#that does not smell like they care that much

[dissapointu]

hello! just read your sevika works and WOW, I love the way you write her so much!

whenever you have time could you dabble in some sort sevika? something like; having a bath together, or just bathing her, and she ends up crying because she's never felt anything like this before, ty!! ❤️❤️

OH. MY. GOD. FIRST OF ALL??? THANK YOU??? You have no idea how much that means to me 😭😭 Sevika stans are elite, I don’t make the rules. Second of all, yes, I will absolutely dabble in this for you because the image of Sevika just breaking down in a tub is so real that I had to write it out-

____________________________________________

Okay, so picture this:

Sevika’s never been one for softness, right? Like, she’s all sharp edges, clenched fists, and an unshakable poker face that screams, “Don’t even think about it.” But somewhere along the line, you weaseled your way into her heart (as one does), and now you’re in her life, showing her what it’s like to actually let someone take care of her.

So, you convince her to let you help her clean up after another long day of getting her hands dirty for Silco’s operations. She’s stiff at first, sitting in the tub with her back straight like she’s on a battlefield instead of in a warm bath. You gently pull her mechanical arm off (and she HATES letting people do that for her, but for you? She just grumbles and lets it happen).

You grab a sponge, lather it up with soap that smells way too nice for someone as rugged as her (but she secretly loves it), and start washing her back. You’re so careful around her scars, like you’re afraid of hurting her, and that’s when she starts to lose it. Her shoulders tense, and she tries to keep up the tough act, but then you start running your fingers through her hair to rinse out the grime, and—boom. Waterworks.

She doesn’t even know why she’s crying at first, but she just leans forward, her hands covering her face as her chest heaves with these messy, gut-wrenching sobs. And you’re just THERE, holding her head against your chest and murmuring things like, “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

It hits her all at once: no one’s ever treated her like this before. Like she’s worth this kind of care, this kind of tenderness. She’s always been the one cleaning up other people’s messes—patching them up, fighting their battles. She’s never had anyone do it for her. And now she doesn’t know how to handle it.

When she finally calms down, her voice is so raspy and low when she mutters, “I don’t deserve this.” But you just shush her and kiss her temple, promising that she’s more than earned it, and she just… sits there in the bath, letting herself believe it for the first time in her life.

TL;DR: Sevika’s a big, tough baby who cries the second you show her the tiniest bit of unconditional love, and honestly, same. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[retroaria]

♡ "All the little things..."

⟡ itoshi rin | oliver aiku | michael kaiser ⟡

summary: gn!reader, things that they’d look for/love in a partner! pure fluff! (i do describe something as ‘sexy’ but it really isn't that serious)

˗ˏˋ written for arias 1.5k follower event! ˎˊ˗

he’d never admit it, but rin would want a partner who can take him down a few notches. someone to calm his nerves and balance out his animosity. he can come to you at the end of every match and immediately release all tension and frustration. but also, someone to ground him and his ego a bit off the field. someone who can remind him to take things slowly and relax when he can and should.

he’s secretly very attracted to kindness. it’s a weird thing to be secretive about but rin is a weird guy what can i say. it makes his heart flutter to see you treating others with such grace, it even tugs a small smile at the corners of his lips which he quickly tries to pull back down into his usual blank expression.

rin tends to be a more private person himself, and he likes others that can keep their peace in that same way. he wouldn’t want to tell the whole world about your relationship, not because he wants to keep you a secret, but because he feels like you’re relationship is even more special the more it exists only to serve the two of you. he likes the idea of having you all to himself.

as a runner up for sassiest man of the year (lost to kaiser lol), oliver tends to find that same snappiness attractive in other people as well. he loves someone who can speak their mind and be confident about it, someone who can stand their ground and not let themselves be belittled. he thinks it’s hot, sexy even.

he likes people that are more outgoing then he is. while oliver doesn’t usually shy away from any fun, he can tend to back out of things because he feels it may be “too much” or an over exertion. he wants someone who can push him out of his comfort zone and get him to try new things that he wouldn’t have otherwise done on his own.

out of the whole cast, oliver is probably one of the most comfortable in his own masculinity methinks. he loves doing self-care and other beautification rituals (lol) with you! would let you do his eyebrows, dye his hair, make him smell like a strawberry shortcake; he fucking loves it. “Can’t turn down a bit of TLC and relaxation” he’d say. he totally does call a lot of it “goop” and “slime” or “sticky stuff” and can only remember to categorize it by color. “Babe, come feel my face, that pink goopy stuff made it so soft.~”

similar to mr. aiku, kaiser also loves a bit of sass in his partners, in a more subtle way though. sarcasm and brutally honest humor make him wanna bark like a dog. he loves it. he’s like the girl in a romance manga that falls in love with the cold and stoic upperclassmen. wants to break your hard exterior, but also wants to be the only person who ever could.

he loves being on the receiving end of ‘acts of service’. if that’s your love language, he’s all for it. he already thanks you just for putting up with him on a daily basis - considers that an act of service lol. making him food or planning a date for him would make his heart swell to the point of explosion.

physical and emotional intimacy need to be a huge priority for him. similarly to how rin likes things to just be between him and his partner, kaiser also needs certain things to be private, though he's more than happy to let the whole world know you're the person he loves. as long as he gets to have those quiet tender moments with you, wrapped in each others arms, he's a happy boy.

dividers: @cafekitsune vv cute :3 | header by me !!

@bllk-tv

[vampiresbloodx]

Devour me whole.

pairings: vi x reader

warnings: smut, masturbation, service top!vi, switch!reader, angst with feelings, friends with benefits, overstimulation, sex toy use, strap on, teasing, gender neutral!reader, yearning

You were pissed. 

It was past three am and Vi promised this time to be home at least at twelve the latest, but no. Three hours have gone by quicker than you'd liked as you sit on her bed waiting for her, you realise there’s no point anymore. 

You should have left ages ago, you don’t know why you do this to yourself, waiting around for someone who doesn’t think about you unless she’s inside of you. You were just a quick fun for her, for anyone really, for a while you didn’t mind, you enjoyed it, the attention, the looks, how they loved your body, the people you’ve slept with and none of them have quite been like Vi. 

It was a one night stand how you met her, it was the best fuck that you’ve ever had in so long, you have experienced both men and women and you’d definitely pick women now more than ever. 

Vi was perfect, she’d always listen to you, even after you two fucked, take care of you if she was being a bit rough, you were always good with the whole no strings attached thing, yet here you were caught in a web of your own lies that you created. You don’t want to leave her place but you should, you don’t want to make things worse if she was in a bad mood, you know she’s been winning at the pit fights she’s been going to nonstop as of late. She's a good fighter and really skilled with her hands. 

God you missed her so much. 

You missed how she touched you, how gentle yet strong she feels, her hand wrapping around your throat, touching you slowly to torment you, teasing you constantly, knowing how bad you need it. 

“Fuck it” you muttered, beginning to strip on Vi’s bed, taking off your shirt and sweats, you went to grab a box underneath her bed where she hides all the toys she uses, and you grab her personal favourite she likes to use on you, her pink long dildo, the amount of times she’s made you cum on that thing. 

With how worked up you already felt, you didn’t even need to know just how wet you are, you laid back down onto her blanket, the smell of her scent lingering in her room overwhelms you. Easy enough, you were able to slip the dildo inside your pussy, starting to pump in and out, you moaned, your other free hand groping your tits the way she would. Your pace became faster the more you thought of her and what she’d do to you, you’ve always wanted to be caught by her, seeing the surprise in her eyes to see her good girl disobeying her in her own room. 

And then the door swung open. 

You were so fucking close, the pleasure building up more and more, your chest heaving, god you must have looked pathetic. 

Vi stood at the end of the bed, watching you, she was caught off guard by this, but she knew you were most likely annoyed with her as she was late tonight, later than she promised. She felt bad, she was going to make it up to you because she cares about you, she really does. 

She hasn’t told you how she feels about you yet. 

You gasped when you saw her standing above you, in her black leather jacket and ripped jeans with chains hanging off of them, how good she looks, makes you more wet. 

“Don’t stop,” she murmurs, her voice sending a chill down your spine as you feel her hands on your knees, forcing your legs to stay open, her eyes never leaving yours. “Show me how much this pussy needs me.” 

You whined, pushing the strap deeper as deep as you can go, your back arching from the bed, you whimpered, your moans becoming louder as you fuck yourself harder. 

It was only when you were reaching the breaking point, vi’s hands wrapped around yours, taking it out that easily, your juices covered in it as you whimpered, watching her lick it clean. 

She throws it over the bed and leans down, a single lick to your cunt causes you to break almost immediately, your body reacts before you could even think. 

“Please” you begged, your eyes meeting her stare, her gaze filled with lust and want. “Please, vi.”

She grins, enjoying this way too much as you are too. She's focused on you now, that's all you've wanted, all her attention on you and only you. She places her hands on your thighs, gripping them as she licks up your pussy, devouring you whole. 

She makes you cum over and over, till your shedding tears, your cheeks wet, your body exhausted, fucked out, and she's taking her sweet time pleasuring you, that's all she wanted to do, make you feel good, make you hers. 

She never wanted to get rid of the taste of you. 

Ever.

[revelboo]

Please, more Jazz 🙏🙏 it's one of my favourite storyline of yours, and I honestly love jazz so much, the nicknames are doing things to me 🫡

Don't feel pressured tho, take care of yourself. You're the best! 😋

I’m good. Just slow down when I write long form rather than these quick fics

Over It Now Pt 13

IDW Jazz x Reader

• Spreading out the blanket on the grass in the shade of the pin oak, he fidgets with the pillows he’d taken from the furniture on your porch. Satisfied, his attention turns back to your house. Watching your shadow moving around in the kitchen, as he heads back to the house and waits. When you finally open the door, you’ve got a tote bag in your fist as you awkwardly shuffle out the door with your crutches. Not even protesting when he reaches to pick you up and carry you across the grass to that pile of pillows.

• When he’d asked if you’d share a meal with him, it had seemed so silly to you. Knowing neither of you can eat what the other does, but he’d looked so serious when he asked. Not smiling like he’s teasing you and that’s what had made you agree. There’d been something real and vulnerable in that request. It’s chilly outside even with your jacket and you shiver as he settles you in the midst of what you’re certain is every decorative pillow and cushion that had been on your porch. “Thanks,” you say, reaching to touch his servos as he nudges a pillow closer and sets your crutches aside.

• “Surprised at how domestic I am, doll?” He asks, flashing a grin as he sits with a leg outstretched and the other drawn up, that little touch spreading warmth through him. Waiting until you unpack your strange smelling human food before reaching for his own energon cube.

• He’s sipping at that glowing goop, and you can see the mesh of his throat working as he swallows. Reminding you that even if he’s metal, he’s alive. It’s not like you haven’t known he wasn’t just a machine for a long time now, but it strikes you every now and then. “Just surprised you’re behaving,” you counter as you pick at your food, very aware of that visor flaring slightly. That he’s watching you eat with open curiosity to make you feel self conscious.

• “Nah.” Watching you shiver and huddle into your coat, he’s leaning forward. Picking you up plate and all, and settling you on his thigh against his frame as you inhale. “I have a reputation to maintain.” Servos lingering against you, he waits for you to get mad. But it’s your turn to surprise him by leaning into him. It’s only that he’s warmer than you are and he knows it, but that little show of trust throws him off balance.

• “The lying,” you say as you take a bite and he stiffens against you. Immediately on guard making you almost let it go. But that’s you, always unable to leave well enough alone. “You want to talk about it?”

• “Nothing to talk about.” He’s smiling still, but it feels brittle as one of his servos gently taps against your ribs. Wants you to let it go, don’t push. Don’t ruin this for him, because he just wanted to share a quiet moment with you. A little peace. Because the truth is that he doesn’t know how not to lie anymore. Playing spy, wearing a smiling, harmless face to hide how awful he really is underneath. Smiling instead of screaming at the things he’s been forced to do throughout the war. Things that haunt his recharge. That’s why he needs this, needs you. Your innocence reminds him of who he’d been and what he’d lost. And protecting you so you don’t end up broken and bitter like he is? It’s everything. “I’m just a liar, doll.”

Previous

[neuvilette-tea-party]

₊ ˙ ⊹ Mon coeur, mon coeur don't cry₊ ˙ ⊹

Neuvilette x F!reader

You shudder in pain in your bed when your husband comes home to take care of you

Tags : hurt and fluff, periods pain, Neuvilette is a soft king, uses of "maman"

You curl up in bed and whistle in pain. 

Those damn periods! 

You shiver as another wave of pain and nausea comes shaking your body. You are absolutely miserable right now!  

“Mon amour?” You suddenly feel a gloved hand brushing a strand of hair off your face, “Are you all right?” 

You weakly open your eyes to discover Neuvilette looking at you with concerned eyes, caressing your temple and cheek. His long strands of white hair frame his delicate face as the light accentuates the violet color of his eyes. 

You growl, pulling on the cover. 

“My periods...  could not go to work today...” You manage to say between gritted teeth, pressing your knees against your chest in a desperate attempt to soothe the pain and tense muscles at least a little bit. 

His hand cups your cheek softly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he tilts his head. 

“Does it hurt so much, mon coeur?” He inquires, his worries identifiable in the soft tone. 

“It’s like a machine blending my organs!” You push your head in the pillow, tears behind your eyes. 

He leans forward to let a soft kiss on your temple, savoring the sensation of your skin against his lips. 

“Stay here.” He orders, standing back up. 

You look at him exiting the bedroom in silence before closing your eyes, swallowing back the torrent of curses at the gates of your lips. How liberating it would feel to scream them at the top of your lungs but Neuvilette’s delicate ears would be scarred forever! 

You shiver once more as the pain decides to head toward your lower back. It’s only 7 days, get it together! 

It’s only seven days... 

It’s only 7 days but holy Hydro dragon those are long, rough 7 days! 

You sigh lamenting for yourself, thinking about the earful you will receive at work tomorrow... You reopen your eyes at a delicious smell and the bed tipping. Neuvilette came back with a tray with a fuming hot chocolate with some Viennoiseries on a plate and a glass of clear, fresh water.  

