#the headache is in my eyes cheekbones and was moving into my ear but the painkillers have paused that. once it passes into

[steampoweredskeleton]

What a wildly shit day

[mattslolita]

my goodies - m. sturniolo

in which ... a girl who was once jaded at a halloween party endures in a night of fun when she meets the cute guy with the vampire teeth — and he gives her a night of memories. ( matt x black!fem reader )

warnings ; smut, unprotected piv ( wrap it bitches! ), oral ( female receiving )

"𝒊 𝒃𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒃𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

"girl, this party better be worth it," you say, crossing her arms across your chest as you step out the uber with your friend jaycee.

"girl, it will be!" jaycee grinned encouragingly, as she hooked her arm with yours. "tara invited us both, by the way."

"oh, word?" you say, a smirk on your face, "haven't seen my girl in a minute, i miss her!"

"she invited a lot of her friends, maybe you might make some new ones too girl!" jaycee tells you happily, as you both make your way towards the venue.

skeletons, zombies, fake webs and all kinds of halloween decorations littered the venue as you looked around, taking in the sight — you came dressed as a cheerleader from euphoria, and you could feel the skirt lowkey riding up your ass, causing you to tug down on it a bit as you both walked arm in arm.

when you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted with the smell of alcohol and faintly weed which intoxicated your senses. you were glad those were provided, because you had forgotten to bring your own after getting ready.

your brown skin glowed in the dimly lit venue underneath all the lights, and just as you were getting a headache tara's smile could be seen as she was approaching you both.

"jaycee! y/n!" tara says excitedly and as she's moving closer you can smell the faint pink whitney while she reaches her arms out towards you, "i'm so glad you guys made it!"

"glad to be here boo, i haven't seen you in a cool minute!" you tell the shorter girl as you pull her in for a hug. "now tell me why my ass is already getting a headache?"

"nuh uh, you're not gonna do that, y/n!" jaycee said with a small glare.

"she's right, there's no way you're leaving!" tara added with a shake of her head. she held a cup up towards you and you took with raised eyebrows. "drink this and have fun, babe!"

with a sigh you took the cup from tara's hand and peer in it before tipping the cup up and downing it one go, shaking your head a bit from the burning sensation.

jaycee giggled at your reaction, as tara dragged you both over to meet some of her friends — everyone you had met was really nice to you, some guys even looking to flirt with you at one point. you met tara's ex boyfriend jake who you thought was funny as shit, and his best friend johnnie who was emo but hey — you liked emo boys.

jaycee had eventually got dragged away by a cute brunette boy who wanted to dance with her, so you stood where the drinks were at and refilled, looking around with a bored expression.

when you turned around to get another cup, you felt a smooth breeze whip by you as hands were on your waist, causing you to turn around.

"sorry about that," a cute brunette man says to you, his hands on your waist as he walks to the side of you.

"you good," you say to him.

immediately you notice how attractive he was, his eyes and cheekbones being the thing that captured you first. he grins down at you, causing you to bite your lip as you tilt your head at him.

"i saw you over here, you look bored," he whispered to you, leaning down to your ear as he played with the hem of your skirt.

"yeah?" you answered him with a playful grin, "well my home girl is dancing with some guy and i don't wanna dance anymore."

"i'm matt," he introduced himself.

"y/n."

you both look at each other for what feels like an eternity — he goes to gently grab your waist again and gently rubs his thumb back and forth on the fabric of your skirt causing a wetness to form on your core as you stared up at him.

"you lookin' to have fun, sweetheart?" matt whispers in your ear, and you clench your legs in response to the action.

"fuck yes," you say back excitedly.

you quickly latch your hand onto his which he accepts gratefully, as you guide him through the crowd looking for an empty room — as you're passing both jaycee and tara catch a glimpse of you and jaycee grabs onto tara's waist and pretends to hit from behind as tara holds her hands and moves her butt on her, causing you to stick up your manicured middle finger at them in response.

finally reaching an empty room, matt almost shoves you inside and your back is immediately pressed against the door as he's pulled your neck to meet him in a heated, hungry kiss.

you instantly wrap your arms around his neck as both your tongues battle for dominance — matt's arms go down to hoist you up by your waist as his hands roughly latch onto your thighs.

"jump," he grunts, and you oblige, jumping into his arms and attacking his lips once more.

never breaking away from the greedy kiss, your lips entangle one another as matt turns and walks you towards the bed, laying you down on your back as he hovers over you.

"you know at first," he says, his hands rubbing up and down your sides as he places wet, open mouthed kisses to your neck, "i was thinking of how much i want my cock inside you."

"then i realized," he smirks, opening his mouth to reveal the pearly white vampire teeth he showcased — he ran his tongue over the sharp canines causing you to whimper as you pulled him down to lick over the teeth yourself.

"i need to taste you, angel."

another whimper escapes your mouth as you look up him at him with your doe eyes, causing his dick to twitch in his pants — he leaves more open mouthed kisses along your neck before signaling you to take off the top.

you discard it quickly along with your skirt, revealing your matching blue bra and lace panties, causing matt's mouth to salivate at the sight. "fuck, blue is my favorite color."

"you better not ruin it then, especially if you wanna see more of me," you grin at him with a wink, causing him to grip onto your thighs.

he's at the foot of the bed, and he brings your thighs up close to him — matt leaves slow, deliberate kisses along your thighs on both sides all whilst keeping eye contact with you. your core was now soaked beyond belief, all you wanted was for him to do something.

"matt p-please, i need you," you whine out, and he flashes you a taunting smile, those pointed teeth flashing in the dim moonlight.

"don't worry baby, i'm gonna take care of you," matt promises, his hands digging into your brown flesh softly.

he leans down in between your legs, his breath now fanning over your clothed pussy. he presses a kiss to your clothed core, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.

"p-please..."

in a matter of seconds, matt pulled your panties down your ankles and threw them somewhere in the room, getting level with your pussy again — like a starved man, his hands grip onto your thighs once more as his tongue attaches to your throbbing bud, sucking slowly while keeping eye contact with you.

"oh, fuck!" you whimper out, your back arching as you grip the sheets beneath you.

and that's all it takes for matt to dive in, his nose on your clit as he laps you up feverishly, his tongue greedily delving into your delectable taste.

"fuck angel, you taste so damn good," he grunts out, his hips rutting into the mattress as his erection is very prominent.

matt continues nipping and sucking at your clit, and you're pretty sure at one point you could feel him spell his name with his tongue judging from the movements of his mouth. you're a moaning and whimpering mess, your pussy clenching as you feel your orgasm approaching quickly.

"matt i'm close," you manage to breathe out, your back somehow arched even more for him.

"yeah? you gonna cum on my face, angel?" matt says, "come on baby, give it to me."

the tightness in your stomach finally snaps, and you release all over matt's face as you let out a high-pitched moan — he's quick to lap up all your juices, licking his lips with a satisfied grin.

he comes back up and crashes his lips back onto yours, and you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. matt pulls away quickly to discard his pants and boxers, his large cock finally free from its confines as its dripping with precum.

you salivate at the sight before you — he's fucking huge. you hoped he would fit.

matt strokes his tip along your cunt bathing his cock in your juices, causing you to both moan at the feeling before he inches himself inside you slowly.

"fuck," you both moan at the same time, your hands immediately finding their way to his back.

"you're so fucking tight, shit," matt grunts, fully pushing inside you and bottoming out.

without giving you time to adjust to his size, he begins slamming into you at a relentless pace, causing the headboards in the room to creak.

"fuck matt, fuck!" you scream out, your back arched as his cock hits your sweet spot deliciously.

"you feel so fucking good baby," he grunts out, interlacing his hand with yours as he continues fucking into you.

"right there, baby!" you moan out, looking up at him through your lashes at his fucked out expression, his silver horse chain dangling above you.

matt's eyebrows creased and he felt his orgasm approaching as he watched drool begin to form at the creases of your mouth, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

"fucking you so good you're cock drunk, angel?" matt teases you, never letting up on his pace as he fucked you, "i'm gonna fuck my seed into you."

"y-yes matt, n-need it inside me," you blabbered out, your nails digging into his back, "m' so close..."

"fuck, i'm close too baby," matt moans, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he leans down to give you a open mouthed wet kiss, "cum for me, angel..."

with a pornographic moan of his name, for the second time your orgasm rippled through you as it spilled out of your pussy — soon after matt came, painting your walls white as he helped the both of you ride out your high.

he pulled out of you, but shoved two of his ringed fingers inside to keep his juices in there, grinning up at you as he did so.

"that was the best orgasm i've ever had," you breathed out as you fell beside each other.

"think you wanna let it happen more often?" matt asks you with a playful grin as he turns to look at you.

"definitely," you giggled, then your eyes widen and you shook your head. "fuck, i'm never gonna hear the end of it from jaycee and tara."

"good, you can let em know how good i fuck you," matt said, placing a kiss to your cheek as he gets up from the bed. "let me clean you up, angel."

( lilly's section 💌 )

AHHHH thank you all SAURRR much for 1.1k, i'm so grateful for each & every one of you 🫶 i love you all endlessly, & i'm so sorry this took long to publish😭

@muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @thenickgirl @mattsivy ❤‍🩹

[bruisedboys]

SIRIUS BLACK THOUGHTS??? YES.

sirius black who takes care of his shy! gf when she’s ill even though she keeps saying she’s isn’t cause she doesn’t wanna be a bother. he would be so doting and not letting her move an inch once he finally gets her to admit she isn’t feeling well.

hi yes I adore this idea tysm. doting sirius x shy!reader is my weakness fr

gn!reader 0.7k words

Sirius smooths his hand over the side of your head where you’re laying in his lap, his other hand set on your back between your shoulder blades. You’ve gone quiet, which normally wouldn’t worry him, you’re always quiet, but right now you’re quieter than quiet.

Sirius can feel your tense shoulders, your refusal to relax. Something’s eating you up. Sirius reckons it’s his job to find out what that something is.

“Y/N, honey?”

You make a noise like a tired hum. It’s adorable. Sirius thinks his heart falls out of his chest. He presses his hand to your back, an anchor in case you need it.

“Are you okay? You’re quiet.”

You huff and shift in his lap to look up at him. You look exhausted, but still pretty as ever.

“I’m always quiet,” you say, your voice tired and raspy, your tone much too close to self-deprecating for Sirius’s liking.

He shakes his head. “S’not what I meant,” he says, though he thinks you know that.

Sirius waits. And waits some more. When you don’t say anything he sits you up so he can look at you, hoping to read your features and figure you out. Only, when he grips your shoulders to pull you upright his fingers brush your neck and he almost gasps out loud. Your skin is scalding.

“Baby,” he says gently, helping you into a sitting position. He keeps one hand on your shoulder and presses the other to your forehead. It’s just as hot as the rest of your face. “You’re hot as a furnace. Are you feeling sick?”

Your eyebrows pinch together and you bite your lip like you always do when you’re nervous.

“A bit,” you say weakly, staring at a point over Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius thinks you’re lying. He doesn’t say so, because he’s currently feeling very sorry for you.

“Yeah?” He asks softly, quietly. He brings his hand to your jaw, drags his thumb over your cheekbone. “Is it a headache? Sore throat?”

You shrug and your eyes droop and your head grows heavier in Sirius’s hand. “Just sore,” you say, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “All over.”

Sirius thinks he might burst into tears, but that wouldn’t be very helpful. He opts for a hug, sliding his hand to the back of your head so he can press your face to his chest. You sigh, and it’s a tiny noise and barely there but it makes Sirius’s heart do a backflip anyway. He rubs your back with his free hand, smoothing lines into your shirt.

“M’sorry you’re feeling sick, darling,” he says, ducking his head so his mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear. “Do you feel like having a bath? Or do you just wanna go to bed?”

You shift so your cheek is pressed to Sirius’s chest, right over his heart. “Bath would be nice,” you mumble.

Sirius helps you up, not that you need it but he finds he suddenly wants to do everything for you. He sits you on the lid of the toilet, turns the bath taps on and grabs a clean towel from the cupboard.

Meanwhile, you’re half asleep and struggling to keep your head up. Sirius’s heart pangs and he’s quick to cross the bathroom to take your face in his hands.

“Darling,” he says gently, hoping his abnormally cold hands feel good on your hot, hot skin. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

You hum, lift your heavy head to meet his eyes. Yours are glassy, tired, and so so pretty. Sirius blinks. It’s bizzare, how pretty you are even when you’re feeling so horrible.

“Yeah,” you say, voice raspy. “But, um. Can you help me?”

Sirius nods vehemently. “Yeah, of course, sweetheart.”

He helps you out of your clothes, strips you down til you’re bare. It’s a miracle how not shy you are about it all. Sirius thinks maybe you’re feeling so sick that you can’t find it in you to care. Still, he tries his best to keep his eyes on your face the whole time. He’s nothing if not a gentleman.

He helps you into the tub, sits on the tiles next to the bath and holds your hand once you’re comfortable.

“S’the temperature okay?” He asks you, ever the worry-wart when it comes to you. He’d checked the temperature three times.

“Mmm,” you hum, eyes closed. A whisper of a smile graces your lips. “Perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Sirius says, unable to help himself.

You groan and lift your free hand out of the warm water to cover your eyes. Sirius grins. There’s the shyness he knows and loves.

[somber-sapphic]

Of Fevers and Fossils

It's been forever since you had a date with Natasha and of course you'd managed to get yourself sick. Your body seemed adamant on betraying you. (natasha x reader)

Word Count: 952

-----

Natasha glanced over at you and grinned, eyes filled with joy. She’d wanted to come to the American Museum of Natural History for months, and you’d finally gotten the chance to take her. It was supposed to be a perfect date, the two of you would see all of the exhibits you could, and then you’d go out to eat at her favorite restaurant- Subway. Your girlfriend was weird.

It should’ve been perfect. But your body had other plans. It always seemed to have other plans. You’d woken up two days ago with a stuffy nose and the beginning of a headache settling behind your eyes, but you’d hoped to just sleep it off. For the first time in a long time, you’d taken it easy. It didn’t work.

You sniffled quietly and rubbed your runny nose on your sleeve, trying to ignore just how gross it was, and smiled back at Nat. You were ruining your date outfit. Thankfully, your date outfit wasn’t that fancy. A nice t-shirt and jeans and a cardigan for warmth. You’d get any semblance of warmth that you could get. 

“Baby isn’t this amazing?” She gushed, gesturing around you at the Hall of Gems. 

“‘S gorgeous Tasha.” You managed, the few words scraping mercilessly at your throat. She gave you an odd look, frowning slightly. You wouldn’t ruin this night.

“What’s up? You all right?” She walked towards you and took your wrists, studying your face carefully. You shrugged her off and stifled a sneeze into your shoulder. God, you needed a tissue. 

“Just a little overwhelmed,” You replied, forcing another smile. She nodded her understanding, but still looked a little worried. 

“You wanna go somewhere a little less busy?” People were swarming around you, eager to catch a glimpse of the beautiful minerals spread across the room. This time of night was supposed to be quiet and you were upset with the museum's definition of ‘quiet’. 

“No, ‘s long ‘s you’re happy.” It was getting harder and harder to keep yourself oriented and you could tell that Natasha was catching on. She grabbed your arm and stepped a little closer, bridging the already small gap between the two of you. 

You closed your mouth around a harsh cough, cheeks puffing out with the effort of containing the cough. She touched your cheek and her eyebrows furrowed deeply. 

“Oh, my Y/n.” She brushed a thumb across your cheekbone and you felt tears fill your eyes. You’d ruined it. That’s all you could do, ruin things that she loved. “Hey, hey no don’t cry, it’s going to be okay,” She moved to kiss your forehead, and you broke. 

A tiny sob tore away from you, but it quickly turned into a wet, painful cough. When the coughing didn’t stop her hands moved from your face to your back. 

“Maybe you should sit down,” She took your elbows and moved you to one of the small uncomfortable benches, rubbing your back as your crackling lungs continued to try and expel the virus clinging to them. 

Passersby glared at the two of you, but the looks Natasha gave them were enough to make even the bravest heroes feel fear. 

“C’mon Y/n/n, I need you to try and breathe for me. I know it hurts, but you’ve gotta try.” She murmured, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. After a few failed attempts and a lot of soft words from Natasha, you were breathing again and whispering apologies that seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

“Oh god Natty, I’m so so sorry, I-I was fine and then, I, please don’t be mad at me, we can still go to dinner, please don’t yell at me.” You choked out, tears rolling down your fever-flushed cheeks. Natasha smirked, but not in a mean way.

“Okay, first, no one is mad at you and no one is going to yell. You clearly didn’t mean to get sick, but you are, and that’s okay. I love you my detka. Second, I’m not going to make you sit through dinner feeling this bad. We’re going to the pharmacy and then we’re going home. Am I clear?” Her words were stern but the tone was nothing but warmth. 

In response, you sneezed into your fist, grimaced, and wiped your nose on your wrist again. Natasha winced her sympathy and kissed your forehead again. 

“You feel pretty shitty, huh?”

“Think ‘m dying.” You choked out, dropping your head on her shoulder. She chuckled quietly and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Someone scoffed at you, wrinkling his nose with a sneer. 

“Disgusting.” He growled, earning a look of pure hate from Natasha. 

“C’mon love, we’re leaving.” She kissed your cheek and the man gave another disgusted sound, this time at the kiss. Natasha started to stand, but you caught her wrist. Normally, you would’ve joined her in calling out the asshole, but you were too tired. 

“Tasha, please…” You tugged exhaustedly on her arm, before directing another chesty cough into your shirt. She flipped the old man off and ignored the angry rant he tried to throw her way. 

“Sorry Y/n, we’re leaving. Just ignore the jackass.” She gave you a gentle smile and you nodded, forcing your lips up in response. She pulled you up and soothed the quiet whimper that escaped your lips. Everything hurt. 

“Yeah, I know. Geez, you’re warmer than earlier. What am I gonna do with you, huh?” 

“Hold me?” She chuckled and held you a little closer, helping you out of the building and into a cab. “Hurts Tasha…” 

“I know baby, just one quick stop and we’ll get you in bed.”

[abiiors]

Naps

Matty Healy Drabble

A/N: I was only listening to Sufjan Stevens while writing this because I need this to be the softest thing you’ve read today, okay? I just do!

This was based on an ask! (My requests are open)

The clacking of your keyboard mixes with the blaring song in your ears as you finish firing off your last email for the day. Shutting your laptop with satisfaction, you get up and crack your back.

You’re fortunate enough to be making a decent pay out of working freelance. Meaning you can practically work out of anywhere that has a stable internet connection and that includes the 1975 tour bus. 

A small string of curses catches your attention and you instantly recognise Matty’s voice. You haven’t seen him all day, and now he’s back on the bus. You pick up your laptop and make your way to him.

He looks thoroughly harassed as he tries to wrestle the guitar back into its case. His eyes are practically shutting on their own and his shoulders look all soft and droopy.

‘What’s up with you?’ you ask as you walk up behind him. 

‘Oh, hey,’ he tries to smile but it just turns into a grimace. ‘Just got a bit of a headache. Are you done for the day?’

‘Yea, just.’ You set the laptop aside and push his wild hair out of his eyes, ‘have you been overworking yourself?’

The quiet look he gives is enough to implicate him. He has been working extra hard, you both know it. But reprimanding is not what he needs right now. You touch his stubbly cheek with one hand and he leans into it, closing his eyes blissfully.

‘Come on,’ you instruct gently. He lets you grab his hand and lead him to your little cabin without question. ‘When was the last time you slept?’

‘Um, dunno,’ he mumbles. ‘I have been awake since 5, I think.’

You wince at this. 5 is truly an ungodly hour to wake up at.  

He slumps onto the small bed and heaves a big sigh. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than they have been in the last week. His long eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones as he struggles to stay awake. You take a step closer to him and run your hands through his hair. His arms come up around your waist and he gently tugs toward him so that you’re standing between his legs. Then he rests his head on your stomach and holds onto you tightly. 

‘Let’s take a nap, okay?’ you whisper.

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘You’re gonna have to lay down for that.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ he’s still nodding on your stomach but he makes no move to detach himself from you. 

He’s just so soft and needy right now; it’s all very adorable. You can’t help it as you pepper a few kisses on his forehead, his closed eyes. His mouth blooms into a tiny smile at that. 

After much cajoling, he takes his shoes off and buries himself under the blankets. That leaves you with just enough space to snuggle in. As soon as you are settled in the bed, he’s back at it again. 

His arm is around your waist, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. His breath tickles a bit but you continue combing your fingers through his hair. It doesn’t even take two minutes before his breathing evens out and you start to hear soft snores. 

For good measure, you press another kiss onto his forehead. He is so warm and soft, so comforting and lovely that it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself being lulled to sleep. 

‘I love you,’ you whisper to him just as you’re about to fall asleep. 

There’s no way he can hear you right now, let alone respond but you swear you feel his arms tighten around your waist. 

[bookwormscififan]

Hold Me, Kiss Me, Love Me

A/N: One single image in my mind and you’re getting this.

—

Sometimes it was the simplest things that can make or break one’s interpretation of a day.

Mare hummed to himself as he walked home, laptop bag over his shoulder and hand tucked casually in his jeans pocket. With his other hand, he sent Mad a text to let him know he was on his way home, then he tilted his head to feel the afternoon sunlight on his face.

It was nice to have someone to come home to, he decided, smiling at a little old lady passing him. Someone to talk to about work, to brighten the day if his students gave him a headache.

As he walked, a chilling thought surfaced in his mind, wondering why Mad hadn’t replied to his message. He pulled his phone out and checked his messages, seeing that Mad had read the text but didn’t reply, and he sent himself home after a glance to be sure he was alone.

“Mad? Dear heart?” He called as he looked around the house, not seeing Mad in the living room or kitchen. “Where are you, darling?”

He started when he heard a soft gasp coming from the library, sending himself to the room in a blink, and he let out a soft sigh when he saw Mad curled in the corner with his face pressed to his knees.

“Dearest,” Mare began, slowly approaching Mad and crouching in front of him. “What’s happened, love?”

“I tripped,” Mad sobbed, lifting his head and letting Mare see the small graze on his cheek. “Then I banged my knee on the corner of the living room table, which made it start bleeding, and now I can’t reach the freaking book I want to read.”

“Oh, my sweet,” Mare cooed, lifting his hand to Mad’s cheek and gently brushing his thumb over the graze. “Today hasn’t been kind to you, has it?”

Mad shook his head, looking at Mare with sad watery eyes, sniffling as Mare rested a hand over the plaster on his knee and leaned in closer.

“Maybe I can make it better,” Mare whispered, moving in to kiss Mad, shaping his lips around Mad’s and pushing, making Mad lean back. Mad’s hands found their way to Mare’s shoulders, then locked behind his neck to hold him close as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

Mare pulled away with a soft smile, still holding Mad’s cheek and brushing his cheekbone with a thumb, chuckling when Mad’s hold on his neck made it hard to lean back too far.

“Better?” He asked, tilting his head when Mad ran his fingers through the short hairs there. There was a light blush dusting Mad’s cheeks, making his freckles stand out, and the sadness in his eyes had been replaced with softness, a look only for Mare to see.

“What about my book?” Mad asked, laughing when Mare groaned and pulled him in for a tight embrace.

“I can only do so much!” Mare grumbled playfully, turning his face to nuzzle at Mad’s neck. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you too,” Mad murmured into Mare’s ear, holding him tight.

————————

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[dandelionflowery]

I'm good too!

We had a storm recently so I went up onto the roof to get branches down and oddly enough that was fun

Ok so

I saw a thing in a tiktok video where they said:

Kidbapper: if you scream i'll kiss you

And so my first reaction was Remus screaming bc his kidnapper Sirius was hot

But then my phone suggested kidnappers plural so my brain went to regulily kidnappers and james kidnapped

And then I went, why not both

So, introducing: the Black Family Kidnappers (Now Hiring!)

...as usual with me, clicking the see more button opens up a lot of text lol

His blindfold gets removed.

James Potter blinks at the black haired blur in front of him, who must have been the one to remove the blindfold.

The black haired blur backs away, letting James blurrily make out a second person.

Someone- he's not quite sure which one, but it's a masculine voice- says, "Should we give him his glasses?"

The other- a more feminine voice- replies, "I suppose it can't hurt us too badly, and it would probably keep'em from getting a headache. We want him comfortable, remember?"

The redheaded blob moves out of James's vision while the black headed blob stands guard, presumably watching James, although the figure is too far away and too blurry for him to really make out where they are looking.

As he tries to spot the redhead, he becomes aware that he is tied to a chair.

Well this is an interesting predicament, he thinks.

Long red hair brushes his face as the person bends over him.

The face that appears upside-down in his vision is less blurry than her companion's due to the fact that James is short sighted (i think that's the term), which lets him see that there is a decent chance that she was the feminine voice.

However, her proximity also makes her blurry because her face is almost on his. The woman- probably- seems familiar, but James can't quite place her.

She slides the cold metal branches of his glasses onto his ears and straightens up, and suddenly James can see again.

The other person has short scruffy black hair, impressively sharp cheekbones and a scowl.

The redhead steps back into James's field of vision, going to stand next to her companion.

“Evans!?”

~~☆~~

Black Family Kidnappers

Now hiring!

Founders: Hesper Black

Notable members: (Black Family Tree + others)

Current members: Cassiopeia Black (retired), Narcissa Black (not active), Sirius Black, Regulus Black

Targets: Whoever needs to be taught a lesson

Call: [x] or go to [x] on Saturday at 6:15 PM

This sign is only visible to people we have already considered for the application process. It would be useless to tell the authorities about this sign, as it is protected by many secrecy spells.

Lily Evans stared at the poster in shock. Surely kidnappers wouldn't be so dumb as to name their founding members, notable members and currently active members as well as their address on a sign in the middle of London... Would they?

As she glanced at the sign again, the small print caught her eye.

Leaning closer, she read it.

"Secrecy spells? That's... descriptive."

She reread the small print.

"'This sign is only visible to people we have already considered for the application process.' ... They've considered... me as a kidnapper??"

Suddenly she realized that if anyone came by, they'd most likely wonder why she was staring at a blank wall.

She stepped back and looked around. There was no one nearby.

She shook her head.

"Why am I still standing here?" she asked the empty street.

After all, it's not like she was actually considering the job, right?

...Right?

~☆~

When she got home, she pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of her bag and stared at it.

What had possessed her?

Why had she taken the flyer?

She tried to reason that it was because she would tell the authorities, but the flyer's "secrecy spells" meant at the very least that she would not be able to talk, and at worst she might be disfigured or even killed.

Lily groaned and leaned back in her chair.

'Targets: Whoever needs to be taught a lesson' floated around her mind on a loop.

She knew full well why she had picked up the flyer, she just didn't want to admit it to herself.

She was actually considering the job.

~☆~

When Lily showed up at the address that had been on the flyer, she found herself face to face with a short blond man who appeared to be similar in age to her. He stared at her nervously before asking, "Are you here because of the flyer as well?"

His voice was surprisingly high, and if Lily had been feeling unkind, she would have called it squeaky.

She nodded wordlessly and put her hand on the door handle.

“...You ready?” she asked.

“I've come this far,” he answered, although he sounded somewhat dubious.

Lily nodded again and pulled the door open, letting the man enter before her.

She wondered briefly what his name was, but decided against asking; she knew that she wanted to stay anonymous for the time being, so chances were so would he.

The room they entered was extremely sparse, furnished only by a door on the opposite wall and four uncomfortable looking chairs arranged in a semi-circle, two of which were occupied by two pale men who had to have been related.

The man with waist length black hair jumped up and offered his hand to Lily and the blond man.

“I'm Sirius,” he said happily. “You must be Lily and Peter!”

Lily found herself nodding, and she could see in her peripheral vision that the blond man- Peter- was also nodding as he shook Sirius's hand.

“So if you're Sirius, am I right in assuming you're Regulus?” she asked the still sitting man, whose curls were grazing the bottom of his chin.

He widened his eyes in surprise but kept silent.

“Reggie, we're all going to be working together, you should talk,” Sirius said to his companion. To Lily and Peter, he said, “Forgive him, my baby brother is not very talkative.”

“Am not a baby,” Regulus grumbled.

“Anyways-” Sirius went on, as if his brother hadn't spoken, “I'm glad you're here, I've been dying of boredom since we got here.”

“What are you guys doing?” Peter asked.

“Waiting for-”

“Our boss,” Regulus interrupted.

“Reggie, that's what I was going to say, I do know the rules of the job you know.

“The rules?” Peter echoed.

“We're not allowed to use members’ real names when we're in here.”

“So your names aren't Regulus and Sirius?” Lily pointed out drily.

Sirius glanced at Regulus, who merely glared at his brother. Neither answered Lily's question.

“We won't tell anyone you broke the rules,” Peter piped up after a minute of silence.

“Well, we didn't. Not exactly,” Sirius finally said. “We're-”

“I said nothing and I'm blaming you if she gets mad,” Regulus said quickly.

Sirius looked at Lily and Peter, who shrugged apologetically.

“As I was saying, we… I,” he said, rolling his eyes at his brother, “didn't break the rules. We're not members yet,” he explained.

“Really? But on the sign-” Lily started.

“Great-Au- um, Boss, told us that we would be able to recruit you two more easily if the only remaining members weren't her and Noble.”

“Cassiopeia and Narcissa?” Lily asked.

“See I told you putting their real names on the sign was a bad idea,” Regulus hissed.

“Okay fine, you were right,” Sirius answered begrudgingly. “I didn't think they'd actually read it.”

“Just because you don't read doesn't mean others don't.”

Lily giggled as someone came in through the other door and said, “Boys! Stop fighting.”

The woman who had just come into the room looked old enough to be Lily's great-great-grandmother but what was most noticeable was the change in the Black Brothers behaviors’. Well, Sirius's anyways.

“Sorry Great-Aun-... Boss.”

“Mmh. Oh, hello children,” Cassiopeia Black said, noticing Lily and Peter.

Usually Lily bristled at being called a child, but somehow coming from this powerful woman, it just sounded like another term for apprentice, or something in that vein.

“You must be Pettigrew and Evans.” Peter and Lily nodded. “And I see you've met my great-nephews, Sirius and Regulus.” More nodding. “Wonderful. Now, sit down.”

Sirius, Lily and Peter sat down, and Lily caught Regulus smirking. Glancing up to make sure Cassiopeia wasn't watching, she stuck her tongue out at him, which turned his smirk into dramatic outrage, and then a genuine smile as Cassiopeia stepped back into the room with a whiteboard.

Lily felt herself blush at the smile, and quickly busied herself by sitting up straight and keeping her eyes on the board. Peter and Sirius did not seem to have noticed anything.

~~☆~~

Later, looking back on her first briefing with Cassiopeia, Lily would realize that no one actually asked her or Peter if they wanted to join the Black Family Kidnappers; everyone- including Lily and Peter themselves- had assumed that their showing up meant that they wanted the job.

The four new kidnappers had arranged a meeting at the brothers’ apartment following their briefing, as it turned out it was approximately halfway between Peter's apartment and Lily's dorm room.

The point of meeting without Cassiopeia was to bond a bit more as they had to be able to work with each other silently or discretely.

They had gone from talking about their assignments to discussing what code names they would adopt to- for Lily and Peter- what their animagus forms would be or- for Sirius and Regulus- showing off their animagus forms (a large black puppy and a small black kitten, respectively) to their everyday lives. Regulus had taken Lily into his room to show her his books.

From the main room, Sirius admitted to Peter that the secrecy spells he had mentioned on the poster were mostly to make sure that Lily wouldn't snitch.

Lily, who had been discussing the merits of fungal growths on wandwood for solidification with Regulus, just rolled her eyes, to Regulus's great amusement.

“Look, if it hadn't been for that, first of all we'd be in danger of the authorities, but second, Cassiopeia did say that out of the four of us, you were the most rule oriented one,” he admitted.

“...I suppose I kind of am rule oriented,” she acquiesced conceded, making Regulus laugh.

~~☆~~

By the time Lily and Peter went home, the four were fast friends.

In addition to the bi-weekly (in the sense of every two weeks) meetings with Cassiopeia, they arranged bi-weekly (in the sense of twice a week) meetings at the brothers's apartment.

The one thing that hadn't been discussed was targets, a fact that Lily was almost physically aware of as she walked home in the dark.

She had the small consolation of the group chat they had created, where she and Peter had been ordered to send a message when they got back, and where Sirius was currently spamming them with pictures of a sleepy Regulus as his kitten form.

Lily was already anticipating the onslaught of messages from Regulus when he woke up. Unlike her own relationship with her sister Petunia, Regulus and Sirius- despite everything they said- actually seemed to like each other.

And that's where I stopped for now :D

So Lily and Regulus are going to be paired together to kidnap James, and Sirius and Peter need to kidnap Remus.

Why James and Remus need to be kidnapped is something I haven't fogured out yet lol (if you have ideas feel free to suggest them!)

HI!!

How are youuu??

I had another idea for writing stuff help 😭😭

heyyy im good :D

hruu

also omg yes spill what's it abt

cause all your other ideas have been so fucking good like

[herestrish]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠▸ nanami kento x reader (gn)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬▸ hurt/comfort, fluff, coffee-shop (i have no chill with this au i swear to god).

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭▸ 1.3 k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲▸ you desperately try to wash your thoughts away with your writing, when a workaholic nanami catches your eye. 

𝐚/𝐧▸ dedicated to my sweet @kikyan​​, whose love for storytelling is as strong as nanami’s hate for overtime work. they’re a gem. 

A beam of sunshine escaped through the window and fractured his face in a straight line of warmth. Pale cheekbones that looked almost healthy, dark circles covered under dying sun. A flare reflecting into his eyes that one—if blinded with hurry, obliviated with disinterest—would deem alive. They weren’t.

The place was almost empty. Small, narrow piece of intimacy hiding at the corner of the street; the secluded type where customers usually know the bartenders, and bills are paid at the counter. Cosy gradient of browns and beiges, light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, shining soothe and retro just like the music playing in the background. A casual guy with freshly trimmed beard was typing on his essay on the other side of the room. Two pink-cheeked girls in turtleneck sweaters (with steam spectrally hovering up from their cups, hardcover books by their side—oh, but we know it’s just for show) were keeping up with each other’s lives three tables farther from you. Rarae aves. Sighing in frustration, frowning at the sudden disturbance, he averted his eyes from the outdoor light play—gold turning to bronze, at last to silver—and pulled the laptop lid a bit lower. He didn’t like it when things dragged him out of his concentration state. Tightened the tie around his neck as a form of punishment. Then he rubbed on his eyes just so heavily, determined to get used to the screen’s whiteness as promptly as possible. As efficiently.

And now that the sun left his face and scattered into shades of pink behind the rip-roaring arcadia of Tokyo, the contrast between his own image and the setting he’d put himself into became more and more evident. Like a frame that had built itself around his table, covered it in paint and got it hung on wallpaper. At this point, you’d thought this man would fit better inside a cubicle: white quivery neon, coffee filtered in a hurry, nine-to-five schedules, cigarette breaks restoring the worker’s will to live. But it was still Saturday and an office room could be claustrophobic, and a home distracting.

So he typed and typed and typed; occasionally dropped some scribbles down the notebook beside him, took a sip from a white ceramic cup. He’d ordered a double-espresso—no sugar, no milk, just caffeinated oil to keep the cogwheels moving. By the other side of his laptop, the man’s phone started to buzz. It didn’t stop too soon. He rolled his eyes at the insisting caller, swiped a thumb up only at the fourth ring. Phone by his ear and a frigid tone in his voice, he looked up, and your gaze hurried downwards when he did. You had your own amount of typing to concentrate at, less work and more pain-killing escape. A laptop screen, a half-hearted paragraph and a story idea that had grasped you during your own morning shift at work and hadn’t let go ever since. Eyes heavy and back aching, you were here out of an unconscious attempt to bring it to life. You didn’t really know what to do with it in the future.

The conversation went on. (“Precisely. I’d very much appreciate it if you stopped associating me with all this, I won’t get involved with the line of work no longer. Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to acquire a new competency and do the jobs you are assigned to from now on.”)

