#the juxtaposition. THE MATCHING RINGS ON THEIR FINGERS.

[aeteut]

sirius and regulus, the most beautiful stars in the night sky.

By likeafunerall, and reposted with permission.

[usedtobecooler]

thinking about going on a date with joe and giving him a sloppy tipsy blowjob in the alley next to the bar ))):

he’s smart, sophisticated, suave in a way that made other men pale in comparison. he was cultured, intelligent, knew a lot of the world that most men his age didn’t. he’d wooed you by speaking fluent italian after he swore up and down he was poor at it — though he could be arrogant when he wanted to be, when he knew he was good at something.

he’s flirty without meaning to be. it comes naturally to him, through the lingering glances, the occasional touch of your skin when you made him laugh. the toothy smile and the way he’d lean into you. he always had to be close to you, just enough that his heat radiated against you. he’s sat next to you in the booth, cosied up and cheeks flushed pink from too many martinis.

you weren’t a martini girl. but you were for him. anything he wanted you to be, you would be. you drank them slowly, savoringly, the briny, salty taste swirling on your tongue and making you dizzy. he notices you don’t eat the olives, swipes them from your glass and pops them in his mouth like it’s nothing.

your gaze lingers too long on his hands. his thick fingers. perfectly manicured nails. chunky silver rings. your belly pools with a heat, a deep need inside of you to gulp them down and lick the remainder of the olive juice off them. your cheeks flush dark and he smirks, leans over to brush your hair from your face and wrap one of those god forsaken hands around the side of your neck. brushes your jaw with his thumb. you’re melting.

he’s suited and booted head to toe in armani. two buttons on his silk shirt unbuttoned, his chest adorned with his pretty chains. black looks best on him, makes him look as sultry as he truly is. you want to jump his bones.

he excuses himself for a cigarette and you’re sat there with a hazy head, in need of something. your feet blindly follow him, thick fur jacket wrapped tightly around you to block out the cool winter chill.

he’s leaning against the wall, as if he’s not in a four thousand dollar suit, cigarette in one hand and phone in the other. his head snaps up when he hears you and he smiles, “you want?” he asks, offering you the smoke. you take it gratefully, hoping the nicotine would warm you up the way it always did when you were on a night out with friends, huddled in the doorway of some dingy pub for warmth.

you’re not your real self around him. he’s intimidating, you’re common. you get pissed on nights out and dance up against men in dirty clubs. you take them home and you don’t remember names. how you wound up with a man like him you’ll never know, but he clearly saw something in you that you never saw in yourself.

you’re in each others faces, giggling about nothing, he’s flushed pink down to his chest, from the alcohol no doubt. he’s gorgeous when he laughs, all teeth and crinkly eyes and he’s so pretty it makes you want to claw at the walls. he leans in and steals a kiss that you instantly turn heavy, opening your mouth for him.

his tongue is sinful, the way he licks into your mouth, the tinge of smoke and bitter alcohol dancing on your tongue. his cigarette is abandoned in his hand, the one that’s now gripping your waist through the thin material of your pretty satin dress. it’s white. virginal. a juxtaposition.

you drop to your knees in a fluid motion, expert fingers working the button and zip of his fancy, expensive suit trousers. you ruck them down just enough for his half hard cock to slip out. he’s big, uncut, a pretty shade of pink, thick enough that he’s a real stretch in your mouth.

“dirty girl,” he admires you with chocolate brown eyes and a seductive smile as you wrap your hand around him, tugging him off until he’s fully hard.

“i’m anything you want me to be,” you flutter your lashes prettily at him, pulling his foreskin back, spitting on the mushroom tip to get him all nice and wet for you. the head matches your lipstick, blush pink and shiny.

you make hasty work of it, wanting to be good for him and get him off quickly. your hand wraps around what your mouth can’t reach, jacking him into the heat of your wet mouth, sliding down so far he’s cutting off your breathing and you’re struggling.

he stumbles on his feet a little, hand petting your hair and the last of his cig dragging between his lips. you can’t take your eyes off of him, and he refuses to look away. he’s half lidded, puffy spit slick mouth open in a moan as he watches you just go to fucking town. you’re insatiable and he thinks he’s in love with you.

“that’s it, take my cock,” he’s muttering and it’s slurred as the hand in your hair fists gently and shoves you down even further until you’re gagging and your eyes are watering, “calm down, sweet girl. you can do it.”

and you do, breathing harshly through your nose as you swallow around the fat head pushed into your throat, tongue swiping over the thick vein on the underside, suckling. you’re drooling, it’s spilling out the sides of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

your jaw aches, your knees scream at you as they dig harshly into the gravel below, but you can't find it in you to care when he's looking down at you like he's never seen anything more beautiful, moaning and spewing profanities like he's got no worry that somebody could walk past and see you both at any point.

your free hand grips at the small expanse of his bared thigh, using that touch to ground yourself as he abuses your throat, fucking his hips back and forth until you're gagging and tears are spilling from your eyes, ruining your pretty makeup.

"stunning," he muses quietly, running a thumb over a tear stain on your cheek, hips stuttering, and you use that to your advantage, gaining control back and sucking him down wetly until he's whimpering above you, "fuck, m'coming."

you quirk a brow, swallow around him one last time, and he's coming hot down your throat, big wet eyes squeezing shut, unable to keep eye contact as he unloads in the heat of your mouth. you hum as you savour him on your tongue, because somehow even the heady taste of that was perfect.

he's a gentleman when he comes to, because he always is. he helps you up from the ground, and you help him tuck his spent cock back inside his pants in return. he kisses you like he doesn't care that your tongue tastes of his release, large hand engulfing your cheek and fingertips in your hair soothingly.

he lights another cigarette, and offers you your own one this time too. you smoke in the peaceful quiet, the drunken haze still overpowering and the ringing in your ears stunning you into silence. you're dumbstruck.

when you get back to his place he makes up for giving you sore knees by eating you out until you cry. because, like you said, he was a gentleman.

[painsandconfusion]

Back to Basics

With you - Part Twelve

(tw: kidnapping, domestic abuse, conditioned whumpee, reverting to conditioning, stockholm syndrome, yandere whumper)

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Ida woke early, stirring with the morning light that streamed through curtains inept at their job. They’d need new ones soon. The sun fades everything away until it’s transparent. Flimsy and useless. Just a shadow of what it used to be.

Still. Sunlight brings life. And life is warm and constant. 

Oren’s arms constrict minutely around them as they stir, pulling them a little closer. A little warmer as they lie limp in his embrace.

They promised themself they’d fight.

Just to sleep and then they’d fight again.

But they were still so tired.

They nuzzled into his chest, breathing in pine and smoke and caramel. Just existing with him for this infinite moment - hating themself, but too exhausted to care.

Oren hummed at their cuteness - Ida could hear the sleepy smile behind it. “Mm, g’morning dove..” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of their head, nuzzling back.

Ida let their lips stay sealed. They twined an arm around him to hold him a little closer - hoping that would cover their mouth’s inability to play along. Confused and exhausted by the juxtaposition.

It was a strange morning.

Strange in that it felt so natural. So..right? No. Not right. 

Never right.

But…it was easy.

They fit here. Fit perfectly. Oren had carved an Ida-shaped hole into this desolate home surrounded by forest, and they couldn’t help but unwind a little at how easily they fit into it.

They just fit.

Their hands wrapped easily around the familiar skillet handle as they fried eggs for breakfast. What kind? “Surprise me,” Was Oren’s response each time.

So they made different kinds on a sporadic rotation. Over-easy today. 

A kiss on their cheek followed a ‘smells great!’, accompanied by the rich warm scent of Oren’s shampoo as glistening curls brushed wet and cool against their temple. 

Water dripping down their cheek. 

Cool. Water. Not hot - not tears. Just fresh and clean and easily wiped away without burn.

They plated the eggs, poured the orange juice, brewed the coffee, ate in idle conversation with the warm, glowing sunrise peeking around the windows.

Helped Oren find matching socks.

Kissed him goodbye as he set out to work. 

Ignored the click of the padlock after the door closed.

Returned to the house.

And…started doing dishes in a haze. A simple, floating, translucent haze that kept them moving and placated. 

Washed the skillet, checked the spices and made a list of ones that had one bad and needed to be replaced. Put the grocery list on the fridge. Watered the plants. Read a book. Swept away what little they’d missed the day before.

It was easy.

It was natural.

And they didn’t have the energy to fight it.

By the end of the day, they found themself sat at the piano when Oren came home, prodding at dissonant keys and frowning at their flattened ring. 

Oren just wrapped his hands over their shoulders, kneading in softly and pressing a kiss to their head. “I’ll get someone to come by and tune it. I’d love to hear you play again.”

Ida hadn’t played in years - not since they left.

But now? In this moment of falling and snuggling back into the place Oren carved for them? 

It felt natural to ghost their fingers over the keys, humming softly along as Oren nuzzled into their neck.

That image which brought them so much terror through their dreams now seemed more akin to a warm, soft blanket snuggling around them. Safe and familiar and scented of pine.

Tipping their head back to nuzzle a kiss to Oren’s jaw, Ida found that they were yearning to play again. 

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(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @heathenwhump  @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @kesskirata @wibbly-wobbly-whump @wormwriting @batfacedliar-yetagain @paranoiaxagent @siren-of-agony @yells-in-lowercase @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @pinkieglitterheart @whumpasaurus101 @shameless-dumbass @darlingwhump @whumpy-catfish @hold-back-on-the-comfort)

As always, just lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[biglisbonnews]

What You Missed Last Month in NYC (According to Linux) This is What You Missed Last Month (According To Linux), in which nightlife it-girl Linux takes us behind the velvet rope and into the VIP section of Scene-City. Through her extreme (sometimes exaggerated) lens, Linux gives us the tea on what really happened at every party-of-the-century that floods our Instagram feeds. (A note from the author: don’t take what she says too seriously — she’s just a club kid after all).How lavish a lifestyle would you lead if you were the most cunt socialite on earth? Did you know models off-duty only party in places photography is prohibited? The irony! Are you aware that the richest kids you follow are referencing the less fortunate when they’re snorting lines of mephedrone in abandoned Bushwick warehouses? The juxtaposition! In this world-exclusive edition of Lifestyles of the Bitch & Famous, we’ll explore the fabulous and private domains of New York’s exclusive scenesters.Keeping your diamond-studded finger on the city’s pulse is a lot like the crashing of a subway train: No matter how triggering it is, we just can’t look away. And to that I say: Don’t! I’m no Robin Leach; in fact, my enemies would claim “Leech” more fitting. My name is Linux, and I am the New York Downtown It-Girl. Each and every month I fill you, my loyal and wise-beyond-their-years readers, in on What You Missed in our vibrant city’s nightlife circuit. So drink up, besties, we’ve got a lot to get through. And yes, I’ll hold your hair if you’re feeling sick, but I only ask that you throw up inside the Uber Black... I just love watching the driver clean it up!March 16: Mock's Magazines See on Instagram So there I was, bored out of my mind on a Thursday in Manhattan. It was already halfway through the month and not a single stunt had been stunted! Can you imagine writing a column about how major NYC nightlife is and in two damn weeks no bangers had been banged? Thankfully, that was all about to change off the back of New York’s premiere partyboi, Evan Mock. HBO’s former pansexual-for-pay king invited all the model-slash-actors to downtown’s iconic Iconic Magazines to ring in his newest gig with canned cocktail brand JuneShine. Nothing is funnier to me than a celebrity throwing a party to celebrate them receiving a fat paycheck. As a capitalist, I’ll drink to someone rich getting richer any day! Hours prior to the event, the gang transformed Mulberry Street’s last standing bodega into a Mock-Centric nightclub with a disco ball and DJ booth to match. By 7 PM, people I did not know but did recognize began filling up the space as DJs Juju & Booker took control of the music. (Are they a duo or two entities? The world will never know!) By the end of the night, I was sitting on the curb outside, drinking a JuneShine with a random girl waiting for her Uber to take us all to her apartment for afters. All roads in New York somehow lead to being cracked out in a car crossing the bridge at 7 AM!March 21: H&M Isla Hennes See on Instagram If there’s one thing about me... I love an H&M party. And no, that’s not me kissing ass to get into their Mugler collab next month... *wink*! Part Spring 2023 presentation, part dinner party, the Swedish fashion brand sent cutesie little invites to all our agents to stop by their Williamsburg boutique and experience their latest “Isla Hennes” collection. The whole vibe was Mediterranean Vacation, very White Lotus season two tease. This was much-needed schooling on what to wear to such a trip for me, as for the last one I took to the Mediterranean my only fashion reference was Snooki when the Jersey Shore cast went to Italy. Upon entering I was immediately greeted with a mezcal on the rocks (my fav!) and shown the newest H&M looks that’ll be hitting the stores this season. After taking out my daddy’s credit card and buying the entire line, I was ushered to the dining room with all the other cool people for a multi-course dinner by renowned chef Camille Becerra. Other notable attendees included superstar Richie Shazam and celebrity stylist Beverly Nguyen. On my way out, a tarot card reader told me a life of fame and excess was on the way for me... I slipped her a twenty. I love you H&M, but next time let’s go to the real Mediterranean! Until then, Williamsburg will have to do. Now about that Mugler invite...March 24: HOE Five-Year Anniversary See on Instagram When I first moved to NYC, there was only one cool party in the city where the DJs played pop music. The name was Heaven on Earth, a monthly by Ty Sunderland thrown at downtown’s China Chalet. The spot was a Chinese restaurant by day that Sunderland turned into a pop rave by night. Sunderland would bring in two stripper poles for the crowd to dance on, and, when pop hits like “Bad Romance” played, the gays jumped so hard in unison you could feel the entire building shake. (I’m still shocked the floor never caved in!) When you were exhausted from dancing you could smoke a cigarette inside over by the bar. Unfortunately, like all good venues in New York, China Chalet closed its doors for good during the pandemic. Five years later, Sunderland took a chance and brought Heaven on Earth back for one night only at Brooklyn’s Sugar Hill Restaurant and Supper Club. To put it lightly: the night was a complete success! There’s just something about turning a restaurant into a rave that makes these kids go crazy! Gays, dolls and celebs filled out the multi-room supper club and raged to pop hits until the early morning. Ty brought in the same stripper poles from the China Chalet days, where nobodies felt like somebodies, dancing like J.Lo in Hustlers in the thick fog. In a side room, fashion gays gabbed and talked shit with stars like Adam Lambert and Christian Siriano. I know I speak for the whole scene when I say: please Ty, bring Heaven on Earth back full time and make her permanent home Sugar Hill!March 29: Sulwhasoo at the Metropolitan Museum of Art See on Instagram They say having an unexplainable feeling of being famous is an early sign of schizophrenia. If that’s the case, run me my diagnosis, baby, because tonight I feel like a star! At the last moment of March, Korean skincare brand Sulwhasoo spent the dollars to celebrate their newest partnership with the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Rules of New York society: when you’re invited to wear a gown to the Met... you wear a gown to the Met. The evening began with a cunty step-and-repeat on the iconic Met steps. My turn for photos was after Rosé from Blackpink and before Charli XCX. Post-red carpet and on the way to the bar, the three of us talked about how excited we are for the upcoming Coachella season (which I am also covering right here for PAPER... stay tuned!). After picking up our cocktails, we spoke about how much we miss carbs before the three of us posed for even more pictures that the BFA guy chose to not tag me in. (You’ll regret this, Mr. BFA!) I later shared a bathroom lip-gloss moment with Song Jia and Duckie Thot. Bored of the girls' bathroom, I took a chance at the men’s, where I ran into friends Diego Villarreal and jewelry designer Austin Smith. The three of us also shared a lip-gloss moment. The thick of the party took place in the Met’s Temple of Dendur. I’ve lived through many major nights, but there’s absolutely nothing more iconic than drinking with a bunch of A-Listers around millions of dollars' worth of ancient Egyptian artifacts! Of course, the night wouldn’t have been complete without a giant goodie bag of Sulwhasoo skincare. If you notice me getting hotter in the next few weeks... it’s not Sulwhasoo, it’s the baby blood we all drank at the Illuminati meeting afterward! Related | A Night at the Museum With Sulwhasoo and RoséPhotography, styling and hair: Airik Prince Art direction: Chris Correa https://www.papermag.com/linux-what-you-missed-march23-2659738024.html

[luveline]

hey! this is my first time requesting and i’m a little nervous so i’m choosing to do anon!

i was wondering if we could get boyfriend eddie sweeting talking/comforting his reader gf that has alopecia? i personally have it and i haven’t seen it anywhere. :)

hi!!!! i love u ty for ur request i went with the r having a small/medium sized patch of hair missing that can be pulled into a ponytail, i hope that's okay! ♡ fem!reader

It's small enough to hide but big enough to be obvious that you're hiding something. Eddie swears to you that you can't see it now you've tugged it up into a ponytail, but Eddie's a huge liar. He'd spare your feelings before ever admitting he can see it.