“Sit down if you can, mon coeur.” He gently orders. 

You wince, trying to sit down, taking support on the pillows, and making yourself as comfortable as possible with your periods. You manage with more or less success. Once you are set you try to smile at him and not just wince unelegantly. 

Neuvilette smiles back gently and slips a pill into the glass of water that he hands to you. You sip the effervescent painkiller trying not to gag at the bitter taste of the medication, but the fresh water makes up for it. A water specifically chosen by your dragon lover, obviously. 

You finish the glass and Neuvilette puts the tray on your knees for you to feast on. You bite down the pastries and gulp down a big sip of chocolate with glee, getting a little enthusiasm back. He looks at you eating your only food of the day with a tender expression before opening the dresser to take out your fluffy plaid that he lays on you and a hot water bottle that he goes to fill and heat up. You sigh of pleasure when he lifts the cover to slide the hot water bottle inside and lay it on your upset lower tummy. 

“Thanks the Hydro...” You mumble. 

“I am here, mon coeur.” He shoots you a mischievous smile, “No need to pray for me, I am solely focused on you.” 

You feel your cheeks heating up and dive your gaze into the fuming chocolate cup. You are used to dating the Hydro dragon of Fontaine, but old habits die hard.  

“I called your workplace, mon amour. Your entire week is free.” He placidly announces, tucking you in bed correctly. 

Your bite almost goes the wrong way. 

“An entire week?!” You choke. 

He raises an eyebrow at you like he doesn’t understand. 

“You are not one to miss work for a simple cold, mon coeur. It looks worse than usual, you should rest and mend.” 

“I just have my periods, it doesn’t matter that I bleed to death, I have to be here!” You bitterly fight back. 

“No, you do not.” He simply closes the matter, “They were very understanding when I called them. You can stay in bed and rest.” 

“Of course they were compliant, you are the Iudex!” 

He sniggers, booping your nose playfully.  

“What good is my title for if I cannot even help mon doux amour during her time of distress?” 

You melt before his tender expression, abdicating entirely before him and- 

“MAMAN?!” A little girl’s voice resonates suddenly, making you both jump out of your skin. 

Horrified and trembling, Sigewinne stands in the doorframe, looking at you like you were dying in front of her. 

“Maman, are you okay?! We could smell blood from the garden!” She cries. 

“She is alright, Sigewinne. We are both here to take care of maman.” Neuvilette comforts her. 

She sobs hard and rush to you. Neuvilette has just the time to grab her to stop her as she helplessly extends her arms to you. 

“Maman is very sensible and uncomfortable right now. Be careful alright?” He explains. 

She turns her head to him and nods frankly, promising to be good. He releases her and she crowls in the bed to sit next to you, hugging one of your arms as you finish your cup and viennoiseries. 

“Go back to sleep, mon coeur. The painkiller will soon soothe you.” He kisses your forehead before taking your empty tray, and putting it on the bedside table. You wriggle your way under the blankets with a relieved sigh, followed by sweet Sigewinne, letting her snuggle against you. Neuvilette skirts the bed and slides under the covers with you, not even taking off his pricey jacket, and he hugs you tight, caressing Sigewinne’s head gently. 

“Make yourself comfortable, mon amour. I will be here when you wake up.” He promises, kissing the back of your ear. 

You hug your adoptive daughter and the hot water bottle as Neuvillette’s tall body spoons yours gently, shielding you from the rest of the world and the pain. 

You take one of his hands in yours and he intertwines your fingers together; letting a low purr arise in the bedroom, lulling you to sleep and peace. 

At last... 

[honeyedclementine]

be more careful

sevika x f!reader, fluff, pre-s1, wound tending, assassin!reader, getting together (one shot, 2.1k words) ageless blogs, minors, and men dni

reply to be added to my tag list ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

content warnings: violence, blood

when silco needed someone taken care of, there were two options he had. sevika or you. sevika was all brawn, there to knock teeth out and leave a bloody heap of anyone who dared to cross silco. this approach had its benefits—fear mongering, for one, a show of force, for another. you however, were sent when silco needed something done quickly and quietly. you lingered in the shadows of his enemies, daggers pressed close to your skin, waiting for the right moment to strike.

so rarely does anything go wrong with you—you're one of the best in the business for a reason. most of silco's enemies and other players in the lanes don't even know you exist. you're good at what you do and you take pride in it.

it's late and you're on another mission—one that should be quick, you'll be back at the last drop before sunrise to report to the boss that you've done exactly what he asked. you linger in an alleyway, having trailed your target for blocks. you keep your footfalls light, the dust barely even shifting as you leap from shadow to shadow.

your first target gets a little too close to the mouth of the alleyway and you grin. a hand is quick to cover his mouth, muffling his gasp as you drag him into your shadow, dagger finding his throat swiftly. you know just where to cut so he can't scream—he can't do much of anything but lie there and choke on his own blood. you watch for a moment, mesmerized, before delivering the final blow and silencing him all together. someone from silco's crew will be by to clean him up, but for now, you turn your attention to your other target—his companion.

your hands go in your pockets, dagger alongside it as you pull your hood up over your head, trailing him through the lanes. he hasn't even noticed the death of his guard—a fool, you think to yourself.

he turns a corner and you strike, an arm around his neck dragging him backwards. lithe as you were, strength was still something you honed within yourself. years of fighting built up skill and force within you. you go to drive your dagger into his chest, but he grabs your wrist, fighting back. you bring your knee up against the small of his back, causing him to grown as your hold on him tightens.

your dagger gets close to his eye, about to drive it in, when he pulls something out of his sleeve, twisting his arm. your knife pierces his eye just as his sinks into your gut. you gasp, twisting your knife and watching him fall still. staggering, you yank your dagger out as he falls to the ground, one hand clutching the knife still sticking out of your gut. it's been a long time since you've been injured in the field and it never fails to shock you to your core every time.

with one hand clutching your injury, you wipe the blood from your own weapon onto your sleeve, tucking it back into place and heading towards the last drop to stitch yourself up. you just hope distantly that thieram replaced the strong whiskey you like for times like these.

it's a short walk, but it feels longer with the blood seeping slowly through your shirt, staining the dark fabric and spilling around your fingertips. the last drop will be closed at this hour, but you've taken care of yourself more times than you can count. it comes with the job.

the last thing you expect is to see sevika sitting at the bar, an empty glass of what you already know is her favorite whiskey. the ice hasn't even melted yet. she turns her head as you enter, a cigarillo hanging from her lips. the smell of the smoke is familiar to you, practically synonymous with the image of the woman you have in your head.

you and sevika weren't necessarily friends, but you weren't enemies either. she respected your job and you respected hers. however, she was never much for conversation and neither were you. even so, you were always a little fascinated with her. where you were lithe, hidden muscles, she wore her strength on her sleeve. her scars were all in plain view—whether it be the hextech blue lines on her cheek or the metal arm she adorned, any glance at her would tell someone she had been through some shit. you kind of envied her ability to be intimidating right off the bat. people weren't usually scared of you until it was too late for them.

"shit, what happened to you?" she asks, eyebrows raising slightly as she pulls the cigarillo from her lips and drops it into the ashtray beside her.

"got stabbed," you shrug, wincing at the flare of pain that shoots through your stomach as you push behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey along with the small med kit that's kept there.

"are you seriously going to stitch that up yourself?" she asks, sounding almost impressed.

"unless you're offering," a sigh falls past your lips, desperately biting back a whimper as you pull your hand away from the wound.

surprisingly, sevika rises to her feet. "come on."

she reaches across the bar, grabbing the medkit from your hands and nodding over to one of the booths in the back of the bar. you groan, not knowing if this is something you want to deal with right now. you don't need a helping hand, you just need to stitch yourself up and get the fuck to bed. the loss of blood is making you tired. even so, fighting with sevika is never worth it. so, you grab the bottle of whiskey and follow her.

it isn't until she has her flesh hand against your stomach and her mechanical hand gripping the hilt of the knife that you realize she's never touched you before. the thought hits you with a spark of curiosity, quickly subsided by her pulling the weapon out with no warning.

"gods, fuck," you curse, eyes scrunching closed as she lifts your shirt up your stomach, moving one of your hands to keep the fabric held. her metal hand is cold against your own.

she just looks at you, nodding to the whiskey. you sigh and take a swig, letting it burn your throat for a moment before she takes the bottle from your hand, pouring some of the alcohol over the wound and the needle.

"ugh, don't waste the good stuff, thieram will kill me," you groan, struggling to keep your wits about you. for some reason, you never considered the fact that sevika might be warm. maybe it was the metal hand that led you to believe otherwise, but her hand splayed against your stomach—large enough that it covers much more of your flesh than you thought, you note with a slight flush you'll blame on the blood loss—is irrevocably warm. maybe you're just starting to lose it, the slow caress of death weaning all logic and reason from your brain, but when you look up at sevika, backlit by the dim lights of the last drop, you think she's beautiful.

"stop staring at me, i'm trying to focus," sevika grumbles. the slight shade of embarrassment in her voice is enough to distract you from her sticking the needle into your wounded flesh. you clench up, a hand reaching for her wrist as if to stop her. her metal hand comes to your shoulder, gentler than you thought it would be, pushing you back down so she can work. "it's okay. gods, i can't believe you were going to do this yourself. you're being such a baby."

you scoff, "i'd like to see what you look like getting stitched up. my hands are much more nimble, i barely feel it when i do it."

"i'm sure," is all she says in response. despite your pain, you can't help but watch the gentle way she sews your torn flesh back together. the wound itself isn't too large, just deep. the jury is still out on whether or not he hit anything vital or caused any internal bleeding, but that'll be a surprise for later. the fact that you were on your feet long enough to get home tells you that it's probably fine.

when she's done stitching you up, she ties a not and cuts the thread of sutures with her teeth, something you watch with wide eyes. you've never looked at sevika with anything akin to attraction before—well, of course, you noticed she was attractive, it was hard not to—but it's never felt like this. maybe you're delirious, or maybe you're still feeling the adrenaline of the mission, but something feels different. it doesn't help that this is the first time the two of you were properly alone together. maybe that was all it took.

she watches you watch her for a moment, the tension in the room palpable. "be more careful next time. that could've been a lot worse."

you expect her to get up and leave, but instead, she starts cleaning up the blood surrounding the wound. for some reason, you assumed her mechanical arm didn't have the propensity for kindness. after all, the only time you had seen her use it was when she was beating the shit out of someone. yet, here she is, wiping up your blood with a soft caress, careful to avoid the fresh sutures to avoid causing you any more pain than you're already in.

"thanks," you finally find the word, feeling utterly breathless as you watch her. you sit up slightly, feeling the way your stomach groans at the movement. you let your hand holding your shirt drop, but sevika's flesh hand remains beneath it, resting against your flesh. your heartbeat picks up and this time, you're not sure you can blame it on the adrenaline of a fight long ended. "you didn't have to do that."

"i was here," she says, something stilted in her tone. her eyes dart to your lips and you wonder if she's having the same ideas you're having—the quiet surprise of seeing someone in a new light. her hand doesn't move from your skin and you hope it never does. "and i didn't feel like watching you try and do it yourself."

"never knew you to be so charitable," you huff, moving a little bit closer to her. your thigh brushes against hers, the barest touch sending electricity to every nerve in your body. a shiver runs down your spine as her hand moves, crawling slowly beneath your shirt and resting around your waist, tugging you slightly closer. you can feel her warmth—her warmth against you, breath fanning slightly against your chin as you look up at her. "i can blame this on the blood loss, what's your excuse?"

you tilt your head and she offers a small smile—not mocking, like they usually are coming from her, just a small tug of the corner of her lips, almost a smirk but not quite. "you just looked to sad and pathetic, i thought—"

"yeah, yeah, excuses," you roll your eyes, pressing forward slightly and capturing her lips in a kiss. part of you expects her to push you away, to write off the moment of fierce chemistry as nothing, but she kisses you back.

the kiss starts off gentle, but soon grows into something more desperate, fierce in its nature. her hand grips your waist, careful to avoid your wound, tugging you closer until you just cave and settle onto her lap. your hand cups her face, tracing the scars on her cheek as you gasp, her tongue using the opportunity to slip past the seam of your lips, exploring the inside of your mouth.

desire pools deep in your stomach, hips grinding softly against hers. after a moment, though, pain flares through your wound and you yelp, pulling away from sevika and burying your head against her shoulder, a shaky breath falling from your lips. funny, you had almost forgotten about that.

sevika's hand rubs against the small of your back, so gentle you almost don't know what to do with it. her metal fingers run through your hair as she turns, whispering in your ear, "why don't we raincheck this until you're a bit more sturdy?"

you let out a weak chuckle, the exhaustion of the fight and the injury finally starting to catch up to you. "promise?"

she chuckles, "yeah, promise."

with that, she helps you up to the spare room above the last drop. you bite your tongue when you think about asking her to join, but you can see in her eyes that she will eventually. after all, a promise is a promise.

tag list: @puppyels @njm63522

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about old Worst Wolverine being called by each of the X men individually after they have a falling out because Logan injured a child very badly to the point the only reason they didn't die is because another classmates healing abilities all while he just... walked away.

Well- ran.. away... leaving a child to die. He's tried to explain thousands of times that he blacked out, that he didn't remember doing any of this. He tries to say that maybe it was someone else, that mystique did this shit all the time in his universe.

"Yeah, well!? This isn't your universe! Because the REAL Logan would never do this.." Scott screams at him as Logan leaves the Mansion for the last time. He doesn't come back. He didn't even get to tell his Xkits goodbye. It got to the point where Laura dropped out, taking Gabby with her, wanting nothing to do with the school anymore.

So now, here he is. In Maine, an old fisherman, part-time hunter, and the only people he lets around him have healing factors.

He lives with Wade, who still- by the way- doesn't have any grey hairs (maybe because hes bald but- yk)

One night, while Logan is out, making himself feel useful by feeding the small town they're in, providing for more poor families, feeding their children's hungry mouths and asking nothing in return but respect. (It gets to the point that the children cheer when they see Logan, wanting to hug him, but he growls at them to get off, too afraid of hurting them) Wade finally awnsers the ringing phone.

