was tired of blushing almost every time she was there with them and her heart was exhausted from beating madly like that because of them. She then did not seek more answers to her questions by shaking her head and trying to pull herself together. She smirked as she detailed Cassian's position almost with contempt. She was going to break him in two. She grimaced. "I don't want to hurt you."

Cassian raised an eyebrow at first before bursting into laughter. "I can't wait to see it then, show me."

Luxiana could see that he didn't believe her for a second and that he was even making fun of her. "Are you sure? Because I'm going to tear you to pieces."

Cassian continued to laugh as he motioned for her to come towards him and attack him by opening his hand and moving his fingers back and forth. "Show me, baby. Don't worry I'll go slow."

Luxiana shrugged. "Not me."

She spun around to deliver a spinning kick to his face, which the Illyrian dodged just in time by leaning back.

Cassian's eyes widened as he realized with surprise that she was really fast. She threw several punches and kicks at him that the Illyrian dodged with great difficulty. "You're doing well," he exclaimed a little in astonishment.

"I'm waiting for you to feel confident enough to hit me back," Luxiana chanted pretentiously. "I'm not even at a quarter of my abilities. Fight seriously, and I'll do the same."

Cassian was even more surprised by the serious and cold air filled with confidence and power that remained behind the playful and provocative pupils of his soulmate. He decided to trust him. "Very well."

Without warning, he threw his fist at her ribs - slowly so as not to hurt her too much if she didn't dodge it. He didn't want to hurt her. But Luxiana stopped his fist by catching his wrist with only two fingers.

She gave him a bored, half-lidded look. "Please, make a little effort."

Cassian smirked as he retrieved his arm. Then he started throwing punches at his soulmate again, which she dodged all of them. He was going faster and faster, harder and harder, and his smile became admiring as he began to run out of breath but his soulmate didn't even have a drop of sweat on his forehead.

The Illyrian punched him as fast as he could in the throat and Luxiana dodged it this time narrowly with her forearms, taking the fist there. She smiled at the pain. "Here we are. We're finally going to be able to fight properly."

She began to hit him back and threw punches and kicks at him, dodging the ones the Illyrian threw at her.

As the minutes passed, Cassian's smile grew more and more amazed. She was strong. They were evenly matched.

But they weren’t really. She was much stronger than him. She smiled as she noticed an opening. She grabbed Cassian’s fist to go under his wing and behind his back while taking his arm with her to put him in an armlock. “On your knees,” she ordered in his ear as she stood on her tiptoes. She tapped both creases of his legs with the tip of one of her feet, forcing Cassian to fall heavily onto his shins. She ran her index finger over his throat to mime slicing it. “Boom, you’re dead. I win.”

Cassian's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and awe as he used all his strength to try and get his arm back but couldn't.

Luxiana leaned over his shoulder to see his face, still not letting go of his arm. "Don't force yourself too hard. I'm turning your strength against you in this position. If you keep struggling, you might break your arm."

Cassian looked up at his soulmate with a bright gaze of adoration and wonder as he stopped struggling. He didn't want to hurt her but he had still given it his all. Yet, she had brought him to his knees. And that, without even hurting him, which told Cassian that she too, had not given her all. If he had been an enemy, he would be dead.

Luxiana, seeing him stop moving, smirked as she ran her index finger under his chin. "Good boy," she congratulated him dominantly.

Cassian raised an eyebrow before raising his free hand to grab her throat and pull her forward, lifting himself up a little to sweep her with his leg.

Luxiana, not wanting to drag Cassian's arm with her and break it, released him with a cry of surprise as she landed on the ground. Cassian's hand was on her throat and he pinned her to the ground with it loosely.

The Illyrian mounted Luxiana, straddling her hips, while immobilizing the blonde's thighs with his shins.

Luxiana grabbed his arm that was holding her throat but Cassian, with his other hand, grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head. "So," he smiled pretentiously, "you can't do anything now?"