"Are you lying?" you ask. He definitely is.

"Seriously, baby. You can't tell... and even if you could-"

"Eddie!" You scramble to the mirror and turn, trying your best to spot the bare patch by yourself.

"I'm just saying! I'm just saying, you don't have to worry. You don't have to hide it."

"Of course I do. It's not exactly the fashion."

"Since when do we care about fashion?"

"I'm not walking around with my scalp showing."

Eddie follows you to the mirror. He holds your shoulder firmly in one hand and brings the other to your head to smooth down your hair. He's careful as he encourages a band of hair over to the side, his fingertips unbearably kind. He tightens up your hair tie and takes your small can of hairspray into his hands, shaking it.

"You can't see it," he says as he sprays your hair flat. "I promise. Please don't worry about it, angel."

You bite your tongue, furious with yourself as a freak wave of tears wells in your eyes. "I can't not worry about it, Eddie."

"Let me worry about it."

"You- you'll tell me if it looks obvious?"

He puts down the hairspray and turns you by your shoulders. His eyes match his expression, fondness furthered by the puppy dog's he's giving you. "I swear on my life." His smile turns wry. He chucks your chin. "You're fucking beautiful, you know that?"

"I'd be much prettier if I weren't balding," you say hotly.

Eddie loathes your self disgust. His smile drops into a frown, his hands rigid over your shoulders. Slowly, slowly, they relax. His fingers trail down the lengths of your arms until he's found and stolen your hands.

"You couldn't get any prettier. Physically impossible. Unfeasible. Nothing will change that, ever."

You look down at his hands, ring-clad, callus-wrought. The juxtaposition of them isn't lost on you. He's the softest touch you've ever met.

"Are you sure?" you ask weakly.

"Yes." His response is immediate. He shakes your hands until your lift your gaze to his angled head, forehead inclined seriously. "I'm sure. Positive, sweet thing. You're aces."

You relax.

"We don't have to go, you know. We could stay here, spark up, let me show you how much I mean it?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

You slap his chest. "Shut up." You take a deep breath. "Better take me before I lose my nerve."

He chuckles and pulls you out of the bathroom by the hand.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Oh my god i just found you're writing and I'm obssessed. First of all, I'm in love with your edgy!karl series. Seriously, it's amazing. Second of all, I had a little idea that you can take as a request if you'd like. I was thinking edgy!dream/clay but with a shy innocent girl. And a hint of some fear play kink? Like she's all cute and he's so edgy shes scared and intimidated by him when they meet and it turns him on knowing shes both scared of him AND attracted to him at the same time so he uses it against her(consensually of course)

can we call him alt!dream? ;) also,,, i rly like this request...

𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), fighting, smoking, language, oral (fm. receiving), fear play, asphyxiation, sight size kink & praise, dominance

The movie theatre dimmed, the beginning credits of the film reeling as a montage of a city played in the background. You settled back in your seat, accepting the fact that you had been stood up, determined not to let it ruin the movie you had already paid for. That’s right; instead of treating yourself to a new pair of shoes or a set of notebooks, you agreed to meet up with a sleazy guy from class after weeks of him pleading.

You sighed slightly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you realized you hadn’t even wanted to see the film and had only agreed because he suggested it. Someone moved into a seat near you, his legs stretching as he slumped down, purely due to his towering height. You stiffened, crossing your legs to inch away from him at the sight of his various tattoos peeking out from beneath his dark corduroy jacket.

He carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, revealing an eyebrow ring as he swept his bangs off his forehead momentarily. You tore your eyes from him as you noticed the cigarette balanced behind his ear. Even with the seat between the two, you could smell the smoke on his clothes mixing with the faintest hint of vanilla.

You folded your hands in your lap as you noticed him give you a once over. He reached towards you, making you flinch slightly before you realized he was holding out his bag of candy to you. “Want a jellybean? You look upset,” he motioned, voice low as he whispered.

You shook your head quickly, muttering a thank you and playing with your fingers. He shrugged, watching you for a second more before turning back to the movie. He tucked his arm behind his head, chewing on his lip as if debating whether he should keep talking to you or just let you be. You weren’t really sure which outcome you preferred.

On one hand, he fit every one of your guilty pleasure fantasies, while on the other, he terrified the hell out of you. It was more of an intimidating feeling, residing in the way each of his movements caught your attention and the way you could barely keep your eyes off his grungy appearance. Your mind drifted from the plot of the movie and towards the images of his tattooed hands wrapping around your throat and giving you a reason to be scared.

“You here alone?” He asked, popping another jellybean in his mouth. The action made you think of your grandpa waning himself off of tobacco when you were younger. Those jellybeans were blue and a flavor of comfort for you now, while the man before you seemed to only fish for the red ones.

You nodded hesitantly. “I got stood up,” you mumbled, making him shake his softly. “What about you? Are you here alone?” You wondered where you had gathered the courage to talk to him, his demeanor making you want to run, but his voice was a symphony to your ears in the darkness of the movie house, drawing you closer with each of his lulling words.

He wet his lips. “So far,” he answered. He stuck out his large hand for you to shake, his skin was coarse against yours as his finger reached to brush against your wrist. “I’m Clay,” he added, his name rolling into your mind and nestling itself into your memory just due to the tone of his voice. After you gave him your name his mouth curled into a soft smirk. “It’s nice to meet you,” he remarked. You blushed for an unknown reason, thankful for the darkness to mask your emotions.

Someone entered the theatre, marching up to Clay and leaning down to his ear. “Dream, we have to go now,” the guy whispered into his ear, just loud enough that you could hear him. Clay's face twisted into an annoyed expression while the guy turned to leave.

Clay straightened his jacket on his shoulders. “Not to seem to forward, but can I get your number?” He queried. You raised your eyebrows at him, basking in the fact that despite his friend’s agitation, Clay was taking his sweet time making his move on you.

As if you were acting on instinct, you grabbed a pen from your bag as he held his hand out to you again. You found a bare spot on his skin and wrote your number as clearly as you could manage with your shaking hands at the way his eyes watched you alluringly. Without thinking, you blew on the ink, trying to keep it from smearing. You froze, realizing what you were doing as he bit back a smirk.

He was completely eating up your awkwardness.

He reluctantly took his hand back, being pulled up by his friend. “I’ll call you,” he whispered on his way out, heat rushing to your ears.

The movie ended shortly after he left, sending you back out onto the city streets and away from your cocoon where you had forgotten about the sleazy classmate and let thoughts of Clay weasel their way into your nerves. As you stepped through the doors, your phone began to ring, kick-starting your heart at the thought of it being Clay. Instead, it was a friend of yours asking how your date had gone. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you pulled a piece of gum out of your purse.

Her ramblings went deaf on your ears as a car violently pulled up to an alleyway a block from you. You squinted as you moved closer, your apartment being in that direction anyway. A few men got from the car and that’s when Clay stepped into view from behind one of the buildings, flicking his cigarette to the ground and snubbing it out with the toe of his heavy boots as he watched them get out. You could see your number still written on his hand, mixing with his tattoos.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking tiredly at the group of men that had come from the car as his friends began to shout at them. Clay chewed on his lip, looking around and away from the conversation before his gaze met yours. His eyes widened slightly before he turned back, an attempt to keep the attention away from you.

One of the car members grabbed for Clay’s jacket, yanking him closer as if to get him to pay mind to the man talking. Clay sent him a cocky grin, towering over him. With his normal height and his boots, he had at least a foot on the guy. One of Clay’s friends separated the two, breaking the groups into a brawl while shouting was accompanied with fists and elbow jabs.

You turned, walking in another direction as briskly as you could without bringing attention to yourself and the group of boys in the alleyway. Little did you know, Clay was watching you leave and kicking himself for it.

The next day, your mind was racing with Clay’s whereabouts. He seemed like he had his opponents under control, but what if one of them had brought a knife or another weapon? It wasn’t unusual for boys in the city to butt heads like they were, but the fact that you’d let one nearly pick you up the night before was boggling.

You gripped the strap of your bag as you crossed the street, stepping onto the sidewalk and adjusting your skirt. You kept your head down as you passed various people coming and going from their apartments before your ears picked up on a familiar voice. You picked your eyes up, spotting Clay and a small group of guys walking together. He popped a jellybean in his mouth after chiming into their conversation.

You held your breath as they neared you and that’s when you noticed his bruised face and scraped knuckles. Your number was faded on his skin, but still apparent on the back of his hand. He smiled at you, breaking off from his group and walking backward to match your pace. You bit back a smile. “Glad to see you’re okay,” you mumbled, barely able to make eye contact with him. His friends called out for him and he waved them off, walking in line with you.

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, sorry. I would have called last night but…” he made a gesture to his torso as he trailed off. “I broke a rib. I didn’t really… I don’t.” He laughed sheepishly as you raised your eyebrows. “I’m fine. It’s good,” he brushed.

You picked your gaze off the pavement finally, focusing on his discolored black eye and busted lip. He didn’t seem to be too hurt, but he wore his wounds well. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” He asked, voice changing slightly. You drew in a sharp breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before it could get further knotted in the wind. A few people narrowed their eyes at the two of you and you wondered how you looked together. What kind of juxtaposition it was; his tall, dark figure looking like death in Doc Martens while you barely passed his shoulder in height with your less intimidating color scheme.

You debated how to answer him. Your eyes flickered to his dangly earring; a silver ankh. He ate another jellybean. “I was at first. I’m still kind of weary of you, I guess,” you muttered, making a smile bite into his features.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, which you were beginning to believe was a habit when he was coming up with what to say. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

You shook your head. A blush crept to your cheeks. “No, I kind of like it,” you mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. His hand slipped into yours and you could feel your chest tighten.

“You like being scared of me?” His voice was dripping with allure, making you bite your tongue in a flushed embarrassment. “You just keep getting better and better,” he teased, making your ears burn.

You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but God, were you thankful for Clay’s hands as they kneaded your ass, his lips pressing against yours. He ground his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth as your nails sank into his tattooed skin. His tongue pressed past your lips, his large hand moving to fist in the sheets beside you before dragging up your shirt to grip your breast.

You breathlessly moaned as he broke your kiss, lips trailing down your body as he sat back on his knees, dragging your underwear off as your shirt was also discarded to the floor. He looped his arms around your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth as his concentrated stare shifted to your eyes before he buried himself between your legs, your body tensing as a groan ripped through your body. Your fingers carded through his soft blond hair, tugging slightly in appraisal as he pulled away from you.

Clay looked up at you again, slowly pressing one of his long fingers into you, you moaned his name, reaching one of your hands up to grip at the headboard above you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, voice deep with lust as his breath fanned against your wet core. He pushed another finger into you as you nodded. He pressed his lips to your thigh. “I can’t believe you’re scared of me,” he mocked, making you whimper as his fingers pulsed against your sweet spot.

He pressed his lips to your core again, tongue teasing at your nerves as you caught your lips between your teeth. You moved your knee further up his arm for a better angle, driving him deeper. He pulled away, his fingers speeding up. “So needy,” he chuckled, the sound enough to send you over the edge if you really thought about it.

“Clay, please. I want you,” you whined softly, your thighs threatening to close around his head. His eyes sparkled devilishly, leaning away from you before tugging your legs towards him. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, jaw tensing as you moaned around him.

He grabbed your hips, flipping your body and pushing your shoulders into the mattress. You heard him unbuckling his belt and your fingers knitted into the sheets beneath you. He pulled you back by the shoulders, hand moving to hold onto your neck. “Maybe I should give you something to be scared of,” he chided, making a shiver run up your spine as he pushed your thighs apart driving himself up into you. You were sure you would tear in half at the sheer size of him, but you bit back your whimpers at the pleasuring pain.

One of your hands moved to grip onto his arm as he thrust into you, his teeth threatening to dig into your shoulder as you moaned. His other hand moved to tease at your nerves, his determination to summon your orgasm sending your head reeling. You tilted back your head, resting against his shoulder as his hand tightened around your throat.

He let go of you, dipping you against the mattress again as his fist knotted in your hair. He steadied himself, leaning on one of his arms beside your head. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as he thrusted into you at an ungodly pace, lips hovering beside your ear as he grunted your name and how good you felt.

You pushed your hips up against him turning your head enough that he pressed his lips against yours, the vibrations from his moans sending heat throughout your body. Clay’s tongue slipped into your mouth roughly, tasting your whimpers and lust. His teeth dragged against your lip as you felt him throb inside of you.

He pushed your shoulder back, moving you on your side as your leg curled around. At the new angle, he could drive himself deeper into you; dark green eyes focused on yours as his warmed breath cascaded over your chest. His hand moved to your jaw, running his thumb against your burning lips as his sights were almost hungrily looking upon you. Your breathing became shallow as he smirked at you, moving his hand to your throat again.

He leaned down, slowing his pace to drag in and out of you as his lips were close to your ear. He applied pressure, your breath hitching in your throat. “So pretty. Good girl, taking me so well,” he praised, making you moan as he kissed you again before speeding up his thrusts. You moaned out his name again, finishing as your eyes fluttered shut. He chuckled darkly, pounding into you harder. “Fuck,” he hissed, lips pressing to the skin behind your ears, digging his face into your hair as he chased his high.

He exhaled, breath blanketing your skin before he kissed your shoulder, cheek, and finally your lips in a quiet appraisal. You pulled him into the spot beside you. He ran his fingers through his hair as you curled against his side, his other hand brushing softly against your arm. You knotted your fingers with his, brushing your thumb against where your faded number rested. “Didn’t you just break a rib?” You asked, finally noticing the slide bruising on his side.

Clay chuckled softly. “Yeah, I think I was running on adrenaline until a second ago,” he groaned.

Dream Tag List: (to join, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake

[introloves]

@virgoamajiki: hhnngggg no thoughts just boxer!bokuto fucking you senseless after seeing the other boxer he was supposed to fight that night flirting w/ u just to rile him up and throw him off his game.

— soft dom! bokuto + boxer! bokuto + mentions of harassment in the beginning + overstimulation / dumbification + size kink + comfort + praise + breath play + squirting + fluffy end + bokuto calls reader ‘puppy’ + f! reader

— word count; approx 2.6k

— part of my boxerverse! bokuto: one shot no. 1

he can’t blink back the images of you during the fight. the near deafening roars of his name all fadded into nothingness as he stalked towards his opponent- bokuto was dead set on putting him down.

the prick had really managed to get under his skin at the weigh in, picking you out- pointing directly at you and asking why you didn’t hop on over, he said you’d be better taken care of.

you’d sat there, wide eyed, clearly scared and taken back by his words. you only spared him a glance. instead turning with wide eyes at your boyfriend, now scared for the other man. frantic eyes shot up to look for his own- it was clear what you wanted, you looked scared and your face held a look that said;

“bo, please don’t.”

and usually, that look would disarm him completely- but not now- not now when he can see the way your eyes watered and lips trembled at the words.

he is sorry for not looking at you right away, sorry for not giving you the comfort you need-

but he’s not sorry for lunging over to the other side, barreling straight past staff that looked minuscule compared to his towering form. microphones clashing onto the floor with clear intent.

it’s complete chaos, bokutos manager grabbing him, holding him back down onto the seat, hissing in his ear that he’ll have a chance to go at him, “in the ring.”

you sit, dazed by the clamor and rapid snapping of cameras that bathe the two of you like a shower of pure light.

but he sits back down, hand clamped over your thigh, squeezing you, using your body as a stress ball. he can’t even look at his opponent, amber eyes focused on nothing more than your trembling knee- koutarou truly thinks he might kill him.

-

when he finally enters the ring, it doesn’t take long for the bastard to get dropped. its almost comical how short the match ends— usually bokuto would have put a little more show into it, letting him take a couple of hits before handling it, dragging it out to fluff his ego, showing everyone that he was the king, but not now.

as soon as his opponent is down, spread out on the white canvas- he steps once towards the body— pushed away by the referee in panic with the way he looms over him a little longer than necessary. the referee looking over at his teams side, shoving him back into his corner before calling the end of the match.

he lets his body get shoved into his corner, scoffing at the way the man lays there... pathetic.

bokuto doesnt even react to the roars of the crowd- walks past his team and into the locker rooms.

it feels like it takes forever to get back to you, normally you’d be at the ringside, but for this round he didn’t want you there and you not being able to do that, especially for a fight like this has you on edge. waiting for your koutarou to come home. the tension is almost suffocating when you finally hear the door slam closed.

you know hes not mad at you, thats not who the shake of the house is directed at. bokuto has always been a gentle giant with you— an overexcited, loving, and sweet giant.

he walks straight into the room, tugging off his shirt, shorts, leaving a trail of clothes as he makes a beeline right to you. there’s a deep want, need to have you, it feels like someone’s pressing down onto his chest- a tight ball of... anger and fear swirling around there.

it softens when he see’s you though, cuddled up on the bed, eyes lidded as you smile at him, welcoming him home. when he touches you, your body still warm from an almost sleep, he feels the sharp edges of anger melt away. there was no need for him to angry or scared at the words his opponent had thrown your way- he wasn’t the one about to fuck you to sleep... but the small tingle of fear and anger didn’t leave him completely.

