#no but he actually looks way too good here what. what. what.

[ferritins]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE (HOT TO GO!) | J. TODD

“I don't care how many years I've known you and how goddamn hot it is; we have not been friends for long enough to excuse you wearing short shorts in my home.”

“Short shorts?” Jason splutters. “They’re not fucking Daisy Dukes! These are US Army issue nylon tricot weave PT shorts! The Marines wear these!”

Yeah, you think, but I strongly doubt the Marines make them look borderline obscene.

Your eyes keep tracking to the thick, corded muscle of thighs, the ochre-gold of tanned skin cut through with dusk-rose scarring, the way the hems of his shorts strain against the sheer bulk of him.

(You’re ogling him. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to look away.)

“Actually, they phased silkies out of Marine PT uniform issue in 2011.” You say, mouth dry. “The US Armed Forces is responsible for many atrocities, but your slutty choice in shorts is not one of them.”

Realisation of what you've said strikes like a meteor through marzipan. You start throwing silent prayers to every god you can think of that Jason doesn’t pick up on a particular detail of your response.

You can practically see the moment that any divinity that exists in the universe decides to spite you, and the second half of your comment registers in Jason’s head.

He blinks hard, mouth dropping into a comedic little ‘o’.

“Wait a minute. You think my shorts are slutty?”

"...I think that if you can look me in the eye and tell me that three inch inseam shorts aren't a questionable choice when you're packing heat like that, you're lying to both me and yourself.” You reply diplomatically, tearing your eyes away from those delectable thighs.

Jason's ears flush crimson.

“Oh, like your shirt is so much better with that many buttons undone.”

You start, glancing down at yourself. Sure, there's more décolletage on show than you'd perhaps feel strictly comfortable with in public, but your shirt is hardly indecent. You look back up to find Jason's eyes trained on the hook of your collarbone, right at the point where it dips into the suprasternal notch; his eyes flit up to meet yours, pupils blown, as a patchy flush floods his cheeks.

“Wha— are you a bloody Victorian? Is showing a little bit of collarbone in my own apartment really scandalous enough to make you blush?” You ask, laughing a little with incredulity.

“Nothing Victorian about either of us, if the way you were staring at my legs is any indication about how your mind works. ”Jason retorts. Your jaw drops, and Jason snickers. “Yeah, sweetheart, I noticed.”

You feel your blood rush to your face at a frankly mortifying speed, Jason's smirk turning distinctly wolfish at your clear embarrassment.

“Okay, so we're both godless slatterns. Good chat. Glad we can end this here before I die of embarrassment.” You mutter.

Jason quirks an eyebrow.

“Slattern? Why, was ogling my thighs doing it for you, sweetheart? Thinking about how one of them would feel between your own?”

Jason's voice tips into a baritenor rumble at the end of the sentence, the sound sending heat dripping into the pit of your belly.

You can see that goddamn smirk on his face, caught somewhere between teasing and a flash of teeth, clearly enjoying every second of your fluster.

You've got to get your lick back.

“Depends. What was it you were thinking about, Jay? How pretty my collarbone might bruise after you sink your teeth into it? Or is touch more your thing, huh? Wondering about my skin under your fingers?”

The sound that leaves Jason is punched-out, his pupils blowing out to the size of dinner plates.

Your lips quirk up, something like victory in the corners of your smile.

Before you can gloat, you find yourself pressed up into the back of your sofa, Jason we'll and truly in your personal space.

Hovered over you, he’s all supposition; unyielding muscle and sharp lines, hard planes to your soft curves, flooding your nose with the scent of cologne and gunpowder.

You find yourself blinking up into a pair of ink-black pupils, ringed ever so faintly by teal.

“You are playing,” Jason murmurs, “a very dangerous game.”

“Am I winning?” You laugh.

“Fuck.” Jason mutters, husky and emphatic, then; “if you knew how long I’ve wanted—“

He breaks off, a savage huff of breath leaving him.

“Look, if you’re just teasing, I need you to say something now, before—“

With a roll of your eyes, you press your lips to his in a brief, close-mouthed kiss. When you pull back, Jason looks sun-stunned, hope and disbelief warring in his eyes.

“Idiot.” You snark fondly. “You didn’t answer my question. Am I winning?”

A moment, then two, then he’s brushing butterfly kisses to your cheeks, temple, the tip of your nose and the soft hinge of your jaw before, finally, finally, his lips press to yours, close-mouthed and chaste.

The two of you trade slow, shy kisses, soft and sweet until you catch Jason’s full bottom lip between your teeth, tugging slightly.

You hear his breath catch, and the kisses abruptly turn filthy; Jason licking at the seam of your lips until you open up for him, the electric pressure of his tongue against yours, sharp, incisors nipping sharply at your bottom lip.

You could die happily like this, you think; Jason’s hands rucking up your shirt, his mouth on yours, the knowledge of how he tastes burned into your synapses.

When you part, your chest is burning with air hunger, and your lips are spit-slick and puffy.

As much as you’d like to continue, you’re desperate for a cold drink, and only some of the sweat at your hairline is courtesy of your marathon make out.

You say as much to Jason, who groans, full throated, and sucks a savage mark into the side of your neck.

“Okay, you absolute menace. I’ll go grab you a coke, and as soon it gets below 95 in the shade, I’ll show you just how much of a winner you are.”

wallahi england is a godforsaken nation and not just because of r*shi s*nak and k*ir st*rmer. how is the humidity 81% at 11pm at night??? “marley aren’t u african and from desert country” YES. WHERE HOT ALSO MEANS DRY, AS GOD INTENDED.

at least desert country is arid heat.

anyway: Jason Todd good hot, England bad hot (and also a failed state run by cartoonishly corrupt devils, but enough abt britpol).

this one goes out to my fellow Jason Todd apologists @sems-diarie and @stars-n-sweets !!!

[clockwayswrites]

So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

---

“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

[sturnsdoll]

𝙍𝙄𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙍𝙔-`♡´- -c.s & t.y x reader

requested?: i've been bombarded to write another. so here y'all go!

pairing: dom!chris x dom!tara x sub!reader

summary: during a car ride home, your two friends get in a ridiculous arguement over who's better at pleasing women. both of them decide that you'll be the judge of that when you get to tara's.

warnings: no use of y/n, smut, threesome!, oral (f! & m! revieving), fingering, petnames (honey, good girl), cocky!tara&chris

word count: 4,446

authors note: ANOTHA ONE!! (don't like? don't read!)

"pink" = reader "orange" = chris "purple" = tara

it had felt like an extremely long day out despite it only having been a few hours you'd actually been with your friends. earlier, your friend tara had invited you out to do a little shopping and get some food. already being at the triplets home, you chose to invite them- however only chris had been free to come for the day.

the three of you got along surprisingly well, it'd been yap city the entire day between you guys. now though, it was time to head to tara's to sleepover. it had taken some convincing but you'd convinced chris to come for the (not so) girls night at hers.

dominic fike played lowly through the car, chris's choice of course but one that you and tara didn't particularly mind at all. she was currently driving her hot pink detailed vehicle. chris was in shot gun and you'd taken the back, wanting the space for a little nap.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"i think it's insane that some guys just like... can't make a girl cum?" tara said outlandishly, a little giggle on the end. chris laughed, a little taken aback at the odd conversation starter but not necessarily put off by it.

chris nodded subtly "yea, it's a little insane" he said, not a ton of interest in the conversation, he seemed mildly uncomfy talking about it. tara eyed him suspiciously, making a face that implied she was thinking about something. "you ever made a girl cum?" tara asked the younger man bluntly.

chris looked a little nervous, or more so slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. he shrugged, hesitating before nodding with a "yea?" like the answer was obvious. tara glanced at him again, eyes squinted. "hm."

chris looked at her for a few seconds, expecting her to continue. when she didn't, he decided to question her back "have you?" he felt odd asking it the second it left his lips but she didn't seem to mind, more than open to talking about it.

tara rolled her eyes "obviously. women know their shit when it comes to hoo ha's" she noticed that after her comment, chris had grown silent, side eyeing her clearly. "i'm sure you know your shit too, i'm just saying i'm better at it cause i'm a girl" she explained cockily.

"mhm" at chris's bland response, tara looked him up and down almost with slight judgement, her eyebrow raising slightly "you don't think so?" she questioned challengingly to which chris shrugged "i just know i know my shit. just cause you have a.." he hesitated, not wanting to be disrespectul with his choice word "..have one doesn't mean you automatically know more" chris's body language showed discomfort but his words and tone of voice said that he was sure in what he spoke.

tara almost looked appalled. it was a red light so she whipped her head to look back at you "are you hearing this-" she quieted her voice, cutting herself off when she saw you curled against the car door, practically drooling in a deep sleep.

chris smiled a little at your state "i bet you she'd agree with me" he stated. tara shrugged with a cocky look on her features "guess we'll see when she wakes up" she stated, making an unspoken agreement with chris that your opinion would be their tie breaker.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

once you'd woke up and arrived at tara's, they didn't immediately bombard you with the ridiculous question. instead, you all made your ways to tara's living room, taking seats and talking about the day out, the only illuminants in the room being moonlight splashing through the windows mixed with low lamp light.

right after debriefing your day out, chris and tara seemed to exchange looks and simultaneously fall silent. you looked confused, smiling at your friends almost awkwardly "something wrong?" almost the second you spoke, chris piped in. "do you think that being a girl automatically means you're better at.. pleasing women?.." chris had an awkward smirk, almost more so a smile as he questioned you- he knew it was random.

looking between the two of them in shock you shrugged "i mean- i've been with both and some women suck too so, i guess not?"

tara groaned half playfully. "noo, you were supposed to agree with me" she complained. chris had an 'i told you so' look as she spoke. you put two and two together and realized this was a debate between the two.

you shrugged with a quiet "sorry" before sipping on the water you'd been neglecting to drink all day. chris opened his mouth to say something (that probably would've made tara flip.) but before he got to speak, tara interuppted "still doesn't mean that you're any better" she responded, crossing her legs and arms with an annoyed glint to her brown eyes when they fell on chris.

chris leaned back in his seat, legs spreading as he brought his pepsi can towards his lips "guess we'll never know" he told tara, a small shrug following.

you watched the way he leaned back in his seat, the way tara's crossed arms pushed her boobs up for a better view. finding your mind running, you wondered who's really better at pleasing. they're the one's who'd inflicted the idea afterall. in a spur of the moment, spontaneous decision, you decided to say something that'd either ruin or make the night.

"why don't we find out?"

both their eyes snapped to yours. you looked at them like it hadn't been you who just said it, your eyes widened in instant regret, looking almost petrified of their inevitable reactions.

tara was the first to snap out of the shock of your words. her lips curved to a smirk as she slowly turned her head to chris "yea, why don't we?" she questioned "unless you're scared you'll lose?" she directed at him challengingly, a daring glint in her eyes.

he licked his lips, opening his mouth like he had a million things to say. yet, all that came out was a choked laugh, practically a scoff. your eyes had been so focused between the two of them that you didn't even notice his hand creeping along the couch till it firmly rested on your knee.

his eyes locked on yours with question of if you were okay with this. you took hold of your bestfriends hand and guided it further up your thigh, a sign for him to do as he pleases.

and oh was he was going to.

in the blink of an eye his lips were on yours, free hand on the side of your jaw. all the while you heard shuffling behind you, then the cushion of the couch sunk down. tara's perfume clouded your senses as she moved up against your back.

you heard a light smack and chris's hand dissapeared, replaced by tara's on your thigh. you assumed she'd swatted his hand away. "my turn first" she demanded, confirming your suspicions. chris didn't protest. he broke away from your lips and got up when she nodded for him to. if he had to wait to please you that was fine with him, he was sure it'd only be better if he went after tara anyways since then you'd be all sensitive for him already.

tara's delicate fingers found the strings on your sweats, pulling them loose. she muttered for you to lay down, head on the arm rest and you did. as she worked on discarding your pants, your eyes wandered to chris whom was removing his belt.

you wanted to question what he was doing but you were caught off gaurd by tara's thumb gently pressing onto your clit through your panties. you watched as she took her glistening thumb to her lips with a smirk. she sucked the residue off lightly. "already soaked for me, honey?" tara cooed softly, earning a glare from chris.

jesus you were already soaked through your underwear? well that's not embarassing at all.

tara only smiled, leaning down between your legs. you watched in anticipation as her hands grabbed the insides of your knee's to push them apart. then one hand came down to hook the front of your pretty thong and pull it to the side. she practically drooled at the sight of you, throbbing at the thought of how wet you'd gotten for her- well for both friends already.

with a bat of her lashes she met your gaze, a sickeningly sweet smile as she leaned down and attached her lips around your clit. a surprised whine left from your lips, head tilting back on the arm rest. that's when you were met with the sight of chris.

(if anyone gets confused about the position, click here)

"you feel good?" he questioned, his face hard to read as his eyed roamed your body, from where your shirt rolled up your stomach all the way down to tara's head buried in your thighs.

upon trying to answer, she un-expectedly began flicking her tongue over your throbbing bud. "yea.." you said, voice high pitched and needy for more. he stood behind the arm of the couch so you had to look upside down at him from where your head lay.

your eyes roamed down his body to find his clothes still on, but jeans boxers pulled to his thighs as he stroked himself slowly, mouth agape at the sight of you.

his waist was level with where your head rested on the arm of the couch. chris shuffled a little closer to gently grab your chin, tilting your head back. you came face to face with his angry red tip that was leaking from the sight of you being devoured infront of him.

he stroked your cheek soothingly as he spoke "can i use your mouth, gorgeous?" despite his sweet tone of voice, his tip forced your bottom lip up. you could already feel the blood rush to your head from having it tilted back over the arm of the couch. your mouth opened for him compliantly, tongue darting out to run over his length.

he took that as a yes, thrusting half the length of his dick through your lips at the same time tara sucked your clit through her teeth, nibbling almost painfully.. almost.

your hips lifted as you choked out a moan around your friends dick. you could feel the smirk on tara's lips against your heat and your sure chris's expression matched. your male friend used his large hand covering your chin, practically on your throat, to keep you where he wanted as he completely thrusted his inches down your throat.

you clawed at the couch as you gagged lightly around him. he pulled out before slipping his dick right back in your mouth, quickly finding a slow pace to fuck your mouth at. although you couldn't see it, his mouth was hung open at the sight and feel of you. contrasting that, tara's tongue sucked and flicked fast enough to have your thighs reactively trying to entrap her head.

she smacked your thigh lightly, releasing your clit with a wet noise. you couldn't speak, so instead tried to whine around chris's cock apologetically. it didn't matter though because your clit was momentarily neglected. however, your dripping hole was invaded instead.

as tara's tongue fucked into you, you choked around your other friend, pulling your head back from him. he let you get to the tip to take a breath. your eyes were glossy with tears from having your throat abused, lips red and puffy. "you okay?" he asked, swiping your hair from your face. you nodded quickly, quickly regaining composure. his voice came out low with arousal, but soft at the sight of your cock-drunk features "gonna keep takin' me like a good girl?" his thumb caressed your cheek sweetly as he asked.

you whined, hips rolling into tara's mouth in reaction to his voice. chris was loving how much such a simple thing got you going. he tapped your cheek with his pointer finger gently, reminding you to respond. once you nodded your head for comfirmation, he went right back to chasing his high, slipping himself through your messy drool and cum covered lips.

speaking of chasing high's, your hand slid down shyly to find tara's hair, gripping lightly through her shiny black locks, which she had no protest for at all, even letting a whine out into your cunt that made your hips jolt up. the feel of her tongue was enough to have your head spinning as is, but having your head uncomfortably tilted back to take chris had you feeling like passing out.

as your hips squirmed up, tara placed her arm on your stomach, pushing you back to the cushions. you tried forming incoherent words around chris's cock, making tara chuckle into you. the vibration from her lips made you whine, you tried pulling off chris to inform them of your need to finish but he only pulled you back

(gentle enough that you could indicate to him if you really needed a break or if you were just trying to speak.)

tara watched with amusement as he kept you quiet. "shh, i know it feels good honey" she silenced you, her tongue plunging right back into your tight walls once done speaking. your cries of ecstasy came more frequently now and it was driving chris insane. you could tell by how his pace began to falter that you weren't the only one approaching your high.

knowing you were at the brink of breaking, her tongue entered you one last time, her hand pushing onto your lower abdomen in synch with it. you couldn't help it, this time you pulled your lips off chris and let out a high pitched cry, propping yourself on your elbows to let the blood flow back to your body from your head.