"What." There's vemon in his tone, but soon his eyes widden, and he frowns.

Walking outside he stands there a moment, knowing Logan can hear him.

He ignores him, looking at the fish, litsening, his breathing slowing as he skewers some with his claws. Its not exactly spear fishing but- close.

"What?" His voice is almost annoyed, as if knowing what his long time Husband was about to ask him.

"Logan.."

"No."

"Logan-"

He shakes his head. "Don't care."

"...She's missing."

He pauses, turning after scraping the dead fish into a bucket. "Who's missing?"

"There's a little girl missing."

"So?"

"Logan!"

"I'm not helping them, Wade. That's final." He growls.

For a moment, Wade frowns, but he didn't learn to obey thy husband like the bible said.

He never did.

"Logan, there's a 6 year old out there. All alone. Cold. Probably going to be eaten by wolves!" He shouts from the back porch, knowing his place enough to stay here and not come near his fish. Even after all these years, Logan was still finicky over his food. "And all because some old fart won't help her!"

The silence thickened as Logan thought about it, the hero side of his brain yelling 'We'll find her!' And the hurt old part of him saying 'That's not my buisness.'

".. You find her then." He compromises.

"I can't! And if anyone knows those Canadian woods, it's you! You said you knew those forests like the back of your hand!" Wade protests. "If I could smell someone through miles of freezing snow, I would. But I can't. So here I am, asking The Wolverine to go do what he does best."

He grunts, glaring. "And that is?"

"Helping a little girl get back to her mommy..." Wade says, knowing that he was sold. He knew he was sold the moment he told him to do it himself. "She doesn't have much time, Logan." He sighs, putting a cherry on top.

The greyed man huffed, grumbling under his breath for a moment. "Who will stay here with the dog?"

"Gabby can! She loves gabs." Gott'em.

"What about Laura? Why can't she find her?"

Shit.

"Logan, Laura has barley been in those woods. You've lived in them for years. So. What will it be. Pull up your panties and go save a little girls life? Or do it anyway when our baby girl gets lost too?"

Logan scoffs, disappointed. "..She wouldn't get lost.."

"She would if the scent kept being blown away.."

Wade adds, seeing the 'god damn it, he's right.' look on the old mans brow.

He lets out a large sigh. "...I don't want any help."

"Oh well too fucking bad bucko, I'm gonna go pack my snow suit!"

"No! I mean... I don’t want any help from THEM.."

"No promises. I'm not letting poor Susie die just because you have a grudge. Now put your fish in the freezer and lets go! They're coming to pick us up-"

"I ain't flying!!" Logan snarls, watching as his lover ran off, having a deep feeling that he would be in the air shortly..

[comflexxed]

june stood frozen for a moment, his gaze caught on hans’ face and the softness in his voice. the words lingered in the air, cutting sharper than they should have. he could hear the uncertainty in hans’ tone, see it in the careful way he stirred the soup as though trying to keep his hands busy to avoid whatever he was feeling.

panic bubbling up inside of june. hans’ sadness only added fuel to the turmoil that had been churning in his chest since they stepped into the house, since clara opened the door with her easy familiarity, since sunny ran into her arms.

but what could he say? how could he explain the storm of emotions he was carrying — how much he wanted to stay, but also how deeply he feared being too much or, worse, not enough?

“no,” june said, his voice sharper than intended. he winced, shaking his head as he tried again. “i mean… no, hans, i don’t feel unwell.” he hesitated, his eyes flickering to the soup and then back to hans’ face. “and you don’t have to apologize. i’m really glad i’m here. i wanted to come.”

the words felt raw, like they were being dragged out of him. june’s hand tightened against the edge of the counter. he tried to steady his voice, but a hint of vulnerability leaked through. “i’m sorry if i seemed off. it’s not you, or sunny, or… any of this.” he gestured vaguely at the room, at the warmth of the space that had welcomed him so easily. “it’s me. i’m just not used to this, is all..” he swallowed, as if trying to push down all of the words he wanted to say.

instead, he offered a tentative smile, small but no less sincere. “the soup really does smells amazing. and i’d love to help set the table — if that’s okay.”

hans watched carefully for june’s reaction, wanting to make sure the soup they would have for dinner was as good as he could make it. it was their first dinner together at home, all three of them, and hans felt like it was important to make it perfect. memorable. as june commented, something about the cadence of his voice made hans pause. “i’ll let it simmer for a bit, and then it should be ready,” he said, eyes still on june as he mulled over whether he should ask or not. in the end, he did, asking, “hey, is everything okay? do you feel unwell?” 

he knew he had asked june earlier about dinner, and the response back at the fishing grounds was positive and even excited, but he wondered if, somewhere along the way, june had a change of mind. that’s the only logical explanation hans could come up with. that, or he was feeling unwell, which was no less worrying. 

the worry gnawed at him as he turned his eyes to the soup, watching it simmer slowly with the fire set low, a perfect metaphor for what hans felt at the moment. there was something that unsettled him, quietly simmering away and changing how he viewed everything. perhaps he had imposed too much on june, perhaps he felt like hans was laying his responsibilities as a father to him. 

was it the moment hans asked if he could help sunny send the fish back to the water? was it carrying their stuff into the car? out of it? he stirred the soup slowly, feeling a pit in his stomach that made the soup he was looking forward to seem unappetizing. perhaps it was none of it, but it was just simply too much. a single dad and a talkative daughter. it wasn’t for everyone to deal with every day. hans should know that by now. “you probably want to rest, it’s been a long day,” he said softly, a slow, sad smile painting his lips as he continued stirring. “it looks done now, i’ll set the table so we can eat... i’m sorry to have kept you this late.”

[isabeauwolf]

Ex Dabi x reader (x Hawks) - My World

It has been a few months since you two broke up.

You said you were done being a villain and out of Dabi's life.

You apprenticed under Giran as an information broker. The man picked you up off the street as a teenage run away and you never looked back. Well, until...

That. Nosy, goodie two-shoes, two-faced, hypocritical red winged chicken sunk his talons into you.

Stole you from him.

His doll. His woman.

Dabi's usually cool and carefree composure cracks every time he sees you with Japan's Number 2 Hero. His anger, rage and red hot jealousy burning like liquid fire in his veins as he feels his burnt, scarred and stapled jaw clenching and grinding; his free hand twitches and closes into a white knuckled fist.

Seeing you smile cutely. Blushing and giggling with earnest and genuine emotion in your doe-like eyes as the bastard's gloved knuckles brush the back of your cheek, shoving a soft lock of your hair behind your ear, gently cups your jaw and brings you into a kiss.

Dabi knows this faker was a double agent. Why couldn't you see that despite his warning? You usually have an incredible sense of reading people. How could you be so blind? Unable to see this lying heartbreaker through those rose tinted glasses.

Yes. Shigaraki and Giran had given you their permission to walk away, you no longer had a criminal record or it was deleted and destroyed by your hacker friend La Brava, who chose to support you in your career change.

Shigaraki, Giran, Toga, Twice, Mr Compress and hell, even Spinner missed you.

Dabi chose to watch from the shadows. No matter how much he hardened this heart, making himself go numb, shove the earth shattering pain and heartbreak down, masking it, locking it and burning the key with his blue hellfire flames.

Only when he was alone in his room at night did he breakdown every night, releasing silent screams into his pillow that still smelled like you. The one person who thawed his icy, horribly fragile, blackened, ash covered and twisted stitched back together heart.

Clutching the blue pillow to his chest as he cried bloody tears, shuddering and sobbing quietly and mentally remembering when you used to look at him like that. As if he was your whole world.

He should hate you with every fiber left in his soul, and yet... he couldn't... he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

Not even after you shattered his heart.

Dabi's eyes widen as more red, bloody tears covered and hazed his vision.

Seeing you look at Hawks made him second guess himself. Did you truly love him at all for this past year since he's joined the League?

Or were you only using him for information?

The more Dabi questioned himself and your relationship, the more his paranoia and mind began to unravel! No, no! You loved him. You said you did! You wouldn't have stayed by his side and nursed him back to health after he'd gotten sick and injured during a mission, if you didn't love him and didn't care. Right?

He thought about the last few weeks before you decided to break up.

"Touya?" You mumbled shyly while cuddling against his naked chest on his bed.

Touya hummed, opening an eye and glanced down at you, holding you close and the other arm underneath his head.

You opened your mouth and then closed it. You sat upright, dragging the sheet with you to cover your chest and frowned, "Do you... ever thing about the future... after the war is over? After you, Shigaraki and the rest of the gang have tore down Hero Society?"

Touya raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time you two had had this conversation. He reassured you that he would be all yours, whispering comforting words to try and soothe your fears. But this time felt different. "Doll, what's this really about?" He sat upright, tilting his head and cupping your cheek as tears spilled down your face and down his hand as he wiped them away. "Y/n?"

"I... I don't care... what happens to the world... I can't lose you.." You whimpered, salty droplets falling harder and faster as you sobbed and hiccuped. "I'm not... strong enough..."

Touya frowned and pulled you into his chest and into his lap. "Hey, hey, shush, I'm coming back, baby." It hurt him to see you like this. He rested his chin on top of your head as he held you tight and let you cry it out. "I can't leave my crybaby all alone in this shitty world, can I?"

You both knew it was a lie. You both held onto each other tightly as each others lifelines. Knew the clock was ticking, the closer it came to the boss' hibernation to gain more power.... it was only a matter of time before The Heroes would strike. Try to capture you both and lock you away forever.

There was no All For One or Overhaul, some other big baddies to distract the Heroes attention and escape routes, do-overs, resets, check points, it was all or nothing. The game will be going on auto pilot while the boss is sleeping and the NPC's, Allies, Enemies were all gathering their strength, training and preparing.

Sniffing once you had claimed down, you pulled away. "I love you, Touya Todoroki." You whispered, breathlessly.

Touya's eyes widened and his breath stilled, his heart thudding hard in his chest. That was the first time you ever said you loved him. There was no need to before, he knew you loved him from your actions alone. Words were cheap, actions spoke louder. You always whispered his old name so sweetly, like a secret, which it was. Only you were allowed to say it in private or during your love making and rough fucking in the sheets when everyone else was gone.

Your frown deepened. "I said, I love you... aren't you going to say it back?" You fiddling with your hands, showing how nervous you were.

Touya blinked, he couldn't voice his answer. He knew that a world without you would be hollow and empty. He felt half mad and worried when you were out gathering intel and groceries for The League in a disguise since you weren't well known, but the more paranoid part of him couldn't risk it.

Your hair covered your face and you started to crawl off his lap, bottom lip trembling. "Sorry.. sorry for bother-"

Touya cut you off, leaning forward, smashing his mismatched lips with your own and pushing your back against the mattress. You gasped and moaned into the kisses as he poured all of his love, feelings, heart and passion into it. He couldn't tell you yet, not yet. Instead, he would use his body, his hands, his fingers all of him into showing you. Using his scarred, burnt and broken body as an instrument to use to pleasure you, to protect you.... you; his too kind-hearted doll. He made love to you again, more tender and gentle, forcing orgasm after orgasm from your body, and greedy for more.

Dabi shook his head, furiously wiping away and painting his cheeks red from his tears as he scowled. He replayed the day you two broke up in his head as his hands tightening into the pillow.

Anger and fury resurfacing as you had just finished talking with Shigaraki about something. He didn't like not knowing what. You were always stupidly and annoyingly over excited to share your new assignment or information with him after telling the boss.

Your smile dropped as soon as you turned back to face him. "Hi, Dabi." Your frown deepened as you glanced at your feet.

Dabi's eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. Something was wrong. You hadn't been this nervous and shy since he first joined The League. "What's wrong, "V/n?"

You bit your lip and swallowed. "Can I... talk to you in private?"

Dabi walked towards you, his movements slow and intimidating as he towered over you. His presence usually smoothed you and comforted you, but now you were cowering before him. "We are alone right now. Talk." His voice calm, but a hint of ice in it. Backing you up against the cold, hard concrete wall behind you as he pressed his hard chest against your own, arms rising and boxing you in on either side of your head. "C'mon, my little doll. Tell your boyfriend the truth like a good little girl and maybe... maybe I'll go easy on you." He cooed darkly, lips curling into a wolfish and hungry grin, you knew he'd keep his dark promises.

He knew you loved his twisted praises.

Your breath hitched and you shivered against him, cheeks heating.

Your eyes met his own as he gently gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I-.."

His mouth ghosting over your own, this cat and mouse game never grew old between you two. "Yes?" Dabi whispered low and husky, excitement and lust heating his veins.

You closed your eyes, swallowed down your fear and pushed your courage to the surface. "I want to break up with you, Dabi!" You said that a lot louder than you meant to, but you said it, nevertheless.

Dabi paused and his heart stopped, his body froze and tensed. Did he hear you right? No. He couldn't have. You were just playing with him. A joke for scaring you. "Come again?" He bit out, he felt his body growing hotter, quaking and trembling with anger.

You didn't answer, which pissed him off even more.

Pulling away from you, his blunt nails digging into the concrete and the other slamming hard into the concrete slab beside you, a blast of blue embers igniting, leaving scorch marks. "Goddammit! Answer me, Y/n!" He hissed, turquoise eyes heated and dilated in furry.

The sound of wings flapping and something sharp pressed against his neck made Dabi peak over his shoulder. Of course, the nosy, Heroic red peacock was sticking his nose into business that didn't concern him. "What do you want, Hero?" The black haired man growled, meeting Hawks own cold hearted, amber glare.

"I believe you've been dumped my friend." Hawks answered. "Now, back away from her or things will get messy." Pressing his bladed red feather further into the other man's neck. "Go walk it off, hothead."

Everything in the villains body forced him to stay still. The hell he would leave you alone with this bastard. He knew you hated Heroes. No one had saved you when you needed them most, no one else, except for Giran. Not until The League and Dabi himself protected you, their treasure and info broker, their golden egg.

