#no wonder he doesn't want to watch more of it

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit. 

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now. 

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second. 

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies. 

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

 He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.” 

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.” 

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?” 

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck. 

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.” 

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy. 

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out. 

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter. 

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone. 

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room. 

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive. 

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks. 

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his. 

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his. 

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens. 

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?” 

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. 

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it. 

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

[flowersforbucky]

either way, i'm going your way

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4k

summary: logan doesn't remember the last time he celebrated valentine's day, and he doesn't have any reason to believe that this year will be any different. then he runs into you, wade's neighbor, who happens to love the holiday despite not having anyone to celebrate it with.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, sex in a public place kind of, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v, logan's pov, neighbor!reader, reader is afab, reader is described as being shorter than logan, no use of y/n, hints of grumpy x sunshine

this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt & @lubdubology valentine's writing challenge! thank you both for hosting this, i can't wait to read the other submissions ❤️

logan howlett masterlist

Logan has been alive for two centuries worth of Valentine's Days. He can count on one hand how many he’s actually celebrated, and he can't recall the last time he had a reason to even acknowledge the day.

To him, Valentine’s Days have always been just another Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever day it falls on that year.

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

Technically he can't say that he's entirely alone. Romantically? Yes. Sexually? Yes.

Physically, however, he’s lodged between a blind eighty-year-old cocaine addict and a ten pound living tumor - the latter of whom keeps trying to French kiss him.

Wade might be out with Vanessa for Valentine’s Day, but for Logan, this is any other Friday night – watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reruns with Al and Mary Puppins.

Something about his current predicament makes him feel even more alone than if he actually were alone. Maybe it’s how unfamiliar and foreign this universe still feels in so many ways – he’s been here for some months now, but there’s some things that remind him that he still has a ways to go in terms of adjustment.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

He has no one to blame but himself, and he knows it. He had the perfect opportunity to ask you out just last week, and he didn’t take it. The two of you were both taking the elevator up to your neighboring apartments when it broke down for the third fucking time in the last month. It took nearly an hour for maintenance to get it back up and running, and he couldn’t find the nerve to simply ask if you have any plans at any point during the time you were trapped in the fifteen square feet of space together. Instead, he awkwardly rambled about he had walked in on Wade and Vanessa in a compromising position the day before.

He cringes at the memory, tossing back another swig of whiskey when he realizes the bottle is empty. He sighs, earning a side-eye from Mary Puppins.

If this is how he’s going to be spending his evening, he should at least be a little intoxicated.

“I’m going to the liquor store,” Logan announces as he transfers Mary Puppins from his lap to Al’s before standing up from his position on the couch for the first time in hours. “You need anything?”

“Pick me up a couple of scratchers and a pack of Newports.”

Just her usual requests, then.

Logan throws on his leather jacket, dreading the cold and dreary February night but willing to face it for a bottle of bourbon and some cigars. He’s been out of those since yesterday, so a trip to the nearest convenience store is much needed, anyway.

The door to the apartment complex’s singular outdated elevator is sliding to a close when Logan hears a familiar, feminine voice call out.

“Hold up!”

Logan immediately pushes the hold button, freezing the door in place. A second later, you appear in the doorframe. You’re slightly out of breath, with a relieved expression on your face.

“Thanks,” you greet him as you lean against the wall of the elevator, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your plaid skirt. “I’m running late to my dinner reservations and really didn’t wanna have to take the stairs in these.” You glance down at the heels of the uncomfortable looking thigh high boots that you’re wearing.

Uncomfortable looking and hot, he thinks, before your words sink in. Dinner reservations – of course you’d have plans tonight. He feels a slight pang of disappointment (and jealousy, if he’s being honest with himself) at the realization, but he isn’t surprised.

“Well, let’s cross our fingers that we don’t get stuck in here again and that you make it to your date on time,” Logan says with a forced laugh and smile as he pushes the button once again to close the door, followed by the button that says lobby.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?”

“You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What’s wrong with how I look? And what’s wrong with going to dinner by myself?”

“Nothing!” Logan begins to backtrack when he realizes how his questions came across. “You - you look great. I'm just a little surprised. Would’ve assumed that you had a date tonight is all—”

He trails off when he realizes that you’re pursing your lips together in an obvious attempt to hide a smirk. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes gives you away.

“I’m just fucking with you, Logan,” you snort with a playful slap to his arm. “I know it’s a little unconventional to take yourself out on Valentine’s Day. But I’ve always loved the holiday despite being painfully single, so I thought why not? Better than sitting at home and sulking all night.”

The corners of his lips threaten to twitch upwards at the words painfully single as he contemplates the rest of your response. He can’t help but admire your way of thinking. He was content with staying holed up inside the apartment and drinking himself into a stupor, but he can’t deny that your outlook on the holiday is far less depressing and boring than his.

“What about you?” you ask as the elevator comes to a stop with a melodic ding. You exit, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Are you on your way to your Valentine’s plans?”

He chuckles at the question. For a second, he considers lying to you. He considers telling you that yes, he is on his way to pick up his date right now, just so he doesn’t have to tell you the truth – that he’s on his way to buy bourbon, cancer sticks, and lottery tickets for him and his elderly roommate. But with his luck, you’d run into Wade tomorrow and he’d open his big fucking mouth about how Logan actually spent his night, and the thought of that is even more mortifying than telling you the truth to your face.

“Not unless you count making a liquor run as Valentine’s plans,” he sighs, averting your gaze as he opens the door to the apartment building for you. “The only thing I plan on doing tonight is listen to Althea scream at her game shows.”

You come to a stop outside of the apartment building, wrapping your coat tightly around your chest to fight off the chilly night air. There’s a peculiar look on your face that Logan can’t quite read – something between amusement and hesitation.

“You could have worse dates, I suppose,” you laugh.

“That’s true,” Logan agrees. “At least I have Vanessa to thank for a Wade free evening. But I’ll let you go, don’t wanna make you late for your—”

“Do you like Korean barbecue?”

Logan freezes, taken aback by the question. He snaps his mouth shut, realizing he’s staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“Korean barbecue?” He asks lamely. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

He’s had barbecue. He’s had Korean food.. maybe? He’s been alive a really long time, he’s sure he’s had Korean food at some point in the last two hundred years.

But he can’t say that he’s had Korean barbecue.

A nervous looking grin appears on your face, and you cross your arms over your chest before taking a small step towards him.

“Are you hungry?”

••••••

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue.

You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before.

You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face.

“It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.”

Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

“It’s about the experience,” you explain with a shrug. “To be fair, when most people come to a Korean barbecue restaurant, they usually come with a group of people – hence the large amount of meat.” You nod towards the arrangement of the meats that have yet to be cooked.

“It’s a social thing. But all of my friends had plans with their significant others tonight, so…”

You trail off as the server places another tray on the table – this one covered in various colorful side dishes that he’s definitely never had before. He wouldn’t exactly describe himself as adventurous when it comes to trying new foods – for the most part, he lives off of ham and cheese sandwiches and frozen TV dinners. But he tried shawarma when he’d first arrived in this universe and ended up loving it, so he’s determined to try a bite of everything on this table.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing that you ran into me, then,” Logan murmurs when the server walks off.

You take your eyes off of the pieces of meat that you’re paying careful attention not to overcook, looking up at him through your lashes with a soft smile.

“I'd say that you’re right about that.”

••••••

Despite the breeze and the chilly night air, Logan feels perfectly toasty on the walk back to the apartment thanks to your tight hold on his arm and the wine that you had insisted that he try.

He'd learned a lot tonight – a lot about you; your hobbies and your interests. He’d learned all about Korean barbecue, and that he likes bulgogi and buldak.

Most importantly, he'd learned that he was stupid for ever being nervous about asking you out.

He feels at ease with you. He already knew he enjoys your company from all of the times that you’ve joined Wade’s movie nights and get-togethers – but he’d never been alone with you (with the exception of getting stuck in the elevator with you last week). Wade, Vanessa, Al, Peter, Yukio, and countless others always seemed to be present, making it near impossible for him to get to know you in the way that he’s wanted to since he first met you.

But now, with your arm intertwined with his and the scent of your perfume hitting him each time there is a gust of air, he knows that he is going to do all that he can to keep having moments like this with you.

“I have a question,” you state as the two of you turn onto the street where your apartment building is. Logan glances down at you in curiosity, but you’re not looking at him – you’re looking ahead, your teeth biting into your lower lip.

“What’s that?” Logan murmurs.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering up to him before quickly looking away again. “Did you actually like the kimchi?”

Logan can’t help but cackle, taken off guard by the question.

“That’s your question?” he laughs, thinking back to the spicy and tangy flavor of the fermented vegetables.

You come to a stop next to a streetlight outside of your apartment building, pulling your arm away from his to stand just inches in front of him.

“No,” you admit with a smirk. “Though I am curious about that, too.” You take a step closer to him, your chest ever so slightly brushing against his. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the way that your eyes twinkle in the glow of the streetlight.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

He thinks back to his nervous rambling in the elevator, to how you looked so pretty that he found it difficult to hold direct eye contact with you, and to how it felt like half of his brain was screaming at him to ask you out and the other half was screaming at him to not make himself look like an idiot.

Yeah, nervous is accurate.

“That obvious, huh?” he sighs.

“Just a little,” you shrug. “But don’t worry. I was too.”

“Is that right?” Logan asks, trying not to give away just how happy the confession makes him. “And what about now?”

He doesn’t have to ask – he's standing close enough to you that your increased heartrate is easy for him to detect.

“Something like that,” you whisper, and before he fully process what’s happening, you’re raising up on your tippy toes to capture his lips in yours.

The taste of the fruity wine from dinner still lingers on your lips. He places his hands on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands cradle his face, pulling him down closer to you. The warmth of you is a balm against the brisk night air, making him feel like he can’t get close enough to you. You don’t pull away until you’re breathless, looking up at him with dilated pupils in the florescent street lighting.

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building.

“What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead.

The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

It isn’t until he pulls away for air and opens his eyes that he realizes the elevator has come to a stop. It couldn’t have been moving for more than ten seconds –

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

Logan looks at the panel of buttons to his left. Sure enough, the number reads that you’re still a floor beneath your apartments. He beats his fist against the elevator wall, as if that’s actually going to help the matter.

Still pinned between his body and the wall, you pull your cell phone out from an interior pocket of your coat. You quickly find the number for building maintenance in your call history, but it just rings, and rings, and rings.

“I could probably pry the doors open,” Logan muses as he begins to pull away from you. He thinks back to how it took maintenance nearly an hour to get the elevator back up and running last week, and knows that he wouldn’t have the patience for that now. The thought of having to wait even a fraction of that long to get back to your apartment…

“Let’s not do anything that could potentially put the elevator out of commission permanently, yeah?” You pull him back to you, grabbing his face in your hand and making him look at you. “I think that we'll be just fine right here for a while.”

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans.

Oh.

All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down.

“This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

He nods, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry to speak. He helps you shimmy his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. He glances around the elevator, double checking that there aren’t any security cameras. Considering this elevator is ancient and doesn’t even function half the time, he isn’t surprised to see that there aren’t any.

You take the base of him in your hand, languidly massaging the length as you tease his slit with your tongue. You lap up the beads of pre-cum before easing him past your lips.

The sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have him twitching in your mouth. Add in how your soft lips and tongue feel working his length, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

You bob your head around him, gagging when his head juts against the back of your throat. You pull off of him, leaving a thick rope of saliva that trails from his cock to your mouth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. He could spend hours looking at you like this.

But this isn’t how he wants to finish – in your mouth, before he’s even had a chance to make you feel good. So as much as it nearly kills him to do it, he pulls himself away from your sweet lips and yanks you back up by the tops of your arms. There’s the slightest hint of disappointment on your face, but it quickly disappears when he pushes your coat off of your shoulders and down your arms. It falls to floor, leaving you in still too many articles of clothing for Logan’s liking.

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

For now, he settles for pushing the restrictive fabric of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist. He sinks to the ground in front of you, splaying his palms on your inner thighs and spreading your legs open for him. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft material of your panties, right over your clit. He feels shudder at the sensation, and notices the goosebumps that appear on the skin of your thighs.

He hooks his index finger through the cotton fabric, pulling it to the side. He looks up to see if there’s any kind of hesitation on your face, but you quickly pull him to your center by the back of his head, erasing any doubt. He chuckles lowly, and flattens his tongue over your slit.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud.

He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

His name slips through your lips, your voice strained with desperation. He loves the sound of it, and wants more than anything to hear you keep saying it. He snakes one of his hands between your thighs, and teases your hole with the tip 9t his finger. You involuntarily sink down, nudging the tip of it past your entrance.

He groans against your clit at how fucking tight you feel around his finger. God, he can’t wait to be inside you. He pumps the digit, your walls already clenching around him.

“Logan,” you moan from above him. “I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he hums against your clit. “Let go. I got you.”

Your climax washes over you with a sharp cry of his name and Logan mentally prays that the elevator walls aren’t as thin as the apartment walls.

When you go still above him, he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you and stands up. His jeans and boxers are still bunched just above his knees, his erection painfully hard and his balls full. He wipes the excess of your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then begins to stroke his own length in his fist.

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?”

“God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

His lips crash against yours as he nestles himself in between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. He coats it in your juices and eases into you slowly. You groan into his mouth and he has to try not to cum on the spot.

You’re tight, and warm, and your walls flutter around him just right. He hikes one of your thighs over his hip, deepening the angle before he pulls almost all the way out. He rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

The small, confined space is filled with the sound of your body meeting his and the sweet noises you make that are music to his ears. You grip around him like a velvet vice and he knows that he isn't going to last long.

“Gonna cum, honey,” he warns in a grunt next to your ear. “Ya feel too fuckin’ good.”

He feels your walls pulse around him at his words and he can tell that you're just as close as he is. A few more deep thrusts that hit your cervix just right and he’s spilling into you as you cum around him.

When he’s empty, his movements cease but he doesn’t pull out. He nuzzles his face against your throat, pressing kisses to the soft but sweat-slicked skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you murmur in a borderline delirious voice. He laughs, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours.

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.”

You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place.