Luxiana laughed despite herself as she felt a wave of excitement run through her at their positions. "Oh, I could escape but," she looked him up and down, licking her lips. "I'm quite comfortable here."

The tension between them became palpable. A glow of desire lit in Cassian's eyes as he brought them to his soulmate's lips. He let out a guttural sound as he dropped onto her to kiss her.

She responded to the kiss with her entire body, intertwining her tongue with the Illyrian's. She moaned at the heat of excitement that settled in her lower abdomen and Cassian groaned in response.

Electrified and disturbed by the kiss, he loosened his grip on the blonde's wrists a little, which allowed Luxiana to roll her hands and escape his grip. With a blow of her knuckles in the commander's armpit, she hit a nerve in his arm that made him numb, forcing him to release her.

Cassian groaned in pain as he pulled away from the blonde's mouth to look at her and see what was wrong with her but she gave him another quick jab in the hip that forced him to release his grip on her legs.

She was then able to wrap her shins around the Illyrian's thighs and with a skillful pelvic thrust, made them turn to exchange their position.

Cassian, pleasantly surprised, found himself under Luxiana.

The blonde smiled haughtily at him. "I changed my mind eventually."

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🚫THERE IS A SMUT SCENE AFTER THOSE WORDS ! DO NOT READ IT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO, IF YOU ARE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE OR IF YOU ARE JUST NOT ALLOWED TO -> PASS DIRECTLY TO THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER !🚫

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She ran her hands down the Illyrian's torso to the base of his pants that hid his erection, which she could feel pressing between his legs.

Cassian then possessively grabbed the sides of her throat, his thumbs on her cheeks, to pull the blonde's head towards him and press his mouth to hers.

She returned the kiss with a moan as Cassian dug his fingers into her braid and pressed on the back of her head to deepen the kiss.

With her hands, she hastily undid the laces of the Illyrian's pants. And he released her face to slide his hands under her dress, place them on her thighs and caress them up to her hips.

She lowered his pants and Cassian helped her by lifting his hips. Luxiana lowered his leather to the middle of his thighs and the Illyrian's erection jumped to press against the blonde's crotch, making her shudder.

She stroked Cassian's chest and cursed his armor full of straps that looked like it would be hell to remove. She groaned in frustration but didn't even try before lowering her rest to Cassian's cock to grab it. She began to move her hand back and forth, which tore a raspy breath from the Illyrian, who closed his eyes and opened his mouth, enjoying the feeling of pleasure that spread through his body.

Damn, he couldn't already take it anymore. He grabbed her to switch places and pin her on her stomach, her cheek on the cold floor.

Luxiana moaned at the contrast in temperature of her skin to the ground and the arousal that made her tremble as Cassian hastily pulled her dress up over her buttocks.

He placed the bottom of her dress on her back and put his fingers right in the middle of her wet panties to rip them savagely and make a hole in them.

He positioned himself astride the blonde's thighs, grabbing his cock to position it at his soulmate's entrance.

Luxiana moaned impatiently as she moved her hips as Cassian rubbed his cock up and down her slit to lubricate it with her wetness.

From his knees, Cassian squeezed Luxiana's thighs together and then he inserted himself inside her slowly.

The blonde let out a long sigh as she felt the Illyrian's thick cock stretch her to the end. Cassian swore in a grunt as he closed his eyes. Then without waiting, he began to thrust his pelvis, slowly penetrating Luxiana at first, rolling his hips in such a way and taking his cock so deep, that she felt like she could feel it to her throat.

Luxiana slammed her hands onto the ground trying to hold on to something as she drowned in the molten lava that was pouring into her from her belly.

Cassian lay down fully on top of her, his weight on her back. "Do you like that?" he asked, giving her a rough, deep thrust.

Luxiana let out a small cry of surprise before nodding vigorously. "Yes."

He began to give even more violent and sharp blows, making the blonde jump with each blow. He caught her earlobe between his lips, sucking on it before biting it gently.

But he wanted so much more. He pulled out of her, hooked an arm under her pelvis, and lifted her so that her hips, knees, and breasts formed a triangle with the floor. He was still knelt behind her.