"fuck" you murmured as you held your friends face against your now-leaking cunt, riding your high while watching as she lapped at every drop leaking onto her tongue.

she soon came up your body with a satisfied grin on her lips. those same lips met yours, forcing you to tase yourself. mid kiss you both heard chris groan, causing tara's eyes to open and lips to leave yours. she watched as cum dripped down his dick, minstrated by his now stilled hand. she crawled over you, leaning forward over the arm rest with her tits in your face as she stuck her tongue out to clean up chris.

with them being right there, you took one of her nipples in your mouth. she finished cleaning up chris and then sat up on your hips, making you release her tit with a subtle pop. "this is about you, honey" she states as she gets up off of you and the couch "or at least it was till he shoved his dick down your throat..."

chris rolled his eyes, ignoring her comment and playfully shoving her aside as he approached you, pulling his boxers and jeans back up. "good luck topping that." tara said cockily, referring to how fucked out she'd already caused you to be.

chris only looked at you and smirked. he may not have been yappin' like tara was, but his confidence in outdoing her was pretty damn high. he motioned for you to sit up, so you did. he took a seat beside you and patted his lap. this hadn't been what you were expecting. gladly though you straddled him, hovering slightly.

"made such a fucking mess" he muttered to you. along with his comment, two of his long fingers came out and unexpectedly pushed all your juices back into you, ripping a whine deep from in your throat. his fingers experimentally curled and his name drawled out of your mouth the second they had. he figured you were already all worked up, there was no need to make you wait right?

his blue eyes locked with yours as he repeated the action again, and again.. and again. your hands gripped at each of his shoulders nails surely leaving marks through the fabric. "you like that?" chris's voice sounded patronizingly cockily. his eyes trailing to give tara a shit eating grin when you couldn't even get out a simple 'yes' your head nodding and hips grinding down into his hand instead.

tara was a little further down the couch now from you guys, her eyes locked on the two of you as her hand snaked into her own shorts to rub over her panties. she wanted to be mad at his cocky demeanor but instead, she found herself practically leaking at the over confident smirk he gave her. (not that she'd ever admit it)

your legs shook lightly as you tried to chase his movements with your hips. almost every curl of his fingers elicted some kind of needy noise from you. chris watched in both awe and satisfaction at how overstimulated you were, his fingers purposefully pushing as deep as possible just for a reaction.

your head dropped down to his shoulder, a gutteral moan as you gripped at the sleeve of his hoodie for any kind of stability. "'m not g-gonna last long" you hardly managed through pathetic little whines in his ear.

chris shook his head "no, you're gonna finish with your friend" he told you, eyes glancing between tara, then back to you. you shook your head gently in protest "but-" "shh, you'll live."

when you rested your head sideways to see your female friend, her legs were spread, hand in her shorts and head tilted back as she bit down on her lip to silence herself. but most noteably, her brown eyes were locked on chris's free hand that was currently running along your side.

tara's eyes took in the length and perfect thickness to chris' fingers, the way they gripped at your skin. the sight had her legs closing back up, thigh's squeezing her own hand as a strangled desperate whine finally slipped her glossed lips.

but you weren't the only one who caught sight of tara's wandering eyes. chris's look darkened at it, feeling his ego puffing up at knowing what she was thinking.

"gonna keep gawkin' orr you wanna come here?" there was a newfound cockiness to his tone that made tara smirk, quickly releasing her hand from between her thighs before shuffling down the couch where you and him sat. she was the first to make a move on chris, gripping the younger brunette's jaw gently to place her lips on his.

while his lips messily pressed back to hers, he slyly slipped his arm around tara's waist, pulling her in so her side was rested right against his. she lifted her hips to remove her black denim jorts, slipping them off onto the floor along with her (now wet) panties.

you were far from neglected during this entire interaction, rutting your hips all the way down chris's fingers as they curled into you with just the right amount of pressure to have your nails clawing further into his hoodie. the sight of your two friends messily swallowing each others mouths eagerly was like having a porno unfold right before your eyes.

chris' hand grazed down tara's stomach, agonizingly slow all the way to her waist. he intentionally missed where he should have been heading to go straight for her thigh's.

she wasn't really in the mood for it right now, further evident by her clutching his roaming hand into hers, forcing it to cup her soaked cunt instead. her hips greedily pushed into his hand, causing them to both to smile into the kiss.

now you tried not to get jealous of the both of them as you watched but it was becoming increasingly hard. tara's eyes momentarily flashing to catch your needy stare caused her to break off from chris' lips.

her soft fingers went for your throat, wrapping with just enough pressure to make you gasp in surprise. with that same grip she forced you towards her, her mouth coming to yours. instead of connecting your lips, she gently bit your bottom lip. sinking her teeth in gently and tugging your lip back, grinning when your gasp turned into a whine from both the sting of the bite along with the overwhelming feeling of chris's fingers.

which speaking of, were now circling tara's clit with his other hand. she was constantly gasping, her lips now trailing your jaw and her hand squeezing your neck tighter in response to chris's movements.

feeling the need to join in, chris' began mouthing at the unoccupied side of your neck, his eyes fluttering shut, soaking in the sounds of both your pleasured noises. he felt a sense of pride knowing it was because of him.

your body was hot all over, nearly feeling like you could pass out from but too caught up in being finger fucked by your friend to care. chris could tell you wouldn't be able to hold off much longer, so he tauntingly moved his wrist further forward to curl his digits deeper into you.

"'m-" you cut yourself off with a moan as they both sucked down on different parts of your neck in synch. you'd think they planned it with how in unison their mouths worked dark purple marks onto you.

forgetting to repeat yourself, your jaw just fell slack, gripping chris' arm warningly. "close?" he mumbled in question against your bruised skin. upon hearing you breathing out an "uh huh", he knew he was gonna need to get tara there faster if he wanted you both to finish together. so he switched to circling your friends clit with the pad of his thumb instead, slowly fucking two fingers into her.

tara parted from your neck to look at chris like she had something to say about it but was quickly shut up when his fingers brushed the spongey spot deep inside her, having her reeling for more of it.

she had already been close from her own previous work on herself so she wasn't gonna last much longer either, announcing it by mumbling next to chris' ear that he was "doing so good" her voice lacked the same cockiness from earlier, sounding needy now,

chris bit his lip to suppress a smile at the praise for how good he was doing at pleasing the both of you. now the only rivalry with chris that tara could care about was if he was making you or her cum first, the argument from earlier long lost in her mind.

he himself had been trying to contain himself from growing hard again at the gorgeous sight of his two friends falling apart on top of, as well as beside him. he wasn't sure when or how he started but his hips were subconciously rutting up into your thigh in rythym with the pace of his fingers inside you.

the sight and sounds of both of you was almost too much, he spoke up to try and talk you both to the edge "c'mon, look so pretty taking it" he started breathlessly, his head was now dropped onto your shoulder, but facing toward tara. so as he spoke, you and tara both assumed he was speaking to yourselves. (which was his intention)

he didn't think about his words as they spilled from his lips, eager to feel you both finish "'know you can cum for me together" his voice was lower, clearly more affected by his clothed dick against your thigh than he'd like to admit.

with an aggresive amount of sudden pressure to both your clits, he got his wish.

walls fluttering around his fingers, your head tilted back, a babble of noises that were meant to be words came strangled from your lips. the hand of yours that wasn't grabbing chris's sleeve reached over to find tara's free hand and grab it, which she happily held, squeezing your hand back with a breathless giggle as her own walls closed and convulsed on chris's knuckles too.

you became overwhelmed quickly, having already came once before this. chris caught on to this by the way your hand was sliding down his arm to his wrist, wordlessly grabbing it in warning. he observed the way your brows knitted together, lips puffing out when he slowly removed his fingers from your fluttering walls.

only seconds later he released his hand from between tara's thigh's too. before chris could process it, tara took his fingers drenched in her slick to her mouth, wrapping around them. his lips parted in a gentle gasp and you took the opportunity to guide his own fingers from his other hand to his lips, encouraging him to tase you as well.

he gladly complied. his blue eyes locked on yours as he sucked his own digits dry of your juices. once he released his fingers, tara realeased his from her mouth as well.

panting, your eyes raked chris in disbelief, this is when you saw the huge wet patch on chris's sweatpants. you giggled teasingly, tara clearly having observed the sight to because she was giggling right along with you, shaking her head as she said "noo way" tauntingly

chris's cheeks tinted a dark shade of red as he groaned "shut the fuck up" to both of you, clearly a little embarassed. his hands quickly found your hips to lift you off him onto the couch. he stood up, rushing to the bathroom.

you and tara both combusted into laughter, wheezing and smacking at each other due to laughing so hard as you watched him walk away, uncomfortably grabbing his crotch.

"i hate you guys!" grumbling like an angry kid he slammed the bathroom door shut.

"love you too!" both of you yelled back in unison to the bathroom door.

tara shuffled to face you as she began putting her clothes back on "okay it's just us, be honest, i was better right?" tara asked wish a raised eyebrow. you had to look away from her as you spoke your truth "you were great!" you responded enthusiastically to avoid the question.

tara knew what your avoidance meant. chris had 'won'.

tara gasped dramatically (mostly) pretending to be offended "girl! fuck you" she playfully shoved your arm as you both giggled, knowing it wasn't that serious.

and despite being 'quiet' (neither of you were.) chris had most certainly heard the conversation from the bathroom and was more than pleased to hear it.

not that he wouldn't have gladly fucked some sense into you another time but, still glad he'd proved his point.

he won.

thank you to everyone for being patient. i was having writers block so this took a longggg time to come out but i'm back on my shit so send more reqs!

tagsᥫ᭡: @mattsrod @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @pettydollie @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @fratbrochrisgf @eyelovedher89 @bernardsbendystraws @riversandwinds

[thinemoonshine]

୨♡୧ 𝓷𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝓫𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 >:( ˚｡⋆

enhypen 8th fem!member x enhypen ot7 content(s): members getting offended (jokingly), them being sulky and cute, (y/n) gets carried like a potato sack, lovesick ki type: oneshot(s) word count: 1.8k (~268 words for each)

this work is based of ૮꒰ྀིthis꒱ྀིა ask!

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚synopsis: (y/n) calls for the members by the wrong name and they take it more personally than she ever thought˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

“jake!”

heeseung hears their lone female member’s voice bounce within their corridor. he furrows but doesn’t look away from the game on his phone. ‘jake’s not here, though.’

“jake! sim jake!” she calls again and is followed by the rushed taps of the her feet against their floor, now in the living room. “jake! i’ve been calling you!”

hee furrows and twists his torso by the hip to look at the retreating girl. “i’m not jake.”

her own brows knit with confusion until she realizes. “heeseung! i meant you, heeseung.”

and heeseung isn’t exactly sure what it is, but the way she so casually called him by the name of another member rubs him off in the wrong way—like she wasn't actually searching for him but instead just settling. his lips jut subtly as he walks over to her. "you sure you meant to call for me?"

"um, yeah?" the girl responds, confused. "i just came out of jake's room to take my hair clips and my brain must've mixed things up."

the small pout on the other's face is still retained and she smiles, knowing why.

"i called for you because i wanted to play with your hair. since it's gotten longer, i have more material to work with," she tells with a sweet tone and this instantly perks him up—bringing her to the couch so she can play with his dyed locks.

still, he doesn't let the issue go—once in a while going "and me? how about me? what's my name?" like a parrot whenever she says another member's name.

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

a pair of arms slither around his waist from behind as he cooks and a soft smile stretches on his defined face.

"hoonie, what'chu doing?" she asks as she peeks from the side of his arm.

poof! the smile, gone.

"hoon?" he asks, brows knit as he spins in spot. her lips gape.

"ah. i meant, jongseongie~" she sings his name and blinks up at him, feigning innocence.

"since when does he cook?" jay asks, almost offended at her wrong addressment and she brings her hands to her back, avoiding eye contact. "i'm the chef. you do this to him too?"

his blatant jealousy makes her snicker and she shakes her head.

"nah," she claims with a wave of her hand as a grin plays on her lips, amused. "i only do this to you. you're the one feeding us, after all."

the scrunch on his face instantly fades as a content, almost smug grin makes its way to his face. "that's right. now, do you want the sauce spicy or sweet?"

"any. whatever you make will be good," she flatters, earning a scoff of satisfaction and he pats her head.

"let me guess, you want a dessert after?" he offers and she nods. "alright, i'll make lottssss of it, hm?"

"thanks, seongie!" she shoots finger hearts which elicits a tender chuckle and makes her way out the kitchen to meet the waiting jungwon and sunoo. the three exchange grins of mischief before high-fiving one another. "desserts have been secured."

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

“(y/n)!!” jake ebulliently greets when (y/n) arrives to their vacation house where they are to simultaneously rest after promotions and shoot episodes for en-o’clock. she, however, arrives later than the rest due to a separate schedule.

she reciprocates the energy—waving excitedly as she walks out to the backyard where he’s grilling their meat. “heeseung!”

his head snaps up from the grill, tongs frozen in his hand as he watches her run with his mien expressing mild puzzlement. “heeseung?”

“jake! sorry, teeny mistake,” she chuckles and raises her palms against the heat, searching for warmth during the chilly evening. “sunghoon said he’ll be joining soon. he’s waiting for jay to season the beef.”

“okay…” the other weakly responds with a pout on his lips. his gloomy tone isn’t overlooked by (y/n) who looks at him only to giggle at the sight.

she bends forward so that he’ll have to face her, which he does, and she ruffles his hair. “jake. sim jake. sim jaeyun. are you upset because i called you by the wrong name?”

“no,” he huffs, causing her to squint her eyes. she gets it. recently, she’s been spending less time with him and their special activity—as claimed by jake—of her playing with his hair is shared with the other members since they’re too, growing out their hair. it’s expected he’ll get upset.

she coos at his cuteness before raking her fingers through his bangs—combing them back to cool his forehead, much to his relief. “y’know, by far, your hair is my favourite. it’s so silky and fluffy, it’s the most fun to work with.”

he searches her face for any falsity but can’t resist breaking into a grin the moment she said it. “really?”

“why would i lie to you?” she assures and he’s suddenly all cheered up, even offering her the first bite of the beef with sparkly eyes anticipating praise. “it’s really good!”

“really? here, have another one.”

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

“i’m here to raid your fridge!!” (y/n) announces as soon as she arrives at the boys’ dorm. sunghoon chuckles as he stops in his tracks while passing by, arms open to welcome her. she beams—expecting him to still be out. “jungwon!!”

the moment the name rolls off her tongue, sunghoon’s dark, thick brow arches and she collides with his arms crossed against his chest instead of being wrapped by them.

“jungwon?” he echoes as she rubs her pained nose from the impact.

“yea—i meant sunghoon. it’s just that, usually jungwon greets me by the door,” she explains and hoon’s tongue pokes out his cheek, one canine peeking from below his lip. “where is he, anyways?”

her casual dismissal of him makes him purse his lips and he makes a sharp turn—continuing his way.

“i don’t know,” he grumbles, a soft frown worn and the girl watching him snickers with cognizance. just as he’s about to enter the corridor, a weight abruptly drops onto him from behind and he turns to be greeted by a playful (y/n)’s cheeky grin as her hands latch onto his broad shoulders.

“kidding! i’m just teasing you~ thanks for greeting me, hoon,” she sings, pacifying his little temper tantrum to which he scoffs at. but then, now it’s her turn to get teased—a shriek escaping her when he easily hoists her up onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

he flicks her forehead before spinning around. “you little sneak. you’re in trouble now since i won’t get dizzy no matter how long i do this.”

“yield! I YIEL—ACK!”

⋆˙𐙚 K.SUNOO 𐙚˙⋆

“riki-yah! where are you?” (y/n) calls from the living room before peeking her head out the sliding glass doors that lead to the pool. “riki!”

sunoo, who’s sitting in the shallow water while playing his phone, turns his head to her as she joins him. clad in her own shorts and shirt, she slaps the water surface which leads to him getting sprayed.

he screeches, instinctively covering himself before putting away his phone onto a dry ledge. “did you just call me riki?”

“did i?” (y/n) asks back, unaware, and he starts giggling with a hand on his mouth.