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

not my favorite thing i've ever written by any means, i've been feeling really unmotivated to write and have felt kinda burnt out, but i still wanted to get this out before valentine's day bc if i didn't then i never would have finished it at all, lol. so i'm sorry it's short 😭 hope you still enjoyed

reblogs/comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!

[littlelamy]

hey babee!! I was wondering if you could do something smutty for Rafe and reader who is pressured to do well in school/uni and always be perfect and she has had enough and just needs to be present and not worry about things all the time and her loving boyfriend is here to help her, reassuring her and praising her, telling her she doesn't need to always be perfect and stress herself out, that he loves her always, no matter what. thank you so much in advance, I love your work 💖 this is just Rafe taking care of his stressed girl basically 😔

the lamp on your desk flickers, casting a dim glow over the stacks of notes, highlighted textbooks, and your laptop screen filled with more information than you can possibly absorb. your fingers grip at the edge of the desk, your breathing shallow, the weight of everything pressing down on you, curling tight in your chest.

rafe watches from the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed as he studies you. he’s been watching for a while, waiting for the right moment. when you sniffle, rubbing your temples with a frustrated groan, he steps in.

“baby,” he murmurs, voice soft but firm, walking up behind you. his hands slide over your shoulders, thumbs pressing into tense muscles. “take a break.”

“i can’t,” you breathe out, shaking your head, still staring at the screen. “i have to finish this. i have to get it right.”

rafe exhales slowly, his grip on you tightening slightly, grounding. “who said you have to be perfect all the time?”

you don’t answer, just swallow hard, blinking rapidly as frustration knots in your throat. you always have to be perfect. that’s just how it is. if you’re not, then what?

rafe’s hands slide down, fingers brushing over your arms before tugging you gently to your feet. “c’mon,” he says, voice gentle but insistent. “you’re done for tonight.”

“rafe—”

“no,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “you’re done.”

he pulls you away from the desk, toward the bed, pushing you down onto the mattress before he’s crawling over you, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to be perfect for me,” he murmurs against your skin, hands tracing slow, reassuring lines over your sides. “you don’t have to be anything but my girl.”

tears well up in your eyes, but they’re not from frustration this time. it’s something else, something softer, something that melts the tension in your bones.

“but—”

“no buts,” rafe whispers, lips brushing against yours, hands slipping beneath your hoodie, palms skimming along the warmth of your skin. “just let me take care of you.”

his mouth finds yours then, slow and deep, coaxing the tension out of you one kiss at a time. his hands slide lower, gripping at your thighs as he presses you further into the mattress, swallowing the little whimper that escapes you.

“there she is,” he mutters, smiling against your lips. “no more thinking. just feel, baby.”

his hands grip your hoodie, tugging it over your head before his mouth is on your neck, sucking and biting, marking you up like he wants everyone to know you’re his. his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down, groaning at the sight of you bare and needy beneath him.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes, pressing a knee between your legs to spread them wider. “been stressin’ yourself out when you should’ve been begging for my cock instead.”

heat pools in your belly, thighs clenching as he presses himself against you, the hard length of him straining against his sweats. “rafe—”

he shushes you with a kiss, tongue sliding against yours, filthy and possessive. “gonna fuck all those worries outta that pretty little head,” he rasps, rolling his hips against yours. “make you forget everything except me.”

his fingers dip between your legs, teasing, stroking, until you’re gasping, arching against him. he chuckles, low and rough. “so fuckin’ wet for me already. you needed this, didn’t you?”

before you can answer, he’s pushing inside, stretching you open, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he buries himself to the hilt. you cry out, fingers digging into his back as he starts to move, slow at first, letting you feel every thick inch of him.

“feels so fuckin’ good, baby,” he grits out, pulling back just to slam in again, harder, deeper. “this what you needed? my cock stuffing you full?”

you nod desperately, nails dragging down his back, moaning as he fucks you rough and deep, pounding every ounce of stress out of your body. “so good,” you whimper, legs locking around his waist. “need it—need you—”

“yeah?” he growls, grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head as he fucks into you faster, relentless. “gonna take it like a good girl?”

all you can do is nod, sobbing out his name as he fucks you right to the edge, pushing you over with a few more brutal thrusts, his name spilling from your lips like a sweet song as you come undone beneath him.

he groans, burying himself deep one last time before he follows, filling you up, breathless and shaking. he collapses on top of you, pressing lazy kisses along your jaw, humming in satisfaction.

“feel better now, baby?” he murmurs, smirking as you whimper at the overstimulation.

“uh-huh,” you breathe out, boneless beneath him.

he chuckles, kissing your temple. “good. now you can relax… ‘cause we’re not done yet.”

lamy's notes: i hope you liked it!

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

credits for divider @jiyascepter

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

I keep rereading "This is me trying" and I have a questions.

Did the Family set the dinner up as a test? At least, once Reader was late getting to the dinner. They had assumed she would run, not fight, and then they'd have an excuse to get rid of her permanently.

Or, on the other hand, the one time Reader isn't watching over the maid kitchen is the time the Family gets attacked? Perhaps Reader was, accidentally, guarding the one entrance no one expected. Maybe even the one entrance that was guarded? But the Family doesn't believe in coincidence. So they put together 'evidence' of Reader protecting them. (Reader asking why a maid was being shady. Closing the door when one purposely left it open. Or any other thing that Reader views as common sense that the Bat Family sees as directly protecting them, especially if outside cameras of the same timestamps show mobilized groups.)

(Hell, maybe the maids waited until Reader was obviously not showing up because they like her?)

I also am wondering if Bruce immediately tried to change Reader's school, or if he forgets he never enrolled her in Gotham Academy?

It'd be kinda funny for Duke or Damian's to search their school for Reader, only to realize she was never there. They just thought she had been good at hiding for years. The two question it, but don't say anything to Bruc. And then they see her as the captain of the cheer team of a rival school they're going against. Gotham Academy loses to Gotham Public and everyone goes wild.

But Duke and Damian, and anyone of the Family that came to watch with them, notice how the Football team acts towards Reader. When they try to confront Reader about it, Reader laughs at them.

Or maybe, when Bruce does try to enroll them and give Reader the Wayne name, and the Reader gets told, she rushes to get re-enrolled in her school? She scrubs the Wayne off her name and goes on like usual. Which gets her dragged in front of Bruce by Tim.

When confronted, Reader tells Bruce, "You said I earned the name Wayne. Because I showed loyalty and a willingness to protect you at all costs to myself. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Why would I want the Wayne name?"

"Excuse you?" Tim interjects incredulously.

"None of you have ever shown loyalty towards me. I haven't even been living in the Manor. Most of my stuff has been moved out since I was 11. I only come back because I hoped that I could have a family in any of you. I hate coming back. I hate staying here. I rarely ever do, unless I'm called back by Alfred for one of your parties that I'm not even allowed to show my face at. It's the one time that I don't 'sit guard' in the maid's kitchen that all of you got attacked. I could have left you to yourselves. I was tempted."

"So." Bruce leaned back in his chair, fingers digging into the arms of his seat. "Why didn't you?"

"Because, I didn't want you to die. I may not trust you. But I am loyal to you, even if it's only to the extent of caring whether you live or die. Something you've never directed towards me. Why would I take the Wayne name when you've never done anything to win my loyalty? You already know I'm loyal. But I'm not loyal to you the way I could be if I considered you family."

"You'd kill for us. You'd sacrifice your life and die for us. But you do not consider us family?"

"I didn't come to your gala to begin with because I was with people I consider family. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, after all. The bonds I've forged with others will always be stronger than the ones I carry out of obligation. I'm not even on your insurance. I've been getting medical care from back alley clinics or through the people who decided I was worth caring about. For now, I'm an easily disposable tool to you. As a tool, I don't want your name. It'll only cause more issues."

"Issues? What issues could you possibly have being called a Wayne?" Tim cut in again.

"A lone and very disposable Wayne, with no support system, no underlings, no money, and very little power. One would think this is you trying to get me killed or trafficked. A mutt in a den of wolves."

"Alone and disposable. That's quiet the statement, (Y/N). What makes you think that?"

"Years of me being loyal. Of trying my best. Of desperation to simply be looked at as more than a burden or the daughter of a whore, as you all love to call my mother. You have shown, time and again, that I am not worth any amount of loyalty. Why should I trust you? I know you don't you trust me. You only trust I'd die for you. Kill for you. Why would I live for you? You have never earned it."

And goes to walk out like a badass. Only to pause at the door, as Bruce and Tim are staring at her in stunned silence. "My name is (Y/N) (L/N). And until you can earn more than my loyalty, I refuse to bear yours."

Reader's face breaks from being just as stone cold as Bruce's, revealing a soft smile.

"When I first came to the Manor, I wanted to be a Wayne. Not for money or power. But because I loved my father, on the principle that that was what he was. My father. When I finally realized you'd never see me as a daughter, I stopped seeing you as anything more than a sperm donor. Earn being my father, or stop pretending you want me to have your name."

Ho is you a mind reader?

No they definitely didn't do it as a test, Bruce would never willingly put himself in a position where he's vulnerable and have his family 'rely' on Reader, even if it's just a test.

Ok so, for the maid thing, ur on the right track!! I don't wanna spoil too much so i'm not gonna say anything!!!!

Also Bruce kinda just forgot about reader going to school period, and you're so right about the WHOLE school thing!! it's like you took it right out my drafts LMAO!!!

You predicted a lot of future chapter plot points ngl but with the whole Bruce and Reader confrontation, you wrote it really good but thats more IBLD reader vibes! This reader is more scared of Bruce, she won't outright challenge or disobey him, she knows better. This version of Batfamily is darker and crueler than IBLD bc they're not heroes. Also, reader is 15, she's not gonna talk to the Godfather of the American mob like that, father or not! This was beautifully written though!! Thank you so much ily <3333

[authorhjk1]

Choi Sooyoung Hot Pink Dress

https://search.app.goo.gl/Hyk6RNG

Hot pink

(Sooyoung X Male Reader)

Since you've hired Sooyoung as your secretary, you've wondered if her husband will ever realize how sexy her clothes are, which you make her wear, or how you have used her pussy more often in a day than he has in weeks. It was even him, who suggested her to you, after you mentioned that you were looking for one. And now, you don't fuck Sooyoung after you get off work, you fuck her several times during work and then take her home to fuck her again.

At this point, you're fucking her so often, you wonder if her husband might actually know what's going on and just pretends to be oblivious. Her outfits get more revealing each day as you test the limits, while she doesn't mind openly flirting with you. Several times the two of you almost got caught by him, but that only seemed to turn Sooyoung on even more, once she knew the two of you were safe again.

Even today, you almost laughed at how some of your male employees looked after her, every time she got up from her desk. Her long legs, her naked shoulders, her perfect ass. That dress she is wearing is completely inappropriate and yet, you are the one who told her to wear it.

All of that goes through your mind, while you're listening to her husband's presentation. You and five of your employees sit around a table inside one of the meeting rooms, while following his words. Suddenly you flinch, almost letting out a sharp groan. You lean back a little further to look underneath the table. Sooyoung is kneeling underneath it, her mouth wrapped around your cock the hand with her wedding ring on it holding your base, while her husband is only standing a few meters away.

The two of you didn't plan on doing this. While you were enjoying her blowjob, you lost track of time and only remembered too late that the next meeting would start early. So here you are, with Sooyoung stuck underneath the table, sucking you off while you listen to her husband talk.

At first you tried your best to focus and listen, but she did her best to distract you from the get go. Her lips sliding up and down your shaft, her right hand stroking your base where her lips barely reach, her other hand stroking your thigh almost lovingly, her hair that occasionally gets in her way and tickles your skin before she puts it back again. All of it makes you crazy. Silently.

Now, you're checking your watch every few seconds, while doing your best to hold on. You don't want to cum in the middle of the meeting, you doubt you'll be able to hide it. The last couple of minutes feel like a thousand years and you could swear Sooyoung is doubling her efforts as her husband reaches the end of his presentation.

You almost gasp when she removes her hand from your cock and takes all of you down her throat a second later. Her muscles tighten around your shaft while you hear her muffled chokes. You're so damn lucky that everyone is focused on the Power Point presentation and her husband speaks loud enough to cover up most of her noises.

Once it's finally over, you nod in approval, because you're unable to talk without stuttering. Your employees eventually leave the room and just as her husband walks through the door, you hear Sooyoung spit on your cock, before she strokes your length to distribute her saliva everywhere equally. It seems like he didn't hear her and as soon as he closes the door behind him, you push your chair away from the table.

"Get out of there."

Sooyoung follows your order, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

You knew from the beginning that she didn't just offer her body to you to keep her husband employed. It was obvious that she loved the idea of her husband's boss using her like a toy. But occasionally, just like during the meeting, you feel like she is the one toying with you. And of course, now you need to remind her that you're the boss.

"Bend over."

Once she is leaning over the table, you hike up her dress and align your cock with her pussy. She has been your secretary for maybe two months now and since day one you told her not wear panties at work. It makes fucking her whenever and wherever so much easier.

"Oh, fuck."

Sooyoung moans out as you push past her lips and into her pussy.

Leaning over her, you admire her naked upper back and shoulders by peppering her skin with kisses as you thrust into her again and again. You go rather slow and gentle at first, but Sooyoung's moans and her tight body soon awaken your carnal desire to just ruin her on top of this table. Reaching out, you grab a fistful of her short hair, making her back arch beautifully, while your other hand squeeze one of her butt cheeks.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight."

You groan, praising her pussy as you pound into it.

The table soon begins to shake and makes noises, but they don't compare to Sooyoung's moans and gasps. She shouts your name when you pull her hair a little harder and begs you for more when you slap her ass.

But eventually, you can feel how your orgasm is building. The meeting felt like an eternity, but fucking Sooyoung seemed to only last a second. You're still contemplating on where to cum as she looks over her shoulder at you, her hair now free as you use both your hands on her waist to pull her onto your cock.

"Cum all over me. Paint my body."

Her moaned request makes you grip her waist even tighter. You wish you weren't at work right now. Cuming all over her while she's still wearing that dress sounds like a beautiful sin. But you know that that would be too far.