He slid between her legs, spreading them with his knees. He placed his hand on the small of her back, sliding his palm along the blonde's spine. "Arch your back."

Luxiana obey, perfectly revealing her open part to Cassian who groaned at the sight.

He grabbed her hips with both hands and entered her fully and deeply in one go, starting to move in and out of her as fast and deep as he could.

Luxiana could hardly breathe anymore. Her belly was on fire and electrified her entire body, hardening her nipples against the fabric of her dress and making all her skin tingle.

Cassian grabbed his soulmate's braid to wrap it around his fist, gripping it and pulling to raise Luxiana's head.

With her head raised, she moaned even louder, feeling Cassian's cock slide in, out, and deep inside her.

Cassian had his cock throbbing and his heart pounding hard to get pleasure back into his muscles and body.

He growled as he leaned over Luxiana to wrap his arms around her stomach and hold her in place as he pounded into her hard and fast.

He placed his mouth on his soulmate's ear. "Touch yourself, my treasure, make yourself come for me. Cum on my cock, fuck," he demanded in a trembling voice.

Luxiana was almost sobbing under Cassian's powerful hip thrusts that were drowning her in too much pleasure while her heart felt like it was spinning in her chest. She obeyed him without thinking. She slipped her hand under her to touch her clitoris, rubbing it impatiently under the excitement.

The more ecstasy rose within her, the more she arched her back and spread her legs, accentuating the depth of the penetration.

Cassian's cock hit the bottom hard. The pleasure Luxiana felt exploded first from her belly to spread throughout her body and contract her muscles and tightening her walls around Cassian's member as she had a powerful orgasm.

The Illyrian, feeling his cock tightened completely, gave two powerful thrusts before cumming in his soul mate while biting her neck to avoid moaning as he came inside her.

Luxiana's muscles relaxed, letting her slide completely belly down under Cassian's weight on top of her.

The Illyrian released the skin of the blonde's neck from between his teeth to catch his breath but smiled with all his might when he saw the mark of his jaws in her skin. He placed a kiss on the mark before taking his cock out from his soulmate to stand up, dragging her with him. "What an incredible fight," he sneered.

But Luxiana couldn't stand on her feet, her muscles numb. Cassian smiled proudly as he kept her upright and held her close with one hand while he straightened her dress with the other.

Luxiana nodded with a smile. "Indeed, we should fight like this more often," she muttered a little more into the gas.

Cassian groaned. "Fuck, yeah," and he placed his large, warm hand on the blonde's cheek, tilting her head up and looking at her lovingly. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream that he was in love with her.

[spindrifters]

I've been doing battle with my internet all day to get this up for Lynxmas. I would not be bested!! I refused and I persevered!! So a very happy birthday from me and the rowdy 11 year olds to our favorite barwench humble forest cat @lynxindisguise!!

There’s a peculiar shuffle to sharing one’s room, a frenzy of activity when it comes to four boys squashed into a rather small circular dorm that puts Remus—not only used to the solitude of his own little cottage bedroom, but raised without so much as a single other child his own age for at least ten miles in each direction—decidedly on edge.

It’s a continuation of the chaos from the welcoming feast, where the newly-sorted Gryffindor boys had quickly found their stride and accompanying role in the ecosystem. James and Sirius, no longer competing over who could eat more chicken thighs but still loudly trying to one-up each other’s boasts about feats of accidental magic. Peter, scrabbling to get a word in while his eyes gleamed with excitement each time one of them noticed. And Remus, the impulse to join in the fun warring with Dad’s gentle word of warning before he climbed on the train earlier in the day—can’t be too careful, lad.

He pushes that to the side, focusing instead on finding his plush grindylow Raccoon at the bottom of his trunk. It’s a poor replacement for Jeff, the very real grindylow who lives at the bottom of his garden pond and who he already misses something fierce—and he is not going to let the other boys see that he brought a stuffed animal with him to school, thank you very much—but still. It helps to know that Raccoon’s there. It helps to know he'll have at least one friend at school.