“ya! you’re an ahjumma or what?” he teases, voice nasally and eyes are in crescent shapes while pointing a finger at her. “even ahjummas are cooler.”

“hey!” (y/n) argues, slapping a larger volume of water onto him and he shrieks before reciprocating the gesture and soon, a water fight breaks out. “kim sunoo!”

her roar of anger elicits another thrilled shriek from him as he starts jumping away from her in the pool.

⋆˙𐙚 Y.JUNGWON 𐙚˙⋆

“sunoo, have you seen my headphones?”

jungwon looks up at (y/n) who’s standing in front of him on the couch. “huh?”

“my headphones.”

“you called me sunoo hyung. i’m not him,” jungwon corrects, brows knit and she lets out a little, “oh.”

“my bad, i meant you. so, have you seen it?”

“seen what?”

“my headphones??” (y/n) repeats, a bit irked now that won seems to be playing around, the ghost of a smile on his face a telltale sign.

he hums and crosses his arms with big gestures. “you didn’t ask me, though? you asked sunoo hyung.”

(y/n) deadpans at his silly little cheeky grin, one that showcases his dimples proudly, before she shakes her head and swivels on her heels.

the other snickers as his arms reach out to pull her by her sides, earning a squeak of surprise as she lands on his lap—a cute gesture, if only he isn’t practically crushing her bones and swaying her side to side like a rocky ship on the turbulent seas.

“you’re so cute!!” he says through gritted teeth, cuteness aggression spilling through and the girl blinks rapidly in attempt to stabilize her vision. “and yeah, i saw your headphones.”

“ooh! where?”

“…i may or may not be sitting on them right now.”

“WHAT.”

⋆˙𐙚 N.RIKI 𐙚˙⋆

even without seeing, he already knows (y/n) is near. his (y/n) senses are tingling and a knowing smirk stretches softly when he hears her rushing footsteps.

he spins just in time to have his cheeks cupped inside her warm hands as she excitedly greets.

“seongie!”

the swiftness in which his face falls challenges the speed of light. a subtle furrow makes its ways to his mien while his hands reach up to wrap around her wrists. “‘seongie?’”

her head tilts, briefly confused before it clicks. “oh! i meant riki~ ni-ki riki ding dong~”

even with her playful quip, his displeasure doesn’t recede and his lips subconsciously pout. she coos at the sight, only adding more depth to his frown.

“pouty face,” she teases and taps his jutted lips with a finger to which he quickly responds with rolling them in. “now come on. let’s watch your ‘artist of the month’ dance.”

riki lets himself be lead by her who effortlessly pulls him to the living room. he stares at the back of her head as he asks, “again? why do you like watching it so much?”

“why wouldn’t i? you’re so cool there.”

her unexpected praise releases butterflies in his stomach.

“cool? you think i’m cool?” he queries, a small smile appearing.

“who doesn’t?”

again, her words are smooth and laidback, holding not a single trace of hesitation and dishonesty—and it does things to his heart that’s starting to hyperventilate from its abrupt marathon. he harrumphs. “by the way, do you do that…to the hyungs…too?”

“what?” (y/n) queries as she seats him down onto the couch and arranging his legs to a comfy position like one would to a doll.

“the face-hold thing…” the other murmurs.

the other girl comprehends as she takes the space beside him and starts searching up for the aforementioned video on their TV. “ah, that. nah, just you—‘cause you’re younger than me.”

oh. just him.

oh.

he has the sudden urge to flap his legs, let out little ‘hihi’s’ and sigh dreamily as he bats his eyes at her, but he can’t. so he opts for turning his head away while biting back the grin that still prevails before whipping his head back to the screen.

“okay.”

the statement ‘younger than me,’ falls belatedly into his ears and the bubbling excitement shifts to a nervous thought. ‘wait, is that a good thing??’

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 doing this ask was so much fun!! tho i think i got carried off at some points... um!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please, do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[brackenfur]

i still think it should have been like. ashfur and brambleclaw were friends as apprentices - ashpaw was always showing him around, teaching him some more advanced apprentice things, talking all day every day and sleeping in the nest next to one another - until brindleface dies. and when bramblepaw goes to comfort his friend, walks across camp to tell him how sorry he is - ashpaw just. stares. at him until he walks away. and bramblepaw is like....well he's grieving, i need to give him space. i get it.

but it keeps happening. ashpaw wont talk to him anymore, barely looks at him. moves to the other side of the apprentices den and starts spending more time with thornpaw. and deep down, even as an apprentice - bramblepaw knows its because of tigerstar, even if firestar and his mother tell him it's not, that ashpaw is just in pain right now. fernpaw is still his friend, after all. but ashpaw is never as close to him anymore. and then they become warriors, and ashfur only exchanges a few words here and there with him, but it's never the same as it was. sorrelpaw and brightheart and others will be like "hey, what happened to you guys?" and brambleclaw knows the answer - he kinda thinks everyone does - but he just will shrug and say "i guess we just grew apart. it happens sometimes."

and the thing is - ashfur knows that it's not technically right to feel this way, that brambleclaw didnt actually do anything. but hes so angry, knowing what happened to his mother. how she died. how brambleclaw's father did that to her and everyone just goes on with life like brindleface wasnt even there. he just cant stop being angry, even if it's not a burning sort of rage anymore, more dull - he still just doesnt want to have anything to do with brambleclaw.

and then hawkfrost and mothwing suddenly are there, and ashfur gets this weird feeling when he sees hawkfrost at gatherings, sees how close he and brambleclaw are. he knows that squirrelflight and brambleclaw are friends - or something, who knows - and he casually just mentions it, just to see if she thinks its weird too. squirrelflight is so outspoken, after all - and bam, she thinks the exact same thing. she thinks hawkfrost is a little much, that there's something not quite right with him. that nothing good could come out of being close with him, and ashfur feels oddly seen. they start talking and hanging out more, squirrelflight doesnt want anything to do with brambleclaw either, and like-

bam. suddenly squirrelflight is on brambleclaw's side again. suddenly they're talking again and ashfur just cant stand it. it feels like hes the only one who sees that there's something wrong with brambleclaw, that brambleclaw is power hungry. that hes manipulative and that he's not safe to be around, but squirrelflight wont hear it. shes almost disgusted, really.

so he sets brambleclaw up - he uses hawkfrost, thinking it's kinda two birds with one stone - he was right about both of them, he thinks as hawkfrost all too eagerly decides to trap firestar in the foxtrap. and ashfur lingers behind just to see, just for proof, and he sees it: he sees brambleclaw hesitate. he sees the way brambleclaw's eyes flicker to the foxtrap, how he freezes up. he thought about doing it, about killing firestar.

and having ashfur be so self-righteous and feeling vindicated about it, and THATS why he hates brambleclaw/squirrelflight so much....i dunno man.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Tender Love

Idol Wooyoung x (F)Reader

Summary: His girl really was a work of art, knew all the ways to surprise him and make him feel loved.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.3K

Est. Read Time: 11 min

Warnings: 🚨PERVERT WOOYOUNG🚨, a lot of skinship (Nothing smexy tho)?

Rating: Mature

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'm so glad @edenesth kept this Woo pic for research purposes. Hey, ya'll should've seen it coming, we got a Sannie period fic- we were definitely going to get a Woo one too.

Wooyoung walked down the hallway to his room, humming to himself. Since he was alone in the dorm,he could practically walk around naked if he wanted to, not that he did, but he COULD. Anyway, he had just come back after a much-needed lap around the pool, he was alone and somewhat in pain, which is why he decided to follow the instructions of his physiotherapist. Swimming loosened his muscles, and helped with the aches as well, though the smell of the chlorine was the only thing he dreaded.

Opening the door of his bedroom, he walked in, took off his shirt and tossed it somewhere in the room, only for it to land on his bed. He was busy sifting through his cupboard when he froze, an uncharacteristic form of movement catching his eye, hands still stuffed in his closet, he watched from his peripheral, the lump of the blankets he had left on the bed this morning slithered closer to where his shirt was, a hand creeping out from under the covers, clawing at the cotton before snatching it and engulfing it. What the actual hell!?

Did someone break in? Does he call the manager? The sun-kissed skin male creeped closer to his bed, watching whatever was under the blanket move around, a faint whimpering muffled by the rustling of the sheets could be heard, the springs of his bed, creaking in the same horror that led the sweaty-palmed boy to grip the edge of the blanket with trembling fingers.

Maybe watching horror movies alone for a whole weekend was not a good idea. In reality, he had called over someone else too, but his usual company was busy, told him he'd have to spend the weekend alone, and he did, he spent Friday night alone, even Saturday night too- and look where that got him, facing the new monster that hid under his blanket, possibly a psycho stalker, a parasocial fan very much ready to kill-

"YAH!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, ripping the blanket off the intruder,and eliciting a scream from the intruder.

Standing there he blinked at her, not something he'd ever expect to see -not that he didn't welcome the sight, but it was...odd?

"Stop staring!" She hissed trying to quickly pull the shirt -his shirt- over her head, not sure if she was embarrassed because he had caught her half undressed in his blanket or because of her flashy pink bra- though she couldn't come up with an answer when he gripped her wrist, restraining her movement.

"Why have I never seen this before- have you been holding out on me!?" He screeched as she huffed, snatching her wrist out of his grasp and sitting up to push the shirt all the way down, ignoring his incessant whines and pleas.

"Don't be stupid, and hand me your sweatpants or something, I need to change out of my jeans."

"I'm not sure if I should be turned on, or concered by this strange behaviour."

"There is nothing sexy," grumbling she unbuttoned her pants, trying to kick them off, simultaneously kicking the blanket away as well, "About getting your period while sitting- ugh!" She grunted before letting out a whine, flopping on her back as she stared up at the ceiling in defeat, fine she'd just lay here, tangled in her jeans and his sheets, wearing his shirt, letting the cramps take over her, closing her eyes as she let out a sigh, "In the bus."

There was a moment of silence settled between the two, honestly she couldn't tell if he had left the room or was staring at her like a creep- wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter, she had realised she was dating a creep pretty early in the relationship. So why was she still with him? Cause he was an idol? Cause he was rich and good-looking? Cause he was famous? No.

Her lips quirked into a small smile, when she felt her jeans slowly peel off her legs, the blanket that was wrapped around her leg was gently pulled away, causing her to shiver slightly at the chill in the air, man he really liked to blast that AC on full. A pair of lips press faintly against hers, only for a moment, this is why she was still with him, her eyes opening to be graced by the face of an angel, a gentle smile, a chuckle ringing in her ears like a symphony she had been too woeful and in need of- because Jung Wooyoung, was perhaps the most caring, selfless and loving person she had ever met.

He hummed to himself, fingers caressing down her thigh to her knee, tapping her knee aimlessly before he walked over to his closet, going back to his original task. Though this time he managed to obtain the items required, humming his way across the room he turned on the small desk lamp, before turning off the bright light, knowing well how pain causes heightened sensitivity to light, and nothing was going to trigger his baby.

"You need help putting them on?" He asked, showing her the sweatpants, though his eyes never met hers, too focused on another part to notice her face-

"Woo?"

"Hmm?"

"Stop staring at my underwear-"

"You can't wear a set that hot and- wait." Frowning he knelt down, grabbing her ankle, about to lift her leg watching her pull the shirt down and pull her legs away, shaking her head at him, gesturing for the pants, "Why are you wearing such a set- no- why are you here!?"

Sighing she gently rolled off the bed, planting her feet on the cold ground, a hand reaching out to keep her balance, one that was gingerly accepted by his bigger one, smiling down at her when she looked up at him all doe eyed and confused, giving her the signature Wooyoung giggle, followed by a, "Don't worry, I got you baby."

Mumbling a thanks, she put on the pants quickly, hoping he couldn't see an inch of her pad, even for a second - not that he'd mind it, but it was embarrassing. With a sigh she sat back down, turning to look at him, as she began to speak, "Since I couldn't come during the weekend, because of stupid work, I wanted to make it up to you by surprising you today, but on my way here I got my period, " she mumbled, speaking much like how her lover had a while back, staring not at his face, but at the alluring tan expanse of his chest, eying the tattoo, she often wondered if it hurt while he got it done, "luckily I was wearing an emergency one...but I had to change as soon as I came here and I couldn't find you anyway and well, it hurt a lot and I saw your bed so...that's how you found me."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he moved closer to cup her face, angling her head up to meet her eyes, "My eyes are up here...you perv." He smirked, earning an eyeroll before he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, turning to leave, "I'll be back with a quick shower-" his words were cut short when she gripped his wrist, her nails leaving small crescents, as she looked up at him, "Stay."

"I smell like chlorine, love, I'll be back before you know it-"

"Please."

.

That's how Wooyoung found himself laying on his side, an arm lazily placed over her waist, the other folded and tucked under his head, while her finger outlined the tattoo on his chest, yes she had asked him to not put his shirt on, not for any perverse reason, mind you, she just liked how warm he was- that was all. He was the weird one, staring at her with an unsettling smile.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Her words were but a whisper, enough for something to tingle down his spine, an involuntary shiver causing him to press his fingertips against her lower back, causing her to let out a sigh at the pleasant pressure.

"That you were wearing something so hot, all for me."

"Oh my god," she sighed, "Yes, I, a grown woman who wanted to spend some quality time with my boyfriend, who till last notice was a fully grown man and not a horny teenager, wore something he'd like." Meeting his eyes she couldn't help but blush at the way he shamelessly stared at her, before his eyes turned into pleased crescents, crinkling at the ends due to the smile that stretched across his face- man, the things he'd do to her.

"Too bad it was ruined, though." Moving closer, she mumbled, pressing her face into his neck, hugging him closer, her fingers gently scratching the nape of his neck, tempted to trail lower to trace the ink.

"What are you talking about?" He sighed, basking in the attention; honestly he had assumed that he'd need to pamper her now, make her tea, bring her something to eat and end up massaging her back, a monthly ritual that he had introduced in their relationship, the first time he'd seen how she'd go pale in pain during the time of the month. What he did not expect however was for her to be all over him like this, perhaps a bit more touchy than he usually was, letting him feel every inch of her, mind you, not everywhere, she'd become as feral as a feline if he touched the no go areas during shark week, but having her pressing against him, tangled under his blanket, having her trail her lips up the column of his jaw, only to end up, pecking the tip of his nose, smiling at him all cute and flushed, with tinted cheeks and a crazy bedhead, on a Sunday evening, no, he did not expect this at all-

"Woo."

"Hmmm?" He asked, staring up at her, admiring the way the warm, dim light accentuated her beauty, fingers feeling her warmth under the cotton, giving it a little squeeze, earning a stutter in response, "W-when I said unclip it, I didn't mean have your way."

"Did they grow big-"

"Sometimes they swell up and become sensitive." She cut him off before pulling back, flopping down beside him as she skillfully took off the undesired, itchy and irritating pink garment he seemed to have liked so much, slipping it out from under the shirt and holding it up, glaring at it in disgust, though her partner next to her was still amazed by how women do this, more importantly he wanted to know more about the fact that he had just learnt, so he watched her toss it across his room, landing somewhere with a soft thud, not that he cared, no one was home so no one could barge in.

Turning to her side, she faced away from him, a soft sigh escaping her when he hugged her, pressing himself against her as he placed a leg on hers, the weight helping with the pain.

It was peaceful...for a good minute before his sneaky hand decided to "conduct an experiment for research purposes"-

"Stop!" She whined, pushing his hand away, huffing when he placed his chin on her shoulder, his cheek pressing against hers, "Does it hurt?"

"Somewhat, yeah!" She mumbled, ignoring him when he hummed seriously in return, her clown was clowning around and she didn't want to partake in his circus for the-

"JUNG WOOYOUNG!"

Her shriek was followed by a sharp smack, earning a whine from the man who pulled back and pouted at her all cute, "Why'd you do that." He asked, referring to the slap his hand had received as he gently rubbed over the stinging skin.

"Because I said no, you moron."

"It was for research purposes! For science! My hand wasn't even in your shirt!"

"I know how scientific you are, and how much you love your research, but unless you want me to leave-"

"No!" He gasped, pouncing at her, rolling them around on his bed causing her to laugh but also let out a whine, asking him to stop, only he did, but this time he was completely wrapped around her. His face buried in her shoulder, arms holding her close, his legs tangled with hers, both wrapped- trapped- in well, most of the bedsheets and blanket, god knows where the pillows were too.