You can feel how you only have a couple of thrusts left and quickly make a decision. It takes you a little bit of effort to pull out of her tight pussy, Sooyoung's lower lips gripping your cock like a vice. But once you do manage that, you pull her closer. Still bent over, her head is now resting on the edge of the table. You dig your fingers into her hair again, pinning her cheek against the wooden surface.

When you finally orgasm, you paint her right cheek completely white with your cum. Sooyoung gasps at it's warmth hits her skin and opens her mouth when she feels it slowly dripping down. After squeezing all of your cum out, you stumble back into the chair and stare at Sooyoung, who's still bent over the tae, her face on its surface. You watch how she does her best to capture the cum, which is partially falling off her cheek, with her tongue.

Eventually, her cheek is only glistening with a thin layer of your cum. Sooyoung stands up and pulls the hem of her dress down again, before looking at you.

"My parents in law are coming over for dinner so I have to stay home tonight."

You nod in understanding as she walks towards the door.

"I'm gonna ask my husband to invite you too. What do you want me to wear?"

[wholemeallbread]

shidou is a huge copycat. whatever you have, he wants it.

every time you go shopping together, he watches with wonder as you pick out things that are your style. he follows you around like a puppy, secretly slipping in a matching pair of what you pick out in his size. men's or women's section, he'll go anywhere if he can wear the same thing.

jewellery is a no brainer. you own a hefty amount of matching jewellery with him, so much so that you're convinced he's trying to tell other people to get the hint. you're together, dating, partners, companions, a duo, and you're only his. he'll even let you choose what jewellery should go in each of his piercings. if it's uncomfortable, he doesn't care, because your opinion is more important.

sometimes you accidentally wear his sweatpants instead of yours, but he's more than happy to switch, his size or not. whenever you go on dates, you look more like twins, and he's more than happy to accept that. if anyone gifts you anything, he's got to have one of his own too! bothersome? maybe... but he's always shown his love in weird ways – you've gotten used to it by now.

[venussaidso]

Sun nakshatra natives need to be careful around people who could harvest their energy. Sometimes they may not even realize it, especially when they pour energy into others. Perhaps its other people perceiving them as nurturing and inspiring, even if they may not intentionally come across that way. But they could attract addicts, in the sense that others may become obsessed with their 'rejuvenating' presence. This, in turn, can cause confusion to the natives when they begin to wonder if they're even liked for themselves or for what others get out of them.

This happened with my Krittika ASC friend who had an energy vampire attached to her. He would generally breadcrumb her — a signal that he doesn't really like her — but then when he needs that energy fix, he knew where to go. And she didn't realize her energy was being harvested until she was completely drained in the situationship, and basically ranted everything to me.

I told her to watch Sex & the City because her situationship is exactly the same as Carrie Bradshaw & Mr Big's. Isn't it a wonderful coincidence that Carrie Bradshaw is portrayed by a Krittika ASC native?

Anyways, Mr Big was never in love with Carrie Bradshaw. He was obsessed with her solar energy, being the low vibrational male he is. Her energy supply was his biggest fix. Those moments when he'd hit her telephone up? Show up to her doorstep? Call her when sick? When he never claimed her!? When he would ditch her the very next moment after he got that fix!? Yeah, that's exactly what happened to my friend. As soon as the energy vampire got their fix, they were back to normal and good to ghost.

And I know why anyone would be obsessed with my friend. Her energy is so... addictive. There was never a single moment where I felt drained after hanging out with her. In fact, when I'd go home, I'd think back to our conversations that day and feel some kind of rejuvenation & joy, and I'd want to hang out more. She's just so full of life and people may want to get a hold of that. Think of solar energy as fuel. FUEL.

[writeriguess]

Hello! I hope you had a great day/night🥰

I was wondering If you could make a smutty fem reader x katsuki bakugo

the reader and bakugo have been together for some time and every time they had sex nothing really happened, the did it, did aftercare and went to bed (most of the times) but this time the reader was at bakugo's house visiting him but for some reason bakugo gets riled up and wants to do it with the reader, his parents weren't in the house anyway so he didn't need to stress about someone interrupting so in the end they end up having sex.

But katsukis mom and dad comes early and he doesn't notice, while the reader and katsuki are doing their thing Mitsuki hears strange noises come from bakugos bedroom. She ends up curious and walks towards his room to find out what was happening but then is meet with you and katsuki.

Katsuki gets really embarrassed but mitsuki isn't mad, instead she shouts "Are you finally making my grandkids"

You don't need to write a fanfic about this! You have full right to delete! But this is just an idea that has been roaming in my head for days and I just really want someone to write a fic abt this😅

Anyways! I won't be sad or mad if you delete this, write it if only you're comfortable❤️

(Also sorry for shifting between bakugo and katsuki I didn't know which of them to use😅)

Heat of the Moment

The thing about Bakugo was that he had control. Most of the time.

Sure, he had a temper, and yeah, he was easy to rile up in a fight, but when it came to you? He always kept himself in check. He never let himself get too lost in it, never let his instincts take over, because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

That was… until tonight.

You weren’t even trying to be subtle. Maybe it was the fact that his parents were gone, maybe it was just because you wanted to push his buttons, but every little thing you did was setting him off.

The way you sat so close to him on the couch, your thigh pressed against his. The way your fingers lazily traced the muscles in his forearm while you pretended to be watching the movie on the screen. The way you leaned in, lips just barely ghosting over his ear as you whispered, “You’re so tense, Katsuki… want me to help you relax?”

And fuck, he tried. He really fucking tried to ignore it. To just smirk and brush it off like you weren’t making his dick throb with every slow, deliberate movement.

But when you climbed onto his lap, straddling him without a second thought, and rolled your hips down against the growing bulge in his sweats?

That was it. That was the fucking breaking point.

His hands were on you in an instant, rough and possessive as he grabbed your waist and slammed you back down against his hard length. “You think you’re fuckin’ cute, don’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous, but the way his cock twitched against you gave away just how much you were affecting him.

You bit your lip, looking down at him with those teasing eyes that had been driving him insane all night. “Maybe,” you mused, rolling your hips again, slow and deliberate. “Are you gonna do something about it?”

A guttural growl rumbled in his chest before he flipped you onto your back, pressing you into the couch with his weight. His knee shoved between your thighs, spreading you open for him as he loomed over you, crimson eyes dark and full of hunger.

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than something, baby,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. One hand shot under your shirt, fingers finding your breast and squeezing, rolling your nipple between his rough fingertips as his other hand slid down to your shorts. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

You gasped as he shoved your shorts down, not bothering with finesse. His fingers slid between your thighs, pressing against your already slick folds. “Fuck,” he groaned, a smirk tugging at his lips. “All this from a little teasing? You’re such a fuckin’ slut for me, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, hips arching into his touch, and he chuckled darkly. “Nah, don’t even try to play shy now. You wanted this.”

And then he was lining up, shoving his sweats down just enough to free his cock. Thick, hard, already leaking precum. He didn’t even tease—he just grabbed your hips, lined up, and thrust inside in one deep stroke.

The stretch was sudden, almost too much, but fuck, the way he groaned against your neck made it impossible to care. “So fuckin’ tight,” he growled, giving you barely a second to adjust before pulling out and slamming back in, hard and fast.

You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist as he set a relentless pace, hips snapping against yours with loud, wet slaps. Every thrust had your head spinning, had your body arching up into him as he fucked you deep into the couch.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, huh?” he panted, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanted me to snap? Wanted me to fuck you like I couldn’t wait another second?”

You moaned, nails digging into his back, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he drove into you even harder. “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, lips trailing down your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect—made for me.”

His name fell from your lips over and over, breathless and desperate, and he drank in every sound, every little whimper. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, pounding into you with reckless abandon. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You didn’t even need to be told. The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure hitting you like a shockwave as your walls clamped down around him. Your whole body shook, a high-pitched moan spilling from your lips as you came hard around his cock.

Bakugo snarled, hips stuttering as he chased his own release, burying himself as deep as he could before spilling inside you with a guttural groan. His grip on your wrists tightened as he rode it out, panting against your neck before finally collapsing on top of you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing of both of you trying to come back down from the high. Then, finally, Bakugo chuckled, low and satisfied.

“Next time you wanna tease me,” he murmured, voice still husky from exertion, “just tell me you wanna get fucked stupid, princess.”

You giggled breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp hair. “Noted.”

Though, judging by the way his cock twitched inside you again, it seemed like one round wasn’t going to be enough tonight.

A while later, you were on it again.

Katsuki had barely given you a break before he was all over you, flipping you onto your stomach and muttering about how you were gonna “pay for riling him up like that.” Not that you were complaining.

The only problem? He was so lost in you that he didn’t hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the sound of keys dropping into the bowl.

Didn’t hear the unmistakable click of his mother’s heels as she walked down the hallway.

You, on the other hand, froze the second you heard a voice call out:

“We’re home! Bakugo, did you clean the—”

And then, before either of you could react, before Katsuki could even think to move—

The bedroom door swung open.

Mitsuki Bakugo stood there, eyes wide, taking in the absolute disaster of a scene before her. Her son, bare-ass naked, hovering over you. Your face buried in the pillow, Katsuki’s hands gripping your hips. The sheer horror on your face as you registered what was happening.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

“HOLY FUCK, MOM—!”

Katsuki launched himself off of you, scrambling for the sheets in sheer panic. You barely managed to yank a blanket over yourself before Mitsuki’s voice rang through the house:

“ARE YOU FINALLY MAKING MY GRANDKIDS?!”

You wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Instant cardiac arrest. Take me now.

Katsuki’s face was redder than his damn explosions. “WHAT THE HELL, OLD HAG? GET OUT!!”

But Mitsuki wasn’t done. No, she was grinning. Grinning. Hands on her hips like this was the best news of her life.

“Damn, about time!” she continued, ignoring the way Katsuki was practically combusting. “I was starting to think you were incapable—”

“SHUT UP!!” Katsuki grabbed the nearest object—a pillow—and launched it at her with enough force to send it flying down the hallway.

Mitsuki just cackled, dodging effortlessly. “Make sure you’re using protection, brat—unless you’re actually trying to give me grandkids—”

“OUT!!”

With one last laugh, she finally strolled out, still muttering about how she was “too young to be a grandma, but still, wouldn’t mind a little mini-Katsuki running around.”

The moment the door slammed shut, Katsuki flopped onto his back, covering his face with both hands.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you could speak.

Until finally, after what felt like an eternity, you whispered:

“…So, uh. Round three?”

Katsuki groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way he rolled back over you said otherwise.

[vigilante-3073]

LOML

Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: The story of how Y/N L/N fell in love with Emily Prentiss.

TW: Flirting, pining, WLW, Y/N is smitten, betting, proposal/engagement.

When Y/N saw Emily Prentiss on her first day at the BAU, it was love at first sight. Y/N had never seen a more beautiful woman and she was completely gobsmacked.

Emily had kind of appeared out of nowhere, catching Hotch and Gideon by surprise. Y/N made her way into the bullpen as she chatted with Reid, coffees in hand from their favorite cafe.

Spencer looked over at his friend when she suddenly fell silent, her gaze set on the young woman who arranged her items on a new desk beside Y/N's.

"Wow," Y/N mumbled softly, watching the woman smile as she thanked the facilities management worker for putting together her chair.

"Wonder who that is?" Spencer questioned.

"No idea, but I want to find out," Y/N said.

"She's obviously joining the team, don't you think that might not be the best idea," Spencer advised.

"Or maybe she's my ridiculously hot soulmate and we just haven't met yet," Y/N proposed.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly who she is," Spencer smiled, shaking his head and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Come on, we're going to introduce ourselves," Y/N said, already making her way over to the woman. Spencer followed after her, lingering awkwardly behind her as Y/N approached the new agent.

"Hi, you must be new, I'm Y/N L/N," She said.

The woman smiled, "It's nice to meet you, I'm Emily Prentiss," She said, holding out her hand.

Y/N shook her hand, gaze flickering down quickly to check for a wedding ring before returning to Emily's face. She obviously noticed the glance, but chose not to comment on it.

"Oh, this is my partner. He doesn't shake hands, but he's happy to be here," Y/N said, releasing Emily's hand.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid," He greeted, offering a small wave.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm really excited to be a part of this team and I look forward to working with everyone," Emily said.

"It's a really good team. I'm sure you'll fit right in," Y/N said.

Emily nodded, "Thank you for saying that. I just want to do a good job and this opportunity means everything," Emily said.

"Has anyone given you the tour?" Y/N asked.

"Not quite yet," Emily replied.

"I have some free time now if you're interested," Y/N offered.

"That would be great," Emily smiled.

"Oh, I thought we were gonna-," Spencer started, falling silent when Y/N shot him a pleading look.

"You know what, nevermind. Have fun," Spencer said.

Y/N walked around the building with Emily, showing her where everything was located before they eventually returned to the bullpen.

JJ was leaning back on the edge of Spencer's desk, chatting with him while he fidgeted with his pencil. JJ looked up, a stack of case files held close to her chest, "Hey, you must be Emily. Spencer told me that you'd be joining the team, I'm Jennifer but everyone calls me JJ," She said, standing from the desk and offering her hand to Emily.

She shook her hand, "Nice to meet you, JJ... You're the media liason, right?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, that would be me," JJ nodded, releasing her hand and holding onto her files.

"Y/N tells me that you're one of the reasons this place is still standing," Emily said.

JJ huffed a laugh, "I wouldn't go that far, but I'm definitely here to help," She said.

Hotch walked passed them, making his way towards his office, "Actually, I have to run but it was great meeting you, Emily," JJ said, quickly following after Hotch.

"We have a case?" Y/N asked, Spencer nodded.

"Briefing in twenty minutes," He said.

"Perfect timing," Y/N stated.

...

Emily had been a member of the BAU for just over a year and Y/N fell more in love with her every day. Y/N knew that Spencer was right, workplace romances were incredibly messy and she could settle for pining in secret.

Or more accurately, pining about Emily to her best friend.

Spencer had to commend her, Y/N was madly in love with Emily but kept it hidden for the sake of the team. Everything the woman did made Y/N swoon and Spencer was beginning to have a hard time keeping her feet on the ground.

