#tender is the night? WRONG. the night hurts so bad.

[fishareglorious]

Hi. Vertin kept Schneider’s dress and coat.

[thejujvtsupost]

It’s Always Been You

🍎F!reader, pet names: (pip/squeak, my girl, sweetheart,) suggestive but not smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief miscommunication and lots of groveling but it works out.🍎

Notes: I struggle with editing. This is totally separate from canon bc I’m heartbroken. It’s also my first lads fic, I’ll ALWAYS be a Sylus girlie but Caleb broke my brain for a minute 😭

Poll for a possible part 2 -> Taglist signup for part 2

Caleb joining the DAA wasn’t the problem at hand…No, it was the fact that you were going to be separated. Spending his last night before he leaves wrapped around each other like you always did when things were tough was the best comfort you could get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, do you really have to go?” This was going to be the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were kids, and even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have his phone.

This wasn’t any easier on him but he couldn’t just back out. “I’ll be home before you know it, don’t worry too much.” Caleb brushed the hair from your eyes and held you closer, “plus, you get to have six months free of my constant nagging.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, the tears you were holding back finally fell. Your hands that were originally wrapped around his waist were now at his chest, between your bodies and fisted tightly in his shirt. “But I love you and your nagging!” You inhaled like you were suffocating. Perhaps you were, under the weight of his impending absence.

“Shh I know, I love you and being a pain in your ass.” That earned him a wet chuckle. “I swear, as soon as I’m home I’ll fulfill my promise and I won’t leave your side. You’ll never have to worry again, about anything.” A soft kiss to your temple solidified his vow.

It took you a few long moments before you were able to get in a proper breath and process what he said. “You made a promise?”

“Don’t remember? Hm that won’t do. Think back to when you were 18, and that boy you had a crush on rejected you and broke your heart.”

“I’d prefer not to remember that, actually.”

“But remember after? When you still hadn’t come home by dinner and I found you alone at the park?” Large hands ran down the length of your back to help soothe you while he spoke.

You’re still lost but it’s coming back to you. Confessing to your crush in the park was supposed to be perfect— except he not only rejected you, but he made fun of you. You could respect rejection, but the way he humiliated you and made a scene wasn’t something you wanted to think about. “That day was awful.”

“You were so upset. I wanted to beat him to a pulp but you didn’t want to be alone. Remember what I told you? The pinky promise we made? It’s only been four years you know, I’d hope your memory isn’t that bad yet.”

The moment flooded you then with a gasp, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as I live sweetheart, and when it’s time, when I finally graduate and become a pilot, I swear I’ll marry you myself to prove it.’ And at the time it made you giggle, because surely he was just joking to cheer you up, right? “You meant it?”

Caleb chuckled and lifted your chin to look at you directly, “of course I did, it’s always been you and me. Don’t you know that?”

A fresh wave of tears formed as you surged forward to meet his lips with yours- and stopped out of embarrassment before you could make contact. “Sorry, I didn’t- I think I’m just being emotional—”

But the space between you closed once again and before you could overthink it, Caleb was kissing you the way he’s wanted to for years. His lips were all consuming and tender. His palm cupped your face like it was glass and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through his hair. Kissing Caleb felt like home, like everything was right.

He tried to break away to bring you both air but you refused to let him, instead pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his size. “Slow- slow down, you still need oxygen.” You shook when he started dragging his kisses down your throat, letting out soft moans when gentle sucks were left behind.

“C-Caleb…”

He pulled back and grew tense as if he was afraid he scared you away, “what’s wrong, you tired?” He was trying to give you an out if you wanted it.

You were certain your cheeks were flushed, you shook your head. “I want… more…”

Caleb groaned and buried his face in your neck “you’re killing me, Pip.”

Had you said something wrong? “Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I’ll just-” you loosened your arms from around him, thinking you somehow embarrassed yourself yet again.

He stopped you. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re killing me because you have no idea how badly I want you; how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Really?” Having someone like Caleb love you was the best feeling, but him being attracted to you left you wanting him even more.

Deciding to just show you, he ground his hips into yours. And god, it felt good against you. Just that little bit of contact felt better than anything you ever achieved on your own. “You’re-” hard went unsaid. He grunted when you spread your legs wider for him. “Yeah, I am. And if you want me, then you have me. But you can’t take it back, so if you’re not ready for that commitment…”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“This really isn’t the time for that—”

“Shut up, it’s important.” He sighed and let you continue. Your arms dropped from his neck to hold his face in your hands, brushing the stray hairs from his face. “That guy I had a crush on? I only liked him so much because he reminded me of you. So I’m yours, too. If you want me, then you can take me.”

Words were lost on him so actions took hold, “are you sure?” His kisses resumed their path after meeting your lips, the room grew hotter with each new brush against your skin.

“I trust you, Caleb,” you had no idea your neck was so sensitive, your gasps talking for you. “but I should let you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d kill anyone who ever touched you if you had”

“Isn’t that hypocritical? Should I hunt down your past lovers?” You worked his shirt over his head, the dog tag necklace you gave him mere hours ago dangled in front of your face.

He chuckled and discarded your top, your sleep shorts were next. “It’s funny how you think I’d ever want someone that isn’t you.” His revelation hit you full force: he loves you so deeply, there’s truly no doubt to have. “I’d never do this with anyone else.”

Two things happened that night: your bond was solidified, and unbeknownst to you, a life was created

The goodbye was brutal the next day, already missing him terribly before night fell again.

You managed to fall into a routine, though. You would go to work, occasionally spend time with friends— Tara spent the night with you at least once a week to keep your mind off of things; and the days she didn’t you laid in bed desperately wishing he would be by your side.

Your routine was solid, until a month into your separation when you were sick almost every single day. You were fed up by the time a week passed and the day after that you made your way to visit Zayne- who congratulated you because in his words, ‘he and his wife were expecting as well, perhaps they’ll be friends, too.’ Finding out you were pregnant without Caleb with you was difficult, there wasn’t a way to reach him and share the news.

But you weren’t alone anymore. You spent the time you felt lonely talking to your baby now, who definitely couldn’t hear you yet but that didn’t matter. You were kept company with a perfect blend of you and your Caleb.

According to the official statement released last week Caleb would be home any time today, any minute, any second.

The anticipation left butterflies in your tummy, your baby moving with your nerves. It didn’t occur to you that he might not be happy to be a father, that you might’ve been presumptuous that he’d be ready to care for another life so soon.

And when the door flew open, as much as you wanted to jump into his arms (carefully, of course,) you held your breath and waited for him to notice. And of course, because he was your Caleb, it was right away. His happiness and relief fell away to shock and— was that anger? You didn’t expect anger…

“Welcome home, I—”

“Who else has been here?”

“What? I mean Tara has been keeping me company a few times a week but that’s it.”

“What man has been in our home, pipsqueak.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, just a demand. He’s never been so terse with you…

His tone made you anxious, “No one, other than Zayne and his wife for dinner occasionally— Caleb what are you talking about?”

Caleb dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, still not moving from his spot. “I’m talking about the fact that I came home after six months and you didn’t seem to miss me at all, nothing like the way I missed you. How else would you be pregnant? So who is he? Someone from the Hunters Association?”

Oh… he thought… “Oh my god how could you think- I’d never cheat on you Caleb— EVER how could you even think—”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t have knocked you up in the time I’ve been away.”

A knife cut through you at his words, the accusation, the betrayal of thinking you’d ever be with anyone else. And how vulgar it was… Did your first time mean so little? Was it something he just wanted to get out of the way before he left? A sob escaped you, tears spilled over. “You’re an asshole, Caleb.”

His eyes went wide, “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes! You’re a fucking asshole! I expected you to be shocked but accusing me of cheating on you? Thinking that night was nothing? That’s low. I can’t believe you!”

“That night means everything to me!”

“Ask me how far along I am! Go on, fucking ask!”

That stopped him short, “you mean?”

“SIX MONTHS!” Standing there while he dropped to his knees was barely satisfying. “God I can’t stand you right now! You must’ve lost your damn mind and all your common sense!”

His silence was angering you further, stomping off to the kitchen for a drink of water and trying to calm down was a better use of your time; crying from this much stress wasn’t good for you.

Once he gathered himself he followed you, “Sweetheart… you’re telling me that night…”

“Finally used your brain, did you?”

“I’m so, god I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His hand reached out to bring you in for a hug but you denied him.

“Do. Not. Touch me.” His audacity made you seethe. No way were you going to give in so easily no matter how much you desired to be in his embrace and reassured.

“Sweetheart—”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. We can decide what to do later.”

His emotions began to overflow, the guilt crushing him; the ring in his pocket practically burning into his flesh. “Decide what?”

“Decide if I should even let you stay.” Your throat felt tight but you continued to hold your sobs back. “Your dinner is in the oven by the way, it’s your favorite so I suggest you don’t let it burn.”

A few hours rolled around before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore hearing your sniffles. You hadn’t eaten dinner, who knows if you had any water, and no matter how (rightfully) mad you were, you still needed to eat.

Grabbing a few of your favorite snacks with a glass of juice instead of the untouched dinner he put in the fridge was his safest option, unsure if seeing the meal would upset you further.

“Pip squeak? I know you’re awake.” Crouching by your side of the bed and setting the snacks on the nightstand, “please talk to me?”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that, you have to eat something.”

You poked your head from the blanket, “oh so you care now that you know it’s yours?”

The jab was deserved but it still earned a wince. “I’d still care even if they weren’t.”

“How noble of you. Sticking around to raise a kid that’s not yours before I even have a ring.”

“Who said I didn’t have a ring?” This time you accepted the comfort of his hand brushing your hair behind your ear and gently cupping your cheek.

Curiosity was a bitch, but you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. “You were really mean.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry. I can’t imagine you being with anyone else but I didn’t expect to come home to a family either— and I’m beyond happy to be a dad. It’s not an excuse though, never okay to talk to you like that.”

A few leftover sniffles came before he pulled a tissue from the box on your nightstand, opting to dry your tears himself. “Blow,” He said, holding the tissue to help you blow your nose; then offering you the straw of the juice so you could hydrate.

“I missed you so much, I thought you’d still be happy to see me.”

“I’m over the moon, actually. But I hurt my girl, gotta make things right. Think you can forgive me? I’ll earn it forever.”

“Caleb if you ever, I mean ever, speak to me like that again I won’t hesitate to let you talk to the front door. You’ll be out.”

“I’ll cut my tongue out myself.”

“So dramatic as always.” You rolled your eyes, “you mentioned a ring?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “there’s my girl. You sure you still want it? Or should I earn it first?” He dug into his pants pocket to show you anyway.

“It wouldn’t hurt your efforts.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle fully before presenting the velvet box to you, “I’m pretty close to the ground but if you sit up for me I’ll get on one knee.”

Sitting up to stretch was good for your back anyway, “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

The velvet box opened and your jaw dropped, “picked it out in Skyhaven. Gideon and I helped the elderly owner of a small shop with some boxes he was struggling with in front of his door. Knew it was perfect right away, gorgeous and one of a kind like you.”

“You’re ridiculous, but I love it.” He slid it on your finger and sealed it with a kiss, and you fell into his arms like you’ve wanted to for the last six months.

Pulling away after many minutes of hugs, ‘I love you’s’ and kisses wasn’t welcomed by you. “Now, how ‘bout some dinner? I don’t think snacks are enough, they were backup. Gotta keep you healthy.”

“Did you like it?”

You were pulled to your feet and carried out of the room. “Didn’t eat without you, sweetheart. Having dinner without you and the baby felt empty.”

“Good. You can reheat it then.” You waited for the perfect moment to drop your bombshell, which happened to be when he was carrying a full glass pitcher of water for the table. “We’re having a daughter, by the way.”

The pitcher fell so fast his evol barely managed to catch it before glass hit the ground. It left you feeling smug.

You couldn’t help but cackle at his shocked spluttering, “A WHAT?”

I’m so flattered, I’ve never had so many people interested or had a taglist this long: @pixelcafe-network @kentochronicles @sashisuslover @lunia-likes-pomegranet @elli4ever @mysssticc @kaemaybae @kamisatoaiko @midiplier @jamseashell @llamabois @boba14 @crimsonspring @angrychinchillanoises @ali-shiii @kazbae95 @ifistoptherain @c-I-stinnett @nephelesthoughts @etherealzi @jjoppees @keithkoganeirl

Click here to be added to the taglist for part 2

All divider credits to me @thecutestgrotto

[utterlyazriel]

love will unravel me (so please keep your hands held tight)

sorry if ur seeing this twice !! i am a finicky gal and was tooo sad it didn't appear in the tags so forgive me for the repost <3 it's good ol' hurt/comfort

It's unnerving.

To know something is somehow... wrong and yet, not be able to put your finger on it. Something being off.

There had been something off since your return from the Illyrian Mountains. Like a scar you hadn't ever remembered getting, like a lump in your bed that hadn't been there before.

You had returned to the Night Court only the night before, far later than expected. It had been near twilight, yourself kept late in the war-camps dealing with the unpleasant likes of Lord Devlon. All you wanted to do was to crawl into your waiting bed.

But your bed wasn't empty.

The perfect shape of your mate, tucked beneath the blankets, is one you could recognize in the dark. Even then, you had felt the strange difference — a tickle along the nape of your neck, enough to make you shiver.

Drained of your energy, you carelessly ignore it. Chalk it up to the bad feeling you got every time you went back to those gods forsaken war-camps.

Beyond their terrible ways and nearly tyrannical leaders, your own mate's history there was enough to make you want to burn it to the ground. To scorch and salt the Earth so nothing could grow there for a hundred years as proof of the pain.

So, feeling weary, you crawl into your bed. Your eyes find Azriel sleeping beside you, silent as always, and you trace the delicate features of his face in the dark. Even in his sleep, his shadows, lazy and slow, greet you as a slumber begins to wash over you. The lull of dreams comes quick.

As does morning. But come morning, Azriel isn't there.

Not the most unexpected thing; there were early morning trainings frequently enough. However, Azriel loathed each time you were sent to monitor over those war-camps. He bristled silently each time you left and rejoiced in that quiet, tender way he did best when you came back home to him. A mission in Illyria usually guaranteed a morning in bed with your lover.

Today, the sheets are cold.

You frown as you push yourself up, the sheets pooling at your waist. Faintly, at the back of your neck, you feel it once again. The tickle. Frown deepening, you reached your hand up to scratch at the back of your neck absentmindedly. Your eyes fall on the door.

Like a mystical tug, you feel compelled to search for the Shadowsinger — slipping out of bed silently, the tiled floor is warm from the morning sun beneath your feet. You pull the door open an inch, wondering just where your mate has ambled off to this morning.

As you step through the door, drawn by your mysterious compulsion, you don't turn back to check behind you.

And even if you had, your eyes would glaze over the large Illyrian, still bundled up in your sheets, turning over in his sleep.

—

You find Azriel out on the balcony, not in training as you had suspected.

He's facing out towards the city, his hands braced on the marble, his strong wings held proudly behind him. Interestingly, his shadows have forgone him this morning. Not one of them is in sight. You sidle up to him, feeling more yourself already just seeing him.

"Abandoning me in bed this morning?" You begin, playfully. You reach out to loop a hand through his arm. "I thought you had promised me—"

Your words come to an abrupt halt as Azriel shifts before you can touch him, his arm pulled out of reach.

In fact, as he notices your presence and turns to you, he takes an entire step backward. His handsome face screws up, a frown set on his brow.

"Don't." He says severely.

Your chest pangs with hurt. Your eyebrows crowd together in your confusion, concern beginning to melt into your blood.

"Az?" You say tentatively. You want to step closer to him, to cradle his face in your hands like you do whenever he has that crushed expression on — but a greater part of you fears he may retreat from you again.

"Don't call me that." He say, voice lower. His head dips, turned away from you to hide his face. Your concern swells, a thousand alarms ringing inside your mind. The back of your neck tickles again.

"Azriel," You try again desperately, fighting to keep your voice even. "What happened? What's going on?"

Confusion paints every thought in your mind as it whirls and searches, hunting desperately for the cause of your mate's sudden iciness. Was it something you had done? Was it taking another mission to a place you knew he so despised you going to?

The Fae before you doesn't say a word.

"Azriel," His name comes out a plea, unable to help yourself. It only scratches deeper into your soul when he maneuvers again, quicker than you, purposefully evading your touch.

"Stop." He instructs, the word nearly a growl. His voice is alike to the bark he uses for talking down to unruly war-camp Lords. It's nothing like the soft, sweet tone you're so accustomed to. It makes his words sting even more. "Your touch disgusts me."

You reel back at his words, a sharp inhale shooting to your lungs. What? You could feel your mouth opening and closing, no words coming to fruition. Behind your eyes, you can feel the itch beginning. You will your tears away, confusion still the dominant emotion swirling inside.

"I—" You stammer. "I don't understand."

Azriel snorts, unamused. He crosses his arms across his broad chest, looking more intimidating than usual as he draws to his full height. He keeps his eyes on the ground but the expression on his face looks... bored.

"I've had a revelation."

Another ache resounds through your chest. Why is he being so cryptic? Since when... had disgust been something Azriel had ever associated with you? You shiver at the prickle that rolls down your neck. It's as though you had gone to bed and your mate had been switched in the night.

"Az, you're scaring—"

"Stop calling me that." He snarls, interrupting you. You jolt in surprise, your feet taking a step back. With the way he's leering over you, a hint of anger —anger you've never seen directed at you before— creeping into his face, something akin to fear grows within you.

Azriel is stronger than you and far more deadly. A fact that usually provides comfort, for the first time, only grows your unease.

"Don't you want to hear my revelation?" He asks, his growl barely reined in. He smiles down at you but it's not soft in the way you know. It's cruel.

You take a step back. Something is wrong— terribly, entirely and utterly wrong with the love of your life. Panic begins to bubble up, like waters rising in a sinking ship.

You need to find someone else. You need Cassian, need Rhys, need anyone else here to help because you are the worst person to help. Every word he says cuts deep to bone. You can feel your heart bleeding within your chest.

It has to be a trick.

That was all you could think. Your mind was stumbling over the sentence over and over, almost delirious in how it clung to the thought tightly. It must, it must —you hoped it was. Begged it to be.

You take another step back, ready to dash through the house and call for help — but Azriel takes another step toward you. Your fear spikes, looking up his snarled face, the power within him radiating off in waves.

"I came to realise that I don't—"

"—y/n?"

A voice cuts in. There's someone else on the balcony with you. Thank the Mother, you think to yourself, whipping around to find Cassian in the doorway. He's got a furrow in his brown, concern written all over his expression.

"Cassian," You breath his name in a sigh of relief. You step back again, hyper aware of how Azriel seems to take the exact same amount of steps as you, following you to the door. Your panic flares away, your breaths coming fast and short.

"Cassian, thank gods—" You begin.

"What's happening?" He interrupts urgently. His eyes are on you alone, never flickering across to Azriel out on the balcony. "Why are you— did you have another nightmare?"

"Nightmare?" You repeat, eyes wide as you stare at him in concerned bewilderment.

You're about to point out the very large intimidating Male staring you both down when Azriel speaks again.

"I said," He drawls out the word and your head snaps back to look at him. You fail to notice that Cassian doesn't even turn at all.

"I've had a revelation, my dear."

It all sounds so terribly sarcastic, such a far cry from your stoic, sincere mate. You cringe, already feeling how his next words will be made cut you down.

"I don't want you anymore."

"—what can you see?—" Cassian's voice speaks from beside you, fuzzy and out of focus. You stare at Azriel, your heart beginning to hum and fizzle, a thousand fissures breaking upon the surface.

An anguish so deep in your bones rattles through your body — and across the House of Wind, your real mate wakes up with a gasp at the feel of it.

"What?" You croak, unable to tear your eyes away from Azriel.

You can feel Cassian's hands on your shoulder, shaking you, but you can't— you won't look away. Something deep within you compels you to watch him break your heart and shred your soul. The back of your neck singes with heat.