You were apart of them now. Their comrade. You've cried for them. You've risked your life for them time and time again. You've bleed for them.

"I don't like being told what to do, chicken feet." Dabi fully turned, keeping his back towards you, shielding you despite how royally irritated he was at you. He wasn't going to abandon you. He'd rather let his shitty old man have a free shot than trust this faker. "Our conversation is between us, not you. Beat it before I really get angry and burn your feathers."

Hawks lowered his weapon and sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Talk about a flare for the dramatic arts you have, Dabi." He folded his red feathers behind his back, locking his gloved hands behind his head and spun around in a circle on his heels. "The missy clearly doesn't want you anymore and you can't let go." He clicked his tongue and frown, "That's just sad man, ya know? Happens all the time. The chemistry and romance fizzles out. You two don't click anymore." His golden gaze met the flame villains.

Dabi felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart with a knife and the stupid feathered freak was twisting it, deeper and deeper. It made his ire burn hotter and flames blaze, double fists white-knuckled as his hands ignited, bursting into azure hellfire. "Last warning, bastard." His eyes narrowed, snarling. "Back the fuck off, eyesore."

Hawks raised his crimson feathered blade and got into a battle stance, "Hard way it is then, flam-o."

Hero and Villain getting ready to charge.

You ran around Dabi and stood between them, raising your arms and yelled. "Stop! Please stop!"

Dabi and Hawks paused, eyes widen.

"Doll, move."

"Get out of the way before you get hurt, little bird."

Dabi grit his teeth, he hated the stupid pet bird name Hawks gave you. It didn't suit you at all. You were his doll. His baby. His little mousy. "The fuck are you nicknamin' my girl for, fuckface?" He growled.

Hawks raised an eyebrow. "What? As of.." He tilted his head and hummed, gripping his chin, then glanced down at his watch. "Five minutes ago, the girls single and free game right?" He winked and gave you a cheeky grin.

Dabi was seeing red, his blood boiling in his veins and he felt every muscle in his body twitch and grow alight. "The hell she is. Dream on, playboy." Bursts and sparks of his blue flames randomly appearing over his body: the side of his head, his palms and his shoulder. He hunched his shoulders, getting ready to charge using his legs and his flames as you stepped towards him.

He remained rooted on the spot, a heated and frustrated groaning hiss leaving his already raspy vocal cords. "Move out of my way, baby or you'll get hurt! I'm warning you, dammit!"

You puffed out your cheeks and chest. He knew you did it when your more stubborn and bratty streak came out while challenging him.

He normally would tease you and call you cute, playing your bluff. You were a shitty liar and had a terrible poker face. But right now was not one of those times.

"I'm not moving, Dabi." You spat, tears prickling the corners. "You either back down or run me over. Your choice?" Your voice cracked and breaking, voice trembling, the next few words felt like acid. "Hawks... is right... its over... Dabi.." Your body quivering and you sobbed, letting your tears spill freely. You would have fallen onto your knees and onto the ground had Hawks not caught you and pulled you into his arms.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here, birdy." Hawks whispered softly into your ear, cradling you against his chest, wrapping one of his feathered wings around you and shielding you from Dabi's view.

Dabi's flames vanished, he shook his head. No. You didn't mean it. You couldn't mean it. It's a lie.... he thought, that fake motherfucker poisoned your mind with his false chivalry and play boyish charms. God, please, please... tell me this is all a nightmare. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He just realized that he said those words out loud, he own voice sounded foreign to him, broken, needy and pleading.

That wasn't like the infamous, cold-hearted, Dabi at all.

Hawks glanced over to the flame user with pity and sympathy. "Hate to break it to ya buddy, but it is." He picked you up in his arms as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed harder into his bombers jacket. The Hero turned, but Dabi caught the frown and sorrow behind Hawks golden viser.

No. It clicked, that flying rat was in love with you!

You were letting him touch you and comfort you, which was his job.

Dabi shook himself, "Put her down, bird bitch." Jealousy already settling into his bones and twisting in his gut. If you left with Hawks, it would truly be over and you never explained why?! So many unanswered questions swirling in his mind.

Were you cheating on him with Hawks? No.

Hawks half turned, soften golden orbs glowered. "If you attack me. You risk hurting your ex-lover pyro. Is that what you want, hot shot?" He argued, scowling. "Hurting a defenseless woman out of anger? Pathetic man." His red feathers ruffled and flapped with aggravation and irritation, growing razor sharp. "Try it and I won't be nice a second time."

Dabi grit his teeth, his fists clenched so hard, his nails dug into his palms, breaking the skin, blood spilling from the wound and dripping on the ground. He didn't feel it. Couldn't even, if he tried. His sense of pain was dulled, except for the unbearable pain in his chest, his heart, and his soul. "Get the fucking hell out of my sight before I change my mind, Hero." He spat with venom as he stormed off in the opposite direction.

Dabi wouldn't admit it, but he regretted not stealing you away from Hawks when he had the chance. The next morning, you left a letter on his pillow saying that you had quit.

Standing from the bed, wearing only his sweatpants, he began to pace back and forth. The more he walked circles round and round the room, the more frustrated and heated he became, nearly tearing his hair out of his scalp.

So many puzzle pieces were missing. He couldn't ask the boss since he was still asleep. Dabi was tempted to barge into Twice's room and demand for him to make a clone of you. He needed answers, but he also missed you so goddamn much. He missed you hogging the blanket in the middle of the night, you wearing one of his shirts to bed and nothing else, you sleep in his bed and that cute, dopey, half sleepy and half awake smile on your face as he brought you your morning coffee.

Why couldn't you see that you were his whole goddamn world? He'd do anything to make you happy. He'd burn the world and anyone you asked him too.

Were you ashamed of him? Calling him your boyfriend? That he didn't repeat those three little words back to you when he should have? Of course, he loved you! He thought you knew that. Trusted him.

Dabi dug his blunt nails into his skull harder. What the fuck was he missing?!

It's all that stupid, huffing, puffing, red feathered assholes fault!

Hawks. Damned nosy, kiss ass.

Piss ant. Poser. Traitor. Double crossing, Hero spy.

Dabi's eye widened a fraction. Spy? Spy!

He stopped his pacing and his clawing. Scarred, burnt, stapled lips quirking and twitching into a feral, twisted and chesire cat grin. A string of giggles slipping past his mouth, laughing and snickers growing in volume, he spun on his heels, round and round, faster and faster, cackling into madness and hysterics.

All of it made sense now. You weren't in love with that prick. You were a spy for The League! Who better to butter-up that pansy than you.

Dabi signed and threw his body back onto his bed, half delirious and dizzy, the room spinning, his body still shook and giggles died in his throat and trying to regain his breath. Oh, my brilliant and beautiful, crafty doll. He wished he could kiss you and smother you with cuddles, praises, love bites and bury himself into your warmth and body. My naughty girl, keeping a secret mission from me. His little mousy had truly grown into a fine villain.

----------

Fanfic inspired by the song: My World by SR-71

https://youtu.be/1MNukXXhOMA?si=1YhVOZgedAP8VlUB

I'm sorry 😭 Touya. The angst, hurt and heartbreak 💔 just hit while I was listening to this song on my music playlist

Should I make a part 2? Tell me your thoughts 😉 Should reader and Dabi get back together?

If I missed you in my tag list let me know! 💞 Or if you want me to take you off my tag list, I understand.

Tag list: @fanofflames @slayfics @angelblueflame @cherry-queens-blog @tapiocakisses @moonchild701 @selinakyles-wife @shadow-w1zard-money-gang @dabislittlemouse @nekolover93 @kkodzukens @phantomhoeass @s-k-3-l-l-y @fabled-lady-twilla @trickster-kat @myvillainacademiafan @nikki0606 @metranart @m3gumibear @staitc-rj @spectra-phantasma @kyiratodoroki

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (4/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: Gif by @doinggreat

Not having a return flight felt both terrifying and exhilarating. Senait lay in Jules' bed, watching shadows play across the ceiling as sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her phone hadn't buzzed with work emergencies for the first time in three years. No crisis meetings, no client demands, no Greg's passive-aggressive emails.

Just... freedom.

Scary, overwhelming freedom.

Jules had insisted she take the day to rest, popping in between his training sessions to check on her. Each time he'd find a different way to make her smile – bringing her favorite snacks, curling around her for quick naps, even convincing Maurice to perform an impromptu concert.

"You're hovering," she'd accused during one such visit.

"I'm caring," he'd corrected, pressing a kiss to her temple before heading back to training.

Now, as evening slowly approached, Senait could smell something amazing wafting from the kitchen. She found Jules at the stove, looking so sexy in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Sit," he commanded, nodding toward the counter. "I have something for you."

"Jules..."

But he was already pulling out a carefully wrapped package. Inside, Senait found a collection of high-end calligraphy supplies – inks, nibs, and papers she'd only dreamed of working with.

"I did some research," Jules said, watching her face. "These are the good ones, right?"

Senait ran her fingers over the supplies, emotion catching in her throat. "They're perfect. But Jules, I can't—"

"Let me help," he interrupted softly. "Not because you need it, but because I want to. Because I believe in you."

She kissed him then, trying to pour all her gratitude and confusion and hope into it. Jules responded immediately, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

"So," he murmured against her lips, "when are you going to make an honest man out of me?"

Senait froze. "What?"

Jules pulled back slightly, studying her face. "We've known each other for almost two months. Things are moving fast – which I'm not complaining about – but maybe it's time to make it official."

"I... I just quit my job," Senait stammered. "And now you want..."

"A commitment? Yes." His hands stayed on her waist, grounding her even as panic fluttered in her chest. "Why does that scare you so much?"

"Because!" She pulled away, needing space to think. "Everything's changing so fast. I need... I need to figure things out first."

"Like what?"

"Like therapy," she admitted quietly. "Like dealing with these walls I've built. Like not fucking this up because I'm too scared to let anyone in."

"You're so fucking stubborn," Jules said, but there was fondness mixed with his frustration. "You think I don't see your walls? Your fears? I'm still here, Senait."

"I know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And I want... I want to try. With you. But I need to do this right. I need to work on myself first."

Jules was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Go to therapy. Work on yourself." He stepped closer, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I'll be here. But don't use it as an excuse to keep running."

Senait leaned into his touch. "I'm trying not to."

"I know, chérie." He kissed her forehead. "Now eat before the food gets cold."

_______________________________________________

Madrid held different memories for Senait now – her first visit for Zuri's engagement party months ago felt like another lifetime compared to being here for El Clásico. The energy around the match was electric, filling every corner of the city.

She met Zuri in the hotel lobby, where her friend was waiting with a woman Senait instantly recognized from social media – Lila Hamilton.

"Finally!" Zuri exclaimed, hugging Senait. "You guys didn’t get the chance to meet at the engagent party but Lila, this is my best friend, Senait. Sen, meet Lila – Lewis' sister and Jude's better half."

Lila's smile was warm, her British accent elegant as she said, "Heard so much about you. Zuri says you're the one who finally tamed Jules?"

"I wouldn't say tamed," Senait laughed. "More like... reached a mutual understanding."

"With Jules?" Lila raised an eyebrow. "That's practically the same thing."

The three women clicked immediately. Senait found herself drawn to Lila's dry humor and genuine warmth. It was clear why she and Zuri had become such close friends – they shared the same straightforward approach to life.

"So you're actually supporting Barcelona?" Lila asked as they made their way to the Bernabéu, noting Senait's scarf. "Brave, considering you're walking in with two Madrid supporters."

"Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are," Senait admitted. "But apparently I have... priorities."

"Jules being one of them?" Zuri teased.

"Jules being the only one," Lila corrected with a knowing smile.

The Santiago Bernabéu was a different beast than the Olympic Stadium. Senait felt the electricity in the air, the tension between the two sets of fans palpable even as she followed Zuri and Lila to their seats.

"Ready for your first Clásico?" Lila asked, adjusting her Real Madrid scarf.

Senait fingered her own scarf – one of Jules' that she'd stolen despite her protests about not being a "football girlfriend." But here she was, heart racing every time she caught sight of him warming up on the pitch.

The match itself was intense. Senait found herself on her feet more often than not, shouting things she barely understood but feeling them deeply. When Jules made a particularly brilliant play, she screamed his name without thinking, earning knowing smirks from both Zuri and Lila.

Barcelona's dominance was clear from the start. Each goal felt like a physical rush, the away section erupting in celebration. Senait watched Jules' confident movements, the way he controlled the midfield, and felt a surge of pride she wasn't quite ready to examine.

By the time the final whistle blew at 0-4, Senait's voice was hoarse from shouting. She linked arms with Zuri and Lila as they made their way down the stadium steps, the Barcelona fans' victory chants echoing around them.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Zuri teased, nudging her. "You really are Jules' number one fan now, huh?"

Senait rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "Don't get used to it. It's a one-time thing," she quipped, though she couldn't help glancing toward the tunnel where the players would emerge.

The wait seemed endless. Senait watched as Aurélien appeared first, his disappointment evident despite his dignified bearing. Zuri immediately went to him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. Then Jude, his frustration clear as Lila quietly led him away.

And then Jules – still radiating that quiet confidence she'd come to associate with him, his eyes finding her immediately in the crowd. Heat pooled in her belly at the look he gave her, pride and possession and promise all mixed together.

"Enjoyed the show?" he asked, pulling her close despite her token protest about his sweaty state.

"You were adequate," she deadpanned, but her smile gave her away.

Back at the hotel room later, a celebration took a more private turn. Jules had her pressed against the door almost before it closed, his hands possessive on her hips.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw you in my scarf," he growled against her neck.

"Is that why you let me steal it?" Senait gasped as his teeth found a sensitive spot. "Part of your master plan?"

"Everything's part of my master plan, chérie."

And maybe it was. Maybe this had all been inevitable from the moment she'd met his eyes at Zuri's engagement party. Maybe all her running had just been delaying the inevitable.

Later, curled into his side, pleasantly sore and completely satisfied, Senait traced patterns on his chest. "I made an appointment," she said quietly.