"See, you can get all the love you want," she giggled, fingers carding through his hair as she tugged on it, making sure her grip wasn't hard enough to hurt him, but enough for him to tilt his head up and look at her "If you behave."

"You're very bossy for someone who came to give me her unconditional love."

"You're very touchy for someone who claims to treat his lover with care."

"I am treating you with care." He smiled at her, looking at her dead in the eye before he pressed his forehead against hers, the tip of his nose poking hers, causing her to raise a brow at him, though her heart began to beat like crazy, only leaving her to hope he couldn't hear the passion and admiration that flowed within her for him, "I'm treating you with all the care and," he whispered, his hand slowly maneuvered around her, placing it on the 'subject area', not that she noticed, she was too distracted by him, noting how his lips were barely a few inches away from hers, only to let out a whine when he finished his statement and gave her an experimental squeeze, "tender love."

Wooyoung learnt two things that night as he laughed through the pain, running out of the room -yelling about how he'd take a quick shower then get her something to eat- a hand pressed against his stinging cheek. Firstly, women tend to get all sensitive and tender all over during their period and secondly, his girl could swing like a champion, probably enough to break a jaw- he sure loved his strong, independent, sensitive lady, who would probably require more than just a nice meal to forgive him, perhaps a back rub, or more? Didn't matter, for Jung Wooyoung, lived to please his princess.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a

[cherubfae]

dunmeshi + crushing on a strong beast-like reader!

ft. laios, marcille, chilchuck, namari, mickbell, & kabru

tags: sfw, bit of blood/gore, alcohol consumption, gender neutral/ implied afab reader (use of they/them), reader wraps their chest!, reader is implied to be a canine-like beast but left ambiguous (wolf, fox, coyote, etc) lovedrunk and flustered babies, pre-established relationship, reader can be interpreted as a beast-man, magically altered being, were-beast, etc!!, they can turn into an actual beast

a/n: I flustered myself writing this lmao, clearly i do not have favorites whaaaa-- haha! it's good to be back. I hope all of you are well and you enjoy this fic!! kabru's got unintentionally longggg <3 -- noah

Laios

Holy crow!! You are so, so, amazing!! This man will watch in awe as you easily strike down your enemy with a single downstroke of your blade. It glides through the monster like butter, a gust of wind from the blow kicking up dirt and debris.

You scoff, nose twitching in disgust as you shake off the bits of blood and gore that cling to the sharp steel. Your eyes drift upwards, ears perking up at Laios's interest. Eyebrow lifting into your hairline in question.

"O-oh, ah, good job!" Laios sputters, a rosy hue coating his cheeks. Lips tilting into a slight smirk you nod in response. You give him a thumbs up, winking your eye playfully at the blonde.

"Happy to help! By the way, why're you all red?"

Laios gulped, "Ju-just kind of warm in here, y'know? M'okay." He tugs at the collar beneath his chest armor for effect, his golden gaze looking anywhere but down at you and your pretty smile. He absolutely doesn't want to fixate how the points of your fangs jut out ever so slightly from beneath your upper lip, and how much he would very much like to touch them.

Marcille

She's no better than a man, she's no better than a man, she's no better than a man--

Marcille, despite the shame that digs deep into her gut, cannot tear her eyes away from you as you wash away the soot and ash covering your arms. Your shirt had been torn by the blast of one her explosive spells, leaving your arms and a bit of your bare torso exposed.

Tracing the path your veins map out, Marcille swallows thickly. Your arms were defined with muscle, not too bulky. You had clearly worked hard to get where you are. A much more experienced and capable dungeon explorer.

"You alright, Marcy?" Your voice floats to her ears, making them twitch. Suddenly bursting into a panic, Marcille blubbers out a screech.

Floundering, she squeaks, "Ah! Yes!! I'm so sorry-- your shirt!! I can fix it!" She grasps her staff, crowding herself in front of you. You wave her off gently, patting her shoulder.

You grin, fangs poking out. "Nah, s'alright. Got another one in my pack." You turn your back to her, peeling off the remains of your shirt, adjusting the wraps around your chest and back before kneeling down to rummage in your rucksack for a new tunic. Marcille damn near passes out.

Chilchuck

Normally he hates being shoved out of the way and pushed around like he's some kid, but with the absolute onslaught you bring during fighting, he's glad to have you looking out for him!

You are so many things: strong, swift, quick on your feet, and can be incredibly brutal when you need to be. You aren't just a threat to an enemy you face, you are a promise. You see to it that any foe will not harm your party.

Chilchuck himself isn't immune to the way you seem to get a bit more feral when he is threatened."He-ey!! What are you--!" He can't stop the way his heart leaps into his throat. His surprised gasp cut short when you scoop him up into your arms, dodging a long bow arrow barreling towards him.

With ears ringing at the deep, low snarl rumbling in the back of your throat, Chil blinks owlishly. He follows your gaze to see living armor being taken down by Izutsumi. Sighing in relief, the halfling relaxes in your embrace. He is incredibly lucky to have you looking out for him! Glancing up at you, his face explodes into a red glow upon seeing your tender gaze already transfixed on him.

Yeah, you might end up being the death of him.

Namari

A person after her own heart!! She revels in the rush of adrenaline that courses through her veins when she takes down an enemy, but you're even a step further than her!

Not only are you strong but you are an amazing asset to the team! You're incredibly versatile with weapons: axes, swords, lances, daggers, bows-- you name it! But what's really killer about you are your claws and teeth! How you can turn into an actual beast when angered enough, determined to fight for those you love. Namari has never met someone quite as unique as yourself. She just wished you weren't in Laios's party, but in hers.

You are immaculate, Namari thinks. She can't help but stare at you from across the bar, watching with an immense yearning as you laugh heartily with Laios and Marcille throwing your pints of ale up in a toast.

"Why don't you go talk to them? O-oh shit, here they come!" Chilchuck slurs from behind his own pint, cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol. Namari sighs, too buried in her own thoughts to register her friend's words. Setting down her cup fingers sliding along the lip of the glass. She clumsily reaches over for the pitcher, gasping as it nearly tumbles off the edge of the table. You catch it with ease, smiling with that same kind smile she loved.

Pulling up a stool, you settle down besides the two on the opposite end. Smiling, you refill your friend's drinks before filling up your own tumbler once more. Chilchuck downs his drink in one go, hiccupping softly. Folding his arms in front of him, he rests his head atop them for a quick snooze.

Snickering, your gaze turns to Namari, who suddenly feels like she's sobering up at a rapid pace. You're absolutely beautiful in the orange glow and warmth of the tavern. Drowning out the sound of the drunkards, she can barely focus on the words you're saying, her eyes going cross-eyed as she tries to read your lips.

"Let's get you home, Namari. I think you need some sleep." You gently muse, standing from your stool. Waving over your shoulder at Laios, you help Namari up, leaning her against your body. Marcille lifts Chilchuck up onto her back like a rucksack, despite his protests he ultimately relented. (They totally bickered like a teen daughter and her middle-aged father about wanting to stay five more minutes)

The night air was cool against your flushed skin. Namari shudders, tucking her chin and nose beneath the wool collar of her shirt, pressing herself closer to you and your warmth. Her hand slides carefully into yours, wobbly smiling when you lightly squeeze her hand. Even in her drunken stupor, she can't fight the awe of how easily you sway her stubborn heart.

Mickbell

If Kuro isn't the first to rush to Mickbell's aid, it's you instead. The more you help rescue him, the more he will start to rely on you, so don't you slack off!!

Mick gets an absolute kick out of watching you blast any sort of enemy away with your strength and he'd never admit out loud how much he enjoys the view, especially if you're defending him.<3 it makes him feel all giddy when you swoop in and save him.

Today was no different than before. A morgue of ghosts swarm the immediate area, dropping the temperature down a few levels. Accompanying the specters, is a lone basilisk. It's dual heads watching Mickbell like a lion on a hunt. Warm puffs of breath cling to the air as Kabru readies his sword, Holm making his way to the opposite end of the basilisk, a jar of holy water in his hands.

The basilisk lets out an ungodly shriek and surges forward. Knocking Mickbell back, you press your body over his, effectively becoming a shield over him. You're snarling, teeth exposed with intent to bite. Mick curls his hands against your tunic, eyes squeezing tight and prepares for impact.

"Now Holm!" Kabru slices downwards as Holm slices upwards, decapitating both heads. Mumuring a silent spell, Holm swirls the jar of holy water around like a lasso, shooing away the ghosts.

Gently prying Mick's hands from your shirt, you place a warm palm to his chilled cheek. His downcast green eyes open immediately, and he throws himself into your embrace, winding his arms around your neck. "Gaaah!! That was so scary!!" Over your shoulder, you miss how Mickbell gives Kuro a cheeky grin and a thumbs up.

Kabru

He has met all sorts of travelers and merchants and dungeon experts. While Laios is one that perplexes him, Kabru's curiosity in you reaches a certain level of fondness he isn't quite equipped to deal with. He knows he will be able to rely on you in the heat of battle at any given time. Your strength is plentiful, but even you have your limits.

"Does it still hurt?" Kabru softly asked. He sits beside you on the stone floor, shuddering at the slight chill that seeps in through his clothing. You lift your gaze to him, blinking slow. Kabru notes how your pupils dilate ever so slightly when you face him, something he feels hopeful for. You return your attention to the wound on your leg neatly wrapped in bandages-- a direwolf bite.

Giving a noncommittal shrug, you finish your handiwork, setting the bloodied old bandages ablaze. "I've had worse. If the wolf had broken my bones, that'd be another story. I don't want Rinsha wasting her mana on me. I can keep up just fine, I won't slow us down."

Kabru takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger softly, forcing you to look at him. "I didn't ask if you could keep up, I asked if it still hurt. You got hurt because you saved me from that direwolf, I've failed you." There's a tenderness in his azure stare.

"It hurts a bit," you whisper, unable to glance away. "You never fail me, Kabru." You smile. Kabru looses a small breath.

"I won't let that happen again. You have my word." For a moment, the world stills and the two of you find yourself leaning in. You can feel his warm breath on your lips, hyperaware of his large palm sliding down your arm to rest on your waist. Your hands slid to the front of his tunic, curling your knuckles into the fabric. He gasps softly when you tug him to you, lips almost touching when--

"HEY KABRU!" The shrill voice of Mickbell jerks the two of you apart. You gasp sharply as your leg knocks into the adjacent stone wall. Kabru is instantly at your side fretting over you.

Mickbell stares you two down from the doorway at opposite end of the room, mouth drawn into a confused expression. "Uhh, hey. Just wanted to know what's for dinner. You two good? Why do you look so red?" He shrugs his shoulders half a second later, deciding he really didn't care to know the answer. Wiggling himself between the two of you, Mickbell sighs and folds his arms back behind his head with closed eyes; completely oblivious to the shared flustered looks you and Kabru are sending one another.

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

[poistura]

HE WAS A PUNK, SHE DID BALLET

pairings. nonidol!hyungline x fem!reader in which. reader’s perfect and calm life has been completely turned upside down since she met her boyfriend wc. 1.5K warnings. enha are basically troublemakers lol, climbing a window in hee’s one, jake’s one is HEAVILY inspired by a gilmore girls episode, mentions of fights and bruises, not proofread genre. fluff ( link to masterlist )

author’s note wrote this while listening to sk8er boy by avril lavigne and i love her that’s it, jay’s one is a bit short i’m sorry 💔 also!! maknae line’s one is coming soon 🫧

𝐋. heeseung

you were seated at your desk in your room, so engrossed on studying your books, that the sound of tapping on the window almost made you flinch.

turning around to the place the sound came from, you see him. he smirks slyly, causing you to sigh and get up, opening the window “you know, you could’ve used the front door”, heeseung climbs in “i figured your parents wouldn’t be really pleased to see me” he says as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“plus, this is way more charming than using the front door, is it?” that sentence made you chuckle “oh sure, prince charming. i really want to watch you climb down from my window now”. heeseung gulps “well, i’ll worry about it after i get to cuddle you, angel” he says with a smile before attacking your face with soft pecks, making you giggle.

it was really true that heeseung was soft and caring on the inside, but you seemed to make him melt way more often than he was used to, not like he was complaining about it anyways.

“what are you studying?” “biology” heeseung scoffs “you really have to spend your night studying something as dull as biology?” you roll your eyes playfully “at least i do study, i suggest you to try it, that would be good for you” he just simply shrugs playfully and pinches your waist, making you let out a soft giggle.

despite claiming that studying is the most monotonous thing you could ever do on a thursday night, heeseung finds himself sitting with you, listening to you revise the subject, but both of you know he’s not even paying attention to anything you’re saying, he doesn’t care at all. what he’s paying attention to, is the way your eyes look up while thinking of a term, the way your hands move to emphasize your speech and the soft hums you let out while thinking of the material you studied earlier.

actually, maybe heeseung was wrong, maybe this was the best way he could spend his thursday night.

𝐏. jongseong

you watched as your boyfriend played you his self-written songs on his guitar, feeling happy to be in his presence and to be the only girl who could have the pleasure to listen to those sweet songs he wrote for you. “what do you think?”, you smile softly “it’s really great; i love it”.

the faint blush on your boyfriend’s cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. “hey, can i try too?” you ask him and he looks at you surprised “the great violinist wants to play something as edgy as the electric guitar?” you roll your eyes playfully “worried i’ll be better than you?”.

jay grins and pats the empty space between his legs, handing you the guitar and guiding you through the notes “put your finger here, here and here” he says as he gently moves your fingers on the strings. your heartbeat started to quicken as he was impossibly close to you and touched your fingers delicately “give it a try, chopin” he teases as you try to play the new instrument.

after a few tries, you manage to let out a few neat notes from the instrument, eliciting a proud smile from your boyfriend “wow chopin”, you chuckle “jay, chopin is a pianist” “same thing”. you both let out a few giggles before he pecks your temple and smiles softly at you “if you learn how to play the guitar, i can’t surprise you with my serenades anymore”, you chuckle softly “well, i think my mom would be glad to not hear you play at 1am, but maybe i could serenade you too sometimes”.

jay smiles and softly pecks your lips “yea, i’d like some classical operas being played for me at 1am”

𝐒. jaeyun

you would’ve never thought to see your boyfriend all dolled up to take you to your highschool’s dance for a charity event. you insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, and you weren’t even enthusiastic about going to that dance, but your boyfriend insisted on being a good boyfriend (aka, showing you off to everyone) and decided it was important for you to attend since you were one of the top students at the school.

you arrived at the dance with jake, and calling it boring would be an understatement.

you two were sitting by a table, “jake we can leave if you’re not having fun” you said, as you knew your boyfriend wasn’t used to these boring formal events.

“don’t worry baby, i enjoy spending time with you nonetheless. plus, the food is great!” you let out a chuckle at his statement.

“i’ll go get us something to drink, how about that?” you smile at your boyfriend’s idea “alright, don’t take too long”.

he smiled before he got up and headed to get you something to drink. as you were waiting for him, a boy from your biology class approached you, teasing you like he always does.

“where’s your little boyfriend, uh? don’t tell me you came by yourself” he grins and you roll your eyes “getting me a drink, if you really want to know”. the boy looks slightly surprised at your statement “oh really? i bet he’s a punk, you could’ve said yes when i asked you to come with me, at least you would’ve been seen with someone relevant”.

just like clock work, your boyfriend arrived and wrapped an arm around your waist. the guy eyes him up and down “you must be the punk boyfriend”, jake grits his teeth and turns to you “is he bothering you, babe?” “pfft, she’s delighted by my presence”. jake raises an eyebrow and turns his gaze back to the boy “uh, really?”.

you were already preparing yourself as you knew your boyfriend, and you knew things would’ve escalated quickly. by the end of the night, you were sitting in jake’s car, treating the wounds and scars he got on his face after a not-so-friendly conversation with that boy.

“i’m sorry i got carried away”you give him a small smile “it’s alright, i’m glad you punched him. he’s annoying” “i figured you weren’t really delighted to talk to him”, you both let out a chuckle.