"—What is it you're seeing?!—" Cassian's voice dips in and out. His hand sweeps your hair back, looking for any ailments causing this. He finds it in an instant. "Holy Cauldron, your neck. Oh, that's so not good. Rhys!"

He bellows for the Highlord right as Azriel, the real Azriel, bursts in through the door — following the taut agonizing pain in his chest, that connects you two together. His eyes snag on you and Cassian, out on the balcony, and his brother turns to him but you do not.

"Azriel," Cassian warns. "It's a Vesania Sigil."

Azriel pays him no heed, even as the words echo through him with a darkened dread. His stomach turns, bile threatening.

A Vesania Sigil— his knees nearly threaten to buckle beneath him.

A Vesania Sigil is a sinister curse, placed on people to drive them to the brink of insanity, minds scrambled to exhaustion.

In all the times Azriel has seen them in his long lifetime... they have all been on dead Fae, driven to the point of taking their own life. His shadows burst into a frenzied storm.

Your eyes are fixed somewhere out of the balcony, a glaze to them that tells Azriel you're seeing something different than he can. Softly, as gently as he can, he strides out and Cassian steps back to let him. Azriel steps down onto the balcony beside you, slowly, delicately reaching out to touch you.

You startle, head snapping around to see who's touched you. Except when you drag your gaze up and meet his face, you flinch hard. Azriel feels misery twist deep into his heart, some buried fear within him coming true before his eyes.

You take a step back, stumbling as you do. Then your head turns back out to the balcony—then back to him, back and forth.

"W—What?" You stammer out.

It takes Azriel only one second to realise why, and to feel the agony as he does; you're seeing double.

When you had said he's everything to you, you had truly meant it. He is both your greatest love and... your greatest fear.

Azriel can feel Rhys' arrival somewhere behind him, can even hear Cassian's concerned voice filling him in but his entire focus is locked onto you. You've stumbled back again, falling painfully on your backside, barely catching yourself on your hands but something— someone on the balcony keeps frightening you.

Something in Azriel screams; how can he fight an enemy he cannot see or touch?

He's on his knees before you in an instant. You're beginning to tremble, silent tears on your cheeks and Azriel's heart wails as you look upon him with a face for a fear. He can't tell what you're seeing but he just needs you to see him.

"My love," He says, voice quiet as to not spook you. You whimper at his words and something shrivels up inside Azriel's chest. He continues, noting how your eyes flick rapidly between his face and something over his shoulder. You shuffle back, too hesitant to trust him.

"My love, my moon," He murmurs, gently reaching out for you. His shadows zip forward, soothing along your skin. You flinch back again but Azriel holds strong, nudging forward until he's touching your skin.

You wince and screw your eyes closed and Azriel can feel the fear, the tormented pain that pours down the bond. He can see it now, this close, the seal that's burning against the skin of your neck. A fiercely protectiveness anger burns in his gut and he vows to tear apart whoever did this to you, limb by limb.

"I don't know what you can see," He say, soft as he can. He lifts his other hand and cradles the other side of your face. Your eyes peek open. "But it's not true. None of it."

Your lips are quivering, lashes sparkling with how they catch your tears. Azriel feels sick to his stomach again; he could do a thousand battles with countless weapons but this is something he's entirely powerless against.

"Azriel," Rhys speaks up from behind, voice cautious. Azriel ignores him, his thumbs stroking softly over your face.

"It's not real." He says with more urgency. Your eyes dart over his shoulder again and a whimper slips out your throat, your body tensing. Real, raw pain scratches it's way down the bond.

"Azriel, I can get it off her." Rhys voice again. "You just need to keep her still."

Azriel nods, but doesn't turn, doesn't take his eyes off you for a single moment. His heart squeezes and cracks, a thousand shards littered through his ribcage when you finally speak. Your glassy eyes have lost a little of their glaze, fixed on your mate in front of you with a desperate plea.

"He—" You begin, sucking in a harsh breath. Your breathing is too fast, your heartbeat too. "It- it fucking—it looks just like you."

"It's not." Azriel assures in an instant. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours, trying to be the picture of calm for you even as his heart warbles in agony at your pain. "It's not me."

Your eyes shift over his shoulder again and Azriel moves this time, blocking your view. "Don't. Keep your eyes on me. Look at me."

Silently, Rhys kneels at your side, his violet eyes blazing where they’re fixed on your neck. Undoubtedly, this was not such a personal attack but something to harm the inner circle. As darkness begins to swirl from Rhys' fingers, orbiting the sigil, you begin crying again, fresh tears spilling down your chests as little gasps wrack your frame.

"It—" You gasp, suddenly focusing desperately on Azriel now that you know who's who. "It— gods, it sounds so much like you."

"It might, but it isn't me." Azriel promises. He aches when your hands suddenly shoot up, eyes screwed shut as you clamp your hands down over your ears — like whatever you could hear was causing you physical pain. Rhys mutters something under his breath, his hands still working.

"Eyes on me.” Azriel urges, knowing you can hear him. You whimper and pitch forward, forehead bowing to your knees. His hands fall away as your head begins to give tiny shakes, side to side. His shadows swarm your shoulders, unsure how to help.

“Don’t—“ For the first time, Azriel’s voice falters with a wobble. He tries not to think of the countless warriors who have fallen beneath a sigil this strong and mentally roars at Rhys to move faster. “Listen to me, my love. Listen, listen to my voice, please.”

Your breathes are ragged, staggering inhales as you press your head between your knees. You entire body shakes and Azriel dares to steal a glimpse at the back of your neck — the intricate rune imprinted on your skin shimmering black as it slowly seals.

"Keep," Rhys grits out, his concentration still focused on his power. "her still."

Azriel's hands dart out, already apologising at how he has to force your head out of hiding. You gasp and sob, pulling back to resist but Azriel holds tight, his hands holding your face as tenderly as he can.

He pushes forward, crowding in, until his forehead rests against yours. He summons everything he can within himself, every ounce of devotion he holds for you and send its down the thread in his chest til everything burns white hot.

"Look at me, my love. Show me your eyes. Listen to my voice." Once the silent stoic type, Azriel lets everything that comes to mind fall out his mouth.

Your eyes crease open, flush with tears, and you shudder against him but Azriel feels it. The push back. The press of your skin against his, trying to get closer, trying to get to safety. Rhys curses for a moment, his dark magic still swirling and Azriel resists every urge to howl at him to hurry.

"Tellmetellmetellmetellme," You chant in a whisper, half delirious. You're flicking between his hazel eyes, your hands still half over your ears, body still wracked with quivers.

Tell me. Azriel's soul feels marred at the reveal of what is taunting you and he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, drawing your attention to him.

"I love you," He says, voice sounding close to wrecked. "I love you and you're mine. I'm yours and you're mine."

You shudder violently, eyes crushing closed, right as Rhys pulls away with an exhausted sigh. It's gone. Azriel hears Rhys' voice in his mind but it's not even needed — not with the way you suddenly slump forward into him, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"It's okay, it's gone," Azriel murmurs lowly, gathering you up in his arms as much as he can. He can feel your body shaking against him, sobs still forcing their way up your throat. His wings wrap around you, an inky cocoon of safety, sealing you off from the world.

"It's gone," He repeats, his arms circling around you. He can feel the pitter-patter of your rabbiting heart, feel the remains of fear that hang around your system. Every cell in his body yearns at this injustice, the fabric of the mating bond sending his protectiveness into overdrive. But more than the urge to hunt and maim whoever harmed you is the overwhelming need to make sure you're safe.

"You're safe now, I swear. It wasn't real." His assurances continue softly, his body instinctively beginning a slow rock to soothe you. You sobs slow to cries, your hands twisted tightly into his sleep-shirt. "I love you. I love you."

By the time your breathing evens out and your hiccuping cries slow, it's some time later. Your face has been buried in Azriel's chest and when you finally dig it out, Azriel's heart disintegrates once more at your blotty skin, your tired eyes.

You don't even have to ask.

"Vesania Sigil." He says quietly, hazel eyes burning into your face.

You can feel his writhing worry through the bond, like a caged tiger, fiery hot and licking at your heels. You give a little sniffle. Open your mouth to speak and find not one word in your throat.

Azriel's moving deftly before you can think, his strong arm looping beneath your knees to scoop up you against his chest. You let yourself be coddled, thankful to the way he curls himself around you entirely, wings hiding your view — only a flash on the ceiling to be seen. You're not sure you can face the others just yet.

The door your bedroom opens as he nears and Azriel kneels on the edge of the bed, his strong thighs maneuvering you both up til he's rested up against the headboard. Pure exhaustion like nothing you've felt before creeps up from within you.

Yet even so, you feel your heart twinge. It's been chafed raw today. Your hands slither and squirm, til they're wrapped tight around Azriel's middle and he hums protectively, his wing draping over you like a blanket.

For a moment, there is only weary, tired silence.

"Tell me?" You ask in a whisper, your voice so, so small. Azriel aches at the pain in your voice, sending every assurance down the golden thread between you.

"You're mine," He says, voice hushed and yet doused in his love.

"I'm yours." You echo, voice a little stronger than before. He can feel the way you tug on the bond, as if checking its still secure— still unbreakable. "And you're mine?"

Azriel folds himself even closer and tugs back on the bond strongly. His scarred hand glides up to bury itself in your hair, massaging slow and sweet. His nose nuzzles in against your hairline, his lips pressing a kiss wherever they find skin.

"And I'm yours." He agrees.

[kykyonthemoon]

Comforting

When he comforts a reader who is so stressed and upset that she bursts into tears.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader (MC)

Included parts in order: Sylus, Caleb

This is the second part of the same prompt, for the two said characters, after my first one - "Soothing" for Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne.

── .✦ Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, comfort, long-distance relationship (Caleb's)

── .✦ Word count: 1k3

── .✦ Requested by Lightbook Aki

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

Sylus

"Let's go." Sylus tossed you the key to one of the two motorcycles parking in front of the flat. You were puzzled:

“To where?”

“Anywhere you want. Just ride.”

After he finished speaking, he started his motorcycle. Its scream seemed like both an invitation and an urging to you. 

You put on the helmet. Even though you constantly mentioned that you wished to ride about the city with him at night, Sylus's arrival at your door so late at night seemed odd. Particularly since you were in such a bad mood. And was it Luke and Kieran that you had just seen earlier nearby?

The motorbike that Sylus chose for you was a bit smaller than his, and matched your physique well. You did not object anymore. And so your night out began. 

A cool night wind blew. You kept on riding, not knowing where you were heading. Sylus rode safely away from you while keeping you in sight. He would sometimes approach you, as if to remind you that he had always been by your side on this journey.

Away from the noise of the city, you chose to stop on a hill on the outskirts. Sylus pulled up behind you when you got off the motorcycle and removed your helmet.

Nobody uttered a thing. Sylus waited close, watching you go around, your feet stepping on the dirt and rocks below in discomfort. After a while, when he realized he had no way of keeping you like that, Sylus approached you and gently seized your elbow, drawing you back to look at him.

"If the ride wasn't so enjoyable, we can go further."

"No... I just..." You halted because you were unsure if you should tell him or not. Was it appropriate to share such private emotions given that the two of you had just recently met?

"How do you know that I need a change of scenery? Was it Mephisto again?"

Sylus grinned. His index finger curled, and he swiped it over your nose. "Your thoughts are all reflected on your face like that. You haven't left your flat in days. Even without Mephisto, I suspect that something is wrong with you. Say it out. I am here to listen to you."

You took a brief glance at Sylus. The wind blew, ruffling the curls of hair on his forehead. You paused for a moment before telling him about how you ended up ending someone's life before they turned completely into a Wanderer on the last mission. That tormented you to no end.

When you finished the story, Sylus said: "You did what needed to be done. It wasn't your fault." He gently inclined his chin towards the gracefully illuminated city of Linkon on the horizon and continued, "This place is calm, thanks to you. You did very well."

That alone was enough to make you cry. You attempted to fight back your burning tears, but just as you were going to wipe them away and turn everywhere, Sylus grasped your hand tightly. His other hand caressed your cheek in a tender gesture, but did not wipe away your tears. He told you:

"Just let it all out."

And so you wept. You failed to recall the last time you ever sobbed like this. You had always believed that you were capable and powerful enough to battle Wanderers and defend others. But, in the end, you sought someone to tell you that you did the right thing by eliminating a soul's suffering, or that you did not have to bear it all on your own.

Sylus, resting on his motorcycle, softly raised your hand. His lips almost brushed it as he muttered, "Sometimes we have no option. Sometimes we have to deal with worse things than Wanderers. You just need to choose what is most important to you and do your best to protect it..."

Sylus halted and softly stroked your hand. His crimson eyes fixed on you, giving you an odd sense of reliability.

"Just like what I'm doing right now, protecting the most important person who is right in front of me."

Caleb

With a pleasant box of ice cream in hand, you sat on the porch of a closed business. It was dark, yet you refused to go home. You had been strolling the streets of Linkon all evening.

You did not have dinner yet. Both eyes were swollen. Your hair was a disaster. Everyone knew you had a rough day based on your look, and it was best for them to stay away from you. You searched for the phone in your coat pocket. A name displayed on the screen; it was Caleb's account.

But you sighed and put your phone away. These insignificant concerns were not worth his attention. You could manage it entirely on your own. You hoped that the next day, despite your current situation, you would return to your cheerful, active self. 

Opening the ice cream box, you began eating little spoonfuls. If Caleb was here, would it not be great? You would tell you about how you were bullied at work, unfairly accused, and how people turned their backs on you without knowing the whole story. But in the end, nothing was important anymore. Everything you could do to salvage the situation had been done. What you needed at that moment was a little consolation from someone, but that person was a long way from here.

You had learnt to handle challenges on your own when Caleb enrolled at the Academy in Skyhaven. You had always proven that you were mature and responsible enough not to disturb him. When you started this long-distance relationship, you knew he could not always come racing to you when you needed him, and there would be moments when you were entirely alone like this.

The ice cream box was about half-empty. The lightly inhabited street became even quieter. Perhaps you should go home. Still, tears went on falling. As the world faded away in weeping, you noticed that person's silhouette growing more and more apparent. Then a large hand rested on your head.

"You're all grown up, yet you're sobbing while eating ice cream here. Aren't you worried that others will laugh at you, pip-squeak?"

That voice belonged to Caleb. You rubbed your eyes. He instantly squatted in front of you, his mouth beaming and his hand aiding you in wiping away the tears.

"Caleb?"

He replied, "I'm here. Tell me. Who bullied my pipsqueak?"

You sniffled. Seeing him like that was a genuinely unexpected blessing. Of course, your spirit was also much lifted. You said:

"Who would dare to bully me? I just... wanted to eat ice cream. But how did you find me?"

"I received a call from Tara. She updated me on what occurred at work and then mentioned she could no longer contact you. She was concerned about something happening to you and asked me to reach out to you."

"Then… why did you come here instead of giving me a call?"

Caleb lightly squeezed your cheek. "If I called, you'd act as if nothing happened, right? You always go here for a box of ice cream when you're feeling low. That habit has not changed."

You had to confess that Caleb knew you too well. When you were depressed and didn't want to do anything else, he went out and bought you a box of ice cream from this store. He also said that as long as you had it, you would become happier. Since then, the ice cream here had served as your spiritual comfort whenever you started to feel down.

Caleb closed the ice cream box and held it in his free hand. He stood up and extended another hand towards you, saying: 

"Let's go home."

You felt instantly at ease. When Caleb helped you up, you grabbed his hand and leaped into his arms, hugging him by the neck hard. Perhaps as long as you had him, it did not matter anymore if the entire world turned against you.

Banner photos from Ghibli and screenshots by LittleBunnyCC

[starlightandfairies]

Ahhh your writing is just perfect! ❤️ I dare for another idea hehe 🫶🏼 just maybe something where you're dating but you get incredibly jealous as Katherine appears back in town and you know of their past. So you think it would be better to step back for a while but Elijah notices immediately and misses you as you not show up at any occurrence. He later finds you at the Grill, talking with the Salvatores about that topic and Elijah eavesdropped the whole conversation, finally realizing what's wrong with you and feeling bad for this to happen, as he only has eyes and feelings towards you. Then one night he invites you over to his house and tells you about his feelings and that you don't have to worry about Katherine as she's long forgotten to him and he proves that to you that night? ☺️ Ugh I love cute and fluffy Elijah !

Description: With Katherine back in town, knowing Elijah's past with Katherine brings some unwanted shades of jealousy to the reader. 

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for both of your lovely requests! I hope you also enjoy this one and thank you as well for your kind words!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view, F/fs = favourite flowers

Word Count: 1,279

First Person's POV 

Elijah and I currently sat in my favourite café, it was normally very quiet and once again today was one of those days. Elijah stared at me with admiration, he held my hand softly in his, rested small kisses on my knuckles and whispered words of devotion. 

"I'm just going to run to the bathroom." Elijah nodded, resting another kiss on my hand and finally let me go off to the bathroom, I did what I needed to do and finally came back out. I stopped in my tracks, seeing a brunette talking to Elijah, he looked less than impressed, he looked pissed and I could only assume what that meant. 

"Katherine." I simply stated, choosing to sit beside Elijah instead of across from him, the woman forced a smile to her lips the resting bitch look not fading from her eyes. I could feel this twinge of hurt and jealousy invading my being. Katherine took it upon herself to sit down and join us, Elijah let go of my hand and the once gentle and tender look that decorated his features was long gone. 

"What was your name again...?" 

"Y/n" I answered, hating the way she stared at Elijah, I knew of their past as Elijah had been quite open about his past relationships. Katherine nodded, shrugging and turned her attention to Elijah. I grabbed my things, kissed his cheek and pushed myself up to leave. 

"Bonnie wanted me to do something, I'll see you later." Elijah nodded, staring at me for a moment, I walked out before anything could be said and made my way to Bonnie's house. I asked Bonnie to do a spell, something that would allow me to go under the radar and not be found by Elijah considering that I would be distancing myself from the love of my life to conceal the ugly green monster. 

I had been cancelling dates, vague answers over the phone and would leave quickly with some bullshit excuse if Elijah appeared out of the blue. I could tell he could sense something was, I didn't want to mention that something was wrong and he hadn't questioned my actions. 

Elijah's POV 

Something was wrong with Y/n I couldm't place my finger on what it was, I couldn't understand what had happened and why she decided to almost disappear. I was missing her dearly, I missed seeing her smile, I missed her silly little jokes and her ability to make all my world seem so much better against all the issues going down. I missed her little rambles she would go on, the point is that I miss her and I don't know how to bring her back to me. 

I had finally been able to catch the trail and follow her around, see if I could understand what was going on and it took me to the Grill. I stood near the bar, blending into the ground and proceeded to listen in on her conversation with the Salvatore brothers. 

"I know it's silly of me but I can't help but be jealous." 

"Come on, you know that the noble fossil wouldn't cheat on you." Damon remarked, a clear roll of the eyes that made Y/n whack him lightly. 

"I being serious Damon! I know he has history with Katherine, when he was human he loved Tatia and then he found Katherine. What if her coming back brings back the feelings? I can't stand the idea of him leaving me for her and I don't want that to happen."

"Y/n have you tried speaking with Elijah? You know he'd hear you out and he'll be respectful of what you're going through." I let out a breath, I clenched my eyes shut, hating in myself for not reading the signs. If I knew sooner I would've done everything in my power to reassure Y/n that the only person my heart sings for is her. 

"He's a 1000+ year old vampire, he has more important things than dealing with my petty feelings." 

"Y/n listen here. Elijah worships the ground you walk on, he wouldn't think any less of you for worring about Katherine. We all know what Katherine is like and you have every reason to be worrying about it." Damon's response seemed to freeze her in her place. 

"Thank you..." 

Four nights later, I invited Y/n to come over, I will admit I was surprised when she agreed. We journed to my bedroom, she placed herself on the bed, fiddled with her hands and I took this as an opportunity to shut down the feelings of doubt and jealousy. 

"Y/n the other night, I overheard you speaking to the Salvatores about what's been going on..." She buried her face in her  hands, looking ashamed and worried about what I could possibly say. I sat beside her, took her hand and cupped her face in my other hand to ensure she met my eyes. 