“baby.” you murmur, hands outstretched to bring him into your space, the big body of his instantly melting down to your form, elbows perched on either side of your head- trapping you completely in.

“saw you drop him... first round.” voice heavy with lust and want, he was so strong and powerful and all yours. legs drop down onto the bed to let him in, ready for him, waiting for him.

“yeah, had to.” bokuto responds back, whispering it against your lips before he kisses you, licking into your mouth with heavy strokes of his tongue, all but tracing his name onto the front of your teeth.

“he scared you didnt he?” he growls, hissing at the way your heat wiggles to find his cock. bokuto shifts to hold the weight of his upper body on just one arm, slipping a hand down to tug your bottoms off.

“mhm.” you whimper back, gripping onto his shoulders, body jerking with every pull.

“did you see how i took care of him, pretty thing?” kou spits, pulse quickening at the wetness that meets his knuckle, trailing the back of his hand up your cunt before slipping a finger against your folds, splitting them open to briefly glance at your exposed pussy.

“fuck- course you did, thats why you’re so wet, huh?”

you cant really say anything, because he was right- seeing him knock that man out with one punch, straight to the jaw, sent heat flooding through your veins, proof of it formed in the shape of pure slick painting the outside of your cunt, between your thighs, pooling in your bottoms. its kinda silly, he knows what he does to you, knows you love watching him in his element, eyes hardened and face laxed in total concentration and an air of cockiness to him when he steps in the ring. he knows you love it, cause you’re always drooling into your panties when he comes to you after a match.

“real wet.” he marvels once more, sinking a finger all the way down to the knuckle and all you can do in response is open your legs wider, tilting yourself up to show him how ready and receptive you were for him.

“good girl.” his voice is tight and low- something like a growl with the way you move against his one finger. its enough to snap the string of self restraint he had, pure unbridled energy bouncing off him as he departs from you- just for a second, to kiss you harshly.

its a mix of tongue, spit, and teeth- strings of your passion still hanging from between the two as he leans back to look at your form, wiggling around in need of him.

its okay, he thinks, he’ll give you what you want.

and he does, doesn’t take long for him to grab the base of his thick and heavy cock, letting it slap against your cunt a couple times before squeezing the head of him inside- nice and snug. it makes him lightheaded, he cant think of anything but you- a fever crawls up his sculpted back, a need to just sink in and fuck you silly, but he wants something from you first.

“who do you belong to puppy?” he inquires gruffly, not moving an inch, watching the way you blink up at him through tears.

“w-what?” its sudden, your sweet and kind bo almost never talked like this in bed, it makes you salivate, a heat flushing down your back.

“c’mon- tell me who you belong to.” he hisses once more, splaying one of his big, strong, veiny hands across your chest, pushing down- locking you against the bed.

he still hasn’t moved, and the fluttering of your pussy down on the head of his dick makes him grunt- muscled stomach tensing with each one. he comes back to you- a little softer in the way his words sound, carrying that sweetness you know and love.

“please, tell me you’re mine.” he whispers, moving the hand that had you pinned down up towards your neck, rough callouses rubbing against the soft and sensitive skin there.

its a juxtaposition of kind, vulnerable words mixing in with the harsher movements of his strong hand curling against your airway, frantic in the need to hear it from you.

you know what he needs, and you’re more than happy to comply, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. your hand moves up to wrap around his wrist, pulling him in close, eyes burning with hot tears forming there at the lack of blood- but you continue, till the next words are all but hissed, high and tight.

“yours, i’m all yours koutarou, my king.”

there isn’t anything he could have done to prepare for that, he stutters, chokes on the lust heavy in his chest, he feels like there’s molten want dripping down his veins- swirling into a tight ball at the pit of his stomach.

all he can do is rear back, hips lifting off you, popping the head of him out and you nearly whine, nearly ask him whats wrong before he slams down in one hard and desperate stroke, catching the skin of your cunt harshly, but its okay- there would have been no way you’d survive in a relationship with him if you didn’t like a little pain.

when his hips make contact with your cunt, puffy lips giving him cushion- he grinds down, smashing your clit down against his pubes.

eyes shut tight, a choked sob tumbling from your lips in response, head teetering back onto the bed.

“koutarou! fuck! fuck!” words high and staccato-ed are echoed out into the room, he feeds off the broken syllables of his name tumbling from your lips.

he looks at you while he squeezes his fingers against the thrum of your quickened pulse underneath his hand- watching your eyes roll back, the whites of them on clear display as lips part, a silent scream painted onto the moments of your face-

the bed groans, creaks with each crushing thrust he gives you, drilling you down into the bed.

“keep saying my name puppy, keep saying it.” he grunts looking at you with a feverish and concentrated gaze, affected in how well you stroke his ego, chest feeling incredibly full, the prickle of his orgasm starts, but there was /no/ way he’d come before his baby.

the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat sweeps down your arching body until his thumb finds your twitching clit- immediately pressing down on it with enough force that his thumb turns white. it rips a scream straight from the center of your chest and your body starts seizing up.

he huffs out a laugh when he sees the way your hips cant up off the bedding- it nearly pushes him back, but he stays unwavering, following the movement of your spasming body.

“koutarou!” his name leaves your mouth in the form of a wail while he batters your cunt, you don’t even know you’re moving the way you are- hands falling to rest pitifully against your head.

“ah- that’s my girl.” bokuto beams, seeing the splash of your cum arch all the way up to hit his tummy- abs glistening with every contraction as his hips drill into you- he gives in, taking the thumb that had been squeezing your clit down onto your body and sticking it into his mouth, watching you with lidded eyes as he licks the cum off his hand, all while keeping your neck pinned down and chasing the frantic movements of your hips.

there’s no immediate reaction from you when he picks up your legs- weak with the strain you’ve put them under, and folds them up to your chest.

the only thing you do is intake a lungful of air, dazed eyes looking up at him- not knowing how he got so close to your face.

it’s the first slap of his heavy balls against your ass that makes you come back from it all-

“p-please!!” you cry, eyes wide. the force of him still pistoning into you makes your body bounce off the shaking bed, and thanks to the squirting orgasm he fucked out of you with his thick cock- building a near searing sensitivity into the walls of your cunt and clit, you cum once more. it’s the final break into a headspace that has you twitch and flail your legs, wiggling against the hold of his arms.

“yeah- good girl.” bokuto grits out, a bead of sweat drips off his face onto your own, and thankfully- it’s what he needs to cum. his eyes are frantic as he watches you- swollen lips, face turned relaxed as you squeeze down around him, looking like the image of fucked stupid.

with the a final resounding smack of his hips into you, his cock jumps, swelling, growing snug inside you before he dumps an almost obscene amount of cum into you.

small twitches of your body lets him know you feel it, his head falls down to land against your chest, keeping you folded as he grits his teeth.

it takes rapid, hard blinks of his eyes to not let tears fall down onto his face. he’s shaky as he finally sits back up, making sure to bring your thighs down gently.

“kou-“ you choke out, looking for him-

he responds by finding your limp hands, still lying up by your head- slotting thick fingers and broad hands into your own.

“‘m right here.” koutarou nearly wheezes out, still reeling from an orgasm that he can still feel.

“that felt good.” your voice is airy and sweet- pitchy and laced with love.

for the second time that night- he laughs, shaking his head while he slips his softened cock out of you.

he picks you up, scooping your trembling form into swollen muscles- keeping you nice and tight against a hard torso.

“you make me feel good.” he whispers into your hair, not caring about the trail of hot cum that leaks out of your fucked out cunt, trails of it running down his leg while he places you on his chest, laying the both of you down.

holding you tight like this, sweat mingling together, residue of cum and tears painting eachothers bodies- he knows there was nothing he should have ever been worried about.

he didn’t have to worry about protecting or loosing you- bodies intertwined, locked into one another proved that you took care of him, gentle hands tracing your name onto the skin of his chest.

“i’m all yours koutarou.” you whisper, nearly falling into the heaviness of sleep.

he once again blinks back the need to cry- he could take all the punches in the world, not even blink, but he was so weak for you.

“yeah... i’m all yours too.” his voice is tender, shaky with emotion, arms squeezing around you tight.

he really was.

[wilmabyers]

The Fruity Four- Steve x Robin x Eddie x Reader

Story Summary: Steve, Eddie, Robin and you have become incredibly close after saving your brother from the upside down in the Spring of ‘86.(Re-write of S4. Same Characters. No Vecna) As you try to enjoy having a normal life again this Summer, you end up finding yourselves in a poly-amorous relationship.

Warnings 18+ only, penetrative sex, rough sex,

Part One

Part Two: Wet Confessions

I waited outside in the cold for a few minutes before I heard the screeching of the tires on Eddie's van. I turned to see him make the turn onto my street like a bat out of hell. I knew it drove my neighbors crazy, but it drove me crazy too in a totally different way. Just knowing I was about to be in his presence did something to my body. My heart rate started to pick up and little butterflies started to form in the pit of my stomach.

If you would have told me 5 months ago that I would be dating Eddie Munson, I would have laughed my ass off then spit in your face. I couldn't stand Eddie when I first met him. I thought he was an arrogant,  immature asshole. I have a short fuse but it's like he had the manual on how to push every one of my buttons and he loved riling me up. Now he presses all the right buttons, if you know what I mean. It was a very rocky start, to say the least. If it wasn't for him getting wrapped up in all the shit that happened with my family, I would have never had the opportunity to see who he really was underneath it all. We used to bring out the worst in each other but now our love brings out the best versions of our selves.

He stopped abruptly in front of me with another high pitched screech and announced out the rolled down window, "Your chariot awaits M'lady".

He reached over to open the door for me. I immediately get hit with the smell of weed, sweat and that musky smell unique to Eddie. Once I smell that combo and see those deep brown eyes bearing into my soul, I melt. Like a magnet pulled to him, I jump in, slide over the bench seat and pull him by the collar of his denim vest, pressing my lips to his firmly. He instantly grabs the loops of my jeans and slams me against him so my body is flush to his and kisses me back, matching my intensity. I bite his bottom lip hard, like I know he likes it, then suck it into my mouth. He releases a soft moan then backs away.

"Hey, tiger, you keep that up, we're never getting to that party." he says with that menacing look in his eye that leaves me weak. I scoot over to my seat. Out of breath, heart still pounding, I manage to put my seat-belt on.

"Oh, that's right. We can't miss your boyfriend's party."

He starts driving with one hand and reaches the other one over to grab my thigh dangerously close to my core. I’m already starting to feel wet but I can’t pull away. The firmness he holds me with, the warmth and size of his hands, the juxtaposition of the sharp, cold rings against my skin through the rip of my jeans ....it all made my brain feel hazy.

"You used to bitch and moan about how me and Harrington need to get over our caveman bull-shit and be friends and now that we are, you don't like it. There's no pleasing you," he crooned playfully. He started to walk his fingers up higher. I slapped his hand away reflexively and he looked over wide eyed as a sly smile formed across his face.

"Eyes on the road, Ed" I snapped at him and looked out my window, hoping he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s affecting me.

"Shit," he cursed as he swerved to avoid hitting the curb. I cackled.

"Don't distract me if you want to get there in one piece"

"Or you could just get better at multi-tasking."

Our normal playful bickering continued and I was finally able to get my body under control. He eventually blasted some Dio and we sang at the top of our lungs together, stealing smiles and touches. We managed to get to Steve’s without running into a tree.

--

The party started out incredibly awkward. I could tell Robin was in a shit mood because Vickie bailed. A part of me wondered if her absence was somehow my fault.

Mindy and her cousin, Beth, were the worst. Steve really did know how to pick them. I tried my best to entertain her all by myself while Eddie and Robin talked about the next campaign he was planning. It took a lot of convincing but I finally got Robin to join our D&D party. With Steve and Eddie’s growing bromance, I’m sure we’ll persuade him to join next.

I tried to keep Beth busy the only way I could think of. Passing her drink after drink in hopes she would stop droning on and on about Gods knows what. She was so boring that my brain kept checking out. Jokes on me though, because apparently she can’t hold her liquor. After shot-gunning a beer ,she ended up puking everywhere. I narrowly avoided her spewing on my face as she unloaded on my fucking hellfire shirt.

I immediately ran to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I peeled off my shirt, then turned on the shower so I could use the fancy Harrington detachable shower-head to get the little bit that got in my hair.

Eddie barged in, looking wide-eyed and worried until he dragged his eyes down to my bra causing them to turn wide-eyed and lustful. He quickly shut the door and locked it. He inched closer while watching me as I tried to twist my head as to not get the rest of my clothes wet and failing miserably. He shook his head as if waking up from whatever dirty fantasy he was cooking up in his head.

"Here, babe, let me help you" he grabbed the handle so I could comfortably sit on my knees and bend over while he rinse out the vomit.

I looked up at him and saw him eyeing my completely ruined shirt on the floor when he caught my gaze. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

"She really got you good, huh?" Then he busted out laughing.

"You're such a dick, Eddie!" I shouted while glaring at him. That just made him laugh harder so I grabbed the handle and sprayed him right in the face. He grabbed my wrist and turned it back on me when we heard a banging on the door.

"You guys better not be making a mess in there, I already have puke to wash out of the couch cushions! Great job being a wing-woman, y/n" Steve’s words were dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. Much like my entire body was now drenched in water. So much for the fancy detachable shower-head short-cut.

"We're not, dude. Chill!" he yelled, fighting laughter. I started to laugh too and he quickly covered my mouth. “We’ll be out in a bit!”.

I reached behind me to turn the shower off and Eddie handed me a towel. We heard Steve angrily stomp off and I bit his hand.

"Ouch!" he yelped as he grabbed my hips and pulled me against him, making the towel drop out of my hand. He stared down at me with a devilish look in his eye and I felt the hard length in his jeans press against my leg.

"Eddie, I’m trying to dry off."

"I like it better when you're all wet though," he said while looking down at the spare beads of water dripping down my breasts. My white bra was now completely see-through and my hard nipples were on display.

“I wonder where else you’re wet..” he says while starting to trail his hand toward the button of my jeans.

I stopped his hand with mine and said " I have to get back out there. Robin will kill me if I leave her alone to deal with that mess. She's already in a mood about Vickie"

He didn’t distance himself or loosen his grip on me. He just looked back into my eyes and started to absently playing with my hair before responding breathlessly" Why did Vickie bail? They get in a fight again or something?"

" Um, maybe. I'm not sure. We should get back out there." I turned my head and tried to get out of his grasp but he grabbed my hand.

"Hey, look at me please." The softness in his voice made my stomach stir. I can't lie to him. I stopped and turned to look up at him.

"There's something I haven't told you.."

His eyes grew worried and serious. He was silent for a few beats. I saw him take a breathe and he let out a shaky laugh "You're kinda starting to scare me, y/n. Spit it out already?"

"It's not that bad but I'm still worried you might get upset." He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bath but held my gaze. I could tell he was feeling concerned for me and the wheels were turning in his head.

He started rubbing his thumb on the palm of my hand soothingly "Just tell me, baby. I’m sure it will be fine."

The tension in my stomach started to ease at his sweetness and I knelt down to be at his level.

"Last Friday, Robin and I..." ,I couldn’t take his intense gaze anymore so I looked down as I finished "made..out. A little." I peered up and saw him look shocked for a second.

"You made out with Robin?" he asked. The question was laced with surprise but no hint of anger.

"Yes."

He looked away for a second before resting his elbow on his knee ,propping his chin up. He looked back at me with a slight smile and raised eyebrow "Like with tongue and everything?"

"Eddie!" I shoved him playfully but I did it a little too hard on accident knocking him into the bath and pulling the curtain and rod down with him. I quickly got up and pulled the curtain and rod off of Eddie. I put my hand out to pull him up but he just pulled me on top of him. We both started laughing uncontrollably as I found myself straddling him on the bathtub floor. He looked into my eyes with this pensive, soft look and started to run his finger along my arm causing chills to prickle my skin. I ran my hands up his stomach, then over his chest reveling in the feel of his hard muscles under his shirt. He wasn’t ripped by any means. He spent more time meticulously planning his campaigns and shredding on the guitar than doing any sort of exercise but that’s what I loved about him. He lived his life with passion and reckless abandon, not giving two shits about his appearance or society’s limited standards. His body was perfect to me.