Jules' hand paused in her hair. "For therapy?"

She nodded. "Found someone who specializes in relationship trauma. She's got great reviews."

"I'm proud of you." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "When?"

"Next week. Virtual session." She propped herself up to look at him. "Is that okay? Me staying in Barcelona but..."

"Working on yourself?" He smiled. "More than okay. Though I warn you – Maurice might try to join your sessions. He's very interested in psychology."

Senait laughed, the sound free and genuine. "Your rooster is a menace."

"Our rooster."

She tensed slightly at that, but not in fear. More in... anticipation. Because 'our' didn't sound as scary as it used to.

"One step at a time," Jules murmured, clearly reading her reaction. "No pressure. Just... possibility."

Senait settled back against him, letting his heartbeat steady her. "I like possibilities."

"Good." His hand resumed its gentle stroking of her hair. "Because I have quite a few in mind."

As she drifted off to sleep, Senait thought about how different this felt from every other relationship she'd had. How Jules pushed without pressuring, supported without suffocating. How he saw her walls but didn't try to break them down – just waited patiently for her to build doors instead.

Maybe that's what real love was supposed to feel like. Not the desperate clinging she'd had with Tymir, not the constant fear of not being enough. But this – this steady warmth, this gentle strength, this quiet certainty that whatever came next, they'd face it together.

One step at a time.

Two weeks after El Clásico, Senait sat cross-legged in Jules' home office, laptop balanced on her knees, finalizing another custom wedding signage order. Maurice strutted past the window, the speakers nearby playing what she swore was Vivaldi.

"Your taste in music is getting crazy, my guy," she called out to the rooster, who merely preened in response.

Her Etsy notifications kept pinging – the surge in orders since quitting her job felt almost cosmic. The universe's way of saying "about time" perhaps. She'd spent the morning researching web designers, knowing her business needed a proper site. Her makeshift Instagram business account already had a decent following, helped by Zuri's subtle promotions to her now-massive audience.

The call with her parents had been full of "I told you so" energy, but the loving kind. "See what happens when you finally listen to your mother?" her mom had teased. They were happy to see her actually living her life instead of just surviving it, even if that life currently involved a French footballer and living with him on a different continent.

The therapy sessions were helping too. Dr. Obazi had a way of making Senait see patterns she'd been blind to. "You're not afraid of success," she'd said in their first session. "You're afraid of deserving it."

That had hit home hard.

So had finally blocking Tymir on everything. She'd hesitated over the button for a moment, years of history making her finger pause. Then she'd remembered his comment on her photo, his casual assumption that he still had the right to her attention.

Click. Done.

"Better late than never," she'd muttered, and felt lighter immediately.

The past weekend in Paris had been surreal. Jules' friend Axel had thrown an elaborate Halloween party, and she'd found herself swept into Jules' inner circle. His Dracula costume had been simple but effective – all black with a dramatic cape and subtle fangs. She'd matched him as his bride, in a flowing white dress with intricate lace details, dark makeup, and artfully messy curls.

"We have the most predictable costumes," she'd teased.

"Sexy," he'd corrected, eyes darkening as he took in her outfit.

Meeting his friends had been surprisingly easy. Axel, with his easy charm and quick wit. Wilhelm, quieter but sharp as a tack. Hugo and Manuel, who treated her like they'd known her forever.

"So you're the one who's got Jules actually answering his phone," Hugo had teased.

"Someone has to keep him in line," she'd shot back, earning appreciative laughs.

The party had been a blur of expensive champagne and elaborate costumes. Jules had kept her close all night, his hands growing increasingly possessive as the alcohol flowed. What happened back in their hotel room... Senait felt heat rise to her cheeks just thinking about it. Jules, it turned out, was even more commanding when drunk, and she'd been more than happy to submit to his... demands.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from the memory: The guys want to come over to watch game footage. That okay?

S: As riveting as that sounds... J: You can work in the office. Just want you near.

Simple. Direct. So Jules.

S: Fine. But I'm not watching football. J: You watched every minute of El Clásico. S: That was different. J: Because you're my biggest fan?

Senait smiled, remembering Zuri's teasing about the same thing. I'm hanging up now.

J: This is a text. S: Goodbye, Jules. J: See you in a bit, chérie.

A notification pinged – another order. A massive corporate client wanting custom place cards for their holiday party. The kind of order that could fund a proper website, maybe even a small studio space.

She was settling into a routine she'd never planned but couldn't imagine living without. Mornings with Maurice's concerts, days split between calligraphy work and exploring the city, evenings with Jules that usually ended tangled in his sheets.

Barcelona was beginning to feel like home. Her favorite café knew her order. The local art supply store kept her preferred inks in stock. Even Maurice had accepted her as part of his audience.

More than that, she was happy. Actually, genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that came from choosing yourself, from letting people in, from building something real.

She glanced around Jules' office – now unofficially hers too during work hours. Her calligraphy supplies had their own drawer, her laptop had a permanent spot on the desk, and she'd even added some plants to the space. Small changes that spoke of bigger ones.

The sound of the front door opening announced Jules' return. Soon the house would be full of his teammates, their animated conversations filling the space as they analyzed game footage. She'd pretend to be completely focused on work, but would probably end up watching anyway, just like she always did.

This was her life now. Not the one she'd planned, not the safe corporate path she'd thought she needed to follow. Instead, she had a growing business, a weekly therapy appointment, and a man who knew exactly when to push and when to be patient.

Jules appeared in the doorway of the office, fresh from training with slightly damp dreads. Just looking at him made something warm unfurl in Senait's chest – a feeling she was slowly learning not to fight.

"Hi," he said simply, crossing to where she sat.

"Hi yourself." She tilted her head up for his kiss, meaning to keep it brief. But Jules had other ideas, deepening the kiss until she was breathless.

"The guys will be here soon," she murmured against his lips.

"Mm. Ten minutes." His hand slid into her hair. "More than enough time."

"To do what exactly?"

His smirk was wicked. "To properly greet you."

Before she could respond, he'd pulled her up from her chair, pressing her against the desk. His hands found her hips, lifting her to sit on the edge.

"Jules—"

"Let me just..." He stepped between her legs.

Jules’ lips traced a line down her neck, making Senait shiver as he teased the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt dress, pushing it higher up her thighs until he had a full view of the lace panties she’d chosen that morning. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words turned to a sigh as his hands gripped her waist tighter.

"Just a quick one," he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down her spine. His eyes were dark with desire, and Senait found herself nodding, anticipation already pooling within her.

Jules stepped back just long enough to fish something out of his pants pocket. Senait couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up when she saw it: a condom.

"You planned this," she accused, her laughter fading into a gasp as he slipped his hands under her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of the desk.

"Always prepared," he murmured with a grin, dropping both his pants and boxers to lay around his ankles and then ripping open the foil packet. As he sheathed himself, his gaze stayed locked on hers, filled with heat and mischief. Senait's pulse quickened, her body already humming in anticipation.

With a firm tug, he pulled her panties to the side, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her. He didn’t waste a moment, pressing into her slowly, making her toes curl. Senait clutched at his shoulders, the edge of the desk digging into the back of her thighs as Jules began to move, setting a fast, relentless pace.

"Fuck," she whispered, her breath coming in short, needy gasps. Jules had her pinned in place, one hand splayed across her lower back to keep her steady, the other gripping her thigh. The slight roughness of his fingertips, the way he filled her so perfectly, had her clenching around him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

He leaned forward, his mouth brushing her ear. "You feel so fucking good, chérie," he groaned, the strain in his voice making her core tighten. The office was filled with the sounds of their rushed, desperate joining—the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the creak of the desk beneath them, and the breathless, incoherent sounds that slipped from Senait’s lips.

Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss, desperate to muffle her own cries as the pressure built inside her. Jules responded eagerly, swallowing her moans, his rhythm never faltering. The intensity of it all—the risk of being caught, the wild passion in his eyes, the feeling of him claiming her—had her teetering on the edge faster than she expected.

"I’m close," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of her heartbeat. Jules’ grip on her tightened, his hips snapping forward harder, his own breathing ragged.

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with urgency. Senait’s body obeyed, pleasure exploding through her, making her shudder and cling to him as her climax washed over her. Jules followed soon after, his groan deep and satisfied as he buried himself in her one last time.

For a moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily. But the moment of bliss was broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing, echoing through the home.

"Shit," Senait whispered, her eyes wide. Jules pulled out of her with a grin, discarding the condom and adjusting his clothes swiftly.

"Go clean up," he said, smacking her ass as she wobbled off the desk, her legs still shaky. The playful sting of his hand made her yelp, and she shot him a glare over her shoulder.

"Asshole," she muttered, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. He just laughed, his expression smug and satisfied.

"Better hurry," he teased. "Don’t want the guys to see you looking all… well, like that."

Senait rolled her eyes, gathering herself and making her way out of the office and down the hallway. But the flush on her cheeks and the way her legs trembled with every step were undeniable reminders of what had just happened, and she couldn't stop the grin that spread across her lips.

In the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror – hair mussed, lips swollen, that unmistakable post-sex glow. The sound of voices grew louder – boisterous laughter as the guys settled in the living room.

After making herself presentable, Senait padded back to the office, settling in with her laptop. She tried to focus on her work, but found herself listening to Jules' voice among them, authoritative and sure as he discussed strategy.

This was her life now. And somehow, impossibly, it fit perfectly.

Sometimes Jules still couldn't believe how naturally Senait had integrated into his life. Watching her work in his home office, Maurice strutting past the window like a personal guard, felt right in a way he hadn't expected when this started.

Her therapy sessions were making a difference – he could see it in how she carried herself, how she was slowly letting her walls down. They weren't official yet, but he could wait. She was worth waiting for, worth giving time to heal and grow at her own pace.

"Ready?" she called from the office. They had errands to run – art supplies for her growing calligraphy business, orders to ship at the post office. Her Etsy shop was thriving, custom orders piling up faster than she could handle them.

The art supply store was their first stop. Jules watched as she carefully selected papers, inks, specialty pens. Her face lit up discussing different techniques with the shop owner, passionate in a way that made his chest warm. This was the Senait he loved seeing – confident, in her element, fully herself.

The post office queue wrapped around the building, but Jules didn't mind. Senait's arms were full of carefully wrapped packages – elaborate wedding signage, custom birthday installations, pieces that showcased her unique style. She'd worked late into the night finishing them, and watching her now, checking tracking numbers and insurance details, he felt overwhelmingly proud.

"Tu novia tiene mucho talento," the postal worker commented, admiring one of the visible designs. ("Your girlfriend's quite talented.”)

Jules didn't correct her assumption. Instead, he helped Senait balance the packages, stealing glances at her focused expression, the way she bit her lip while calculating shipping costs.

The sneaker store was where they slipped up. A small group of teenagers recognized him, eyes widening as they nudged each other. Jules tensed slightly – he was careful about public appearances, especially with Senait. His PR team had helped keep their relationship private, away from the football gossip machine.

"¿Te importaría una foto?" one boy asked nervously.

Jules glanced at Senait, who had already stepped back, understanding without words. He took a few quick pictures, signed some shoes, then they made their exit.

"Sorry about that," he said once they were in the car.

"Don't be. It's part of who you are."

Later, floating in his pool on one of his loungers, the Barcelona sun warm on their skin, Jules thought about Aurélien's text. His friend had been through hell with Zuri lately – family drama, media scrutiny, the works. The suggestion of a group trip to Megève had come with a note about needing peace, about wanting to share that peace with the people who'd supported them.

"Aurélien's planning a trip," Jules said, watching Senait's reaction carefully. "Megève in December. Him and Zuri, Jude and Lila. Thought we could join."

She turned in his arms, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Small steps, but progress nonetheless. Jules pressed a kiss to her temple, content just to have her here, in his pool, in his life. Two months ago, she might have balked at the idea of a couples' holiday. Now she was planning it with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maurice's indignant crow from his enclosure made them both laugh. The rooster had taken to protesting when they used the pool, as if offended by their water activities.

"Your bird is jealous," Senait said, shifting to watch Maurice's dramatic display.

"Our bird," Jules corrected automatically, and smiled when he heard her hum noncommittally.

They stayed in the pool until the sun started to set, talking about everything and nothing. Her latest orders – a massive wedding installation that had her excited about the creative possibilities. His upcoming matches, training schedules, team dynamics.

It felt domestic in the best way. Like they'd been doing this forever, would keep doing it for years to come. Jules found himself imagining more moments like this – Senait in his space, planning futures together, Maurice providing the soundtrack to their life.

After showering and ordering dinner, they settled on his couch. Senait was sketching design ideas while Jules watched match footage, her feet in his lap, Maurice performing his evening concert in the background.

Even if she wasn't ready to name it yet, even if she still needed time to heal and trust and grow – Jules knew what this was. Knew that all the waiting, all the patience, all the careful steps forward would be worth it.

Looking at her now, completely absorbed in her sketches, wearing one of his t-shirts like it belonged to her, Jules felt something settle in his chest. A certainty that hadn't been there before.

This was it. She was it. Everything else was just details they'd figure out together.

THE END….epilogue coming soon…..

[wolfclan-gen]

WOLFCLAN: MOON 16.5

"What's that weird thing around his neck?" "He smells funny." "Why's he always asleep? Doesn't he want to explore the camp?"

Rapidwind sighed. His kits were at the age where they had endless questions about everything around them, and asked faster than he could answer. "He came from far away. He smells funny and wears that thing around his neck because he didn't live with a clan, he lived with big animals called 'Twolegs'. Try not to bother him, he's hurt and he's been through a lot. He needs rest. And, um, don't tell him he smells funny. That's rude."

Robinkit, crawling up Rapidwind's back, managed to tumble over his father's head and fall into his paws. Rapidwind avoided the impulse to itch his face where the kit's tail tickled it - Indigoleaf would be furious if he accidentally wiped the poultice off his snout. Again. "But, but, why is he here now?" Robinkit mewed, before Finchkit interrupted by pouncing on his brother.