"I understand your worries completely. I understand and I want you to know, that Katherine does not matter to me. She hasn't for 500 years. All I care about is you, no one else matters to me, just you. I love you with all my heart, I love your smile and your little jokes. I love when you leave me a note with a little picture, I worship the ground you walk on and I will go to hell back to prove that I love you as much as I do. I am awfully sorry that you haven't felt as if you could speak to me and I feel awful that this happened. But please, my love... know that I would never ever dream of breaking your heart and leaving you alone. You have my word, I promise you that I won't let the devil of a woman try and break us apart because she is long forgetten." 

She took a few breaths, Y/n moved closer to me, rested a kiss upon my forehead and took a moment before finding the courage to speak. 

"I am sorry, I'm sorry that I didn't come to you, I'm sorry I didn't allow you to know what was going on. It was fair of me to shut you out when you haven't done anything to warrent it. Please forgive me." 

"There's nothing to apologise or forgive for. My love, let me prove to you my undying and everlasting love for you." Her shy little smile brought a smile to my lips, I cupped her face in my hands, bringing her in for a kiss and listened to her hum as I brought her into my arms for an embrace, Y/n took a moment to breathe and whispers softly into my ear. 

"i love you, Elijah. I love you more than you'll ever know." 

"I love you more my love." 

First Person's POV 

Late into the night, we lay in each other's arms, Elijah and I lay naked under the blankets. My headed rest on his chest, he took my hand away lying across him and brought my hand to rest a sweet and longing kiss against my palm. The action was enough to keep my smile stuck on my lips and it was enough for me to snuggle in closer to him with my hand resting in his and his tender eyes continuing to made me feel incredibly loved and devoted to. 

[aeralux]

"Pretty When You Cry" - Jacaerys Velaryon

Modern!Jace x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Like all good things, your relationship with your boyfriend, Jacaerys, must come to a (bitter) end. You always knew he was 'trouble', but his turning to stronger substances was the final straw for you. Thinking you have seen the last of him, you slowly start to let go. Until one evening, a sad brown-eyed boy stands under your window.

Warnings: badboy!Jace; SMUT; alludes to smoking weed; substance abuse (very light, not detailed); bad language; fingering; slight angst; FLUFFY

Words: 9.7k

Notes: No physical description of the reader (other than she has hair). This smut is way softer compared to my others, but I kinda like it. Mentions them smoking weed together (once), but it doesn't mean I condone it (it just fits into the story).

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

You were a cold person—a real fortress of ice (or, in other words, a 'bitch'). Always had been. Keeping outsiders at arm’s length was second nature to you; the warmth of companionship felt unfamiliar and unwelcome. That’s why it was so damn weird when Jacaerys, that threat of a guy, somehow crept his way past your defences and cracked the surface of your rigid heart.

Everyone knew Jace was trouble. He was dressed in a leather jacket, had wild hair, and had a charming smile. He thrived on chaos, making a mess of everything and everyone he encountered.

But with you, it was different. There was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness amidst all that hostility. You’d find yourselves huddled in the shadows of the school, sharing cigarettes like secrets, each drag pulling you deeper into his messy orbit. Weekends melted into hazy afternoons spent sprawled on his couch, escaping reality with thick clouds of smoke, giggles spilling from your lips as you blissfully ignored the ticking clock.

But like all sweet things, that honeymoon phase didn’t last. Soon, the thrill of getting high on weed wasn't enough for Jace; he craved something stronger, something that could drown the demons clawing at his insides. That’s when he started craving cocaine, seeking out dealers and new highs, convinced the world would be brighter on the other side. But it took only one wrong turn; one bad choice. He got caught, his friend’s betrayal cutting deeper than any blade when they ratted him out.

The weight of that reality crashed down on you like a ton of bricks. Breaking it off was like tearing flesh from bone, but staying was not an option. You couldn’t tether your soul to a sinking ship. You felt hollow, your heart twisting painfully in your chest as you abandoned the love you once thought could save him. Sure, it hurt like hell, but you understood that you had to protect yourself. You had your own battles to fight, and getting lost in his darkness would only bury you in the ruins of his choices.

With a weary sigh, you flopped onto your bed, staring at old photos that felt like ghosts from another life. Each smile captured in those pictures stung with nostalgia—memories now laced with an ache that wouldn’t fade. You scrolled through them, pain blossoming in your chest as you clicked delete, one after another, feeling like pieces of yourself were vanishing along with them.

Just as silence threatened to suffocate the room, it shattered with a sharp ping against your window. Irritated, you shot up, heart racing. Those pesky crows made trouble every night, and here they were again. But then another pebble hit, and again—this was getting ridiculous. Who the hell was out there? It was nearly midnight, for crying out loud.

“Oh my God!” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you yanked open the window. A pebble narrowly missed your head, landing with a soft thud on your bed. “Stop! I have a bat! And trust me, I will use it if I have to!” Your voice carried a tinge of annoyance but an undertone of curiosity behind your words.

“Wait! No! I’m sorry, just listen to me,” came the soft, pleading voice that made your heart stutter. You froze, disbelief crashing over you like a wave. It was Jacaerys, and you hadn’t heard that voice in months—months that felt like an eternity. His parents had sent him to an inpatient treatment centre outside the city.

Your mouth hung open, breath hitching in your throat. “Jace…” you whispered, a flood of emotions washing over you. “You’re back.” The simple words felt loaded, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken between you two—the love, the hurt, the wreckage of what once was.

Everything you thought you had pushed away surged back up, a mix of joy, anger, and longing swirling like a violent storm inside you. Your heart raced with uncertainty, the possibility of fresh pain coursing through your veins. You stood there, teetering on the edge, wondering if this moment would lead you back to paradise or into the depths of despair.

"Can I come up?" His voice was soft and hesitant, a stark contrast to the insolence you used to know. It felt foreign, almost shaky, and it sent a wave of tension crashing over you. You paused, biting your lip as a million questions swirled in your mind. Had he changed, or was this just a façade? But deep down, you could no longer deny it—the way your heart betrayed you, ached with longing for the boy you once knew.

“Yeah, yeah… sure,” you managed to whisper, your voice so faint it was almost lost to the night. The moment the words escaped your lips, you felt a rush of adrenaline and fear. Jacaerys climbed the trellis with practised ease, his movements almost instinctual.

When he finally stood before you, the sight sent a chill racing down your spine. Those dark circles under his eyes. The bruise on his cheek was a sickening shade of purple. And that cut on his lip? It brought back memories of all the times he had worn his pain-like armour, too proud to let anyone see him break.

Before you could muster a single question, before you could voice the countless thoughts that flooded your mind, he pulled you into a tight embrace that stole the breath from your lungs. His body was cold against yours, sending tingles across your skin, and it took everything in your power not to shiver. You hugged him back fiercely, almost desperate, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He smelled like pine trees and the faintest hint of cigarettes—familiar and intoxicating. It was a scent that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, despite the chill of reality. All the memories rushed back, the laughter, the secrets shared in the dark, and the way he used to make everything seem okay, if only for a moment. You felt the weight of unresolved feelings crash over you, the longing too powerful to fight anymore. In that moment, it was just the two of you against the world, and it felt both terrifying and achingly perfect.

Jacaerys held you tightly, his heart pounding wildly against your chest, the rapid thumping echoing in the heavy silence around you. It was a physical reminder of everything that had brought him back to this moment. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, the softness of your curves pressed against him, and it took him back to all the nights he had spent longing for your closeness, wishing he could turn back time. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled your familiar scent—sweet and grounding—letting it envelop him like a warm blanket in the cold void of his regrets.

"I've missed you," he murmured into your hair, voice thick with emotion. Each word felt like a confession, raw and vulnerable, stripping away the armour he usually wore. "More than you'll ever know."

He sensed you tremble ever so slightly in his arms, and an urgency surged through him. He tightened his grip as if you could slip through his fingers at any moment. He understood that you had every right to be furious, to push him away, and yet, he clung to the fragile hope that a flicker of affection still resided within you, that somewhere beneath the pain, there was still space for him.

"I'm sorry," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it louder might shatter the moment. "I'm sorry for everything. For hurting you, for making you feel… God, I can't even imagine the kind of pain I put you through. But I swear to you, I’m going to make this right. I'm going to fix this, fix us. If you'll let me."

He pulled back slightly, his heart racing as he searched your eyes, desperately seeking any sign that you still cared. In the depths of your gaze, he saw layers of pain, confusion, and simmering anger, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface. It ignited a flicker of determination within him.

"Please," he urged, desperation dripping from his words, his voice cracking with vulnerability. "Just give me a chance to explain. A chance to show you that I can be better… for you."

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that felt almost sacred. He watched as goosebumps rose on your skin, a testament to the electric current sparking between you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours in a soft touch, but kissing you yet.

He pulled back, eyes locked on yours, his breath hitching in his throat as he waited. He needed your answer, your next move. The silence hung heavy around you, a fragile moment suspended in time, and he dared to hope, praying that you still felt something for him.

"I missed you too," you whisper, your voice quivering. With shaking hands, you reach out to touch his hair, needing to feel the proof of his presence. "Every day…every single day," you choke back a sob, leaning your forehead against his. Your fingers tangle in his soft brown curls, a familiar comfort.

Your heart aches as you take in his appearance. He looks different, the light in his eyes dimmed. What did they do to him in that centre? You want to ask, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you hold him tighter, breathing in his scent, letting it wash over you like a balm.

You don't know what the future holds, but at this moment, you know one thing for sure - you have never stopped loving him, no matter how hard you have tried.

Jacaerys felt your fingers tangling in his hair, grounding him amidst the disorder swirling inside. It was a connection he craved, raw and vital—like air, like life.

"I'm here now," he murmured, his voice low, heavy with sincerity. "And I’m not going anywhere this time."

He lifted his head, locking eyes with you, and the intensity of his gaze felt electric. "What happened… what I did… it won't happen again. I swear it on my life. I’ve finally started to grasp who I am, what I’ve lost, what I can’t afford to lose again."

His hands found your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones in a way that felt like both a promise and a plea. "You matter. More than anything else in this messed-up world. I was lost before, but every step I take now is bringing me back to you."

He could see the tears welling in your eyes, ready to spill over, and it twisted his insides. The sight of your hurt, knowing he was the reason behind it, was a weight he had to carry. But right now, as you clung to him with a desperation that echoed his own, he vowed fiercely that he would never be the cause of your pain again.

"Shh," he soothed, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek, a tender attempt to wipe away the heartache. "I know I hurt you. I messed up. God, I messed up so badly. But I promise—I'm going to be the man you deserve. The man I should’ve been all along."

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you like a stronghold, desperate to shield you from the world’s cruelty. At this moment, it felt like the air around you was dense with possibility, your broken pieces finally finding their match in each other. He poured everything he had into that embrace, pouring out a torrent of feelings he hoped you'd understand without him needing to say them.

"I love you," he whispered, each word hanging in the space between you like a confession, a truth he could no longer keep buried. "I never stopped loving you. Not for a single damn second."

His heart raced as he leaned in, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, hungering for that connection. He wanted to lose himself in your kiss, to drown in everything that was you, but he held back, desperate for your consent, your willing embrace. His body thrummed with electric anticipation, but he forced himself to wait, needing you to take that leap with him.

"My sweet boy," you murmured, your voice cracking slightly as you leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his forehead. The warmth of his skin beneath your touch sent a comforting flutter through your chest, but the sight of his bruised face twisted your heart. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, fingers trembling slightly as you traced the outline of his face, lingering on the cut that marred his plump lower lip. It was red and swollen, a stark reminder of whatever he had been through.

"What happened?" The question slipped from your lips, heavy with concern and a desperate need to understand. You searched his eyes, those deep pools that were usually so full of life now clouded with shadows. Each second that passed without an answer felt like a knife twisting in your gut. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the months apart pressing down on you; the world had felt so hollow without him.

Even after all this time, your feelings hadn’t dulled—they had only grown sharper, fueled by the fear of losing him again. You wanted to wrap him in your arms and shield him from every pain, every fight. He had come back, against all odds. For you. Because of you. The thought was both a balm and a burden. The intimacy of the moment hung heavily in the air—a fragile mix of relief and anxiety, love and unspoken fear. You wanted to protect him, to erase the hurt from his past, but you feared that you weren’t enough.

As you looked at him, your heart ached with the need to defy every obstacle that had pulled you apart. You could see that it scared him, too—the possibility of falling back into the darkness. You drew in a shaky breath, your thumb brushing over his lip again as if your touch could somehow erase the pain he was feeling. "Please, just tell me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "I’ll be right here, I promise." The weight of your words hung between you as you tried to bridge the insurmountable distance.

At that moment, the world outside faded, leaving just the two of you caught in the chaos of emotions—anguish mixing with an undeniable spark of love that danced in your hearts. But despite the love, the turmoil of his silent suffering threatened to unravel everything you held dear. And you would do anything to keep that from happening.

Jacaerys felt the warmth of your touch on his marred lip, a jolt of electricity firing through him that made him close his eyes. He leaned into your caress, every featherlight brush igniting a craving he'd been nursing for months. Your gentle touch, the loving concern in your gaze—it was everything he’d been missing. Shame and relief danced inside him like a twisted waltz, and he couldn’t decide which one was winning.

When you asked about the bruises, he opened his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed. The vulnerability in his gaze must have struck you, and it unnerved him. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, knowing you deserved the truth—raw and unfiltered.

“It was a fight,” he finally admitted, his voice rough and jagged, like he was scraping it off the floor. “They threw me in detention, and some guy didn’t like that I was new. He decided he needed to make an example of me.”

There was a pause, thick with unspoken words, as he swallowed hard. It was easier to share the physical pain than the emotional weight he'd been carrying.

“But that’s not all,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “They made us go through these intense therapy sessions—group and individual. I had to face everything I’ve done, all the areas where I’ve messed up. It hurt like hell, but it was necessary. I realized just how much I’d hurt you… and how much I’ve hurt myself. I couldn’t keep running from my problems; they all caught up with me there.”

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining like they were made to fit together. He needed that connection, that anchor. “I know I can’t change the past. Believe me, I wish I could. But I’m determined to change the future. I want to be the man you deserve, the man I was always meant to be. I’m committed to my sobriety, to making things right, to being better—better for you, for us.”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right way to lay it all out. “And I need you. I need you like I need air. Without you, I’m lost. You’ve always been my anchor.”

His eyes searched yours, desperately seeking any sign of hope, any glimmer that could tell him you still believed in him. “I love you,” he confessed, the raw honesty crashing over him like a wave. “I love you more than words can ever say. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you give it to me, I swear I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

There was a moment of silence, the weight of everything he’d said hanging between you like a fragile thread, and he prayed it would hold.

"You kept my clothes?" Jacaerys repeated, the words sinking in slowly. His heart thudded against his ribs, a sudden rush of emotions sparking through him. The idea that you had held onto something so personal, a tangible piece of him, even after everything… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

You nodded silently, still looking through your closet.

"You must have cared more than you let on," he murmured, taking a tentative step towards you. "All this time, I thought… I thought you'd moved on, that I'd pushed you away for good…"

He watched as you rifled through your closet, searching for something for him to wear. The action was so mundane, yet it spoke volumes about the depth of your feelings. You were still taking care of him, even now, even after all the pain he'd caused.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he watched you pull out a shirt and boxers from the closet. "Thank you for keeping them… for keeping a piece of me."

He hesitated before adding, "And thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself. I won't let you down again."

As you handed him the shirt, Jacaerys took it with shaky hands, the fabric reminding him of happier times. He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a world of sorrow and hope. "I'll change in the bathroom," he said quietly.

"Wait," you blurted out, the words escaping before you could catch them. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realised what you had said. "I mean… you're dirty from your climb. You should take a bath."

You huffed, feeling the heat of his gaze linger just a little too long, making your heart race. It felt awkward after a long time apart. "Let me get it ready for you," you mumbled, slipping past him into the small bathroom that smelled faintly of lavender.

Inside, you turned on the hot water, listening to the comforting splash as it filled the tub. You grabbed a bag of vanilla-scented Epsom salts, letting the soft grains pour into the water. The sweet aroma enveloped you, mixing with the steam rising from the tub, and for a moment, the outside world faded away.

Leaning against the sink, you allowed your thoughts to drift to Jacaerys. He was so close, yet so far away, and the tension in the air was almost tangible. Despite your earlier awkwardness, warmth blossomed within you—this was the closest you’d been in months, sharing this quiet, intimate moment.

Jacaerys watched you retreat into the bathroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he processed your words. A bath… the intimacy of it wasn't lost on him. It was a gesture of care, of wanting to take care of him, even in such a small way.

He followed you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you prepare the bath. The scent of vanilla filled the air, soothing and comforting. It reminded him of lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in sheets, enjoying the warmth of your embrace.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice gentle. "I can manage on my own."

But even as he spoke the words, he knew he wanted you to stay. Wanted to feel your presence, your care, even if it was just in this simple act.

"Unless… unless you want to stay," he added quickly, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. "If you're comfortable with it, that is. I'd like that. Your company, I mean."

He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your gaze. "But only if you're okay with it," he added hastily. "No pressure or anything. I just… I miss being close to you, even like this."

The tub was nearly full, steam rising in delicate tendrils to caress your skin. Jacaerys watched you, his eyes dark with a mix of longing and uncertainty. The silence stretched between you.

You paused for a moment, letting his request sink in. Back when you two were wrapped up in each other, it would have been the most natural thing in the world to say yes—no hesitation, no second-guessing. But now, standing at the doorframe, he felt like a stranger, a different version of the man you once knew, his tired eyes revealing a world of unspoken guilt.

“Yeah,” you replied, choosing to listen to your heart instead of reason. You turned off the tap, and the sound of the water ceasing felt louder than it should. As you faced him fully, the steam from the bathroom curled around you like a ghost, making the space feel intimate yet daunting. You hadn’t even taken the first step to undress, but already, that familiar feeling of vulnerability washed over you like warm water. It was as if your skin was made of glass, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

He watched as you turned off the tap, the sudden silence punctuating the air. The steam from the bathwater created an almost ethereal atmosphere, the mist swirling around you like a protective shield. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the moment of hesitation that betrayed your true feelings. It made his heart ache, knowing that he had put that look there—the look of a person who had been hurt and was now wary of trusting again.

"You don't have to," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "If you're not comfortable, it's okay. Really. I can handle it on my own."

He took a step forward, reaching out to touch your arm gently. "I won't push you. I know I've done enough of that already. But if you do want to stay, if you want to be close, I'd like that. I'd like it more than you know."

He searched your face, looking for any sign of your true emotions. "We don't have to rush anything. We can take it slow. One step at a time. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Jacaerys realised that he was holding his breath, waiting for your response. He wanted to assure you, to make you feel safe and secure, but he also knew that words alone wouldn't be enough. Only actions could prove his sincerity, his commitment to being the man you deserved.

He offered you a small smile, that barely touched his eyes but held a world of hope.

"I want to… I'm just— I feel shy," you admitted softly, your gaze dropping to the floor. It felt strange to be so exposed in front of him after all this time, memories flooding back. The first time your bare forms had intertwined in the soft glow of the evening light, you had both whispered sweet nothings, the air thick with a blend of naiveness and excitement.

With a deep breath, you decided it was time to bridge that gap. As you reached down to untie your pyjama shorts, the fabric slipped away from your hips, pooling at your feet. The cool air made every nerve ending alive with anticipation. You stepped out of them, now standing only in your soft lace underwear and a white tank top that draped lightly over your figure.

You could feel the warmth of his gaze on you, a mix of admiration and something deeper, causing a flutter in your stomach. The room held a quiet intimacy, filled with the soft sounds of your breathing and the faint rustle of fabric as you moved. A smile crept onto your lips, remembering those moments of gentle exploration where every touch felt electric, and every word of praise hung in the air like a shared secret.