He moved those beautiful, chocolate orbs back up to meet mine as I planted one hand on his chest and rose the other to move some stray hairs out of his face.

"You're not mad at me then?"

"No" he scoffed like I asked him the most stupid question on the planet. He pecked my hand still lingering in his curly locks. He softly grazed my cheek with a finger and I felt the coolness of one of his rings causing me to shiver.

He noticed my reaction, raised an eyebrow and gave a crooked smile as he said "If anything.." He trails off, taking his hand and sliding it down my side, his eyes following its path to grab my hip and pulling his other hand to grip the other side before looking back into my eyes and continues "I’m actually incredibly turned on by the vision of you two tangling tongues" he says as he wiggles his tongue out mockingly.

I roll my eyes and we both laugh.

He closes his eyes tightly, “I can see you two right now..”

There’s a banging on the door again.

"Are you guys boning in there?” Steve’s voice booms through the door.

“No!” we both yell in unison.

"Oh, that’s believable. Just clean up when you're done, you animals."

[icedflames]

The Progression of Elain and Azriel’s Relationship.

Let me preface this by saying this is LONG. 

After a second read through of ACOSF, I really think it’s clear that Elriel will be featured in the next book. Sooo, book by book, I’ve complied excerpts that show the progression of Elain and Azriel’s relationship and why I think the next book will feature them. I’m not going to be adding a lot of commentary, just my general interpretation of the scene. The excerpts speak for themselves. 

A Court of Mist and Fury

Chapter 24 - Elain meets Azriel at the Archeron Estate

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

“Elain said, ‘It’s all very disorienting.’ ‘I can imagine,’ Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.”

“Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, ‘Can you truly fly?’ He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, ‘Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.’‘That’s very beautiful,’ she said. ‘Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?’ ‘It is sometimes,’ Azriel said.”

“Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.”

At their first meeting, Azriel’s attention was on Elain and she labeled the idea of the Illyrian’s flight as beautiful. Feyre notes how Elain and Azriel are similar and says they are “perhaps the only two civilized ones.” Polite and kind. 

Feyre notes that Elain’s shoulders loosened when Azriel offered her a polite smile and after noticing Azriel relax, she offers a grin. Azriel probably noticed Elain’s discomfort because of her fingers tightly grasping the fork and tried to put her at ease. In return, Elain felt relaxed based on Azriel’s cues even though they had just met. 

Chapter 50 - Feyre distracts Rhys by talking about her sisters

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet. I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together. If the warrior ever stopped quietly loving Mor. I doubted it. Azriel would likely love Mor until he was a whisper of darkness between the stars.”

Feyre again notes their similar temperaments - how they are both introverted and would appreciate each other’s company in silence. The second part, about Azriel loving Mor forever, now sticks out given what we know from A Court of Silver Flames. I’ll get to that later. 

A Court of Wings and Ruin

So at this point, Elain and Nesta have been forcibly turned fae against their will. I didn’t include that portion because it’s more relevant to Elain’s self-journey, rather than her relationship with Azriel. 

Chapter 24 - Nesta and Elain move to the townhouse

“Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders. He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door.

Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. ‘Would you like me to show you the garden?’ She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once.

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

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

Elain is traumatized from her experience with the cauldron. She’s withdrawn, she’s quiet, and she’s scared. Azriel carries hers through the front door, rather than just setting her down outside. To make her more comfortable with the house, he offers to show her the garden. Feyre likely made mention of Elain loving flowers so this was a sweet gesture on Azriel’s part. 

Most significantly, Elain (likely) called Azriel’s scarred skin beautiful - his trauma ingrained into his skin and the history of his abuse... She sees it and calls it beautiful. And Azriel blushes. 

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him. ‘Relax,’ Rhys said. ‘Azriel isn’t the ravishing type.’ Lucien cut him a glare.”

Oh Rhys, Azriel definitely is. 

I thought it was interesting. Yes, mates become possessive. But why include that? Why wouldn’t Lucien snarl when Elain was with Rhys or Cassian? Just a thought. 

“Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.”

I really love the juxtaposition of Azriel clad in black, sprawled in the gardens with Elain, so full of light, sitting there with them. It’s unlikely that the morally grey spymaster (who literally tortures people for his profession) and the sweet girl would have struck up a friendship. But there they were, in the garden, enjoying each other’s silent company. Exactly what Feyre predicted in A Court of Mist and Fury (“Elain would probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet”). 

“‘Why not make them mates?’ I mused. ‘Why Lucien?[...]What decides it? Who decides it?[...]You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.’ I peeled off my dressing robe. ‘So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if’—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?’

‘A mating bond can be rejected,’ Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. ‘There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly sometimes the bond is nothing more than some...preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that.’”

The conversation between her and Rhys is very important. Up until this point, we’re led to believe mates are the end all be all. Mates are soulmates. Now, we have a scene directly suggesting that the mating system is flawed and a mating bond could be broken. And it’s Feyre talking about Elain and Lucien’s bond, using Azriel as an example as who Elain might choose over Lucien. 

At this point, Elain and Azriel’s relationship starts to progress and they slowly start to become acquainted with each other. 

Chapter 27 - Elain has a vision

“‘I saw young hands wither with age. I saw a box of black stone. I saw a feather of fire land on snow and melt it.’”

“Mad. Elain might very well have gone mad.”

So here, Elain spouts a vision and Feyre, Nesta, Mor, and Azriel are taken aback. Feyre remarks that her sister may be going mad. They don’t understand what’s going on with Elain and why she is espousing such creepy things. 

“I faced Azriel, exposing my palms to him. ‘What does that mean?’ Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.”

Azriel had an expression of concerned and then winnowed away without a word, leaving Mor gaping. Why? Why was she gaping and staring at the spot Azriel had been? Could it be that she sees something Feyre doesn’t?

Chapter 30 - Azriel and Cassian visit Elain and Nesta

“The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink. Both males went a bit still.”

We know that Nesta and Cassian are mates. Cassian stilled at the sight of Nesta. Azriel stilled at the sight of Elain. Hmm.

“I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. ‘Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.’ ‘I can help her,’ said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing from his fingers as he extended a hand.”

Azriel stepped in and said he could help Elain get to the garden. A bit of a pattern. He wants to keep her company, and perhaps, wants to have her company. Even more significant are that his shadows are missing. We know that the shadows disappear around Mor, who he’d been pining over for 500 years. Now they’re gone around Elain. Maybe it’s just to make her more comfortable or maybe it’s because he’s developing an interest in her. 

Chapter 32 - Azriel discovers Elain is a seer

“Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. ‘The queen—with the feathers of flame.’ The shadowsinger angled his head. Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, ‘Should we—does she need …?’”

‘She doesn’t need anything,’ Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly.

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

Azriel, as observant as he is, realized Elain wasn’t going mad. She was a seer.

Lucien thought she was going mad or she was ill. As did Feyre, Mor, Nesta and everybody else in the Night Court. This is mentioned in prior chapters when Lucien suggested to Feyre that Elain see a healer. 

However, Azriel looked at Elain and figured it out. Which is important to Elain. When speaking to Lucien about Grayson, Elain said, “No one ever looked - not really...He did. He saw me. He will not now.” Azriel looked. Azriel saw her. 

Chapter 50 - In the townhouse, winnowing to the Illyrian Camps

“Mor took Nesta and Cassian by the hand, readying to winnow them to the camp, while shadows gathered around Azriel, Elain at his side, wide-eyed at the spymaster’s display.”

Azriel’s shadows are gathered around him, likely in response to brewing war and because Feyre just made a deal with Bryaxis. Elain is staring wide-eyed. I don’t interpret this in fear but in awe. 

“Then Azriel, gently taking Elain’s hand in his own, as if afraid his scars would hurt her.”

The gentleness Azriel exhibits towards Elain is just sweet.

Chapter 62 & 63 - Hyburn kidnaps Elain

“But Azriel asked softly, ‘What about Elain?’ Something cold went through me. Nesta was just staring at Azriel. Staring and staring.”

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

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

Nesta said, ‘Then you will die.’

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

Azriel is the first person to realize Elain is missing! Not Nesta, not Feyre, not Amren. Azriel.

His eyes glowed (an indication of powers at play), with rage in his stare. Azriel is angry, he’s upset, he will get Elain back. Nobody asked Azriel to rescue Elain. Nesta even told him he would die. But Azriel doesn’t care. He’s getting her back. 

This really shows that perhaps their friendship developed further than Feyre realized and Azriel had formed a connection with Elain. A connection strong enough that he would risk dying to get her back.

Chapter 65 - Azriel and Feyre rescue Elain

“My mouth went dry as that scream sounded again. I couldn’t bear it—to let it go on, to see what was being done. Azriel’s shadow-hand grasped my own, tugging me closer. His rage rippled off his invisible form.”

Feyre and Azriel both thought it was Elain screaming in Hyburn’s camp. Rage was rippling off his invisible form. Azriel, stoic, brooding Azriel is so angry because he thinks Elain is being hurt that Feyre remarks on it. 

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

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. ‘You came for me.’ 

The shadowsinger only inclined his head.”

Again, Azriel is so gentle with Elain. 

Elain devoured the sight of him. Elain didn’t believe Azriel would save her. But he did. “You came for me.” 

“The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest.”

“Nesta rounded a tent, skidding to a halt in the mud. She let out a sob at the sight of Elain, still in Azriel’s arms.”

“Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, ‘We need Helion to get these chains off her.’ Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.”

Azriel is wounded but he’s still cradling Elain to his chest. He doesn’t have to but he doesn’t let go. Almost like if he goes, she’ll disappear again. And then Elain kisses his cheek? Too cute. 

Chapter 69 - Truthteller

“Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. ‘This is Truth-Teller,’ he told her softly. ‘I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.’”

Azriel is still injured and was being stubborn in wanting to fight, despite Rhys telling him he couldn’t. Azriel didn’t relent until Mor begged him with tears in her eyes. Since he can’t fight, he’s offering Elain one of his knives... 

“Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. ‘It has never failed me once,’ the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. ‘Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.’ He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. ‘It will serve you well.’”

Again with the gentleness.

“Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade. Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

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

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

So Azriel didn’t offer Elain just any knife. It’s Azriel’s most prized possession to the point where no other person, not even his brothers or Mor, had ever been allowed to touch it. Yet here he was lending it to Elain. His relationship and connection to Elain is strong enough and deep enough that he would give her his beloved dagger.

Here’s where it gets interesting. The lovely fawn standing before death. In ACOMAF chapter 57, the Book of Breathlings said (in pertinent part), “Rot and bloom and bones...Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn.” I think the choice of words is intentional. Death and a fawn? Hmm.

Further, when Majda described the mating bond to Elain she said, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.” Now Feyre says - the only bridge of connection is Truth-Teller. Why use the words describing a mating bond to describe that moment?

Chapter 74 - Elain Kills Hyburn

“Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, ‘Don’t you touch my sister.’”

Elain, using Azriel’s dagger, stabbed Hyburn in the neck. The trembling fawn snarled in the king’s ear and killed him to protect Nesta. 

Stepping out the shadow seems like a significant parallel. In Chapter 62, “Azriel stepped out of a shadow.” Azriel’s symbol is the shadow. Elain stepped from a shadow, Azriel’s symbol, and exhibited a display of strength, despite being traumatized for most of the book...

A Court of Frost and Starlight

Chapter 2 - Rhysand thinks about the War

“Cassian was near death and Nesta was sprawled over him, shielding him from that killing blow, and Elain—Elain—had taken up Azriel’s dagger and killed the King of Hybern instead.”

Elain, of all people, killed Hyburn with Azriel’s dagger and that imagine is important enough for Rhysand to think of it again. 

Chapter 4 - Feyre asks Mor about Truth-Teller when gift shopping

“‘You honestly think he’d ever give up Truth-Teller?’

‘He gave it to Elain,’ Mor said, admiring a moonstone necklace in the counter’s glass case. 

‘She gave it back,’ I amended, failing to block out the image of the black blade piercing through the King of Hybern’s throat. But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back.”

Just as Azriel had pressed the knife into Elain’s hand, Elain pressed it into his when she finished. Gently. 

Chapter 7 - Rhys and Azriel discuss gifts

“‘Az ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘Are we …’ Unusual for him to stumble with words. ‘Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?’ 

‘No,’ I said, and meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief. Seemed to, since all but a breath of air passed from his lips”

Interesting how Azriel is stumbling over his words when he asks if he needs to get Elain (and Nesta) a gift. What could be making him so nervous to give her a gift? A crush, maybe?

Chapter 12 - The Inner Circle has a Family Dinner

“Elain’s voice was colder than usual. I glanced at Nuala and Cerridwen, the latter giving me a shake of her head as if to say, Not a good day for her.”

Elain has befriended Azriel’s spies to the point where they tell Feyre, Elain’s sister, that it’s not a good day. 

“‘Don’t,’ Elain said flatly, starting once more into a walk, veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes in her hands, as if they were Azriel’s shadows.”

Interesting choice of words. 

“Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.”

Handsome Azriel walks in and Elain goes still. Her throat bobs. Elain is totally crushing on Azriel.

“But I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, ‘Hello.’ Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me.”

Why would Mor tense up (again)? 

“But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, ‘Sit. I’ll take care of it.’ Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. ‘I—I’ll be right back,’ she murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she should just sit.”

Elain was so shocked that she kept her hands up and then ran off to make herself look presentable. She has it bad.

“One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. ‘Wait,’ Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice. Mor gaped wide enough that I was certain the half-chewed green beans in her mouth were going to tumble onto her plate.”

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

Azriel telling Cassian to wait for Elain to come back before they started eating. How sweet! And again, Mor tenses, gapes, etc. because of Azriel and Elain. Why does she keep doing that? Is it because Azriel is maybe moving on? Is she jealous? Or is it something else? 

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

She got all fixed up. Aweee.

“‘I’d feel bad for the mice,’ Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel and a grateful smile from Elain—and no shortage of scowling from Amren. But something in me eased at that laughter, at the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.”

After Amren bluntly told Elain that there was no going back to being human and Elain was visibly upset, Azriel told a joke to lighten the mood. Elain shot a grateful smile and Feyre’s was so happy to see a light return to her sister’s eyes.

Chapter 16 - Rhys speaks to Cassian and Azriel

“Azriel strode to the lone window at the end of the room and peered into the garden below.”

Who could be in the garden Azriel? 

Chapter 18 - Feyre and Elain talk about Lucien

“‘He brought you a present.’

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. ‘And that entitles him to my time, my affections?’

‘No.’ I blinked. ‘But he is a good male.’ Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. ‘He cares for you.’

‘He doesn’t know me.’

‘You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.’ 

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. ‘I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.’

Elain is mad. She doesn’t want a mate or a male. Yet some bond is forcing him on her. She doesn’t want Lucien. A gift isn’t enough to win her over. 

More importantly - he doesn’t know her. 

Chapter 19 - Winter Solstice 

“I made to move toward [Elain], but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s—the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly.”

Azriel immediately made a move towards Elain to wish her a happy solstice. Again with the gentleness. 

“Watching Cassian especially, now standing with Az at the fire. He was the portrait of relaxed, an arm braced against the carved mantel, his wings tucked in loosely, a faint grin on his face and a glass of wine in his hand. He slid his hazel eyes toward my sister without him moving an inch.”

Azriel stealing glances at Elain.

“‘Oh, that’s from me.’

Azriel’s face didn’t so much as shift at the words. Not even a smile as he opened the present and revealed -

‘I had Madja make it for me,’ Elain explained. Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. ‘It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.’

Silence.

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

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”

Elain give Azriel a sweet, thoughtful, and funny gift that made Azriel laugh so deep and joyously. That rarely happens with him.

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

Feyre had never seen Azriel’s eyes so bright. Ahhhh. 

They’re most definitely friends by this point, with the other chapters hinting that the two are crushing on each other. 

Chapter 22 - After the gift giving

“Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea.”

Elain and Azriel stay behind, late at night talking about gardening. Even if it’s not of interest to Azriel, he wanted to be with her. So sweet! 

A Court of Silver Flames

Chapter 3 - Cassian tells Nesta that Azriel will be staying with them 

“Cassian said tightly, ‘He says he’d rather stay up here than at the river house.’ That made two of them. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. He’s Az. He likes his space.’”