It also didn't help that Emily also seemed to have feelings for Y/N in return. They talked every day, dancing around their feelings as they both tried not to cross the line. Their connection seemed to be obvious to everyone except the two of them.

It was honestly a little pathetic to see two highly trained FBI Profilers ignore the behaviors they exhibited, pretending that nothing was going on.

Morgan had even started a betting pool two months after Emily started. Bets were placed on who would make the first move and how long it would take them to admit their feelings.

Spencer dealt out the cards on the table between him and Y/N. He picked up his cards, arranging them in his hand before he looked up at his friend. Spencer let out a small sigh when he realized that Y/N was staring fondly at something across the jet.

He turned in his seat, following her gaze to find Emily working on a case file. Her eyes were downcast as she scribbled notes onto the margins of her case file.

Y/N looked away as soon as the dark-haired woman lifted her head, offering a lingering look of her own. Spencer turned back towards Y/N, "Alright, I give up," He admitted.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asked.

"Just ask her out," Spencer said.

Y/N shook her head, gathering her cards and adjusting them in her hand, "You know I can't," She said softly.

"Do you think being with her would make you happy?" Spencer questioned.

"It's not just about happiness, Spencer. What if we got together and had a messy break up?" Y/N replied, a point that Spencer had made almost a year ago.

"And what if you don't? What if you spent all this time pining after her when you could have been the happiest you could ever hope to be?" He asked.

"It's unlikely," Y/N replied.

"Is it? Because I have never seen you act like this... Hell, I've never seen anyone look at someone else the way that you look at her. You love her, Y/N," Spencer said.

Y/N glanced over at Emily, meeting her gaze and receiving a soft smile and a small wave. Y/N smiled back, feeling her heart race in her chest and butterflies flutter around in her stomach.

Y/N returned her gaze to Spencer, "I'll think about it," She replied softly, setting a card on the pile.

The rest of the plane ride went by quickly and everyone returned to the office to complete their paperwork. They worked quietly with sparse chatter about their plans for the evening.

Spencer could see Emily glancing over at Y/N, pausing her work as if she was deep in thought before reluctantly returning to her paperwork. Rossi turned in his report, bidding the team a quick goodnight before rushing out of the office. Hotch would likely stay in his office for most of the night and JJ would spend a few hours looking through case files before calling it a night.

An awkward tension had settled in the bullpen as Spencer completed his report, sitting stiffly at his desk as he pretended to add more notes. Morgan lingered at his desk as well, watching Emily and Y/N out of the corner of his eye.

Someone needed to do something soon.

The lasting game of chicken was beginning to become unbearable until Y/N stood from her desk. The remaining team members watched her walk up to Hotch's office and turn in her paperwork.

It almost felt like the tension had reached its peak, no one was willing to move a muscle as Y/N returned to her seat and began to pack up her things. Emily took a breath, setting down her pen and pushing her chair back before standing up.

Spencer looked over at Morgan, any attempts to be discreet now forgotten as Emily approached Y/N.

"Hey, Y/N," Emily said softly.

Y/N looked up at her, "Is everything okay?" She asked.

"I wanted to ask if you'd go out for dinner with me tonight... Just the two of us," Emily said, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Yeah, that would be great," She nodded, "Do you need me to wait for you to finish your report?" Y/N questioned.

Emily shifted on her feet, "Actually, I should be more clear. I'm asking you out... On a date," Emily said slowly.

Y/N paused, looking up at her, "You're asking me out?" She asked.

"I am," Emily replied hesitantly.

"Okay," Y/N said, her heart beginning to race in her chest.

"Okay?" Emily repeated.

Y/N smiled, "I'd love to go on a date with you, Emily Prentiss," She said.

"Good. Um, I'll go turn this in and we can go," Emily said, unable to keep the smile off her face.

"Okay," Y/N nodded, her own smile widening.

Emily gathered her paperwork before rushing up to Hotch's office. Morgan huffed, pulling his wallet out and counting out a stack of bills before setting them in Spencer's outstretched palm.

"You hustled me and I don't know how you managed it, but I'm gonna figure it out," Morgan said, pointing a finger at the young genius as he counted the bills happily.

"You keep telling yourself that, Morgan," Spencer replied.

"You bet on us?" Y/N asked.

"Everyone did. The pool has been going since a few months after she started," Morgan said, tilting his head in the direction of Hotch's office. He stood from his chair and began to pack up, "An extra hour of sitting here just to lose all my money," He muttered, shaking his head.

Emily made her down the stairs and returned to her desk, "What's going on?" She asked.

"They bet on us," Y/N said.

"How much?" Emily asked.

"Five hundred that you'd be the one to admit it first. Three hundred that it'd be a year and a half before either of you caved," Morgan said, walking up to Hotch's office with his report.

"Glad our relationship has made a profit for you, Reid," Emily teased, pulling on her coat.

"Have fun on your date," He smiled.

"We will," Y/N nodded.

...

Y/N and Emily had been together for exactly four years to the day and they could never imagine being with anyone else. Hotch had given the team one of their incredibly rare days off and the couple were going out to celebrate their anniversary.

Emily had made a reservation for them at the same restaurant where they had their first date. They shared a bottle of champagne and ate their favorite meals before splitting an amazing dessert.

Emily and Y/N walked down the road, following the same path through the nearby public park as they had years prior. They shared their first kiss after that date in this very park.

Emily took Y/N's hand in hers, smiling at her when she looked over, "I can't believe it's been four years," Emily stated.

"You can't be sick of me already, Em," Y/N teased.

"I could never be sick of you," Emily replied easily, watching Y/N's cheeks flush as she smiled.

They made their way around a bend that led to the spot where Emily had kissed the love of her life for the first time. Y/N slowed to a stop when she noticed the fairy lights strung up in the tree branches. Small candles were set up along the path with rose petals scattered on the ground.

Emily continued to walk, gently pulling Y/N along with her. As they got closer, Y/N noticed a bouquet of roses and a bunch of framed photos from their relationship on the park bench where they had sat after their first date.

"Emily, it's beautiful," Y/N smiled, Emily nodded.

"I have something very important to ask you," Emily said, her hand slipping into her coat pocket. Emily slowly lowered herself down onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from her pocket and opening it.

"Y/N, you are my soulmate. I have never felt a love like the one I have for you. You are extraordinary and I can't imagine going another day without you by my side... Will you marry me?" Emily asked shakily, tears gathering in her eyes.

Y/N stared down at her with glossy eyes, "Emily," She mumbled, slipping a hand into her pocket.

Y/N pulled out a velvet box of her own, opening it up and holding it out, "I was gonna ask you the exact same question," She said.

Emily smiled, unable to keep herself from letting out a teary laugh as she stood up. Emily cupped her cheek and kissed her, her other hand settling on Y/N's waist and pulling her closer.

Emily pulled away, "That was even better than a yes," She smiled.

Y/N nodded, "You always beat me to the punch, Em. That's why I love you so much," Y/N said, wiping the happy tears from her cheeks.

Emily plucked her ring from the box, sliding it onto Y/N's finger before she repeated the gesture.

"Well, I guess my proposal is a bit thrown off now. But I do have the team waiting for us at a bar down the street," Y/N said.

"The one with the beautiful garden in the back?" Emily asked, Y/N nodded.

"You're not gonna believe this, but I actually tried to book that room before I decided to do this," Emily said.

"Great minds think alike," Y/N smiled.

"They definitely do," Emily nodded.

"Who helped you set everything up?" Y/N asked.

"JJ, you?" Emily asked.

"Reid," Y/N stated.

"I wonder how much money Morgan is going to lose when we show up already engaged," Emily said.

"Well, I wonder how much money Spencer is going to win for knowing it was a double proposal and not telling Morgan," Y/N said.

"That is a very good question," Emily smiled, wrapping her arm around Y/N's waist as they walked down the path in the direction of the bar.

[cece693]

Not Going to Change, Honey

pairing: carlisle cullen x male reader tags: evil reader, he doesn't really have morals tbh, Carlisle is your mate, rocky relationship, unresolved conflict, part 2 if people want it

For all the centuries Carlisle Cullen had roamed the earth, he had never encountered anyone quite like you. He had seen grandeur in architecture, brilliance in art, and compassion in the tender eyes of mortals. But when he first laid eyes on you—one of the Volturi’s most lethal guards—he was utterly unprepared for the impact you would have on him.

Carlisle’s initial impression was one of quiet awe. You stood poised in the grand reception hall of the Volturi fortress, clad in the distinctive blood-red cloak that symbolized your allegiance to Aro. Long, elegant lines formed your silhouette—every inch of you exuded a kind of potent, dangerous allure that was hard to ignore. Perhaps it was the severe cut of your jaw or the dark gleam in your eyes that made Carlisle’s breath catch. But despite the warning prickle of tension in the air, there was something undeniably captivating in your presence.

“I presume you are the esteemed Dr. Cullen,” you said smoothly, voice as cold and refined as the marble walls around you.

Carlisle inclined his head, forcing himself to maintain calm even though his chest felt inexplicably tight. “Yes. Carlisle Cullen,” he replied politely. “I recently arrived at Aro’s invitation.”

You surveyed him with an intensity that made him feel as though every thought he had was laid bare. Carlisle found his gaze lingering on the sharp contour of your cheeks and the elegant line of your mouth. There was a deadly grace about you, but more than that, a magnetic pull he couldn’t explain.

“Word of your…unique lifestyle precedes you,” you remarked, a slight edge of amusement curling your lips. “I suppose you’ll find Volterra quite different from your usual endeavors.”

Carlisle almost smiled in return. “I suspect I will,” he said quietly. Then he glanced around, torn between fascination and a subtle dread of the Volturi’s rigorous methods. “Though I’m eager to see what the Volturi’s world is truly like.”

You nodded curtly, turning on your heel to guide him deeper into the fortress. The moment you moved, Carlisle found himself transfixed by the fluidity of your steps, by the swish of your cloak. He wondered if you realized how captivating you were, or if cruelty and power were all you cared to claim as your own.

As time slipped by in Volterra, Carlisle discovered the Volturi’s customs and tactics were indeed difficult to reconcile with his beliefs. Yet, even amid that discord, he found himself drawn to you. You were everything Carlisle was not: ruthless, unwavering in your loyalty to Aro, and wholly accepting of a vampire’s predator nature. And yet, it was your contradictions that made you all the more alluring.

Carlisle had never believed in the concept of “opposites attract” until he crossed paths with you in the fortress library. He had been reading an antique medical text by the pale light of an ornate lamp, trying to distract himself from the day’s unsettling events, when he heard the soft echo of footsteps.

“Does Cullen also dabble in the history of human medicine?” you teased as you approached, a crimson sash draped diagonally across your chest. Your posture was perfect, your head held high.

Carlisle looked up, the faintest warmth creeping into his golden eyes. “I’ve devoted my life to saving humans. It’s…a passion.” He paused, watching as you took a seat across from him, uninvited and unbothered. “I’m surprised to see you here. I didn’t realize you had an interest in medicine.”

Your lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I don’t. But I was curious to see what keeps you tucked away in this dusty library night after night.”

Something about your directness made Carlisle’s throat tighten. He shut the old tome carefully, inhaling the scent of aged paper. “And now that you’ve seen me, what do you think?”

Leaning forward, you regarded him thoughtfully, your crimson eyes lingering on the gentle lines of his face. Your gaze was unsettling, piercing, but Carlisle found it shockingly intimate. “I think you’re a man out of place—yet you keep striving to adapt. There’s something admirable about that.” Then your smile vanished. “But I also think you’re naive to believe you can find any goodness here.”

Carlisle’s lips parted slightly. “There must be some measure of order, of morality, if the Volturi have kept the vampire world hidden so efficiently for so long. It can’t be all cruelty.”

“Morality?” You laughed under your breath, a low and dangerous sound. “Is that what you think you’ll find among us?” You shook your head, your eyes glinting. “Aro is cunning; Caius is cruel. Marcus is…numb. Morality is a tool, wielded only when convenient.”

And yet, as you spoke, Carlisle couldn’t help but notice how the lamplight highlighted the sculpted angle of your cheekbone, the richness of your voice, the slender cords of muscle in your neck as you half-turned away. He felt drawn to you, as though in another life, you might have fit in the place he dreamed of—somewhere far gentler.

As the weeks passed, Carlisle had more and more reason to question the Volturi’s practices. He witnessed the methodical punishments, the harsh interrogations, and the unwavering loyalty demanded of each guard. And yet, in quiet moments, he also witnessed small kindnesses from you—fleeting but unmistakably real.

Once, in a secluded corridor, he caught you covertly offering a sympathetic word to a newly turned vampire, shaken and afraid. You hid it behind a stern command, but Carlisle recognized the concern flickering in your eyes. Another time, you saved a mortal servant from the wrath of another guard who had lost control. Though you claimed it was only for efficiency’s sake, Carlisle saw the truth. You possessed a depth of compassion you refused to acknowledge.

You confronted Carlisle one evening by the window of the fortress’s grand hall, where silvery moonlight reflected on the polished floor. He was staring out into the silent streets of Volterra, hands clasped behind his back.

“What are you really looking for, Carlisle?” you asked, voice hushed yet insistent.

“I’m not sure,” He answered honestly. “Perhaps reassurance that I made the right choice coming here—or proof that I should leave.”

You lifted your chin, a scoff escaping your lips. “If you despise our methods so much, why stay?”

Carlisle’s gaze drifted to your face, gentling as he took in the faint lines of tension on your brow. “Because I’d hoped to find something good here—someone I could help redeem. And I…” He swallowed, voice trembling with emotion. “I’d hoped you might join me in that.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, you raised a pale hand to brush an errant lock of hair back from his temple. The touch was achingly gentle, contradictory to your reputation for merciless skill in battle.

“Why waste your compassion on me?” you whispered, red eyes flickering.

Carlisle felt his throat tighten at the quiet vulnerability in your question. “It isn’t a waste,” he murmured, turning his head just enough to press into your hand. “I see your strength, your elegance, and beneath it all, a heart that still cares.”

Your lips parted slightly in a faint expression of surprise, but you hardened your gaze, retracting your hand as though burned. “Don’t romanticize me, Carlisle. You’ll only be disappointed.”