Jacaerys felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched you disrobe, the vulnerability of the moment seizing him. The sight of you, standing there in your lace undies and soft tank top, was almost too much to bear. Memories flooded back, images of your skin under his fingertips, the taste of your lips, the sound of your moans… he had to physically shake himself to keep from drowning in the past.

He took a step towards you, his gaze roaming over your form, drinking in every curve, every dip, every inch of you. A warmth spread through him, a longing so intense it bordered on pain. His hands ached to touch you, to feel your smooth skin beneath his fingertips, but he held himself back. This moment was about rebuilding trust, about showing you that he could be gentle, patient, and everything you needed.

Slowly, reverently, he reached out to trail a finger along your collarbone, marvelling at the softness of your skin. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice husky. "Always have been, always will be."

He looked into your eyes, his own dark with desire and something deeper, something that spoke of love and yearning and a desperate need to make things right. "Thank you," he whispered, his finger tracing a gentle path down to your shoulder.

There was a moment of silence, heavy with tension and possibility. The air between you felt charged, electric, like a live wire ready to spark at the slightest touch. Jacaerys held his breath, waiting for you to make the next move, wanting to follow your lead, to show you that he respected your comfort and your desires.

The room suddenly felt too small, too intimate. It was full of nostalgia and anticipation, a bittersweet cocktail that left him dizzy with want and need and a desperate, aching hope.

Hesitantly at first, and slowly, you leaned in, feeling the warmth radiating off him. Your heart raced as you captured his lips in a soft kiss, the world around you fading into a gentle blur. Your lips moved together, soft and lingering, as a spark ignited between you. You felt his hair, silky and slightly tousled, slipping between your fingers as you tangled your hands in it, drawing him closer. The weight of his body against yours sent a thrill through you, the two of you fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

Jacaerys' heart raced as he felt your lips against his, the warmth of your breath mingling with his own. The kiss was soft, gentle, a perfect reflection of the moment—fragile and new, yet filled with the promise of something more. It was a kiss that whispered of hope and possibility, of a future where maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

His hands found your waist, fingers splaying across your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. He pulled you closer, wanting to erase the distance between you, to feel your body flush against his. It was a need that went beyond the physical, a desperate longing to reconnect, to find that missing piece of himself that had always fit so perfectly with you.

After what felt like an eternity, you reluctantly pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, those deep pools reflecting a mixture of warmth and curiosity. “The bath will get cold soon,” you said softly, a playful smile tugging at your lips while your fingers brushed through his curls, enjoying the way they curled around your fingertips.

He was breathless, his eyes dark with desire and something that spoke of love and longing and a fierce protectiveness. He watched as you smiled, your fingers brushing through his curls, and he couldn't help but lean into your touch.

At the mention of the bath, he chuckled softly, his hand sliding down to find yours, intertwining your fingers together. "You're right," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We should… we should get in before it gets cold."

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching your face, looking for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. When he found none, he took a deep breath and nodded, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Together?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy with meaning and possibility.

"Do you want to?" you asked in a timid voice, your heart racing as you braced yourself for the possibility of rejection. The gentle press of his lips against yours had reignited feelings you thought you had buried deep within yourself, and the warmth of his touch reminded you of everything you had been trying to suppress for far too long.

You had already taken off your shorts, the fabric pooling around your feet, thinking that he’d want nothing more than to be close to you in this intimate moment. Yet, now, standing before him in just your shirt and underwear, your heart thudded harder with uncertainty. His eyes searched yours, and you could feel the weight of the question lingering in the air, casting a shadow of nervousness over your excitement.

You couldn't help but feel a bit silly, second-guessing yourself, even though every part of you craved to close that distance and dive into the warmth of his embrace.

Jacaerys' heart clenched at the wavering in your voice, the hesitation that coloured your words. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the way you were bracing yourself for rejection, and it made him want to pull you close, to hold you close and never let go.

"Yes," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip. "I want to be close to you. In every way possible."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing as he savoured the moment. "I know I've hurt you," he whispered, his breath mingling with yours.

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers skimming over your ribs, your waist, until they came to rest on your shoulders. He gazed into your eyes, his own dark with desire and something deeper, something that spoke of love and longing and a desperate need to make things right.

"I want to be with you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "In the bath, in bed, wherever you'll have me. I just… I need to be close to you. I need to feel you, touch you, love you."

The sincerity in his voice was palpable, the honesty in his eyes unwavering. He was giving you control, putting your comfort and your desires first. It was a stark contrast to the man he had been before, and it made your heart ache with the knowledge that he had changed, that he was trying to be better.

The room felt charged with tension. The steam from the bath wafted around you both, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere. The soft glow of the bathroom light cast a warm, gentle light over your skin, making you feel frail and vulnerable.

You just nodded in response. No need for words with unspoken understanding. Your fingers danced softly down to the hem of his shirt, tugging it, hinting for him to take it off. A little smirk threatened to slip out as you remembered all the times you had been here before.

Jacaerys wasted no time, flipping his shirt off with an urgency that made you chuckle. There was something so endearing about the way he was always so eager. You turned your back to him, pulling your tank top off slowly, fully aware that you were teasing him. The air felt cold against your skin, but the warmth of his gaze surrounded you.

When you spun back around, you caught him standing there, completely captivated. He was like a painting of desire, his eyes wide and filled with admiration as he took in the sight of you. Without thinking, he hurriedly worked at his belt, the metal buckle clinking softly in the quiet room. His jeans dropped to the floor, leaving him standing there in nothing but his boxers, his erection straining against the fabric.

He stepped towards you, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."

His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. He walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bathtub, his hands sliding down your sides, your hips, your thighs.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I need you," he rasped, his eyes dark with desire. "I need to be inside you, to feel you."

His hands slid down to your hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, seeking permission. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

When you nodded, his hands hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs, his fingers trailing over your skin as he went, your breath hitching. He stepped back, his gaze raking over your naked form, his cock throbbing in response.

"Get in the bath," he commanded softly, his voice thick with need. "I'll join you in a minute."

He turned away, giving you a moment of privacy as he quickly shed his boxers. When he turned back around, he was completely naked, his erection jutting proudly from his hips. You bite back a grin upon seeing the effect you still had on him.

He stepped into the bath, the warm water enveloping him like a blanket. He leaned back against the tub, pulling you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into his embrace, enjoying having him close yet again. His pale torso is marred with purple and green bruises, but they didn't hurt, not when he was with you anyway.

Carefully, you turn your head to face him, littering his neck in soft kisses and bites, soothing them with your tongue. His skin tastes salty, filling your senses. You press yourself against him tighter, your breasts flattening against his chest, nipples hardening in the cool air. His hands slide over your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I missed this," you murmur, your lips brushing against his ear. "Missed being close to you."

Jacaerys groaned softly as your lips found his neck, your teeth grazing his skin. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, his cock twitching against your back. He tilted his head to the side, giving you better access, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

"I missed this too," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "Missed holding you, touching you, tasting you."

He rolled his hips, grinding his hard length against your ass, the water sloshing around you both. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly, his cock nestling between your legs, the head brushing against your clit.

The sensation made your core tighten, your inner walls clenching around nothing, a silent moan escaping your parted lips. You could feel the heat of him. Your breath hitched, your heart racing as he teased you, his cock rubbing against your most sensitive spot.

"Jacaerys," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please…"

"I want you," he growled, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Want to be inside you, want to make you scream my name."

His hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your slick folds, stroking you slowly, teasingly. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "So ready for me."

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against your lips, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

His fingers toyed with your clit, rubbing slow circles around the sensitive nub. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of his touch. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Ride my fingers. Get yourself ready for my cock."

He continued to rub your clit, his other hand sliding down to tease your entrance. He circled your opening with his finger, gathering the wetness that had gathered there. "Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, pushing one finger inside you, then two. He pumped them in and out, curling them to hit that special spot inside you.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a moan escaping your lips as he worked you open for him. Fuck, no one had touched you like this in months. Not after him. And your fingers never felt this good.

You were already embarrassingly close to the edge, his fingers making you mad with pleasure. "Oh, fuck, just like that," you whimpered, eyes screwing shut.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl. You could feel the pressure building, your thighs trembling, your core tightening around his digits.

Jacaerys groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers, your moans filling the steamy bathroom. He could tell you were close, your body trembling with need. He wanted to push you over the edge, to make you come undone in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he rasped, his fingers pumping faster, harder. "Come for me. Let go."

His other hand slid up to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations were too much, and with a cry of his name, you came, your gummy walls clamping down around his fingers, your juices coating his hand.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. "Fuck, you're so beautiful when you come," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck.

As you started to come down from your high, he slowly withdrew his fingers from your dripping core. He brought them to his lips, sucking your essence from his digits, his eyes locked on yours. "Delicious," he purred, his voice low.

He turned you around in his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. His cock was hard and heavy against your stomach, the head leaking pre-cum. "I need to be inside you," he growled, his hands gripping your hips. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."

He reached between your bodies, grasping his shaft and lining it up with your entrance. You bit your lip as you felt his blunt tip breaching your tight heat, thighs trembling with anticipation.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Jacaerys pushed forward, his thick cock stretching you open, filling you inch by delicious inch. You gasped at the intrusion, your walls fluttering around him, adjusting to his size. He groaned at the sensation, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck, you feel so good," he rasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "So tight, so perfect."

He held himself still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Jacaerys pushed his thick cock deeper inside you. "Ahh, fuck!" you whined, your lips quivering with pleasure. You even couldn't wait for him to move, your hips starting to roll impatiently over his shaft.

"You feel so good, Jace," you mumbled, your mind going blank as you focused solely on the sensation of him stretching you open. "So big in me." You started bouncing on his cock, needing to feel more of him, to be ruined by him.

The water sloshed around you as you rode him, some of it spilling onto the bathroom floor. But you didn't care, lost in the feeling of him filling you, satisfying me. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Jacaerys groaned as you started to bounce on his cock, your tight heat engulfing him, squeezing him tight. "Fuck," he growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "You feel so fucking good."

He thrust up to meet your movements, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into your welcoming heat. The water splashed around you both, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his voice raspy with desire. "Ride my cock. Take what you need."

His hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. He pinched and rolled the sensitive buds between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you chased your release. "Jace," you moaned, your voice high and needy. "Please, I need… I need…"

"Yeah? Use your words, baby," he rasped, his hips pistoning upwards, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

You couldn't believe how incredible it felt to have Jacaerys' thick cock stretching your tight, wet pussy again. He filled you up so perfectly, hitting all the right spots deep inside. Each powerful thrust made your toes curl, your walls clenching around his shaft.

"Oh fuck, Jace!" You cried out, your nails raking down his back. "Your cock feels so fucking good inside me! Don't stop!"

You rode him hard and fast, your tits bouncing with each movement. The obscene sounds of pleasure and water splattering on the floor echoed off the bathroom tiles. You could feel your orgasm building, your clit throbbing with need.

"Mmm yeah, just like that," you moaned, grinding your hips down.

You threw your head back, your hair flying as you lost yourself in the intense pleasure.

Jacaerys groaned as you rode him harder, your tight pussy gripping his cock like a vice. "Fuck," he grunted, his hips snapping up to meet your downward thrusts. "My pretty girl," Jace groaned possessively.

He leaned forward, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive bud. His hands gripped your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he helped guide your movements, urging you to take him deeper.

"That's it, baby," he growled against your skin, his voice muffled by your breast.

Jacaerys felt like he was losing his mind with pleasure, your tight cunt squeezing his cock so perfectly. He wanted to fuck you forever, to never stop feeling you wrapped around him.

"Fuck, your pussy feels like heaven," he groaned, his hips slamming up to meet yours. "So fucking tight and wet for me. You love my cock, don't you? Love feeling me stretch you open?"

"Yes!" You cry out, your voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. "I love your cock so fucking much!"

Your hips move wildly on top of him, your cunt clenching around his thick shaft. It's like your body remembers him, remembers how perfectly he fills you up. You missed this so much, missed the way he makes you feel, the way he touches you like he owns me. Cause, after all, he was made for you and you for him.

You look down at him, your eyes glazed over with pleasure, your lips parted in a silent moan. "Fuck, Jace," you pant, your nails pressing into his shoulders. "Your cock is stretching me so good. I'm so fucking close."

Jacaerys groaned at your words, his cock throbbing inside you, the tight heat of your pussy driving him wild. "Fuck," he growled, his hips slamming up to meet yours, driving his cock deep inside you. "You take my cock so well, baby. Like you were made for me."

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, urging you to ride him harder, faster.

"I love feeling you wrapped around me," he rasped against your lips. "Love knowing that I'm the only one who gets to make you feel this good."

His release was building, his balls tightening, his cock pulsing inside you. He was close, so fucking close. But he held back, wanting to feel you come first, wanting to give you the pleasure you deserved,  wanting to feel your pussy clenching around him as you screamed his name.

Jacaerys' mind was consumed with lust, his thoughts swirling with filthy images of you. He imagined bending you over the bathroom counter, fucking you from behind as he watched your ass bounce with each thrust. He pictured you on your knees, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as he fed you his length, your eyes watering as he hit the back of your throat.

He wanted to mark you, to claim you as his own. He wanted to leave his fingerprints on your hips, bite marks on your neck, proof that you belonged to him and him alone.

You could feel your second release approaching, your velvety walls spasming wildly around his thick shaft, your hips bucking against his. "I'm so close," you whined in a high-pitched voice, your head falling forward as you lost yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

Your mind was consumed with lust, your thoughts swirling with filthy images of Jacaerys. You imagined him pounding into you harder, faster, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. You pictured him flipping you over, taking you from behind, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he claimed you, marking you as his own.

You wanted to feel him everywhere, to be filled by him completely. You craved the sensation of his hot seed spilling inside you, marking you, claiming you. You wanted to be his, body and soul, to belong to him in every way possible.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines in their wake as you urged him on, desperate for more, for everything he had to give. "Please, Jace," you begged, your voice ragged with need. "Make me cum. I need it. I need you."

Jacaerys groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock, your walls fluttering and spasming as you neared your release. "That's it, baby," he growled, his hips slamming up to meet yours, driving his cock deep inside you. "Cum for me. Cum on my fucking cock."

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you rode him harder, faster. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, urging you to take him deeper, to milk his cock for all it was worth.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he rasped against your lips, his voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking perfect."

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice rough with lust. "Show me how much you love being fucked by me."

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles. The added stimulation was all it took to push you over the edge, your pussy clamping down around his cock as you came, your juices gushing out around his shaft.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt you come undone. "That's my girl. My perfect, beautiful girl."

He thrust into you a few more times, chasing his release, before burying himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his seed. He held you close, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your neck as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice soft and tender. "I love you so fucking much."

"A-ahh," you let out a broken sob as your orgasm crashed over you, your body going limp on top of Jacaerys. Your hips twitched involuntarily, moving on their own as the last waves of pleasure washed through you.

You collapsed against his toned chest, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, and your skin was slick with sweat and water. You felt boneless, completely spent like all the tension and stress had been fucked out of you.

Jacaerys' arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you came down from your high. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and strong. You wanted to stay like this forever, lost in the afterglow, safe in his embrace.

But even as you basked in the warmth of his love, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this was all too good to be true. That at any moment, it would all come crashing down, leaving you broken and alone once again.

You pushed the thought away, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment. For now, you would let yourself believe in the fairytale, in the promise of happily ever after.

"I love you," you murmured against his skin, your voice raspy and raw. "I love you so much, Jacaerys."

And for a brief, shining moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, this time it would be different. That this time, your love would be enough.

Jacaerys held you close as you came down from your high, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. He could feel the way your heart raced beneath his fingertips, the way your breath hitched as he brushed his lips against your temple.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "More than anything in this world."

He knew that you had your doubts, that you were afraid of getting hurt again. But he wanted to prove to you that this was different, that what you had was real and lasting.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "Hey," he said gently, his eyes searching yours. "Look at me."

When you met his gaze, he smiled, his heart swelling with love and affection. "I know you're scared," he said softly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "But I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay, for as long as you'll have me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks, before finally capturing your lips in a tender, loving kiss. He poured all of his emotions into the kiss, all of his love and devotion, hoping that you could feel it, could understand the depth of his feelings for you.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he savoured the moment. "I know it's not going to be easy," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work, to make us work."

He opened his eyes, gazing into yours with a fierce intensity. "I love you," he said again, his voice filled with conviction. "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes."

Hearing his words made your heart soar, and without thinking, you pulled him into a passionate kiss. It was wet and messy, a beautiful chaos where both of you poured every ounce of emotion into that moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently at the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin. When you finally pulled back, breathless gasps filled the air, and your pupils dilated in the soft glow of the surroundings.

“Jace,” you murmured, nuzzling your nose against his, your foreheads resting together. Your breaths intertwined, creating a rhythm that matched the quickening of your hearts, each inhale and exhale echoing the sweetness of the moment. You brushed your thumb delicately over his cheek, tracing the outline of his bruise—a reminder of the fights. “I won’t let this happen to you again. Like I said… I have a bat,” you chuckled, the playful glint in your eyes as you placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

But then an uncomfortable sting shot through your knees and thighs from being in the same position for too long. Your fingers looked like raisins from the long 'bath', pruney and wrinkled, but somehow, even that felt amusing in the warmth of the moment. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing that no matter the discomfort, you’d choose him every time.

Jacaerys chuckled at your joke, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I'll hold you to that," he teased, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back. "My own personal bodyguard."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of you, the feel of your skin against his. When he pulled back, he noticed the discomfort on your face, the way you shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in your knees and thighs.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice gentle and caring. "Let's get you out of this tub before you turn into a prune."

He stood up slowly, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop, a trail of your combined fluids following in its wake. He reached down, his hands strong and sure as he lifted you effortlessly from the tub, water cascading off your skin.

You let out a soft gasp as Jacaerys slipped out of you, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure you had just shared. He gave you a cocky smirk, clearly pleased with himself, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully.

"Show off," you teased, but there was no real bite to your words. You were too content, too happy to be in his arms again.

He wrapped a fluffy towel around your shoulders, and another around your waist, before grabbing one for himself. He dried you off gently, his touch tender and loving, taking his time to make sure every inch of your skin was dry.

Once you were both dry, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom.

You yelped in surprise when he suddenly scooped you up, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you to the bedroom. You laughed softly, the sound light and carefree, as he laid you down on the bed, crawling in beside you, pulling you close to his chest.

It was like he had never left, like no time had passed at all. He knew exactly where everything was like he had never left. It warmed your heart and made you feel safe and loved in a way you hadn't felt in a long time.

You went and grabbed fresh underwear from the cupboard, slipping it on as Jacaerys picked up the clothes you had given him from the bed. For a moment, you moved in silence, comfortable in each other's presence, content just to be near each other.

Jacaerys watched as you slipped into your underwear, his eyes roaming over your body appreciatively. He could feel his cock stirring to life again, but he pushed the thought aside, knowing that you needed time to recover.

He picked up his clothes from the bed, slipping into them slowly, savouring the feeling of being in your space again. It felt like coming home like everything was exactly as it should be.

As he slipped on his shirt, he caught sight of you in the mirror, your reflection soft and beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom. He felt a surge of love and possessiveness, a primal urge to claim you, to mark you as his own.

But he pushed the thought aside, knowing that you needed gentleness and patience. He would give you all the time you needed to heal, to trust again.

He turned to face you, a soft smile on his face. "What do you want to do now?" he asked, his voice gentle. "We could order some food, watch a movie, or just talk. Whatever you want, baby. I'm here for you."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take your hand in his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his touch warm and comforting.

"Or," he added, a playful spark in his eye, "we could pick up where we left off in the bathroom. I'm not tired yet."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a playful smirk on his face. He knew you were sore, knew that you probably needed time to recover, but he couldn't resist teasing you a little.

"But seriously," he said, his voice softening, "whatever you want. I'm here for you. Always."

You smirked, poking your cheek with your tongue playfully. Then, in a flash, you lunged at Jacaerys, tackling him onto the bed. You landed on top of him, straddling his hips as he let out a surprised grunt.

"Well," you purred, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you leaned down, your hair falling around your head. "A movie and food does sound pretty good, doesn't it?"

You could feel his cock hardening beneath you, pressing against your core through the thin fabric of your underwear. The knowledge that you could still affect him so easily sent a thrill through you.

Jacaerys let out a surprised grunt as you tackled him onto the bed, your body landing on top of his. He grinned up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you straddling his hips.

"A movie and food, huh?" he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs, his fingers toying with the hem of your underwear. "I think I can arrange that."

He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "But first," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "I think I need a little appetiser."

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

[starmocha]

I don't normally share active wips, but since I mentioned in a previous post how Lost Oasis has a scene similar to one I had written in a wip I've been working on, I've decided to share it. I may scrap it or I may rework it to align more with the canon material.

This wip is basically an intimate (emotional and sexual) Sylus/Reader sexy domestic slice of life fluff, because I have needs. Really bad needs. 🥺👉👈

The scent of your peach body wash had become more familiar each night, the sweet fragrance clung to Sylus’ body after every shower when he would climb into bed with you. Your hands traversed his bare torso, gliding over smooth skin as you furrowed your brows. “Like what you see?” he teased, but when you didn’t react, Sylus reached out, lifting your chin to meet his concerned gaze. “What’s wrong?” “You don’t have any scars,” you murmured, your hands still skimming over his body in examination. “You sound disappointed,” Sylus quipped with a deep chuckle, but he paused almost immediately when you looked up, staring at him with a worried expression. He was quiet briefly before speaking more seriously, “A benefit of my Evol, if you will.” “Then…how many times have you been injured?” “Does it matter?” he looked at you with a gentle smile, reaching out to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear. You appreciated the affectionate gesture, but it didn’t mask the fact that he was pointedly ignoring your question. You nodded firmly, refusing to let this conversation end. Sylus looked conflicted. “It’s a good thing you can’t see any scars,” he insisted. You touched his bicep. “Were you injured here?” He sighed, and nodded. “Yes.” You looked frantically around his body before your hand randomly touched his right shoulder. “Here?” “Yes.” Your mind continued to race with increasing anxious thoughts. You touched his thigh. Sylus nodded. You reached up and touched his chest, your hand near his heart. You paused, your face paling, already knowing the answer to this one. It had all happened so quickly, and even now you could still feel your finger pulling that trigger. Sylus grabbed your wrist, pulling away. “Don’t think about it,” he said firmly, “I did it.” “But…” His hands held your face, pulling you to him, capturing your lips to swallow your words. You felt like you were choking, his kisses suffocating you as your mind was in turmoil from both the guilt of what you did and the painful knowledge of never knowing how often he was injured or how severe they were. Sylus broke the kiss when he felt you sobbing against him. He looked at you with concern, not understanding what had led the two of you to this point. Instinctively, he pulled you into his lap, surprised when you lay against him almost instantly, your arms wrapped around his body, cheek pressed against his chest. He could feel the trembles in your body, knowing you were barely keeping your emotions in check. “I’m not hurt,” he said, fingers already threading through your hair as comfort. “I know,” you whispered back, tightening your hold around him. You could barely keep your voice steady, afraid that just one wrong word could break this dam and unleash all of the tears you were holding back. “But,” he started, peering down at the top of your head, “this is nice.” You looked up curiously, meeting his soft crimson gaze. He leaned down, his warm breath ghosted over your lips, making you shiver even more in his embrace. “Having you worried about me,” he said, elaborating further, “Caring about me.” Sylus drew your lips to his again, this time gentler, more tender. You responded, hearing a pleased hum from him as his hands moved down your body. “Sylus—” He guided your hands back to his body. “I just hate to see you cry over me, sweetheart.” You blinked back your tears. [INSERT EMOTIONAL COMFORT SEX SCENE I HAVEN’T WRITTEN YET LMAO]

[literatooru]

𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: gn!reader x nanami kento

note: check out my masterlist for part 2!

“I’ve been thinking,” Nanami says suddenly.

His voice is quiet but it still manages to startle you a little. You look up from the cutting board to glance at him as you give a soft hum to indicate you’re listening.

“I could tell.” You focus back on the matter at hand, the only sound filling the kitchen being that of the knife hitting the wood. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him place the peeler on the counter and rest his hip on the edge, arms crossed over his chest and head slightly tilted to the side as he examines your face.

“You could?”

“Yeah. You keep doing the… frowning thing,” you mutter, gathering some of the carrot cubes and tossing them in a bowl before continuing with the rest. 

“The ‘frowning thing’,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” you say again. “You know, I’ve heard your face might get stuck like that if you keep it up.” Nanami gives a soft laugh accompanied by a shake of his head, and he sighs as his hands move up to interlock behind his neck. “Also, that’s three sighs in a row. So, tell me, Kento. What’s keeping you up at night?”

“You,” he murmurs.

Your hands don’t cease their chopping even when your head snaps up to narrow your eyes at him, a reproachful look on your face.

“Okay, I did not hear any complaints last night when we were—”

“First of all, don’t take your eyes off the knife when you’re using it,” he says just as his hand shoots down to rest on top of yours to stop its movements. “It’s dangerous. And I didn’t mean that, I meant… us. This.” He gestures at the space between your two bodies.

You jut your bottom lip out in a pout Kento thinks is the cutest thing ever, and he has the sudden urge to kiss it away. He doesn’t.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask, your voice dropping to a whisper right when you feel the anxious knot in your stomach starting to form.

“No,” he says reassuringly. When you still refrain from looking at him, he takes a step closer and takes your chin between his index and thumb to turn your face to him. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. Quite the opposite.”

“Well, the way you’re saying it is making me think that maybe you want to—”

“Get married?” he interrupts you. Your lips part in surprise and you blink twice, three times while gathering your thoughts. “Because that’s what I was thinking.”

Get married? Kento wants to marry you? It’s a little shocking, to be honest. Despite having dated for years, Kento and you have never talked about the future, really. At least, not that kind of future. Does he mean it? What about everything else? His job?

“You want to get married,” you say, and it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. If… that’s what you wan too,” he replies, and there’s a little hesitance on his face. 

Nanami’s hand starts to withdraw, and your hand shoots up to clasp his wrist. He looks confused, embarrassed, and a little hurt, all in equal parts. Don’t you want the same? He was pretty sure you did. Did he read everything wrong?

“I want to. God, you have no idea of how much I want to,” you whisper with a nervous laugh. You’re totally not about to cry. Sure, this isn’t a proposal, but it’s really damn close to being one. “But what about… you know?”

“I’m quitting,” he says. Kento’s answer is simple and resolute. He understands he can’t really have both you and his current job, if anything for the sake of your peace of mind. There’s nothing more terrifying than kissing him goodbye without knowing if it’ll be the last time you see him. “I’m done with being a sorcerer. This time for good.”

Sure, being a sorcerer sucked a little less than his previous job, and at least he could help people. If Nanami has to give it up to be with you though; really be with you — he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

“Are you sure?”

He smiles and leans forward to place a tender kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips leaving your skin tingling even when they’re not on it anymore.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. My future is with you.”

You laugh softly, relief flooding your body. You won’t have to worry about his safety ever again. You sigh as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, his arms automatically wrapping around your waist to pull you as close as possible.

“I love you, Nanamin,” you whisper, your warm breath tickling the skin of his neck.

Kento gives a small huff, although a smile eventually makes its way onto his face. He takes a deep breath, instantly relaxing when your scent fills his senses, and his arms tighten around your body a little more.

“I love you, angel.” He pulls back to look at you, then leans down to place a kiss on your lips, then on your cheek, and then on your nose. “I’ll do it after Shibuya. I won’t leave you alone ever again.”

[daisynik7]

the scowl nanami had in the trailer reminded me of the safeword audio, it’s definitely his reaction when finds out you’ve been touching yourself without his permission 😩

Anon, you are SO RIGHT, and for that, I wrote a little something. In case anyone is curious, THIS is the audio anon is referring to (reddit link, 18+). It is SO GOOD. It actually gets so tender and sweet at the end, but I did not recreate that for this little piece LOL. Anyways, ily anon for your brilliant brain. I love the idea of getting caught in the act, I am SO here for it. Also, I’m going feral over mean!Nanami. This is barely edited or proofread. This is a result of my carnal desires for him taking over my fingers without a care in the world. I’m throwing feminism out the window temporarily for this, sorry ancestors. MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

You’re well into your third climax of the night, the vibrator buzzing on the lowest setting on your swollen clit, the exquisite sensations resonating down to the tips of your toes. You’re so sensitive now, basically mush puddled in the sheets, skin damp with sweat, arousal smeared over your loins. There’s nothing playing in the background; no porn, no nsfw audios, not even a dirty picture displayed on your phone screen. All that you have to get you off is the memory of Nanami railing you into the mattress, the same one you’re currently drenched in your slick, pumping his cock in and out of your wet cunt. That’s all you need to get your pussy throbbing, skin prickling, belly fluttering. 

He's not home yet, still out on a mission with Gojo, doing what he does best: protecting people. Is it unfair that he has to work this hard, risking his life, while you’re twisting in the bedsheets, squirming with pleasure from a handheld toy? Maybe not. But what’s the harm in a little mindless release? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

Your eyes are shut tight as you descend from your high, vibrator shut off and teetering loosely in your hand, satiated and spent from tonight’s activities. You could fall asleep this instant, but there’s so much to clean up, all the evidence of your naughty deed that you don’t want your husband to discover without explanation. As you’re about to rise up out of bed, you hear the familiar jangle of keys unlocking the front door. Startled, and still a slippery mess, you quickly wipe off the toy, shoving it beneath the pillow. It’s not quick enough because just as you look up, Nanami is already standing at the doorframe of your bedroom, scowling. 

Like a bit from a comedy movie, you twiddle your fingers innocently, completely naked and exposed on the bed. “Hi honey,” you greet, slowly pulling the covers over your body. You smile at him, acting like he hasn’t already caught you in the act. He doesn’t respond, expression serious. Dangerous.

Heat rushes into your cheeks, increasingly nervous by his lack of reaction. “Kento, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, sauntering towards you. “You tell me,” he mutters, sitting at the edge of the bed, studying you carefully. 

You swallow loudly, mouth coated in your saliva. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh?” It sounds like he’s teasing you. Toying with you. You shudder with anticipation as he reaches over, hand slipping under the pillow, retrieving your vibrator. He waves it at you. “What’s this, then?”

Another noisy gulp before you answer, “My vibrator.”

His eyes narrow, his free hand tugging the blanket off you slowly, inspecting your body from your face, chest, then between your legs, squeezed together, hiding your arousal. “What were you doing while I was away?” he asks, resting his hands on your knees, spreading you apart. “Were you being a bad girl?” 

There’s no need for a verbal answer, because as soon as his eyes fixate on your aching pussy, he already knows. “So, you have been a bad girl. Look at you, all wet and swollen already.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly as you hide your embarrassed face behind your hand, barely peeking at him between your fingers. “You didn’t even have the decency to clean up.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, limbs trembling, yearning for him to touch you. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he repeats, mocking you. “You fuck yourself while I’m working and all you can say is sorry?”

“I – ”, you choke on your own spit, rendering you speechless. 

“It seems that you forgot, so let me remind you one last time: This is my pussy. Not yours. Mine. You don’t get to play with it without my permission.” He sighs, hands sliding languidly down your thighs, prodding at the tender skin. “Such a dirty girl. What am I going to do with you?”

You moan, longing to feel his fingers, his cock, anything inside you. “Baby, please.”

He licks his lips, hungry eyes focused on your sopping cunt. “I guess it’s my job to clean up this mess.” He leans forward, tongue lapping at your sensitive bud, swirling circles around it, puckering his lips to suck. “Such a slutty pussy. So sloppy and wet for me.”

You squirm above him, pleasure stimulating your every nerve. “Fuck!” you cry out, lost in the ecstasy. 

His low chuckle vibrates against your clit, pinched between his lips. “How many times did you come from this toy? Once? Twice?”

You grip his hair between your fingers, shoving his face deeper. “Three times!” you stutter.

“And you’re still so fucking horny for me, huh?” He slides his tongue up and down your folds, collecting your slick on his tongue, drinking you up. “I’m going to have to do better than that toy then for you to learn your lesson.”

The need to be used and manhandled by him overtakes you. It doesn’t matter how much you touched yourself earlier. All you can think about is how much you need to be touched by him. How badly you need his cock inside you. How insanely desperate you are for his cum to fill you up. 

So you take it. Every lick, every suck, his fingers inside you, curled and hitting that sweet spot that only he can reach. His cock bullying you into submission, body weak and pliant from overstimulation, yielding to his every thrust like his own personal cock sleeve. All the while, he moans into your ear, constantly muttering the same reminder to you. 

“This is my pussy. All fucking mine.”

[slasherscream]

Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. killing the reader’s rapist

warnings: yandere behavior, subject matter is rape/sexual assault, gore warning in some parts - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

TIFFANY VALENTINE:

Tiffany knows something happened to you. Call it woman's intuition. Maybe just call it true love. Or obsession. Whatever it is she can sense a hole in you. A gaping pit of misery that you try and hide. Try and fight against.

Tiffany tries to help, when you let her. Most of the time you don't. Instead of admitting to being so depressed you can’t move or eat, you'll feign physical illness. You pretend you're crying because some part of your body hurts. Tiffany knows better. Knows it’s something in your soul itself. Aching. 

Tiffany let's it go on for as long as she can stomach it. The relationship was still so new. You'd just moved in together. Just finished pulling your separate lives into one. Picking out the throw pillows, what color to paint the walls. Argued playfully over bedding and mattress firmness. Is it too early to push? 

She watches you at the breakfast table, on the really bad days, eating mechanically, no joy in your movement or behind your eyes. She doesn't want there to be anything between you. Any secrets. Any distance. If you're hurting she wants you to lean on her. To need her as much as she needs you. To know she’ll catch you, no matter what it is she’ll catch you. It’s enough to leave her in tears every time you put on that awful fake smile. 

She wakes one night, blinking into the darkness. For a moment, she's not sure what woke her. Moonlight streams in from the window. The sound of the fan whirring across the room. Her eyes begin to drift shut again when she hears a muffled sob come from the bathroom. Her hand falls to your side of the bed, instinctively. She closes her eyes when she realizes how cold your side has gone. How long ago did you wake up? How quickly did you decide to crawl from bed and hide from her again? Always hiding. 

It's too much, now. You crying alone in the bathroom in the middle of the night is too much. She throws open the door and takes you into her arms, cooing softly, own eyes watering at the way you go limp against her so quickly. Here she'd been trying to give you space and what you needed was her affection, her tenderness, the whole time.

"What's wrong, huh, baby-doll? You gonna tell your Tiffany what's wrong now? Please?" She whispers against your hair, kissing the crown of your head.

You haven't said the words out loud in so long but you're tired of fighting the demons, and the nightmares, and the misery, all on your own. You've held it in so tightly since you met her. As if you'd taint her just by saying the words. But you love her, and you just want to stop hiding.

When you tell her she goes still. For just a second. Her arms tighten around you like a vice. She begins to rock you gently, cooing reassurances in your ear. She tells you to let everything out and you do. Now that you know she’ll still love you. That she’ll still be here for the aftermath. You can’t stop yourself.

By the end you feel exorcized. Alive. Softened and made new by the level of tenderness Tiffany had shown you. She gathers you from the floor of the bathroom, wipes both of your tears away and kisses you gently. She tucks you back into bed and asks only one more question: 

“What was their name again, sugar bear?” You don’t hesitate to tell her. It warms her heart the way you curl into her side without anymore hesitation. The space between you gone now. 

You sleep deeply that night. You wake up to an empty bed and are surprised. Usually, no matter how late you sleep in Tiffany is still wrapped around you. Just as much a night owl as you, early mornings are rare.  

You pass by the laundry room, notice that the washer and dryer are both going. You thought you did all the laundry a few days ago. You peek into the washer and notice how red the water is. Tiffany must have been attacked by the creative spirit, gotten messy using some paint. 

You hope she didn’t use acrylics this time, the stains never come out. 

You walk through the house calling for your girlfriend. No answer. You step out onto the back porch and there she is. Bathed in the early afternoon sun. Your whole body relaxes when you see her in the garden, bent over, planting a whole new row of flowers. She’s absolutely covered in dirt. You smile, feeling happier than you have in ages. You rush out to join her in the sunlight and throw your arms around her. 

“I love you, Tiff.” You cover her face in kisses, ignoring the dirt.

“I love you too, baby-doll. I love you more than anything.” Tiffany kisses you back, sweet and passionate. Playfully, she spins you to lay beneath her and revels in the sound of your carefree, shrill laughter. 

She hopes they can hear you, just barely, through the layers of dirt she buried them in. With their last breath she hopes they hear your laughter and realize they didn’t break you. 

JORDAN LI:

You weren’t answering your phone. Not their calls. Not their texts. It was enough to have them shrugging on their jacket and stomping out of their dorm into the cool night air.

They’d had a bad feeling about letting you go out alone tonight. You always partied together. Usually with Jordan’s friends, who had become yours. Jordan hated the old group you used to run with. Disloyal. Stupid. Selfish. Now she wishes you’d at least taken one of those fake groupies. At least then you wouldn’t be alone. 

She walks through the party, a brick wall, shoving people aside as she calls your name. Anxiety prickles the skin at the back of her neck. She jogs up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She throws open door after door, music from the party too loud to even fucking think. 

Jordan’s angrier by the second, wondering if something happened to you. She hopes you just lost your phone. If someone stole it she’ll break their fucking jaw. 

The last door in the hallway, she sees two bodies on the floor, one moving against the other in the dim light. She rolls her eyes about to slam the door shut and go look for you in the kitchen again. As she goes to close the door she stops dead when she hears a whimper from the floor. The tiniest noise of pain, a drowsy “stop”. The scene looks different now.

She steps into the room, forgetting about you for one second, heart pounding in her ears. Jordan pulls the person on top off by their hair, hard enough to hurt. When she sees it’s Rufus she let’s out a laugh of anger and blasts him across the room with her power. Hard enough that he leaves a dent in the wall. 

Jordan turns to the person on the ground, hoping the short distance between them and Rufus will make his fucking pheromone bullshit wear off. 

“Are you-” Her blood stops. It’s you, on the floor. Your outfit torn and ripped. Tears are running down your cheeks but your eyes still have that drugged shimmer that might as well be that walking roofie’s calling card. 

“Jordan?” You mumble from the floor, dazed and confused. 

Rufus makes a sound from across the room, getting to his feet. Jordan stops breathing as she turns. They make eye contact. Fear in one pair. Anger so strong it’s inhuman, in the other.

Jordan’s across the room in an instant. Her fist breaks his jaw with the first blow. Everything after that is a blur. She comes back to herself when she feels a stabbing pain shoot through her fist and she pulls her hand away with a hiss. Bone fragment cutting into her hand. 

The haze of the rage falls away and Jordan realizes how wet she feels.  She looks down at her clothes. Sees how soaked in blood they are. Then her eyes fall to the mess she’s left on the floor. She almost throws up. Shakes her hands and feels brain matter slide off of them.

She thinks, what the fuck did I just do? What the fuck did I just do? 

“Jordan?” You call from across the room, sounding less drugged. 

She looks over at you and tears burn her eyes. Numb, she climbs off the body and rushes to you, looking you over. The tears fall when she sees the bruises, the small cuts. You must’ve fought him, even through the haze of his powers. You’ve always been a fucking fighter. She should have fucking been here. She doesn’t want to touch you with the blood on her hands but you don’t give her a choice, falling into her arms sobbing. She forces back her own. This is her fault. You’re the only one who deserves to cry. 

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Jordan mumbles, hands shaking as they leave bloody smears across your skin. What else can she say?

NANCY DOWNS:  

Secret keeping doesn’t work with Nancy. No matter how small of a secret, or a lie, she can sniff it out. Furthermore she hates when you lie. About anything. You should always tell each other the truth. You're one soul in two separate bodies, as far as Nancy is concerned. 