Alright so let me start by saying Cassian isn’t as observant. And the readers have more insight. Who stays at the river house? Elain. Why would he want to stay at the house of wind? To avoid her. Why would he want to avoid Elain? Probably because he’s developing feelings for her. 

Chapter 19 - Cassian tells Azriel about Elain and Nesta’s fight

“‘Because of the shit with Elain?’

Azriel stilled. ‘What happened to Elain?’

Azriel stilled at the thought of something happening to Elain. Honestly, enough said. 

Chapter 21 - Nesta insults Elain

“‘Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.’

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

Azriel’s shadows were prepared to attack in defense of Elain. Sounds like somebody has feelings for Elain...

Chapter 22 - Azriel and Cassian discuss having children

“Cassian looked over at Az. ‘You think you’ll ever be ready for one?’ Ever be ready to confess to Mor what’s in your heart?

‘I don’t know,’ Azriel said.

‘Do you want a child?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I want.’ Distant words—ones that prevented Cassian from prying further.”

So Cassian still thinks Azriel is head over heels in love with Mor. And Azriel responds with distant words, saying it doesn’t matter what he wants. Could what he wants be Elain? The seer whose mate happens to be the son of a high lord? 

He could understandably be hurt over that. 

“He was still happy to be Mor’s buffer with Azriel, but there’d been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel … those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he’d given up. After five hundred years, he’d somehow given up. Cassian couldn’t think why.”

Azriel rarely looks at Mor. There’s been a change. And Cassian has no idea why, after 500 years, Azriel has finally given up. 

Elain. Elain is the reason. 

Chapter 29 - Amren suggests Elain should look for the trove

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

Azriel doesn’t want Elain to be exposed to that darkness. He’s acting protective over her. Like he really cares for her. 

Chapter 30 - Azriel and Cassian discuss Feyre’s pregnancy

“‘No. But we need to summon Lucien,’ Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit.”

Why wouldn’t Azriel want to summon Lucien? Perhaps he doesn’t want anything to develop between Lucien and his mate, Elain? 

He’s jealous. 

Chapter 44 - Elain tells the story of how Nesta stole a Duke’s heart

“‘She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two,’ she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel. Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.”

Elain is shy around Azriel, and quickly looks away from his smile. Sounds like a crush. 

Chapter 58 - Winter Solstice 

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.”

Elain is stealthy, quiet. So much so that Nesta remarks that Azriel or his spies himself may be giving her lessons.

“Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

‘I was just checking on dessert,’ Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past...”

Azriel heard Elain’s laugh and wanted to see what caused it. 

They looked at each other and Elain’s breath caught - something charged in that gaze. It’s obvious now that the two have developed feelings for one another. 

“‘Why don’t you sit?’ [Nesta] leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger. ‘My shadows don’t like the flames so much.’ A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer.

‘Why did you come if it torments you so much?’

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

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

His secret to tell, never hers.”

Elain and Lucien are by the fire. Nesta quickly picks up on the fact that it torments Azriel to see it. She understands why. She sees the pain in his eyes. Azriel is likely in love or close to in love with Elain and seeing her with a mate pains him. Knowing that he’s not her mate pains him. 

Chapter 59 - Post Solstice 

“He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.”

What happened to put Azriel in such a bad mood? 

Azriel Bonus Chapter

This is where Elain and Azriel’s feelings towards each other are confirmed.

This occurs on Winter Solstice - which explains why Azriel acted the way he did and why he “more aloof than usual.”

I’m not going to go into the Gwyn part of the chapter because, in my opinion, it’s not relevant to Azriel and Elain’s relationship. 

“Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones.”

Azriel isn’t sleeping because of his desires...

“He was elated for his brother and yet... Azriel couldn’t stop it. The envy in his chest. Of Cassian, and Rhys.”

Azriel is jealous of Cassian and Rhys. Of their mating bonds and their connections. 

“The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. 

She halted, her breath catching in her throat. ‘I...’ He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier.

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 breath catches when she spots Azriel. 

Azriel knows Elain well enough that he can tell when she’s lying.

“Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. ‘Here.’

Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn't bought her mate a present. 

But she'd gotten Azriel one last year-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.”

Elain is so nervous to give Azriel his gift! 

Azriel looked at the gift she gave him last year every night... They both have it bad for each other. 

I won’t bother to quote it, but Elain gifts Azriel another thoughtful gift - ear plugs to drown out Cassian and Nesta. 

“He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate had been in the family room and 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.”

This is what Nesta observed and understood. Azriel was so tormented by Elain having a mate that he couldn’t go near her. 

“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.”

Understanding between the two of them. Like she knew he liked her but they wouldn’t act on it. Why though?

“Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They'd always been prone to vanish when she was around.”

Azriel’s shadows always vanished around Mor, the woman he loved for 500 years. Now they do the same around Elain. 

“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.

“He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.”

This confirms that there is sexual attraction and romantic feelings between the Elain and Azriel. She shivered. He savored the texture of her skin. 

18+ below!!!

“It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong - it was so wrong. He didn't care.

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.

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 under stand the shift in his scent.”

Azriel is so turned on. He needs Elain. Yet, the touching is wrong to him. Wrong because perhaps he doesn’t feel like he’s enough for her. 

“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.”

Azriel thinks of Elain at night and pleasures himself to him. 

“‘I should go,’ Elain said, but made no move to leave. ‘Yes,’ he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. 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.”

Eyes rolling, beg on his knees... Sounds a lot like how Rhys and Cassian react to Feyre and Nesta. 

“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 that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond his scars. Such terrible things that it was sacrilege for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence.”

That’s why he keeps making self-deprecating comments - he doesn’t feel worthy that somebody like him (a man who tortures for his job) would touch her.

“Azriel’s hand slip 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.”

Elain and Azriel are about to kiss! That is, until Rhysand commands him to stop. 

“His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, ‘This was a mistake.’ She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don't- don't apologize, he managed to say. ‘Never apologize. It's I who should...’ He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he’d brought to her expression. ‘Goodnight.’”

So Rhysand stops the almost kiss and now Elain feels rejected. Azriel is devastated for having to stop and see the hurt he inflicted. 

“Rhys's power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. ‘I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,’ he snarled. ‘Including her mate.’

Rhys is angry in this scene that Azriel may risk starting a feud between courts - the autumn court where Lucien is from (yes, Helion is his father but as of now, Beron believes himself to be Lucien’s father). 

“‘What if the Cauldron was wrong?...The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters yet the third was given to another.’ He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

Azriel questions the Cauldron. Why were my brothers chosen? Why wasn’t I chosen? Why am I never chosen? Why can’t I just be with the person I want to be with? 

Azriel isn’t saying he deserves her or not. He’s questioning fate. 

He’s upset. He’s angry. He’s lonely. He’s heartbroken. 

“Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. Rhys growled, ‘Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.’

‘You can't order me to do that.’”

Azriel doesn’t want to listen to Rhysand. Azriel made his feelings clear - he can’t be ordered to stay away from Elain because of his feelings for her. 

Then, Rhys again mentions the Blood Duel. That Lucien could invoke it should Elain and Azriel pursue something. 

“Rhys bared his teeth. ‘So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.’”

Azriel snarled softly.

His snarl indicates there is way more than just lust between Elain and Azriel. 

So that’s it. 

Azriel and Elain went from acquaintances, to friends, to crushes, to almost lovers and the bonus point of view makes it clear that they have both romantic and sexual feelings towards each other. 

It set up the theme for the next book - a forbidden love story where Elain and Azriel must overcome fate itself to be with each other. 

[ichorai]

sin to win ; k.sj

requested by anon (50 + angel au) for my milestone celebration !!

pairing ; angel!jin x demon!reader (gender-neutral) ft. boxer!jungkook

summary ; an angel and a demon are forced to put aside their differences to help out the same human.

themes ; fantasy, action, comedy, angel au, demon au, boxer au

words ; 1.4k

warnings / includes ; fighting / boxing, cursing, one mention of murder and jail (but nothing of the sorts in the fic), reader is an annoying lil shit KWJLKSDJF, jin is basically a concerned parent bye, jungkook is an emotional n reckless boxer yikes

a/n ; for ficscafe's au pairing event :D i used #5 !! writing this fic made me realize i write this kind of dynamic all the fucking time but i'm not ashamed bcs writing bickering is super fun KWJDKJF

masterlist.

“You’re a nuisance,” Jin hissed out as he flicked his fingers, the boxer’s laces you had just untied lifting into the air and knotting themselves neatly. “I thought you were supposed to be helping the poor guy.”

One of your shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “Tripping once or twice never hurt anybody.”

The guardian angel rounded on you, bristling. His opal-aureate wings fluttered with the sudden movement. “That’s exactly how people get hurt. Now stop mucking around, the match is starting.”

Your eyes rolled to the dim pipes crisscrossing the ceiling of the underground boxing arena. The large room was filled with people surrounding the make-shift ring, their deafening cheers making the cheap plaster walls quiver.

“You know, what we’re doing may be illegal but at least you look amazing. You look like this all the time?” Your charming (at least, you thought it was charming) compliment received all but crickets in response. Though, you were pretty sure you saw his pretty lips twitch a bit. Whether it was into a frown or a smile, you didn’t need to know. “I’d never expect an angel to be willing to cheat in order to help their human out. Doesn’t that go against one of your billions of rules?”

With an exasperated glare, Jin scoffed out, “I’m merely protecting my mortal. I wouldn’t intervene unless necessary. This is necessary.”

“Awh, are you afraid little Jungkook is gonna get a boo-boo?”

The beautiful angel that stood just centimeters away from you didn’t grace you with a response. You grinned at him smugly.

“Well, you’re right to be afraid. Skullcrusher here has won every single match since ‘89. He’s not known to leave his contender in tip-top shape, if you catch my drift. I used to be a big fan. Now? A little bored, if I had to admit. Jungkook winning will create enough chaos to keep me satisfied for a while.” You chuckled, slinging your elbow over Jin’s shoulder, to which he moved away with an irritated side-glance.

The shrill ringing of the red bell signified the start of the match. Skullcrusher, a burly man with a missing eye and more scars than you could count, loomed over Jungkook in the ring. His clenched fist looked bigger than his opponent’s whole torso. His tough features were fixed into a hard, gnarled expression. This man looked as if he’s seen war a million times. In stark juxtaposition, Jungkook stood on the opposite end of the ring, fists raised but raw carmine terror painted across his features. If you looked extra close, you could see his bare shins tremble. Way to play it cool, kiddo.

“I think it’s pretty fucking hot that you’re getting your hands dirty,” you whispered whilst leaning closer to Jin. “I’ve been around for eons, but never have I ever met an angel like you.”

“Stop, I’m blushing,” he replied dryly. He wasn’t blushing, nor were angels really capable of such a feat.

Both of your attentions diverted from each other to the ring, where the first punch was thrown. Jungkook managed to lithely duck out of the way, sliding along the barriers and throwing a jab of his own against the larger man’s abdomen. That must’ve hurt no more than a tiny flick would’ve.

Both of you yelled at the same time.

“You’re doing awful!”

“You’re doing great, Jungkook!”

A bark of a laugh escaped you. “Don’t give him false hope. That shit is poisonous in this industry.”

“He’s not doing so bad,” Jin said, just as Skullcrusher landed a bone-snapping strike against your boxer’s shoulder. “Okay, yeah, fine. But he still needs encouragement.”

“Now or never, angel,” you whistled in a sing-song tone, red magic forming between your fingers. “Your human won’t last much longer in there.”

Gritting his perfect teeth, Jin nodded once. “Do it.”

With a maliciously delighted smirk, you murmured an incantation under your breath. Jin watched in baited interest as Skullcrusher paused in his furious blunder towards his mortal, singular eye turning red. He dropped his fists, an expression mimicking one of a kicked puppy splaying across his rugged visage. Well, as close as a man like that could look like a kicked puppy. Jin turned to look at you, observing the way your own irises were now stained with rose petals, hair floating in the air slightly as your fingers twitched, lips moving whilst susurrating a mantra of sin.

You were beautiful, but you were also deadly. It was hard to remind himself that he was meant to stay well away from you. Jin had to pry his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t staring too long.

Whilst you were keeping the burly man under control, Jin snapped his fingers and fixed his human’s broken shoulder.

The boxer, slightly miffed as to why Skullcrusher wasn’t going absolutely feral and just how his shoulder suddenly stopped buzzing with pure agony, shrugged it all aside and seized the opportunity to land a parade of jabs and punches against his exposed skin. One after another, it sent Skullcrusher toppling down in a matter of minutes. The ceiling pipes rattled as his head hit the ground. Jungkook didn’t stop, sweat dripping down his forehead, going so far as to play dirty and use his feet to throw kicks with a scarily accurate precision. Man, you liked this mortal.

Jin didn’t seem too pleased.

“Get up!” Jungkook roared, but it was all drowned out by the upset boos of the crowd. They were hoping to see another notch in Skullcrusher’s belt. With a concerned furrow of his brows, the angel beside you used his powers to tug Jungkook’s flailing body away from Skullcrusher. He certainly wouldn’t protect Jungkook from jail if he accidentally murdered somebody, that would just be plain immoral. Judging by the crystal disappointment in your gaze, it was evident that you had wanted Jungkook to carry on with his ministrations. Thankfully, you kept your mouth shut.

Disoriented, the boxer stumbled away from the large body and dodged a flying can of soda thrown at his head. With an angry growl, he ducked out of the ring, ripping his gloves off and rushing out of the arena. What was this, Cinderella? It wasn’t even midnight yet. Jin clapped his hands together to push people out of the way for Jungkook.

“Your mortal is moody,” you hummed in amusement. “He’s fun. Keep him around for me, will you?”

Jin’s golden pupils flickered from you to the green-lit exit, and back to you again. For a moment, he appeared as if he wanted to say something to you, then decided against it.

After a considerable amount of hesitation, Jin cracked his lips open once more. “I’ll be back.” His words rang in your ears and you cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “After that stunt, people are going to be hunting Jungkook down. Once you’ve reached the top, there’s always going to be a million hands pulling you down, after all. I might want to fight fire with fire, is all.”

If you thought Jin couldn’t get anymore handsome than he was before, you were absolutely wrong. He looked wickedly arresting in the dim light, a taste of the fruit you couldn’t have.

Your palms planted themselves on your hips. “Would you look at that,” you drawled with playfully narrowed eyes, “Mister Pure Angel wants to see the morally corrupt devil again, huh? Here, have this. It’s my business card.” You conjured a scarlet piece of cardstock out of thin air and slotted it into his cool palms. The brushing of your warm fingers against his skin sent a jolt down his blemishless wings.

An unamused snort escaped him. “This just says meet me in hell, bitch.”

“Well, that is where I live.” Noting that Jin looked quite peeved at your jesting, you gestured for him to turn the card over. “The back’s got an engraved rune. Tap it seven times and I’ll come to you. Now go back to your human. I think he’s crying behind a dumpster. He reeks of fear.”

The angel nodded once, backing away as he said, “Again, thanks for helping out my mortal. We’re indebted to you.”

“I didn’t do it for you!” you called out to Jin, whose figure was growing smaller and smaller the farther away he walked. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was ignoring you. That was absurd, though. “I was just bored, but一and he’s gone.”

A dry laugh danced on your lips. Until next time, ya’ sinful bastard.

[novoaa1writes]

honest

pairing(s): daisy johnson x nb!reader, melinda may & nb!reader (familial)

summary:

coming out is never easy—even when you’ve got reliable people in corner.

contains: angst & fluff with happy ending

(also available on ao3.)

word count: ~2,000

rating: teen

warnings: sparring, self-doubt; anxiety (not chronic); muscle pains, bruises, and aches (from exertion); mild language; coming out; discussions of gender and sexuality

notes: 

in my head, this is staged at the playground somewhere in season 2-3ish of marvel’s agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

— —

disclaimer: this is in no way reflective of the experiences of all non-binary individuals everywhere. as someone who’s recently had the realization that i am Not Woman and Not Man and has been subsequently made to have some rather difficult conversations with those closest to me about changing up pronouns, this is simply based off of my own experience and struggles with my gender / sexuality. it’s a uniquely personal thing to come to terms with, and it’s different for everyone.

feel free to message me if you’d like to talk about it!

— —

You let out a long, slow breath, eyeing yourself critically in the bathroom mirror. 

Nervous eyes, shower-damp skin, lower lip swollen and puffy from biting it relentlessly—an obtrusive testament to the overwhelming abundance of unease ballooning in your chest.

Yeah. Seems about right. 

“C’mon, Y/N,” you grumble, taking great care to pitch your voice well below the hum of the fan overhead. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The more insistent you become, the less you believe it. 

“It’s just Daisy,” you continue, silently willing yourself to remain undeterred by the crushing doubt that gnaws away at your insides. “She’ll understand.” 