You tried to put your thoughts in order, turn ideas into words, daydream into text; all efforts were to no avail, and a headache slowly started to take over in all your frustration. A word, cut out. Two words, replaced. Three—let’s select the whole row and begin a new sentence from scratch. At least the sound of your typing was soothing enough to keep you going. The man sitting at the table in front hung up the phone and ordered a glass of wine, moments after it wasn’t your typing to soothe anymore. You stared at the screen, eyes glazing over, with a finger curled up your lips as he completed endless rows of text. Mechanic, focused. And you were gripped again. Curious, mind blank.

“You’re staring again.” It was an observation. No hostility held to his voice, nor mischief.

A thought took form out loud. “Am I?”

“Pretty much, yes,” He responded, eyes fixed on the screen and fingers racing over keyboard.

You felt as if a knot got stuck in your throat. Your lungs got flattened, and your headache pulsed in response.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

A moment passed.

“You seem horrifyingly tense on a Saturday evening, is all.” You managed.

He didn’t take too much time to ponder over it, his words came out cold and professional.

“I shouldn’t be working on a Saturday evening.”

And he was professionalism incarnated, all right, with shirtsleeves pulled up to elbows and braces vertical to slim waist and round shoulders that had no time to loosen.

You closed your laptop lid, a faint ‘click’ when you did. Your stare was less sheer curiosity and more sociability this time, it propped your hand in a palm just as dandelion seeds are driven mid-air and then down to the ground.  

Natural, understanding. “Leave it to Monday, then.”

“Weekend productivity leaves a door open for the rest of the week. If my schedule says I’m ought to be off at five, I’d prefer to be off at five.” The man clarified, with a lowered tone and a masked sigh that actually translated themselves to ‘cannot do’.

“Has it worked so far?”

“No.” He said, throwing you a wise look, hand resting somewhere near touchpad.

“That’s the case,” After a second of thought, you point a finger at the gleaming glass of wine on his table, “Drink up.” then at the opened laptop in front. “Open a word document, write a story.”

The interior lights radiated brighter and brighter—orange and yellow midst the room, dark circles on the ceiling—as the sun became completely concealed, and your reflections gained contour in over-carefully wiped windows.

He complied with the first suggestion, glass by his mouth and alcohol cascading down in crimson waves. “I’m not convinced literature will get any bureaucracy done, however.”

A shrug. “It shouldn’t. But it should clear up your mind at some point.”

“If only people functioned the same.”

“Still, I don’t know anyone who isn’t truthfully into taking a break from time to time.”

“All right, look,” He began, brushing a piece of blonde hair from his face, all austere and composed. “I much appreciate your concern, but under no circumstances will you see me becoming this Kobo Abe in my free time. Especially when overloaded with work. It wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Neither does bureaucracy.” It was all you could say back; your smile was still clear like a morning sky before you returned to your laptop, your own word document that remained to be filled with pages.

He left early, earlier than you. Watched him pack his things out of the corner of your eye, paid attention when bells chimed at the exit door. And it didn’t take much more time for you to follow suit: laptop closed, bag around shoulder, seat dragged to its place.

“Don’t sweat it,” The woman at the counter looked unusually casual for the dark circles she wore under her eyes. “it has been already taken care of.”

Like someone entering a numbing state after endless hours of labour.

“What do you mean?” Raising an eyebrow, you stopped rummaging through your wallet.

There was a deep sinking feeling in your stomach you found hard to get over.

“The guy from before? Looking like a peaky blinder or some sort? He paid for your bill before leaving.”

A couple of beats later, your lips curve in amusement. “If they ever come in here again, please tell them they be more old-fashioned than my granny’s curtains.”

[thefanbasewhore]

Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

[ramayantika]

Back to you (2)

SOOO Here it is. I hope this reached your expectations. Do we have a kissing scene below? Check it for yourself 👀 and this was my first time ever writing a kissing scene so excuse me if it feels awkward. Enjoy!

PART-1

Y/N knew Ram was pissed at her. Everybody else had noticed the same but chose to ignore it, leaving Y/N to pray to God to let her have the upper hand this time and go to her room before Ram found a way to corner her.

Ram had come back in the evening, and Y/N had run to her room, feigning a terrible headache. Seetha and Jenny rolled their eyes while Bheem stood dumbfounded, wondering how did Y/N feel sick suddenly. Ram, on the other hand, frowned at Y/N but did not comment on it.

Bheem, Seetha and Jenny knew what had happened between Ram and Y/N. After coming back and not seeing Y/N for two months with her, not even asking about his whereabouts had deeply hurt him. She regularly wrote to Bheem and Jenny but never asked about Ram. And so, one full moon night, when the four of them were huddled by a fire, Ram let out his emotions and narrated the incident, regretting not telling her the truth sooner.

Ram had met Y/N at the party for the first time. She was wearing a light pink saree and a pearl necklace around her neck. She wore her hair down with a string of jasmine flowers, holding some of her beautiful curls at the back while the rest cascaded down to her waist. It was a bright sunny day, and she would repeatedly shield her face from the sun while talking to Jenny and her friends. To Ram, she looked adorable and charming.

But look how the tables turned. She was near him, yet so far. 

The entire evening, she barely even looked his way and only answered with a nod or a word. There were no smiles for him. Whenever by chance she looked at him, her eyes appeared restless and nervous.

It was dinnertime, and Ram had enough of her distant behaviour. He was going to find a way to have her alone and talk to her. He was never angry about the words she spoke to him that night. He never told her the truth, and Y/N cared for Bheem like a sister. Things would never have escalated this way if he would have told her about his life.

The Gods above favoured him, it appeared, for Y/N was serving food to everyone. Seetha and Jenny were in the kitchen, and Bheem was banana leaves to the other side. Y/N, in her nervousness, hadn’t noticed that Ram was in her line, and he was very happy about it.

As she neared the end where Ram sat, she realized that the man she was running away from was sitting just in front of her. Ram started smirking while she frantically turned around. It was then she heard him speak in a low voice, just for her to hear.

“Don’t you dare run from me now, Y/N.”

Y/N gulped and walked towards him slowly, holding the rice pot in her hand. She kneeled and began placing some rice over his banana leaf. Ram took this opportunity and leaned in, whispering, “Why have you been running away from me?”

Y/N was about to drop the serving spoon. Maintaining her grip over the spoon and the pot, she answered swiftly, “Am I running? Not at all. Why do I need to run and from you out of all the people here?”

“Oh really? Then why weren’t you looking me in the eye while talking to me? Why are you gulping so hard now? We have been this close before, too. Why are your eyes looking here and there as if you want to flee the second I turn my attention away from you?” He gently moved a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Look, you still can’t look me in the eye.” He ran his finger over her cheekbone. “Please… don’t go away from me.”

His touches created goosebumps on her skin. She wanted to run away so badly, but she knew, it would be in vain. After carefully placing rice for him, she got up and turned to call Bheem, “Bheem, serve the curry this side. I am done.”

Ram wanted to groan badly but just closed his eyes in frustration. Why was this woman acting like that, he wondered. Y/N looked at him and grinned. “Enjoy your meal, Ram.” Of course, she would grin. She got another opportunity to run away from him.

“This isn’t over, Y/N. We still need to talk. Just wait for a while, and I will find you and catch you before you run away again.”

***

Y/N cursed her fate and her slow eating habit. Others were done with their meal while she still had half of her food left to ingest. Ram, the ever-observant took advantage of that and purposely ate his food very slowly. Everyone had left after eating, leaving behind these two, and Y/N was not pleased with it.

“See, even luck favours me, Y/N,” said, Ram with a victorious grin on his lips.

“I may eat my food slowly, but I can run fast. You won’t be able to catch me,” retorted, Y/N, aggressively scooping the rice in her hand.

“You will escape only when you are able to complete your food and step out, which won’t happen for a long time,” said, Ram, gesturing at the quantity of her food left. “Don’t worry. I am here to give you company.”

“I have no interest in talking to you,” saying so, Y/N stuffed her mouth.

Finishing his meal, Ram got up to wash his hands outside and came back inside. This time, he went and sat beside her, but still kept some distance between them in case Y/N threw a tantrum.

“Now, tell me, why are you behaving this way? First, you were scared to talk to me, and now that we are together, you feel annoyed when I talk to you. I know, I did you wrong by hiding my true identity, but by now, you know the truth.”

Y/N had hurriedly gulped her food within the time Ram was out to wash his hands and quickly put the last morsel in her mouth to avoid speaking. She had so many things to say to him. First of all, he deserved an apology for that night and all the hateful thoughts she had for him before knowing the truth from Seetha.

“I am not angry at you, Ram.” She looked down and then back at him. His eyes had turned soft, the same eyes, the same look he always had for her whenever she was near him. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but Y/N was resisting him and denying her feelings. She muttered to herself. “I am angry at myself”

Y/N got up to wash her hands, but unlike her plans to leave him right there, she chose to enter inside. It would be unfair to him if she walked away like that. “I am sorry for the words, I spoke to you that night, and for all the thoughts, I harboured inside me after hearing that you caught Bheem and whipped him. Had I known that you did all of this for the greater good, I wouldn’t have done that. I have been holding this guilt for so long, and when I heard that Bheem was going to bring you back from prison, I prayed to Shiva that if you both came back safe, I would never face you again.”

Ram walked towards her, his arms wanted to hug her. This lady was mad, absolutely mad. Thankfully, her Shiva understood that he needed her, so he sent her to him. Ram was heartbroken without Y/N, and only he knew how much he craved her presence when he was placed in the solitary cell. Both of them committed mistakes, but it wasn’t intentional. Their story could have a second chance, a new beginning.

“Y/N, it wasn’t your fault. Had I been in your place, maybe I would have done the same, but that’s in the past. We have a new beginning and a new future. I want it to be with you. Let’s not brood over the past and the time we lost. Come with me, be with me, be my…” Ram hesitated to say the word. Was it too soon? He hadn’t even told her ‘I love you’ before but had imagined himself telling her the same a thousand times.

Y/N stepped back. “No, don’t say that. I am not worthy of you, Ram. You need someone who trusts you and always stands by you. I was never that person. Find someone better for you. Besides, I am leaving the day after tomorrow.” She looked at him and turned to move outside, controlling her tears that were on the verge of spilling out. She blinked hard to ease the burn in her eyes when she felt a rough tug on her elbow and a hard chest on her back.

Ram swiftly turned her forward and moved her hand behind her back. “When I told you that you aren’t escaping tonight from me, I meant it, Y/N.” He loosened her hold over her wrist but held it firm enough to not let her make any further escape attempts. They would sort this together. “Enough of running away. Now come with me and no questions.”

Y/N had no choice but to quietly follow him. He brought her near the riverbank. Gently, holding her hand, he made her sit on the ground and sat beside her, his face towards the sky. “Do you remember how we used to stargaze? My village will show you more stars, and the moon shines brighter here.”

Y/N turned her head towards the sky. Indeed, Ram’s words were true. The night sky was illuminated with stars as if they were tiny lamps, and the moon appeared a hundred times brighter here.

“This was the same moon, I gazed at when I was imprisoned by them. Each time, I looked at her, I was reminded of you. You were my strength during those hard times. I knew I had to be strong to come back to you and to serve my motherland. During those months, I only thought about the good memories we shared with each other. Only during Amavasya, I would spend my nights in despair because it reminded me of your eyes that looked at me with hate and your tearful face. And whenever it was a bright full moon, I would see you smiling.” Ram fixed his gaze on her. He had decided to tell her everything about his feelings. Today was the day.

Y/N smiled and chuckled to herself, wiping a tear that had escaped her eye, she finally looked at Ram with a fond expression. “Funny how we all look at the same moon and think of so many things. I indeed loathed you before, but each time, I would look at her, there was a voice telling me that you weren’t a bad friend. It reminded me of your warm smiles, which you reserved for Bheem and me. It reminded me of your carefree laughter when I told you some of my most terrible jokes. It reminded me of how you looked at me in awe when I would babble things related to my interests. Amidst the heartbreak, I was still in love with you, and I still am.” Realizing that she had finally confessed, she slapped her palm over her mouth and groaned. “Oh God, save me! Did I have to go that far?”

Ram spent no time engulfing her in a hug. “You are the one for me, Y/N! And if you say the same thing again about your guilt, I will… I will… I don’t even have any words left. You make me the happiest. I love you! I have loved you all this while. I love you so much.” He held her face gently, and with the softest voice possible, he said, “Please, never go away from me. I love you. I need you. You are my strength, Y/N. I am nothing without you.”

“I am sorry, Ram. But I promise, I shall not let anger get the best of me, and I will always stay beside you and make you hear all my lame jokes.” She laughed while hugging him as happy tears fell from her eyes. Now it felt complete. The flower of love had begun to blossom again.

“Kiss me, Y/N, please,” whispered Ram in a raspy voice. He wanted to touch her so badly. He wanted to be close to her after all the months he had to live away from her.

Y/N looked him in the eye and leaned forward. Ram tilted his face slightly to capture her soft lips. One of his hands went inside her hair, freeing her curls from her hair bun and the other was placed on her waist. The kiss felt like the first rainfall that graced the earth after a dry spell of summer. They moved their lips in sync, not caring that they were out in the open and someone would see them anytime. Nothing mattered to them anymore except that they loved each other and finally got to be together. Both of them put their unsaid words from the months they lived apart and the love they harboured in their chests into the kiss.

“That was…” Y/N blushed and looked down at the ground, covering her face with her hand.

Ram moved her hand away and placed his finger under her chin. Lifting her face towards him, he pecked her lips again. “I love you, Y/N.”

Holding his wrist, she placed his palm over her cheek and looked at him. “I love you too, Ram.”

“Oh God, finally, it happened.”

Both of them turned around at the voice. A horrified Bheem, an embarrassed Jenny and a grinning Seetha welcomed them.

“Carry on, you two. We are going home,” said Seetha and pulled her two companions away. Bheem bowed to Y/N and held his ear for Ram, and walked while Jenny gave a sheepish smile.

“Forget that. Where were we?” asked Y/N.

“Oh, my insatiable lover. Come here,” said Ram, laughing and opening his arms for her.

Tagging: @itsfookingloosah @juhiiiiii @manwalaage @gauri-vishalakshi @maraudersfansassemble @obsessedtoafault @thewinchestergirl1208 @yehsahihai @kalavathiii @sivuda @reallythoughtfulwizard

[writinglizards]

Poison in my Veins

Summary: Geralt takes a mix of potions on a hunt and has an uncharacteristically bad reaction. Jaskier helps him deal.

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: Mature

Warnings: smut, dubious consent on the basis of sex pollen (but they’re both into it), minor levels of whump

Read on Ao3

Geralt hates potions. He always has, and he probably always will.

They're useful, sure, and he takes them because he needs the edge they provide when he's hunting, but the negatives far outweigh the positives, as far as he's concerned.

Depending on the concoction, they make him prone to headaches, sensitive to light, lightheaded, nauseous. And those are just the mild ones. That's not saying anything about the way they make him look, or how some of the more intense potions feel like they're burning him up, make him twitchy and hypersensitive.

He's mixed a vial of kiss and black blood for his hunt tonight and he knows he's going to need them, even if he hates it, even if he doesn't want to use them. Jaskier's in camp tonight and he doesn't...he doesn't want to have to hide in the trees until he looks normal and approachable again. It's the worst part, feeling strung out and needy and knowing he's got to wait another thirty plus minutes until his eyes change, until the black of his veins fade until he can return to camp.

He hates it.

-----

He knows as soon as he downs the potions in quick succession that something's wrong. He dispatches the garkain taking up residence in the nearby cave smoothly and without problem, but there's a burning under his skin that shouldn't be there, a tight, hot curling in his gut that makes him double over, makes him moan brokenly. It’s not the normal slightly queazy response he has to this mix of potions. It's not...it's not good, this feeling, but he gets the impression it could be, maybe. It feels like being so strung out, so needy that everything hurts, and tears spring to his eyes as he curls tighter into himself, knees hitting the cave floor and he moans again, an unpleasant, painful sound.

It's how Jaskier finds him, however long later.

"Geralt, what--" he stops in the mouth of the cave, and Geralt knows something's really wrong with him because he should have heard him coming, should have--

"Jask," he grinds out, and his voice is thin with pain, "Jask, please--" he doesn't know what he's asking him for, but Jaskier steps forward anyway, puts his hand carefully on Geralt's shoulder as he ducks to get a better look at his face. The touch is like a brand, even through the thick leather of his armor.

"Geralt? Are you okay?"

"Potions," he says, breathless with the tender brush of Jaskier's hand along his arm, the way he squeezes his bicep gently. Even with the barrier between bare skin, it's too much, "hurts."

"Is that--" he trails off, other hand coming up to cup his cheek, force him to look him in the eye. He can feel his face heat, knows that like this his blush will be black like ink instead of red. Jaskier breathes in sharply, thumb rubbing idly back and forth against his cheekbone.

"Yes."

"What can I do to help?" It's...a valid question. But there's not anything that can be done, and if Jaskier isn't going to run screaming, apparently--

"Help me back to camp? Please." It hurts to ask, but not as much as the knotting, painful feeling in his gut, not as much as Jaskier's fingertips on his bare skin. Jaskier nods, more to himself than anything, before working his way under Geralt’s arm and winding his own around Geralt’s waist. When he’s got a good grip on him he stands, dragging Geralt upright with him.

"Oh, fuck," Jaskier gasps when Geralt moans and his knees buckle, almost bringing both of them back to the ground, "work with me, Geralt, I'm trying here."

He focuses on keeping upright, one foot in front of the other as Jaskier leads him from the cave toward their camp. His gut burns unpleasantly and he wants to curl up again so badly. His skin prickles where Jaskier touches and he realizes, belatedly, that what he feels is arousal, so bright and hot it hurts. He wants to wrap his fist around his cock and strip himself until he physically can't take the touch anymore, wants Jaskier to hold him--

"Doing okay?" Jaskier asks when Geralt stumbles, but he keeps a firm grip around his waist, keeps him moving despite the way he drags them both down. Geralt knows he's hard and he knows Jaskier must know, but he hasn't drawn attention to it.

"No," he says honestly, "keep walking." He can see the way Jaskier presses his lips together firmly in response, but he doesn't stop, continues to help Geralt hobble closer to camp, slowly but surely.

By the time they make it back to the camp, Geralt's shaking so hard he can barely stay upright, and Jaskier's gone absolutely silent, breathing ragged as he labors under the majority of Geralt's weight.

He's expecting to be deposited unceremoniously on the ground, but Jaskier lowers him gently beside the fire. As soon as Geralt's knees hit the packed dirt, he's curling forward, moaning lowly.

"Okay, okay, just--" Jaskier's breathless from exertion, but he's still fussing over Geralt, hands working quickly at the clasps of his chest piece as he focuses on freeing him of the heavy leathers, "--give me a minute, Geralt, hold on--"

"Fuck," he mumbles, forcing himself still as Jaskier plucks at the buckles and ties, undoing them deftly. It makes his blood sing to feel Jaskier undressing him, even if he knows that's not how this is going to go.

"I need you to sit back for a minute, Geralt, can you do that?" he asks, palm searing against his back where it rests. He's sure Jaskier means it as a kind of reassurance but all it makes him feel is want.

He doesn't say anything, just forces himself more upright, even as it makes that curl of intense pain flare in his gut. He closes his eyes and forces himself to focus.

There's a high, whining noise in his ears that he realizes belatedly is him. Jaskier's speaking, soft soothing nonsense as he rushes to free the last few ties and pry him out of the armor, and as soon as the heavy weight of it is gone, he's shucking his shirt as well. He shifts to curl back over, but Jaskier doesn't move, a hand pressed gently to his chest. Unbidden, Geralt whines. Jaskier's expression flickers with something, there one minute and gone the next.

"Geralt, you've never...what's going on?"

"Potions," he repeats roughly. "Jask, please--" there's blatant need in his voice, and Jaskier jolts, eyes meeting Geralt's straight on and holding his gaze, which--

"What do you need, love?"

He can't ask that of him, even if he knows Jaskier would give it. This burning feeling will only intensify before it runs itself out. He can...he can wait it out. He's done similar before.

"Space," he says, not meaning it for a moment, but Jaskier nods, shifts back and away to let Geralt curl back around himself, folding his arms on the ground and press his forehead to them tightly. His gut cramps like there's a fist in there, squeezing tight, and he can't help the shocky little sound of pain that filters through his lips when he shifts, his dick catching against the rough fabric of his trousers.

"Geralt?"

"Hurts," he repeats, "sorry, I--" he cuts off when Jaskier presses in close again, not touching but close enough for the calming scent of lavender and pine to wash over him. It makes him ache sharply, makes his dick throb, even if he smells nothing but the sour note of concern under that, tinging with something like fear.

"How's it hurt, love?" he asks softly, and Geralt can feel Jaskier's desire to reach out like a physical thing. It's...worse, somehow, than he thought it would be. His touch burns, but--

"Bad potion mix, they must have been off and I fucked it up, I--" he has to snap his jaw shut or risk biting off his tongue as a wave of shivers hit him, so sharp they're almost, almost pleasant, if it weren't for the aching burn in his gut, "--ah--"

"Geralt?"

"Sorry, I--" he cuts off again, whining as he presses his forehead to his arms, hard. "--Melitele fucking help me."

Jaskier sits silently at his side even though he's practically vibrating with energy, and Geralt just...rides out the sharp swell of it for a few moments, waiting for the bright hot burning need to settle for the time he needs to speak.

"Always a little...ah...but this is, mm--" there's a sharp, needy quality to the noises he keeps making; he can hear them as if they come from another person, "intense." He's panting as if he's run straight from Vizima to Novigrad on foot.

"And there's nothing I can do to help?" he asks, "like a massage or--"

Geralt laughs. It's sharp and painful, more a bark of noise than true laughter. It shocks Jaskier silent.

"Jaskier, I am so hard I can't breathe, you touching me is the problem."

"O-oh," he stutters out, and Geralt wishes he could see his face, gauge his reaction. Is he disgusted? Amused? Merely indifferent? Geralt's already too far gone to read his tone. "Did you...nothing will help?"

"Jerking off might," he bites out, feeling the heat in his cheeks, "but I...it's never been this bad before, I can't fucking think--"

"Do you need help?" Jaskier asks, and the pulse of arousal is so strong it sends him spiraling in another wave of cramps. He cries out this time, trying to ride out the bright hot flare of pain as Jaskier makes his own soft, distressed noises above him.

"You can't help," he gets out eventually. It's supposed to be angry, but it just comes out breathy and weak.

"Okay so you don't--okay," Jaskier says, sounding more like he's talking to himself than Geralt before clearing his throat and sitting up a little straighter, "so you don't want me touching you. Why can't you get yourself off? That should help, yeah?"

"Hurts," he breathes, gut-clenching at the thought of Jaskier watching him. He's just getting that surge of white-hot arousal under control and now it threatens to overwhelm him again, "can't...can't lay flat long enough to--"

"Ah," Jaskier says, as if suddenly getting the picture, "it's...like a cramp? Like that time I had the food poisoning and--"

"Yes," Geralt cuts him off quickly. He doesn't want to think about Jaskier on his knees in any context, even if it involves lots of vomiting and tears.

"Mm, you know what helped with that," Jaskier says, tone conversational, "was when you held me, actually. Do you think that might work?"

Geralt whines again, muscles tensing as the curling heat in his stomach bursts to fresh life again. The thought of Jaskier touching him, holding him so tenderly, even if he's not--

"Please," his traitor of a mouth says before he can catch up to it, "please, it hurts so bad, Jask, I just want--" he cuts off on a sob when Jaskier's palms settle on his back, rubbing warm, soothing circles as he shuffles around him into what his hazy focus assumes must be a better position.

"Alright, Geralt, alright," he's soothing, voice low and warm. Distantly Geralt realizes the fear scent is gone as Jaskier tucks himself across Geralt's back, palms sliding to his hips as he curves over him. "I know it hurts, love, but we're gonna lay back, alright?"

"Can't," he gasps out, hands scrabbling for Jaskier's forearms, hold him closer, "Jaskier, I can't."

"Sure you can," Jaskier says softly, voice honey-sweet and warm, "I know you can, Geralt, you're so strong, love--"

He chokes on a soft sound at the praise, and Jaskier just hums. "I know, darling, you can do it, relax for me."

Slowly, bit by bit, Jaskier works his arms around Geralt's waist and eases him backward until he's sitting upright, knees shaky where they’re bent under him.

"Oh, good job, sweetheart," Jaskier breathes, and Geralt's gut clenches so tight it’s unpleasant, hips twitching, "you're so hard, darling, why don't you take care of that? I'm sure it will take the edge off a little."

He's whining, a thin, sustained noise as he fumbles at the button of his trousers, drawing himself out with shaky hands. He knows from experience that the pull of his own hand feels good, but all he can process is the searing pain, the way it knots his gut and makes him breathless.

"Hey, hey," Jaskier soothes in his ear, hands pressing hard to his stomach just above the jut of his cock, "take it slow, love. Enjoy it." He doesn't enjoy the rough drag of his own hand, but Jaskier's palms against his stomach, right above that licking heat is...

"Fuck," he sobs, hips snapping, but Jaskier just holds him calmly, fingers brushing slowly back and forth across his overheated skin.

"I know, Geralt. Easy, darling," he murmurs. He lets Geralt jerk himself for what feels like an awful stretch of time with no results.

"Isn't working," he rasps out, and he's not sure when he started crying, but there are tears on his cheeks and his throat is raw with them.

"Do you want help?" Jaskier asks, voice calm, and the thought of Jaskier's hands wrapped around his dick--

"Yes, please, oh fuck," he gasps, squirming. Jaskier doesn't even have his hands on him yet, but just the thought--

"Alright, darling, alright," he murmurs, fingers sliding from the flat stretch of his stomach lower to wrap around his cock, and Geralt jerks, coming in long, hot spurts that leave him sobbing, fingers digging into the flesh of Jaskier's thighs as he desperately grasps at something to ground him. "Oh, that's so good, Geralt, there you go, good boy."

"Jaskier," he gasps, not softening in the least as Jaskier continues to work him over, tugging him toward a second peak with skilled fingers and soft words.

"I know, sweetheart, does it still hurt?"

He can't speak, just nods roughly. He moves to press his forearm against his lower stomach and Jaskier lets him before resettling his palm over the top of his arm, a warm, reassuring weight as he continues to jerk him off, slow and smooth.

"That's alright, we'll get you everything you need, Geralt, don't worry, oh, look at you," he breathes when Geralt locks up, spilling a second time over Jaskier's fist and his own thighs, "aren't you a sight?"

"Jaskier, please--"

"You want me to stop?" he asks, touch gentling but not pulling away. He’s worked his trousers and smalls down to his calves at some point, and he kicks free of them, finally bare. Behind him, Jaskier is still clothed, and the contrast makes his skin prickle. All of him aches fiercely, but it's not so bad he feels like he'll die, like he needs to curl into a ball and rock back and forth, sobbing with it, not like earlier.

"No," he mumbles anyway, and Jaskier makes a sweet, approving sound before his lips press against Geralt's shoulder, softly.

"Thank you for letting me help, love," he says, lips brushing skin. He redoubles his efforts, bringing Geralt to an easy third peak, but he can still feel that awful itching burn under his skin that tells him they're not done, even though he's already tired.

"Jaskier--"

"Hm?" he asks. He's paused to play with the head, thumb pressing just a touch shy of too hard under it. It makes his hips twitch, makes him groan. He knows he needs to ask if he wants more than just this, but--

"Would you--" he wets his lips and inadvertently catches sight of his own dick in Jaskier's hand, the way he's swollen angry and nearly purple, the delicate curl of Jaskier's fingers around all that firm flesh, and he watches, raptured, as those fingers stroke to the base, dip to fondle his balls, reach back--

"Yes," he hisses, back arching, and Jaskier rubs a little more firmly against his hole, humming softly.

"You want me to get you off on my fingers? Jerking you off doesn't seem to be helping." It is, of course, but it's a slow depletion of the potions after effects. He knew, even as the burning, itching feeling had settled into his bones, that this was one of the bad ones, one that is easier fucked out of him than fucked through.

"Yes," he husks, "please," and then Jaskier is dragging his hand through the mess of Geralt’s come and pushing one slender digit in, slowly but surely. "Oh, fuck." The ache isn't gone, but it's immediately eased with that slight fullness.

"Breathe, Geralt," Jaskier reminds, and he sucks in a sobbing breath, head lolling on Jaskier's shoulder as he spreads his knees a little wider to give him better access, "there you go, love."

"Fuck me, please," he mumbles, and Jaskier does, moving that single digit in and out nice and easy. The slick of his come eases the way and his head spins as his gut clenches. He needs-- "more, please."

"Eager," Jaskier says, lips pressing to his shoulder again, but there's a second finger nudging against his rim before pressing in, slow and steady, and he chokes on his next breath, "but that's okay. Let me know if it's too much."

It isn't. He wants more, faster, harder, but he doesn't want Jaskier to think he's greedy. It's bad enough he's nearly out of his mind with need, bad enough Jaskier has to see him like this at all, but--

"You're thinking too hard," Jaskier says softly, and he crooks his fingers, brushing against that spot inside him that makes him shake, gasping, "I want you focused on this, Geralt, not whatever's up in that head of yours."

"What if I'm thinking about you?" he whines, prodding for a weakness, anything. Jaskier laughs softly.

"No need to think about me, love, I'm right here." He twists to press his lips to Geralt's cheek at the same time Geralt twists to look back at him and their lips brush, just barely. They both freeze.

"Fuck--" The moment doesn't last long. As Jaskier's fingers still, the heat flares up, sharp and overwhelming, and Geralt's head rolls against his shoulder again as he squirms, trying to encourage Jaskier to move.

"Sorry," he breathes, fingers resuming their easy movement. It quells some of the feeling, but he's still painfully hard, still needy and right on the edge, "sorry, Geralt, can I kiss you?"

"Please," he sobs, twisting his head, lips searching, and then Jaskier is there, lips sliding against his own. Geralt assumes Jaskier will kiss gently, will kiss as thoroughly as he's fucking his fingers into him, slow and controlled and overwhelming. What he gets instead is fierce heat, the slick slide of lips and the quick bite of teeth before the nip is soothed away with the cool lap of his tongue, leaving him gasping.

Jaskier crooks his fingers again as he licks into Geralt's mouth and Geralt comes with a muffled cry, hips twitching as Jaskier milks his prostate, cock spilling over his hip.

Jaskier works him through it, fingers tucked against that spot inside him until it hurts, until he's squirming again and whining, and only then does he back off, fingers easing away from his prostate to play with his rim instead.

"How are we feeling, Geralt?"

"Good," he whines, "Jask, I need--"

"More?" he asks, fingers teasing lightly along his rim until he's panting with it.

"Yes, please, gods fuck me, please--"

"Alright, darling, alright." He kisses him again, quick. "But you are alright though?"

"Yes, Jaskier, please--"

"Alright," he soothes, "touch yourself for me," he says, and then he's pulling away, fingers sliding free. There's an immediate flare in his gut, sharp and painful, but not as bad as it was. Almost...almost manageable. Especially as he wraps his own fist around his cock, movements quick and jerky. He doesn't say anything as Jaskier eases him down onto his back on the hard ground, situates himself between his thighs. He thinks...he thinks maybe he should, but--

"How's it feel?" Jaskier asks, curling his own hand around Geralt's where he's pumping himself roughly still. He jerks in response to the touch, needing Jaskier's more than his own.

"Good," he gasps, "so good, Jask, I--" he bites off the words, teeth sinking into his lower lip. There's...there's no need to tell Jaskier how bad he wants him, no need for Jaskier to know about how he feels. It would make it weird. He's just...he's just here to help.

"Good," Jaskier says, voice rough as he kisses him again, filthy and quick, "want you to feel good, Geralt."

His hand falls away as Jaskier shifts between his thighs and he situates himself around Jaskier's waist. He’s still fully dressed, chemise rucked up, trousers open and dick curving hard and hot from the open vee of his trousers. Compared to Jaskier, Geralt feels open and exposed but he burns with the need to feel Jaskier inside him.

"Don't tease," he says when Jaskier drags the slick head of himself over Geralt's entrance but doesn't push in, "please, Jask."

Jaskier hums and steadies himself wordlessly before pressing in, and the thick, burning pressure makes him shout as he arches into it, hips canting to get him deeper faster.

"Slow," Jaskier grunts, hands on his waist, and Geralt sobs, fingers scrabbling along his shoulders as he yanks him down over his chest, forces him closer.

"Please, need it now, fuck me, please," he gasps, thighs flexing, and Jaskier groans, a deep, primal sound that makes Geralt shiver. "Fuck me hard, Jask, come on--"

Jaskier growls and snaps his hips forward almost brutally as he sinks the rest of the way in and it's perfect, leaves Geralt breathless. There are tears trickling down his cheeks again but it's good, it's so good--

Jaskier doesn't move, wrapping his fist around Geralt's dick and jerking him off hard and fast until he's coming again, Jaskier buried inside him and grinding filthily against his ass but not really moving. Above him, Jaskier hisses, but otherwise doesn't respond, teeth grit in something like a grimace.

"Jask," he slurs out, feeling drunk on pleasure, and Jaskier grunts, leaning forward to kiss him when he tips his chin up needily, "want you to fuck me for real," he mumbles when they part, just enough to breathe, "please."

"'M gonna come if I do that," Jaskier says, words pressed into his lips as he kisses him again, over and over in brief, delightfully filthy little presses.

"'S okay," he says, and it's true; the burning, clenching feeling in his gut has mellowed. He feels...almost normal.

"Are you gonna be okay? I thought you needed to be full?" and the tender care in his voice, despite how rough and deep it is, despite the way his hips twitch restlessly against his ass, makes Geralt flush hot.

"I do," he says softly, "but I want your come in me more," and Jaskier makes a harsh, painful sound.

"You say the prettiest things, Geralt," he gasps, and then he's fitting his palms beneath Geralt's knees and pushing them back to his chest, holding him open. Geralt's own hands settle on his thighs to help as Jaskier pulls back partway before snapping forward again.

The first thrust is like heaven, sharp and pleasurable and almost overwhelming. Geralt makes a sharp, needy noise in response, and Jaskier bares his teeth, expression fierce as he pulls back to fuck into him again, just as hard. The singleminded focus in his eyes makes Geralt feel hot, makes his gut churn and his dick twitch and he can't help but think about how much he wishes this were different--

His thoughts are interrupted by a hand in his hair, yanking hard as Jaskier sinks in again, makes him cry out hoarsely.

"Where are you, Geralt?" Jaskier asks, and it's clear he doesn't mean physically.

"Here," he mumbles anyway, "with you."

"No," Jaskier grunts, hips snapping forward again, and Geralt whimpers, "don't lie to me, Geralt."

"I want you," he sobs out when Jaskier snaps back in again, and Jaskier makes a tsk-ing noise.

"You have me, Geralt, what are you really thinking about?" He tugs the strands in his fist a little harder, tips his head back a little farther as he snaps in again, and Geralt can't help but wail as his cock twitches. He's so close-- "tell me."

"Want you to want me," he gasps, even as he wishes he could strangle the words in his throat--the fierceness in Jaskier's eyes, the intense look there is flaying him open in a way he's never felt before. He couldn't stop them if he wanted to, "want you to want this, Jask, please--"

"You think I don't?" he pants out, still not losing his rhythm, "hm? You think I'd do this for anyone, Geralt?"

He doesn't have an adequate response for him. Of course he doesn't think Jaskier would do this for just anyone, but--

"You think I'm slutty enough to slide between just anyone's thighs, Geralt?" he asks, fingers cinching tighter in Geralt's hair, and he can't help but cry out, back arching.

"N-no, no, fuck, Jask, of course not, I--"

"Then why am I here, Geralt?" he growls out, punctuating the question with the thrust of his hips, and Geralt's thoughts scatter as he nails that place inside him again, leaves him gasping and whining. "Answer me, Geralt. Why am I here?"

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know why Jaskier's here if not out of some twisted sense of loyalty. But he also knows if he says anything about loyalty right now, Jaskier's likely to snap and he's...he doesn't want that.

"I don't know," he gasps, fingers clawing uselessly across his shoulders, and Jaskier hisses at the bite of his nails, "'M sorry, I don't know."

"I want to," Jaskier growls out, forcing Geralt's eyes to meet his with the hand tangled in his hair, "you fucking idiot, I want to."

He doesn't know when Jaskier closes the space between them again to kiss him, but as soon as he does, Geralt can't breathe, needs Jaskier's mouth moving against his own more than he needs air. And still, Jaskier's relentless pace doesn't let up.

"'M gonna come," he gasps against Jaskier's lips, and Jaskier just hums softly in the back of his throat as his fingers rise to flick over his nipples teasingly, and that's it.

Geralt comes hard, shivers wracking his frame as Jaskier works him through it, thrusts angled deliberately to hit his prostate. Each brush feels like coming anew, makes him whine sharply into Jaskier's mouth despite the lack of come painting his stomach--he's come almost dry this time.

He's still whining and clenching around Jaskier's length, still oversensitive, when Jaskier shoves in deep and comes with a strangled noise, lips slipping messily against his own. The feeling of being filled is good, makes him feel loose and pliant, even as Jaskier collapses across his chest, sticky mess between them.

They lay together, silently panting, for a long, tired moment before Jaskier shifts to pull out and rolls off him. Geralt immediately misses the firm weight of him.

He waits for Jaskier to say something in the issuing silence, but he doesn't, just lays there quietly alongside him, only the harshness of his breathing, already easing, between them.

"I'm...sorry," he says awkwardly, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He no longer feels like he might die, but he's still not quite right either, riding the aftershocks of pleasure that make him feel dumb and hazy.

"What for?" Jaskier asks, fingers rising to pluck at the ruined fabric of his chemise before squirming out of it with a sigh, tossing it somewhere to the side.

"For...forcing you into such a position," he says, and Jaskier sighs, an awful, put upon sound.

"You didn't force me into anything, Geralt," he says, "or were you not listening?" The reminder of Jaskier's very attentive lesson makes him flash hot. It's almost upsetting to be turned on again so soon. He doesn't think he could come again if he tried.

"I..."

"Do you need a reminder already?" he asks, voice like steel, and Geralt can't help the whimper that slips through his lips. "I told you I was here because I wanted to be. I do. Too much." Something in Geralt's chest lurches.

"I...not as much as I do," he mumbles, eyes averted. Jaskier is silent so long Geralt can't stand it--he looks back at him, just in time to catch the shock fading to something soft, something like longing.

"What do you mean, Geralt?"

Fuck. Jaskier's really going to make him say it. Again.

"I...told you," he says haltingly, and his cheeks are on fire, "I want you to want me."

"More than just when you're ten seconds from dying without an orgasm," Jaskier says, voice teasing, but there's sincerity behind it, and Geralt feels himself flush harder.

"Yeah."

"Good," Jaskier says simply, "because I do." It...takes Geralt a minute, for his world to readjust.

"You...do?"

"Mm," Jaskier hums, rolling closer and tucking his head under Geralt's chin pointedly. Belatedly, Geralt brings his arms up to wrap around his waist. Nothing about this could be considered comfortable--they're laying on the hard ground feet from Geralt's actual bedroll, Jaskier's still got his trousers on, Geralt can feel come dripping down his thighs and he's absolutely covered in his own spend, itchy where it's already begun to dry.

"Oh," he says softly, and Jaskier gives a snort of laughter, pressing a kiss to Geralt's collarbone.

"Thought you already knew, darling."

"I...did not," he says, and everything has a surreal, slightly fuzzy quality to it. It's...probably the after-affects of the potion, coupled with the haze of pleasure still running through him.

"Mm, well now you do," Jaskier says, "what are you gonna do about it?" It's teasing again, soft. Geralt sighs, a quiet, content gust of breath.

"'M gonna nap," he slurs out, dragging Jaskier closer to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "and then we'll see about repaying your...favor," he mumbles, and Jaskier laughs, bright and soft.

"I'll hold you to that."

[mrs-han]

Your drowsy eyes scanned through your dimmed phone. Back hunched and neck aching, you flipped and flopped repetitively until you could find a restful place to sleep.

But sleep never came.

You forced your eyes closed as you plopped on your side, head aching.

Your husband moaned and wrapped a heavy arm around you, pulling your waist close to him. You tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position to no avail.

“Jumin,” you whispered. “Psst. Bunny.”

“Mmmph.”

“I need… I -”

“No.”

You blinked, bewildered. “I wanna get comfortable, though.”

“You had all night to do that. Your constant fidgeting has finally gotten on my nerves,” your husband moaned. “Stay still and close your eyes.”

“But…” you tapped his forearm. “… I can’t sleep.”

Jumin shifted, sitting up groggily. “You can’t sleep?”

You shook your head, headache and all. “Sorry for bothering you… I just -”

Jumin snapped twice, activating a dimmer light setting. You squinted as your eyes adjusted.

“Why can’t you sleep?” Jumin leaned in and caressed your cheek. “Did you have a nightmare? Is something on your mind? Do you have to use the bathroom?”

You stifled a giggle. “Nah, none of those things! I think I’m just having a restless night.”

Jumin grimaced. “How awful.”

You beamed. “Tell me about it!”

“I may have something that can help,” Jumin smiled. “Lay back.”

You did as you were told. “Lemme guess, you’re gonna read to me. Or, or you’re gonna bore me to death with your business proposals.”

“Rude,” Jumin smirked. “Relax. Get comfortable.”

“Fine,” you nodded, resting your hands on your stomach. “What are you —”

Jumin delicately glided his pinky down the slope of your nose, his breath soothing your cold skin. “I’m going to profess my love to you.”

“Jumin, you know you don’t have to do that,” you scolded, poking his cheek. “You’ll be going on all night.”

“That’s the idea,” Jumin hummed. “Quiet down and listen.”

Charmed, you closed your eyes and began to stroke his cheek.

“It’s amazing,” Jumin cooed. “We’ve been married for well over five years now, and my heart still bows to you. I feel like I don’t tell you enough… no. That I don’t express my feelings for you. You, my goddess of love.”

You curled your toes as you could no longer surprise the smile biting at your lips. “Jumin…”

“I should have known from the start that it would be you. You, the first who called me directly instead of reaching Assistant Kang. You, the only who pretended to be a kitten just to make me smile.” Jumin moved to cradle your head under his arm, his pinky now tracing your chin and cheekbones. “My guard was lowered by your innocence, your curiosity and your blatant care for everybody… for me.”

You closed your eyes, no longer able to look into Jumin’s intense gaze. A gaze full of intimate love and affection.

“I said before… that you shouldn’t have been so nice to me. For that is what ultimately lead to my unyielding feelings for you. Your kindness is what thawed my deepest self and I knew. I knew I needed that kindness, as I didn’t know what it meant or what it truly was. A kindness that evolved to a never-ending love.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but his thumb gently shut your lips.

“Like a storm at sea. Like a lone man in the desert. That is what I was accustomed to. That is what I believed my entire life would consist of. Do you understand? Do you understand how your tiny footfalls have calmed my innermost screaming? No. No you don’t, because I have failed to tell you.”

Jumin leaned in, pressing his lips to your warm ear.

“So I will tell you now. And I will tell the entire world shamelessly. That you have rescued me from the deepest depths of the ocean. You continue to slay the demons that try to plague me. You, with your presence alone, have calmed the storms that have corrupted my heart and soul. You alone stand at the precipice of it all. You alone.”

Jumin pressed a kiss to your ear. To your jaw. To your cheek, your chin, your nose, your bridge.

“I love you. I love you. I love you, I love you.”

Speechless and breathless, you kept your eyes closed. Jumin pressed a tender kiss to your lips, cradling your cheek in his hand. “Sleep tight, my dearest love.”

He lingered for a moment, plucking the hair from your face with extreme delicacy. With a snap of his fingers, the lights turned off and he wrapped his arms securely around you, nuzzling his nose against your neck.

While you lay beside him more awake than ever, heart beating out of your chest.

[999kintsugi]

@contoursilver,

[...] gyuri’s smiling, the leather on the palms of her fingerless gloves dragging on fabric, a bit like the winner of a bet, a very lucky fortune, as one of her hands comes up, chipped black nail polish tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, lingering to brush a gentle thumb against eunjae’s cheek. her eyes gleam with the satisfaction of running into her when she would’ve gone looking for her anyways, hands linking together at the low curve of her back. “looks like i found you all lost in the dark, hm? how long’s the power been out?”

gyuri's greeting brings a matching, if not more smug, smile to eunjae's face as she steps into her orbit. she feigns innocence as she slips her arms over gyuri's shoulders. "sorry. i didn't recognize you from behind," she says easily, as if she doesn't have years of experience seeking gyuri in crowds, from a distance, through the pounding beat of daemon's music or the roar of a match. she'd know her by her shadow, she thinks. it only seemed fitting; in those months before she found seonjae again, when the dark seemed so oppressive and heavy, it felt like there was nothing with her as she stumbled through it.

now the dark isn't so frightening. in the dark, she could pretend it's gyuri, wrapping in close like this.

it's rare that she's not the one reaching for her first, so eunjae figures they're alone. eunjae's also never been one to refuse a gift.

"it's been four hours, maybe? i was coming to check up on you." gyuri brushes against a tender spot on her cheekbone and eunjae winces at the sweet sting, laying a hand over her wrist and helping move her arm lower instead. eunjae shakes her head a little, letting the same strand of hair come loose again to cover that smarting bruise. "i didn't see you at daemon last night, so i figured i got my days wrong and you were working tonight instead. wasn't sure if you got all the emergency announcements earlier."

she leans in to nuzzle the ghost of a kiss along gyuri's jaw. gyuri's brought home the air of daemon with her, leather and alcohol and copper—or maybe eunjae's still tasting the blood from the night before. she rolls two fingers over the back of gyuri's neck, massaging that strip of skin above the collar of her jacket because gyuri's clip is messy in her hair again and eunjae knows all about stupid hair accessories inflicting headaches or worse. she clicks her tongue. "maybe you didn't see. the sublevel's off limits for maintenance, which means you actually shouldn't be here," she points out, playfulness gleaming in her eyes.

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

twenty-five and over || tom holland x reader

a/n: what is my work if not slightly belated! happy birthday tom, here’s a little something for you all to celebrate. I am trying to get round to reading and sharing some of the fics that I really love, try to create more love between creators and their work - hit me up with some of your favourite tom writers who I should check out! would love to hear from you! as always, stay safe and big love to you all xo 

word count: 1213 warnings: fluff fluff fluff unless you’re also having a quarter life crisis then this could be triggering (but all very playful) summary: your boyfriend, Tom, is stressed at the very idea of turning 25 and what this next stage of life means

“I’m old.”

You looked up blearily from the kitchen island where you were leaning, scrolling on your phone. It was early morning and you were still half asleep, the surprising warmth of the UK weather having kept you up all night.

“Tom, you’re not old.”

“I’m old.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Y’know they didn’t even ID me last night...I always get ID’d.” He mumbled into the couch cushions.

“You hate it when they ID you! Plus, you always forget your ID anyway.”

Your boyfriend was lying on his front, sprawled out on the sofa. His curly hair only just visible in amongst the cushions.

“That’s not the point, it’s the principle of it!” You could hear the deep sigh coming from the couch and put a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. He’d been at this for the past 20 minutes or so.

“Y’know I now have to tick the ‘twenty-five and over’ box when I sign up to things? Like as if I didn’t feel bad about it already, now I get regular reminders?!”

“I mean, on the bright side...at least you’re not the ‘over’ just yet - because then we really would have a problem.”

You swiftly dodge a rogue cushion that was thrown in your direction, and watch as it hit the fridge before falling to the floor with a light thud.

“So what? You agree? You think I’m old too!”

He lifted his head briefly to scowl at you, before planting it face down into the cushions again.

You abandoned your phone on the counter, padding across the wooden floors in your socks and one of Tom’s oversized t-shirts. You kneel on the rug in front of the sofa and rest your chin on the edge.

“Oi, movie star.”

You talk softly, knowing that Tom was sporting a killer headache, his hangover being the very thing that had started this whole conversation.

He moved his head to the side to look at you, pouting.

“What?”

You reached out a hand, tangling your fingers through his soft brown curls placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“You’re being silly. You’re not old. But you are the birthday boy, who I might add, is in very high demand today.”

He sighs again, shifting around to lie on his back.

“Can’t I just stay with you?” He drawled out dramatically.

You laugh, as he moved up giving you space to sit on the edge of the sofa. You shake your head, hair falling out of the messy bun you’d put it in last night.

“Nope. You’ve gotta visit your parents before they leave for Scotland, plus Paddy will want to see you. And then you have golf booked with the boys. You love golf.”

“I don’t want to go. I’ll cancel and rearrange.”

He slid his arms around your torso, squeezing him into your side as he pulled you down to him. You laughed. You adored this side of Tom. He wasn’t so willing to show it off publicly, keeping your relationship away from prying eyes as much as possible but in private he was a massive soft touch, constantly craving affection and attention from you.

“No you won’t, you’ll love it when you’re there. You just have to survive without me until three.”

He mumbled his reluctant acceptance into your hair, his nose sliding down the side of your face as he nestled into you. Delicate kisses littered your eyebrow, then your cheek until he made it to your mouth.

“What was that for?”

“Because it’s my birthday, and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You take a moment to just lie there, tangled together. You let yourself enjoy the clenched sun kissed muscles that were wrapped around you, as soft warm breaths exhaled against your cheek. If it were possible to stay like this all day you would. The curtains billowed in the tiny breeze that blew in, the large bay windows glistening with fragments of golden sunlight as the world slowly woke up.

You kept a hand playing with a coiled lock of his hair, twisting it through your fingers, watching Tom’s eyelashes flutter with sleep.

“C’mon Tom, before you fall asleep on me.”

You placed your own kisses on either side of his temples, then his forehead and along his slightly crooked nosed before regretfully sliding yourself out from his embrace.

He groaned at the loss of you. He covered his eyes with one arm, blocking out the bright sun and held the other out to you.

“I’m old, remember? Help me up?”

You laughed.

“Nice try hot shot, up you get.”

Closing his eyes and giving a deep sigh, he rolled dramatically off the sofa and to his feet.

“See,” you said cheerily, “an old person wouldn’t be able to do that as gracefully as you just did. And with a hangover too!”

You heard him mumbling to himself as he shuffled his way through the apartment, bedroom door shutting with a thud behind him.

////

“ - happy birthday dear Tom, happy birthday to you.”

You sung sweetly, placing the homemade cake with purple frosting on the table in front of Tom. He grinned up at you, tapping his knee and threading his fingers between yours as he pulled you into his lap.

“When did you make this?!”

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, counting out the 25 flickering candles and admiring your handiwork as he traced patterns on your bare thigh. You’d just been for a romantic birthday dinner at one of Tom’s favourite Japanese restaurants in the city before coming back to yours for dessert.

You’d spent your afternoon manning your work phone whilst simultaneously baking a surprise birthday cake for Tom, piping out the happy birthday message in swirly blue icing.

“I love it. Thank you.” Tom went to blow out his candles when you quickly interrupted.

“Wait! You gotta make a wish.”

“What?”

“You have to close your eyes and make a wish.”

You watch as he closes his eyes, pauses for a couple moments and then leans forwards slightly, tightening his hands around your waist.

Opening his eyes, he blew out the candles, each one dancing above the melting wax before disappearing with an exhale.

“Do you wanna know what I wished for?”

He caresses your cheek with his hand, brushing a thumb across the light pink blush dancing across your cheekbones.

“If you tell me it won’t come true. How about I share something with you instead?

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, tilting his head and brought his ear to your lips so you could whisper into it. Your eyes connected with each other instantly, stares intense.

“Oh really?” He questions, as your blush deepens.

Before you had a chance to realise what was happening, Tom stood up from the chair, scooping you up bridal-style as you clung to his shoulders and neck. You let out a slight squeal at the sudden movement before letting out peals of laughter.

“Where are we going exactly?” You ask, running a finger over some of the perfect buttery frosting, dolloping a smidge onto the end of his nose.

Nudging doors open with his hip, still cradling you to his chest, he made his way over to the bedroom, lightly depositing you into the middle of the king sized mattress.

“I’m going to show you what 25 really looks like.”

[captainstiddies]

Little One ; Lawyer! Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

a/n: this is my first time in like years posting smut so be gentle lol, but massive thank you to @illumisbundles for being my test dummy and helping with the title and everything love u!!

universe: modern, lawyer! Levi

pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT MINORS DON'T INTERACT LIKE AT ALL, jealous!Levi, edging, dacryphilia, slight overstim, daddy kink, dom!Levi

Levi was always incredibly formal, always a firm handshake and a cordial nod at these types of events. He always had a firm hand on your back leading you through the crowds of people at the annual gala. He was already so stand-offish on the day to day but having to be surrounded by every single one of his rich clients whose only problem was picking which summer home to visit this year was headache-inducing. Having you by his side, however, made it so much more manageable. The way you could navigate any conversation with a graceful smile while always finding a quick way out, made these events much more pleasing for the lawyer.

He tapped your back twice signalling silently that he was going to get a refill on drinks and you nodded pressing a kiss against his temple as he walked towards the bar. Leaving you standing at a small table by yourself, it wasn't long until one of his interns had approached you sparking up a lively conversation. At first, it wasn't a big deal you learned his name was Eren Yaeger and it was his first gala and he at first just seemed nervous until you could tell he started leaning in a little closer, complimenting your 'form'. And when you met eyes with your boyfriend across the room you could see him seething.

Even with how logical Levi was he couldn't help how jealous he became whenever he saw someone flirting with you. Especially when they were almost a good foot taller than him and still taller than you in your heels. He stalked back towards you and by the time Eren even noticed you weren't interested Levi was beside you again this time his hand was gripping your waist, bunching the fabric of your dress. "Yaeger, don't you have better things to do than annoy her?" His stern voice could've made Eren shit in his pants if he hadn't rented the tux, so he almost ran away from the table.

Turning towards Levi you went to speak but instead, you were met with that look in his eyes that already had heat pooling between your legs. "Downstairs, get the car I'll be down in five minutes." With that, he kisses your cheek walking to Erwin to make some excuse that you both have to leave, and without a second thought, you gather your coat and clutch and head towards the elevator.

Your crossed legs bounced as you waited in the backseat of the car, the driver simply smoking as he leant against the wall. You on the other hand couldn't seem to relax knowing exactly what punishment you were going to be given. When the driver swung open his door you jolted upright and less than a second later Levi slid into the seat beside you adjusting his jacket and tapping on the divider signalling to the chauffer to leave. For most of the ride Levi's silent, his hand placed firmly on your thigh squeezing just enough to remind you what you were in for when you got home.

The minute Levi let you into your condo he pulled you into a searing kiss, his hands gripping your hair before he pushes you against the wall. "Levi..." His glare silences you before you can continue before picking you up by your thighs, instinctively causing your legs to wrap around his waist. Levi's lips attach to the soft skin of your neck, sucking and biting harshly intent on leaving marks in his wake. He carried you to your bedroom before letting you fall onto the sheets and Levi had to admit he loved seeing you like this, dress up over your hips, lipstick smudged across your mouth, your heaving chest showcasing the already developing array of reds and purples marks along your neck.

His hands came to run along the skin of your thighs as he sighed. "Oh angel, do you know how much Yaeger truly angers me? He acts like everything belongs to him, and you played right into that didn't ya?" His eyebrow cocked as he looked down at you but all you could focus on was the feeling of his index finger ghosting over your clothed pussy. "Answer me." His command is followed by a swift slap to the outside of your thigh, watching as the skin jiggled. "No! No, I swear Daddy." He tsked at your pathetic plea before finally rubbing against your clit through your panties eliciting a moan to fall from your lips. "Little one, don't lie, I know exactly what you did, you showed him just how low cut that dress was, you let him think he could have you but no. You're mine." Pushing your panties to the side he slid his fingers into your already slick core, curling against the spongey spot inside of you. Setting an intense pace he leaned over you.

"Say it, don't make me ask twice angel." Levi's hot breath against your ear sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm yours, all yours, please I'm all yours-Please." You begged a hand going to his shoulder to steady yourself as the heel of his hand hit against your clit eliciting a lewd moan to leave your lips. Levi snickered as he lowered to his knees. "Use your words little one." He knew you like the back of his hand he knew from the minute he entered the car he knew he had you all riled up the way each time he squeezed your thigh a little harder and you would jump. Now even with his fingers knuckle deep inside you he could read you like a book the way you rolled your hips at each curl of his fingers or the shiver and whine that came from him blowing cool air against your skin.

"I want your mouth, hnn Daddy please i-I'll be good I promise." Your voice hitched as he pulled his fingers from inside you, a whine leaving you as Levi hooked his fingers into the band of your panties pulling them down and throwing them over his shoulder the smirk never left his lips nor did his eyes ever leave yours as he lowered his mouth to your now soaked pussy. He blew cold air against your clit causing you to jolt and whine out for him a hand going to his hair before Levi grabbed your wrist. "Hands above your head angel, one-touch and you won't cum for the rest of the fucking week." You did what you were told and when he was satisfied he sucked your clit into his mouth causing a loud moan to leave your lips gripping tightly at the sheets above your head, back arching as he continued his assault on your clit.

Levi slid his fingers back into your aching core curling up against your g-spot. You were getting close and he could tell from the way you clenched around his fingers at each thrust and from how desperately you were clinging onto the sheets trying to be his good girl."'M so close daddy- Fuck! So close so fucking close, please!" Sadly, your cries fell on deaf ears as you felt the knot tighten in your stomach until Levi pulled away completely. "Bad girls don't get to cum."

Levi continued his attack on your pussy bring you to the edge over and over again until you were crying for him to just fuck you. You were a blubbering mess when he finally rose from his knees, from where he was standing he towered over you, was able to look over your naked form. The dress had been discarded almost ten minutes ago your body was twitching and shaking from the sheer amount of times your orgasm had been ruined. Levi wiped your slick from his chin as he watched you pant. Your eyes glazed over with tears as he undid his belt and pulled his pants and boxers off. Levi slowly worked his hand along his cock, precum already slowly spilling from the swollen tip. Grabbing you from beneath your knees he pushed your legs against your chest, exposing your spasming pussy to him.

He pushed himself into your tight walls, a low groan came from his chest as he bottomed out. "Still so fucking tight angel, so fucking perfect." He started his pace slow and deep rolling his hips against yours every time, hitting your cervix with each roll. It didn't take long for that knot to tighten again inside you, Levi's lips met yours in a bruising kiss, you could still taste yourself on his tongue causing an almost pornographic moan to leave you. The second his free hand came to your clit rubbing hard and fast circles your hands flew to his shoulders. "Please, oh god! Please 'm gonna cum!" This time however he didn't pull away instead he moved his lips to your shoulder biting against the soft skin. A scream ripped through you as the white-hot of your orgasm moved through your body.

Watching you come undone just drove Levi crazy, his thrusts turned erratic as he came closer and closer to his own edge his fingers never stopping as he made you jolt from the overstimulation "No, no daddy, I can't." Your cries were masked by the absolutely lewd sounds coming from your pussy as Levi pistoned into you. "You've been begging to-fuck cum for an hour angel, Jesus Christ can't take another one?" his head fell forward resting his forehead against yours as he pressed further against your legs with his chest his free hand came to your neck squeezing it as he watched you cry from pleasure, the orgasm almost catching you by surprise. You clawed at his back as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Levi snapped his hips into you one more time as he let out a low groan quickly followed by thick hot spurts of cum. Pulling out he watched as a mixture of yours and his cum dripped from your fluttering and gaping hole. He was tempted to finger it back into you, maybe if you got pregnant no one would ever act as if you were free to be picked up like a common whore. His eyes scanned up your body and landed on your tear-streaked face. "Little one, look at me... c'mon open those pretty eyes." He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against the damp skin of your cheekbone. Slowly you opened your eyes a hand coming to rest on his. "There's my pretty girl." He cooed softly as he kissed your forehead. Standing up he went to the ensuite damping a towel for your face and another to clean you up. Pulling on a clean pair of boxers he sat beside you running the cool cloth against your skin cleaning you as best he could until your shower in the morning.

Once you were situated under the covers he pulled you into his side, pressing soft kisses along your hairline, rubbing gentle circles along your spine. "You were so good for me little one, I love you so much don't forget it ever, please." His voice was soft as he whispered against your skin. Sleepily you nodded, your body was still sore and would probably be tenfold in the morning. "Levi...I love you too, 'm not gonna leave you for some stupid intern, you know that right?" It was his turn to nod, reaching over to turn off the table lamp. "I know angel, sleep now. You need to rest."

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”