Even before she did the spell to bind you to one another permanently. 

Because of the magic she can feel what you’re hiding now. She had a suspicion before. But now she knows. Now she fucking knows. She’s furious, and heartbroken, and she knows. 

You still try and hide it, though. As if you can hide anything from the other half of your fucking soul.  

“Enough, Y/N.” She spits at you one night, when you’re trying so hard not to think about it. Not to feel. 

She doesn’t know why you’re blocking her out. Not letting her feel it with you. Whatever you suffered. Whatever harm that befell you it would be avenged times three if you just let her in.

Nancy’s magic has always been stronger. She was being kind before. Hoping you would come to her on your own. She sees now that you need to be encouraged. She’s still gentle, somehow, as she invades the sanctity of your mind. For one instant your consciousness is her consciousness, and you’re both one being, sharing every thought and feeling. 

She sees it. Feels it. Lives what you lived, in that single moment. She pulls herself out of your mind, eyes hauntingly empty. They meet yours, register you, and fill with tears slowly. You reach out, in sync and Nancy pulls you to her. You can’t tell apart the sounds of your voices as you start to scream and sob. 

You pass out, eventually. Either from exhaustion or a spell Nancy placed on you. You wake in your shared bed to her standing over you, covered in blood. A knife in one hand, something meaty and dripping in the other. When your eyes adjust fully to the moonlight you realize it’s a human heart. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. You're safe now. You’ll always be safe, with me. You understand?” Nancy coos, petting your face with the hand holding the knife. It cuts you. You start to cry and you’re not sure if it’s from relief. 

JENNIFER CHECK:

You come home from the party you attended quietly. You open the door without a sound. Kick off your shoes. Put down your bag. You’ve shut yourself into the bathroom before she can even ask how it went. Immediately, her hackles are up. Irritation and concern. You know she hates being ignored. You never ignore her. You didn’t even say hello. 

Jennifer knocks on the bathroom door, trying to keep her voice playful as she asks what your deal is. You don’t respond. The sound of running water is the only thing she can hear. She pounds on the door, getting nervous. 

Then she picks up the smell of prey. You smell like prey. Dried sweat perfumes your skin, the sweetest smelling kind, that only one emotion causes: primal fear. The faintest whiff of blood and tears.

She breaks down the door. You don’t even notice. Don’t even look away from the mirror. You just go on trying to wipe the blood from your face. Your lip is busted. Hair a tangled mess. Scrapes along your cheek and neck, collarbone. Your clothes are a mess too. Rips and tears in fabric that was pristine a few hours ago.

“Baby?” Jennifer says again, feeling sick. Still nothing. 

She reaches out to touch you, gently. You come alive, jolting away from her with a scream. It’s the type of fear she’s heard a thousand times. Right before she rips out an organ or a throat. 

It’s the breaking of a dam and you fall to the ground, sobbing, still trying to wipe away at your skin. Any bit of skin you can reach. Jennifer tries to wrestle the rag from you. You’re being too rough, you're only human. You’re so breakable. You fight against her, sobs getting louder. 

“Baby stop fighting me!” Jennifer begs, uncharacteristically.  Between your sobs she makes out the words of you needing to clean yourself and her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t know she was capable of tears still.

“Stop.” Jennifer commands, voice going inhuman, harmonic. You go still, entranced by the full force of her power. Jennifer feels the tears falling down her cheeks. Watches your own tears cut bloody, miserable lines down your face. 

She takes the rag and gently wipes at your cuts. She peels away your ruined clothes. Starts the bath and places you inside it. Every time her hold on your mind starts to wane, and that animal fear of harm kicks back in, she speaks to you. She doesn’t let the control slip until your body stops secreting that awful smell of terror. 

“Who did this, baby?” She asks quietly, trying not to focus on the haunted look on your face. 

You don’t answer her. She swallows. 

“That’s okay, baby. I’ve got the scent anyways.” She tucks you into bed, orders you into a dreamless sleep that you couldn’t hope to fight off. 

She doesn’t come back home until the morning. The blood beneath her fingernails makes her itch. The smell of the monster she killed is putrid in her nose. She showers under water so hot it singes even her skin. When she crawls into bed beside you, before she falls asleep, she thinks about how hungry she is. She curls her entire body around yours.

She hadn’t been able to stomach even the thought of eating your fucking rapist. 

CARRIE WHITE:

You’d just moved into this house together. It was a nice enough neighborhood. Cozy. Nothing too big or expensive. The dorms at university had been too loud and hectic for Carrie. For this semester you’d decided you needed to build a life together. 

She’d never been happier than she was while painting the walls with you. Picking out lamps, and blankets, and a shoe rack. She remembers the way she’d used telekinesis to haul the heavy couch inside while the two of you held your hands underneath and pretended to carry it. The elderly neighbors all watching from their porches with dropped jaws. When you took one hand away to wave at them Carrie had to rush you both inside before she actually dropped the couch from laughing. 

You went to class together. Cooked and cleaned side by side. Carrie tailoring clothes for money and you tutoring. It was good. Life was good. After years of suffering, you were her heaven on Earth. 

Carrie came home from grocery shopping, humming quietly to herself. She knew you were home but didn’t call out for you. You’d told her you were tutoring someone this afternoon. Some of the subjects required a lot of focus, especially if you were already struggling with the material. She’d brought extra snacks in case they were hungry. 

She set the groceries down in the kitchen and walked into the living room. She froze in her tracks. You were there, and there was your student, on top of you. You locked eyes with Carrie, over their shoulder. They were holding you down. You’d been gagged to keep you from screaming. So the neighbors wouldn’t hear.

They were assaulting you in your own home. In the home you shared with her. Her vision whited out. 

She came to with your hands gently shaking her awake. She screamed when she saw you. You were covered in blood. In gore, and chunks of flesh. The sight alone brought back such horrible memories she turned over and threw up. You held her hair back, as if the blood on your hands was less awful than vomit. 

She tried to look…. To see what she’d done. But you won’t let her look past you. You’re sobbing and still trying to protect her. Even though she hadn’t protected you. Her whole world. Her angel, that God sent her, and she’d let you be defiled. She’d failed you. 

You fall apart in each other’s arms, trying to ignore the headless body a few feet away.

GINGER FITZGERALD:

You’d thought she’d under-reacted, when you told her. ‘She’s being unusually calm’ was your exact thought. But you were so tired, after years of holding in the dark secret. You were just relieved to have her acceptance, without hesitation, without disgust. 

She asked no questions that could leave you wondering about anything. On whether or not she thinks it’s your fault. If she thinks you should’ve fought back harder. If she thinks you’re weak. Tainted. Dirty. She says all the perfect words, everything you’ve ever needed to hear. She held you close and whispered them, and kissed you the same as always. 

She treats you no differently. You let yourself soften in the reality of a devotion that only Ginger can give. 

But you knew she was under-reacting. 

You walk into your living room a week later and see Ginger sitting on the couch, your rapist beaten within an inch of their life, bound and gagged at her feet. Her face lights up when she sees you. She grins like a wolf, canines sharper than usual. 

She stomps on their head as she skips to greet you, grabbing you by the hips. She ignores your gaping mouth when she kisses your cheek affectionately, “Brought you a little gift, baby.” 

“I almost just killed them, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted-”

“Wanted to what, Ging?” You cut her off, breathless, eyes glued to that hauntingly familiar face.

“Wanted the chance to make them suffer, before they die.” Ginger whispers, staring at you so lovingly you almost start to cry.

You tug her into your arms and laugh wetly when she starts to purr. You can see the way her tail wags beneath her skirt. She’s always so eager to please.

“I don’t know if I can do that, Ginger.” You admit into the skin of her neck. 

“Sure you can.” Ginger coos, taking you by the hands and leading you over to the shivering body on the ground. “I’ll show you how.”

She takes off the gag so you can hear the screams better. 

[redheadspark]

Never Ever

Summary - Azriel consols his son after a nightmare.

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Azriel has gown accustom to the quiet in Velaris.

The little home out in the countryside was especially quiet, with the moon hanging high in the sky amongst the clouds and the grass softly swaying in the wind, Azriel loved this kind of quiet.  He was accustomed to frogs bellowing from the river not too far away, or the faint hum of fireflies that were dancing along the tops of the herbs in the garden behind the cottage.  He was used to it now, and he would prefer this over the sterile silence of the Illyrian camps or even in the city of Velaris. 

This was one of the very few nights he was home.  Most of the time he would work late or until around dinner time, Rhysand needing his Spymaster duties more frequently than ever before.  With the improved relationship with Autumn Court getting better by the day, Eris was still a targeting threat to Night Court.  He knew that threats he had two times against Azriel and his family, so The Autumn Prince has been quiet for the last few months or so.  Azriel still kept his shadows busy with intel from Eris.

He had no trust in Eris, and he wouldn’t anytime soon.

You were helping Nesta and Cassian at the House of Wind, Nesta being so close to her due date that she was restricted to her bed until it was time to give birth.  Madja had to be stern with her, knowing Nesta was a stubborn fae.  She was convinced though, Cassian staying by her side to give her plenty of rest and preparation for their new title bundle of joy.  You were more than willing to help, making plenty of herbs for her and prepping plenty of great meals for herself and Cassian to enjoy.  It meant that you were the one staying out a bit later in the night, and Azriel would be on cottage duty.

Of course, Alec missed his mother being around.  When he wasn’t attending school in the mornings in Velaris, he would be at home or on a playdate with Nyx.  Azriel could tell he was missing you from time to time when you’d be helping his Aunt Nesta.  He was good at hiding his feelings, even with the faint signs of his shadows humming against his small backside, Alec never wanted to show that he wanted his mother.  It pained Azriel to see his son trying to hide his feelings, but then again he had to do the same when he was young.

Azriel made it a point to change that with Alec.

He had finished the last of the dishes to let them air dry when he first felt it along his shadows.  Movement, very close by, making him pause from his actions.  It wasn’t a negative sense so to speak, but something familiar.  Something warm, not a threat, and nothing dangerous.  He knew that feeling, and the next thing he heard was one of the floorboards creaking from very little weight.  

Lastly, he heard a sniffle.  Instantly he turned, knowing who it was within an instant.

Alec, in his pajamas, and massive tears on his cheeks.

“D-d-daddy,” He hiccuped.

Azriel was gliding over within an instant and scooping him up within his arms.  Alec clung to him, his face digging into his father’s neck so his father could feel the tears hitting his shirt.  It broke his heart to see Alec in tears, a sweet young boy who would never hurt fly and would light up his tiresome day.  Azriel also knew his heart was tender, so tender and consumed with love, so there would be times when it would break or shatter.  

All Azriel could do was pick up those pieces and mend his heart.

“What’s wrong, Alec?  You wanna tell me?” Azriel asked him in a soothing tone, rubbing his back with his knuckles as he walked them over to the couch to sit.  Alec was hiccuping in his lap, his fingers clinging to Azriel’s shirt too tight as Azriel kept cooing at him, “I got you, okay?  You’re safe with me,”

“I-I had a b-b-bad dream,” Alec mumbled into his shirt, sniffling a bit.

“I’m sorry, buddy.  Nightmares are simply scary dreams.  But that’s all they are: dreams.  Nothing real, okay?” Azriel reminded his son, who nodded his head rapidly as he moved his head to look up at his other.  His bright eyes were almost illuminated, and the tears on his cheeks were evident.

“I didn’t l-l-like the dream though, Daddy,” he explained, Azriel hummed and pushed his tears away gently with his thumbs.

“I know you didn’t, buddy.  You wanna tell me about it?” He asked his son, he bit his lower lip for a brief moment as his father waited patiently.  It was one of the traits Ariel loved about his son: always in deep thought.

“You and momma weren’t there,” Alec explained, Azriel watching his son’s piercing blue eyes start to mist again as he was looking at his fingers that were fiddling in his lap, “I was lost and I tried to find you, and momma.  But I couldn’t find you, and I..I g-g-ot—“

Azriel tucked him into a hug again as Alec sniffled and blinked out a few more tears.  Azriel knew his son loved being around his parents, he had a sense of safety with you and Azriel.  It was one of the main goals Azriel had: to make his son feel loved and safe.  It wasn’t that Alec was insanely introverted, he had friends at his school and a wonderful relationship with his cousin Nyx.  Alec would rather be around his big loving family than anywhere else. The last thing Azriel would ever want is for his son to not feel safe at any time.  

“My sweet boy,” Azriel hummed into his son’s hair while he rubbed Alec’s back soothingly with the tips of his fingers, “You should never be afraid of being alone.  You will never be alone, okay?  Your momma and I will never ever leave you alone,”

Azriel heard his son sniffle a bit, then pausing before speaking in a mere murmur, “Never?”

He had to smile against his son’s black locks, hearing the small inkling of hope in his son’s tone, “Never ever.  You’re our son, Alec Rhysand, and we love and adore you too much to leave you alone,”

It seemed to do the trick since Azriel could no longer hear Alec crying or sniffling too much.  But he was still holding onto his father, not as tightly but possessively.  He finally sat back up, Azriel seeing how he was a bit calmer and sleep was evident on his face and under his eyes.  He grinned, “How about I tuck you back into bed, okay?”

“Mmkay, and daddy?” Alec asked tentatively.

“Yeah, Alec?”

“I miss momma,”  

Azriel heard the pain in his voice from those three words, which broke his heart a bit.  He knew Alec loved his mother and wanted to be around her constantly.  You were an exceptional mother to Alec, you knew just how to shower him with love and still be firm at the same time when it was needed.  But the best thing that you did, in Azriel’s opinion at least, was make Alec feel like the most important Illryian throughout the land.  

It was as if you were born to be a mother.  Azriel firmly believed that.

“I know, buddy. I miss her too,” Azriel agreed, standing up with Alec in his arms as Alec’s head was snuggled on his shoulder with his eyes blinking slowly and a yawn on his lips, “However, if I know your momma, she should be back very soon.  But right now she’s helping Aunt Nesta, remember?”

“Helping her before she has the baby?” Alec asked as Azriel walked down the hallway back to Alec’s little bedroom.

“That’s right. Your momma wants to help her before the baby comes, and that means she has to be away for a bit.  But not forever,” Azriel reassured his son as he made it to the door that was left ajar that led into Alec’s room.  

“I hope not forever,” Alec mumbled, yawning again as Azriel chuckled and poked his head into the small room.  Alec’s bed was tucked against the wall and by a window that looked out into the open meadow, Velaris not too far away along with the massive mountains.  His dresser was in the closet that had his clothes and small trinkets sitting on the top.  The walls were painted in tints of purple and blue to reflect the night sky, all thanks to Aunt Feyre, and plenty of toys that were tucked into a beautiful wooden toy chest with his name engraved on the top, a generous gift from his Uncle Rhysand.  

Azriel walked his son across the room, dodging the wooden sword that Alec got as a Winter Solstice gift from Cassian last year and then placing his son back in bed.  Alec snuggled into the bed as Azriel tucked the blanket up and around his arms.  Azriel could see that he was beyond sleepy, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and trying to stay awake as his head was sinking into the plush pillow, “Tomorrow we can go to the harbor. You, me, and momma. How does that sound?”

Alec lit up a bit from the suggestion, his smile infectious as he nodded his head, “Mmkay, Daddy.  I wanna get a present for Nesta’s baby too,” 

“You want to get a gift?” Azriel asked, almost in a bit of shock as Alec nodded his head again.

“Mmhmm.  Maybe a stuffy like my owl, so that if the baby gets sad, the stuffy will help,” He suggested, his voice showing signs of slumber and his eyes starting to drift close with ease.  Azriel was immensely proud of his son, seeing how big his heart was even when he was missing his mother and experiencing a nightmare.  

“That sounds like a great idea, Alec.  Now, let’s get some sleep, okay?  I’ll make sure momma comes in to give you a kiss when she gets home, okay?”  Azriel asked him as Alec held his stuffed owl in his tiny arms.

“Okay, Daddy.  Night night,” Alec replied, letting out one more big yawn before his eyes drifted closed.

“Goodnight, buddy.  I love you,” Azriel hummed against his head, pressing one more kiss against his dark locks.  He then got up from the bed, about to walk out of the bedroom and close the door behind him when he heard a soft sound from the bed.

“Love you too, daddy,”

Azriel turned back and looked, seeing Alec drifting back to sleep with a soft smile.  Once again, Azriel had to pause and drink in his life: to anyone else, it would be seen as mundane or ordinary.  Not to him, not to the Spymaster who went through torment and pain as a youngster and always had to have people arm's length away.  He saw death head-on and fought back, he’s seen fae and other beings die around him as he went on, and he always assumed he wouldn’t have a simple life or that the simple life would fulfill him.

He was wrong.  This life was the only life he would ever want and need.��

As he turned off the light and closed the door, with the moonlight dancing along his son’s sleeping face, Azriel considered himself a lucky Illryian for this life.  He no longer had to rely on fear or brutality as other Illryians did, nor did he have to be uncertain if he would ever be happy.  He was beyond happy, happy with a mate who loved him with all his flaws, happy that he had a found family who brought him out of darkness and doubt, and most importantly, happy with his son who saw Azriel as his world and more.  

The next morning Azriel noticed that your side of the bed was still untouched, which made him slightly panic.  But your jacket was hung on the back of a chair, as well as your messenger bag you would take.  That made him confused as he got up from bed and ruffled his hair.  Anytime either one of you would come in late, you would notify each other.  Azriel couldn’t recall hearing you whisper to him last night or getting a kiss on the cheek, yet your things were in the room.  

He poked his head into Alec’s room, seeing an adorable and loving sight as you cradled your son in your arms and the pair of you sleeping in Alec’s bed.  Your wings drooped over the side of the small bed, Alec snoring away as his head was on your chest fast asleep while you too were in deep sleep with your arms tucked around him.  With the early morning sun rays dancing in the room to brighten the space, it felt peaceful and almost tranquil in a way.  

Azriel had to grin: the two most important beings in his life were sleeping together.  

The End.

tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup

[star-girl69]

Little Bit

Georgia Amoore x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: georgia keeps coming back to you.

a/n: georgia said she liked this song and i coincidentally like this song too (actually lol) so here we are 🥰

Little Bit - Lykke Li

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, mentions of a slight injury, the usual swearing, reader and georgia are exes and ended on bad terms, the bad terms being that georgia never had enough time for r, no cheating here dw!!!! despite the rumors… sigh, girl idek if this would work, UMMM WE GET FREAKY, making out, mentions of sex… yeah…, lmk if i missed anything!!!

—-

“Hello? Who is it?”

It’s dark. It’s 10:54pm. You have to rub some of the sleep from your eyes.

Whoever is knocking at the door is panicked. You can hear it in the way they knock- they’re nervous, maybe. Something is wrong. They knock too fast, too hard. Not like they’re in a hurry, but more so like they wish the door wasn’t there in the first place.

“Can I come in?”

Fuck.

You know that voice, even if it’s through a door.

“Georgia,” you sigh, hand on the doorknob, not quite opening it yet. You can hear her let out a small sound that’s a cross between a begging plea and a scoff, then the shuffling of feet.

“Please, Y/N.”

You loved her for so long. You still love her. Maybe some part of you will always love her, and you’ll just have to grow around the mark she made.

You open the door just wide enough for the chain lock to be pulled taut, finally laying eyes on her- she looks like a shell of herself.

“Georgia?” You ask, your brows furrowing, eyes wide in shock.

“Y/N,” she says your voice so sweetly. “Can I please come in?”

You look around her, but she’s in the empty hallway of your apartment building. There’s no one there. You don’t know how she got here, you don’t know what happened- but you know she came here. She came to you.

“I just really need you right now,” she says, and your heart breaks at the sound of tears in her voice, and suddenly you can see them shining so brightly in her eyes like stars.

You probably shouldn’t let your ex in. Especially not when she’s in such a vulnerable state like this, and you’ve been thinking about her more often then you care to admit…

“What happened?” You finally ask, voice small. She stays silent. “Did it- a game? Did something happen at a game?”

Your eyes suddenly widen and you tug on the door, forgetting the chain is there- “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she says, wiping something from her eye. “I’m fine. Please, Y/N, I know… okay. I know, but I still need you.”

You stumble over the words.

“W-we’re not da-dating. We’re not dating.”

“I know,” she says, kind of sadly, kind of resigned. “I just need you.”

If she says that sentence to you one more time you might actually break down and love her again. Love her, really, fully. But you can’t do that. The only way you can love her is secretly, in a tender part of your heart she had carved out so lovingly, and eventually left with scars.

And maybe… maybe you can love her in the darkness of your apartment.

You probably shouldn’t do this. But you’ll deal with that guilt later.

“You can always come here,” you whisper, shutting the door softly, almost like she’s a wild, scared animal that will run away at any movement too loud or sudden. You unhook the lock. The chain falls, it hits against the door.

You tighten your hand on the doorknob, about to pull it open- but you don’t have too. The door suddenly slams open, Georgia bursting in through the door like water through a broken dam- because you swear that’s what this night feels like. That’s what every interaction you have with her feels like. A dam- your resolve- breaking, and her rushing in past the broken pieces, taping you up behind her.

She wraps her arms around your waist, just like she used to do, and puts her face into your neck, just like she used to do.

It takes a second for the world to come back into focus, for your body to process the feeling of her skin on yours again, suddenly your hearing comes back and you hear the sounds of soft sobs. Tears are falling down, wetting your skin- but you can’t be bothered.

“Georgia,” you whisper, finally wrapping your arms around her after a moment of shock. “What happened?”

She shakes her head, cries a little harder- and immediately tries to stop herself and choke it back.

“Hey, hey,” you whisper, softly placing your hand into her hair and playing with the thick locks there, like you always used to do. “It’s okay, b- Georgia. It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. I can just hold you for a while?”

She nods, after a tense second.

“I can do that,” you continue, still whispering. She once told you that she liked your voice.

“Keep talking,” she whispers, her voice thick and scratchy.

“Okay,” you say, letting out a breath.

You feel like a lighthouse letting a ship know where the port is. You feel like Orpheus trying to lead Eurydice out of the underworld with just his voice, trying to lead Georgia back to herself from wherever dark place she is.

“I had McDonald’s for dinner,” you blurt out. “It was really good. It’s Friday, I wanted to treat myself. Um, I had a pretty hard week. Just school wise. I had, like, three tests this week. Studying was rough, but I survived. I was watching the Office before you knocked. It was that one episode where Micheal goes into the woods and tries to survive on his own- I don’t know, it was funny. But Dwight followed him out, and, um, yeah. It was funny. I miss you.”

Her tears have dried by now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

And it’s suddenly so right that you’re standing in front of your doorway, holding her in the faint glow of the TV.

“Don’t be. I’m glad you came here. Would rather you here than the streets,” you laugh, dryly.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, because you both know she’s not really sorry about coming here, but for some reason- neither of you have the heart to say it.

And you can’t tell her it’s okay. You can’t say it’s fine.

Softly, like she’s made of glass and you’ll break her, you press a kiss to her hairline.

“Come lay down with me?” You try to sound convincing, but it’s a question.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, and your stomach drops back down from where it had jumped to your throat in anticipation.

Your heartbeat increases at the thought of getting to sleep next to her again, knowing you’re about to sleep so good next to her, touching her skin. The TV continues to glow, continues to talk in low voices.

You softly let go of her, hand drifting to hold hers, watching as she wipes her tears.

She doesn’t need you to guide her to your bed. She knows where it is, but you take her there anyways with a hand that’s maybe a little too tight. But her grip is just as tight.

You know she’ll leave before you wake up.

She can’t face you in the light. And that’s fine, because you can’t really face her in the light either.

She squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

It feels a little bit like you never broke up.

—-

Everything is a giant fucking blur.

It’s so dark in here, all of the lights are turned off, and it feels more like a rave of some sort instead of a random frat party. They have these stupid neon strobe lights going, making green and yellow flash obnoxiously over everything- making it kind of hard to see. Making it kind of hard to keep the contents of your stomach actually inside of your stomach.

You’re supposed to be with your friends, celebrating one of your friend’s friend breaking up with her boyfriend who was apparently cheating on her, and the entire time all you could think about was your breakup with Georgia.

And the weeks before you finally toughed up and broke up with her- the weeks where you never saw her, where she forgot about you.

You head towards the counter strewn with half-empty bottles of liquor and red solo cups. You grab one that’s hopefully unused, mixing yourself up some random concoction that will definitely taste like shit, but you hope that you can’t think about her anymore if you drink too much.

You weren’t stupid, despite what someone may think- watching you spill a perfectly good bottle of vodka over the side of the cup, you really don’t have good hand-eye coordination right now- you’re not stupid. You knew it was going to be hard dating a D-1 athlete, you knew you would come third, and you were completely fine with that.

You didn’t get mad when she came home from practice and simply kissed you on the cheek before collapsing into bed, you honestly found it kind of sweet- because she would drag you into bed with her, beg you to run your fingers through her hair, or massage her aching muscles.

You didn’t get mad when she choose to spend one of her rare free nights with her friends- you were a little jealous in the moment, but the pictures she posted on Instagram with the biggest smile on her face made up for her.

You did get mad when she just stopped coming over, when suddenly your bed was too far, not even the promise of your soothing hands could get her to come back to your place. You did get mad when she didn’t answer you for days. You did get mad when you told her you were feeling a little neglected, and then cancelled last minute on your date she had planned- not for any reason, except to go shoot hoops by herself in an empty gym, drilling herself.

You did get mad when you spent every night alone without her.

You put the bottle back down, lifting the red solo cup and taking a big sip.

No. You can’t do this. You can’t feel like this, not tonight.

You take another sip, and another, until suddenly you’re floating through the dance floor and sticky alcohol is splashed on your front, and you can’t really see straight, and everything is kinda hazy and beautiful.

You find your friends in the crowd, downing the rest of your drink before crushing it in your hand and throwing it somewhere, hands in the air as you dance loudly and unapologetically.

You dance until your feet scream at you, your heels digging into your feet, following your friends through the crowd until you lose them, you can’t see them anymore.

Tears well in your eyes. Your breathing picks up.

“Y/N!” A bright and cheery voice exclaims.

Oh, it’s Liz.

“Liz,” you say, your voice not sounding like your own.

Her face quickly turns to one of concern. She takes in your slightly rucked up outfit, your teary eyes, the sweat pouring down your face.

She puts her hand on your shoulder, leaning down close to your ear so you can hear her.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Okay, you start to say- but where Liz is, Georgia will be.

“No-”

“Bloody hell, Y/N.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of your ex-girlfriend.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p, laughing a little. “Nope, nope, nope. I need my friends, not you.”

You can tell Georgia is a little hurt by that, but she doesn’t back down. Liz stands kind of awkwardly to the side of you, but you keep yourself pressed against her and as far away from Georgia as you can.

You love her, you’re drunk, and she’s looking really kissable right now.

“Well, I don’t see your friends,” she shoots right back. “Do you?”

Her tone is a little condescending.

“Oh, shut up,” you say in disgust, taking a step forward- in your head, you’re gonna knock into her shoulder and strut past her. Hopefully she’ll even look at your ass as you leave.

Instead, you’re drunk, you don’t have your footing, you’re in godforsaken heels- and you careen forward, right into her waiting arms.

She sighs as she wraps an arm around your shoulder, her other hand immediately going to hold your hip.

She pretends to be annoyed.

You’re not surprised by this act, she was so vulnerable last week when she came over and said she needed you, cried in your arms- and you’re putting on this bratty act because you’re mad at yourself for letting her in.

But in your drunk state, you can feel her skin on yours so vividly, and you can feel the way her fingers slightly curl into you. Greedy. Possessive, almost. You fall into her and you let her take you, and suddenly she’s taken it upon herself to make sure you’re okay all-too easily. 

“Okay. c’mon,” she sighs, like it’s some big inconvenience to her, but she slides her arm around your waist and holds to her so quickly, again so possessively.

And you would be lying if you said you never felt as safe as you do when her arm is around you.

“I’m fine,” you hiss at her, trying to push her off of you- but she doesn’t really want to let go, and neither do you. She simply tightens her grip, and you simply stop fighting.

She brings you to a much quieter, much emptier part of the house, helping you sit on a couch before asking Liz to find you some water- or just anything that wasn’t alcohol.

“How much did you drink?” She asks when she sits down next to you, putting her hand on your back. You sit with your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands, staring at the floor intently.

“A lot,” you mumble.

She laughs softly in response.

“Do you feel okay?”

Her thumb is rubbing back and forth against your back. Fuck, fuck, you lost your friends and now she’s so close and so far, and it’s so dark in this room- you can barely see a few feet in front of you.

It feels so secret- because everywhere else music is blasting. But in here, it’s just your voice and hers.

Tears well in your eyes yet again.

Maybe you should stop drinking. It makes you too goddamn emotional.

You turn to her.

You can’t face her in the light. But here, it’s so dark.

She’s let her hair down tonight. She almost never wears her hair down, so you’re kinda shocked- and you kinda wanna run your fingers through the waves.

“Why’re you here?” You ask, words muddled by alcohol.

She shrugs. “Just for fun.”

“You don’t know how to have fun,” you accuse.

She laughs, scrunches her nose. It’s all kinda condescending, still. Like you’re some little girl who doesn’t really know anything.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You never had any fun with me.”

She looks away.

“So it’s me, then? I’m the problem?”

“You’re not the problem, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t be a brat,” she scolds.

Her? Scolding you?

You narrow your eyes. “Fuck. You. You’re selfish as shit, and I’m glad I broke up with you everyday.”

Saying that feels like you’re coughing up your organs, but whatever.

She smiles, scratching her nose.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” you echo.

She rolls her eyes. “Fuckin’ brat.”

“You can leave. You know that, right? You don’t have to stay here. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to sit on the same couch as a “brat” like me.”

“I’m not gonna leave.”

You find yourself inching closer to her.

“Scared of the dark or something, Amoore?”

Suddenly her eyes meet yours.

“Oh, no. I know what you’re scared of.”

She leans back against the couch, adjusting her legs, arms out wide along the back of the couch.

“Really?” She laughs. Genuinely laughs, as if the idea of you something knowing personal about her is so unbelievable.

Suddenly, you swing your leg over hers and climb into her lap. You straddle her, hands pressing into her shoulders as she stares at you in shock.

“Y/N,” she says, swallowing- suddenly not so cocky anymore. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You ask, twirling a piece of her hair. “Need to me to talk some more? ‘Cause you love my voice so much, right?”

She puts her hands on your thighs and barely tries to push you off. She could, if she really wanted to. She’s strong. You love her arms.

“I’m really drunk,” you confess, still twirling with a piece of her hair. You can feel her gaze on your pouted lips. “I’m probably not gonna remember this in the morning…”

“Y/N.” It’s a very clear warning, but you push past it. There’s something between your thighs and a burning desire in your stomach.

“Maybe you should show me why I shouldn’t be a brat.���

Her hand moves up from your thigh to cup your waist.

“Fuck, princess.”

“Yeah?” You say, feeling kinda like a giddy schoolgirl at the way she hungrily rakes her eyes up your body, finally landing on your lips. You bite one of them- and the alcohol prevents you from feeling kinda silly, and you can see it on her face. The way she wants you right now.

“Bloody hell,” she whispers, finally leaning forward to place a kiss to your bare chest. She lets her lips linger, and you know you have her right under your thumb- but now it’s not about the power play.

Now it’s about how fucking badly you want her to touch you.

“Touch me,” you say, hoping she doesn’t tease you about the fact you’re practically begging for her, but she seems to want to touch you just as bad. “Touch me, Georgia, please.”

“Shh,” she whispers, before finally pressing her lips to yours.

It feels a little bit like you never broke up.

—-

It’s annoyingly bright. And loud. Your eardrums might burst.

And in all honesty, you never really understood basketball all that well.

You kinda hate this entire thing.

You sigh, leaning back farther into your chair as a buzzer sounds and people cheer- and you straighten up only to realize that it’s just the first quarter.

It’s only been 10 minutes?

Your friends are all super into the game, of course, and it’s not like you don’t like supporting the girls on the team- Liz Kitley, at least, you still consider her to be one of your friends.

Having to watch Georgia completely command the court is probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. The way she’s so completely in her element, her hair tied back and sticking to her forehead and neck with sweat- you find yourself wanting to lick her skin.

You shake your head and groan, trying to physically get the annoyingly horny thoughts out- but, fuck. All you can think about is the last time you saw her.

The way her hands trailed your skin so hungrily, getting lower and lower, and the feeling in your stomach that felt suspiciously like an actual fire coming to a burning climax before slowly coming back down, reassured by her sweet kisses.

The way she held you that night was possessive. She made you feel like hers. The way she kissed you that night was like she had been starved of you for years, and thought about you every second.

Your friend nudges you. “Starin’ real hard.”

“I’m not,” you hiss, but you know you are.

“No, it’s okay,” she laughs. “I support it. You both miss each other.” You roll your eyes, but she doubles down. “You’re both still in love with each other, babe.”

Some odd emotion takes root in your chest. It squeezes.

“I’m not in love with her. I’m just… in like with her.”

“Mhm,” she says with a smile. “Well, we’ll all be here to celebrate when you guys finally admit it.”

“Jane, shut up.”

She nudges you again with a teasing smile. “I saw those suspicious looking bruises on your hips after that one party you both disappeared at… I might even say those suspicious bruises were kinda… Georgia shaped.”

“Shut. Up. Jane.” You narrow your eyes, and she only smiles widely before laughing and turning back to the game.

“Take your time, babe. Take your time.”

From what you understood, this was the Elite Eight game for the Hokies, and it was kind of a big deal. This game was the one that worked best in your and your friends schedules, and the stadium wasn’t exactly that far, so you came to have fun with them. To support your school, and Liz, and watching Georgia sink a few threes was an added guilty pleasure of a bonus.

You continue watching, your eyes staying mostly on #5.

Surprisingly, you aren’t watching when she gets hit.

You’ve actually managed to tear your eyes away from her and focus on the ball- when suddenly your friends gasp.

You look around the court, eyes finally landing on someone in a Hokie jersey laying on their back, face in their hands.

Someone in a red jersey walks past her, revealing a head of hair you know is Georgia’s.

You straighten, practically jumping out of your seat, your leg immediately staring to bounce up and down in anxiety.

“Get up,” you mumble to yourself. “Be okay. Get up. You’re fine, please. Please get up.”

She doesn’t get up. When you see the athletic trainers step onto the court you stand up quickly.

Jane is watching it from next to you, still sitting down, biting her nails- she looks up at you.

“Hey, Y/N, calm down,” she says, grabbing your hand. Squeezing, trying to bring you back to reality.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumble as Jane pulls herself to stand. “They have to help her off? She can’t walk herself? W-where’d she even get hit? I didn’t see, I- I-”

“Y/N.”

Jane grabs your shoulders.

“Take a deep breath… wipe your tears… and go get your girl.”

You follow the first two steps but falter at the third.

“What?” You mumble, bringing your hand down from your face.

She looks towards the court, and that’s when you realize she’s walking right past you to get to the locker rooms.

You’re thankfully at the end of the aisle, so you carefully make your way down the stairs, to the barricade, kinda feeling like you’re floating. Now that she’s at least up you feel a little better, your tears are starting to dry.

All you want to do is make sure she’s okay.

And even though she’s not yours, and you only love her in the dark- you need to know.

Besides… it’s been two weeks since you’ve felt her skin on yours.

“Georgia!” You call, hands on the barricade bracing yourself. “Georgia!”

You probably didn’t even need to call a second time, because she turns towards you.

A security guard steps in front of you with a large hand, asking you to please get back to your seat- you lock eyes with Georgia.

Her chin. It’s bright red and slightly swollen.

Silently, you ask her to please let you in- but she keeps walking, two athletic trainers helping her.

“Ma’am, please get back to your seat,” the guard says again.

Does she regret that night at the party? Is this feeling in your chest ever since Jane said she was in love with you hope? And it is being crushed now?

“Okay,” you mutter, feeling tears form in your eyes tenfold.

“You’re Y/N?” One of the athletic trainers has run over to you. The security guard gives her a look, but she glares right back.

“Yeah?”

“Georgia asked for you, c’mon.” She beckons you to follow her-

“Really?”

“Yes,” she deadpans. “She said she needed you. I don’t care what she needs, as long as she checks out, I want her to get back out there.”

“Me too,” you nod, sensing this lady took her job very seriously.

“Well c’mon then,” she sighs, patting the barricade, encouraging you to hop it. The security guard rolls his eyes and walks away, and you quickly clamber over the barricade and follow the woman- who walks very fast.

“Did she really say that she needed me?”

Your voice sounds like a stupid Disney princess.

The smallest smile makes its way into her face.

“Yes. She said she needed you.”

Georgia needs you.

You enter the locker room full of fluorescent lights, squinting as your eyes adjust and the door shuts behind you.

She’s sitting on a bench, her fists clenched as the other trainer softly holds her face to look at the mark already forming.

Georgia needs you.

You softly sit next to her, and it takes her a second to finally notice you out of the corner of her eye- an eye which is scrunched up in pain.

“Georgia,” you whisper. Her hand is shaky when you grab it. “What happened?”

“I think everyone saw,” she mumbles. You brush back some hair sticking to her forehead.

“I was actually playing attention to the ball, so, I didn’t.”

“You paid attention to basketball?”

“Well, not very well. But I tried.”

You move closer to her so your thighs are touching, her hand squeezes yours as she turns her head- and you spot the bruise on her chin.

“She got me in the chin.”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp, looking up wide eyes to the atheistic trainer. “Is it normal to be a bruise already- God, is your jaw broken? Are you okay?”

Georgia and the trainers all let out a laugh, and you feel kinda silly, but Georgia squeezes your hand as if to reassure you. You feel a little bit better.

“Completely normal,” the woman before explains. “And, a little tip, usually if people are talking- jaws aren’t broken.”

“Oh, whatever,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks get a little hot. One of the trainers hands you an ice pack.

You.

“You’re medically checked out. Ice it for a minute, catch your breath, and you’re ready to go back out there if you want to.”

“Okay, thanks,” Georgia nods, smiling tightly- but you can hear it in her voice. The weight of it all. The pressure.

“We’ll give you a minute alone,” the trainer says, kind of suggestively, but you force yourself to ignore that as her and her colleague let the door shut behind them.

You softly press the ice pack to her chin. She shuts her eyes, and you can tell she’s willing herself not to cry.

“Does it hurt a lot?” It’s kind of a stupid question, but you can’t think of anything else to say.

“No. It’s not too bad.” Her eyes shut, and you place your other hand on her jaw to steady yourself. She lets out a breath.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you whisper, hand moving to smooth back her ponytail.

“Mm- no, no. I’m fine. I just need you right now.”

And it’s in moments like this, when Georgia says she needs you, when she’s touching you and looking to you for comfort… this is how you know you’ll never be able to fully tear yourself away from her.

She’ll always run back to you. And you’ll always let her, with open arms.

You kind of want to ask her what needing you means. But you don’t.

“I should get back out there,” she says. She’s whispering, like this moment will break.

“Yeah,” you agree, swallowing.

“Yeah.”

You meet her eyes again, and her pupils are slightly blown, she looks a little breathless-

“Oh, to fuck with it.”

She slams her lips onto yours, hands cupping your face and keeping you pressed close to her, the ice pack falling and your hands immediately winding around her neck- this is how you need her. You need her hungry and kissing you. You need her touching you and loving you.

She needs you to comfort her and you need her to fuck you.

Any shyness you had is long replaced, especially when one of her hands drifts down to squeeze your ass, making you moan her name into her mouth.

The kiss is disgusting, messy, kind of dirty.

“There’s so much riding on this game,” she breathes out when you move down to kiss her neck.

“I know,” you mumble back against her skin. “But you’re so talented.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, tilting her head back. “I only forget about it when I’m with you.”

Her hand drifts down to your neck, and she pulls you away to start kissing down yours, both of you careful to not leave marks- but you can feel her kissing a little harder then she should.

You’ll probably be leaving this place tonight with at least one faint mark on your neck. And the thought thrills you.

“Really?” You gasp. “Maybe you should stop fucking me over and spend more time fucking me.”

“I will,” she whispers against your skin, leaving one final kiss on the mark you could feel her forming. “I promise I will.”

“Good,” you say back, trying to sound confident. But she looks into your eyes, her ponytail messy from when you had tugged on her hair, and completely melt.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, pointing awkwardly to the hickey. But you know she’s saying sorry for more than that.

You cover it with your hair. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she smiles, a little wickedly.

“Please.”

“I really have to go back now,” she stands up, rubbing her jaw. “Sorry- shit. You distracted me.”

“Sorry,” you shrug.

“I really gotta go before I kiss you again.”

You smile. You smile so big and she smiles right back.

“Well, now you’re definitely gonna win because you’re all fired up, huh?” You stand up, following her to the locker room door.

“Definitely.”

She doesn’t promise to text you or anything, and you don’t mind. You know she’ll come back.

You smile softly instead of saying goodbye, and she stares at you kinda in amazement for a second before shaking her head and running right back over to the game.

It feels a little bit like you never broke up, but you’re kinda glad you broke up.

—-

[hungharrington]

masterlist

from oldest to latest. as always, this entire blog and everything produces on it is 18+. minors do NOT interact, you will be blocked. feel free to flick me a message if a link is busted or in the wrong place <3

i feel it coming, babe You're a little worried that the first time with Steve was a fluke. Between kisses and laughter and a tender amount of trust, you give it another go. 12k fem!reader, oral (f recieving), p in v, lots and lots of love <3

jealousy, jealousy Steve doesn't take kindly to even the thought of sharing you. hickies, grinding

kisses one through eight You're less experienced than maybe Steve realises and desperate to get things right. Good thing there's no way to get it wrong. sfw!

minute man (popular!) Steve Harrington has had stamina. afab!reader, p in v

i like you so much (popular!) It's definitely not his first time but god, does it feel like it with you. afab!reader, p in v, goofy but lovin

casual intimacy (popular!) Sometimes it's the little things. An evening of domestic pleasure between you and Steve. gn!reader, fade to black smut

spread (popular!) Steve has a favourite position. fem!reader, p in v

rub me just right (popular!) You're a big fan of lazily jerking Steve off and watching the show unfold. gn!reader, handjob, whiny steve

payback Steve teases you, but not without reason this time. fem!reader, more goofy than sexy imo, oral (f receiving)

take what you want Steve loves nothing more than being useful. fem!reader, whiny steve, in love stuff as always

steaming up Sometimes getting clean in the shower also means getting a little dirty. shower sex, fem!reader, p in v

a little less conversation, a little more action, please (popular!) You've had some bad sex and... well, thinking sex is the problem is easier than admitting it might be you. Steve knows better; that you just need someone to take care of you. 8k words.

two places at once Late night sixty-nineing can get messy. And loving. And competitive. afab!reader, 69, a pinch of face sitting

the price of pretty nails You've got fake nails and that means certain activities are restricted. Turns out, your best friend Steve is more than happy to help you out. fem!reader, fingering, plenty of teasing

cupped hands Even when he's fucking your mouth, Steve's gentle. You wish he wasn't so much. gn!reader, blowjob

wipe out Sitting up too quick can you have you passing out, even at the most inopportune moments. afab!reader, p in v, a touch of hurt/comfort

sittin' pretty (popular!) prompt: “just sit here and look pretty for me." You're ready to ride your boyfriend into oblivion - Steve has other, better, ideas. fem!reader, light choking, hella praise kink, riding but really its u getting railed from the bottom

you know what they say about big hands Some damn good finger-fucking from Mr. Steve Harrington. afab!reader, fingering, lil bitta condescending!steve

eyes on me Steve's a sap for eye contact, even if it means giving up some positions. afab!reader, p in v, riding

counting with kisses You count all of Steve's moles. sfw blurb, supa lovey dovey

my eyes are up here, handsome You catch Steve staring at you boobs. sfw blurb!

taunt Menace!reader teases Steve in the car by tugging the straps of their bikini loose. afab!reader, no smut just teasing :)

menace Steve can be a menace in bed, giving you a little of what you want, but not enough. afab!reader, fingering, teasing + menace!steve convincing you to blow him after the gym

tremble Sometimes, you need loving time... on your knees, pulling out every little whimper from Steve to let him know how adored he is. gn!reader, blowjob, praise

morning spoon (popular!) Some mornings, you wake in that certain mood. Good thing Steve's always on board. gn!reader, p in v, lazy morning sex

drunk call Just a sweet drunk voicemail, sfw :D

take the picture Steve makes you a deal. You take the photo correctly and he'll make you cum, over and over and over. afab!reader, mean!steve, photos taken during sex, p in v

you know how much i love you, right? (popular!) You aren't liberal with your i love you's. Unless, of course, it's when your hand is curled around Steve's cock, watching how he falls apart as you coo praise at him. gn!reader, handjob

loud prompt: JOY, sender getting louder than usual which makes receiver start laughing affectionately,  taking the opportunity to check in. fem!reader, p in v, pussy-drunk steve :)

what do you need? (popular!) prompt: CLOSE, sender wrapping their arms around receiver who is on top after they’ve finished,  holding them close against their chest with their face hidden in their neck while they recover. fem!reader, p in v, reader takes longer to cum

shy baby prompt: COAX, the dominant partner gently moving the shy or overwhelmed submissive’s hands from covering their face so they can kiss them, breathing praises against their skin. afab!reader, p in v, sweetness

stay still, won't you baby? prompt: CONTROLLED, receiver stops stimulating sender and tells them the have to be still if they want to continue. subby!steve, gn and teasing reader, handjob

look at me prompt: GAZING, receiver taking sender’s jaw and saying “look at me” during sex or foreplay. fem!reader, p in v, lovey dovey :)

thick thighs (save lives) You're squirming and Steve can't figure out why - til he does. afab!reader, steve eats r out, fingering.

lakeside make-outs. Balmy makeouts in Steve's car. afab!reader, making out.

sweet revenge. / continuation from this thought Steve enacts his revenge. fem!reader, p in v, almost mean!steve, exhibitionism.

steve harrington loves all boobies. You think your boobs are too small. Steve does not. fem!reader, making out, sweetness.

welcome home traditions / based off this thought You and Steve have a habit of having some kind of sex up against the door when one of you has been away. This time is no exception. gn!reader, r gives steve a blowjob.

let me take care you. (popular!) You ask Steve if anyone's ever taken care of him before and when he says no, you show him what he's been missing. gn!reader, handjob, bitta thigh & tummy worship, almost sub!steve too.

2am (popular!) Early morning rides, with sticky kisses and even stickier thighs. afab!reader, riding, p in v, super-disgustingly in love smut.

kitchen counters (kisses and more). Prompt used: “I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?” fem!reader, fucking against the counter, p in v

wet as a dream (popular!) Prompt used: "When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?" fem!reader, facesitting, soft in love & obsessed wth each other smut.

king steve, brought to his knees. Steve asks you out thinking it'll be an easy fuck — not knowing you're not that type of girl. You're the type of girl who likes to hear her men whimper. fem!reader, exhibitionism, public sex, king!steve, p in v, r mocks/teases steve, sorta mean!reader.

if you're sure. You're a little worried about pushing Steve. He assures you that you aren't. no pronouns but r has breasts.

demonstrate. You ask Steve to show you just how he likes to be touched. gn!reader, r gives steve a handjob.

sweet talk. (popular!) / sour talk. / third part still coming! series. afab+fem!reader. You're interested in your boyfriend's history- well, more like what he used to do that made the stories about King Steve in bed spread like wildfire during school. You find out for yourself.

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝙏𝙧𝙮𝙣𝙖 𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙑𝙤𝙞𝙙

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends to Lovers, Exes to Best Friends, Hinted Exes to Lovers

Warnings: Mentions of physical harm to y/n (bruises).

Word count: 577

PART 2 HERE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 「11:37pm」 - 30 days or more was the minimum. That was the agreement made to ensure there were no hard feelings. Once the distance grew, you knew there was no going back. But you never really forget how someone makes you feel.

He had driven to your location to pick you up from an event being held by major Guild Masters. Wrong number. Right time, you figured as you could've swore it was a cab service you called and not his personal phone number.

Mentally cursing yourself as you stood beside him in the rising elevator, that bottle of gwasilju nears its end in your system.

"I already told you I called you by accident." You insist as he walks you to his familiar apartment front door.

Jinwoo's lips go flat while unlocking it, leading you inside. "Accident or not, I wasn't going to leave you there alone. You called, I came."

It was obvious he was worried about you. He managed to bring a jacket to wrap around you and some slides for your feet as he predicted they'd hurt by the end of the night. Habits like these were hard to break.

Much like him getting you a glass of water, fresh washcloths and towels, and one of his shirts to sleep in.

"Jinwoo, I'm serious. You don't need to do all this. I'm fine." You glance up to the ceiling. "It's not their fault I wondered off."

"Regardless, you're here now, so just ease up a bit."

He's always been so stubborn when it came down to you. You nod, stumbling somewhat to the bathroom, him not far behind you. Gently, he took your hand, sitting you down on the rim of the bath tub, massaging cleansing oil onto your face.

Jinwoo knew better, but he couldn't shake you. Your presence reminds him of a simpler time.

He continued your nightly routine, him leading you to his bedroom where your clothes were. "If you want, I'll sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, Jin, I just...this is hard on us both."

Right. Just months ago, you and him did this same song and dance. It wasn't fair how both your duties as hunters found precedence over what was once shared. He's snapped out of his thoughts as you began changing, not bothering to tell him to look away.

"It doesn't have to continue like this - what is that?" His question plummeted swiftly like a guillotine's blade.

You didn't budge, pulling his shirt over your head. "It's nothing. You know I'm careless."

"I won't ask again. Who did that to you?" He approaches you from behind, fingertips barley making contact as you wince. Purplish blue watercolor lined your ribs, tender to the touch, causing you to flinch.

"Let's just say it was a physical disagreement between guild members." You let out a harsh breath. "If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy."

"That's not funny y/n....you've probably had this for weeks, and you weren't going to tell me?"

"And tell you what, Jinwoo? The last thing on my mind was to go crying to you about my problems. You're not my boyfriend anymore." You choke back a lump in your throat upon exit of your sentence. His shirt now draped over your body. "No contact. That was the deal."

"Fuck the deal!" A line appears between Jinwoo's brows. "I never stopped caring."

That was it. The linchpin.

"...What?"

Please comment, like, and reblog if you enjoyed it

[aeliuss]

Zhongli being afraid to make love to you because even though its been thousands of years since the Archon war, he still feels like he just has so much blood on his hands.

He's had sex plenty of times before you, sure. Six thousand years is a long time, and there's almost nothing he hasn't tried already. But that was just fucking. But with you, its different. He swears he has never loved like this before, that he's been alive for six thousand years but this is the first time he is truly alive.

So when he walks you home that night and drops you off, that's all he has planned. There's an ache in the pit of his stomach but he ignores it. He doesn't even give you a kiss goodbye like he usually does. He's that afraid that he's going to snap and do something he knows he's going to regret.

But as he turns to leave, there's a tug at his coat, so startling that he turns around immediately.

"Stay?"

And that's how he ends up sitting on the edge of your bed, with you straddled on his lap. He wants you. He wants you so bad it physically hurts. How could he not want you when you're looking down at him with that look in your eyes, fingertips grazing his cheek?

But he can't.

"Tell me what's wrong." Your whisper is soft, inviting. He leans into your touch, lips grazing the tender skin of your inner wrist. He can feel you shiver and his pupils dialate before he can help himself.

"I'm," He closes his eyes, restraining himself, but also bracing himself for the confession, "afraid "

"Of me?"

"Of being unraveled by you. Of you seeing all I have to bear and finding me...unsightly."

And there it is. The ugly confession sits in the air between you two and he grimaces at your silence.

" 'li," Your voice is soft, fingers running down his arms and intertwining with his. "Look at me."

He does. There is so much love in your eyes that he almost crumbles into dust at your feet, serves you that way.

"Show me your claws and I will show you hands ready to bleed."

His heart swells to an embarrassing size at your words and it takes everything in him to slow himself down, to lean up until his lips are ghosting over your own, until you are sharing the same breath, but not quite touching.

"Allow me," his hot breath fans your lips. "Allow me this, then."

As soon as you nod, his lips are on yours, fingers slipping from your own and resting at your hips. Your sighs are so pretty against his lips and you taste so sweet. His gloved hands are moving on their own accord, running up your spine and all he knows is your hands in his hair and that he wants to stay like this forever, worshipping the only person who makes him feel like a worshiper rather the a God.

And then you're underneath him and he's kissing you in a different way. Kissing you like this is his last day alive and your his only salvation, like he's been starving for life and for love and he's never known it could feel this good, like he's never felt anything but hunger and he doesn't know how to pace himself.

He mouths down your throat, the curve of your collarbone, amber eyes meeting your own in question before he removes any peice of your clothing. Your arching your back, nodding yes yes, can't he tell you've wanted this for so long?

And when that moment finally does come, he whispers into your ear that he has loved you since the dawn of time, tells you that he'll go slow, he knows its your first time and it might hurt a little at first.

You whimper as he eases himself into you, the mere tip of him stretching you in a way you've never experienced before.

"Relax," he murmers, nudging your cheek gently with his nose, gently kissing the spot under your ear. "Being tense is only going to make it worse."

And you try, you really do, relaxing as he rubbed circles on the soft skin of your inner thigh. But every time he starts to move again, you tense right back up.

" I-i cant," You whine, pressing against him, eyes watering. "Its too much."

He hums against the skin of your throat. "I know, darling. You can take a bit more, you're doing so well for me."

And you do, you take him inch by inch, until his balls are flush against your ass and he's singing praises into your ear, his breath hitching every time he makes you laugh because the way you clench around him when you do makes him want to go feral.

He waits for your permission to move, and when he does, he takes it slow. He makes sure you feel every crevice, every vein scraping against your walls. You're a mewling mess beneath him, and your taking him so well, urging him to go faster once you adjust. It isn't long before you come undone for him, and he right after you.

He knows he can go again, he wants to, but your poor legs are already quivering as he's slowly pumping in and out of you, riding out your high. Its too soon to succumb you to his high sex drive, so he holds himself back, instead keeping himself buried deep inside of you and holding you close to his chest.

"You're holding back on me," You breathe, gasping when he shifts slightly inside of you. "I know you are."

His deep chuckle sends vibrations down your spine as he presses kisses down the back of your neck. "You are not yet ready for that, I think."

You have no idea.

[inquisimer]

Helloo happy Friday! For Arlow/Lucanis how about "Please tell me I don’t look as bad as I feel"?

this went... slightly left of my original intention, which means it went sightly left of the prompt, as well - but here we are! ty for the prompt friend <3

Arlow de Riva/Lucanis | 990 words | @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers | a direct follow on from this earlier prompt fill

-

“You left on your own.”

Arlow didn’t look up from her coffee when Lucanis spoke. She’d been staring blankly through the steam, thinking and waiting. Thinking about what Viago said, and waiting for Lucanis to find her. Because she’d known he would—it hadn’t even taken as long as she’d thought it would. He must have noticed her absence right away.

That should make her happy. But it couldn’t—not with her Talon’s warnings haunting her thoughts. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard instead.

“The night just caught up to me and I beelined for the Eluvian,” she lied. “Sorry—I should have told you.”

Lucanis hummed. “The night caught up with you, hm? So it had nothing to do with how angry Viago looked when he left?”

Arlow’s stomach twisted and she cracked one eye open. “He actually looked angry?”

“Mhm. Something must have gotten quite under his skin, if he didn’t bother keeping it locked down in front of the Talons.”

Arlow dropped her forehead to her knees with a groan. Lucanis perched on the coffee table in front of her chair and pulled her coffee from her hands. Her palms felt the evening chill only briefly before he’d replaced the warm ceramic with his hands, thumbs soothing gentle circles over her knuckles.

“Talk to me,” he murmured. “I thought—well, things did go as well as I could have expected. And you were magnificent. I can’t imagine what Viago took issue with.”

Arlow almost laughed. He had no idea how right he was—he couldn’t imagine. She didn’t particularly want to tell him, either. Not only because she thought Viago was wrong, but because even if he was, she knew the fact that he had thought it would plant a seed of doubt in Lucanis. One he neither needed nor deserved.

She lifted her head with a sigh. Lucanis’ eyes swept over her and she felt her tears return at the naked concern there.

And Viago thought he was using her. Damn him.

“Arlow…” Lucanis’ brow furrowed; a dark undercurrent lined his voice. He reached out and traced the line of her cheek, from the corner of her eye to her jaw. His thumb lingered at the side of her chin and Arlow knew what he was seeing: thumb and finger-shaped bruises, just darkening. “Who put their hands on you?”

Arlow shook her head. “That’s from fighting Illario, I’m sure.”

“Please do not lie to me.” Lucanis’ fingers were stressfully gentle as he tilted her face, forcing her to look at him even though she barely felt the pressure against her tender skin. “It’s a little insulting, frankly, that you think I spent a full dance staring at your face and wouldn’t have noticed.”

“They’re bruises. They probably hadn’t formed yet.”

He raised an unimpressed brow at her and she sighed. But also pursed her lips together. Lucanis dropped his hand back to hers, jaw working around what he wanted to say.

“I understand if you want to defend him,” he finally said, “but then defend him. Do not hide from me, cara mia.”

Arlow’s shoulders drooped. “That obvious, huh? I’m losing my edge.”

“It was not such a stretch. If anyone other than Viago had touched you, there would have been blood. Either from your blades, or his. So,” Lucanis leaned forward, cinnamon and leather conditioner invading her senses, “what did he take issue with?”

“With you,” Arlow sighed, dropping her forehead against his. Even if she wasn’t exhausted and hurting, she’d never stood a chance to keep this from him. “You and me, and public displays of affection, and the implications.”

As she’d feared, Lucanis stiffened with every word. She pushed her fingers through his hair, a comfort for them both.

“Did you tell him that we talked about this?”

“No. He’s not worried about what we discussed.” Arlow pressed a soft kiss to Lucanis’ furrowed brow. “I’m going to tell you this,” she said quietly, “but first I want to say: we fought because I do not agree with him. Remember that?”

Lucanis nodded mutely.

“Viago thinks you are using our house to shield House Dellamorte from an internal coup.”

Arlow felt Lucanis’ sharp intake of breath, both against her face and in the tension at his shoulders. She stroked useless comfort at the nape of his neck.

“I really thought we were on better terms than that.”

“His personal opinion of you probably has very little to do with it. Viago is paranoid,” Arlow said bluntly. “And a cynic. Has been as long as I’ve known him. I don’t believe him,” she repeated, clasping Lucanis’ cheek and holding his gaze steady as she did. “And I told him as much.”

An unexpected smile ticked at the corner of Lucanis’ mouth. “Fighting with your Talon? Not your wisest move.”

“Pissing off Viago is an art form that I’ve perfected,” Arlow said. “It just so happens that he pissed me off back—that’s when things get messy between us. Anyway,” she nudged his nose with hers, “You’re a Talon, now. Are you saying that if Viago kicked me out, I’d have nowhere to go?”

Lucanis groaned. “Do not repeat that where Viago can hear you. He’ll think I’m trying to poach you.”

“I guarantee you he already thinks that. And don’t dodge the question.”

“You know I would have you in my house in a heartbeat,” Lucanis murmured. If he heard the double entendre, neither of them mentioned it. “But I don’t think that’s what you want. And, for the record—” he pushed her hair back where it had fallen from the twisted crown, tenderly tucking it behind one pointed ear “—I would never do what he’s suggesting without speaking to him. And you, but certainly him.”

Arlow smiled, ignoring just how much his words eased her heart, and leaned down to kiss him. “That’s what I told him,” she said against his lips.