Because Peter’s nice, but he and James are already friends from growing up, and Sirius and James… Well, he supposes they mean well, but with their shining black shoes and posh accents and the way they barrel loud and bright through a conversation like nothing in the world could touch them, Remus can’t help but be intimidated. For Merlin’s sake, Sirius has silver monogrammed cufflinks on the sleeves of his school uniform. Even if Remus does manage the courage to ever string more than two words together in front of his new dormmates, he can’t imagine they’d ever want to be friends with someone like him.

There’s a flash then, followed by a bang, and Remus becomes briefly distracted by a whirling firework escaping from James’s trunk. There’s laughter at that, a slight salve to his fluttering, nervous gut when the other boy winks at him from behind square-frame glasses, but then James turns back to say something to Sirius instead and stops. He gapes.

“Why are you wearing a dress?”

“It’s not a dress,” Sirius sniffs, looking affronted at the very idea. “It’s a nightshirt.”

Well, whatever it is Sirius has changed into while the rest of them weren’t paying attention, it certainly looks like a dress. It’s white, and ankle-length, and buttoned all the way up to just beneath his chin. Also, it’s frilly. Very frilly. If anything, it looks like something out of Ma’s old and battered copy of A Christmas Carol, like he should really have a long nightcap and candleholder to go with it.

Remus can’t help it. He snorts.

Sirius snaps his gaze over, steel grey eyes boring holes into him, and Remus wants to melt into the floor beneath his feet. “Well, what do you wear to sleep, then, if it’s so funny?” he snaps.

“Not my gran’s nightie,” Remus replies, feeling he ought to be congratulated, actually, on such a witty remark. Only Sirius’s eyes flash at that, and immediately his jaw clamps jaw shut.

But then James is cackling, and Sirius seems to take in his new dormmates for the first time since they all began changing for bed. James, in a vest and Quidditch shorts. Peter, in a matching set of broomstick-patterned pyjamas. Remus, in a pair of joggers and the oversized green jumper that still smells like Dad. A red flush creeps up Sirius’s pale cheeks. “Oh.”

It occurs to Remus then, that this wasn’t at all what he wanted, either. He didn’t want to make Sirius feel bad about it. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass him.

So it’s a poor offering, maybe, but he finds himself digging out another jumper—orange, this time, but a nice soft one, and not too oversized or nubby—and says, “D’you want to borrow it?”

A moment passes, then two, and then Sirius is smiling wide. “Cheers, Lupin,” he says, a shine in his eyes of something Remus doesn’t quite know how to place.

In future days he’ll come to understand that that look is the surefire sign of Sirius about to do something that’s not the done thing—not by pureblood standards, anyway, whatever the hell those are. All he knows right now is that Sirius isn’t yelling at him—or worse, ignoring him—and then James is throwing an extra pair of Quidditch shorts at Sirius’s face and saying no one wants to see his skivvies, and then Peter is breaking out a massive bag of Bertie Bott’s to share, and maybe it turns out that Remus can have friends, actually, after all.

[nightunite]

Yeehaw Mothafuckas!

Me after sending the same meme to @nightunite and @beloveds-embrace and getting a reaction I was hoping to get:

[nightunite]

Me, having wolfpack!141 thoughts with an oblivious!reader who may or may not be a sheep!shifter that has no idea she's literally walking into the wolves' den? Sad but true Will I write it? Nah

[holylulusworld]

One autumn night - Flufftober 10

Summary: Dean and you make a home together.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Rating: Teen

Square 25 filled for @warmandfluffybingocards: Carry you to bed

Square 2 filled for @jacklesversebingo: Bubbles

Warnings: a/b/o, fluff

Trope: a/b/o

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

A few months ago, …

“Why do we need a bathtub?” Dean cocks his head to watch you climb into a bathtub at Costco. “You only sit in your stink and dirt. A shower is much better. You jump under the spray, get clean and you don’t need all the fancy bath foam.”

“But—” you pucker your lips and sniffle. “What about the bubbles? I love long bubble baths and bath bombs. We could have a large bathtub and bathe together. You can scrub my back and I can snuggle into your chest.”

Dean licks his lips. He looks at the bathtub again, suddenly eager to join you. Your alpha climbs into the bathtub, humming. “Not bad. But this one is too small. We’ll need a bigger one.”

“Right! Especially if Sammy wants to use it too,” you point out. You’ve got your alpha where you want him and won’t go home without buying a bathtub. 

"Sammy got stinky feet, and we won't let him use our bathtub."

“We can have a shower too.” You look around the store. “You know, to shower together.”

“Uh-huh,” he nods thoughtfully. “You know, shower sex is complicated and dangerous, sweetheart.”

“So, it’s decided. We are going to get a bathtub and a shower,” you conclude. “The question is, which one do we want to buy?”

Now, …

You decided on a corner sunken tub for your corner master bathroom. It’s large enough for you and Dean. And with windows on both sides, you have a perfect view of the garden while taking a bath.

Dean built the rustic log cabin compound with his own hands. And a little help from his brother. Sam has a cabin close by. Even though you stopped hunting a few years ago, your home is warded. You’re out of business, but the demons and monsters lurking in the dark didn’t get the message.

“What do you think?” you lean back against Dean’s chest and sigh. He doesn’t answer, busy running his hands up and down your arms. “Dean? It’s a great bathtub, right?”

“It was a lot of work,” he grumbles. “At least it was worth the hard work. I got my sweet omega. Naked…”

“Dean,” giggling you slap his thigh. “I don’t want to get dirty again. Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Winchester.”

“Ma’am you got into the bathtub with me. Of course, I’ll try to touch the sweet omega snuggling into my chest.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“I’m irresistible.” 

“That you are.” 

“The water is getting cold, sweetheart. We should get out,” he kisses your shoulder. “I know you like the bathtub, but we don’t want to freeze.”

You sigh but slowly get out of the bathtub.

Dean wraps you in a fluffy towel to gently rub you dry. “You smell so good. I could eat you alive.” He sniffs at your neck. “But I’ll bring you to the bathroom first.”

He wraps his arms around your back and behind your knees to pick you up in bridal style. Dean holds you close to his body as you nuzzle your face in his shoulder. 

“I’m a little cold,” you mumble sleepily. 

“I’ll warm you up, Y/N,” Dean walks a little faster toward the bedroom. It’s warm and cozy inside. He made sure of it. “There we go.”

He carefully puts you on the bed. “I can dress myself, Dean,” you laugh as he wants to help you get dressed. “Dean!”

“Alright…alright. But hurry up and get under the covers. I want you warm and comfortable.”

You change into your nightie and crawl under the covers. Dean follows suit, immediately wrapping you in his strong arms.

“That’s perfect.” You sigh happily.

“That it is, sweetheart. That it is…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[luxsmall]

Soooo the thrift finds 💖💖💖💖 (all the colors are washed out af due to bad lighting sorryyyyy)

Biggest flex is this one, from what I can gather it's from the 60-70s, brand new with tag, from Lingerie du Chat 🐈‍⬛ it has the pointy boobs dart which is so fun I love it

This basically is your grandma's nighty lol BUT trust I'll alter it at the waist and change up the length and it'll be cute because it is! That neckline is so precious it's already sweeter with a skirt on imo (it's much pinker)

Now that's the scarf it catches light so nicely irl, I tied it like that's but it's a square (much more pink too)

The apron !!! It's so obviously been made by an old lady I love it, I'll definitely add ruffles and round up the corners but the birds are SO CUTE

And now for the cherry on top, I present to you a 70s inspired watch, the specific style I've been looking for because you can wear it as is or add ribbons and trinkets to it, so pretty 💕

@thatdayindecember tagging you since you asked for the pics 💖

[nightunite]

I forgot that it's spring which means my body demands I find a small creature to nurture, and now I want a hamster so fucking badly

*skitters in* hewwo, can I ask if you would be willing to draw hamsters? *skitters out*

Absolutely!

I can draw more when I get home >:D

[sytalice]

Absolutely obsessed for some reason by nighty cities where buildings have a few lit windows (bonus point if it's a tad apocalyptic). My psychiatrist told me I have a voyeur kink

Téléchat (1983) - Henri Xhonneux, Roland Topor Radiator Building (1927) - Georgia O'Keeffe Street Nocturne (1929) - Lyonel Feininger Metropolis (1927) - Fritz Lang Nausicaä (1984) - Hayao Miyazaki Amaurot from Final Fantasy XIV's Shadowbringers (2019) - Square Enix Oniisama e (1991) - Osamu Dezaki

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 88 - nightwear in 1925

Last round of nightgowns and robes, here we go! No Violet or Rose this time around, but this has to be the first time since the show’s very first scene (!) of Gwen and Anna getting up at the beginning of the premiere episode that we see one of the servants in nightwear.

And it’s Mrs Hughes the morning of her wedding! They lean a little hard on this “heh, she’s not the age one would typically get married for the first time, amirite?”, but fine; I actually like this. The collar is a bit dowdy, but then this is a nightie. I like the scalloped trim with a bit of grey piping, and the main material looks to be a sturdy cream linen that’s a bit gathered in the shoulder seams and the yoke seam, giving it some volume and quite potentially warmth.

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Cora tones down her dressing gown game this season, but she does get a few new nightgowns. Which we mostly just see from the chest upward, but that’s usually where anything interesting happens. “Interesting” in this case means a square neckline and a little lace trim to neck and sleeves and making a beeline down the center front for one, and a V neckline with a little more elaborately insertion lace and ever so slightly ruffled sleeves for the other. Nice enough; next!

I’m still not sure if this is Cora’s nightgown to begin with; I seem to remember Mary had one like this with a keyhole neckline, and they occasionally swap clothes back and forth between them. Let’s look at the dressing gown instead. Golden lace? Come on, this is just here for bragging. No one wears lace when they want to be comfy. It looks pretty, although I personally could’ve done without the ruffles.

Another ruffle front nightgown with lace insertion sleeves, and a dressing robe that looks weirdly sloppy and simple for Cora’s usual standards. That is to say, it looks like a realistic dressing gown, not something for the runway. It’s a simple slate grey number with a little lace trim and sleeve ruffles. Cute.

--------------

Mary lost her light blue kimono-ish robe from last season and replaces it with… another light blue kimono-ish robe this season. Okay? I like this one better; the print is lovely, especially as it spreads out over the sleeves. The second nightgown she wears under this, the ensemble actually with the lacey jacket over it, is a repeater from last season, but the poorly-lit one in pale blue with a lace insertion strip across the chest is new.

They show her a lot in this champagne silk satin dressing gown this season. I mean, I get it; the drape of the wing sleeves is glorious, but then why do you get so inconsistently lazy with her evening wardrobe? Anyway, pretty, but it’s kinda translucent and they always have a bit of her brassiere peeking out, making me think they want to make up for Mary’s shitty behavior in sex appeal. It’s not working.

Another kimono thing? I’m not sure; the sleeves seem to be slit higher up than I would expect of a kimono. However, the color pairing of dark blue upper fabric and peachy pink lining and embroidery is superb. Also, it’s not just the robe that has flowers – her nightgown fits right in there with its whitework.

Pretty similar to the previous, but not quite the same. This robe is black instead of dark blue, printed where I was quite sure the other is embroidered, and since it’s printed, the flowers really go overboard. Roses, daisies, what have you. I’d also say this is a more lightweight fabric, with the way it crinkles around her neck.

--------------

Finally, Edith, whom we only ever see once in a state of undress this season, which is the day of her wedding. And she’s in peach! Lovely peach silk satin, as little as I get to see of it, making her glow like the happy bride she is. My guess is that the white bit peeking out there is underwear rather than a nightgown. Off we go to the bridal fashions!