"Because… Twolegs don't like cats." Rapidwind answered. But was that true? His old clanmate, Terracotta, had claimed most Twolegs were kind. But she had been hurt and thrown out by them too, hadn't she? "So stay away from them. Just like you'd stay away from wolves, or coyotes, or eagles."

"And foxes and snakes and owls!" Oriolekit added. "Is that where we come from?"

Rapidwind stared at the kit for a moment, caught off-guard. "What do you mean, where you come from?"

"Badgerstripe said you brought us to camp." Oriolekit continued, and now her brothers were also looking up at Rapidwind. "Did you get us from Twolegs, like Shimmerstar brought Dusty back to camp?"

Rapidwind knew they'd ask about their origin eventually, but he hadn't settled on how much he would share. "No, you didn't come from Twolegs." He eventually answered. "You're clan-born, because I'm your dad."

"Badgerstripe said most cats have two parents." Oriolekit's gaze was more prying than Rapidwind thought was possible for a kit.

Badgerstripe needs to mind his own business. "That's true." He admitted. He couldn't lie to them. "You're my kits. And you also have a mother." Robinkit opened his mouth, about to speak, but Rapidwind laid his tail over the kit's muzzle. "Hush, just listen. She lived far away, with other cats. She didn't think it was safe to raise kits there, but she couldn't leave, because she was loyal to them too. So we decided you would grow up here, because WolfClan will care for any cat that needs help. Little kits like you, and old kittypets like Dusty."

Rapidwind realized his kits were all looking up at him, wide-eyed. "Does that answer your question?"

Finchkit nodded. "So, does everyone else know our mother?"

"No, I don't think so." Rapidwind glanced around the cave, but it was empty besides him, his kits, and the sleeping Dusty. "A long time ago, back when I was as little as you and the clan lived somewhere else, cats weren't supposed to have families outside their clan. Now that we live in the mountains things are different, but... I thought it was best if I didn't tell everyone. All that matters is that you're here, with me."

Rapidwind assumed that he and Shimmerstar were the only ones to actually remember living with the old codes and traditions. Indigoleaf, Badgerstripe, and Polecatspot had been too young at the time. When they fled to the mountains, it had felt like those restrictions were left behind, and all that mattered was that they would take care of each other. Shimmerstar hadn't punished Rapidwind when he brought his half-clan kits to camp, and treated the kits with the same kindness that they had shown Rapidwind when he was little, but it was obvious that the leader was actively avoiding the subject of WolfClan's deputy breaking the old clan's rules.

"Well, I like being here." Robinkit announced, his squeaky mew as serious as he could make it. Rapidwind didn't miss how he was starting to get fidgety.

"I like it more!" Oriolekit mewed back, and swiped a paw at Robinkit. Robinkit swiped back, and the two started wrestling.

Finchkit bonked his head against Rapidwind's flank, purring. "I like that we get to be with you."

Rapidwind curled his tail around Finchkit, both of them watching the others play-fight. "I like that you get to be with me, too."

[strawbqq]

hii i love your posts especially the chuuya hcs!!!!! pls would u write scent Hcs for Chuuya, dazai, + hunting dogs if u can??? tysm the rest of the details r up to u 🥺🥺

a/n: OMG??? GOT MY FIRST REQUEST YALL.ᐟ.ᐟ of course, this is such a cute request.ᐟ.ᐟ ｡ﾟ(TヮT) I added ranpo, aku + fyodor cuz why not lol

𝔹𝕊𝔻 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕔𝕤.ᐟ

[Warnings: none.ᐟ✰] [Word count: 212 || 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂.ᐟ]🍓

𝙳𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 ✧

actually smells nice

doesn't wear strong perfume/cologne tho

smells like leather and parchment

a clean, faint sort of smell♡

𝙲𝚑𝚞𝚞𝚢𝚊 ✧

vanilla!!!!!

uses sTrOng perfumes, those expensive ass ones too

probably also smells a bit like wine, cigarettes, and ash

u sneeze when ur near him

𝙹𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚘 ✧

pays so much attention to what he smells like lmao

faintly flavored soap + clean laundry 🫧

^Nothing strong; his heightened senses hates that

always smells clean no matter what

𝚃𝚎𝚌𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚞 ✧

umm...i can't see him caring much lol

probably his weird food combinations??

otherwise just a rlly faint, warmish smell from recently working out

*maybe some green tea as well🍵

𝚁𝚊𝚗𝚙𝚘 ✧

this man lmao

marshmallows, candy, and crayons all mixed together

probably haven't taken a bath in weeks

smells like whatever snack he's been eating that day

𝙵𝚢𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛 ✧

something bitter, like dark chocolate

a slightly ink/woody smell??

very subtle

smells like how a typical russian rat would smell

𝙰𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚠𝚊 ✧

the people he killed😭

ok but jokes aside, he probably does smell like iron

earthy kind of

isn't really into perfumes or anything lmao

a/n: this was so fun to write!!! ty for this request, i hope u have a great day!! i really needa start writing more for ADA & DOA too lol

yall whyd this actually flop real bad :,) tysm for those who liked & reblogged ♡

𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾.ᐟ ʚ🍓ɞ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs + ʟɪᴋᴇs ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ

o(≧▽≦)o

[striveattemptfail]

a cursed realization: wade and logan are old men. logan especially so.

they MUST have weird old man habits and general body weirdness. and not the endearing shit like preferring to use old school tech, or having a "get off my lawn, my favourite miscreants" kinda attitude, or being unable to keep up in sex, or any of that kinda cute stuff

i mean the unpleasant sweaty old man smell, having walking farts, snoring while awake, their stomachs just making noises for no goddamn reason bc their digestive systems are no longer 30 y/o

all of which they don't even realize they're doing bc they're old and either a) have more pressing things to worry about [at their age]; b) stopped giving a fuck; or c) both of the above

source: i live with two very old men (my dad and uncle). one is a few years away from retirement and the other is already at that age. they are family but they are still gross old men who act like drunk uncles given half the chance

and while neither logan or wade are in their 60s, these habits don't just magically appear once you hit that age. they begin long before that and accumulate over time until the stinky old man package is complete

"but jercy," you say, "they have perfect regeneration!! they can't have any health problems!! they're too self-conscious to be that gross!!"

1: (re: perfect regeneration) that is an even worse argument for wade, who has mega cancer and canonically does not smell pleasant or have a properly functioning body. he'd 100% have old man problems as a symptom of his cancer bc his mutation is physically keeping him in a constant state of dying. everything he does is out of sheer stubbornness and willpower to make a joke out of his life

1b: to play on a popular headcanon: any aromatic, artificial fruity skincare routine he has can easily be used as a reason for him to cover up his old man smell

2: see point B above for logan

2b: see the movie, logan (2017), or the comic, death of wolverine (2014), for the fact that logan can canonically age/die. albeit it's at a vastly slower pace than everyone else, but it means logan WILL eventually have these issues with his body too, if he doesn't have them already

2c: feral/animalistic logan who takes on animal traits would be so much worse bc wolverines are called "skunk bears" for a reason. wolverines (and any wildlife/animal that you can compare logan to) fucking STINK!! they have EVEN GROSSER ANIMAL HABITS!! you just gotta accept it

3: (re: self-consciousness) you got a point there, but once again refer to point B. most folks i know at their age are on their way to or have already stopped caring about what others think of them. and even if wade and logan are somehow the exceptions to this, i'm sure they let loose in private and probably indulge in their grosser habits when they're alone

4: if you want biblically accurate old man yaoi you're gonna have to contend with the fact that it comes with the non-sexy old man problems. i'm sorry i have to break the illusion but this is the reality we must face together

5: suspension of disbelief, friends. do engage with that once in a while lol

in conclusion: i unfortunately have every bit of confidence that wade and logan are not exempt from old man behaviours and bodily functions and i will die whining about it. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[n30n-l1ghts]

Tokyo revengers basic NSFW headcannons pt. 2

Characters- Taiju, Inui, Koko, Ran, Rindou, Sanzu, Izana, Shinichiro, Wakasa, Benkei, Takeomi

Read the first part here

Proofread by my lovely partner @nxll-n4m3

Taiju-

Chat I think we know. I think we KNOW this man has a MONSTER cock chat. Ain't nobody arguing that. He's 6'5" and built like a fucking 18 wheeler, yeah no question he's hung. 8.7. and I KNOW that's unethical. Trust me, he knows it too. And he'd be more cocky about it if it didn't dissuade almost everyone from even attempting to take that. I feel like he wouldn't have much, if any experience. I can see him sleeping around a teensy bit to relieve stress and then getting really guilty about it. But then again, he's a very pious man, so I can also absolutely see him saving himself for marriage (though he might cheat a teensy bit with oral or mutual masturbation) speaking of which, this man is SO guilty about falling for a guy. You're gonna have to deal with the world's most internalized homophobe ever. Religious trauma is a hell of a thing. A swift topic change, grooming. I don't see him caring much, but he will tidy it up a bit if you want him to. All while very loudly grumble curses under his breath of course. Long, thick, black and surprisingly not all that curly.

Seishu-

He gives me the vibe of someone who can be surprisingly subby if he trusts you enough. But he'd need to REALLY trust you to be that vulnerable in your presence. He's absolutely a switch and I don't think he actually has much of a preference, apart from the fact that he's more top and dom leaning the less he knows you. Then again, he has to trust you a fair amount to get into bed with you anyways, this boy does not sleep around even a little. Actually he hates the idea and finds it a little scumbaggy. As for physical description, pretty middle of the road both in size and grooming. 6.2-3, absolutely a grower and not a shower. His cock is the same really pale colour as his skin. He keeps himself a little tidy down south, but can't be bothered to give it more than a trim every now and again. Wispy and blonde, honestly looks almost white in the right lighting.

Koko-

Fancy rich boy smells like fancy rich soap and fancy rich cologne. Nah jk, that man wears perfume not cologne, and honestly, more power to him, he pulls it the fuck off. I think he's very cleanly. Clean, orderly, and fancy shmancy. Tell me why I think he'd own stupid expensive lingerie? I know he would. He swears up down and sideways the first time you find them that they're not for him to wear (they totally are). Pretty big toy collection too, can't convince me otherwise. This man needs his ass ate, I don't make the rules, I just work here. He NEEDS IT. He's super clean down there so it's not gross or anything, and it's just about his favorite activity. In other words, eat the rich- (who said that-) decent 5.7, not particularly large, but enough to get the job done. He's another one I feel like honestly might prefer being clean shaven. He might have a small tuft of curly black hairs, but it would definitely be meticulously kept as he can't stand the feeling of too much hair down there, it annoys him to no end.

Ran-

Biggest tease. BIGGEST TEASE. Brat. BRAT. He's a switch, but by God is he a pain in the ass as a bottom. He doesn't know the meaning of the word submit. He will get on your nerves and try to provoke you until you're fed up and just bend him over the nearest surface. Lowkey gives me the vibe of an exhibitionist. Like, semi-public sex would turn him on so much. Drag him into a bathroom or random alleyway and he'll pop an instant boner. Definitely a brat taming kink and it goes both ways, it's just whoever feels like putting the other in their place, he's cool with it either way. Pull his hair, wrap your hand around his throat, he's a lil freaky freak like that. Really though, an experimentalist, he's willing to try damn near anything at least twice. Definitely has a fair amount of experience, total fuckboy over here. He has a revolving door of guys and gals that want to get in those pants. It's really not that hard to do, what is hard to do is get into that heart. (Cheesy I know) But seriously, if you somehow manage to actually bag this man, you have him under lock and key and he's yours forever, loyal as a dog despite what you might think. Probably about 6.10ish maybe pushing 7" when fully erect. Man's is six feet tall, he's got some length to him, just saying. I feel like he would stay on top of grooming pretty alright, largely because of how much he likes to sleep around, he needs to be presentable down there at all times just in case he randomly bags a hottie while he's out. After getting into a relationship, he's a bit more indifferent to it, but still likes to keep it a little tidy for your sake.

Rindou-

A lot of people assume he's also a fuckboy because of Ran, he's not, and that assumption actually bugs him a lot. He finds sleeping around to be pointless and stupid, and he lowkey kind of silently judges Ran for it. He's a sadistic assholes that loves mocking your whining. At least in the bedroom, he's surprisingly sweet otherwise and just in general. But that same sadistic side that shows when he's fighting shows through during sex. I feel like he might bottom with some convincing, but he'll also be a brat. (A brat that sobs openly when edged enough) However he'll do the same to you when things are the other way around. To my masochistic brothers, here's your man. He's safe and consensual about it, maybe periodically checking up on you but he will absolutely pull your hair, bite you, whip you, spank you, slap you, hell maybe even spit on you if that's your thing. He's a pretty big S&M guy in general, but is the world's biggest enthusiast of *safely* practicing bdsm. Informed consent is key with this man (as it fucking should be). He's the type who likes music in the background, but he is willing to let you choose the music. He can go without, but he prefers it with. 6.7 in length I feel like sounds about right for him. He may or may not decide to actually groom down there, no real guarantee, it depends on the day and how he feels. I headcannon him to be borderline or straight up gender fluid, swapping between cis masc and enby. Some days he prefers it with a little bush and other days he's just like "No. No this cannot do, it must go." So, y'know- ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Sanzu-

Oh, where do I even start with this batshit crazy bastard of a druggie (He's just like me frfr). Admittedly, probably doesn't sleep around much, even though he tries. His crazy scares almost everyone away, if the scars didn't already do the trick (wanna know how I got these scars lookin' headass) but honestly, you probably met him at a bar or a club, and he was probably flirting with you because he's high as shit. I can't see him easily getting into a relationship, but when he does he's absolutely infatuated. Devoted. You are his god. It's almost unsettling how far he's willing to go for you. That also translates into the bedroom. He has his preferences, (AHEM body worship) but assuming he truly does love you and it's not just some spur of the moment one nighter, he's more than willing to do anything, and I mean ANYTHING to please you. No kink too nasty or too far for him. He'll do that in everyday life too. If want him to buy something for you, legal or illegal, he'll do it. He'll make it happen. You hate someone, or someone getting creepy on you? They suddenly go *cough cough* "missing". He loves him some high sex, but I can see him wanting to be at least mostly sober during sex if you're dating. To savor the experience, really. He would totally get high after though. Snorting lines after sex is his go to. A little on the smaller side-ish, maybe around 5.4 or so. But he can use it pretty well if he's sober. He gets sloppy and borderline animalistic when high. He does not care AT ALL about grooming, but again he'd blow up the sun for you if he truly loves you, so he'd do it before you could finish blinking if you ever asked him to.