... But will she?

You frown at your reflection, skin prickling with frustration. “And if she doesn’t…” you trail off, hating the quiver in your voice for betraying your weakness. “If she doesn’t, then you shouldn’t be with her anyways.” Your voice comes out stronger this time, even if the words themselves are enough to scare you shitless. 

You like Daisy. Could grow to love her, even. 

Being with her… it’s made you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life, and damn it all, but you mean that. 

“She’s going to understand,” you say aloud. “She will.”

God, you pray that that’s true. 

— —

7:00am sees you getting your ass thrown violently all across the mats by an ever-indomitable Melinda May, racking up bruises and scratches and aches like no one’s business. 

By the time 9:00am hits, you’re a wheezing mess, sprawled spread-eagled atop the sparring mats—lungs on fire, chest heaving for breath; sweat-drenched skin littered with technicolored bruising.

In short, it’s hellish. 

“C’mon,” May urges, tone curt and even. She looms imposingly down upon you from above, a decidedly unamused expression gracing her elegant features—and, get this: not a single hair out of place, nor a hint of labored breathing. 

You groan and squint up at her, searching for—

A-ha!

There, just above one immaculately-manicured brow and, like, two millimeters beneath her hairline—a tiny little droplet of perspiration. As you watch, it seems to absorb itself into her flawless skin—disappearing before your eyes like it was never even there. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you grumble. 

May just raises a single brow, offering you a hand up. “Up.”

You frown at her but don’t push your luck; rather, you accept the proffered hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. Your arms and legs and abdominal muscles all scream in protest as you lurch upright into a flat-footed stance, but you grit your teeth and bear it. 

Training with May—torturous (and often humiliating) as it may be—is voluntary. Something you chose, and continue to choose even despite the unadulterated hell it puts your body through with every swift kick and bone-jarring punch.

Not only that, you’re lucky to study opposite someone as fearless, skilled, and fucking terrifying as Melinda May. 

Even when your limbs are all ache-y and sore and burning with a pain beyond your years, you know that. 

Still… 

You probably could’ve done without this today. After all, getting your ass kicked for a solid two hours all across the mats doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. And, considering the conversation you plan to have with Daisy this afternoon, you’re gonna need to muster up all the confidence you can get. 

— —

“Spit it out,” May prompts, sidling up to match you stride for stride as you take a couple cool-down laps around the miniature track (¼ the size of a regulation model)... walking, that is. Not jogging. 

Honestly, you think that if you even tried jogging right now, you’d pass out. 

You spare her a sidelong glance as the two of you round the bend, perfectly in sync. “What?” 

May purses her lips, giving you a look. “You were sloppy today,” she remarks pointedly. “Distracted.” 

Her stare seems to burn holes through the side of your head. 

“Wow, thanks,” you mumble. The sardonic quip tastes funny coming off your tongue.

“You were off today,” May reiterates, sidestepping your wisecrack entirely. Her footsteps are soundless even as the soles of your beat-up Air Force Ones slap the tread audibly with every stride. “That doesn’t happen often.”

“Sure it does.” You shrug. “You kicked my ass today, same as always. If you ask me—” You hesitate briefly at the look on May’s face, which is plainly screaming ‘I didn’t’ “—today’s been anything but out of the ordinary.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” May remarks without missing a beat. It’s like she didn’t even hear you (which you damn well know that she did). 

Still, you don’t do her the disservice of arguing the point any further. 

You walk another ten paces in perfect silence—no, twelve. You know because you count each one. 

Unsurprisingly, you’re first to break the immersive quiet. “I think I want to tell Daisy.”

May’s impartial expression doesn’t change. “About?”

You almost roll your eyes, but manage to curb the impulse at the very last second. “You know what about.”

Hell, May was the first person you told. You came to her quarters hyperventilating in the dead of night, tears streaming down both cheeks and a sense of such deep-seated discomfort swelling in your chest, your ribs positively ached with the force of it.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You bite your lower lip, apprehension gnawing at your insides. “About…” You trail off, internally scolding yourself. This shouldn’t be so fucking hard. “About me being… non-binary.” 

Non-binary. 

What a flimsy little term. So matter-of-fact… almost scientific in nature. And yet, the way it affects you is nothing short of visceral—all-encompassing and monstrous, compressing your very lungs in an iron-clad vice until it’s agony to draw breath. 

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts ; voicing this simple reality that’s plagued you since you were very small, looming malignantly in the margins of everything you do… and yet, the truth of it rings keen and strong in your ears—clear as a bell.  

It’s liberating and frightful all in one; a grating juxtaposition, to be clear.

“Yes.” The sound of May’s uncharacteristically gentle intonation cuts clean through the blaring noise in your head, yanking you out from a sea of inner turmoil with startling decision. “I’m proud of you.”

Her words—gently-spoken as they may be—hit you like consecutive sucker punches to the gut. “What?” you choke, forcing out a breathless chuckle. 

May—predictably—is staunch, unyielding… wholly undeterred. “You’re being true to yourself,” she insists, matching you step for step as you start in on lap two. Your chest burns something awful and your legs aren’t much better, but you pay it little mind. “That’s no small thing.”

“It’s terrifying,” you tell her. As far as you’re concerned, that’s something of an understatement.

She nods. “It often is.”

“What if… What if I tell her and she doesn’t like me anymore?”

May raises a single brow. “Daisy, a known bisexual who has stated on more than one occasion that the gender binary is ‘stupid’ and ‘exclusionary’? Daisy, who’s been on dates with more than one openly non-binary person in the past?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

May—bless her heart—doesn’t snort or sigh or roll her eyes, but you can tell it’s not for lack of wanting. Instead, she merely slants you a pointed look that says, ‘Exactly.’

You walk the next six strides in silence, your feet aching in your shoes.  

“I’m going to tell her,” you say eventually, a tinge of cautious certainty creeping into your tone. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince—yourself, or May. 

All the same, May is nothing if not steady and dependable amidst stormy seas; she always knows just what to say. (Or, what not to say, as it were.) 

There are no tears, no hugs, no flowery platitudes… nothing but a sharp nod of approval and the barest hint of a grin curving her lips, like she sees you for who you are and she approves—like she’s proud, even. You don’t know how else to translate the tender mercy in her eyes, the way it seems to warm you from the inside out. 

Yeah, you can tell Daisy. 

You’re going to tell Daisy. 

And May’s gonna be right there beside you the whole time.

— —

In retrospect, you definitely could’ve gone about this better. 

Like, you weren’t exactly going for the kind of heartfelt reconciliation you’d see in some coming-of-age sap-fest movie on the big screen; and it’s not as though there’s an exact script to follow for all this, but… 

Pulling away from a decidedly heated kiss to blurt out, “I’m not a woman”—and doing so while you’re half-naked and straddling the lap of a similarly scantily-clad Daisy in bed, no less—definitely hadn’t been your first choice. 

Judging by the expression on Daisy’s pretty features—which is caught somewhere between taken aback and genuinely concerned—she’s coming to the same conclusion.  

To her credit, though, she recovers quickly—though the crease between her brows (a testament to her lingering bewilderment) remains. “What?”

You swallow thickly, carding your fingers through her tousled hair—a nervous habit of yours you’d developed as of late. “I’m…” You sigh, apprehension building in your chest. “I’m not a woman.”

Daisy’s brows raise marginally even as she offers a shallow nod, wide attentive eyes steadfastly holding yours. “Okay…” she begins gently, rubbing circles into the bare skin above your left hipbone with a callused thumb—a subtle nudge for you to continue. 

“I just—I don’t feel like a woman,” you say, and this time it’s easier, even if the sheer measure of honesty in that statement is enough to make your stomach turn. “And I don’t feel like a man, either.”

Understanding flares in Daisy’s pretty brown eyes. “Okay,” she says again. “So, you’re not a woman…” She pauses, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss upon your shoulder. “And you’re not a man,” she continues, lifting her jaw to study you face-to-face, the tip of her pert nose brushing up against your own. “Which means… ?”

“I’m, um,” you squirm a bit, shifting atop her bare thighs, “... non-binary.” Your cheeks are hot, burning with shame, and you have never been so grateful that your skin is tawny enough to conceal it. 

Daisy doesn’t blink. “Okay,” she replies, then leans forth to place a barely-there peck atop your lips. 

You frown down at her, lips tingling. “‘Okay’?” you repeat.  

Daisy grins, leaning in for another kiss—and you’re all too quick to indulge her even as your thoughts spin and disbelief wars violently with consternation within your chest. 

Her lips are soft and warm against your own; when her tongue flits out to trace your lips, you’re parting them in an instant to meet her halfway; the sensation of kissing her is nothing short of euphoric, and you surrender willfully unto it like leaves in the brisk autumn wind. 

Seconds pass, or maybe it’s minutes, but she’s catching your lower lip between her teeth and you’re sucking on the tip of her tongue and— 

Quite suddenly, the kiss has become nothing short of filthy—all open-mouthed and desperate and bruising just how you like, and damn it all, but you can finish the rest of the conversation another time.

For now… well. You’re preoccupied with other things.  

— — 

(Later that night, when you’re both laid up in bed and drifting off to sleep, Daisy asks if you’d like her to start referring to you as ‘they’ and ‘them’ rather than ‘she’ and ‘her.’

When you answer in the affirmative, telling her that nothing would make you happier, the sheer measure of honesty in your words doesn’t feel nearly as nauseating as it did before. 

In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

The way Daisy reacts—a murmured, “Okay”; a feather-light kiss upon your forehead; two strong arms pulling you closer in the dark… well. That’s just icing on the cake. 

Despite everything—the self-doubt, the second guessing, the aching soreness settling into the very marrow of your bones—you feel yourself break out into a broad grin beneath the pitch-dark cover of night.

You feel good; comfortable in your own skin. You feel… happy.)

— —

end notes: i want melinda may to be my friend.

LINK TO MASTERLIST

[meltwonu]

18. “You’re in trouble now.”

27. “Watch me.”

36. “Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

notes; FIRST OF ALL FUCK THANK YOU FOR ASKING I WANTED TO WRITE MORE ☠️🥵HRRHHKSAJSDHKAJ, INCUBUS!WONWOO, INCUBUS!CHAN, blowjob, cumplay/cum eating, degradation, hair pulling, overstimulation, this is long bc i’m not only the biggest wonwoorideul but also the biggest dinonara LMAOOOO, thank you for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

The rest is under the cut! 

Wonwoo watches with sharp eyes the way your body jolts with every fleeting touch.

He runs his fingertips down your torso, eyes only momentarily dancing over to Chan who watches from your side.

“Don’t you think she’s been punished enough~?” He sing-songs; not truly asking. Licking his lips, he watches as Wonwoo switches his pace again, hand wrapped around his own cock as he matches Wonwoo’s thrusts.

“Has she? I think she can take a little more.” Wonwoo chuckles darkly, watching the tears pool in your eyes.

You can’t remember how many times Wonwoo’s edged you already; mind fuzzy when the head of his cock slams into your cervix over and over. His crimson eyes remind you silently to not cum unless allowed to, but with each passing second, you can already feel yourself crumbling.

“Buh--but--Wo--Wonwoo…” You whine, arms bound above your head yet again with their translucent bonds.

“Hmm? Is my ‘lil plaything complaining?” He teases, pausing his movements when he can feel your walls getting tighter around him. You can vaguely hear Chan’s airy laugh from next to you; legs quivering when you feel the tension in your body still ready to snap. “I--n-no…” Whispering, you urge your body to calm down, whines spilling from your lips when Wonwoo resumes his pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts from Wonwoo before you’re cumming, hot tears streaming down your face when your orgasm takes you by surprise. The tingling sensation pours over your entire body as wrecked sobs fall from your lips; Wonwoo’s name a jumbled mess in the mix.

“You’re in trouble now~”

Chan’s voice breaks through the ringing in your ears and the teasing lilt in it lets you know that Wonwoo has the same idea.

Wonwoo doesn’t let you catch your breath before the binds that keep your arms pinned are undone and he’s pulling out of you. A small whine is all you can muster before he quickly flips you onto your stomach. “W--wait--”

“Wait? You surely didn’t.” He jokes, working an arm underneath you as he rearranges you to be on your hands and knees.

“Now, you’re gonna suck Chan’s cock while I fuck you.”

Chan pushes all the pillows off the bed; a big smirk on his face when he situates himself in front of you instead. “Hi, baby! Ready to choke on my cock?” The younger male laughs, sliding his fingers through your mussed hair before he tugs on it harshly.

He guides his cock towards your mouth, tapping the head of it on your chapped lips. “Open wide~ Or else Wonwoo-hyung is gonna be even meaner~” Chan warns, eyes flashing a deep crimson of their own when your foggy eyes meet his.

You heed his warning, parting your lips as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. Wonwoo, at the same time, positions his cock at your entrance again. He grins as he slides his cock back into your pussy; your walls automatically clenching around him when he and Chan both start fucking you at an alternating paces.

“Fuck, look at you. Fuckin’ made to take cock.” Wonwoo grits out, fingertips digging into your ass as he fucks you from behind. “You really are fuckin insatiable, huh? All that talk about not wanting to fuck Chan but here you are suckin’ his cock anyway. I told you to not lie to me.”

“Taking cock is all she’s good at, hyung~” Chan laughs, tugging on your hair a little harder as he uses your mouth to get off. He works more and more of his cock into your mouth until you’re gagging around him; soft groans spilling from his own lips as he tightens his grip on your hair. “Shit, her fucking mouth is so damn small. Can’t imagine how tight her cunt is…” He trails off; eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Wonwoo smirks, licking his lips. “You’ll just have to keep dreaming.” He pauses, grinding against you as you moan around Chan’s cock. “Do you think he could satisfy you? Could he make you feel as good as I do?” This time his questions are directed to you, a soft yet warning edge to them. Chan slips his cock from between your lips as you sputter, catching your breath as the air returns to your lungs.

“Well?”

“I--I--don’t k-know…” Your voice is hoarse, tears still blurring your vision when Chan smiles down at you. “You don’t know? Do you want to find out?” He questions; eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Mind your place, brat.”

Chan laughs lightheartedly at Wonwoo’s threat, nodding as he positions his cock back at your mouth. “Wonwoo’s got quite a hold on you and your ‘lil cunt, princess. Guess we won’t be finding out, huh?”

He resumes fucking your mouth just as Wonwoo doubles his pace, forcing your mouth further onto Chan’s cock. And despite already cumming multiple times, you already feel on edge again; the tingling sensations running all over your body.

Your head feels muddled as you zone out; only their touches keeping you grounded.

Chan tilts your head up, watching as the lust pools in your eyes. “Watch me. Keep your eyes on me, princess.” His voice is soft; a juxtaposition to his harsh movements. “And don’t swallow.” Chan mumbles, hand tangled in your hair as he holds your mouth down on his cock as he cums.

The salty substance coats your tongue, a weak moan of your own escaping as he fills your mouth up with the warm liquid. Wonwoo fucks you faster, chasing his own high as you slowly suck on the head of Chan’s cock.

“Fuck!”

You hear Wonwoo growling from behind you; his hips stuttering as he cums inside your pussy. The action alone sends the tension in your body snapping as you cum too; dizziness settling in when Chan pulls his cock from your mouth. “I said don’t swallow~” He warns again just as his fingers slip from your hair.

Moaning around the warm cum in your mouth, your upper body slumps against the soiled sheets as you and Wonwoo catch your breaths.

The electricity coursing through your body is overwhelming, mind hazy when Wonwoo slides his cock from inside of you again and flips you onto your back. Your eyes flutter shut, only aware of Wonwoo’s gentle fingers massaging your still trembling thighs.

“Still with me?” He asks; tone soft as he wraps your legs around his waist.

You can only nod tiredly, sleepy eyes meeting Wonwoo’s sated expression. He leans over you, lips hovering over yours before kissing you hard. You let out a squeak when his tongue licks the seam of your lips, parting your mouth for him in an open mouthed kiss.

Chan watches with an amazed expression as Wonwoo’s tongue laps at the cum that sits on your own tongue, taking it back into his own mouth when he pulls away. The two share a knowing look as Wonwoo takes his index and middle finger, popping them into his mouth as he covers the digits with a mixture of his  saliva and Chan’s cum.

The younger male can only exhale in shock, eyes fixated on the wet digits that Wonwoo brings to your swollen pussy.

“Swallow.” You swallow down the rest of the cum in your mouth, chapped lips parting in a whine.

“Won--Wonwoo--I--I c-can’t cum a-again...” You slur out, teeth chattering when you feel his fingertips already at your entrance.

“Oh? What was it that you said earlier? That you wanted to cum as many times as I wanted you to? And to make you cry?” He quips, eyes gleaming with mirth before he sheaths his wet digits into your pussy. Your body is still buzzing with the remnants of your previous orgasm, but you can’t help but clench around his fingers as he scissors and thrusts them inside of you.

Wonwoo fucks his cum deeper inside of you, eyes watching as some of it drips out from his quick pace. “You said you wanted what I wanted and what I want is for you to cum for me again.” He places his thumb on your clit, rubbing it in harsh motions.

Incoherent words and sounds spill from your lips as Wonwoo urges another orgasm out of you within a matter of minutes; toes curling behind his back as your back arches off the bed.

The lightheadedness bites you hard as your orgasm crests, body feeling weightless as Wonwoo keeps his thumb on your clit and fingers still inside of you. Chan whistles, watching as your entire body tenses in Wonwoo’s hold, nodding in amazed fascination.

“Fuck, hyung, I knew you could be mean but… Holy shit.”

Wonwoo slips his fingers from inside of you as your body starts to relax, chest heaving as you catch your breath. “Mean? Who says I’m mean?” He smirks, licking his fingers clean as he watches your tired form.

The buzzing sensation in your body only intensifies after you start coming down from your high, legs twitching when Wonwoo finally pulls away. Chan stays next to you, checking to make sure you’re okay as Wonwoo slips off of the bed. He turns to you, lips curved up in a sultry smirk when you meet his intense stare.

“Be careful what you ask for, baby. You know I’ll always give it to you.”

[poutyhannie]

warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship, sub!jisung, dom!femreader, pegging, denied orgasm, unsafe sex, degrading 

word count: +2.4k 

this was inspired by a twitter post saying that jisung is the type of boyfriend that would say ‘you wanna kiss me so bad’ during an argument :))

“I don’t understand why it’s so fucking difficult for you to just put a stupid shirt on when I have my friends over, Jisung,” you exclaim, exasperated at your boyfriends stubbornness and the fact that you have to even ask this of him. You’d think not walking around half naked in front of guests would be an obvious courtesy but Jisung had to emerge from your shared room with his tits out and even now brushes off your requests. 

“I’m chill with your friends,” is all he offers, shrugging to walk away from you to the bedroom but his flippant attitude and unwillingness to hear you has you snapping at him. “Listen, I don’t fucking care how close you are with them, put some fucking clothes on when we have people over!” 

He pauses, looking back at you with an infuriating knowing smirk, “So this is what this is about.” 

“The fuck do you mean, this is the only thing I’ve been talking to you about!” 

Smiling, he strolls back over to you before bending down to look you in the eye patronizingly. 

 Oh, this little brat. 

“You wanna fuck me so bad.” 

Your stuttering cough has Jisung smirking, cocky and content with his guess but you protest, “I’m asking you to put some clothes on, idiot!” 

“No, no,” Jisung shakes his head, his fluffy black hair caressing his face, “you got all worked up seeing me a little bit naked and you wanna blame it on me.” 

“Know your fucking place, baby boy.” Jisung is normally a brat, but you’re hoping your dark tone will shut him up. Contrary to these hopes but aligning with past history, Jisung just cocks an eyebrow at you, heightening the burning in your stomach from anger to something deeper. 

How much you want to put this little brat in his place. Instead, a harsh, condescending laugh tears through your throat. Jisung’s confident smirk falters for a millisecond. “No, baby boy you’re projecting. You just want me to fuck you in that pretty ass of yours again.” Jisung’s adam apple bobs harshly despite his relatively unfazed face as he shakes his head harshly. “Aww,” you coo, “is my little Bambi too shocked to use his words?” 

At the use of his favorite nickname you have for him, red flushes Jisung’s cheeks and ears. “No—,” he denies fruitlessly but you’ve already made your mind. 

“Fine, if my horny little slut really can’t go a few hours without blatantly acting out, I guess I have no other choice. Go get in bed. Put on that new outfit we bought.” Jisung protests, pouting in an attempt to hide his stupid smile as he drags his feet. 

Jisung kneels on the bed, his tan thighs providing a beautiful contrast of the white of the sheets and the baby blue of the skirt you bought for him. You can already see the outline of his dick pressing up against the folds of the skirt. His eyes are glassy and his chest already rises quickly. “Good boy, now get my box and you can finally get what you want.” 

A frown is etched on Jisung’s face, his pretty pink lips curling into a pout, “No, I don’t want it. I wanna be in you.” 

Your hand squeezes Jisung’s chin firmly and you try to not melt at how his cheeks squish in your grip. “You’ve already tested me enough today, Bambi. Better get the box now.” 

Jisung’s round dark eyes hold yours for a split second longer than usual and your chest flares at his indignant attitude. “I got in the skirt and I’m sitting here all pretty; why do you want the box?” He whines, playing with the skirt’s hem. 

Sighing, you drop Jisung’s chin, walking to the closet yourself and ignoring Jisung’s sudden backpedaling, his claims that he’ll get the box himself but your cold voice stops him half way to the closet. “Get back on the fucking bed, face in the pillows, you fucking brat.” Retrieving the familiar black box and turning around your met with Jisung’s shivering figure bent over into the bed. Tracing a finger up his smooth thighs, you remind, “Remember to use the safe word when you need it, Jisung.” 

He nods into the pillows. Faster than he could nod again, your hand is on his ass, smacking him for not using his words. A pretty little whimper and then a soft, “Yes, I understand, ma’am.” Content, you return to his thighs, stroking slowly up and teasing around his painfully erect cock and ass. You fasten a cock ring on him, ignoring Jisung’s soft whimpers of protest. “

As pretty as this skirt is, I don’t think you deserve it right now, Bambi. I was really excited to fuck you in it but you’re just not letting that happen.” Jisung can only shiver as you slowly unzip the skirt and carefully hang it up, making sure to take your time smoothing out the creases from the hanger. 

Jisung always liked things quick, exciting; he hates the slow and methodical so you’re a bit surprised when his pretty bare ass is still up in the air when you finally turn around. You let your finger tips whisper over his thighs, softly circling up his tender skin until he’s quivering under your touch. His cock is glistening, pressed harshly against his lower abdomen and his chest heaves as he attempts to keep quiet. In the tense silence, a resounding smack fills the room. Jisung jolts forward, surprised by the juxtaposition of your gentle caresses with the harsh hand that is turning his pretty ass pink. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh, baby boy? You think that if you prance around half naked, like a slut, I’ll let you fuck me?” 

Jisung’s voice is high, whiny, and breathy, “I-I didn’t plan that!” Another smack that stings your palm and his ass jiggles adorably, “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew I had friends over and you wanted my attention like the clingy little whore you are.” A groan escapes Jisung’s lips, muffled by the pillows, but you can hear it loud and clear. It rings through the silent room, hanging in the air as tension builds. By the way Jisung shivers, you can tell he’s thinking of apologizing but you don’t let him. Grasping his fluffy black hair by the scalp, you wrench his face up to look at you. 

His eyes are shining and wide and his lips are red from his teeth. “You like this shit. You think your shitty excuses can fool me? Am I an idiot to you?” 

He shakes his head as best he can under your grip and his lips quiver, “I-I just really wanted your attention,” he whispers. 

“Color, Jisung?” 

His earnest, round eyes hold yours with determination even as his bottom lip quivers. “Green.” 

With that, you push his head back into the pillows, smacking his ass once more before fastening the strap onto your hips. The dildo is baby blue, matching Jisung’s skirt currently hanging in the closet. Jisung picked it out. “Fine. If my little slut wants my fucking attention, he’s got it now,” you hiss as you squirt strawberry lube onto your finger and press it to his quivering hole. An almost inaudible whimper escapes Jisung and you reach down to harshly grasp his dick. He cries out, jolting into your hand involuntarily. “Let me hear you, Bambi. Don’t hold back those pretty sounds.” 

He groans in to the pillow, “Yes, ma’am.” Satisfied, you press your two fingers into his ass, relishing the exhale he lets out. Slowly, you begin to push in and out of him, curling your fingers and scissoring deep into him. His soft moans fill the room, accompanying the familiar sounds of your fingers in him. Finally acting good, Jisung arches his back at the sensation and you feel him clench around your fingers. Sliding your fingers out of him, you lather more lube on the strap before positioning yourself behind him. The deep, throaty moan Jisung lets out when you enter him burns your core and you start roughly thrusting into him. Unlike your previously honey-slow movements, your thrusts are quick, so rapid that after a few moments, Jisung’s arms collapse under him. 

Slapping, sounds of his hole, Jisung’s constant stream of weak moans fill your ears. His hand fumbles around behind him, wanting to hold your hands but you slap it away, pulling out quickly. A high whine escapes from Jisung’s swollen lips and you flip him over, yanking his thighs apart. “Hold,” you instruct him and Jisung nods weakly, grabbing his ankles and positioning his hips up. 

It’s such a pretty scene: Jisung’s round, glassy eyes focused only on you, his flushed cheeks, his wet hole, and his glistening red cock. You ease the strap into him again, leaning down to grip his shoulders as you begin thrusting into him at the same rapid speed. Jisung’s pretty lips open as he scrunches his nose up, overcome with pleasure. His hair bounces with your thrusts and slapping rings in your ears. After you quickly reposition, Jisung lets out a high scream, “Right there! Yes, oh my god, right there.” Using your hands to push his hips down in tempo with your thrusts, you beckon Jisung closer to his unraveling. His face screws up and his gasps become rapid. Your hand begins rubbing his hard cock and he moans beautifully. Swiping over the slit you keep thrusting into him until his moans increase in volume and he cries out, “I-I’m close!” 

At this, you fully pull out and away from Jisung. His cries of pleasure immediately turn into cries of pain as he sobs into the pillows, turning over to rub his cock in the covers. “Why did you do that?” Jisung cries, his voice raw and sensitive as his eyes fill with tears. 

“Suck it,” you demand, pushing your hips forward. Still fuzzy from his denied orgasm, Jisung’s lips fumble around the plastic and his doe eyes gaze up at you, even as tears spill over onto his pretty cheeks. He hollows his cheeks and moves up and down the plastic, never breaking eye contact with you. “Why do you think you deserve to cum, Bambi? You’ve been nothing but a bad boy.” 

He whines into the plastic, averting his eyes, still sucking on the plastic like a lollipop. You pull away, gripping his cheeks with your hand. There’s his own cum mixed with lube on his lips, it makes them as glossy as his teary eyes. “Answer me.” Jisung’s cheeks and the tips of his ears burn red. “I-I don’t de-deserve to cum,” he whispers, pouting. 

“And why’s that?” 

Tears fill his eyes once again and he looks at you mournfully, “Because I’ve been n-nothing but a b-bad boy.” 

“Do bad boys get to cum?” You ask him. 

“N-no,” he whispers. 

“Do bad boys get to fuck me?” 

He shakes his head around your hand, “Bad boys d-don’t deserve t-to fuck you.” 

Nodding you tell him, “Lay back on the bed.” His eyes fill with sadness that pangs at your heart but he obeys, staring longingly at the strap that you’re taking off. Slowly, you clamber onto of him, your burning core dragging on his abdomen. Hands on his chest, you begin using his body, rolling your hips up and down his stomach as he does nothing but watch you with glassy eyes. The dejected look in his eyes tells you he’s disappointed you’re just gonna get yourself off yet there’s a distinct excitement at watching you grind yourself onto his abs. So when you grab his dick and sink down on it though, he gasps, bucking up into you. Quickly, you begin bouncing on top of him as his gasps and moans of surprise mix with yours. 

Jisung fills you so perfectly and stretches you so beautifully your mind is whirling. He gently caresses your thighs as he arches his back off the bed. The denied orgasm and tension made him sensitive. “You’ve b-been such a slut, baby,” you gasp, moving up and down his solid length, “B-but you’re my slut and I-I take care of you.” 

Jisung whines at your words, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. “D-does that mean y-you’re not mad at me?” You gaze down at him and his fucked-out self and smile, “Was e-earlier not punishment enough to sh-show you I was mad at you?” He shakes his head quickly, thrusting up to meet you as he starts whining and moaning. “I-I’m close, ma’am. C-can I c-cum please?” 

Jisung uses two fingers to rub your clit in tempo with your movements and you hum in pleasure. “C-cum whenever, Bambi,” you breathe, as the coil in your stomach tightens. Jisung nods, eyebrows scrunching as his moans become more high and loud, whiny cries fills the room as he shoots into you. Jisung’s pleasure-filled expression is all it takes for you to unravel, clenching around his twitching dick. Riding out both of your highs, you slowly descend from pleasure and collapse beside Jisung, whose chest heaves and eyes are shut. 

When he doesn’t open them even after you’ve gathered your senses, you push yourself up onto an elbow, worry furrowing your brow. “Bambi, was that too much?” His dark pretty eyes open slowly and you caress his tear stained cheek gently. 

“I-I’m sorry for making you mad, I just really m-missed you and wanted your attention.” Cooing you shake your head, pressing soft kisses on his cheeks before trailing down to press open mouthed kisses on his neck and nibbling on his sensitive part. He shivers as you whisper into his wonderful smelling neck, “I’m not upset at you, Jisung,” you tell him, curling your fingers into his hair, “Don’t ever apologize for wanting my attention.” Kissing his neck again and sucking, you make him sigh contently, though there’s still tension. “I’ll always want to give my precious baby boy attention. You deserve the world, Bambi. You’re my angel and I wanna give you everything.” 

All tension in Jisung’s face and body immediately relaxes and a shining, gummy smile spreads across his face. “Really?” He coos, tugging you closer to wrap his arms around you. 

You nod firmly, “You’re pretty, precious, wonderful boyfriend and what I say during sex doesn’t mean anything because I love you so much.” Jisung giggles, blushing as he nuzzles his nose with yours, “Okay. I love you too, Y/n.”

[under-sedationnn]

asra week 2021: celebration

me? writing and posting the day one prompt for asra week on day three? more likely than you think haha work has been keeping me super duper busy, but i really want to be able to participate in something so cool and genuine :) harnessing creativity takes time and effort, but it is so worth and it! i am so so proud of all of the work that has been posted for asra week so far and am honored to be a part of it, even if i am a little late on posts :) hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1465

@sweetalnazar

"Asra, not to whine or anything, but how much longer until we reach where we're going?"

Chuckling, he turned to me, his face mischievous and bright in the warm sun of the afternoon. He grabbed my hand, and laid a small kiss on my knuckles.

"Not too much longer, Y/n, I promise."

After traveling on foot for hours at this point, my mind reeled with the question: Where is he taking me? He had avoided the question with relative ease all day, only indulging me in the detail that I would love it, and that it would be worth the journey. My calves burned and sweat trickled down my back. I yearned for the cool breeze that set in after sundown; luckily, night was near.

Steeling myself for another taxing hour of aching feet, I suddenly noticed a bright gathering of lights up ahead. Although sunset drowned out the glory of candles and lanterns on the horizon, it was clear that upon nightfall, the place would be alive with heat and fire.

Stopping in my tracks, I asked, "Is this where you're taking me?"

He only smiled, and in our excitement we nearly ran the rest of the way. Arriving, I noticed booths, tents, and a small stage. Foreign spices tickled at my nose and my mouth watered at the thought of what kinds of food I would find here.

Although, there was a presence of something else, as well. Something familiar, ghosting past me. Seeping into my skin, gliding across my arms and legs and filling my clothes with fever and chill and adventure.

Gesturing widely to the array of people and small shops in front of us, Asra said, "Welcome to the Celebration of the Magician."

Understanding, I asked, "So you feel it too? It's magic in the air?"

"Quite literally."

Walking through one of the small aisles, he explained, "We'll run into many drifters here. Many that are not actual magicians, like the fortune tellers in Vesuvia. However," he stopped in front of a sealed tent, smoke drifting slowly out of the cracked seam, "there are some like us."

"There's another magician in there?"

He simply nodded, asking, "Would you like to meet her?"

Nodding vigorously, I took his hand and led us into the large space. Despite the presence of the tent outside, the inside seemed to stretch out into a grand entrance. The walls made out of black fabric, the floor smoothly shifted from patchy grass and sand into ebony marble. Smoke laced the roof of the tent, swirling down to trace our skin.

The smell of ash and tobacco grew stronger as we approached a door at the end of the long, wide hall. Sealed shut, there was no handle. Foreign symbols were etched around the door frame, and I assumed they were protective charms.

"Asra, what are these?" I asked, tracing my fingers over the carved lines.

Leaning closer to the door, he mimicked my actions, “They keep the door sealed to unwanted visitors, non-magicians.”

“Okay, but there’s not even a handle, how do we get in?”

Backing away, he said, “We need to figure out what the symbols say. If I know anything about Aislinn, it’s that she loves riddles.”

Rooting through his satchel, he pulled out a small book of symbols and incantations, searching for matching words or characters that could aid us. As the minutes passed, I began to grow slightly frustrated at the seemingly impossible riddle, though Asra kept a calm demeanor.

Turn around. A voice whispered, the words floating around my head for moments after.

Turn around. It repeated, and this time I obliged.

A mirror had appeared, embellished with fiery jewels set into bright gold. Quite the juxtaposition against the cold and murky decor of the room.

Peering into the reflection, I began to read the symbols along the door. The once foreign words had transformed into a language I could not only understand with ease, but ones that felt completely familiar to me.

Translating, I carefully said, “You may enter when the waves crash and the seas part, when two bodies become one.”

Turning around abruptly, Asra made his way over to the mirror, only noticing its appearance after hearing me speak. “You can read it?”

“Yeah, if you look in the mirror, it shows you what it says, look!” I pointed to all of the words along the doorframe within the reflection, and still found Asra dumbfounded at the symbols across the door.

“Y/n, they just look like backwards symbols to me,” he chuckled, looking proudly at my face. “I suppose your magic has connected to Aislinn’s somehow, she must like you.”

Though feeling proud, I still found myself confused at the riddle that was presented to us.

“That’s great, but that still doesn’t take care of this riddle. You know I have never been very good at them.”

“Which must be why you love visiting the Magician’s realm so much, hm?” he teased, earning a poke in the side from me.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said, chuckling all the while, “but seriously, what does it mean oh great riddle solver?”

“Well let’s see,” he began, “we know that it’s not literal, so she’s not actually talking about the sea or two bodies of water crashing into each other.”

“Oh,” I said, “I think I understand.”

He gave me a small smirk, leaning closer, “Me too, should we test the theory?”

Giving him a small nod, he pulled me close and placed a small kiss on my lips. Though not lasting long, after we pulled away, the feeling of his lips on mine lingered. His eyes shined and a blush faded across the bridge of his nose. I remembered then how much I care about him, and everything he has done to help me.

As I dared to pull him in again, the door swung open with a small creek, and we were pulled in with an imaginary force. Colors swirled around us until everything faded to a muggy hue of red and black and gold.

I found myself sitting on a plush couch, next to Asra, while surrounded by other magicians. Some were sitting in the same area as we were, sipping on drinks and telling each others’ fortune, while others danced slowly and sultry. Their bodies moved in synced rhythm to low drums, cellos, violas. The smoke was thick within this room as well, and it had a dreamlike quality to it.

Looking at Asra, I felt relaxed, at ease, and as though I could take a long nap. He obviously felt similarly, the same sleepy expression playing across his face, as well.

“I thought you two would never make it.” I deep, slow voice drawled, “Honestly, Asra, you’ve lost your touch.”

Moving my gaze upwards, I found a tall and aged woman towering over us. Although she showed her age, her aura was timeless and she seemed to radiate youth, passion, and a sense of risk. A large, black panther roamed aimlessly around the room, eventually finding a seat at her feet.

“It’s nice to see you again, Aislinn,” standing, he took one of her ringed hands and placed a small kiss on the back of it, “you look fantastic.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, young magician.”

Turning to meet my eyes, she gestured for me to stand. I stood to meet her gaze, and found myself having to look up at her statuesque figure.

“And this one, where did you find them?” She ran her nails along my jaw, seemingly scrutinizing the intricacies of my face.

“They found me, Aislinn, and I am lucky for it.”

“Well they’re just beautiful aren’t they, and so very powerful.”

She smiled at me, and placed kisses across my cheeks. Stepping back, she spoke to the both of us.

“Please do enjoy yourselves, and don’t be strangers.”

Gliding away, her familiar followed after her, vanishing into the misty crowd ahead.

“Would you like to dance?” Asra asked, bringing my attention back to him.

Blushing, I answered, “With you, always.”

Walking over toward the other dancers, he found my hips and brought them to his own. Wrapping my hands around his neck, he buried his face into my shoulder and began to sway. A slow pace, soft, with small kisses along my shoulder blades and neck. Our hips moved into synchronicity, and mouths followed the beat of the drums, and rhythm of the strings, the heat of the room.

The Celebration of the Magician was meant to represent the honoring of magic itself, as well as all of the people who harness its powers. However, in this moment, Asra and I celebrated one another, the power we possessed, as well as what we meant to each other.

[hajimewhore]

Amusement Park Date🎢 (Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader) ➸sfw, gn!Reader, 1.3k+ words  ➷fluff, established relationship, lil kisses, really just a cute drabble that got too long, introspection into your relationship with Ushiwaka   ➷Ushiwaka mini playlist:  Airplane Mode♫  Daft Pretty Boys♫  Rings♫  I LOVE YOU 3000 II♫

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh with the back of a hand when your eyes catch the display screen showcasing images of the park’s guests. Some coasters have a hidden camera installed to catch you when you least expect it, at the steepest drop during the ride, the collection of photographs are then displayed at the rollercoaster’s exit for purchase (or in your case, a quick snap of your phone’s camera). 

The slideshow took it’s sweet time to shuffle through the images, but once it landed on your coaster’s photo, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up.

Ushijima is stone faced in the image, a severe juxtaposition to your animated features. Upon any normal person’s inspection, they’d see the image at face value, thinking ‘that man must be seriously unbothered!’ 

Though after dating Ushijima for a few years, you’ve learned to pick up on the most minute details. 

He’s got a death grip on the rails, hands tightened around the seat bars as if the 190 pound guy could fly out the top. His perfectly cut jaw is tightened, teeth probably gnashing as he bites back a scream. His eyebrows are raised ever so slightly, similar to his widened eyes. All nearly imperceptible signs that show just how wildly uncomfortable Ushijima felt during the ride, and you’re changing your lockscreen to it.

It seems he isn’t familiar with the jarring spins, jerks, and dips that amusement park rides entail—you start to recall he may have mentioned he’d never been on one before, and that he was looking forward to experiencing new things on your date.

A sentiment he is surely taking back at the moment, though it does please you with a chest-encompassing warmth that he still followed along, toughing out the rollercoasters on your checklist.

You’re surprised he lasted through all the rides you completed without making his discomfort apparent, the sun’s already started setting and you’ve explored a majority of the park. You mentally scold and punch yourself for failing to recognize Ushijima’s unease sooner, you probably should’ve stopped at the fourth or fifth ride.

When you notice his brows are furrowed tighter than usual, a pang of sympathy envelops you. Before you can ask if he wants to grab water, or rest somewhere, his deep voice fills your ears,

“Can we...” Ushijima pauses, deliberating for a second, “Grab something to eat?” he blinks, expression neutral as ever.

You sense he’s actually asking for a break from the rollercoasters rather than craving for something, but he’s asking in a roundabout and not so subtle way. You’d already eaten fairly recently, after all. 

The method surprises you, considering he’s usually straightforward to a fault.

“Of course Wakatoshi,” you have to lean up to his height to wrap your arms around his neck, coaxing him into a soft kiss. 

He presses his lips to yours without hesitation, accepting the gesture. You take it in stride with a bright smile, corners of your lips turning up into the kiss. You almost giggle when you feel his long lashes brush against your delicate skin.

You suspect Ushijima didn’t want to hold you back from having a good time, which is probably the same reason he suffered through 6 rollercoasters with you, and as a result suggested an alternative for you to enjoy instead. Spinning death traps are not for everyone, you suppose, and you aren’t opposed to trying one of the myriad of dessert places you spotted earlier.

“I’m craving something sweet, actually. You can pick where we go!”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

Ushijima pulls back from your kiss, serious countenance making its comeback. 

From an outsider’s perspective, Ushijima probably seems like an aloof or indifferent boyfriend, but you knew better. It was his acts of service that enabled that sunny smile to cross your features, the way he wholeheartedly steps out of his comfort zone for you, how he’s learned to stray from his reserved habits in order to make things work. 

Ushijima links his hand with yours, and you feel as thrilled as the first time he did it. Initially, he never bothered with hand holding. It took a while for Ushijima to understand the domesticity of something simple, like holding hands, and how special it could be for you. When he figured it out, he made sure to interlock your hands more often, fingers laced together and held steadily at his side.

“Alright, this way then!”

You usher him along, tugging his palm gently to make way for the ice cream shop you had in mind. Ushijima accepts the change of direction as he walks in step with you (a difficult task for someone so tall, and you appreciate the sweet yet silent gesture). 

Walking along, weaving between couples and groups, Ushijima’s hand remains linked with yours. When you peek at him, your heart almost fully stops in your chest. 

He looks stunning. Every neon sign and coaster you pace by paints Ushijima’s features with the vivid shades of every color on the spectrum. 

The brilliant purples suit him best, but you think the crisp evergreens and hazy red glows are equally striking, illuminating his features so well. You didn’t think you could fall in love with him again and again so easily, but something as simple as the lighting in the area proves that theory wrong.

You whisk him away to your go-to dessert spot before he can catch you staring, eager to continue your amusement park date. On the other hand, Ushijima is just content to be close to you and away from the dizzying, literal head spinning rides.

 “Let’s share a sundae! This one has a lot of treats and candies that go on top... tons of whipped cream, edible sparkles, not to mention it’s huge too!” 

You gush, eyeballing the lurid stock photo picturing the absolute monstrosity of an ice cream sundae.

“Alright.”

Ushijima looks to be impartial to your request, relaying the order to your server. But his gaze is soft, at a complete loss for the harsh edges he naturally maintains. The subtle shift in his expression clues you in to his endearment for your ice cream enthusiasm, and you preen to yourself upon the realization.

 You know Ushijima is subject to being labeled as that indifferent, aloof, and stone faced boyfriend.

But to you, he doesn’t need a smile that’s a mile wide. You can clearly see the soft glow in his hazel eyes, the kind that usually accompanies a grin anyways.

He doesn’t have to be experienced at showing public displays of affection, when he practices the underrated gestures–always carrying your stuff, opening doors, walking closest to the road, matching your pace–which are equally as special. 

“I love you, Wakatoshi.”

And when you tell him you love him, you’re absolutely enamored as you’re caught up analyzing the little details his expression might give away. Your eyes flick across his features, as if you don’t already have every attribute and imperfection committed to memory and stamped onto your heart.

He doesn’t need to feel obligated to say it back immediately.

“I take it the sundae was good then?”

And he doesn’t, but you can see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

He doesn’t need to say I love you all the time, because you know he will when it counts. Late night haze, wrapped up in his arms in a safe space, smothered warmly by too many blankets. The moon’s glow dipping in passed the curtains and painting your cheeks with a lunar highlight, three words are whispered against the nape of your neck in spite of the comfortable silence.

 “I love you ‘toshi, and I love this sundae.”

But that won’t stop you from reminding him whenever you can, if only to see the faint cherry pink play at the apples of his cheeks, eyes pretending to find something of fake interest in the distance. And without fail, Ushijima Wakatoshi will smile handsomely at every declaration of love you make to him.

A/N: I wanted to play with more introspection and imagery, I hope it turned out alright! This is probably the first Ushijima fic I’ve written kadlg i hope you enjoyed iiiit

[masterlist] taglist: @thatoneoddgirl8​​

[quillvine]

Give

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Request: i’m back to haunt you with another request! blurb prompt #15 for hotch if the mood strikes 🥰

A/N: I don’t know what the vocabulary of a seven year old so I hope Jack comes off as realistic. Thank you @winterscaptain​ for such a wonderful request I had a lot of fun writing it.

Masterlist

You sigh as you rummage around your purse, how did you lose your keys again?

“Hey, Aaron have you seen my keys?” You ask.

You glance at Aaron who meets your eyes but then quickly looks away. You’re not really sure what has been up with him recently. He’s been in a strange mood ever since your anniversary dinner last week. But he’s been fidgety since the days leading up to your guys' anniversary too.

Honestly even Jack has been acting weird. You guys don’t normally bring Jack along for anniversary celebrations but you guys had decided that it would be nice to have some family time after many back to back cases. 

He had been so excited to go even though he usually moans and groans about how uncomfortable it is to wear nice clothes. But then all a sudden in the middle of dinner his mood had soured. By the time you guys got to dessert he had mellowed out, but he too had been in a weird funk ever since.

“Hrm, no, uhh have you checked your purse?” He questions.

“Yeah, it’s not there.” You tell him.

“Maybe in your jacket pocket?”

You walk over to coat hooks where your jacket hangs

In your pocket you don’t find your keys, instead, your fingers find something cold and round. Your fingers over smooth metal but they meet an obstacle that digs into your finger as you pull the object out of your pocket.

A ring.

Oh. Oh. It’s an engagement ring

“Who put this in my pocket?” You ask.

“What do you mean? Jack did you put-” Aaron pauses when he sees what’s in your hand.

“Oh, thank goodness I thought it was gone for good.”

Immediately he looks relieved, it’s like all the tension he’s been holding for the past weeks has just melted away. He scrambles to his feet and rushes towards you, grabbing the ring from your hand and planting a kiss on your lips.

Suddenly you realize that this must be why he has been so shifty ever since your anniversary dinner. He was going to propose but he lost the ring. It’s probably why Jack’s mood had changed all of a sudden you realized. He was excited to help Aaron propose but then found out the ring was missing.

Between finding the ring and your sudden revelations you barely have any time to register what is happening. All of a sudden Aaron’s lips are on yours and then the next thing you know he’s on one knee with your hand.

“Aaron, yes,” You tell him breathlessly.

He chuckles as you pull him up into a long deep kiss.

The gentle way Aaron’s hand is cradling your face is a harsh juxtaposition to the way he’s kissing you. But the brash movements of his lips and his tender hold tell you the same thing; he was scared you’d say no.

“I haven’t even asked you yet.” He tells you leaning closer to rub your nose with his.

“The answer is always yes.” You say.

He steals your breath away with another kiss. This time it’s soft and slow and makes your head spin. You’re so caught up the way his tongue brushes against you almost forget about the burning question in the back of your mind.

“Why didn't you tell me?” You ask breaking the kiss, “You could have proposed anyways, I would have been fine without the ring. Hell, I would have helped you look for it.”

“It was supposed to be perfect,” Aaron says, “I messed it up, you don't deserve a screw up like me.”

The sadness in his eyes tells you the truth. His insecurities really did get the better of him.

You pull away slightly, “It’s okay,” you tell him patting his chest gently, “as long as I have you everything will be okay.”

A loud crash makes you look upstairs. It’s Jack who has been peeking at the two, he must have bumped into the hallway table trying to get a better view. You’re glad you guys didn’t get too frisky just now.

“Daddy you said you wouldn’t ask her without me!” Jack exclaims as he runs down the stairs.

“Well, technically I haven’t asked her yet, come on buddy, let's ask her together.”

Aaron and Jack get down on one knee in front of you, Aaron holding the ring in his hand. They look at you expectantly with their matching brown eyes and wide grins.

“[Y/N], I think I always knew you were the one. I knew long before Jack started calling you mom, long before you told me you loved me, long before our first kiss.” Aaron says, “I think a part of me knew you were the one the very first day you walked into my office. Even if my conscious mind didn’t know, my subconscious mind definitely did.”

When you guys first met he was still grieving, Haley’s death still fresh in his mind. But you, the bright-eyed FBI recruit, the newest member of the team, was determined to help your new boss heal. So many people counted on him, sometimes he just needed someone to depend on.

Although you were never actively trying to get into his pants you were glad things turned out the way they did. Having a relationship with Aaron was easy, things just fell into place. Bringing a coffee and pastry to him in the mornings when he needed a little pick me up turned into a daily tradition, which turned into brunch dates on days off. Little trips to the park with Jack turned into weekend getaways to the beach.

Over time the three of you had formed a little family and then before you knew it Aaron was picking you up for dates and you were staying the night for some not so PG activities.

Aaron continues, “You were kind, you were gentle. You told me it was okay to take my time, it was okay to still be hurting because I would always have people to support me because you would always be there to support me. I love you.”

Jack nods in agreement, “Mom, I love it when you read me to sleep. I love it when we make cookies together. I love you.”

“You have given yourself to us fully without any complaints, so here we are giving ourselves to you,” Aaron tells you.

“[Y/N],”                       “Mom,”

“Will you marry us?”

“Yes!”

Tags (let me know if you want to be added): @winterscaptain​ @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @crying-river​ @yes-sir-hotchner

@genevievedarcygranger @ange-must-die @ogmilkis​ @saintd0lce​ I tagged you guys too, thought you might like it. Hope I didn’t overstep. If you don’t want to be tagged don’t be afraid to let me know.