“hey, are you up for a frozen yogurt?” he asks, you reply with a huge smile “of course! but… maybe it’s better if you stay in the car and i go get them”. he lets out a chuckle “alright boss”

𝐏. sunghoon

“babe! what’s taking you so long?” you yell from your room, sunghoon is in the bathroom, getting ready for a dinner you insisted on having with your parents to prove them he’s perfectly fine for you. he was nervous, he probably hasn’t felt more nervous in his life, what if they ask him about his life? he can’t tell them how reckless he is, they would’ve never thought he could be perfect for you. he finally sighs before taking a last glance at the mirror “i’m coming!”.

the dinner was silent to say the least, your mother cleared her throat to escape from the awkward moment “so sunghoon, do you have any hobbies?”. sunghoon gulps “uhm… i like working out, you know, to keep myself healthy”, her mother hums, her expression unreadable.

in the meantime, you were crossing your fingers under the table, hoping the dinner would go smoothly and your parents would approve of him, considering how they’ve always considered you as a perfect child in every field.

your father asks the question both of you hoped he’d never ask, “do you study? or work?”. sunghoon starts sweating “i… i don’t work yet, sir. but, i’m looking for a job”. your father slightly scoffs and tears his gaze away from the boy, looking back at his plate and mumbling something under his breath.

the dinner luckily comes to an end, and neither you nor sunghoon were proud of how it went out.

he noticed your disappointed face, and before you two could leave and greet goodbye to your parents, he turned to them one last time “uhm… i’m sorry if i’m not exactly how you hoped i’d be, i know i might be far from the kind of person you wanted your daughter to be with, but i love her. i might not be the best and i might not provide her with everything she needs, but i love her and… and i’m here for her everytime she needs me. i want to support her in everything she does, even though i know i could never be enough for her”. his words made your heart melt, and your parents’ expression slightly shifted.

as you were getting ready to leave, your mother spoke up “we hope to see you again, sunghoon”, his eyes immediately lit up “i hope so too, mrs y/l/n. thank you”. your father gives him a nod of approval before you two left, hand in hand, and extremely proud of how the dinner turned out.

© POISTURA 🐋

[yanderenightmare]

Okkotsu Yuta

TW: nsfw, noncon, bullying

fem reader

Thinking about the major power trip Yuuta went through once he figured out how to control his cursed energy. 

Here’s this loser who’s been bullied all throughout middle school for being such a loner, who suddenly gains unlimited and unsupervised power to do whatever he wants. And he’s never once stood up for himself out of fear that Rika would take it too far—but now he’s fully in control and free to do all those things he’s been too scared to do.

You used to be one of those bullies back in middle school—one of those pretty girls who would laugh and sneer at him while other goons would do their worst of swirlies and wedgies and gut punches. He hasn’t seen you in years, but there hasn’t been a day he hasn’t thought about you. Old, twisted emotions of hatred and want brewing in the darkest pits of his gut. He can still remember that evil look of glee in your eyes each time you’d say or do something horrid.

He wonders if he has that same awful look in his eyes now as he stands over you—terrified, lying in his bed with your hands and feet tied.

He doesn’t even remember how he got you there. He must have blacked out completely, and yet, the knots of rope are tied so neatly he must have known what he was doing.

And oh, you're just as pretty as he remember. Even prettier now.

You’re in what you wore to bed—a pair of panties and a little crop top. He’s actually never seen a girl so bare before—only two flimsy articles away from being naked. It makes him blush—big and dour-eyed, scanning every curve of your smooth skin.

Your mouth’s taped shut—he isn’t interested in anything you’d have to say. But he’s left your eyes. He can’t tell if you recognize him—he hopes you do. But the fear within them is enough to make him feel so good he’s never been harder in his entire life.

Still, he doesn’t know if he can go through with it. Now that he has you here. It’s a strange feeling—how your shivering and tears make him feel both ashamed and yet so very horny he might cum in his pants just from looking at you. 

He thinks of you in middle school—what an absolute bitch you were—all your mean words and hard glares, ugly comments whispered in your friend’s ear while looking down on him, giggling behind a hand as if it were some big secret you were talking shit—as if you hadn’t just poured rotten milk over his head in front of everyone.

Yeah… you deserve this.

You try worming away from him once he crawls on top of you, but the way he’s tied you makes it a pointless struggle. It should make him feel worse, but oddly enough, it just makes him want to touch you more. And your skin is so soft it gives him chills, manhandling you just the way he sees fit. 

It seems crazy to him that something with teeth as sharp as yours can also look like the sweetest thing in the world. To anyone else, he must look like the bad guy. But he knows, and you know—you’re no victim.

With your hands tucked under your back, you’re completely pinned beneath him as he straddles your legs. You whine, but he pays you no mind—carefully lifting your top up.

His body sags with a sigh at the sight. They’re even more perfect than he’d dreamed, and they feel even better in his hands—soft and squeezable.

It’s so fucked up—you have the ugliest personality he knows, and yet you're the prettiest girl he can think of. He hates you, and yet you’re the only one he wants.

He bends down and wraps his mouth around your nipple—it’s perky and warm and makes him groan with a shudder—rocking his clothed bulge into your mound with a string of moans.

He can’t believe your pussy is just a thin little layer of cotton away—waiting for him just beneath a pink print of cartoon bunnies. He doesn't know why, but he really likes that more than the black lace he’d expected you'd wear. 

Suppose it makes you fit the role more—his prey.

Just knowing he’s going to fuck you makes him feel like the most powerful guy in the world. He wants to make you cum until you can’t even remember your own name. He wonders if you’re a virgin, too, but he doubts it.

“I’ve seen you had so many tongues down your throat, it wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve had dick just as much.”

But that’s okay. He’s going to make sure this time is special. 

His body drapes yours with all its weight as endless thoughts of what he’s going to do to you flood his head. He moans, making drool spill over your chest where his mouth covets your breast while he keeps rutting his bulge into you—he’ll make you feel so good you fall in love with him.

And it’s sad how the thought alone instantly makes his boxers fill with stickiness.

And it’s only sadder as the post-nut-clarity hits because he’s left with a heavy feeling of grief of not having filled your womb instead. 

♡ OKKOTSU YUUTA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[elllisaaa]

Oh god this feels so weird writing LMAOAO but when u put ur hand in front of ur vajayjay during seggs

omgggg I'm literally so fucking dumb I'm so sorry anonie 😭 you're an angel for expliciting this to my slow brain 🙏 (and the thoughts I'm having about this are actually funny so here we go 🤭

HEESEUNG would honestly just blankly stare at your hand for a few seconds, before actually asking you what you were doing. and you better have a good reason because he wants to stare at your pretty cunt swallowing him whole while he's fucking you. he loves to see how much he's stretching you, how wet you get with each thrust. as soon as he's sure you're alright, he's fucking you even harder with a smirk on his face.

"aah, don't hide your pretty pussy from me, baby, i wanna see how greedy you are for my cock."

JAY is such a sweetheart, he would instantly stop thrusting into you and ask you if everything is alright. we love a caring king like him, he's honestly so kind it makes me wanna throw up. he would move your hair away from your face, kiss your forehead and hold your hand. whatever the reason why did that is, he will be soo careful after that, literally making love to you even if he was ruining you seconds before because your comfort is what he's putting first.

"does it feel good princess ? tell me everything you want."

JAKE doesn't notice right away, too focused on the feeling of you clenching around him. but once he sees your hand down there, he kind of panics, like hard. his eyes go wide and his heart starts to beat even faster because of his anxiety. he's immediately all over you, asking you if he hurt you in any way or if you need a break. once he knows what the reason for your behaviour is, he's all for reassuring you and making love to you so passionately it's actually sickening.

"fuck... you feel so good, pretty. i can never get enough of you."

SUNGHOON is hyper-aware of your reactions during sex because he knows that he has a tendency to become too rough sometimes. so he immediately notices when your hand goes down there, and he throws you a questioning look while he slows down his thrusts a little. but the two of you have a safe word, and as long as you don't use it, sunghoon is not stopping. he knows that you can sometimes be self-conscious about you body, so he always makes sure to comfort you, even when he's ruining you.

"no need to hide it, darling, i have your pussy engraved in my mind."

[hoshiina]

pairing: narumi gen x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he's always thought that anyone would do if he just wanted to find love but he realizes you're the one he wishes for, inspired by pop song by yonezu kenshi

warnings: some profanities from narumi

wc: 1300

Narumi Gen hated a lot of things, but one of his least favourites of all time was "true love". He despised when people would describe their love for another as "true love". It couldn't possibly be that serious. Just say you loved your partner. That was probably the extent feelings got to anyways— you just so happened to like each other at the same time. To him that was plenty of a feat alone, why would you have to make it sound like more than it is? For the sake of love? Ridiculous.

To him, that was truly all love was. If there was someone who liked him when he happened to like them too, that was enough. No need for years of pining, no need to get attached to some unrequited love. All that noise about love and destiny surely wasn't all that necessary.

Now, this wasn't to say that he didn't wish to find love— because he did. Like any other person, he truly wished to be loved. It was just that what he had in mind wasn't some deep pure love that'd last forever, nor was it a promise for eternity. He just wished for a light-hearted "I love you" here and there with someone he found special.

And for that, anyone would do. He'd find someone who fancied him along the way, and hopefully he'd like them back. That was all there was to it.

This meant his plan for finding his partner was sitting around and waiting. As horribly lame as that sounded, because he was Narumi Gen, this wasn't that hopeless of a plan. So, that's what he did. He'd go around saving people and doing his duties (to the absolute bare minimum) while making sure he was constantly trending, hoping that one day, someone would like him.

Today he was standing around for a solid five extra minutes after he defeated the honju with ease, hoping the media would snap some nice pictures of him, or he'd finally charm someone this time.

"Captain, you ought to stop that," you said. "It's rather embarrassing, you look desperate now."

"Oh, would you shut up," he said. "You're ruining my good name!"

You snorted. "What good name," you scoffed.

"I'm starting to think its your fault I'm not charming anyone. Perhaps if you didn't stop me every time, someone would have found me by now," he said.

"Yeah, right. Captain Ashiro seems to be having no issues charming people and I've never seen her try to," you said.

"You little shit," he said.

"Besides they're going to be utterly disappointed if they think this is what you're like and then they find out what you're… actually like," you said, and he was starting to think you wanted him to fire you. "It's okay. Someone will see how you're actually lovely at times soon."

"What?" he asked, shocked by what you said.

"What?" you replied, confused.

"You— you said lovely," he said quietly. Suddenly he felt flustered.

"Oh," you said, looking away and avoiding eye contact. It wasn't like you didn't mean to say that, but you didn't think it was that big of a deal. Rather, how flustered he sounded took you by surprise. “Well, you’re a little lame but you’re a good guy. Like you pretend you only do it for the media, but I know you’re always checking the alleyways that don’t have as much surveillance just in case, and checking alleyways isn’t something a captain has to do. And we both know the media isn’t writing about anything you do there. Things like that.”

“You never know!” he said, and you snorted.

“Alright then,” you said. “You do you, Captain.”

“I will!” he said back, trying to sound proud.

A week had passed and here he was, doing what he always did after arriving fashionably late to the scene and taking all the kaiju out in a matter of minutes: standing around trying to look good. Because he wanted love, and anyone would do. Anyone who liked him was supposed to do.

...

And yet he wished for you.

He wished that when he woke up, the first thing he would see was you. He wished that you'd smile at him everyday with love and genuine joy the way you did to others, and he wished that you’d smile that way to him alone. He wished that after a long day, he was the one you came home to. He wished from the bottom of his heart that you would always be safe and no harm would ever come your way. He wished that your days were filled with laughter and smiles and he knew he would risk his life to protect that.

It was so unlike him in a way he absolutely hated. True love was supposed to be nonsense and someone being ‘the one’ was supposed to be some dramatic line in a movie. It upset him, that he was so utterly fond of you. Yet, no matter how much it upset him, it didn't change the fact that he was, and he couldn't deny it anymore after trying to ignore it for the full week.

So here he was, acting stupid again, hoping that you’d scold him again or tell him he’s embarrassing himself, because that’s what it’s come down to. He just wanted another reason to talk to you.

But you wouldn’t come to stop him after 10 whole minutes.

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” he asked, irritated.

“Pardon?” you asked, utterly confused.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop?” he asked again. He was aware how silly he sounded, but he was pissed off that you meant so much to him so he had to take it out on you.

“Because you told me to stop last time??” you replied. “I thought you were going to keep this up until you found yourself a partner.”

“You’re the one who told me to find someone that saw how I was…. lovely…. at times,” he said, but said the lovely very quietly. Remembering that you had described him as lovely made his cheeks burn and he’d rather die than let you see that.

“I mean, yeah. I do think you should,” you said.

“Don’t you notice, though?” he asked quietly, avoiding eye contact. There was a moment of silence.

“I do,” you said, and immediately he looked up to face you. You had a grin on your face and you looked so proud— you looked like you had won a game. Oh, how he hated you.

“You’re so annoying,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Rich coming from you,” you said.

“So, do you—,” he started to yell before cutting himself off. Carefully, he tried again. “Would you please… uh��� be mine…?”

Oh, this is so embarrassing, he thought. Perhaps you’d laugh at him, but he wanted to do this properly, or at the very least try to. He’d be far more than just stupid to mess this up now. He was finally in love.

But your laughter never came. When he looked up your eyes were wide and you looked so flustered, but soon you had the most beautiful smile on your face.

“I would absolutely love to,” you said.

So he kissed you right then and there, because there was nothing he wanted to do more at the moment.

He laughed a little.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“No, nothing,” he said.

There was no way just anyone would do— it had to be you.

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Let's Eat!

(That is, let's live, want, connect... oh, you know what I mean by now)

I like how Yaad and the other living villagers can casually talk with the ghosts, because for all intents and purposes they were also ghosts... In fact, those who stayed and spent centuries going through the patterns of life even though all true meaning had been lost long ago were MORE "ghosts" than those who lost their corporeal forms because they wanted to escape so badly that they went wandering... That's so fuckin' good. I wanna eat this writing.

.

Kabru just randomly walking out of the bushes the second Laios starts considering politics...love him. He was summoned. His PR spidey senses were going off.

.

look at my boy, establishing his own authority.

.

Lol this was me when we moved house last month, and my job was to just stand in the new living room and tell people where to put which box or piece of furniture. It's an important job in a task with a lot of people!

.

FUCK YEAH, THAT'S MY MAN! HE LOOKS GREAT!

.

fucking love the trope of "one savvy friend in the crowd who deliberately gets a supportive chant going." Of course it's Kabru.

Though it's important to note that the first thing someone called was, "The demon-eater's here!", and there was muttering while no one was entirely sure if that was a good thing or not... Kabru didn't start the rumble of the crowd; the rumble of the crowd is unavoidable, and you have to be aware of that. Laios has always been aware of that, he's just never known what to do about it, and so tried to avoid it. But he's not avoiding it anymore - so Kabru started the hype of the crowd.

.

They're both right! In order to eat, you need to kill! A memento of a meal IS a spoil of war!

.

They're unhappy bros... /laughing

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Shown: man desperately reassuring himself, and psyching himself up to eat this stupid dragon meat

.

DADCHUCK. Istg my father has said the same thing to me.

p.s. oh thank god he's fully dressed again. it was indecent.

.

Marcille is so resigned to this, and so...determined to see it as her own choice. "We all agreed", "I've got to go" - and I'm sure she does see it as her own choice, in a way, because this is how the world has always worked and she knows that. She knew that going in. Those who do ancient magic are arrested by the Elves of the West, that's just the "natural" consequence. She might've gotten away with it if she'd gone undiscovered, or if she'd stayed in the dungeon forever, but she didn't - she chose to pursue her craft, to save Falin, and to do everything after that, too, and so she implicitly chose the consequence with it. If it's unfair, well, thinking that changes nothing, so it's better not to think it.

Until Laios is like, "Actually, I might have political power now? And I'm SO goddamn tired of myself and people I love being punished just for being different, and interested in unconventional things. Let's try something."

.

WELL-FUCKING-PLAYED! GET THEIR ASSES, LAIOS! It's especially great because I'm pretty sure he knows the answers to all of this by now? Power move!

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Is she sitting there completely nude except for jewelry and a short robe. Icons only, honestly. Though "we have the luxury of time" feels like so much of a threat from an elf.

.

Hey, you did objectively defeat him! Okay arguably the Lion did but Laios did it first, he just also then talked to him, and got grabbed by friendly vine-tentacles. You didn't kill him, but that's not what Delgal asked for anyway!

.

thinking about that post that observed that Thistle's driving madness was specifically getting Delgal home for dinner, to eat all together as a family again, and he wakes up to the sound of the people of the Golden Kingdom eagerly inviting the (new) king to eat, and him responding...crying... What is lost is lost, but life will go on.

.

The moment when a character decides to lie to another character for their own good is always so compelling. The little moral quandary microcosm.

.

So Yaad did know something of what passed between Delgal and Thistle, that drove Thistle down the path to dark magic. He know what it was his grandfather blamed himself for.

This is SUCH A GOOD AND QUIET-SAD DEATH SCENE, but as a consummate fan of 'actually, living is much much harder than dying, and much more interesting too', I do like to think Thistle lives and has to...figure out what to do with his life. And that 'what to do with his life' ends up including ancient magic mad science with Marcille.

...But honestly, even though that'd be fun for me, it seems almost cruel to Thistle. He's been alive for so long. Those he loved most are gone. He held the demon back from the surface, trapped in those books, for so long, even if it was in no way whatsoever with the good of the world in mind. If anyone deserves this peaceful death in (what he thinks are) his brother's forgiving arms, it's him.

.

Unfortunately, my love, as has been ceaselessly proven in this story: that's life.

.

Marcille has caught onto one of the major themes! However, this story still isn't in favor of afternoon special Moral of the Story - not of letting the characters wrap things up with a bow, at least. You just go on living and wanting and learning about and connecting with and killing new things, forever! That's how it goes! You never know everything and you're always a little bit starving!

.

I really love this grumpy old man, and I want him to stick around and be one of Laios's advisors. He's an old gnome, he'll die as soon as an average tallman would anyway.

.

This is a) very touching coming from Mithrun, who is only just regaining his own will to live, and b) almost tautalogical in this story EXCEPT that it is also clear that merely "wanting" doesn't mean you get to continue to live, it only means that you're alive in this moment - you also need to want to live MORE than whatever's trying to kill you wants to live.

.

GREAT VISUALS!

.

And then it's so small, so small that she could leave it behind entirely but Falin is still so kind that she picks it up anyway! Falin who looks at everyone and everything - ghosts and brothers and mad mages and dead dragons, the latter of whom were both violently oppressing her soul - and thinkgs "I gotta help." She's so good!

I'm really going to need to write a like 2k post-canon character study about how Falin has part of the spirit of a dragon in her chest which unfurls while she travels abroad and curls up again and hides when she's home with Marcille and especially with Laios, and how it's a metaphor for her own independence but also literally there is the spirit of a dragon. At the end of it she figures out how to nurture and commune with the dragon enough to have her own flight-capable wings.

.

THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL-LOOKING. AUTOPHAGIC SELF-CREATION FOR THE FUCKING WIN!!

.

YYEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

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fuck it, have a collage, because this bitch-ass website is about to cut off my photos-per-post. It can't HANDLE the sheet joy of Falin resurrection reunion hugs!!

.

so many people love her, or at least are really emotionally invested in this now!! /sobs

.

Lmaoooo

Laios: wracked with food poisoning because he ate raw walking mushroom Falin: great distress! Marcille: trying very hard to help, also thinking sooo hard that He Is An Idiot. [btw I love how it looks like she takes up holding her hair back with a band] Kabru: having his weekly moment, as he has for the past many years and will continue to have until he dies, of wondering if he shouldn't really have just killed this guy rather than let him become king

Kabru definitely wrote this whole ending narration btw. This is his press release from like 40 years in the future. And those kids! An orc kid and a kobold kid, and zooming out to show kids of other races, all playing together and going to lunch together!!

And then they all lived, and hungered and ate and killed and wanted and sought understanding and connected with one another and were part of the great circle of life, as happily ever after as one can get.

This story truly was delicious...in dungeon!

[oh-allie]

and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like...

dr ratio x fem!reader

(sorry if hes ooc i didnt know how to bring out his assholeyness on a first date withour having the reader standing up and leaving his ass)

pt. 2 of then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two

four days before the date.

you made veritas feel icky. his sweaty palms disgusted him, his jumbled thoughts made him feel like hiding in his study and never leaving, and the way even thinking of you made his heart race made him feel like a fool.

so he did what he does best, and he studied. he worked his ass off. researched breathing exercises and studied the human mind. the feelings he'd read about before, ones he swore he'd never stoop so low to feeling, were now what he seeked to bottle up. not completely, for he is still a man. just enough to not feel like such an idiot.

for the next four days before you two planned to meet, he practiced. in front of mirrors, lying in bed thinking of you; he worked day and night to get back to his normal self. he even suppressed his giddiness and raging thoughts about you enough to get two good days of work in.

7 hours before the date.

ratio is a methodical man. he plans and he executes.

he did not plan to wake up at 3 in the morning the day of your date. and he can’t get back to sleep. he's done his calming breathing exercises, he’s focused his muscle groups, hes counted sheep. he is NOT getting any more rest.

so now hes sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands like that one picture of shinji. a plethora of thoughts are racing through his head,

“what if i look like shit later today?

...i’ll need to wear concealer with my eyeliner today…

...i’m so fucking tired.”

but it's mainly you. what if he messes up, what if he's too rude or snarky? what if you don't really like who he is, like everyone else?

3 hours before the date.

you know how in films the dorky loser main character practices in front of the mirror before talking to their crush? veritas seemed to take it to heart, as he's standing here, leaning on his sink counter, staring at his own reflection (which he spent the last four hours on) and practicing what he’ll do.

his mind is organized and going over what he’ll do (although he's heavily suppressing the jumbled nervous thoughts that are running rampant in the back of his head) but it’s okay! ‘cause this doctor has a plan..!

talk about her outfit

ask her why she was interested in you

… the weather ?

surely the conversation will flourish from there. yeah. he’s totally prepared.

30 minutes before the date.

of course he’s 30 minutes early. if you’re early, you’re on time. if you're on time, you're late. and if you’re late? don’t bother showing up. that's his philosophy. although he's kinda hoping you don’t show up early too. his deep breathing exercises will take at least another 20 minut-

29 minutes before the date.

shit.

he watches as you enter the cafe, nodding to the barista and looking for a table. he notices you noticing him. your eyes light up and you sent a quick wave as you hurry over. but- wait, just a second- he’s not ready! he hasn't even started his affirmatio-

“hey! i guess we had the same idea, huh?” you chuckle, situating yourself and your bag onto your chair.

uh-oh, he’s just staring at you again. well, that's actually completely and totally 100% your fault! he was in the middle of DEEP-BREATHING. don’t interrupt a guy when he's breathing deeply.

“yes. we did. my philosophy on punctuality is that if you’re early, you’re on time. if you're on time, you're late. and if you’re late? don’t bother showing up.” he manages to get out. did that sound too snobbish?

“exactly! if you’re going somewhere, go with a purpose. even if that purpose is to get out as soon as possible, y’know?” you rest your head on your hand and make some relevant motion with the other one.

that's good! that's really good. he just had a conversation with you, just like he wanted. okay, okay. what now? what were his points?... outfit, interest, weather. outfit, interest, weather. outfit…

“are you going to order, veritas?” the sound of his own name from your tongue draws him back to reality. he’d like to hear that again.

“pardon me. yes, i’ll just take a black coffee.” he’s curt and in the back of his mind he's still deciding which point to bring up.

“sooo…. you look lovely. although i almost didn't recognize you without your alabaster head. i like it though.” you say, making small talk. he didn't mind it with you.

‘FUCK she beat me to it’ is what he’s thinking.

“thank you. you look beautiful, as always.” oooo he got you blushing and kicking your feet.

you let out a curt giggle at that, “so, why do you wear that? the alabaster head.” you cock your head to the side a little. you cutie patootie.

“i can’t bear to see idiots. of course, they wouldn't want to see me either.” he replies, matter of factly.

“they’re surely an idiot if they don't want to see you.”

haaah. veritas’ collar feels tighter and his head's getting hot. how's he supposed to react to that? do you have no shame?

and then he implodes because of your overwhelming beauty

okay guys i gotta be honest i have no idea how to conclude rhis ....so idk and then you guys bone or whatever you want ☺️

a/n - i'm so sorry about rhe ending gang but i quite literally could not think of any way to end this and ive been putting it off for weeks so i knew it wasnt getting finished.... whoops! 🤗

dedicated to 🌸 anon <3

(sorry for making you wait so long ml....... 😞)

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Please Don't Leave Me Like That Again

Arthur Leclerc x First Responder!Fem!Reader

A/N: this is based off a dream I had last night 🥲. ALSO I HIT 300+ FOLLOWERS!!!! THANK YOU!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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The ring of the bell above the diner door could be heard as Charles, Alex, Arthur and I walked in while we waited to be seated.

"Sit anywhere guys, I'll be right with you in a moment!" the nice teenager said as she was running food to a table.

Arthur grabbed my hand as he guided me to a booth before gesturing me in first

"Actually I'm going to run to the bathroom first, if she comes by to get drinks can you order me a (Favorite/drink) if they have it? If not, whatever you think I would like." I said as I placed a quick peck on his lips before heading to the women's restroom.

-

I'd only been gone five minutes but when I returned the table had 4 drinks and two baskets of mozzarella sticks. Sliding in the booth next to Arthur, I immediately picked up my drink taking a few sips before setting it back down on the table before looking over at my boyfriend only to find him staring at me with a smile plastered on his face.

"What? Do I have something on my face??" Panic overtook my body as I pulled out my phone and pulled up the camera to examine my face for any blemishes. Finding nothing, I looked back at him with an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Nothing, I just love you so much." He said as he swung an arm over my shoulder pulling me closer to him as he started littering my face in kisses.

"Aw, you guys are so cute." Alex said as she looked at us before turning her attention to Charles "Why don't you love me like that in public?"

"Mon Coeur, I try but when I do you get shy." He replied as he attempted to do the same, which caused her to giggle before pulling away and covering her face out of embarrassment. "See!" Charles exclaimed before chuckling to himself and picking up his drink to take a sip of it.

When the waitress came back over we gave her our orders, which she said would be out in just a few minutes before we all got back our respected conversations.

The food came out faster than we all thought and while all of us were conversing before something outside the window caught my eye, stopping me mid-sentence.

"What's wrong?" Arthur said as he looked at me with a puzzled look on his face

"That building, is it smoking?" I said as I pointed out of the window t

As we all took a closer look, we realized that there was black smoke coming out of the restaurant that was just a few buildings away from where we were.

"Oh my God, it is! We have to call 911!" Charles said as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket.

My first responder instincts kicked in which is what caused me to run out of the diner and towards the restaurant that was currently on fire without a second thought. My legs were taking me faster than my mind could comprehend and within a few seconds, I was outside the restaurant that normally would've been a 10 minute walk.

When I reached the restaurant I was out of breath but that was the least of my concerns as I was seeing people rushing out covering their faces as they all were coughing from the smoke inhalation. From a distance, I could wear the sirens of the firetrucks and ambulances but they were too far for me to just stop helping whoever I could before they got here to take over.

I saw a lady holding her kid as she made her way to the front door but collapsed from inhaling all the smoke while protecting her baby. Just as I was about to run in and grab her, a figure flew past me and in through the double doors of the restaurant and grabbed her. The fire eerily calmed down which I knew wasn't a good sign, I yelled at whoever ran in to get as low as possible because the fire was about to flash and I didn't want them getting burned after being heroic.

The sirens grew louder but that's not what caught my attention, what caught my attention was hearing the horrific scream of Charles calling out for his brother.

"ARTHUR!!!" That scream made my heart drop.

All of a sudden, I didn't care about my own well-being as the love of my life ran into an actual fire to save someones life and protect me from getting burned, or worse.

"CHARLES, DON'T TELL ME THAT WAS ARTHUR THAT RAN IN THERE!! PLEASE TELL ME THAT WASN'T ARTHUR!" I scream as I choked out a sob

Before Charles could respond, I saw about 10 People rushing out of the building.

"GUYS GET DOWN" I shouted as the fire flashed.

Another sob left my mouth as I didn't know if Arthur was among the 10 that managed to get out before the flash or if he was still in there. The fire engines and ambulances finally came around and they started getting the hoses set up as the paramedics started checking vitals and hooking people on oxygen.

Through my tear filled eyes, I could see a woman and her kid rushing out but there was no man with her. The paramedics took her to the side and I looked back in the restaurant where I watched her exit from. The sight I saw made another gut wrenching scream and sob escape my lips as I saw a body that resembled a males body on the ground.

"ARTHUR?? OH MY GOD PLEASE DON'T BE ARTHUR!" I screamed as I ran to the doors of the building that was still on fire.

I didn't make it far because a firefighter grabbed me "Ma'am, you cannot go in there! If you go off to the side and let us do our job, we will find who you're looking for" She seemed nice but I heard nothing she said.

All I could hear was the shattering of my as I tried not to imagine that body being Arthur's.

Before I could say anything, I felt somebody yank my body around and I was met with my boyfriend, his face covered in dark ash and smelled like smoke but I couldn't care less.

"ARTHUR!! OH MY GOD, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" I screamed as I smashed my lips to his before I hugged him with so much force, I knocked the wind out of both of us.

"I'm sorry, I love you so much and I didn't want you to go in that fire" Arthur said as he kissed the top of my head, neither one of us breaking up the hug.

Looking up at him I couldn't help but frown a little bit "Baby, I do this all the time, I had this down unto the on duty first responders got here! You scared me!" I said as I pulled him to my lips again.

Part of me was scared that this was a figment of my imagination and that any given moment, he would disappear and I would be left with nothing.

"Please don't leave me like that again." I mumbled against his chest as we swayed side to side, relishing in the feeing of being in each other's arms.

"Yeah, don't scare me like that again" Charles said as he patted Arthurs shoulder "Next time, I will kill you myself." we all let out little chuckles before a paramedic came over to us

"Sorry to interrupt your moment but, sir I need to check your vitals." she said as she directed that last part to Arthur

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that part." As much as I didn't want to, we had to release the grip we had on each other.

I watched as Arthur followed the paramedic to the ambulance before turning back to Alex and Charles.

"You really do love my brother, don't you?" He asked with a sincere look in his eyes.

"So much, it hurts" I said as I was visibly still shaking.

"I'll pay for your wedding dress and venue" Was all Charles said as he pulled me into a tight hug.

-

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War Pt II

Summary: Warlord!Rhys takes his mate back to his mountain camp and Tamlin's!sister!Reader has to decide the best way to try and escape

Content Warnings: Morally Grey!Rhys, talks of violence

Part I

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

We ride for hours. The first two riders I’d seen join us after the first; they too have wings, tucked tight against their backs. Under different circumstances, I might be tempted to ask why they bothered with horses at all when they can simply fly, but thought better of it. The less I learn about them the better. All the easier to keep them in my mind as some faceless evil so I feel a little less guilty about putting an arrow in their eye when I escape. Rhysand has foolishly left me with my weapons, I'll put that mistake to good use when the time is right. 

By the third hour, we’ve left the bog and the forest behind, riding through what was once a sprawling plain but is now nothing but weeds. There is no magic left to keep this place fertile and thriving. Hybern’s Cauldron backed powers have stripped most of the land of its power, leaving ruin and famine behind in its wake. Little has managed to grow since, he’s been using the Cauldron to make sure a majority of the crops grow in his fields, where his slaves can tend them and ensure he gets the bulk of the harvest. There's nowhere to run out here.

Especially not when the rest of the riders regroup. There are twelve of them in total, all falling behind my captor as his great, midnight black stead takes the lead. 

I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, could not afford to keep one, but the ones that I had, back in my youth, had never been this graceful. Even with my added weight the horse gallops like it has wings, swift as the wind, its blue-black mane trailing gracefully behind it. I almost don’t mind the ride, minus the circumstance and company, as the sun begins to set ahead of us, the sky a symphony of purple, orange and pink.

Eventually, we come to a river, flowing with large chunks of ice from a not yet frozen ice flow further upstream, where they stop to water their mounts. 

My captor dismounts first, large, gloved hands gripping my waist to help me down. By the Mother, his hands are so large against my hips! I’m suddenly very aware of my own size. 

“Don’t try and run,” he warns.

I glance around to my lack of escape routes and roll my eyes. “Darn, I was planning on throwing myself into the river.”

One of the others, the male I’d spotted first I think, snorts beneath his hood. 

Rhysand grunts out a warning before leading his horse to drink and filling a canteen he had tucked in his saddle bag. His back is, foolishly to me, I could easily draw my knife and stab him right here, but a quick glance around tells me that really would end with me taking a trip down the river. All his men carry swords and knives and there’s one with a wicked looking dagger strapped to his thigh; I barely reach the chin of the shortest among them, and that doesn’t account for at least a hundred pounds of muscle difference between us. I know that I have thinned, my ribs poking out beneath the heavy, hole ridden sweater. Some days I feel… brittle. Today especially. I’m not winning any fights against one of them, let alone twelve.

No, I just need to be smart. Wait for an opening, steal a horse, and run as far away as possible. So far, whatever this monster thinks I’m supposed to be to him has saved me from harm, I don’t plan on sticking around to see how long that protects me. Even if I did believe in mates-- as if the Mother ever cared enough about me to give me a soul tie to anyone--I’ve seen the worst in people enough to know it didn’t mean much in the end. What’s a mate but someone obligated to be a breeding mare? What’s a bond if not a magically induced aphrodisiac? I have little doubt that I’m actually safe here; just alive and conscious because it’s too much of a hassle to try and drag my limp body around.

My scheming comes to a grinding halt as Rhysand returns with the canteen, water sloshing the edge as he holds it out for me. It hasn’t occurred to me just how dry my mouth is until I see that water. 

Of course, I’m not going to let him know that. “No thanks.”

“I’m not going to poison you,” he returns.

“Poison's the least of my concerns,” I retort.

He grabs my hand and pushes the canteen into it. “Drink.”

“Bite me,” I snarl.

His men chuckle at that, which must upset him because his wings twitch behind him. He draws a deep breath before saying, “Ask nicely, mate.”

I should dump the water directly on his head, and my hand twitches around the canteen as I debate it, but in the end I decide against it. This male murdered half my family in cold blood, whatever thin amount of protection I might have remains only as long as he doesn’t think I’m a threat. To escape, I need to be smart.

On that subject, does he even know who I am? Does he remember riding into our camp that night, sword drawn, slaughtering my people as they jumped from their mats? Or were we just another blurred face in the mass of lives he’s taken in the name of conquest? He’s as bad as Hybern. Even if he has forgotten, I won’t.

I twist the lid back on without drinking anything, ignoring the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he growls as he takes it back and slides it into his saddle bag. There’s a rolled up sleep mat, a blanket, and another sword all tied neatly to that bag. Nothing too heavy, meaning their encampment can’t be far. I need to find a way to get away before they reach it; there will be too many eyes there.

“Your bow,” he says, holding out his hand. 

My hand tightens instinctively around the belt across my chest, the leather worn and cracked from years of use. “No.”

“You can’t ride into camp with them.”

“Great, then you can just leave me here.”

It takes him two steps to be back beside me, and I’m embarrassed to admit how easy it is for him to snag the strap and yank it over my head, despite my best efforts to keep that from happening. 

“Give that back!” 

“The knife can stay, as long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he says like I’m a misbehaving child. 

He keeps his back to me as he ties my bow and quiver up next to his second sword, my stomach rolling at the sight of my things next to his. 

Rhysand orders his men to mount up as he turns back to me, and I get the impression he’s looking me over for more weapons beneath the hood. I still have no idea what he looks like. Ugly and scarred, like most warlords are, I imagine. I’d never gotten a good look at him that night, had only seen those three stars on his hood and that giant sword between his wings, dripping blood. 

“You won’t need any weapons,” he says, in what sounds like it’s an attempt to be gentle, but falls flat. “You’re safe with me.”

I’d have been safer with the kelpie. But I don’t say it, I don’t say anything at all as those large hands lift me back onto the horse, or when he swings into the saddle behind me. I don’t say anything when we cross the river, icy water biting through my thin pants, making my teeth chatter, or when the wind whips relentlessly at us as we leave the grassy plains and head into the mountains. The chill feels like a thousand needles being jammed into my skin, but I will bear it silently. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing me weak; will not be gratified by any sort of conversation for the duration of our journey.

Or at least, that was the plan. 

“You’re shaking,” he says, one hand gripping the reins as he uses the other to slide his cloak off his shoulders and over mine.

The material is thick, lined with fur inside, so startlingly warm between his own body heat and the fur that when it settles over me I give a little sigh of relief. The sleeves are too big, swallowing my hands as I try to pull it more fully over my body. “Thanks.” It slips out of me before I can stop myself.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he replies as he settles around me again.

The smell of him, jasmine and citrus and the sea invades all my senses. I want, more than anything, to get it out of my nose, to keep the knowledge of him far, far away from me, but yet, despite my mind’s protests, my body burrows deeper into it. 

There’s still no encampment or settlement on the horizon, the horses moving deeper and deeper into the mountains as night falls around us. As long as we’re not stopping to make camp, I think I’ll survive. 

“And you haven’t told me yours.” If there must be a conversation, best I can do to buy myself time is steer all conversation away from me.

“I’ve had many names, but most call me Rhys.”

Most called him Death Incarnate amidst a number of things that would make a sailor blush, but I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone call him Rhys. That was entirely too normal. 

“Ok, Rhys,” it tastes like bile on my tongue, acknowledging him as anything other than the monster he has always been called back home. “Where are we going?”

The moon shines bright above us, illuminating the slender path we take through the mountains, a steep drop off on one side of us, nothing but sheer rock wall on the other. 

“Home,” he replies. 

I can’t help the scowl that escapes me, but at least he can’t see it. “And where is home exactly?”

“You’ll see soon,” he replies as he expertly guides his mount up a rocky path. There is no hesitation in his movements; he’s ridden this path many times.

I run a hand over my forehead. “I don’t remember coming this far out.” It slips out of me. If he knows this path then we’re close to the Illyrian borderlines, where his warband can make a semi-permanent encampment. These are grounds I’m not supposed to be anywhere near, nor did I think I was. 

“Where were you headed?” 

My brother’s made his claim through the Grasslands, the ground barely fertile to feed the livestock in the summer. With winter coming fast, he’d tried pushing his boundary lines into the forests near what had once been the Human Lands. I meant to go through the woods, skirting around Hybern’s slave camps and slip into the Uncharted Territories to find some game. I must have skirted too far past the slave camps when I’d lost my map running from those Highway Men.

“The Uncharted Lands,” I say because I honestly can’t come up with a lie that doesn’t make it look like I belong to Hybern or Amarantha. The boundaries between the warbands shift too often, encroaching too close. Sometimes I can barely tell who’s who and this is the only world I’ve ever known.

“Why?” He asks as we crest an incline and lead the men over a long, smooth plateau on the mountain’s western face. The wind is worse here, snapping at us like whips and before I can even burrow into my borrowed cloak, he’s drawing the hood of it over my head.

His arm tightens around my waist as he barks at his men to start riding single file. 

“Was looking for food.”

The horse’s hooves echo between the valley of rock beneath us as we press forward, the precariousness of our situation buying me time to figure out my lie. If I’m not hunting for my brother, what am I doing out here? It’s been a long day; a long week honestly. The rumbling of my stomach and the wind at my face and the warlord at my back seem to occupy the limited space in my quickly tiring mind. The hood of the cloak doesn’t help. It is embedded with some sort of magic, because even though it makes everything dark and warm, I can somehow see right through the fabric, right where that cluster of stars are, as if they’re eye slits. Magic items are rare these days, and expensive, I could probably buy out the Grassland’s market of deer jerky for this item alone.

Eventually the plateau dips, taking us down the other side of the mountain, into the misty canyon below. If I didn’t know where I was before, I really don’t now. Mountains are Illyrian territory, as forbidden and unwelcoming as the Imperial City Hybern had erected in The Middle centuries ago. I need to be paying attention so I know the way back; my eyes are sharp, sharper than most, I should be able to make out a deer path or trail easily, even in the dark, but my eyes are so heavy.

I give myself a little shake. Gotta be paying attention.

The swaying, even gate of the horse reminds me of being a small child, sitting in my mother’s rocking chair as she reads me to sleep. She and my father had always loved telling us stories, my father his made up theories and tales from the road, my mother her books and poems. I try to sit up and adjust my position in the saddle so I’m not slouching forward.

“You do not ride often,” Rhys says, his grip pulling me back more solidly against his chest, so I can feel all the hard planes of him. He’s got to be freezing without his cloak, even if he is still wearing long sleeves and gloves.

“No,” I bite back the rest of the story; how my people had suffered with the loss of my father. How Tam hadn’t been able to organize our survivors in the aftermath, how he’d been unable to store enough food for us that first winter and many of our rider’s had deserted. How he’d had to decide if keeping our stables full was worth the price of the lives hunger was stealing from us; how we’d been forced to eat and sell a few of them, my father’s prized war horse included. 

“We’ll change that,” he says, half to me, half to himself. “I think I like having my mate ride with me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds. At least I’m awake now. 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

The mist settles around us as we step into the valley, even as the path ahead becomes nearly invisible, he doesn’t slow or get down to walk the horse. He knows where he’s going, has done this so many times he could do it blind. A rare gift many of our traveling cities don’t receive. Envy swells in my chest. I have never had  a place secure enough to set up a permanent camp. The Grasslands are our borders sure, but we move through them daily in fear of an attack, keeping ourselves vigilant for whenever Hybern or Amarantha decide they want more than they’ve already taken from us. Always changing our paths, our camp layout, always moving. How come this monster gets this luxury and my people don’t? 

“You are so hesitant to give it,” he muses, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Do I know it already?”

Shit.

“No, that can’t be right. Our bond is too obvious, I would have remembered.”

He’s as clever as he is quick on his feet, unfortunately.

“So I will know you by association, is that it?”

I should just fling myself off the horse and try to lose myself in the mist. If I’m lucky, maybe one of his men will trample me by accident and this horrible nightmare will be over. At least, if I’m dead I will not have to explain my failure to Tam, or face the alternative of being this male’s breeding mare. Neither is a future I wish to meet.

It is only then that an alternative solution occurs to me.

Tam said I couldn’t come back without food; I’d made a nuisance of myself back home and had swiftly suffered the consequences of it, and with winter coming in fast, my brother has to know he sent me on a fool’s errand. Perhaps intending to keep me out of his way for a while; or to finally get me to bend the knee and submit to his authority as warlord. I hadn’t been of age to take father’s mark, and my allegiance had fallen through the cracks in the years after. Until I was integrated, Tam couldn’t marry me off, as I suspected he wanted to do often, and was probably using this opportunity to try and make me see reason. A future I also loathed to picture. Perhaps, if I played my cards right here, then I could find something more useful than a deer to bring back. If I played along with this little mates concept, what could Rhysand show me? Couldn’t I use any knowledge he gave to my advantage? Surely Tam would find other uses for me than marrying me off with this sort of leverage. My brother was known for his grudges, if I found a way to offer up his enemy on a silver platter, perhaps I’d never have to worry about being married off again.

My stomach twists as the plot plays out before my eyes: This fool taking me into the lands my people had never been able to access before, convincing him to let his guard down, to show me where his people were vulnerable. I could get my hands on camp movements or their supply lines; I could count the fighting men or the horses, make list after list to take back in the place of a few meals I know deep down I’d never be able to find before winter. 

My parents faces flash before my eyes. My mother, so gentle and…sad. She had been sad long before my birth, always missing a home she couldn’t go back to because of Hybern. But she had always tried to be there for me. To sing to me and hold me. She had been good and kind and if she knew where I sat now… what I thought I might do…

And my father. He was cruel and cold and I’d spent a long time wondering if he’d ever loved me at all, but he had been a good leader. He had inspired the men, even on days that had been bleak. He’d been willing to shed whatever blood was necessary to ensure the survival of my people. If this opportunity had been presented while he was alive, he would have tossed a collar around my neck and dragged me to Rhysand’s doorstep himself. 

As for Tamlin, well if he so much as saw Rhysand’s arm around my waist as it was now he would have torn him to shreds. He would hate it, but I think my brother was as calculating and ruthless as my father had been. His protective nature could be overruled by what he deemed necessary to keep us alive. 

I’d need to play my cards right, if I was to make this work. “Yes,” and I force my voice to a whisper, my shoulders hunching in feign defeat. I will have to find ways not to look so utterly revolted about this male touching me; will have to bury all my base instincts to run and claw and fight every time he calls me his mate. But I can do it.

I will do it. For vengeance. For my angel of a mother. For the survival my father died for. I’d damn myself a hundred times over for a chance Tam had never found. 

He rests his chin on my shoulder, thinking and it takes every inch of willpower I possess to not shrug him off. A few hours together and this prick thinks he can just touch me so casually? As if I have no say in the matter because he is my mate and therefore owed whatever affection he sees fit to grant me?

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t hold it against you,” his voice is… gentle. Far more gentle than a man in his position should be and I have no idea how to respond to it. 

“My name is Y/N,” I saw softly, like I’m scared the wind will hear me. “Tamlin is my older brother.”

He stiffens behind me and I find myself holding my breath. This is it.

“He never mentioned he had a sister,” he says more to himself than me.

I almost audibly let loose a massive sigh of relief. “Yeah, well he isn’t too fond of me at the moment.” Never mind I didn’t know that he and Tamlin had ever talked on a mutual basis. Sometimes, usually over a mutually beneficial wedding ceremony, did rival camps come together and exchange weapons, food and sometimes training. If I remember correctly, I think there might have been times when we’d done so with the Illyrians, but never did Tam mention that he knew Rhysand personally. Rhysand was always a name whispered like a curse, as if saying it too loud would bring death and destruction upon us. 

“He sent you out here? Alone?” That last bit comes out like a growl.

“Banished, is more of the term he used,” I say under my breath, hoping the tone conveys embarrassment. 

“For what?” He hisses, his tone promising violence. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Now what would convince Death Incarnate that I was something meek and fragile and in need of protection from my big, bad brother? If we really were mates, it would be in his nature to want to protect me, from both physical and emotional harm, but I needed to be careful. Too extreme a lie and I was likely to restart the war between our camps that had cost me my parents. I needed something to pack enough punch to convince him he needed to keep me close, to be looked after, but not so bad that it sparked a fight.

Perhaps my best bet was to appeal to the bond. “He wants me to take his mark,” I twist the sleeves of the cloak between my fingers as I speak. “So he can reap the benefits of marrying me off to one of Autumn’s commanders.”

Rhysand has gone still as death itself behind me and every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire as whatever dark power lives within his skin comes to life. All my instincts scream at me to run, hide.

“But Eris is… cruel and I told Tam I couldn’t do it.” Eris was probably too old for Tam to try, but there had been talks, even when I was a girl, about how my father had wanted an alliance with Autumn, and Eris had his own history with the Illyrians. “He told me I needed to sort out my priorities and when I didn’t, he threw me out.”

“That’s just like him,” Rhysand snarls.

I bite down on my tongue to keep from snarling all the things I’d rather say in my brother’s defense. 

“How long have you been out here on your own?”

“About a week, I think,” I could say longer, but on the off-chance he has spies that could check that sort of thing--and I’m fairly certain the stories about Illyrians and their shadow agents are not far off--I’d rather play it safe. 

He brings his mount to a brief halt as two, looming carvings in the mountain’s face appear through the fog. The touring statues sporting the same great, talon tipped wings as Rhysand, stand guard over the pass ahead of us, their hewn sword held aloft. Sleeping wyverns lay at the base of each statue, their carefully carved eyes at eye level with us as the men fall in line behind us. The air is tinged with magic--overly sweet and oppressive-- as we approach, some sort of shield.

“From here,” he says softly in my ear, the mask still shielding the lower half of his face from the wind rough against my cheek. “You’ll never have to worry about being alone again.”

I’m going to be sick!  Play it safe. Play the game. For Tam. For Mom and Dad. I will myself to picture their faces again, to keep reminding myself what is at stake. 

Rhysand kicks the horse into motion again, passing through the shield with a flick of his gloved hand, soft ripples of magic parting for us like someone had pulled back a curtain. I’ve never seen anyone use magic so casually, so fluidly. Once all the riders have passed through, I feel the shield fall back into place behind us. No turning back now.

Ahead, the path begins to widen. At the far end of the path, still shrouded on either side by the mountains, sit two torches, the light guiding the way. When we reach them, the path dips dangerously into a valley, all filled with large, midnight black tents. More torches and bonfires light the cloth city, the sounds of drum beats and revelry beckoning from beneath us.

“I see the party started without us,” one of the men says from behind us.

“Devlon must have had a good run,” Rhysand muses as he takes us down into the valley. 

As the lights draw closer, I can start to make out the tribal markings and depictions sewn into the sides of the tents. There’s singing to go with the drum beats, all in a language that makes no sense to me, just like the markings. Something from the Mountains none of my people had ever been privy to. 

When we reach the outskirts of the city, we are greeted by two towering males, wearing little other than loose, dark paints and a smattering of blood red paint along their bare chests and faces. Each holds a spear, a dagger strapped to their muscled thighs. 

One barks something at Rhysand in Illyrian, his slate colored gaze fixed on me, still wearing the lord’s cloak. I’m grateful they cannot see my face, the fear I know will be clear in my eyes. It is hard enough to hide the trembling in my hands.

Rhysand dismounts to greet them, still speaking in Illyrian until they retreat into the maze of tents beyond. Despite the raucous laughter and music coming from the center, the rows of tents are organized into clear streets and sectors, some dancing bodies visible in between the rows, though most of the camp seems to be in its heart at the moment. 

He runs a gloved hand over the horses neck as he turns to face the men, their mounts dancing beneath them. “We will strategize in the morning.”

That is apparently dismissal enough, as his men bow their heads and kick their steads into motion around the outskirts of camp, soon disappearing into the darkness. My stomach drops as I realize I’m alone with my enemy for the first time all night. My anxiety only heightens as he takes the reins and guides the horse forward without a word of where we’re going.

I’m too scared to ask either.

Staying on the edge of camp means I cannot see any of what is happening within, though I glimpse bonfires and revelry often enough to guess. It is not unlike our own celebrations, even if the music is different.

Rhysand still doesn’t speak as we pass another group of sentries and head up a well worn path in the heart of the valley. The grass is lush here, would be up to his knees were it not for the cleared stretch lined by torches. It is quieter here, the music distant.

Overhead, the stars glitter like a million little diamonds, all the constellations I have memorized a stark contrast to the dark shadows of this hidden mountain world. We’re surrounded on all sides by mountains, shielded from view and harm by stone. It is so different to the rolling hills I am used to, it is nice to know that the stars, at least, have not changed.

The path leads to a secluded circle of larger tents, still black but stitched with stars not unlike the ones on the cloak I’m still wearing.

We pass yet another group of sentries as we approach, and only once we’re face to face with the largest tent in the circle does Rhysand finally stop.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

I should have run. Should have thrown myself into the river. Should have risked a quick death trying to fight my way out of this than subjecting myself to this.

Rhysand grabs my waist again and lifts me off the horse as if I weigh nothing. Compared to his size, I’m sure I do. In the torchlight, this is the first time I’ve managed to glimpse his face. I’d been drastically wrong about his appearance. The monster that haunted my nightmares was not some old, scarred thing as I had pictured, I wasn’t sure he was even older than Tam. A young lord, his features sharp, but clean cut. Some of his raven black hair fell loose around his sun kissed face, framing a set of violet eyes so bright they practically glittered like stars in his head, the rest was braided with strands of blue and purple thread. By far the most beautiful male I’d ever seen in my life and I think I hate him a little more for it. 

“You must be tired,” he says finally.

I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod, which I think might be a mistake because now we’re heading inside the tent and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears because I have made a terrible mistake!

By some magic trick, torches flair to life as we enter, the soft orange glow cast in eerie patterns against the sleek black leather walls. On one side of the tent is a bed large enough to accommodate someone with such massive wings, piled with furs and pelts of various animals. On the other end, a table with some chairs and various weapons and books and trinkets scattered about the top of it. There’s chests piled in the corner, locked and dusty like they haven’t been opened since they’d been moved in. The floor is covered in a dozen different rugs, all overlapping in an attempt to make the place feel cozier but the patterns and colors are all so different that it looks like a whacky patchwork quilt. Clearly a layout chosen by a male.

“I apologize for the mess,” he begins as he takes off the scarf tied around the lower half of his face and places it over the back of a chair. “I… was not expecting to come across anybody out there, let alone bringing anyone back.”

“What were you doing out there?” My voice shakes too much for my liking and I’m convinced I asked that far too quickly to not be totally obvious, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Scouting,” he says with no further explanation as he tosses his gloves onto a heap of more gloves on the edge of the table. 

My muscles stiffen as I watch him warily. If he starts undressing I might really change my mind and try to run for it.

I am prepared to do what is necessary for my people, but that is a line I cannot cross yet. Not tonight.  

He steps closer to where I stand dumbly in the center of the room, drowning in his cloak, and he nudges the hood off my face with his knuckles. 

I have to remind myself to stop biting my lip as the fabric slides off my head. Even fully clothed, standing this close to him, with those violet eyes drinking me in like that, I feel very exposed and vulnerable. 

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hand drifting down the side of my cheek.

I hate that I shiver under his touch. Hate that my eyes go to his full lips and how soft they look in this torchlight. I hate that I find him beautiful, hate that I do not pull away as he cups my cheek. I hate myself for putting myself in this position in the first place. 

“I…” this is not an act, I really don’t know what to do or say here. My chest aches with the way he’s looking at me, like maybe there really is some strange, mystical thread linking us together and it’s coming awake the more he has his hands on me. Yet my mind balks and screams all the same and I cannot tell which of them is supposed to help me do this. “This is a lot.”

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he assures, his voice low and husky, a tone I think might be better suited to the bedroom. “You are safe with me.”

Safe.

As if he could ever make me feel safe.

His thumb rubs circles in my cheek, the calluses along his palm from years of sword play scratching pleasantly across my skin. Violet eyes rove over me, studying the plains of my face like he’s cataloging every detail. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

I let loose a breath as he heads back to the tent flap, where his horse is still waiting.

“For now, it would be best if you stay here. Don’t go anywhere without me. At least, not until you take my mark.”

And then he’s gone, finally leaving me alone for the first time in hours, but even if I wanted to do some snooping, I can’t. All I can do is stand there as my stomach rises in my throat. 

His mark.

How the hell was I supposed to go home bearing Rhysand’s mark? 

I rub my temples with my fingertips. I need to find something useful to take back to Tamlin and get out of here fast, because if I don’t, I may never be allowed to go home again.

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[deathslovelyfawnx]

found another gem on SJMs recent insta post 😌

ignoring the irony of a gw/nriel saying “they think flooding SJMs comment section will get her to change her mind,” i find it interesting how this person says “trust your gut, there’s a reason az and elain feel so wrong to so many, SJM wrote them that way.”

so, let’s see how SJM wrote them!

(incoming ABSURDLY long and sarcastic post)

ACOMAF ch 24

Elain rasped, “Nice to meet you,” before hustling after her, the silk skirts of her cobalt dress whispering over the parquet floor.

A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?”

He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.”

how nice of him, to be so polite and eloquent for her, to help make her comfortable! what a gentleman.

ACOMAF ch 49

And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.

I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.

it’s interesting, how even in the first book that they are introduced to each other, feyre thinks they would be good for each other. but no! i must be still missing something. everyone says they are bad for each other, why else would they say that?

ACOWAR ch 24

Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door.

Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face.

Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?”

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.”

Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.

aww, she finds his scars beautiful, even though he’s insecure about them! meh, she’s probably just being polite.

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading; Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly,“ There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

here we see the talk of rejecting the mating bond, directly in relation to elain. but surely this isn’t foreshadowing for elain and lucien rejecting their bond. they are fated mates, and SJM only writes fated mates, after all!

ACOWAR ch 30

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand.

Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.

aww, his shadows fade around elain! that must mean he’s comfortable with her, since they protect him. he must feel so safe with her! but alas, i can’t forget, they are wrong for each other. maybe his shadows actually hate her and are scared of her? sure, it doesn’t make sense that they would leave azriel if they think he is in danger, but if they aren’t good for each other that must be it!

ACOWAR ch 32

“No.” Elain studied me, then her. “Not that one. The other.”

Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, “What other?”

Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. “The queen—with the feathers of flame.”

The shadowsinger angled his head.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly.

“We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

ACOWAR ch 33

Elain turned to Mor, who was now gaping at my sister from her spot beside her on the couch. “Is that what this is?”

And the words, the tone … they were so normal-sounding that my chest tightened.

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.

“Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.”

Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.

interesting. i thought your mate is supposed to be the one that can figure out what is wrong with you? must have just been a fluke.

ACOWAR ch 64

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

azriel is willing to die to save elain, how romantic! but.. that can’t be right. it just must be his sense of duty then. he would do it for anyone!

ACOWAR ch 65

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

“Grab onto him!” Elain ordered the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her.”

Elain screamed at her, “If you want to live, do it now!”

The girl dropped her cloak, opened her arms wide.

Her black hair streamed behind Azriel, catching amongst his wings as he practically tackled her into the sky. But I saw, even as I ran, Elain’s pale hands lurch—gripping the girl by her neck, holding her as tightly as she could.

The girl screamed, but Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast’s face. Its eye. Another. Another.

It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home.

aww, look at them working together to save this girl! but no, everybody says elain is fragile, bland, and can’t handle az’s darkness, why would she be anything other than a damsel in distress?

The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he’d slapped on it. Help—he needed a healer immediately.

Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.”

Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.

azriel cared more about getting elain out of her chains than his own life-threatening wounds. i know this is a romance, but that’s just so unhealthy! he should care more about his own well-being than some girl! clearly, they are bad for each other!

ACOWAR ch 69

Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option.

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

azriel gave her his most prized possession to protect herself with? well, i’m sure this isn’t unique, he’d probably give it to anyone-

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade—

Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.

what beautiful imagery! but let’s be honest, nobody’s interested in an opposites-attract romance. and it’s probably not important that he’s never let anyone touch truth teller before her.

ACOFAS ch 12

Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants.

I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.

I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.”

Az said nothing.

No, he just moved toward her.

Mor tensed beside me.

But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

awww, what a gentleman! but he probably just cares about manners.

Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. “I- I’ll be right back,” she murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she should just sit.

Azriel set the potatoes in the center of the table, Cassian diving right in. Or he tried to.

One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice.

Cassian gawked at him. “Wait for what? Gravy?”

Azriel didn’t let go. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

Cassian gave a pointed look to the plate of green beans, chicken, bread, and ham already half eaten on Mor’s plate. But he relaxed his hand, leaning back in his chair. “I never knew you were a stickler for manners, Az.”

Azriel only released Cassian’s hand, and stared at his wineglass.

Elain swept in, apron gone and hair rebraided. “Please don’t wait on my account,” she said, taking the seat at the head of the table.

Cassian glared at Azriel. Az pointedly ignored him.

see, she didn’t even want them to wait on her! he shouldn’t have told everyone to wait, it wasn’t that important!

ACOFAS ch 20

“Az, this one’s for you.”

Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.”

“I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.”

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.

Elain smiled again, ducking her head.

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”

what a funny yet thoughtful gift she got him! that’s nice of her. and she even made him laugh, in a way feyre had never seen before! but no, they’re not right for each other. i have been hearing that feyre is an unreliable narrator.. good thing we have some other points of view coming up!

ACOSF ch 19

“At least you’re honest.” Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.”

“Because of the shit with Elain?”

Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.”

“It’s about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there.”

“It’s bad, then.” Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?”

His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.

Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready,

is he feeling protective of elain? well, surely cassian would know what’s going on with his best friend! it’s probably just a coincidence.

ACOSF ch 21

“Look who decided to grow claws after all,” she crooned. “Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.”

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

i guess he is protective of elain.. but that’s bad, right?

ACOSF ch 29

Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it.”

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

agh, no! that’s toxic, he’s too protective over her! sure, cassian immediately proceeds to do the same thing with nesta, but they’re mates so it’s fine!

ACOSF ch 44

“She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from. Cassian tucked away his puzzlement. Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long.

see? cassian doesn’t see anything between them and he’s azriel’s best friend! surely if there was something there he would have caught it. i’m sure nesta’s POV will help us figure it out!

ACOSF ch 58

Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

ACOSF ch 58

“Why don’t you sit?” She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger.

“My shadows don’t like the flames so much.” A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer.

“Why did you come if it torments you so much?”

“Because Rhys wants me here. It’d hurt him if I didn’t come.”

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire.

His secret to tell, never hers.

well, just because nesta sees something between the two of them doesn’t mean she isn’t an unreliable narrator, just like feyre! right?

hmm, odd. none of what SJM wrote between azriel and elain really gives me any indication that they’re wrong for each other. in fact, it seems to be that we are being outright told (practically shouted at), repeatedly, that they would be good together. we’re also shown the pain it brings them to be apart, to hide their feelings just to keep others comfortable.

but maybe i’m missing something! i just must not be understanding the way SJM wrote things! don’t forget, SJM only writes fated mates stories. elain and lucien are mates, which means they must be good together! surely seeing their interactions will bring into perspective how wrong azriel is for elain!

ACOWAR ch 12

“I want to see her. Just once. Just—to know.”

“To know what?”

He hitched my damp cloak higher around us. “If she is worth fighting for.”

oh. well. that’s not very romantic. but have no fear! SJM is the queen of setting up romantic and sexual tension between reluctant mates! i’m sure we’ll see it soon!

ACOWAR ch 24

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn’t dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn’t yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her—

The instincts were a running river. He fisted his hands at his sides.

look! he wants her! yes, it might be his instincts, but still, he wants her!

His mate.

She was nothing like Jesminda.

Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him.

Elain had been … thrown at him.

okay, so maybe she’s nothing like the love of his life. and maybe she was thrown at him. those don’t have to be bad things!

ACOWAR ch 29

It was the most uncomfortable thirty minutes I could recall.

Pretending, while Lucien and Elain sat in stilted silence by the dim fireplace, an untouched tea service between them.

Elain had picked up the teacup, and now sipped from it without so much as looking toward him.

“We can try again—another day,” I offered.

Lucien nodded, but looked unconvinced.

okay, sure, i’ve never seen her endgame couples this uncomfortable around each other, but maybe she is just taking us down a different path for them!

ACOWAR ch 32

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

well, he’s trying at least!

ACOFAS ch 1

He hadn’t mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay, or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

just because they’re avoiding each other doesn’t mean anything! she probably just cares so strongly for him that it’s overwhelming.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle.

How Lucien withstood it, I didn’t know. Not that he’d shown any interest in bridging that gap between them.

just a… just a really slow burn, i’m sure of it!

ACOFAS ch 18

“You look well,” I said to Lucien when we’d settled in the armchairs before the fire, Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

“You as well.” A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. “Both of you.”

Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to.

Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.”

I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.

…i’m sure all that tension and passion will show up any minute now!

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream.

“He’s not staying for tea,” I said.

Elain simply removed the kettle from the heat.

I knew I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry with anyone but myself, but I said, “You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?”

Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter.

“He brought you a present.”

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

see? there’s some passion! maybe not the type i would imagine for my endgame couple, but..

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.”

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

look, she doesn’t just not want a mate, but ANY male! maybe she should just be alone? i know is a romantasy series, but who doesn’t want to read a romance novel where the girl ends up alone?

“I know you don’t.” I loosed a long breath. “But …”

But I had no idea how to finish that sentence. Just because Lucien was her mate didn’t mean he had a claim on her time. Her affection. She was her own person, capable of making her own choices. Assessing her own needs.”

i mean, how can we be sure elain knows what she wants? feyre’s right, she should give him a chance! he’s her mate, after all. she should want to make him happy, he’s been through so much!

ACOFAS ch 20

There were only a few presents left—Lucien’s.

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it.

“Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

okay, so maybe lucien doesn’t really seem to understand elain. but that’s her fault! she needs to give him a chance! surely we’ll see lucien fighting for her? then she’ll know he’s worth it!

ACOSF ch 40

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

…welp

ACOSF ch 58

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

“He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.”

okay, just because he makes her shrink into herself and lose her boldness doesn’t mean they aren’t good for each other! all she’s doing is hurting them both by keeping them apart, if she would just give him a shot they would surely love each other!

okay, yeah, this might not seem like the build up to a beautiful love story, but obviously we are just missing what is obvious to so many!

after all,

SJM wrote it that way for a reason!

alright y’all, i’m done being a sarcastic bitch. i could make an entire other post just about the differences between gw*n/az and elain/az including the BC, but this post is already long enough, so maybe i’ll save that for another day. after all, who doesn’t love beating a dead horse?