Izana-

Our favorite half Filipino boy right here. First things first. Sensitive. This man is so incredibly starved for attention and love, he can handle the hardest punches like a champ, but if you lightly and lovingly trace his skin, he's gone. He's dead, putty in your hands. His mind buffers like he's running on widows xp with dial up. He cannot compute this. Rough sex he's fine with, it's probably what he's used to, what he's comfortable with. But soft, gentle, slow sex? It's gonna take a minute to build up to that point. But seriously, hold this man like he's made of glass for a minute, he needs it. He'll complain about it, but he loves it. He so desperately needs someone to show him that sunshine and rainbows even exist at all. He's possesive too. If you show him an ounce of affection, he'll demand gallons and will never let anyone near you. Because how dare you even consider showing anyone else that same affection? It's like how he hates Mikey because of his jealousy over Shinichiro. Anyone who he deems to be a threat, he'll hate them (he's borderlining yandere) Really he's just jealous because he's insecure, give him reassurance and he'll calm down. Well, somewhat. I can imagine him being pretty middle of the road, 5.8 would be my guess. Another type who doesn't pay much mind to his grooming down there, especially in the time skip. Much like Sanzu, this man damn near worships you, so yeah, he'd start manscaping in a heartbeat if you wanted him to. Just ask and he'll do it. Main difference is with Sanzu you 100% have to tell him verbally or he'll never pick up on. Izana may or may not notice if you dislike it, still better to just tell him though. (Communication is good chat, talk to your partners jfc)

Shinichiro-

Awkward dork. Total dweeb and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible. He's a loser and a lame-o, and we all love him for it. He's so babygirl coded fr. He will do everything in his power to please you (and probably fail miserably) whether in the bedroom or not. He tries though, his heart is in the right place and that's what counts. Though he can get a little dejected and self conscious about it, so you just have to remind him that it doesn't bother you and that he's fine the way he is. Please tell him he's fine the way he is. He's tried to dirty talk once before, but ended up stuttering and then became self aware halfway through, visibly cringing because let's be honest, whatever he said was probably pretty cringy. But it just wound up in both of you laughing about it, both in the moment, and looking back on it later. But he does really love you, and it shows in everything he does. I feel like he'd really like cuddle fucking and missionary. Really, he just wants to feel close to you. He likes to be able to hug you while you fuck. He can't dirty talk for the life of him as previously discussed, so he's usually not very verbal, only really moaning out curses or your name. Don't get me wrong, he's vocal, just not verbal. Occasionally when he's in the mood for a more rough type of encounter, he can and will turn into a babbling mess underneath you. However, if you dirty talk to him at all, he will absolutely lose his mind and go beet red, hiding his face in your chest or the crook of your neck. This boy loves nothing more than looking into your eyes, carresing you and kissing you during sex. He's a hopeless romantic is what he is. Actually decently long, 7.6, makes sense, he's over six foot. I feel like he'd definitely try to groom down there when you're dating, but he might fuck up a little and nick himself a couple times. But as always, hell make an effort to look his best and do his best for you.

Wakasa-

Ahem. Point to the best ass eater please?

👉w a k a s a i m a u s h i👈

But seriously. This man's tongue is magical (yes I'm biased, he's my fav leave me tf alone) but really, he gives me the vibe of someone who knows what he's doing. He's got experience and ✨talent✨ in regards to sexy time. And he's strong enough to toss your ass around like a raggedy anne doll, even despite how short he is. C'mon, he's owns a gym and he absolutely kicks ass in a fight, you cannot convince me he couldn't throw me like a tennis ball (I want him to so badly.) Stoner vibes. Hardcore stoner vibes. This man is constantly at least a little buzzed and he's absolutely a plug. You cannot convince me otherwise, I won't listen. This shit is gospel. I feel like he'd be willing to put in some effort for his s/o, but he's a total pillow princess at heart. Whether you're riding him or railing him, as long as he feels good and doesn't have to do shit, he's a happy boy. Really he's just spoiled, doesn't feel like working for a damn thing. He'll get really pouty if you make him beg or work for it, but if you torment and torture him enough he'll comply eventually. Waka is another body worshiper I feel like. Sure, he's a pillow princess, but he likes to have his hands roaming every inch of you at all possible times. His hands and his lips. The softest touches paired with the softest kisses, peppered all over your skin because he just can't get over how perfect you are to him. If you've read my Akihiko x Stoner reader fic, I can imagine that type of scenario. You riding him or him riding you while you share a blunt, just hotboxing yourselves in your room with slow, lazy sex, all of your sense through the damn roof. Another music lover, just something soft and really chill in the background, even better when paired with a good blunt. He's touchy in general when he's high, always having to have contact with you, and he just can't keep himself off of you, same applies to the bedroom, always caressing you without even realizing it. He's packing a relatively solid 5.6. not shabby considering that he's five foot fucking three. Short king, but we love him anyways. I SAID WE STAND WITH OUR SHORT KINGS. He strikes me as the type who grooms semi-frequently, but doesn't obsess about it. He's a lazy guy, but at the same time he doesn't like to be gross y'know? He maintains it, but it's the bare minimum.

Benkei-

Gentle giant, anyone? Because that's what he is. At least when he's with you. Sure, he's only 6'2", but he's pretty fucking wide too. That, and his overall demeanour and personality just gives him the vibe of a big guy. Despite his strength and his tendency to have a hot temper sometimes, he's surprisingly gentle with you. Of course, that's unless you ask him not to be. He'd never dare lay a hand on you in everyday life, but the bedroom has different rules as we all know. He's a big fan of setting up concrete and mutually agreed upon boundaries, and there always has to be a safe word. (Honestly how it should be) Even if you don't have a consent kink, it is undeniabley impressive how hot he can make asking you for verbal consent. He needs explicit verbal consent each time, and absolutely refuses to do anything if either of you are even a little intoxicated unless it was previously discussed. He's such a gentleman in that respect honestly. He'll always listen to your preferences and prioritize your needs first. Even if your into that freaky shit and he's telling you he's just using you as a cock sleeve, really he's always chasing your pleasure more than his own. It's just how he rolls. 7.10, and I will not elaborate. That seems pretty appropriate for him, honestly. He likes to have a bush, but he likes to keep it well kept and trimmed, like how he keeps his beard quite orderly. So there is a tuft of hair down there, black or white, I'm not sure (his natural hair colour isn't confirmed, but I doubt he'd bother dying it.) and it is very well kept. Manscaping is just a part of his everyday routine, same as maintaining his facial hair, he doesn't even think twice about it anymore.

Takeomi-

Another slightly awkward dork, but he tries to pretend he's all confident. May or may not lie about how much experience he has. He might tell you he's slept around a fair bit and dated a lot of people to impress you, but it's obvious he hasn't by how nervous he gets around you. He desperately tried to hide his nervousness too. We all know he's greedy and can get a little self obsessed at times. And I can see why that might make you think that he'd be too much of a narcissist to be a good partner, and I'd say you're only about a quarter right. Yes, having a partner like you would absolutely go to his head a bit. He thinks you're like the best person to ever grace this earth, so he thinks it's a major flex that you'd choose *him* of all people. He would absolutely show you off like some kind of trophy, number one hype man right here. You become his source of pride, next to his gang. I fully believe he's another straight up worshipping type, he thinks you're way too good for him, and as a result hails you like some kind of god and will flaunt you with pleasure. Though if close enough to him, he might be more willing to be vulnerable around you and admit to his overwhelming insecurities and lack of self esteem. It's no secret that his sense of self worth is derived from achievements and material possessions, which is just a tad bit of an issue. Just a tad. This all 100% translates into the bedroom. Tries so hard and fails so miserably to act confident. He'd be more likely to top especially towards the beginning because he feels he has something to prove, he feels that he needs to be more dominant just to show you he cares. But with some time, discussion and a fuckload of reassurance, he'd be willing to bottom. May or may not feel a bit emasculated by it though. Could be a bit of a whiner/whimperer, but again, it takes him a minute to be that comfortable. It's not that he doesn't trust you, he just really doesn't want you to think less of him. Same thing applies to grooming. The only reason he even tries is because he wants to look halfway decent for you. He wants to impress and come across as though he cares. If he cares for himself that makes it seem like he's more capable of caring for you, right? Well, that's his logic anyways. Likes to keep a decent sized tuft of hair because it makes him feel more masculine. Pretty well kept though if I'm being honest, he does a halfway decent job.

[lovelaetter]

yay, I'm glad you liked it >< also, the way I had 4 paragraphs on this and accidentally clicked away, oops.... this is kinda rewritten from memory so not very good—but ask and you shall receive ! and I don't have an active blog atm, but I will be looking into it. maybe. the internet is scary D: also, lots of context once again, my bad "( – ⌓ – )

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ age gap & intox

⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀( older!reader × nonidol!rosé ) you two met by bumping into each other (literally) at a coffee shop. so cliché: her cheeks reddening when she looks up at you, her freshly made iced americano poured all over your white shirt, and her doed-up eyes portraying the embarrassment. a bunch of quick apologies like "I'm so sorry, ma'am," and "I wasn't looking, oh my God, I'm so sorry–"

her best idea at the moment is to give you her number to "make it up to you later" and she saves herself as 'rosie ♡ (the clumsy one)', the heart not going unnoticed by you. you make your way out after reassuring it was okay, that you were only here to buy some pastries anyway, nowhere important to be. her eyes trail up your figure until you disappear around the corner, the door letting out a 'ding' as you exit.

⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀a few weeks later and you get a text from 'rosie ♡' (you removed 'the clumsy one' part because it was a bit too dumb to label her with) which says "hello, I was wondering if I could repay you with some brunch??". a quick "sure" and you find yourself with a talkative rosé, she's sitting across from you and so social. it's obvious she has some sort of crush on you, you assumed it was the idea of an older woman—she seems like the type to be too 'babygirl' to have someone her age.

day drinking was never your strength, so you only sip your water as she downs a few sips of her whiskey. the smell is strong, not that you mind, and it showcases whenever she leans forward to refill your water—so well-mannered, with her speech as well—or hand you her fork because "this is so good, you need to try it!"

⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀eventually taking her back to her own place. she's too tipsy to stand straight, let alone drive. only 1 pm and she's already wasted. you're thankful it's your day off today, wouldn't be able to take care of a needy rosé with some idiotic men who can't figure out how to sort paper blowing up your phone.

she's... so dumb. her tongue is loose, complimenting you left and right and growing bolder with her words. all you can do is let out amused responses because she's very clearly drunk, you shouldn't take advantage of that. but oh God, it's hard to keep yourself in check when she's whining and full on begging for just something, anything.

it's out of pity, at least that's what you tell yourself, when you shush her with two of your fingers in her mouth. she looks like she's gonna cum from just that because the thought of being babied is making her so hazy she just can't. and so, she does cum. untouched. but it's too small of an orgasm to satisfy either of you, so those same fingers keep pounded her skull in contrast to you gently taking off her clothes.

she's wearing some pink lace and you can't help but think—imagine—that she wore these just for you, that she wanted this to be the end goal. what a shameless girl. but you don't admire the cloth, it's down to her ankles in milliseconds, your index and middle finger are the only thing covering her, somewhat. the circles on her clit slow but still enough to have her thrashing.

when you let her speak again, taking your soaked fingers out her mouth and stuffing them one by one in her cunt until there's three, her manners show again. "thank you" and "right there, please," leave her mouth so constantly you doubt she can think of any other words right now.

when she cums again, it's so hard and pretty. her eyes rolling back and reaching forward towards you instead of arching her back. you can still see that she's drunk, but you don't feel bad, can't feel bad. not when she's mindlessly half-admitting to having wanted this: "so much better than I imagined." now you just have to wait for her to sober up for round 2, she's too comfy over your lap to reciprocate.

signed by ☃️

this !! i’m seeing stars, this is what rosé is about for me, this awful mess of a girl who crumbles under the attention of an older woman :( like you said, her drunk self, throwing her head back with a stupid smile and then batting her eyelashes at you, something about “you’re really pretty” and laughing that makes you just dismiss her with a “sure thing, rosie” and grip her waist harder and pull her harder to your side.

somehow remembering her manners while you have three fingers stretching her out is so on brand for her (and jennie), head empty, cunt achy, turns every girl to the most well behaved form :(

and i compared her to a little fawn on my other ask about her and i can’t help but do it again here because it’s exactly how i think she would act after, getting so sleepy and looking so fragile in your arms post-orgasm, body mushy, barely holding herself on her own legs and you take her to bed to proper rest and she smile and extend her hand, inviting you to lay with her and what are supposed to do? say no? and when you sit down she instantly curls up by your side… sigh, that one girl that’s too much of a cute wild animal for you.

you mentioning cute brunch unofficial dates and stuffing her mouth with your fingers here, me talking about having her on your lap and feeding her little bites on the sugar baby ask… oh, rosie girl, i know what you are. totally not thinking about million scenarios including oral fixation right now and the idea of her vibrating at the vague feeling of your fingers close to her lips, cleaning her smudged lipstick, shushing her, offering her something, all while her underwear grows damp and she has to resist the urge to open her mouth to bite or lick. or just being latched at any part of your body because that’s what it is about, your neck, your pussy, your strap, she just wants to feel some of you in her mouth.

and never apologize for writing lots of background, i do it too and i love it!!

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 16: The Bracelets

Thanks again for keeping this story alive!!! Chapter 15 was posted a few moments ago, so make sure you read that first! Please leave comments on the story and art ❤️

26 Days until competition

“What do you mean you don't want to spend time with me?” Azriel questioned playfully. Socked feet propped up on the coffee table, Azriel stretched his body as he held his phone, content to watch Elain who had been frantically running around her kitchen for thirty minutes. 