Yet, despite your dismissive words, Carlisle could see the faint quiver of your jaw—proof that not everything in you was made of stone.

Carlisle wanted to stay with you—see the connection between you blossom into that of mates—but as time went on, his resolve to leave the Volturi grew stronger. He couldn’t reconcile his moral code with the violence he saw. The tipping point came when he witnessed an unjust execution—one Aro insisted was necessary to maintain secrecy. Carlisle found himself unable to stand by as a life, no matter how tainted, was extinguished without mercy.

He sought you out in the ancient corridor lit by flickering torches. Stone arches framed you like an immortal sculpture, and for a moment, Carlisle’s heart clenched at how beautiful you appeared—like a painting come to life.

“I’m leaving,” he said softly but firmly, stepping closer than he ever had before. “I can’t stay here and watch this cruelty. It goes against everything I believe.”

Your expression hardened, but your eyes betrayed a flash of pain. “So, that’s it?” you asked, voice low. “You leave because reality offends your delicate conscience?”

Carlisle exhaled shakily. “It’s not about being offended. It’s about upholding the sanctity of life. You know that’s my creed.”

You swallowed, the torchlight catching in your hair, illuminating your features in deep shadow and warm highlights. Carlisle’s gaze flickered over your face, taking in every detail—every elegant line, every subtle contour he had come to find so enthralling.

“I already asked you before,” Carlisle continued, breath trembling. “but please come with me. Whatever bond is between us—whatever this is—I can’t bear the thought of leaving it behind.”

He reached out, gently brushing his fingertips along your jaw. The featherlight contact sent a tremor through both of you. For a moment, you closed your eyes as if steeling yourself against an onslaught of emotion.

“Carlisle,” you murmured, the single syllable loaded with longing and heartbreak. Then your eyes opened, scarlet irises locking onto his golden ones. “I cannot follow you. Aro trusts me. I have earned my place here through centuries of service.”

Carlisle’s lips parted, and his chest constricted painfully. “But what about your happiness? Don’t you see there’s more to life than this endless cycle of violence?”

Your jaw tightened. “This is my world. My choice. I’m not like you. I can’t pretend that moral codes and hopeful ideals will keep me safe.” You lowered your gaze. “You have to go. If you stay, you’ll be broken—one way or another.”

Something inside Carlisle cracked, the pain resonating through every fiber of his immortal body. “So that’s it?” he asked, voice faltering. “You choose them over—”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice trembling at the edges. “But you have to leave. Now.”

In a final desperate moment, Carlisle pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough to feel the slight chill of your skin. You stood perfectly still, your eyes sliding shut in silent torment. Then he stepped back, letting the cold air slip between you as though forming an invisible wall.

You remained where he left you, the slow hush of your unneeded breath the only movement. It took several minutes before you opened your eyes, composure already brittle. You touched the spot on your forehead where his lips had lingered, an ache you couldn’t name thudding in your chest. You had chosen your duty over love—and it stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Carlisle eventually found a new life far from Volterra, building a family and fostering the ideals he cherished. Yet in the quiet hours of predawn, when his coven was at rest and the world was still, he thought of you. He recalled the elegantly carved lines of your face, your unwavering stare, and the fleeting softness you revealed only to him.

No matter the distance, no matter how many centuries stretched between him and that fortress of stone, you lingered in Carlisle’s thoughts—an unhealed wound and a cherished secret. He imagined a time you might leave the Volturi’s shadows behind, stepping into the light he so desperately wanted to share with you. Until that day, he carried the memory of your touch and the haunting depth of your eyes. For in the darkest corners of his heart, he still believed you were worthy of love—and that one day, you might finally believe it too.

[callme-holly]

Can you please do “Darrel Curtis holding his new born daughter for the first time?” And he’s like totally in love and Y/N is like “Darrel are you crying?” And he, through sniffles is like “n-no” and it’s just tooth rotting sweet?? ♥️♥️

𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

limerence: (adj.) a state of pure, overwhelming emotional attachment and adoration, often accompanied by an almost dreamlike sense of devotion and joy

The hospital room was silent, save for the faint beeping from the various machines around the room and the soft, slight, uneven breaths from the tiny baby dozing on your chest.

Your body ached, fatigue taking hold of every part of you, your eyes heavy and your mind slightly foggy; however, you couldn't bring yourself to sleep and miss this moment. 

Darry was sitting at your side, transfixed by the little bundle. His face held a mixture of awe and fear, his eyes surprisingly glassy and filled with nothing but love. He'd been so tough through it all, your rock during the whole entire pregnancy, and now he was finally letting himself go, finally letting all of his emotions break through. 

"Do you want to hold her?" you ask quietly, almost afraid that if you talk too loud, you will break the comforting quiet that has enveloped the both of you. Darry doesn't respond straight away but nods slowly in response, holding out his arms so that you can carefully transfer the baby to him.

Immediately, his entire demeanour melts, his body sinking further into the chair as he holds his baby girl close to his chest, watching the way her little chest rises and falls. Her face is scrunched up in sleep, her hair fine and dark, and you feel your heart clench as she subconsciously turns to tuck her face into her dad's shirt.

"She's so perfect." His voice cracks as he speaks, and he swallows heavily in an attempt to bypass the lump forming in his throat. You glance up, catching sight of the tears shining in his eyes, and you can't help but smile.

"Darrel Curtis, are you crying?" Your voice holds not an ounce of judgement or disapproval, just pure, unadulterated affection. He shakes his head quickly, clearing his throat but refusing to meet your eyes.

"No... I'm not," he denies, but the way his voice wobbles says otherwise. Carefully, you reach out with a tentative hand, resting it lightly on his arm and squeezing reassuringly. That finally draws his attention to you, and he lets out a small puff of air, disbelief painted across his features.

"She's ours," he mumbles, rocking the tiny bundle as he speaks. "She's actually ours."

You nod, your own tears forming. "Yeah. She is, hon. She's ours." 

Darry smiles down at the baby, and it seems he can't bring himself to look away from her for more than a few seconds.  It's like a magnet for his attention, a sponge absorbing every ounce of love he has to give. "This... It doesn't feel real, you know? I never knew I could love someone so much." he

And the truth in his words, the pure honesty in which he speaks them, is what finally breaks through the dam and allows your tears to seep free. The baby stirs slightly, letting out a small whimper as she shifts, but she doesn't wake. Her eyes stay closed, and you watch with great wonder as her features twitch and twist before settling once more.

"We did good," you speak eventually. "Did really good." 

And Darry can only manage a small hum of agreement, grinning at you like he's the   man on earth, like he's just won the largest bet in history. But no amount of money in the world could ever compare to this feeling; nothing could ever live up to knowing he's got you by his side, and now, this tiny baby too. That's all he needed. Just you and your daughter. And that's all that mattered.

[amatoryscripts]

Never Let You Go

Pairing: Soft yan! Caleb x Fem! reader

Summary: You've had back-to-back missions lately, and Caleb's getting fed up and concerned. Not only is he worried, but he also hates that he hasn't been able to spend more time with you lately. When Jenna calls, saying she needs you on a mission with the team, he doesn't like the idea and intervenes with you going.

Warnings/tags. MDNI +18: Soft yandere Caleb, forcing you to stay home, poor baby cares too much, obsessive and possessive, unprotected sex, use of "baby girl" "princess" "baby" "pretty girl", MC giving him the silent treatment,makeup sex, biting, so good he tears up.

Lately, every time you turn around, a call from Jenna would come through about a mission that would take up hours of your day, sometimes even longer. How often you've been disappearing in the last two weeks was becoming concerning. Especially to Caleb, who has noticed this the most. How could he not? Every time you two had plans to be together, you had to cancel because of a last-minute mission due to wanderers lurking around. It didn't help his anxiety when you'd video call him after these missions; you'd be bruised up and getting bandaged by the medical techs during a majority of these calls. It pained him to see you in those conditions, as if his own heart could feel all the bruises and wounds you've accumulated on your body.

He always tells you that you can say no to a mission once in a while. Seeing you relax on his couch, reading one of your books while he made you food was a more enjoyable image than seeing you covered in blood and injured. Despite him asking you to do so many times, you refuse. Your response would always involve your worries of not being there for your team and helping to save those around. You were always putting other people first. Sometimes, he wishes you were as selfish as him.

Today was supposed to involve a relaxing date night at his apartment. The plan was to eat dinner and watch the movie they didn't get to last time cuddled up on the couch. In the kitchen, he was cooking a new dish you've been craving to try for a while. Oyster Rockefeller paired with lemon rice and sauteed Korean cucumber. When you mentioned your interest in it, he took note of the dish and garnered the ingredients for the day he knew you two would be together. This is the only thing he's been looking forward to all week.

You sauntered into the kitchen wearing one of his t-shirts and shorts. You've always liked wearing his clothes, but he especially likes it, thinking it makes you two feel closer. Plus, he thought it was cute when you'd hide half of your face and body in his shirts when sitting down. You rest your head against his back, taking in the smell of the seasonings invading the air. "Smells good," you hum, wrapping your arms around his torso. Caleb smiles at your embrace, wanting you to stay attached to him like this all the time.

"I should be done in the next hour or so," he informed you, sautéing the aromatics. He could tell how happy you were that he was making this dish for you. He took pleasure in doing things like this. He didn't mind it one bit, relishing in your happiness and the way your face lights up when he would take care of you. You're very independent, but take advantage of the way he wants to do everything for you. Sometimes, you wonder if you're taking advantage of poor Caleb, but he would always respond with how his only wish in life was to make yours as easy as possible.

"I was thinking we could also play Mario Ka-" You were cut off by the sound of a call trying to get your attention. Caleb already had a clue of who it could be. He puts down the knife he was using to split open the cucumbers and watched as you took the phone out of your pocket. It was Jenna, as always.

"Don't answer it," his low and dark tone caught you off guard for a split second. He knew Jenna was gearing up to swoop you away, once again, to go fight off wanderers they could take down by themselves without you. He didn't understand why they always needed to involve you in all these missions.

"Caleb, I have to," you remind him, letting go to answer the phone. As you turned around to pick up the call, you suddenly felt your body be immobilized. "Huh?" you grunt, trying to move but to no avail. Caleb walks in front of you, taking the phone from your hand. He was using his evol to keep you from moving and answering the phone. His arms swing over your shoulder, covering your mouth with his hand as he answers the phone.

"Hello?... Hi, Jenna... sorry she can't come to the phone," you muffled through his hands, trying to get him to stop. Your eyes demanding for him to let you go. "She's actually pretty sick... yeah, it must be a stomach bug. Poor thing can barely even speak," he smirks, looking down at you. "I'll tell her you hope she gets better. Bye now," he hangs up the phone and places it on the counter. He continues to keep you restrained but removed his hand so you can speak.

"Caleb! Why would you do that?!" You press as you watch him go to lock the front door and return to your side.

"I don't think you should go on that mission," concern and domianance coats his voice as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. You knew he hated you going on missions, but to basically keep you hostage irked you in so many ways.

"That's not really up to you," you struggle. Caleb's overprotectiveness was nothing new to you. He's always made it known that he would never let anything happen to you and would always protect you. You appreciate and even love that he feels this way, but it didn't mean he could stop you from making your own decisions. "Let me go." Your tone is firm as you stand your ground.

"Only if you promise to stay here and let your team handle everything," he attempts to bargain with you, hoping you'd give in easily. Your stubbornness was the real threat to him. He wouldn't put it past you to try and run out of the apartment as soon as he let you go, attempting to join your team in their fight against the wanderers terrorizing wherever Jenna wanted to send you off to.

"I can't leave my team behind," you retort, thinking about how your absence might affect them. They were strong, and you had faith in them, but that didn't mean you were okay with the idea of not being there when they might need you.

"They'll be fine," he assures you. "But I won't be if you come back hurt again. It took you days to recover last time, and now they're trying to send you back out there." His voice is tender, wrapped with a hint of frustration. The last thing he wanted to see was you covered in bandages with blood soaking through and bruises not caused by him decorating your body.

He wasn't wrong. You weren't fond of coming home all banged up, but you took this job to protect people, something you want to do. If that meant sometimes getting hurt, then so be it. "Caleb, I'm strong enough to protect myself. I don't need you treating me like glass. I'll always get a scratch here or there, but it comes with the territory, and I accepted that. You need to do the same." You didn't get this far by being fragile. Jenna put you on her team for a reason, and Caleb needed to start seeing you as someone strong and capable, not the little girl he would protect from bullies and danger 24/7.

He stayed silent, cupping your face and staring into your fiery eyes. He just wants to keep you like this. At his whim and safe from the cruelties of outside. Was that so wrong? Wanting to keep you locked away being only with him?

"You can't keep me from doing my job," she sighs, knowing he was just scared of losing you again. They both shared that fear, so she understood him well.

"I can try," his assertion not wavering, standing strong in his goal to keep you here. "You're not leaving. You're going to eat dinner, and we're going to watch the movie like we planned, okay?" All he could think about was how this interruption was ruining this time meant for you two to be alone.

You were silent, your frustration consuming you as you stared at him with narrow eyes. You knew trying to run off would be futile. He looks the most determined you’ve ever seen him. Jenna already thinks you're sick, so what's the point? After another few seconds of staring each other down, you give in. "Fine," reluctance infuses your words, knowing he wouldn't back down. He drops his evol, and you move your shoulders around, relaxing your body.

At the dinner table, you weren't talkative like usual. Your attention was on the food, not looking up at Caleb once. You were too upset to properly enjoy the meal. Normally, you'd be showering him with compliments as you stuffed your face from happiness. At this moment, you were picking at the food, taking small bites as you worried about your team, wondering how the mission was going.

Caleb stabbed his plate, picking up a piece of the oyster on his fork, watching you ignore him. "I'm doing this to keep you safe," he suddenly says. You didn't look up, pushing a slice of cucumber in your mouth. He could even make cucumber taste amazing. You keep the praise to yourself, listening to him attempt to make you understand why he did what he did. "It drives me crazy when you're risking your life for others. Doing it back to back too often is insane." He grips his fork, which begins to bend slightly from his strength. "You can really hurt yourself if you keep pushing your body like this. I wouldn't forgive myself for letting you go out there to get hurt."

Still, you refused to acknowledge him, pushing the rest of your food around. As the silence continued, the sound of your phone receiving a message echoed. You checked the notification and saw it was from Tara, hoping you got well, while also informing you that the mission was a success and everyone was fine. That message made you smile for the first time since you sat down.

"I'm assuming you received good news and everyone's limbs are intact. Happy now?" You frown at his comment. You hope he didn't think you would forgive him easily because everyone was fine.

"Yeah, it's good to know I can stop feeling guilty for worrying about my teammates when I should've been there for them!" You hiss, standing up abruptly and marching into the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Caleb stays at the dinner table, not touching his food anymore from a loss of appetite. He didn't like it when you got like this. It made his heart crumble when you'd give him the cold shoulder and shut him out. All he wants is to be near you and make you happy. Now you were pissed and shutting him out. His worst fear, right below losing you forever. You were scary in this state, going from being sweet and loving to an eruption of anger.

You stayed in the room, covering yourself with the shirt you wore. holding your phone inches from your face as you caught up with your teammates. You heard Caleb leave the apartment a few minutes after you got up from the table. Curiosity about where he ran off to did creep around your mind, but you were still annoyed at his behavior. When you checked in with the last member, you felt better than earlier, knowing everyone got out without being heavily injured. Even if Tara confirmed this with you earlier, it still didn't feel right not checking in with them.

A knock at the bedroom door interrupts your scrolling through your Moment feed. You close the screen as you watch the door slowly open, a small, plushed brown bear poking it's head through the crack.

"Caleb wanted to say he was sorry and that he misses you. Can he come in?" a high-pitched voice, you assume coming from Caleb, chirps. You couldn't help the small smirk that danced on your lips. You stifle it as you respond. "You can come in".

Caleb's large body pushes through the door, holding the bear as he approaches your side of the bed with the peace offering. "I went to the arcade and saw this little guy," he explains as he holds the bear out for you. You take the gift, examining its little face and soft fur. "Bears are cute and cuddly, but we know they're ferocious when provoked."

"You calling me a bear?" your brows raise in amusement at his comment.

"Absolutely," his response makes you chuckle, almost forgetting why you were mad at him in the first place. You shove your face in the back of the plushies head as you took in how it smelt like Caleb already. He watches you indulge in the bear, looking more peaceful than before.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, sitting beside you. His hand travels to your blanket-covered legs, giving them a small squeeze. "I shouldn't have lied to Jenna and stopped you from going on the mission". You raise your head, listening to what he had to say. " I...I was just scared. I didn't want to see you get hurt again. "I was selfish, not wanting you to disappear for hours while I would be here alone without you while you missed dinner and the movie." His voice was infused with an apologetic tone laced in sadness. You could tell he was just worried and wanted to do whatever he could to keep you protected.

You run your hand over his. "I want you to have more faith in me and my abilities to protect myself". His heart jumps at your touch and the softness in your voice. "I know me being a hunter is worrisome for you, but you have to believe that I'll be okay."

"I do have faith in you. I just can't stop thinking about what would happen if something goes wrong. If a wanderer hurt you or someone else did, I'd go crazy." His grip becomes tighter at the thought. You squeeze his hand to show him that you were there with him and not off getting hurt, trying to bring him back to the present.

"I can't promise I'll never get hurt, and I'll always be in the best condition, but no matter what, I'll always come back to you. That I can promise." He wants to say; How do you know you'll always come back? , but he didn't want to dwell on that thought when you were touching and looking at him with so much promise and affection in your eyes. He didn't want his worries to ruin this moment. Instead, he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. It started off soft and innocent but transformed deeper, filled with yearning.

"You promise?" he questioned, breaking the kiss to look at you as he cupped your face, not wanting to ever let go of it.

"I promise I'll always come back to your side," you whisper, leaning back in to continue the kiss.

Heavy breathing and whimpers flooded the silent room. Your face contorted in pleasure as Caleb's fingers worked their way inside of you, pumping at a rhythmic but swift pace, watching how you took his fingers perfectly, coating them in your wet heat. His lips found that delicate spot on your neck as he nibbled and sucked on it, drawing out those sweet moans he loved hearing from your lips. "You sound so cute like this, baby," he comments in a dark, sensual tone. "I wanna hear more." His thumb joins in on the fun, circling over your throbbing, sensitive pearl, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your body jolts and twitches as you cry out for him.

"Caleb! fuck...feels so good," you mewl into his hair, gripping his shoulder tightly, nails digging into his skin leaving behind crescent marks. His fingers could feel your walls tightened around them, signaling how close you were.

"That's it. Cum all over my fingers, pretty. Be a good girl for me, okay? Let me take care of you". He moans into your neck, feeling how hard he was getting from the sounds you were making and the tightness of your cunt sucking him in. His movements mixed with his words, encouraged your peak to shoot through your body, cumming all over his fingers. He slows down, drawing out your orgasm before bringing his fingers to his mouth, tasting you on his fingers.

"You taste so sweet," he coos, cleaning his fingers off as if he was desperate to get every last bit into his mouth. "Let me taste you some more," he whispers darkly before dropping his head between your legs. You let out a soft gasp as he connects his mouth to your soaking pussy, wasting no time to lap up your juices and shove the same fingers he just licked clean, right back inside. The combination pushes you further into your pleasure. He's relentless in his goal to drive you crazy. He sucks on your sensitive nub, humming in delight as you lose your words, spilling out whimpers and cries from how he was ruining you. Your fingers found his head and began grasping at his dark locks, pulling at them from the stimulation engulfing your body. He groans in satisfaction, loving when you got handsy like this. "Harder," he commands in a low groan. It didn't take much for you to tug on his hair even more. He made sure of it when he spread your legs wider, giving him the change to fuck his fingers in deeper.

"Caleb!" you call out, your voice soft and trembling. "I'm...ah~', your squealing elicits a wicked chuckle from his throat. "No, no. I can't, I can't." Your face twists as you lose confidence in your ability to cum again for him.

"Yes, you can," he growls, picking up his pace as he continues sucking your clit as your hips buck into his mouth. His fingers curl up into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. "You can do it. I wanna taste you cum all over my mouth" he sucks harder on her clit causing a high pitched whine to spill from her lips "Just one more time. Please, baby? I'll make you feel so good, I promise" he pleads for you to let yourself cum on his mouth. You whimper and buck your hips as your release finds you once again, dripping all over his lips as he hums in satisfaction. "Fuck... your such a good girl for me". He finishes lapping up your juices as if he was licking a plate clean.

Your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, watching him push one leg back to your chest. He wasn't done yet; he couldn't be satisfied until he was buried deep inside of you. He lines his throbbing cock between your legs, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds. "You want more of me, pretty girl?" he purrs, trying to hold back from slamming into you the way he wants.

You look at him with pleading eyes, nodding feverishly as you bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, wanting the same thing that was clouding his mind. He drops his head down to her ear, gripping her hip tightly as he nibbles and licks her lobe. A shiver infiltrates her body, going down her spine, causing her to push herself up into him.

"Come on, use your words, princess," he insists, pushing his teasing cock between her folds just enough to make her groan in impatience.

" Please, Caleb. I need you," she whines. He drops down to you tits, playing with one while he sucked the nipple of the other, nibbling just enough to make your legs kick and wrap around him from the sensation.

" What do you need, hm?" he smirks, wanting to hear you beg some more. "You need my cock fucking this cute little pussy? you want me to ruin you, baby?" his voice was dark and tainted with lust as he twisted your nipple. " Cause I'll fucking ruin you if you want."

"Yes," you breathe, followed by a small whine. "I need you to fuck me so badly." her plea doesn't become lost on him. He pushes himself into her, groaning from feeling how tight she was around his tip.

"Oh fuck!" he grunts, pushing further into you, watching the way your mouth part and eyes flutter. Once he saw you'd taken most of him, he pulls back slowly and shoves himself back in, evoking a loud cry from you that he soon began to devour, moaning into your mouth as his hips thrust into you. his movements were hungry, wanting his cock to be the only thing you could feel. He breaks the kiss, looking down at you watching how your tits bounced against your chest, gripping your hips tightly pushing them back onto him. "You look so pretty like this, baby. Do you like how I feel?"

You could barely speak, feeling too consumed by him stretching you out. You bit your lips, stifling your cries as your body succumbed to the warm heat spreading through you.

"Answer me, princess," he thrusts into her harder, making her gasp and whine as she grips the side of the bed.

" Yes!" she wails. " Love it so much...please... need more," you pant, catching his purple eyes that have darkened from his craving. He drops into the crook of your neck, lifting your hips up to give him more leverage. He slams into you erratically, the sound of your skin meeting repeatedly dancing in the air, mixing with moans and grunts trickling from both of your lips as the headboard crashes into the wall behind you.

"Wanna stay like this forever" he groans, using his hand to rub circles around your clit, adding more intensity to your body. "Fuck! Wanna always be buried in this tight pussy. Wanna feel you like this all the time." he expresses his desires, occasionally letting out a small whimper from how you were clenching around him. "Never wanna leave you. Never." His thrusts turn sharper as each word escapes him. You feel a drop of water meeting your collarbone, sparking confusion. You look down at him, lifting his head to meet your face. Tears were prickling the corner of his eyes as he looked at you with emotions and yearning flooding his gaze. "Please don't leave me," he grovels, continuing his sloppy movements inside of you.

"I won't," you mutter, kissing his forehead softly. You couldn't help but think of how cute he looked like this. So desperate for her that it brought him to tears.

"Say it," he begs, feeling himself getting closer. "Say you'll never leave me. Say you'll always be here. I need to hear you say it...please." He bites her shoulder, scrunching up his face as his balls tighten, ready to give you all of him. You mewl from his bite, a mixture of pain and pleasure taking over you.

" I'll never leave you, I promise! I promise!" your cries swamp his mind as he finds himself shooting his hot cum deep inside of you, letting your voice permeate his mind. His release is thrust deeper inside as his hips slow down, refusing to pull out. He looks down at himself inside of you movingly slowly, taking in the white ring around the base of his cock, as streaks of his cum drips down your inner thighs.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his attention to your lips. Your kiss is soft and saturated with affection. You could tell he's been worried about this for so long. The thought of you leaving one day, always floating and haunting him in the back of his mind.

"I'm gonna hold you to that promise," he murmurs, catching his breath as he crashes on top of you, ensuring he didn't suffocate his precious girl. With his eyes closed, his fingers drew patterns on your warm stomach.

"And I'll make sure to always keep it." You kiss the top of his head, pulling him in closer as you pet his soft head, showing that you would never let go.

[dumb-ster-fire]

Azriel x fem!Reader - Between Shadow and Sunlight - Part 3

Azriel x fem!reader, Helion x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW , Minors DNI

Summary: Y/N has always danced around the tension with Azriel-but how much longer can he deny it? When Helion pulls her into his arms at a Day Court ball, Azriel tells himself it doesn't matter. But as he watches her laugh, watches Helion's hands linger, jealousy coils tight. Shadows stir, and for the first time, Y/N wonders if Azriel will finally stop running from what's always been there between them.

Part 1 , Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ballroom hums with music and laughter, the air thick with the scent of wine and the faint, sweet tang of magic. Y/N stands near the edge of the dance floor, a glass of wine in hand, her gaze flicking lazily across the room. She’s acutely aware of Azriel’s presence, even though he’s tucked into the shadows, his hazel eyes tracking her every move. She smirks to herself, swirling the wine in her glass.

Helion approaches, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “Starlight,” he purrs, his voice smooth as silk. “You’ve been neglecting me.”

Y/N turns to him, her lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Neglecting you? I thought you’d be busy basking in your own radiance.”

Helion chuckles, the sound rich and warm. “Ah, but even the sun needs a little moonlight to shine brighter.” He offers her his hand. “Care to dance?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder, her eyes briefly meeting Azriel’s. She holds his gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then turns back to Helion with a playful tilt of her head. “Why not?”

As they step onto the dance floor, Y/N lets herself lean into Helion’s touch, her movements fluid and deliberate. She’s not just dancing with him—she’s putting on a show. Her laughter rings out, bright and genuine, as Helion spins her, his hands lingering just a fraction longer than propriety allows. She catches the way Azriel’s shadows coil tighter around him, the way his jaw tenses ever so slightly.

“You’re enjoying this,” Helion murmurs, his breath warm against her ear as he pulls her close.

Y/N smirks, her voice low and teasing. “And you’re not?”

Helion’s golden eyes spark with amusement. “Oh, I’m enjoying it immensely. But I can’t help but wonder… who exactly are you trying to provoke?”

Y/N’s gaze flicks toward Azriel again, her smirk deepening. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Helion laughs, the sound rich and full. “You’re a dangerous one, starlight. I like it.”

As the music shifts into something slower, more intimate, Helion’s hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Y/N lets him, her body aligning with his as they move together. She’s hyper-aware of Azriel’s gaze burning into her, but she doesn’t look his way. Not yet. Instead, she tilts her head back, her lips brushing dangerously close to Helion’s ear.

“You’re not afraid of a little competition, are you?” she murmurs, her voice a velvet whisper.

Helion’s grip tightens ever so slightly. “Competition? My dear, I thrive on it.”

Y/N laughs softly, the sound like a challenge. “Good.”

From the shadows, Azriel watches, his expression unreadable but his shadows betraying him. They writhe and twist, curling around him like restless serpents. He doesn’t move, doesn’t intervene, but the tension in his posture is unmistakable.

Cassian, ever the instigator, sidles up to him with a grin. “You’re just going to stand here and let her dance with him all night?”

Azriel doesn’t take his eyes off Y/N. “She can dance with whoever she wants.”

Cassian snorts. “Sure. And I’m the High Lord of Dawn.”

Azriel ignores him, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she leans in to whisper something to Helion, her lips brushing his ear. The shadows around Azriel darken, and Cassian chuckles, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re so screwed, brother.”

On the dance floor, Y/N feels the weight of Azriel’s gaze like a physical touch. She knows she’s playing with fire, but she can’t help herself. There’s something intoxicating about the way he watches her, the way his control frays ever so slightly with every move she makes.

Helion spins her again, his hand sliding up her arm in a way that’s just shy of possessive. “You’re quite the enigma, you know,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I can’t decide if I want to unravel you or simply admire you from afar.”

Y/N tilts her head, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “Why not both?”

Helion’s laugh is warm, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that tells her he’s not entirely immune to her games. “Careful, starlight. You might find yourself in over your head.”

Y/N’s gaze flicks toward Azriel again, her smirk deepening. “I can handle myself.”

As the music slows to a stop, Helion dips her low, his face inches from hers. For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. Then he pulls her back up, his hand lingering at her waist. “Until next time,” he murmurs, his voice rich with promise.

Y/N steps back, her smile playful. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As Helion walks away, Y/N turns to find Azriel standing just a few feet away, his shadows curling around him like a living thing. She meets his gaze, her expression all innocence. “Enjoy the show?”

Azriel’s voice is low, smooth, but there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down her spine. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Y/N steps closer, her eyes gleaming with challenge. “And if I am?”

Azriel’s gaze drops to her lips, then back to her eyes. “You might not like the consequences.”

Y/N tilts her head, her smile slow and deliberate. “Or maybe I’ll love them.”

The tension between them crackles like a live wire, and for a moment, neither of them moves. Then Azriel steps closer, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Careful, Y/N. I don’t play games.”

Y/N’s lips curve into a smirk. “Good. Neither do I.”

And with that, she turns on her heel, leaving Azriel standing there, his shadows coiled tightly around him, his gaze burning into her back.

From across the room, Cassian lets out a low whistle. “Well, that was… something.”

Mor grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Y/N, for her part, feels a thrill of satisfaction as she sips her wine. She’s not done playing yet—not by a long shot. And if Azriel thinks he can outmaneuver her, he’s in for a very rude awakening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The refreshment table is a lavish spread of decadent treats—glistening fruits, delicate pastries, and goblets of wine that shimmer under the golden light of the ballroom. Y/N stands there, her back to the room, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the chandeliers. She picks up a cherry, its deep red skin glistening, and rolls it between her fingers with deliberate slowness.

Azriel watches her from across the room, his shadows curling restlessly around him. He’s been trying to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of control, but she’s making it impossible. Every move she makes, every glance she throws his way, is a challenge—one he’s finding harder and harder to resist.

Y/N lifts the cherry to her lips, her gaze flicking to Azriel’s. She holds his stare as she takes a slow, deliberate bite, the juice staining her lips a deep crimson. She licks the sweetness away, her tongue tracing the curve of her bottom lip, and Azriel’s jaw tightens.

Cassian, standing beside him, lets out a low whistle. “She’s really trying to kill you, isn’t she?”

Azriel doesn’t respond. His eyes are locked on Y/N as she picks up another cherry, her movements languid and unhurried. She pops it into her mouth, her lips closing around it with a soft, almost obscene sound. Azriel’s shadows writhe, and Cassian chuckles.

“You’re just going to stand there and let her torment you?” Cassian asks, his tone equal parts amused and incredulous.

Azriel’s voice is low, rough. “She’s enjoying herself.”

“And you’re not?” Cassian counters, raising a brow.

Azriel doesn’t answer. He’s too focused on Y/N, on the way she’s toying with him, on the way she’s making him feel things he’s spent centuries burying.

Y/N, for her part, is reveling in the effect she’s having on him. She picks up a third cherry, holding it between her fingers as she turns to face him fully. Her eyes gleam with mischief as she steps away from the table, her movements slow and deliberate. She stops a few feet away from him, her gaze never leaving his.

“Care for a cherry, shadowsinger?” she asks, her voice low and sultry.

Azriel’s eyes darken, his shadows curling tighter around him. “I’m not hungry.”

Y/N smirks, stepping closer. “Are you sure? They’re… delicious.” She holds the cherry up, her fingers brushing against her lips as she does so. Azriel’s gaze drops to her mouth, and she sees the way his throat works as he swallows.

Cassian, sensing the tension, takes a step back. “I’m just… going to go find Mor. You two have fun.”

Y/N doesn’t even glance at him as he leaves. Her focus is entirely on Azriel, on the way his body tenses as she steps even closer, until there’s barely a breath of space between them.

“You’re playing with fire,” Azriel murmurs, his voice rough.

Y/N tilts her head, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “Maybe I like the heat.”

She lifts the cherry to his lips, her fingers brushing against them as she does so. Azriel’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, he opens his mouth, letting her place the cherry on his tongue. His lips close around her fingers, and Y/N feels a jolt of heat shoot through her at the contact.

She pulls her hand back slowly, her gaze locked with his. “Well?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you like it?”

Azriel’s eyes burn into hers as he chews slowly, deliberately. “It’s… sweet.”

Y/N’s smirk deepens. “Not too sweet, I hope.”

Azriel steps closer, his shadows wrapping around them like a cocoon. “You’re pushing your luck, Y/N.”

Y/N tilts her head back, her lips brushing against his as she speaks. “Or maybe I’m just getting started.”

Azriel’s hand comes up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Y/N’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. “And if I am?”

Azriel’s gaze drops to her lips, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Then you’d better be prepared for the consequences.”

Y/N’s heart races, but she holds his gaze, her voice steady. “I’m not afraid of you, Azriel.”

Azriel’s lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. “You should be.”

And then he kisses her.

It’s not gentle, not tentative. It’s fierce and demanding, a claiming that leaves no room for doubt. Y/N’s hands come up to grip his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his jacket as she kisses him back with equal fervor. The world around them fades away, leaving only the heat of their bodies, the taste of cherries and wine on their lips, the electric charge of desire that crackles between them.

When they finally pull apart, both of them are breathing heavily. Azriel’s eyes are dark with need, his shadows coiled tightly around them. Y/N’s lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, but her smirk is as wicked as ever.

“Well,” she murmurs, her voice husky. “That was… unexpected.”

Azriel’s thumb brushes over her bottom lip again, his gaze intense. “You’ve been pushing me all night, Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t push back?”

Y/N’s smile is slow, deliberate. “I was hoping you would.”

Azriel’s lips curve into a smirk of his own. “Careful what you wish for.”

Y/N’s eyes gleam with challenge. “Oh, I’m not afraid of you, Azriel. In fact… I think I’m just getting started.”

Azriel’s gaze darkens, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Then let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

And with that, he pulls her back into him, his lips claiming hers once more as the shadows wrap around them, shielding them from the prying eyes of the ballroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kiss is savage, a clash of teeth and tongues that leaves them both breathless. Y/N’s hands claw at Azriel’s shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his jacket as his shadows envelop them, shielding them from the world. The music of the ballroom fades into a distant hum, the chatter of guests dissolving into nothingness. All that exists is the heat of their bodies, the taste of each other, the electric pull that has been building all night.

Azriel breaks the kiss just long enough to growl against her lips, his voice rough with need. “You’ve been driving me fucking insane all night.”

Y/N smirks, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “Good. That was the point.”

Azriel’s eyes darken, his hands tightening on her waist. “You’re going to regret teasing me.”

Y/N arches a brow, her lips brushing his as she speaks. “Prove it.”

That’s all the invitation Azriel needs. In one fluid motion, he steps them into the shadows, the world dissolving into darkness. Y/N feels the cool rush of shadow-walking, the sensation both disorienting and exhilarating. When the shadows part, they’re in a secluded alcove, far from the ballroom—a private balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens of the Day Court. The air is cool, but the heat between them burns hotter than ever.

Azriel pins her against the stone railing, his body pressing into hers, his shadows curling around them like a living thing. Y/N’s back arches, her breath catching as his lips trail down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that sends shivers down her spine.

“You’re fucking insufferable,” he murmurs against her throat, his hands sliding down to grip her hips.

Y/N laughs breathlessly, her fingers tightening in his hair. “And yet, here you are.”

Azriel lifts his head, his golden-brown eyes blazing with intensity. “Here I am.”

He kisses her again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that makes her knees weak. Y/N’s hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his jacket. She tugs at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin against hers, and Azriel obliges, shrugging it off with a quick, impatient motion.

Y/N’s dress is next. Azriel’s hands slide up her sides, his fingers deftly finding the ties at her back. He undoes them with practiced ease, the silvery fabric slipping from her shoulders to pool at her feet. The cool night air brushes her skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of Azriel’s gaze as he takes her in.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent.

Y/N smirks, though her breath hitches as his hands slide up her bare arms. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. “Good thing I don’t need flattery.”

He kisses her again, his hands roaming over her body with a possessiveness that makes her head spin. Y/N’s fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. When she finally gets it open, she slides her hands over his chest, her nails lightly scraping his skin. Azriel growls low in his throat, the sound sending a thrill through her.

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone.

Y/N tilts her head back, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Then make it worth it.”

Azriel’s hands slide down to her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she’s seated on the stone railing. Y/N wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his lips find hers again. The cool stone against her back is a sharp contrast to the heat of his body, the sensation only heightening her arousal.

Azriel’s hands roam over her body, his touch firm and deliberate, leaving no inch of her untouched. Y/N’s nails dig into his shoulders as his lips trail down her chest, his tongue flicking over her nipple in a way that makes her gasp. She arches into him, her hands tangling in his hair as he continues his exploration, his touch both worshipful and demanding.

“Azriel,” she breathes, her voice trembling with need.

He lifts his head, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want.”

Y/N’s lips curve into a wicked smile. “I want you to fuck me. Now.”

Azriel doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses her again, his hands sliding down to grip her hips as he positions himself at her entrance. Y/N’s breath hitches as he pushes into her, the sensation overwhelming in the best possible way. She wraps her legs tighter around him, pulling him closer as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder.

The world narrows to the two of them, to the heat of their bodies, the sound of their mingled breaths, the feel of his skin against hers. Y/N’s nails dig into his back as she arches into him, her moans muffled by his lips on hers. Azriel’s hands grip her hips, his movements growing more urgent as he drives them both closer to the edge.

“Y/N,” he murmurs against her lips, his voice rough with need. “Look at me.”

Y/N opens her eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his golden-brown eyes takes her breath away, the raw emotion there making her heart race even faster. She reaches up to cup his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers.

Azriel’s breath hitches, his thrusts growing more erratic as he nears his release. Y/N’s own climax builds, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. Azriel follows her over the edge, his body shuddering as he spills himself inside her.

For a moment, they stay like that, their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling as they come down from the high. Azriel rests his forehead against hers, his hands still gripping her hips as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs again, his voice soft this time.

Y/N smiles, her fingers trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are.”

Azriel chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Here I am.”

They stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms as the cool night air brushes their skin. The world outside the balcony feels far away, unimportant. All that matters is the two of them, the connection they’ve finally given in to, the fire that’s been burning between them all night—and for far longer than that.

Finally, Azriel lifts his head, his gaze soft as he looks at her. “We should probably get back before they send a search party.”

Y/N smirks, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Let them wait.”

Azriel laughs, the sound rich and full. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N’s smile is slow, deliberate. “And yet, here you are.”

Azriel kisses her again, slow and deep, before helping her down from the railing. They dress quickly, the silence between them comfortable, intimate. As they step back into the shadows, Y/N feels a thrill of anticipation. This isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning.

And she can’t wait to see where it leads.

[katescorner]

more on fake dating osamu - drabble linked here

getting into a fake relationship with miya osamu, wing spiker and resident hearthrob, was not on your agenda for today. so it was extremely unexpected when he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a broom closet with him when you were on your way back to class from the bathroom. it was dark and a little humid, and the only sounds you could hear were from his heavy breathing and the small surprised gasp you gave.

when you were about to speak up, he put a finger to his lips, quieting your words before they could escape just as a herd of footsteps passed in the hallway. he sighed in relief, and though you couldn't see much, you watched his shoulders sag as the tension melted off of him.

"is this a bad time to tell you i'm a fan?" you don't mean it, but watching his face morph into shock is enough to elicit a soft laugh from you. "i'm kidding."

"that's not funny," he says despite the smile he breaks into. "i was . . ." he pauses, like he doesn't exactly what to say, so you help him out.

"running from mumus?"

a look between embarrassment and curiosity crossed his face. "is that what they call themselves?"

"mumus, katsus, taroteas, roses, shinderellas," you list out. "i could go on. honestly, they're pretty creative."

osamu cocks his head. "are these—fan names?" when you nodded, he seemed amused. "and you just happen to know all of them?"

"are you asking me if i like one of your teammates?"

"as long as it's not my piss-head brother."

you laugh at that and it comes out louder than you mean it to, a stark reminder that you two are still very much in a dark broom closet together not so far apart.

"so . . . are we going to stay in here forever?" you ask, eyes wandering as you feel yourself flush. "because i'm all for rendezvous in tight spaces, but i'm also really missing fresh air right now."

osamu tries not to be obvious about his disappointment in the conversation ending so soon. "yeah, me too."

you leave first, and the rush of air that enters the closet feels almost dizzying to osamu. you're dazzling under the light, and he doesn't want to let you go just yet because what if after all of this you two go back to not knowing each other. so he thinks—quickly, as if he were in the middle of a match right now—and the idea hits him all at once.

"do you want to go on a date with me?"

the question catches you off-guard and you're well aware of the weight of his words.

"what?"

osamu tumbles out of the closet, trying not to trip on his feet as he walks to you. "i hate that i have fans. the attention, it freaks me out. so i was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me . . . to get them off my back—the mumus i mean."

and you, blinking, decide what's the worst that could happen? "okay."

tagged @miruac @feyrfly

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Morning or Night Sex

Dumbass post. I was brainrotting about if the Hazbin characters would prefer morning or night sex and why. So here we got a lineup of Angel Dust, Lucifer, Vox, Husk, and Adam and what their preferences are.

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; no use of y/n; Adam's section is lowkey a shitpost; also I got rambley in Husk's section sorry about that (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Angel Dust - Morning Sex ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

Might be surprising at first, but it makes sense the more you think about it. Sex between Angel and his partner doesn't happen too terribly often, in fact, its more of a blue moon thing.

I mean, Angel's job is nothing but sex. So the last thing he wants to do is come home to more of it. Its like asking a professional chef to also cook all your family's meals. Its not that he doesn't like it, its just... alot.

Angel loves you because you see him as more then a sex object. You saw past his lewd jokes and constant flirting. When you two spend time together, despite what others may assume you two are doing, its just that, time together. Watching movies, doing eachother's nails, doomscrolling... Your Angel's safe person.

Yeah you two are very touchy feely with eachother normally but it never escalates too far. Angel Dust likes to just run up to you, pull you in his arms and just smooch you. You two will also often get into little playfights (especially ticklefights) which Angel always wins because he has extra arms the cheater.

So on the rare occasion things actually do get steamy between you two, it always happens in the gentle light of the morning. You always wake up, protectively encircled in Angel's arms. And it always happens with laughter.

The two of you making jokes at your sleep disheveled appearance, kissing smeared makeup that you forgot to cleanup the night before. Your legs wrapping tighter around eachother and your words turning teasing as you feel the effect the close proximity is having on the other.

You'll gently hold Angel's face while he nuzzle's into yours. Your hips grinding together lethargically, but with purpose. Your both already messy from sleep, so what's a little more added to it?

Not only is it easier to clean, which is always a plus in Angel's book, but Angel seems much more... calm. Serene, even. He is much calmer and happier throughout the day, less likely to jump at people or make rash decisions. Guess gentle sex is just the perfect way to wake up.

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Lucifer - Night Sex ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

Not even a hard choice for him. I imagine Lucifer kind of being old timey in this regard. He thinks of the mornings less as 'sexy time' and more as 'bonding time'. Its a time dedicated specifically for you two to kiss, cuddle, and most importantly, snuggle. Believe me, short king wants all the snuggles.

Lucifer doesn't really start getting horny until at least after breakfast; usually not even until noon-ish. Then he turns into a sex gremlin. Breakfast especially is kind of like a weirdly sacred, saccharine time between you two.

One of Lucifer's many love languages is cooking, so he takes a special pride in making you a wonderful breakfast. He will sit right next to you at the table, his legs flush against yours, and ask you all about your plans for the day. No; it doesn't matter to him that your mouth is full. He wants to hear all about it!

Once you two part from breakfast, its like a switch gets flipped. Lucifer suddenly changes from the wholesome; "Your so beautiful, Duckie! *kisses and nuzzles you*" to the much more dangerous, "Your so beautiful, Duckie~ *goes down on his knees in between your legs*"

Its like the miniscule amount of time he has spent apart from you has left him absolutely starved of your touch and taste. You've only been apart for an hour or two... Yet Lucifer is acting like a man who just came back from war; like he has been deprived of your touch for an ungodly amount of time and now he has to make up for it.

The less time you spend with him throughout the day, the more wild he gets at night. Lucifer misses you so bad. It often ends up culminating in you two having a sex marathon to "make up" for lost time together.

On the flip side, if you two spend the entire day together, Lucifer is a complete sweetheart instead of a horndog when night comes. Instead of pulling you to the bed with wanton moans, frantic kisses, and wandering hands; Lucifer brings you in with adoring eyes, a teasing grin, and cheerful giggles. He has had such a wonderful day with you and is ready to top it all off with the perfect snuggle session.

Look. Lucifer just... really doesn't like being alone okay? He doesn't want to spend a single moment away from you. Every second away from you is a second wasted to him.

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Vox - Morning Sex ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

If he had to choose, Vox would pick morning sex. Its the time he feels he gets to actually enjoy you. He isnt exhausted (yet) and he isnt all stressed out from... everything at work. So its inherently so much better.

True, sex in the evenings is also great when it happens. But Vox always feels guilty about it in the pit of his stomach. He is so much rougher and more aggressive in the evenings because of how frustrated his work makes him.

Its not inaccurate to say that in the mornings, Vox makes love; while at night, he fucks. The mornings let him admire you and become so much more then just sex. But as the hours wear on him, sex changes to an outlet, a needed release.

Of course, as the hard switch he is, this is assuming Vox is even in the mood for a good fuck. Sometimes when he comes home, all he wants is to lay back and let someone else do the work for once. Especially after a long day of putting out fires from incompetent employees or cleaning up messes left by the other two Vees.

In the mornings, none of this is an issue. There is no playing roulette with Vox's mood. There is no underlying frustration or stress to it. Its just... nice. Something Vox isnt used to. Something he doesn't get much of in his life. Normally things always come with a caveat or strings attached.

You both wake up in eachother's arms and greet the other with kisses. Kisses that either grow deep and needy; or teasing and playful. Sometimes you both claw at one another in a desperate bid to get as close as two bodies physically can. Other times you both laugh and look into eachother's eyes lovingly as your hips gently move in sync.

Its never one of you over the other or one of you having to take charge. You both move together. Both of you wanting, needing this as much as the other.

Vox never thought he would get to experience euphoria like this. To love someone who loves him back like this. But he wouldn't trade it for anything now that he has it. He would rather burn the world down then let you go.

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Husk - Night Sex ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

Hate to say it, but sex only really happens later on because of how hungover Husk is in the mornings. He always feels super sick right after he wakes up. Both from the hangover and the alcohol withdrawals soooo... yeah. Morning sex isnt happening.

Husk hates mornings in general anyways. Anything louder then a pindrop is deafening, everyone (Charlie and Niffty) wont stop running around, and Husk really just needs to get some booze in his system before he actually dies a second time. Its best not to engage with him until later on.

Even disregarding the whole hangover aspect; Husk tends to get more... handsy as the day wears on. As more alcohol accumulates in his system. It is an inhibition suppressant after all.

God help you if your blushy or easily flustered. Because Husk has a playful side and is one hell of a tease.

If your observant, you'll start noticing this coming out in the late afternoon. Husk now seems to lean in slightly when your telling him a story; his hands gently graze yours when he hands you a drink; and his voice seems to drop an octave. Especially when he laughs.

It gets so much worse in the evenings. The leaning in is much more obvious; Husk even rests his elbows on the counter like you have the most interesting thing to say. Husk also now touches you at every opportunity he gets, purposely tracing a claw over your shoulder or rubbing his body against you as he slides past.

Husk won't push it too far or be too obvious in front of people. But he always has a knowing smile on his face when you blush. His tail playfully flicks back and forth when you give a particularly adorable reaction.

Unfortunately, Husk is just that; a goddamn tease. He might whisper something nasty into your ear if he is drunk enough and the mood is right. But he isnt going to actually initiate anything. Husk wants to make sure your 100% into it, so its up to you to break that threshold.

When you do, he is all green flags. You two might have to sneak away from his post thanks to Alastor's watchful eye or straight up fuck behind the counter while no one is looking; but the old cat is absolutely going to enjoy every second he can steal away with you.

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Adam - Yes ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

Honestly couldn't give less of a fuck. Literally the first man, he was MADE to fuck. Do you really think he cares? Cause he don't.

Adam is down to fuck all day, every day, 24/7, 365 days a year. It doesn't matter time or place. His baby needs to be dicked down?That takes priority over everything; nothing else matters at that moment. He will find a place to dick you down. No shame.

One strangely good thing about Adam is that he is actually aware his libido is superhuman and not normal. He may use bad pickup lines, make dirty jokes, or straight up ask 'hey, wanna fuck?' But once you say no, he leaves you alone. He will never actually push it.

So yeah, Adam, the first man, oddly respects consent?? The guy has more respect for people then Valentino.

On that note; since Adam is highkey always horny, he has a weird thing where he can't... comprehend people who don't keep it in their pants. Because to Adam; he is always suppressing urges. Always keeping his lust in check.

So when he finds out someone couldn't, or didn't, do that? He is just pissed. (One of the many big reasons he despises Lucifer) Adam's mindset is literally 'just use your hand if its that bad'. Like I said; oddly respectful.

ANYWAY. Like I said, Adam won't ever push it. However, he does make sure that you know his dick is hard and ready whenever you want it. Adam is at your disposal. If you indicate to him in anyway that you are horny, he is ready to go.

Wake up in the middle of the night from a dream? Wake him up too so he can fuck the memory out of you. Adam might be annoyed at first, but as soon as he realizes what's going on, he is so into it.

Are you a female and on your period? He doesn't mind! Adam knows from experience how horny some women get during that time of the month; as well as how a good fuck can relieve cramps.

Out of everyone on this list, Adam is the one you want to pick if you just want a horny motherfucker. Yes, he beats out a pornstar and the literal devil in how much he likes to fuck.

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LINKS AND FURTHER READING ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

My Masterlist for my Other Work: >>HERE<<

AO3 Archive Link: >>HERE<<

Check out this SPICY post by @silasours on what some of the Hazbin men's favorite sex positions are with short fics included >>HERE<<

For something on the fluffy and angsty side, there is a wonderful post by @wysteria-bloom on the Hazbin guys comforting you when they see you crying at a party >>HERE<<

[lsunstreakerl]

i was thinking about in famiglia familia au Red Bull throwing Max a little homeschool graduation?

If Max sat UK school exams he'd get his results for the last week of F1 summer break, so maybe at the first race back there's a cake. Not too much fuss, just a little bit because they all watched him sit on planes and various lobbies/restaurants with flashcards and textbooks studying for months.

we have somehow ended up at 1.1k words again. blame max- for someone who doesn't talk, he sure has a lot of thoughts.

Max isn't sure what he's going to do with himself this season. The last few years- he's always had a textbook laying around, flash cards to work on or homework to do. He doesn't have that anymore.

It's weird to think of himself as a graduate. When he'd been karting, finishing school hadn't been an option.

GP was determined though, and he'd spent countless hours sitting at tables and hotel rooms with Max and his homework, finding him in the garage to check on him and make sure he's taking breaks.

It's paid off, and Max now has more of an education than he'd ever expected of himself- but it's not enough yet.

He wants to go further, wants to take university courses, work in the grease and oil and floor shaking bass of the garages. He always knew racing was going to be part of his life, and he might be tackling it from a different angle now than he'd expected, but- he's proud of himself.

He zips his suitcase shut. He and GP are on one of the final flights out, most of the team in Australia already.

Max is kind of dreading the weather- hot and dry, the kind of heat that makes him wear shorts and thin shirts, the heat that makes him wonder if he can get away with his own ice bath.

Disgustingly enough, it's one of GP's favorite races of the year. Max doesn't understand it.

Max hefts up his pack, waddling it down the stairs since he can't see his feet over the edge. Gianpiero is in the living room already, and their coffee table is full of all the things that he normally keeps in his work bag.

He must be taking inventory. Max sets his bag by the front door before making his way over, staring over GP's shoulder.

"Max, hey. You got all your things?"

Max nods, leaning down and tapping his finger next to the collection of foil packets on the table.

'You do not need to carry those around anymore'

Gianpiero frowns, defensively cupping them under his palm.

"Yes I do- what if you need them?"

Max gives him a flatly unimpressed face.

'I can carry my own'

"Max,"

Gianpiero gives him a soft smile, tucking the painkillers back into their section in the bag, the same spot they've had for years.

"It's okay for me to want to take care of you."

Max shifts on his feet. He knows that- GP has been saying it for several years now- but it's still hard sometimes.

GP pats him gently on the arm.

"Even if you don't need them- it's for my own peace of mind."

Well, Max can't exactly argue with that.

------

The flight to Australia is so mind-numbingly long that Max takes a nap pretty much every time. He says he won't this time while they're boarding.

He does.

Waking up to Gianpiero shaking his shoulder isn't uncommon, and it means they're probably going to start their descent soon. Max yawns so wide he cracks his jaw, lips twitching into a grin at the way GP winces.

"I still think we should say something to your doctor about that."

Max rolls his eyes.

'Reddit says it's fine'

"Right, because we're taking Reddit's word as law now."

Max can see it on Gianpiero's face the instant he realizes what Max is about sign, already scrunching up his nose.

"No- we don't need to-"

'Not what you said when we were cooking turkey last week'

Max and GP are fairly decent at cooking now, but occasionally things get... forgotten. In the oven. While it's on.

GP makes an exaggerated frown at him.

"I thought we swore each other to silence."

'I am always sworn to silence'

Max hides his face in his hand as he shakes with silent giggles, and Gianpiero's groan at the terrible joke can probably be heard a few aisles down.

------

GP is being suspicious.

Max isn't sure what could possibly be so interesting on his phone to captivate his attention the way it is, but somehow it's Max who's guiding them from the hotel to the paddock.

At least the fans aren't crazy yet.

Max narrowly drags GP out of the way of another pole before he pokes him in the shoulder, frowning.

He throws his hands up in the universal 'what the fuck, dude' gesture, and Gianpiero winces, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he takes the lead again.

"Sorry about that Max- it was Christian."

Max lets it slide, but only this once.

------

There's a jazzy pop song playing from the garage, and it's not Nick's terrible 1990's dad rock, so it's probably Callum who has the garage speaker. Max doesn't mind- it's funny to see some of the older guys forget they're not supposed to like it. More than once he's caught Christian or Helmut bopping their heads, and GP's playlist at home would get him ridiculed at the garage for weeks if Max ever leaked it.

Weirdly, Gianpiero stays slightly behind him as Max pushes the door open, and-

"SURPRISE!"

It's multiple voices at once, and Mick is here too, and Max is confused for a moment until his eyes land on the cake on the table.

Congrats, Grad!

It's round, with navy frosting and white letters, a little fondant grad cap and diploma on the side.

Max blinks rapidly, and they really need to maintain this garage better if it's going to be so dusty-

This is for him.

He feels a hand rest gently on his shoulder, turns to see Christian and Adrian standing next to him.

"We're proud of you, Max. You've put a lot of work in- the whole garage can see it. Congratulations."

Max nods softly at Christian's words, and then Adrian is wrapping him in a side hug.

"I know it's hard, getting all your work done with the time zones and the races. I hope you know you did an incredible job anyways."

He has a point- more than once Max had woken up in a cold sweat, not because of a nightmare but because he wasn't sure if he'd missed a due date while on a flight.

There's been some very close calls. As well as many, many missed ones.

Some of the mechanics are surrounding him, and Max has a moment to realize that this is what family feels like.

He'd never thought he would be the kid getting a graduation party- never thought he'd graduate at all.

Gianpiero hugs him, squeezing gently as Max turns to hide his face in his shoulder. He's not going to cry about it. He's not.

GP leans his head down.

"I'm proud of you, Max."

He's crying about it.