On the other end of the video call, Elain snickered as she put the finishing touches on the cooled down cake. It was a simple red velvet cake covered in thick cream cheese frosting. 

“That is not what I said at all,” She chuckled, smoothing out the icing with a butter knife. “Nesta is having a girls’ night. I figured it would be good if I went for a little while.”

Azriel's heart squeezed in his chest. The meeting with Miryam and Drakon had been one of his best ideas. It’d only been a few days since then, but there was no trace of the doubts that had previously plagued her brain. She’d needed a reminder of what skating was all about. A reminder that she was strong and capable, and could give herself permission to be entertained. To open her heart and let love, any kind of love, burrow its way in. 

They’d spent a good two and a half hours at the Snowspell rink, jumping between showing the married couple their ice dance routine, and carefully learning intricate lifts only allowed in the pairs skating program. Miryam talked Elain’s ear off, sharing early stories of her and Drakon’s relationship while Drakon relentlessly teased Azriel any chance he got about the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. After they’d left the rink, Elain’s joy could be felt across Prythian. Azriel had dreamed of Elain’s lips on his cheek that same night. 

“I didn't realize you were so hellbent on seeing me anyway,” Elain taunted, licking the frosting from the knife when she’d finished. There was something so erotic about this sweet, soft woman licking what could double as a deadly weapon. 

“Spending time with you is the best part of my week,” Azriel answered truthfully, adjusting so that one arm was underneath his head. “There's nothing better.” 

“Not even hockey?” She asked quietly, doe eyes wide in surprise as she gingerly sprinkled pink hearts onto the cake. He’d gotten lost in those eyes on more than one occasion. He’d also caught those pretty brown eyes looking at him in a way she never had before. Almost as if he’d finally become something more to her than just a skating partner. More than just a friend. His cheeks warmed at the possibility. 

Azriel spoke softly, “No, not even that.” And it wasn’t a lie. Everything else dulled in comparison to spending whatever little time he could with her. 

“And what will you do while I am occupied tonight?” Either a genuine question, or a way to squash the palpable tension that could be felt even across a video call.

“Maybe I'll throw my own guys’ night,” He suggested, though a night alone was tempting. 

“Whatever you do, do not corrupt my nephew,” She said, pointing the knife at the camera. 

“I wouldn’t dream of stealing Cassian’s job.” A moment passed before he said more solemnly, “Promise me you’ll call if you need me for anything.” 

Elain’s face flushed. She wondered if her cheeks would always heat or her heart would always glow when he showed just how much he cared about her. “I promise.” 

Elain stood outside Nesta's door with the cake cradled between her hands. Her cheeks were tinted pink from the wind, matching the sprinkles on the sweet treat. Laughter erupted from behind the door, and Elain decided she couldn’t flee now even if she wanted to. A very tipsy Nesta had spotted her through the window and ran to fling open the door, enveloping Elain in a warm embrace. With a laugh, Elain gently scolded her older sister for almost crushing the cake. 

The inside of Nesta’s home smelled like cinnamon, embers from the fireplace, and three different types of alcohol. On the couch, Feyre lounged with a glass of red wine as dark as the accent pillows. Two girls sat on the floor, a brunette and a redhead, with a giant unopened box between them. 

“Am I late?” Elain asked sheepishly, nodding her hellos. She turned to Nesta. “You said to come over at eight. How are you already tipsy?” 

“No comment,” Nesta slurred, patting Elain’s cheeks. She must have had a few drinks before anyone arrived. “And you’re right on time. Elain, meet Emerie and Gwyn. Emerie teaches mixed martial arts here in the Night Region, and Gwyn owns a vocal studio in Summer.” 

All three girls flashed bright grins between each other. Elain placed the cake down on the kitchen table and said softly, “I baked a cake. I hope everyone likes red velvet.” 

Everyone did, in fact, enjoy red velvet cake. The treat was gone within the hour, along with most of Feyre’s delicately crafted charcuterie board. Gwyn’s exotic fruit tray had also been a hit, and the drinks were flowing and constantly being refilled. Bottles of wine, liquor, and even sparkling ciders were quickly becoming empty. 

Elain, to her sisters’ shock, had indulged in perhaps one too many drinks as well. She’d burst open from her shell, nodding along to Gwyn’s stories and laughing loudly at Emerie’s drunk antics. Feyre’s eyes glittered as she and Elain drunkenly swayed to music, and Nesta’s cackle could be heard all the way in Day region at Elain’s attempts at filthy jokes. 

“What’s in the box?” Elain motioned toward Gwyn, who eagerly unsnapped the locks and turned it around for everyone to get a better look. Elain’s hazy eyes took a moment to focus. 

“One of my vocal kiddos brought me this bracelet kit for Solstice last year,” She beamed, fiddling with the bracelet strings before passing them around. “I haven’t found time to make any yet, so I figured tonight would be perfect. Silly, harmless fun. There’s enough for me to make bracelets for all my students and for you all too, if you’d like.” 

Elain accepted her string, rubbing it between her fingers. In all her twenty six years, she’d never experienced something as simple as making a beaded bracelet with friends. Lighthearted, easy fun had never been a choice. 

And now it was.

So she grabbed another string, scooped a pile of beads and charms from the box, and permitted herself to create a memory that in years time, she’d hold dear to her heart. 

The last bottle of wine had just been cracked open as the doorbell shrieked. Emerie, closest to the door, opened it and blinked. 

“We heard there was a party.” 

Elain watched Nesta’s head whip toward the front door, mouth falling open as Cassian stomped into the house, followed closely by Rhys and…

“Azriel,” Elain breathed, not as quiet as she thought. His gaze found hers immediately, shooting a wink in her direction. 

She didn’t know where to look first. 

The short sleeve black shirt that seemed to suffocate his arms.

The gray sweatpants that hung loosely off his hips. 

The backward black cap. 

The molten hazel eyes. 

The smirk that always sent her heart into overdrive. 

She didn’t know where to look first, so she just…looked. 

And if he gave her shit about it, or tried to joke about her ogling him, she’d blame it on the three and a half glasses of wine she’d consumed. 

Elain stood, blocking out Rhys and Feyre’s conversation about Nyx’s bedtime routine with their sitter named Madja, and completely ignoring Cassian’s lame attempts at flirting with Nesta (who only seemed to be enjoying said attempts due to the large amount of vodka in her system). 

She walked right over to Azriel, whose grin was blinding. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What have you been up to, beautiful? You look like you’ve been having a good time.” 

Elain offered a lazy smile of her own, extending her hand and wiggling her fingers as the other was clenched behind her back. “Follow me.” She led him to the back porch, sticking out her tongue at Cassian’s wolf whistle (which earned him a smack on the chest from Nesta), before shutting the door for privacy. 

“I got you something,” Elain said, shaking her head at the mistake. Giggles erupted from her throat. “Well, technically, I made you something.” In a movement so swift she almost lost her balance, she presented her clenched fist toward him, revealing a pair of bracelets. She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I know you have my necklace, but now we have matching good luck charms, too.” 

Azriel blinked. 

Elain bit her lip, stained cherry red from the wine. “Is it stupid? We don’t have to wear them. They’re probably not good anyway since I’m a bit tipsy and couldn’t really see the colors of the beads but–.”

“Put it on me.” 

The rambling paused. “What?” 

He presented his wrist, saying thickly, “Put it on me.” 

A relieved breath escaped her lips as she secured the pink bracelet around his wrist. It took her five tries to finally knot the string, playfully pouting when Azriel teased her about watching her alcohol intake. The middle beads made up her name, and the blue bracelet she had him tie around her own wrist featured his name, too. A claiming of the sort. 

“Miryam told me that she and Drakon used to wear a matching set of rings on the day of their competition to bring them luck,” Elain hiccupped, covering her mouth when another set of drunken giggles left her mouth. Azriel leaned against the back of a chair on the porch, arms crossed and eyes mesmerized by the current state of his partner. “Cresseida and Varian have matching warm-up jackets, and I know Kallias and Viviane have each other’s initials tattooed on the inside of their wrists. They kiss the tattoos before they skate. I wanted us to have something, too. Even if it’s just a silly beaded bracelet made after one too many glasses of merlot.” 

Elain felt herself being pulled into Azriel’s chest. She sank into him, nuzzling her face into the fabric of his shirt. He held her to him, fingers running through her honey-gold strands. 

“I hope you know I’m never taking this off,” Azriel said, lips brushing against her hair. She smelled faintly of jasmine, honey, and the wine she’d consumed. Familiar and intoxicating. 

Elain, arms still wrapped tightly around Azriel’s torso, tilted her head back to say, “That’s the point.” 

They were content to embrace each other in the dark of the night. At least, Azriel truly was. But it was Elain who pulled away first, just enough so there was a sliver of space between their bodies. Azriel folded his arms over his chest, face easy as he watched Elain look him over unabashedly. 

“Checking me out?” He teased, lips quirking. 

He expected her to flush like she always did. And of course she did. But the rose color that blossomed high on her cheeks was accompanied by a sultry voice. “And if I am?” 

She stepped forward again, and Azriel audibly swallowed as her fingernail traced the dark ink along his bicep. Her movements were slow, exploratory, and hell he could do nothing but stand there and let her touch him. 

Her fingers grazed the tattoos on his neck next. Azriel bit his lip to stifle a groan before murmuring, “Then that makes two of us.” 

Indeed, because he was growing less subtle whenever his eyes lingered on her body over the last few days. The urge to touch her, taste her, had been far more consuming now than in the beginning of their partnership. 

But he wouldn’t touch her, nor would he taste her. 

Not yet. 

Not in this state. 

“Az?” She whispered into the night, index finger tracing the sharpness of his jaw, the outline of his lips. His pants visibly tightened, and he prayed to whatever entity existed that she didn’t look down, lest she be uncomfortable. 

“Mm?” 

“What’s it like?” She asked softly, thumbing the plushness of his bottom lip. Her eyes focused on his mouth, savoring the warmth of his breath, before saying, “To be kissed?” 

Every piece of Azriel froze. 

His thoughts and his bones and his blood and his breathing and his heart. Time was suspended as he let the question sink in.

“I’ve never been kissed before,” Elain went on, eyes a shade of deep brown. Azriel couldn’t, wouldn’t, tear his own gaze away from her. Not while she was looking at him as if she might ravish him wholly. “And I’ve never kissed anyone myself but I…” She swallowed then, the only outward show of nerves. “I think I’d like to kiss you one day.” 

Azriel’s heart leaped. He didn’t care that her words were a bit slurred and thick from the wine. Didn’t care that she was revealing a piece of herself while she wasn’t sober. Despite the alcohol in her veins, he knew her words were truthful. “I think I’d like to kiss you, too.” 

One moment, Elain’s eyes were roving over his face, his body, and her hands were tracing and gently gripping any sliver of exposed skin. The next second, her lips quivered and eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “But I can’t.” 

Azriel’s face fell, and he gripped her wrist in his hand, their bracelets glinting in the moonlight as he cradled her hand against his cheek. “Why not?” He asked in a broken rasp. 

Elain pulled away, although every instinct in her body told her not to. He looked visibly in pain, as if her words had sliced through his chest. “There’s too many reasons why we can’t do this. As much as I want to, we just…can’t.” 

He would get no more information out of her, he knew. So he accepted her answer with a curt nod of his head and released her wrist. He already missed the feeling of her skin. 

“I have a pretty good idea what some of those reasons are,” Azriel said. “But let me just say one thing.” And because he was a greedy bastard, he stepped forward and placed either of his hands on the sides of her neck, thumbs stroking her skin. Beneath her neck, he could feel the rapid thrum of her pulse. “If any of your reservations are because of…me…I need you to know I would never force you, never pressure you, to do anything. If anything ever happens between us, it will be on your terms, when you are ready.” 

Elain’s eyes flashed, Azriel’s face the depiction of wary. Full of conviction, she said, “None of those reasons are because of you, Azriel. Please never think that. I trust you with my body as much as I trust you with my life.” 

Azriel groaned, forehead bumping against hers. “Fuck, Elain. Tell me you understand I’d take care of you. Tell me you know that.” 

She nodded sheepishly. 

“No,” Instinctually, he gripped her chin between his fingers, never hard enough to cause pain. Only to keep her there with him just a bit longer. “Tell me.” 

She stood straighter, chest brushing against his own. Elain gauged the raw emotion in his eyes and said, “I know you would take care of me. In every way possible if I allowed you to.”

Azriel dipped his chin once, kissing her nose before breathing, “Good.” And because his mouth was just a hair's breadth away from her lips, and because the temptation to claim her was so strong, he pulled away and offered, “How about I take you home, yeah? You look like you’re going to pass out any minute.” 

Elain chuckled after stifling a well timed yawn. In her tipsy haze, she whispered, “Only if you promise to carry me to my bed if I fall asleep in the car.” 

And yes, Elain had fallen asleep within minutes of strapping her seatbelt. It took Azriel a moment to fish out her apartment key from her purse, but once he found it, he carefully maneuvered Elain out of his car, cradling her to his chest as he expertly unlocked the door. 

Even without the promise, he still would have carried her to bed anyway. The thought of changing her into something more comfortable infiltrated his mind, but he decided against it. He wasn't sure how she would feel in the morning if she knew he had seen her, if only for a brief moment, in a vulnerable state. 

So he laid her on the bed, peeling off her shoes before securing her under the puffy, white comforter blanket. After some rummaging in her bathroom cabinets, he found a pack of makeup remover wipes, and gingerly scrubbed her face. Even with all of the jostling, she remained fast asleep and as peaceful as a dove. 

Azriel knew he should’ve left right then, but he perched himself on the side of her bed and gently stroked her now makeup free cheek. He knew what this feeling meant inside his chest. The feeling he wanted to let erupt, but one he had to keep contained until she felt the same way. 

“You have my heart, Elain Archeron,” He whispered into the silent night, kissing her cheek before he stood from the bed. “I hope one day you let me into yours.” 

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: Here

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics