#this is ''body language experts'' all over again

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 3]

The third time is... rather different.

Tim is standing still and prim in his new dress robes between both his parents, the shining and glittering ballroom full of soft chatter, music, and clanking glasses right behind him.

Daniel is standing in front of him, his back straight and his hair styled and gelled to the point where it looks like a beret on his head. He is wearing all white, pristine and perfect, and Mr. Masters, who is standing on his right, is dressed in a similar fashion. The man looks like a marble statue, if Tim is being honest, what with his pale skin, silvery hair and light blue, almost colorless eyes.

Tim hadn't paid attention to it before - to be fair, it's not like he had a chance to see Daniel up close until today - but the boy is also very pale. Not a hint of blush on his cheeks, no freckles or birthmarks that he can see. If Tim hadn't seen him move, he would have been certain he was looking at a porcelain doll, not a human being.

The other person accompanying them is a woman with short, cut just below her ears, ginger hair. And, unlike both Daniel and Mr. Masters, she is not as colorless, wearing a dress in light, shimmering blue, with a high laced collar and tight sleeves. She is smiling pleasantly at Mother as she greets her, keeping her hand on Daniel's shoulder, and, overall, looks a lot more alive than anyone Tim has so far met or seen tonight.

Which is nice. Tim didn't think that when people heard the name 'Winter Ball', they were meant to take it literally and show up acting like frozen sculptures.

The ginger-haired lady curtsies with a smile, and both Mr. Masters and Daniel nod before going past them and entering the ballroom of Drake manor. Tim glances over his shoulder - Daniel kept looking at him as if they've never met before, and Tim is not sure what to think of it - but the boy keeps walking after his chaperones without as much as acknowledging him.

It's only when Tim starts turning his head back that he sees the other boy shoot him a tiny grin over his shoulder.

Tim might not be an expert in body language or socializing, but even he knows that grin means nothing good for the guests at the Ball. Especially given Daniel's previous records. Tim bites back a smile of his own.

Good. This party can definitely use some elephant trunks, in his opinion.

~~~

Roughly an hour later, when Tim had long lost sight of the whole Masters family in the glittering crowd, and, to be honest, kind of forgot to anticipate whatever Daniel was going to do, the boy shows up in front of him again.

He appears from what seems to be thin air, out of breath but with his robes still perfectly white - Tim suspects some sort of spell - and cuts right in between Stephanie and Tim, grabbing the latter's wrist.

"Dance with me," he breathes out urgently, and Tim blinks. Daniel's fingers are cold as ice on his skin.

"What?" He asks, baffled, and Stephanie makes a loud, undignified snort, not bothering to cover her mouth. Daniel shoots her a quick surprised look, like he didn't even see her until she made a sound, but she just shakes her head and makes a tiny step away.

"I don't dance," she says, an innocent smile on her lips, and that's a lie, Tim knows she can dance, she did that not ten minutes ago. She just wants Tim to suffer, the blond traitor in an embroidered dress.

"Good, because I didn't invite you," Daniel smirks, tilting his head to the side, and it should sound like an insult, but somehow doesn't. Stephanie grins back. Tim has an awfully damning feeling like the two of them would get along like a house on fire, given half a chance. And he doesn't like that idea.

Merlin, when he wished for the ball to be a little bit more fun than it is, he didn't mean this. Not that he intends on stopping either of them, but he is pretty sure they are not allowed to join efforts because that will end with the ballroom in ruins. And Tim likes his house in one piece, thanks.

It's also quite irritating how the two of them can just exchange ten words with each other and become friends.

Tim twists his hand in Daniel's grip and grabs him, all but dragging the boy away from Stephanie and to the brightly lit dancefloor. He wanted to dance? Tim can dance, no problem. He bets he can dance ten times better than Daniel, he's had so many lessons.

The boy makes a short, surprised sound at the sudden movement, but then follows suit without a word. His hand is still cold. Maybe one of them should wear gloves.

"Why did you want to dance?" Tim asks, as they get to the edge of the crowd, where the glitter of jewels and the flurry of robes are making a complicated picture of waltz. Why did you ask me, Tim wants to ask, actually, but he is not sure he wants an answer.

Daniel pulls him back by their still joined hands, making Tim turn around, and puts his other hand on Tim's waist, like it's the most natural thing ever. Dancing, right. Tim puts his own hand on Daniel's shoulder and steps closer.

"Sam would actually murder me if I asked her, and I don't know anyone else," the boy explains with a careless shrug, tilting his head to the side and listening to the music. Tim sees his lips move but hears no words - counting the steps, no doubt.

"You don't even know my name," Tim rolls his eyes, and maybe he is a little petty, but he doesn't need to count steps. He just pulls Daniel into the dance, careful enough not to bump into anyone else. The boy follows his lead easily enough, even though he seems a lot more concentrated on where he puts his feet than Tim is. So, he is better at dancing. Nice to know.

"I do, you're Tim," Daniel tells him a few minutes later, when both of them are fairly confident they are not going to trip over each other's feet. Although Tim almost does anyway - he didn't expect that.

On the other hand, it's probably Samantha who told him. Mrs. Manson brought her over to Drake estate a few times but made sure not to invite Tim to Manson's. Probably in order to avoid the same daring escape to happen twice.

"And you're Daniel, but we were never introduced," he counters, "You're not supposed to know."

"That's a stupid rule," Daniel huffs and loses his footing slightly, stepping on Tim's toe, "Oh, sorry. And it's Danny, not Daniel. I hate 'Daniel'."

Tim rolls his eyes and is a little proud that it doesn't cause a single pause in his steps.

But then, there's a crackle up in the air above them, like a firework that went off too close to the ground, and that causes Tim to startle and almost trip over Danie- Danny. The boy's grip on his waist tightens as he keeps Tim from falling, and when Tim looks back up at him, Danny is grinning, wide and excited, and happy.

Just like he did back when they first met. Well, when Tim first saw him.

Which is kind of making Tim's stomach feel weird, but also can only mean one thing.

Tim looks up.

The chandeliers in the ballroom are all giant and lit with a thousand candles, and the patterns of countless mirrors on the ceiling and walls only make the lights seem endless. Not a starry sky, but a myriad of tiny suns thrown all over the high ceilings.

Another crackle follows the first one, and Tim sees a dozen of tiny explosions go off from the chandelier, shooting in all directions and turning into bursts of white, sparkling stardust that slowly fades in the air.

"Pretty, right?" Danny asks quietly as more and more little stars are born high above the crowd, filling the air with shimmering lights. Tim suddenly realizes that they've stopped dancing - and everyone else did, too - and his mouth is hanging open, because this is the prettiest thing he's ever seen, and he didn't expect Danny to do something beautiful. He expected a prank, a joke, something ridiculous like the elephant trunks or the escape on a broom, but this-

This is magic.

Tim can't look away, he doesn't want to look away, but he still tears his gaze from the ceiling and looks at Danny.

"How did you do it?" He asks, quiet enough so no one would hear them over all the fireworks. The boy shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes hold the reflection of all the sparkling stars above them.

"If I tell you, it won't be that fun," he says, smiling.

Tim doesn't ask again, instead looking back up to the ceiling full of exploding sparks.

It's the best party he's ever seen.

—☆—☆—☆—

Visuals that I might have spent too much time looking for:

And Tim's obligatory post-party drawings:

[Picrew]

Also, for the ambiance reasons, listen to the 'Once Upon a December' cover by Céline Lavigne.

—☆—☆—☆—

More random info on the characters:

Stephanie Brown is related to Lavender Brown, they are distant cousins, with Steph being a few years older. Her father is currently in Azkaban, and due to this fact, Steph and her mother are not often welcome in most social circles. They have a somewhat tense relationship with the rest of Brown family, but they are not ostracized, just generally frowned upon. Steph doesn't care much, though, you can break walls with her self-esteem. Her mother was a Hufflepuff, and she wants to be one as well.

Jack stayed home with Dani because she is too young to go through a whole ball without getting bored and stirring up some trouble. Danny was allowed to go under the condition that he won't ruin the evening, and he didn't! He made it better for all he knows! Malicious compliance, his favorite tool to use.

Later that evening the guests kept giving Jack and Janet Drake their compliments for the fireworks, and they both gladly accepted them, all while wondering who the fuck did that.

Neither Tim nor Vlad or Maddie, who knew who's at fault, said anything, although Maddie did ask Danny to never do that again without giving prior warning.

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

[hussyknee]

(alt included)

When this person dies I hope their hell is being stuck in a DMV queue, and when it's finally their turn a taciturn lady at the counter keeps snapping vague instructions at them and waving them away to a different queue. Forever.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Saving Genya from his big brother only to make out with Sanemi

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,9k

Synopsis: It was never an easy job, being the only one who's able to calm the wind hashira down. There was never more than respect and understanding between both of you. Until you bodly decided to stand up for Genya, until Sanemi finally reveals his true feelings...

Warnings: We're talking about Sanemi so language at violence lol, aggressive making out

I love love love Sanemi and I desperately hope you do as well hehe, enjoy and leave a comment/like/reblog <3

There he stands with his hot temper filling the air and his ruthless beatings torturing the poor souls in front of you. Hashira training never sounded like fun to you, especially when you consider who you’d have to deal with.

Sanemi Shinazugawa, especially.

“Get back up, brat. We’re not finished yet.”

You watch from afar as he hits the poor red-haired poor over and over again. Without any mercy, without the slightest hint of regret. And still, you can’t help but ponder about the way his arms flex and show every vein that decorates his skin. How he moves so effortlessly that your eyes are almost unable to follow. No, it’s not a secret that apart from being a madman, Sanemi Shinazugawa is hot as hell.

And your crush since you joined the demon slayer corps.

“Don’t you think that’s enough for today? The poor boy isn’t even able to stand up straight anymore”, you interfere when he’s about to hit him once again.

 "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the expert on disciplining. How about me fetching you a chair so you can supervise more comfortably?”

All pairs of eyes are set on you while you step towards the scene in death silence. Apart from everyone else, you aren’t here to train under Sanemi. No, you are a very capable demon slayer yourself, so good that you even managed to beat Mitsuri from time to time. You definetely don’t need Sanemi to train.

In fact, you are here because you’re the only one who is able to tame him apart from Kagaya-sama himself.

"Well, if you ask me so nicely, a chair actually doesn’t sound bad for the next time. Meanwhile, how about we wrap this up? Enough's enough."

Sanemi’s venomous eyes meet yours, tempting you to lose your cool. Within the past few months, you’ve learned how to act around him and that his actions don’t reflect his true feelings at all. Deep within, he is the most caring and compassionate person you’ve ever met, so tender that you’d simply melt away in his touch. He never failed to protect you even if not needed, always made sure you are save before looking out for himself. Damn, he even left his desert for you to eat.

But on the other hand, he’s very good at hiding that side of him.

“Fine. Call it quits for today then. But we two will have a talk later”, he finally mutters before turning around and disappearing without any trace.

Your heart skips a few beats before you’re able to think straight again. Oh, how much you adore him. Just the sheer thought of meeting him alone sends shivers down your spine even though nothing ever happened between you two. After all, you’re only here to look out for him, right?

“Thank you for standing up for me. Now you’ll get in trouble for helping me out”, the red-haired boy lying in front of your feet speaks out while dragging himself up.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I can handle him. Are you alright?”

In the matter of seconds, your eyes scan his body for serious injuries. Nothing, as you expected. Even though his training methods seem rough, he’d never allow himself to truly lay hands on another corps member. Not even him, Kamado Tanjiro. The boy who has what Sanemi always dreamed of.

“Yes, thanks to you. We really need a break after training day and night. Sorry, may I ask you for your name?

“My name is (y/n). Nice to finally meet you in person, Kamado Tanjiro.”

His eyes widen in an instant when you tell him your name. Even though you’re not a hashira, it seems like a lot of corps member know you. A decently skilled swordswoman, a trained doctor who made sure that no one ever died as long as you were around.

“The angel”, he breathes out.

“What an honor to meet you in person!”

In an instant, he gets on his knees and places his head on his flat palms. A pose of deep respect, so intimate that your cheeks heat up in an instant.

“Please, lift yourself off the ground. I don’t deserve your praise-“

“You deserve so much more than that!”, Tanjiro interrupts in an instant.

“Leave her alone. Can’t you see that you’re making her uncomfortable?”, another voice mutters from behind.

A very familiar voice you haven’t heard in quite some time, that makes your heart jump up and down in joy.

“Genya!”, you cry out.

You waste no time. In an instant, you lunge yourself at the now much taller boy and wrap your arms around him so tightly that he cannot escape. Oh, you really missed him. Even though Sanemi states over and over how much he hates his little brother, you always had a weak spot for him. Maybe because you’re able to see his soft side as well or because of the cute way he blushes when you look at him.

“Genya, are you alright? Your face is so red-“

“SHUT UP”, he barks at Tanjiro while you giggle to yourself.

“Why didn’t you send me a crow like I told you to? I was beyond worried about you. But oh I’m so proud. Did you really help to kill an upper moon demon and supported your friends?”

“Well I-“

“Yes he did! He was a big help for all of us!”, Tanjuro interferes immediately.

“(y/n), didn’t I tell you we need to talk?”, someone suddenly barks from the inside.

All color drains from Genya’s face immediately as he turns around with you.

There he stands with his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest, eyes almost piercing through you while the vein on his forehead threatens to pop any minute.

Your heart sinks in an instant. No, don’t let him control you like that, not when you know that he’s just…jealous?

“I needed to talk to Genya first”, you clarify.

“(y/n), please don’t-“

“Oh, is that so? Why would you even look at that trash?”

Thick anger rushes through your veins like the flood. If there’s one thing you hate about Sanemi’s attitude, it’s the way he talks about his little brother.

“I’m looking at you as well, don’t I?”

He flinches ever so slightly, his furrowed eyes now piercing through you like a thousand knives.

“Get inside. Right now.”

“Get some rest you two”, you quickly shout over your shoulder before you disappear into the house with a furious Sanemi by your side.

He slams the door shut behind you so rapidly that it rains plaster.

“What was that, huh?”, he speaks out with threatening low voice.

“I asked your little brother about his mission.”

He cages you between the wall with no way to escape, dangerous eyes locked with yours.

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“And I told you that I don’t care.”

“Why don’t you leave, then?”

“Because I’m the only one who’s able to tame you down”, you bite back.

He huffs in sheer annoyance while pushing himself off the wall. Why does he have to look so vulnerable and strong at the same time, so scary but also mesmerizing?

“You won’t force me to talk to him”, he finally speaks out.

“I want him to leave the corps and get as far away from me as possible.”

“Away from you or away from the danger?”

“I don’t care about him.”

“So you don’t care about me as well?”

Thick silence hangs between both of you while you stare at each other. To this day he never revealed how he truly feels about you. Does he hate you, respect you, love you? You might never know. But your influence on him speaks for itself.

“Go to sleep. We’ll get up early tomorrow.”

Without another word, he leaves you standing in a new wave of ponderings and emotions.

-a few hours later-

Your eyes dart open for no reason. Aimlessly, your orbs roam around the dark room, ears searching for a single sound.

Voices. Shouting. Blows.

Blows?

“Big brother?”

Your heart drops to the floor. That’s Genya. Why does the floor start to vibrate now?

Out of instinct, you yank out of your room, follow a wave of destruction until you finally get what’s going on.

There they stand. Genya with fright written all over his face and Sanemi with orbs so empty you’re almost able to see through them.

Your guts turn uncomfortably as he speeds forward so fast that your eyes are almost unable to follow. Fuck, is he about to pierce through Genya’s eyes?

You waste no time. In the matter of milliseconds, you drag Genya to the ground and therefore safe him from Sanemi’s merciless attack.

“Sanemi.”

You breathe out his name like a prayer.

“Get out of line, (y/n).”

“I can’t allow you to hurt him!”, you cry out, hands still holding onto Genya’s trembling body for dear life.

“You leave me no choice, then.”

It happens faster than you’re able to think. He dashes forward while grabbing the handle of his sword tightly, his eyes and blade darted towards you.

But you don’t even think about leaving Genya. No, you stand your ground in front of him, glossy orbs watching as his blade crashes down straight towards your face.

Until it stops.

“I said move”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“And I said I won’t. Leave Genya alone.”

“Are you really putting up a fight with me, (y/n)? Here, right in front of everyone else?”

You couldn’t care less about the stinging fact that the others are watching you drowned in fear. This goes too far without any doubt.

“You don’t have to do this, Sanemi. Not when we both know you love your little brother dearly”, you breathe out.

“Come on Genya, let’s leave”, Tanjiro’s voice mutters behind you, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

“I don’t love anyone. Not him, not you, I don’t give a shit about anyone around here”, Sanemi barks back at you with nothing but hatred spilling from his mouth.

Genya doesn’t deserve those words reaching his ear. But apart from that, you can’t escape the sting that fills your heart with agony.

Him, not loving anyone? Of course you never really expected the wind hashira to actually like you back. Of course even him respecting you is more than you could have ever asked for. But somehow you still hoped. Each and every night, you imagined what if would feel like to lay in his arms while listening to his steady heartbeat. Every free second, you pondered about how his lips must feel pressed against yours, how it feels to fall asleep and wake up next to him.

And now he tells you that you mean nothing to him.

You swallow hard, desperately trying to avoid his gaze at any cause. No, you can’t afford to lose yourself right here when everyone is watching.

Out of instinct, you straighten your shoulders and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“If that’s the case, I’m leaving. Good night, wind hashira.”

You don’t care about waiting for an answer. All you want to do right now is going back into your room, going back into safety where he’s not around. How stupid to even consider that Sanemi Shinazugawa could feel anything apart from a little respect for you. You, nothing but an ordinary slayer, still too weak to be called a real hashira. You, apparently nothing but a fool.

Hot tears start to swell up your eyes and cause your vision to get foggy. You never allowed yourself to cry over something so minor. What did you expect, a gut-wrenching love story? With the wind hashira?

“Why did you turn your back on me?”

You flinch so hard that you almost trip over your futon.

“What are you doing here?”, you cry out.

Fuck, this is him, without any doubt. What on earth is Sanemi doing in your room? Just now, when you’re looking like a mess.

“Are you crying?”

“Even if I do, why would you care?”

When your gaze drifts towards his, you feel like drowning and taking your first breath at the same time. He looks so distressed that your heart wrenches all over again. Like a lost puppy, he draws closer until he cages you against the wall. His eyes seem to stare right through your soul, make it hard to produce a single logical thought.

“Why would you even think that, idiot?”

His hand yanks your chin up, forces you to stare at him even more intensely.

“Because you said so yourself”, you bite back.

“You shouldn’t have interrupted me in the middle of teaching Genya a lesson.”

“Teaching him a lesson? You’re breaking that poor boy’s heart-“

“Breaking him? I’m saving him, goddamn!”, he blurts out so suddenly that you shake.

“Saving him? What are you t-“

“Poking his eyes out isn’t that big of a deal, he’d definitely survive. But his career at the demon slayer corps would have been over and out, he would have been saved”, he mumbles frantically.

“That would have meant he’s save, that would have meant he doesn’t die in this shit-“

“Sanemi”, your hands grab his face gently, try to get him out of his constant mumbling.

“He’ll die just like our mother did.”

“Sanemi.”

“I can’t fucking protect you all. Not when you’re around as well, not when you’re not listening just like he does-“

“Sanemi.”

When your eyes meet his, he looks like a troubled child scared of thunder. His glossy orbs stare at you desperately, make your heart ache all over again. All that rambling, giving Genya his coldest shoulder…to protect him?

“You’re just as reckless as him. Not looking out for yourself. What am I supposed to do without both of you around? What if I lose you two as well?”

“You won’t lose anyone, I’m good enough to-“

“How can you know?”, he screams into your face, his voice vibrating through every cell of your body like thunder.

“How can you promise you won’t die? One wrong move and you’re gonna bite the dust. Or you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time like Rengoku-“

It might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life, so reckless that you’ll lose Sanemi completely.

But you don’t care.

Before he’s able to talk about the grief within the past any further, you crash your lips against his while holding onto his face for dear life.

Over and over, again and again until your mind finally shuts up, until it’s only you and Sanemi and his puffy lips against yours.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you allow your knees to give in, bodies resting against each other so desperately that you feel like dreaming. Countless nights you pondered about the way his frame feels pressed against yours, what the wind hashira might taste like.

Oh, the reality is so much better, so good that you have to convince yourself you’re not dreaming.

“You’re driving me insane. Since the first time I saw you training with Obanai, since you beamed at me with that sickening gorgeous smile. I can’t escape you. I can’t fucking lose you”, he hisses against your mouth before entangling his tongue with yours all over again.

Sparks fly, stars take up your sight completely as you threaten to choke on all the affection and love that hits you with full force.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, you breathe out.

“And risking you’ll never talk to me again? You have to be out of your mind.”

“I’m out of my mind because of you. Because you make me feel all those strange things”, you puff out.

Faster than you’re able to react, he pulls his face away from yours enough to almost drown inside your glossy orbs. For a moment, all the does is staring at you as you desperately gasp for air with your chest rising and falling rapidly. This really happened. Did you really make out with the wind hashira after he tried to murder his little brother, after all the fighting and rambling of today?

“You’re my weakness, (y/n)”, he finally blurts out.

“And I hate that power you have over me. Especially that everyone else knows it.”

You tilt your head to the side. Oh, that’s so true. After all, this is the reason why you were sent here. You are here to make sure he doesn’t go too rough on his students, that his hot temper is kept at least a little cool.

Well, given the heat that radiates from him at this very moment, the last part definitely didn’t go as planned.

“They know about my feeling for you as well.”

His eyes widen while he stares you up and down in sheer disbelief.

“Stop fucking with me”, he grumbles.

“You were too blind to realize that I loved you for so long while I didn’t even think about the opportunity that you might like me back”, you admit with your cheeks turning as hot as the sun.

“You fool.”

He yanks your chin towards his face, a small smile decorating his usual so irritated face.

“I’ll definitely never let you go again now.”

His lips crash into yours and leave your mind blank all over again.

“But I’ll still kick your ass for talking to me so disrespectfully and interfering with Genya.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine (thank you sooo much for helping me creating reader for the cover)

[morhido]

Sighs. Okay yeah i have thoughts about cgi toothless.

First of all, why does he look so... slimy? He feels too smooth. Like they just stretched some scaly skin over a skeleton and let it walk around. Immediately offputting.

His body language is. Fine? Am i being nitpicky or does it seem just the tiniest bit less expressive? I'm guessing this is either the scene right after hiccup cuts him free, in which case he should be way more intimidating, or the fish-sharing scene, in which case he should feel a little friendlier and more curious around hiccup. It's a quick shot so i won't put a ton of expectations onto it, but i think it's worth noting.

Okay this is a legitimately cool detail though. He has a secondary eyelid!! You can see it slipping away when he opens his eyes. That's a detail exclusive to the books so i like that they included something as small as that.

Sighs again. And this is the shot that prompted me to make this post.

Look at the original, and then look at the cgi version. I could write an essay about how inferior the cgi version is in comparison.

First off, they flattened his face. I swear every iteration of night furies after the first movie has just been compressing their snouts until they're sufficiently 'cute' enough for the audience to forget they're supposed to be sleek and aerodynamic.

Second, his eyes. Absolutely radioactive. I understand using a brighter colour for his eyes, especially in a relatively darker environment to make him stand out and seem more fantastical. But. They're just so bright. It's mildly unsettling how saturated they are compared to everything else.

Third, his eyes. Again.

Toothless is supposed to be terrified but still threatening in this scene, and the original shot conveys that perfectly. If it's a threat, then by all means hiccup should kill it or at least run, but instead he draws a connection between both of them being scared of the other and decides to cut him loose instead. And that's the core of their relationship. Toothless is staring him down with a slitted pupil that could just as easily be interpreted as "fuck around and find out" but hiccup just acknowledges that there's a frightened, injured animal in front of him that needs help, and he helps.

Is any of that conveyed in the cgi version? No!! It's trying so hard to be cute that it's gone full circle back to just being scary. The wide-eyed stare, the dilated pupil, he's basically just saying "🥺🥺 uwu pwease i'm so cute and innocent don't kill me aha 👉👈". Which is a lot less of a compelling reason for hiccup to free him!! Plus the fact that toothless turns up to look at him instead of lying and accepting his fate like in the original, which only makes it seem even more like he's trying to show off how apparently adorable he is.

Idk. Just the difference between the in-your-face sanitised cuteness of "teehe you wouldn't kill little old me would you? 🥺" and the expert subtlety of his "please don't hurt me" of the original doesn't give me high hopes for a toothless that stays true to his character from the first movie. Even from something as small as this. He's gonna get woobified. I can feel it.

[inkedinshadows]

The Path To Healing

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: A glimpse into different moments of Azriel's life: from his childhood trauma to the physical healing, from his struggles and his acceptance to the beginning of his mental healing journey.

Warnings: angst, self-hate, self-consciousness, violence and blood, mentions of torture, language, fingering (brief)

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: I might or might not have cried while writing some parts of this. I focused only on Azriel's hands, and I'm sure I only scratched the surface of what his trauma is. I'm nowhere close to an expert on any of this, but I tried my best and hopefully did it justice. @azrielappreciationweek

Pain was all he knew.

His eyes hurt from crying, and he desperately wanted to rub them, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because his hands… His hands…

More tears poured down his already puffed cheeks, and his cries turned into a choked sound—sobs that tore through his chest and shook his little body, his wings a dead weight on his back.

“Shh,” his mother murmured, her voice soothing, her touch gentle as she cupped his face. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, baby.”

Azriel didn't know how to believe her. It seemed to him like nothing could ever be okay again. He couldn't feel his hands anymore—they had been replaced by a blinding pain that reached up to his elbows. All he could see when he looked down was a red splotch, too red to be normal.

When his father had heard his screams, he’d called the healers. By then, it was too late, and the damage was already done. But his father had merely given his half-brothers a disappointed look and dumped Azriel in his mother's care, as if he had become even more of a burden than before. He didn't know what he had done to deserve it.

His mom began to hum a lullaby, but Azriel could barely hear it over his sobs and whimpers. She took one of his shaking hands in hers as gently as she could, touching his marred skin when strictly necessary, but even that drew a shriek from him.

“I know, baby,” his mother whispered as she began wrapping his hand in new strips of clean fabric. “I know it hurts. But I need to bandage it so it can get better, okay?”

Azriel tried to hold back his cries of pain as she worked. He tried to focus on her face and the lullaby instead, but he kept praying through it all—to the Cauldron, to the Mother, to whoever was listening—that it would be over soon. Just like he had begged and prayed while his half-brothers had burned him, but no one had come then.

Now, though, his silent prayers were answered.

“There you go, my love,” his mom said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “All done. See? Does it hurt a bit less now?”

He looked down to find his hands covered in white linen. The tight bandages applied just enough pressure to reduce the pain, even if only by just a fraction. He met his mother's concerned gaze and nodded weakly, watching as the corner of her lips twitched upward. It didn't help much, though, and tears still streamed down his face.

“Come here,” she whispered, gathering his shaking body in her arms and holding him close to her chest. “My precious boy. You'll get through this, Az. I promise.”

Azriel buried his face in her neck and cried until he was too exhausted to do even that. But his mom never stopped singing him an old Illyrian lullaby, rocking him back and forth as if he were a newborn baby.

She kept going long after he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Azriel was staring at his hands, at the ridges of his new scars. He knew he should be practicing, but he could only stare.

“What is it, sweetie?”

His mother came up beside him. His father had allowed her to see him a bit more over the last few months, not wanting to spend money on healers more than once every other week when they came to check on him and his progress.

Azriel turned his hands over, now looking at the backs of them. He still wasn’t used to seeing them like this. How much time had he spent looking at them? During those long hours in his cell with no light, he had thought about them endlessly.

Sometimes, he could swear the darkness whispered in his ear, soothing his mind until he finally fell asleep.

“They're ugly,” he said. His voice was flat, as if he was simply stating a fact. Because that's what they were to him—ugly, ruined, useless. Always shaking and itching.

His mother's soft hands enveloped his smaller ones in a gentle hold. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, meeting her tender, reassuring gaze. Even at his young age, he knew she loved him. His stepmother never looked at him like that, on the rare occasions she even bothered to acknowledge his existence.

“Your hands are not ugly, my child,” his mom assured him. Her tone was calm, but there was a new resolution etched onto her features. “They've just been through a lot.”

Azriel shook his head. “They're ugly,” he insisted. “No one else has hands that look like this. They're full of scars and cuts and…”

His voice trailed off as his mom extended her wings behind her. A twinge of pain crossed her face, and she could only unfold them a few inches, but it was enough for Azriel to see the twin long scars running down their length. He didn't know how she got them, but she once told him she couldn't fly because of them. He’d felt an odd sense of relief at that, knowing his mom couldn't fly either—that her blood, like his, urged her to take off and roam the skies, yet neither of them could.

“Do you think my wings are ugly, Az?” she asked. She still spoke with that soft tone, but it was now tinged with firmness.

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No,” he answered. “No, they're not ugly.”

“But they have scars. They're ruined and useless.” How had she known those were the words he used for his own hands? Had he said them out loud? “What are wings for, if not for flying? Yet I can't fly anymore.”

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. “Mom, no,” he said, decisive and unyielding. “Your wings are beautiful. You're beautiful.”

Her face softened, a smile blooming on her lips as she gently squeezed his hands. “Then your hands are beautiful too.” She lifted them to her lips, kissing each one. “Think of them not as reminders of pain, but of strength. You've suffered a lot, but you're stronger. You're healing. And one day, it won't even hurt anymore.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. “Is it really like that?”

“Of course, baby,” she reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.

He knew she was lying. He saw the pain on her face when she moved her wings. They still hurt sometimes. But he believed her anyway, because he needed to.

His mother let go of his hands and picked up the pen he had discarded just a few minutes ago. “Do you think you can practice a little longer?”

Azriel didn't want to. His fingers had gone stiff earlier, the constant itching even stronger now. But he didn't want his hands to be useless, so he took the pen from her.

Almost two sheets of paper were covered with just one word, repeated over and over. His own name. Easy enough to write, yet the letters were crooked and shaky, the ink smeared where his hand had accidentally trailed over it.

With a sigh, Azriel set the pen on the paper and tried his best to keep his hand steady as he resumed the exercise.

~~~~~~

Azriel really wanted to get laid.

There was no other way to say it. Every time he heard Cassian and Rhysand talk about a new girl they had slept with, he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to experience it too—to know what it felt like to have that kind of connection with someone and not have to resort to his own hand whenever he couldn't ignore his need.

But he had always been too shy to approach the pretty girls his brothers chatted up so easily. His hands did nothing to help his confidence.

Tonight, though, was bonfire night. Organized twice a year, it was held on the Spring and Autumn Equinox to celebrate the new season. And this year, Azriel had every intention of going home with a girl.

His brothers were laughing and pushing each other as they walked through the muddy streets of Windhaven. He wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying—something about their earlier fight during training. No, Azriel’s mind was already focused on his plan.

He would keep a safe distance from the fire, where no incidents could happen. But he would scan the crowd of Illyrians for a female who caught his interest, and when he found her, he would approach her, talk a little, and then ask if she wanted to go somewhere more private.

Simple enough.

He was a warrior in training, after all. He had seven Siphons. He was a Shadowsinger.

He had nothing to fear from interacting with girls.

Yet, he couldn't recall the last time he’d started a conversation with a female. In the ten years he'd been at Windhaven, it had probably happened only with Rhys's mother. But she didn't count.

Someone bumped into Azriel, and, lost in his thoughts as he was, he almost fell to the ground. He managed to flare his wings to steady himself, glaring at Cassian as he regained his balance.

“Sorry about that,” Cassian said, though his snicker didn't make him sound particularly sincere. “I've been talking to you for two minutes, but you didn't hear a single word. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbled, folding his wings behind him again. “Maybe you're just not worth listening to.”

Cassian gasped audibly, clutching his chest in mock heartache as a group of children sprinted by, headed for the square where the first booms of laughter and echoes of chattering rang out.

“Don't worry, Az,” Rhys chimed in before their brother could come up with a retort. “You'll get your first taste of sex tonight.”

Azriel shrugged off the hand Rhysand had placed on his shoulder. “Don't look in my mind,” he nearly growled, checking his mental shields just to be sure.

Both his brothers halted their steps and stared at him, twin shit-eating grins on their faces.

“I didn't,” Rhys said. “But thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

Cassian nudged him with an elbow, already teasing him about girls and first times and wingspans. With a snort, Azriel shoved him away and continued toward the bonfire, leaving the other two behind to push each other around, their chuckles chasing him down the street.

How they had guessed what he was up to, he didn't know. He’d been careful not to tell them, knowing their reaction would consist of snickers and jabs that he was in no mood for.

As he turned the corner, the square came into view. Just like every year, the bonfire stood in its center, rising several feet high and adorned with little homemade trinkets meant to bring good luck and a prosperous season when burned.

They would light it soon.

The square was already packed with people when Azriel reached it. Children ran around chasing each other, their laughs and screams echoing into the night. Warriors gathered in small groups, swords on their back and knives at their thighs or hips, not letting their guard down even during a festivity.

And then there were the females. Most sat together in a corner, chatting idly and glancing at the children from time to time. But some of them—the younger ones, the ones around Azriel's age—strolled in groups of two or three.

How was he supposed to approach them if they were always together? It was difficult enough when they were alone.

Azriel spotted Cassian and Rhys from the corner of his eye and moved deeper into the crowd, choosing to stand on the opposite side of the square from them. The last thing he needed was for his brothers to make fun of him.

Someone shouted a warning, and a moment later, the pyre was lit. Azriel flinched as flames erupted, pressing himself closer to the wall behind him. Even from this distance, he could feel the heat of the fire, warming his skin and casting a flickering glow all around.

He shut it out. He shut out the memory of what fire could do to flesh, the smell of burned skin, the screams and cries of a terrified eight-year-old boy. The shadows suddenly swirled around him, brushing against his arms and neck.

Past. Gone. Gone. Just memories.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, letting the truth they whispered calm his racing heart.

He sensed the girl before even the darkness could murmur of her approach.

He let his shoulders slump a little and slid his hands into his pockets, assuming a more casual stance. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him from a few feet away. Her head snapped around to stare at the bonfire as soon as she realized she'd been caught staring.

Azriel couldn't suppress his smirk. He had grown accustomed to females looking his way from the moment he’d hit puberty, but it still made him feel smug every time. Never mind that they didn't approach him—or that he never approached them.

But now, though. Now he would.

Taking one last deep breath, he took a nervous step toward her. And then another. She glanced in his direction, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, but one more step and Azriel was standing in front of her.

A few inches shorter than him, she didn't back away, her big brown eyes meeting his hazel ones. Her delicate face was framed by strands of wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders, and he stopped himself before his eyes could travel downward to the curves shaping her slim body. She was pretty. Beautiful, even.

“Hi,” he said, attempting a smile. He wasn't sure it looked right.

The girl offered a small smile back. “I'm, uh… I didn't mean to stare. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It's alright.”

For a brief, awkward moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. Then Azriel realized she was waiting for him to say something more. Right.

“What's your name?” he finally asked, silently thanking the little shadow that had curled around his ear to whisper the suggestion.

“I'm Teagan.” The girl's smile widened. “And you're Azriel.”

Caught off guard, he blinked. “You know me?”

Teagan chuckled, a clear and crystalline sound that eased some of the tension in Azriel's body.

Some of it.

“I've seen you around,” she answered with a shrug. Firelight danced on her features. “There aren't many Shadowsingers here, you know. None, in fact. You're one of a kind.”

Her initial shyness seemed completely gone now. Good. That made one of them, at least. Because if her words were meant as flattery, they didn't work. Instead, they only made Azriel more nervous.

What if she had expectations? What if she started asking questions about his powers? What if she would be disappointed now that she was talking to him? What if she—

Azriel cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind at the same time. “Thank you,” he said.

Too stiff. Too short. Not an acceptable answer. But he didn't know what else to say. How was he supposed to talk to a girl when he’d barely had any social interaction for the first eleven years of his life?

But Teagan must have found his awkwardness endearing, because she smiled, amusement shining in her eyes. “Aren't you going to offer me some food?”

A blush crept up his cheeks as he glanced over to the few tables laid with food in one corner of the square. People were already gathering around them and filling their dishes. Cassian was there too, shamelessly flirting with a girl whose hands were already wandering over his chest.

Azriel turned back to Teagan and nodded, a shy smile forming on his face. “I am, actually.” He cleared his throat—as if it could help him sound more confident—then gestured to the tables with his head. His hands remained buried in the pockets of his coat. “Would you like to get some food?”

It came out too formal, and his posture was too rigid. And simply nodding toward the tables? Rude. How could Rhys do this so smoothly? How could Cassian be so bold and smug?

Teagan chuckled again, though. She looped her arm through Azriel's and steered him toward the food. “You've never done this before, have you?”

He almost choked. It was worse than he'd feared, then.

“No, not really… I…” His voice trailed off, and he had no idea how to recover.

She leaned in closer as they walked, and Azriel became acutely aware of just how close she was. Her body pressed against his side, and he could feel her breath on his neck now. He wanted to take her hand, or maybe even slide his arm around her waist. If only he had worn gloves, maybe he would have dared. Though he'd need to find the courage first.

“Am I the first girl you try to flirt with?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Try. Not just flirt, but try to flirt. He was failing so miserably. Maybe he should just give up and leave.

Azriel could only nod, his face a deeper shade of red than Cassian’s siphons.

“I think it's cute,” Teagan said, her big smile lighting up her pretty face. “I'm glad you chose me to be your first.”

If only she knew what kind of first Azriel hoped she would be… but judging by how things were going, he suspected they wouldn’t get that far.

“I… don't really know what I'm doing,” he admitted, unsure why he was even saying that. It probably wasn't a smart move to reveal it, but it was too late to take it back.

As they weaved through the crowd, Teagan stepped even closer to him, and in doing so, her wing brushed against Azriel’s. They both gasped, and though she smiled sheepishly, he didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I just wanted to be closer to you. I really think you're cute. And I appreciate your honesty.”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still salvage this, maybe, so that his first interaction with a girl wouldn’t be a total failure.

As they stopped in front of the tables, he stepped back slightly to face her. “I think you’re cute too,” he said, meeting her gaze. He did his best not to sound shy or awkward. “You're very pretty.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He was about to offer her some food when a group of kids suddenly weaved through the crowd and ran by. Azriel heard them coming and tucked his wings tightly, but Teagan either noticed them too late or couldn't fold her clipped wings any further.

The children bumped into her as they sprinted past, and she sucked in a sharp breath when one of them brushed her wing. Azriel was quick to grab her elbow to steady her, and something fluttered in his chest when she smiled in thanks. But then her gaze moved to his hand, still on her arm, and her eyes widened—in horror or shock, he couldn't tell.

He pulled his hand back as fast as he could, tucking it back into his pocket.

Too late.

Teagan swallowed, and the silence that stretched between them hit Azriel as painfully as a punch to the jaw.

“So,” he said eventually, feeling beyond awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What kind of food would—”

“I'm sorry,” she interrupted, already taking a small step back. Her eyes darted to the pocket where he’d hidden his hand before looking at him again. No warmth shone in them now. “But I forgot I had to… do something very important with my friend. Maybe another time.”

Azriel stood there, watching her turn and walk away without another glance. The rejection left him reeling. His mother could say whatever she wanted about his scars not being ugly or horrifying, but he now knew better than to believe her.

His hands balled into fists, and he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Without bothering to inform his brothers—who were probably on their way to sleep with yet another girl, since their hands were perfectly normal and unscarred—Azriel left the square. He put a few buildings between himself and the ongoing festivities before taking off to the skies.

He didn't return until long after the sun had set over the horizon.

~~~~~~

Azriel wished he could say he felt at least a bit bad for his half-brothers as Rhys and Cass threw punch after punch at their jaw and stomach. But all he felt while watching the scene unfold was a deep sense of satisfaction, which only grew with every new groan.

When Rhys had told him he needed to talk to his father for court matters, Azriel had refused to go. He had no interest in seeing his father or the rest of his family again, and Rhys had understood, asking Cassian to accompany him instead.

But Azriel had followed them. There was no reason for Cass to be there too, not when he was no good at playing courtier. He doubted Rhysand's father had told him to bring Cassian along.

Hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room, Azriel watched in silence as his brothers—his real ones, the only ones who mattered, as far as he was concerned—landed blow after blow. He knew now this was the real reason they'd come here.

Cassian had been itching for a fight from the moment they arrived and he didn't do a good job at hiding it. Azriel wasn't sure Cassian even tried to hide it. Rhys looked more composed, the perfect picture of the future High Lord dealing with minor problems of his Court. But as soon as Azriel's father had left, both of them had turned to his half-brothers with pure rage in their eyes.

One of them had been either bold or stupid enough to smirk. “How's our bastard brother doing?”

Rhysand and Cassian had both snapped. Despite being a few years older, his half-brothers didn't stand a chance. A warm feeling of affection was the only thing filling his chest as Azriel watched the two Illyrians who had taken him in, taught him how to fly, and showed him what a real family looked like, beat the shit out of whom was supposed to be his actual family.

He didn't make a sound, using his shadows to conceal even his scent. They were all too busy to pick up on it, even more so now that the metallic scent of blood filled the air, but he preferred to be careful.

Azriel didn't know exactly how much time had passed when Rhys and Cass finally relented, their chests heaving and their knuckles smeared with red. They straightened their backs, Cassian’s wings still spread in a fighting stance. Rhys, on the other hand, looked more relaxed, but his cold expression betrayed him.

“Don't you dare speak of him like that again,” Cassian snarled. His voice was just slightly breathless despite the beating he'd just given. “Especially after what you did to him.”

Azriel fought the urge to look down at his scarred hands. Being back in his father's keep was enough to stir memories he had long tried to forget. Instead, he focused on his brothers, on how much they must love him to risk hurting and threatening the sons of an Illyrian lord because of what they'd done to him.

Rhys exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian, and they turned to leave, abandoning his half-brothers on the floor. But they stood with a groan, battered and bloodied, still as arrogant as before. If not more so, now that they needed to make up for their bruised ego after being beaten so easily by a half-Illyrian and a low-born bastard.

One of them, the oldest, flared his wings as if trying to appear more intimidating. “He deserved it,” he spat.

Azriel had to stop himself from lunging forward and burying his own fist in his half-brother's stomach. He wanted to make him understand, to wave his hands in front of his face and yell at him. See this? This is what you did to me. I was eight! How could I have deserved it?

But he remained still, standing in the corner with his hands balled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.

Rhysand held back Cassian as he tried to pounce on Azriel’s half-brothers. Cassian looked outraged, as if he couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't allowed to fight. But Azriel could see the expression on Rhys's face and knew his brother had something different in mind.

“You think Azriel deserved it?” he asked, his voice unnervingly calm. He looked a lot like his father now—aware that he didn't need to raise his voice or his fists for people to obey.

“Well, fortunately for you, I can't show you exactly what I think you two deserve,” Rhys continued, slowly slipping his hands into his pockets. “But I can at least give you a taste of it.”

Before anyone could move, a crack pierced the air, immediately followed by a sharp cry of pain as his half-brothers both collapsed to the ground once more. Their legs lay beneath them at strange angles, the bone of one protruding where it had pierced the skin. The scent of blood grew stronger as the white tiles turned red.

His mother would have disapproved, Azriel knew that. She believed vengeance should not be sought out, and that living well in spite of what had happened was more than enough. Perhaps she was right, and Azriel was as bad and cruel as his half-brothers, after all. But as he stood there, watching them bleed and whine and scream for a healer who didn't come, all he felt was a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that they now felt a fraction of the helplessness he had felt when they burned him.

Cassian crossed his arms, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Stop crying, boys,” he taunted. “It's not like you won't heal.”

The corner of Rhys's lips curled into a smirk. “I put a shield around the room. No one can hear you or smell the blood. I think I'll leave it in place and let you crawl out to ask for help.”

With a glance to Cassian, Rhys gestured toward the door in a silent command, and they walked out without sparing the two Illyrians another glance.

But Azriel stayed a few more moments. Just long enough to see his half-brothers try to rise, fail miserably, and fall back on the floor. When they began to crawl, using their hands to drag themselves across the floor, smearing their blood over the tiles and their clothes, Azriel smiled.

He didn't care if they were spouting insults at him and his brothers. He didn't care what kind of person that made him. The sight of his half-brothers crawling and bleeding delighted him.

With one last look at them, Azriel winnowed away, his heart full of love for the two brothers the Cauldron had blessed him with.

~~~~~~

It felt like centuries had passed since Azriel had last been this nervous around a girl. It had likely been over a hundred years, if not more, since he couldn't recall the last time he went on a date. Even longer since he’d had a genuine crush. Normally, he just approached girls, or they approached him, and things quickly escalated into a night of sex. But it was nothing more than that—just fucking.

With you, it was different.

He met you a couple of weeks ago when he walked into your little bookstore to buy a present for Nesta's birthday. You were so nice and radiant that he couldn't stop thinking about you, and he lost count of how many times he came, buying books he didn't need and asking for recommendations only to listen to you talk. And then he had finally asked you out, and your smile had lit up the whole shop as you said yes.

He was standing on the other side of the street, watching as you closed up the store for the day. Your dress flew around your legs in the evening breeze, and your hair was styled in a simple bun on your head.

Azriel smiled as you crossed the street. As usual, he had to hold back his shadows as they swirled excitedly around him. “You look lovely,” he said when you stopped in front of him.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, lowering your gaze for a second before looking at him with a smile. “You're not too bad either.”

He chuckled softly. “Thank you.” Offering his arm, he gestured to the street. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, and together you strolled along the Sidra, your steps unhurried.

Conversation flowed easily, and Azriel relaxed more as you talked about everything from your job to his preference for flying over winnowing. His shadows, which had lingered around his wings, vanished completely. But then you got to the little restaurant where he had reserved a table, and he grew nervous once more.

Even with your arms linked, your focus never drifted to his hands during the walk. Your eyes were either on him or your surroundings, making it easy to forget his marred skin.

Until you sat across from him and the food arrived. There was no way now you wouldn't notice his scars, which normally wasn't a problem—he'd stopped caring about strangers' opinions years ago. But you weren't a stranger, and you weren't just another girl he wanted to fuck.

You were sweet and beautiful, and he was drawn to you in a way he hadn't experienced in decades. He didn't want you to run away from him.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken you out to dinner on the first date, because now it was probably going to be the last one too.

Yet you didn't stare at his hands. You acted as if everything was normal, never commenting or asking what had happened to him. You carried on the conversation just like before, and when Azriel, hiding his distress behind a carefully crafted mask, asked you about a theater play you'd just mentioned, you launched into a passionate description of its plot and themes. His uneasiness slowly faded as he watched your eyes light up. You leaned closer over the table, so engaged in your story that Azriel found himself smiling and nodding along, only half listening, his worries about his hands momentarily forgotten.

Your voice suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, and you leaned back in your chair, tilting your head to the side. “What?” you asked with a soft smile. Before he could answer, you tensed and added, “I've done it again, haven't I? Rambling on about something you don't care about.”

Azriel shook his head, his hand itching to reach across the table and brush yours, though he held back. “Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “I do care. I asked you that question. You just had that look on your face.”

Your brow furrowed. “What look?”

“The one you have when you talk about something you like,” he answered, watching your expression grow confused for a second. “You have it when you talk about books too.”

You were quiet for a moment, and then your eyes narrowed slightly. “Azriel,” you said slowly, but your lips twitched up in a smirk. “Did you ask for all those recommendations just to hear me talk?”

“Maybe,” he conceded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. His heart fluttered as your eyes met, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

He’d forgotten having a crush could feel like this—like being a boy again. Only now he knew what to do.

He’d never been much of a talker, preferring to listen and chime in occasionally, but with you, it was easy. You had your own way of involving him, asking questions or simply waiting for him to share his thoughts. Even though you barely paused, Azriel never felt like you were hogging the attention. On the contrary, you made him more at ease.

After you left the restaurant, you went strolling through the streets of Velaris. Azriel was just about to answer your question about how fast, exactly, an Illyrian could fly when you let out a delighted squeal, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward a small bakery.

“Oh, I was waiting for this place to open!” You stopped in front of the window with a dreamy sigh before turning to look up at him. “I forgot it was today. Can we go in? Please, tell me you like pastries!”

Your enthusiasm was endearing, but Azriel couldn’t help glancing down at your hand still holding his larger, scarred one. You didn't seem to notice—or if you did, you didn’t care.

Your grip loosened slightly as you noticed the shift in his attention, but you didn't let go. “Sorry,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his face. “I got a bit carried away. Is this alright?”

He wasn't sure what to say. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. That you had grabbed his hand without thinking was enough to leave him speechless, but what you were asking now… it wasn’t just that you weren't bothered by his scars. It was that you wanted to keep holding his hand. Azriel couldn't wrap his mind around it.

You probably misunderstood his silence because you started to pull back. He immediately held your hand tighter, gently squeezing it, as if to silently reassure you. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “I’m just…” Not used to it. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“I caught the spymaster off guard?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Do we need to inform the High Lord?” 

Azriel shook his head with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you before he gestured toward the bakery. “Would you still like those pastries?”

Your eyes lit up, and Azriel made a mental note of how much you liked sweets. “Oh, yes, please!”

“Then let’s get you some, shall we?”

You walked past him as he held the door open for you, a grateful smile lighting up your face. Your hand remained entwined with his, and for once, Azriel didn’t feel the need to hide it.

You did not let go until he walked you home and you closed the front door behind you, and Azriel had never felt such lightness as he flew back to the House of Wind.

~~~~~~

Azriel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands with a grimace on his face.

Someone had tried to infiltrate Velaris, likely sent from the Hewn City, and Azriel had been called to find out why. He could still recall the blood and the pleading whimpers. But in the end, he got the information he wanted. He always did.

At a cost.

He had long since learned to keep a cold expression, even in the face of the suffering he caused. He was used to it after centuries, and as long as it kept his city and family safe, he didn't care how cruel he had to become. Maybe it made him a horrible person, but his soul wasn't the cost.

The cost was his hands.

Even after all this time, being in the cells beneath the Hewn City was like being back in the cell in his father's mansion. He had to shut down every part of him that felt, bury those memories deep down in his mind, and remind himself that he wasn't a helpless child anymore.

He was a five-hundred-year-old warrior, and he had a job to do.

But once the job was done, and Rhys decided how to deal with the prisoner and the consequences, Azriel would go back to his room knowing he didn't have much time.

He would wash his bloodied hands, though he knew no matter how much he washed, he could never cleanse them completely. He had five centuries worth of blood on them. After they were clean, if he was lucky, like today, he had time to peel off his leathers before the inevitable happened.

The pain.

No matter how many times he’d been in those dungeons, no matter how many years had passed since he’d last been locked in his father’s cell, he still didn’t know how to stop the pain from returning.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first few times, and it was nothing compared to what he had felt while his hands were being burned and in the days after. But Azriel still gritted his teeth, a low hiss escaping from him.

He tried clenching them into fists, but the relief lasted only a few seconds before he had to relax them again. His fingers were stiff as he reached for the drawer, a fresh surge of stinging pain hitting him when he pulled it open. Shadows dove in before he could and quickly whisked up a small jar of white cream. They undid the lid, and Azriel felt grateful for the dark companions that had never once left his side now more than ever.

Willing his hands to cooperate, he scooped up some of the soothing balm a healer had made for him. It always took a little while for its effect to show, but pain was an old friend he had learned to live with.

The herbal scent filled the room as Azriel did his best to spread the balm over every inch of his hands, trying to ignore the stinging itch. Scratching would only make it worse, reddening his already scarred skin until it threatened to bleed again.

He shifted to lie on the bed, wings spread beneath him. He just had to endure the ache for a few more minutes before the balm took effect, and then he could try to sleep. He needed some rest after such a long day, if only to have a clear mind when he met you the next afternoon.

As his shadows hummed in his ear the Illyrian lullaby his mother used to sing him as a child, Azriel let his eyes drift close, flexing his aching fingers every few seconds, hoping for a faster relief.

~~~~~~

Things moved slowly with you.

Neither of you wanted to rush into anything and potentially ruin what you both knew could be the beginning of something great.

You went on several dates, and some ended with him spending the night at your apartment, snuggled up in your bed, which was too small for an Illyrian. Azriel didn’t care as long as he got to fall asleep with you in his arms.

But things had never gone this far.

When he came to your bookshop earlier, he had only planned to walk you home. You were tired from a long day dealing with customers, and he had to wake up early the next morning to leave for Illyria for a few days. Maybe it was the thought of not seeing you—even if only for a week—or the fact that you looked stunning in your simple dress, with strands of hair escaping from your messy bun. Whatever it was, Azriel wanted you. He needed you.

His lips parted from yours, both of you already breathing heavily. “I don't want to go home,” he murmured, his hands on your hips, twisting the thin fabric of your dress, wishing it weren't there.

“What do you want to do then?” you asked, amusement clear in your eyes. But there was desire there too, mirroring his own.

“I want to take off your dress,” he whispered, his fingers already moving to the straps on your shoulders. “Will you let me?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Take it off.”

With deft fingers, he slid the straps down your arms, and the fabric slipped off your body, pooling around your feet. You stepped out of it, and Azriel swallowed at the sight of you clad only in your cream underwear.

“If I had known we'd be doing this, I would have worn something more enticing,” you said quietly. There was no shyness or embarrassment in your voice, as if you were simply stating a fact. You did have a point—your lingerie was simple, something you wore every day. It didn't matter to Azriel.

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “You don't need to,” he murmured. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to kiss you tenderly. “You're always stunning, sweetheart, no matter what you wear.”

You hummed, a smile playing on your lips. “Now I want to know what you think when I'm not wearing anything.”

Azriel chuckled, even as desire coiled in his groin. A part of him wanted to toss you on the bed and fuck you senseless. But most of all, he wanted to take his time exploring your body, finding every spot that made you squirm and sigh. Only after he'd thoroughly tasted you would he bury himself inside you.

“Let's find out,” he replied with a smirk, already knowing that, no matter what, you'd always be perfect in his eyes.

He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, and as he tossed it on the chair, he felt himself harden. Your breasts were full and supple, your pink nipples so inviting that he wanted to wrap his lips around them. Yet as he lifted a hand to touch you, he hesitated.

The stark contrast between your soft, smooth skin and his scarred fingers made him pause. He had touched you before, but never so intimately. How could he do that? His hands had so much blood on them. With how they looked, it felt only fitting he would use them for horrible things—to hurt people. Not to touch the wonderful girl he was falling for. How could he be so selfish as to sully you like that? You deserved so much better than him. Someone who didn’t torture and kill for a living, who didn’t have a dark past still haunting him.

Someone good.

He took a step back, lowering his hand.

“Azriel,” you called gently. There was no sign of judgment or disappointment in your voice. You just wanted him to look at you.

Slowly, his eyes met yours. To his astonishment, a soft smile bloomed on your lips.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, taking his hands in yours. He fought the urge to pull away. “You can touch me. I want you to touch me.”

He wanted to. More than anything. He wished he could.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“Why?”

How could he explain? He never told you what had happened to him. He didn’t want you to pity him or, even worse, to drive you away. Selfishly, he wanted to keep you in his life.

When he didn’t answer, your fingers slid around his wrists. Neither of you spoke as you lifted his hands to your mouth and kissed each scarred palm. Azriel’s throat worked, his heart pounding in his chest. Without a word, you placed his hands on your breasts. You let go of his wrists, giving him the freedom to pull away if he wanted to. But your eyes never left his, and that soft smile never faltered.

Azriel swallowed hard. For a moment, he just stood there, not pulling away but not moving either. Your face was open and serene, as if his scars didn’t bother you, even now that they were touching such an intimate part of your body.

Seeing you like this, so calm and accepting, so soft and warm under his palms… his thumbs moved, brushing over your nipples. You shivered, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing it again, feeling the small buds harden under his touch.

As if sensing his impending question, you nodded slightly. “You can touch me, Az.”

Though he knew it was wrong and still didn’t understand how you could want his bloodied, scarred hands on you, he gave you what you wanted—what you both wanted.

He slid one hand behind your neck, pulling you closer and kissing you again. The other remained on your breast, kneading the soft flesh, savoring every small sigh that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss until Azriel’s control hung only by a thin thread.

When you pulled back, you didn’t give him time to lower his mouth to your neck. You grasped his hand, gently moving it away from your chest, and a wave of fear tightened in Azriel’s stomach. You had changed your mind. Of course you had. He should have seen it coming.

But instead of stepping away, you guided his hand down. Between your legs.

His breath caught as his fingers brushed against your panties, feeling the already damp fabric beneath his touch.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “Are you sure?”

You were smiling again. “Yes. Please, Az.”

He didn’t know how to say no. He knew he should have, that he was unworthy of touching someone so pure and lovely. But you had already pushed the fabric aside, and he groaned as your slick arousal coated his fingertips. Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers found your clit, drawing a soft moan from you.

The thin thread holding his control snapped at the sound, and Azriel let himself give in.

He pulled you closer, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers explored what they shouldn’t. At the first sign of hesitation or revulsion, he was ready to stop. But pleasure was the only emotion etched across your face, and he could see the desire for more burning in your eyes. Yet you were letting him set the pace, giving him time to accept your permission to touch you.

He slipped a finger between your folds, teasing your entrance before tentatively easing it inside, just a little.

Your hips bucked, and your voice came out as a needy whisper. “Please…”

Azriel hesitated for only a split second before pushing his finger all the way in. You were soft and warm, and you both groaned as your walls clenched around it. He couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but he couldn’t stop now.

As he slowly pumped it in and out, your hips began to rock against his hand to match his movements. He watched in contemplation as your eyes fluttered close and your lips parted slightly, a breathy moan slipping out when he couldn’t resist the urge to add a second finger.

“Azriel…” you murmured. “Feels so good…”

The sound of his name on your lips sent a wave of heat through his body. His wings rustled quietly behind him, and his cock throbbed in his pants. He pulled his hand away, relishing your disappointed whimper.

You hadn’t run away from him. You didn’t let his scars intimidate you, or shape your opinion of him. You weren’t bothered by his marred fingers touching you; on the contrary, you craved them inside you. So why, despite the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t worthy of it, should he deny you something you both wanted so badly? He wanted to taste you, to make you come on his fingers, and see how much pleasure they could bring you.

“I want to do this properly,” he murmured, gently guiding you to the bed. “Will you lie down for me, sweetheart?”

Your face lit up with a smile, and you slipped out of your panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you spread your legs, baring yourself to his hungry gaze.

As Azriel knelt between your parted thighs, he pushed every thought about his hands out of his mind, focusing only on the beautiful girl before him and the warmth settling in his heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel jolted awake, his chest heaving. He lifted his hands in front of him, the dim light of the moon casting shadows across them.

They were fine. Scarred as always, but fine.

He took a deep breath as he lay back down. It was just a nightmare—memories coming back to haunt him in his sleep every now and then. Even after centuries.

“Az?”

He cursed silently as you stirred beside him, turning to face him. He could see your struggle to open your eyes, your voice a sleepy mumble.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It's alright.”

It always was with you. You never complained when his nightmares disrupted your sleep. He didn't have them as often since you'd moved in together, fortunately. Sleeping next to you helped, but it wasn't a cure.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you asked quietly. With your head resting on his chest, you could probably hear the rapid thumping of his heart. He willed it to slow.

“It's fine, sweetheart,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your hair, and his tone was softer when he spoke again. “Go back to sleep.”

You curled up against him, and he thought you might let it go. But instead, you continued to look up at him. “You know you can talk to me if you want.”

“I know,” he murmured. You’d always been there for him when he needed it. You had been since the moment you met a year ago, and he was grateful for it every single day. He couldn't wait for your mating ceremony in two weeks and prove once more how much you meant to him.

You shifted in his arms, and then your head was on the pillow next to his, your face only inches away from his. You reached for his hand and lifted it up to your lips, kissing his palm, his fingers, his knuckles.

Azriel watched in silence, a lump in his throat. His heart still raced, and he felt the sudden urge to cry. He didn't even need to tell you what he needed, what burdened him. You always knew. Even before the bond snapped, you'd understood him effortlessly.

“Your hands are fine,” you murmured against his marred skin. “And so are you. You're fine. They can't hurt you anymore.”

Azriel closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. He buried his face in your neck, freeing his hand from your gentle grasp so that he could hold you tighter and press his body against yours. He draped his wings over you, unwilling to let go.

Your fingers stroke through his black curls. “I'm here, my love.” Your voice was soothing and soft, and Azriel felt like the helpless child he'd been five hundred years ago—needing reassurance, care, love. Maybe he would always need those things.

“You're here with me. You're safe now.”

He couldn't stop them, then. Tears slipped past his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks and dampening the skin of your neck. But your gentle caresses and soothing words never faltered.

“It's alright,” you whispered. Your warmth seeped into him, and he felt so cared for that even the last of his walls began to crumble. A broken sob tore through him.

“You're safe, my love.” You cradled his head against your neck, lips brushing his hair. “You can let it all out.”

Azriel did. You'd helped him through difficult moments before, but he had always held back because he didn't want to feel weak. He didn't want you to think he was weak. But if he’d learned anything from you, it was that crying didn't make him weak. That letting his feelings pour out through tears was better than burying them deep down for centuries.

So, he let them rise to the surface. The pain, the anger, the grief for the childhood he’d never had, the bitterness and frustration.

He had never cried about it before, but as he did, he could see it, for the first time in his life—a small light, a way out of the endless cycle of self-pity and hate he'd fallen into.

Maybe his mother had been right all those years ago. He was still healing, even after five centuries. He didn't know how much longer it would take, but maybe he’d reach a point when the nightmares stopped, his hands didn't hurt, and he could accept his scars. And maybe, one day, he wouldn't need his mother or his mate to remind him that his hands weren't ugly.

Azriel had no idea for how long you let him cry and sob in your arms. He had so many pent-up emotions, so much he still couldn't express, words he couldn't voice. But it was a start. And as exhaustion dragged him back to sleep, the weight on his chest, on his heart and soul, felt a little lighter.

Yet you still held him close, stroking his black curls long after he fell asleep.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 6

MDNI // 18+ content

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final) | extra: Police Reports | extra: dinner date with Minho

full master list for additional installments

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3.8k approx (part 6)

Chapter Summary: You are at the mercy of Chief Chan and Officer Felix.

A/n: The time has come! Finally the Aussies have their way with y/n. I know so many of you have been hanging out for this chapter, sending messages and comments, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I know it was a long time coming.

Two things I need to mention, though. The first, I forgot Minho was a detective in the last chapter and called him 'officer' (do you think he'd be a dear and punish me for my mistake?), and two, I mentioned his clothes got soaked in the shower, but nothing about him changing into dry clothes. Let’s just pretend he did.

CW below the cut.

CW: where do I start? Frisking innapropriately, vaginal and anal fingering, photographing of injuries, pinching a nipple, spanking with a belt, handcuffs, bloody lip, hole inspection, crude language about how swollen and how much it's going to hurt, spit roasting, oral sex (m rec), cum eating, cream pie, size kink, name calling (cockslut, whore, babygirl, good girl etc, multiple orgasms, brief breeding kink, rough sex, soft dom moments from Chan and Felix, double vaginal penetration, color system (all green for go ahead), aftercare, angst (you'll see why).

>>>>>>>>

The time arrives for you to finally visit the chief and one his officers, Felix.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Minho says as he does up the last button on the oversized shirt he’d helped you into.

You nod. You’re ready, but nervous.

“Now, remember your color system, your safe word. You don’t have to do anything you don—“ he stops abruptly, coughing awkwardly as he realizes he sounds far too concerned than he should.

Flustered, he clenches his hands into fists and steps back from you.

Again, just like earlier, your heart flutters for just a brief moment, and you swallow hard. You can’t understand it. This is definitely not the context to be feeling things.

Detective Minho walks close to your side as you make your way to the Chief’s office, a protective hand on your lower back.

“Just knock and wait for them to answer.” He says stopping at the door. “Make sure you’re a good girl for them, okay?” He leans in to your ear. “I can’t wait to feel you again later.” Your eyes widen and your cunt clenches, but he walks away like he said nothing at all.

Knock knock.

You tap on the door and wait.

You only have to wait a brief moment before the door opens and you see Office Lee. Felix. He gives you a big, beautiful smile and ushers you into the office.

You’re taken by surprise when you’re immediately spun around and your chest is pressed against the wall beside the door.

“Gotta frisk you, love.” Officer Felix says sweetly. His hands are firm and deliberate as he pats over your shoulders and arms, the down the sides of your body.

“You’ll need to step a little wider, please.” He whispers in your ear.

You part your legs and his hand immediately drags up your inner thigh to cup your pussy, sending tingles through your body. You lean your head against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

“Need to do the internal now.” He says low and slips a finger deep into your heat. You squeak at the intrusion, but it turns to a low moan when he slowly drags his finger in and out of you. His fingers are expert, knowing exactly where that sweet spot is inside you. You rock back against his fingers and moan again.

“Hmm,” he says, “looks like you’re hiding a lot of creaminess here.” He reaches around, offering his cream-coated finger to your mouth. You open and let him slip it inside, pressing it against your tongue, and you suck it willingly.

“Now for the other pretty hole.” There’s a strain in his voice as he snakes his other hand underneath your shirt to find your ass. You whimper around the finger in your mouth as he presses his other against your hole.

The ring of muscle offers little resistance, and the tip of his finger pushes past the rim. Your eyes squeeze tight and your hands press into the wall to steady yourself as he begins to press his finger in further. Although your ass has already had plenty of things done to it in the last twenty four hours, the stretch still feels like a sweet mix of pleasure and pain.

With two fingers scissoring your ass, and a few shoved into your mouth, you’re on the brink of coming. You know that somewhere in the room Chief Chan is watching, even though you didn’t get a chance to see where he was.

Your moans are muffled from Felix’s fingers, and your cunt is leaking arousal down your inner thighs. You feel like a mess and they haven’t even started yet.

Your legs tremble as your pussy clenches around nothing, and you come, pathetically, just like that.

Felix removes all his fingers from your ass and your mouth, and wipes them on your shirt. “Good girl. Now we need to take photos. Come.” He grabs your arm and guides you to turn around.

This is the first time you see the room. It really does look like a Police Chief’s office, with a long, low coffee table surrounded by armchair couches.

At the far end of the room is a large timber desk, and sitting on the edge of the desk is the Chief. Chief Chan.

“Y/n.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling, his expression devilish. “Now you’re going to be a good little prisoner for us, yeah?” He stands up only to take a seat in the couch at the head of the coffee table. “Gonna let Officer Lee here take some good photos of your injuries?”

He settles into his chair. “Strip.” He commands.

Your hands tremble as you unbutton your shirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving you bare for them.

“Fuck.” Chan mutters under his breath. “So perfect.” He swallows hard. “Felix, get started.”

Felix pulls a set of handcuffs from his belt and secures them around your wrists in front of you. “I need you on all fours on the coffee table. Ass towards the Chief. He needs to see all of you.”

You climb onto the table, positioning yourself so Chan can see everything. He lets out a low hum, when he sees the red welts on your ass cheeks.

Felix retrieves a camera from a drawer to the side of the room, and begins to photograph and take note of your injuries.

“Those red welts would be from the paddling she received in the interrogation.” Felix says. Click. Click. “And this cut on her neck, was from Jeongin in the shower.” Click. Click. “Note, there’s also some minor marks on her wrists from various restraints.

“What about her nipples?” Chief Chan interrupts.

“Up on your knees, I need to check.” You rise to your knees and Felix reaches out to stroke your nipple, causing you to shudder under his touch.

“They’re a little bruised.” He tweaks the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then pulls away to take a photograph.

You look down at your nipples to see they are in fact bruised. You hadn’t realized how hard Minho and Seungmin had those clamps attached.

Felix continues to examine your body, photographing any marks or bruises he finds along the way.

“Chief. Would you like to do the honors? Y/n, back on your hands and knees. Its time for your ‘hole inspection’.”

Fuck! The words ‘hole inspection’ hit you straight in the pussy.

“Of course. Pass me your torch. Spread her ass wide for me.” Chan says gruffly, his tone laced with arousal.

You sense Chief Chan moving behind you, and the click of the torch. With a hand on each of your cheeks, Felix spreads you wide so you’re on display. You feel a surge of heat wash over you. You’re excited, aroused, and so fucking nervous. You’re loving being vulnerable like this.

You feel a pad of a thumb on your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. You lean your head on the table, trying your hardest not to whimper. It’s difficult though. Especially how they’re talking about you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy.

“Fucking hell, Felix. Look at how used her cunt looks.” Felix leans in for a closer look, while Chan jams a finger inside your pussy. “Her lips are swollen. So red. Rubbed raw.” He says incredulously. “Chief? How’s she gonna take both our cocks. She looks too swollen.”

“Don’t worry, Lixie. We’ll make them fit. Every inch of us both.” Chan laughs like a crazed man as he tries to spread your hole wide so can try and see inside. “Look at that! She likes the idea of it being a struggle, she’s dripping wet.”

Chan runs a finger along your wet folds, gathering your creaminess. He’s not wrong. This is one of your fantasies. Taking two huge, throbbing cocks in your tight, abused little cunt.

You bite your bottom lip, willing the intrusive thoughts about how sick you must be away, and instead try to remember Detective Minho’s words. “You’re not a sick freak”.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when a loud harsh slap of a belt lands on your skin, hitting you where you were still tender from the paddling.

The sting is almost unbearable, and you bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood.

Another hit with the belt has you crying out, and the third strike has you sobbing loudly.

The fourth lands on your swollen pussy lips, and your knees buckle, causing you slip and land on your stomach.

Chief Chan doesn’t care, and he keeps landing more hits with the belt on your ass.

Felix gently pushes your hair off the side of you face and leans in, kissing your cheek gently.

“Remember you can use your safe word. What color are we on?” He stokes your back awaiting your answer.

Chan pauses his ministrations.

“G-g-green.” You sob. “P-please….need to c-come.” You begin to bawl your eyes out.

“Shh… it’s okay. We’ll take care of you.” Felix reassures you, continuing to stoke your back, and Chan rubs your cheeks gently, before landing three more strikes to your sore ass.

“Time to make the Chief feel good.” Says Felix. “Then we can make you feel good, yeah”. He helps you up but doesn’t uncuff you.

He turns you to face Chan who has resumed his seat in the armchair. He appears to like what he sees. You with tear streaks all down your face, and a bloody lip that’s beginning to drip down your chin, it seems to have an effect on him.

He exhales sharply, his jaw clenched and fists in tight balls on the chair arms. You know he’s going to absolutely enjoy this.

“Come. Down on your knees for the Chief.”

You kneel between Chan’s widespread legs and look up it him through your eyelashes. He leans down and wipes your lip, smearing blood across your face.

“You seem to enjoy pain.” He says low, cupping your cheek. You stare at him wide eyed, holding your breath. “Which is lucky, cos you should have seen your cunt just now. I promised Officer Felix we’d make it fit, but I’m not so sure you’re gonna be able to take it without it hurting.”

You gulp.

“Now,” His grip on your jaw tightens. “I need you to put this pretty little mouth to good use while Felix tries to pry you open a bit, yeah?”

He leans back in the chair waiting for you to begin.

You can already see he is big just from the bulge in his trousers, and when you release it from its confines you can’t help but gasp at the sight.

Enormous. So many thick, pulsing veins, and it's heavy. So fucking heavy looking.

You hold it tentatively in your still cuffed hands, giving it an experimental pump. He hisses loudly when you lean down and lick the slit of his cock head.

“I think you can do better than that.” He growls and grabs a fist full of hair on the back of your head, pushing you down over his length.

He pushes you too deep and you gag loudly around him. But he simply chuckles at your struggle and holds you there.

Felix positions himself behind you, kneeling and pressing his cock to your entrance. He holds your hips steady with one hand and pushes into you. Chan was right, you are swollen, and it is a big stretch just to accept the tip.

Chan loosens his grip on your hair, giving you the opportunity to show him what a good little girl you can be.

You sink back over his shaft, relaxing your throat to take him just that little bit more. He groans in approval and rests his head back on the couch.

Felix fills you inch by inch. It stings, yet it feels so satisfying to be stretched open. You groan, the vibrations from your mouth making Chan shudder.

Felix slams the last of his length inside you, taking you by surprise and making you choke on Chan’s cock.

He then thrusts slowly, allowing you to concentrate on pleasing Chan, but every drag of his cock inside you is bringing you closer and closer to another orgasm.

“I wish all pussies were this compliant.” Felix laughs. “This one’s opening up perfectly.”

He rolls his hips a few times, grinding against you deliciously, then snaps his hips hard, hitting your cervix brutally. He alternates between these actions, driving you crazy, sending you closer and closer to the edge.

Chan lets you do all the work on his cock, watching you drool all over it sloppily. Sucking, licking, gagging. You take as much as you possibly can into your throat. You use your hands where you can’t reach with your mouth. Every now and then he pushes your head down a little more, testing your limits.

“Fuck! She’s so tight, Chief. You wanna feel her? I’d love to come in her mouth if I’m allowed?” He thrusts into you hard. “I’m so close.”

“Mmm, yes, let me fill her little cunt with my cum, you fill her mouth.” Chan agrees.

You’re abruptly emptied of both penises and directed to straddle Chan on the couch with one foot on either side of him, and your back against his chest. He hooks his arms under your thighs and with Felix guiding Chan’s cock to your entrance, you’re lowered onto his length.

You whimper as your body stretches to accommodate him as he continues to fill you bit by bit.

You’re too full. There’s no way in hell you’re going to fit both of them at once.

Eventually, your ass meets his hips and you’re fully impaled on him.

“Fuck, yes. Such a good, tight, filthy cunt.” Growls Chan and he rolls his hips up against you while pulling you down as hard as he can.

You cry out.

“Shh now. Here.” Felix rubs the tip of his leaking cock against your check. You turn your head and open up to take him. He fucks your mouth a lot rougher than he fucked your cunt, pushing himself deeper and deeper into your throat on every thrust. It only takes a few minutes for him to cum down your throat with a pretty moan, his head thrown back.

It makes you clench hard around Chan. “Babygirl likes a belly full of cum? Good, cos she’s gonna be fed a whole lot when all the officers take her at once.” He says, pounding into you from below.

“Open up, love. Show me your empty mouth. That’s it. Good girl.” Felix is pleased when you stick out your tongue and show him just how hungry you are.

He removes the the remainder of his clothes and starts to fist his cock, working on getting it hard again.

Chan stands up, pushing you off his cock and laying you onto the coffee table unceremoniously. He folds you in half, pushing your legs up and then absolutely rams himself into you over and over.

The cold hard wood underneath you is uncomfortable on your back as you’re being fucked into it.

“You like this? You fucking little whore? Hmm? Love having a fat cock filling you up like this?” He leans down and kisses you. It’s unexpected, but you welcome it. It’s rough and harsh, just like his cock, and the pressure inside you becomes too much.

He pulls away and you look down to see just how thick and long he is, and how much he stretches and fills you. Your engorged, pink lips enveloping him as your cunt sucks him in. You whimper as your body starts to shake, and with a loud cry, you drench his cock, clenching around it, coming hard.

“That’s our girl. Yeah milk me. Milk Channie’s huge cock!” He demands as his eyes scrunch tight and he lets out an animalistic growl as he coats your insides.

He pulls away, panting, sweating, exhausted, and removes his clothes hastily.

Felix is quick to photograph the cum leaking out of you and you hold your legs up to ensure he gets a good view.

“So perfect.” He approves and sets the camera aside. “Y/n. It’s time. Let’s change positions.” He smiles and uncuffs your hands and helping you to your feet.

Chan produces a blanket from a drawer and spreads it out on the coffee table. He lays down on it and instructs you to straddle him.

Holding his cock steady, he pushes inside your still leaking cunt once again. It’s an impossibly tight squeeze, especially after your orgasm, but somehow he manages to fill you to the hilt. You both exhale sharply when he lifts you slightly and pulls you back down again.

“Come here, lean on me.” He invites you to lay against his chest and he wraps his arms around you. “You’re already choking me. I’m not sure I’m going to survive this.” He whispers against your ear.

He fucks you slowly for a few minutes, grinding up into you over and over. Meanwhile, Felix caresses your body, stroking your back, your ass and presses kisses along your back. He spreads your cheeks and curses low at what he sees.

You’re melting under their softer approach, which you know is all part of them relaxing you for what’s about to come.

“That’s it. Good girl.” Cooes Chan.

“Feels s'good.” You mumble.

“Yeah? You ready to take Officer Felix? Think you can do that for us?” He purrs.

You nod against his shoulder. “Wanna be a good girl.” You whimper.

Chan chuckles. “Yeah? I know you’re gonna be. You’re gonna take Felix like a good little cockslut.”

You feel Felix behind you, positioning himself. “Fuck, Chan.” Felix says uncertainly. “She looks so full already.”

“She’s okay, Lix. She’ll take you no matter what. Let’s fuck her brains out. Tear up her pussy.”

You moan and clench around Chan. You’re certain this man could make you come just with his filthy mouth.

You let out a low groan as Felix presses the tip of his cock at your entrance alongside Chan.

“F-fuck!” You cry when his tip pushes past the opening. “S’too much.” You pant.

“Color?” Chan says sternly.

“G-green. J-just slow, please! Slow.”

Chan holds you with one hand around your back, the other gently holding your ass, pulling the cheek aside to help give Felix access. “You guide us, yeah?”

“You ready to try for more?” Felix asks, a kindness in his voice. The man seems so kind, so considerate. You want to have him inside you too.

“Yes…more.” You pant.

Slowly, and under your direction, Felix squeezes in next to Chan. “So tight. Chan, how are you holding up?”

Chan’s voice is shaky when he answers. “M’not gonna last, mate. Pussy’s too good.”

“More…please…make me take it. Wannabe a good girl! Wanna come on two cocks. Just fuck me!” You ramble and nuzzle against Chan.

The stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your walls are stretched further than they have ever been, and they’re so deep inside you, owning you, making you theirs.

You begin to drool, as they take turns withdrawing and thrusting in a beautiful rhythm.

The men growl and grunt as they work together, eventually deciding that instead of one thrust in while the other withdraws, they are going to thrust in at the same time.

“Oh god! Fuck!” You wail.

The both laugh at your reaction, pleased with themselves.

“Harder! More!” You demand. You need them to really give it to you like they promised.

“Make it hurt!”

Their reaction tells you it is music to their ears to hear that.

“Ready, Lix? You heard her. Babygirl wants it to hurt.”

You almost regret it straight away. Felix’s fingers dig into your hips hard, and Chan digs his feet into the table for leverage.

Together they don’t hold back, fucking you brutally. You feel like your cunt is about to split into two. It’s stretched to its limits, yet it craves more. Frantically, you seek more friction, more depth and your body automatically pushes back down against them seeking more.

Lewd sounds fill the office. Sweaty skin slapping skin. Moans, whimpers and curses of ‘fuck’. Then there’s the wet sounds of your pussy. It’s all so dirty and filthy.

You feel yourself so close to your another orgasm, and when both men move a finger to your ass, you know you’re a goner.

“Think you can take both our fingers?”

“Ngh…y-yes…give it to me.” You sob.

The moment you feel your rim give way, and their fingers slip inside slightly and pulling in opposite directions, stretching your hole wide, your body shakes uncontrollably, and you come hard with a sound that can only be described something raw, something primal.

“Fuck! You feel that?” Cries Felix, slamming into you as hard as he can.

“Y-yeah! Fuck, she’s gonna suck us dry. So tight…. Fuuuuck!!” He groans as he cums, releasing himself deep in you. “That's it, let us breed you like a bitch in heat. Gonna take Lixie’s cum too? Mmm yeah? Gonna suck the cum out of him with your tight, hungry little cunt?”

“Mmhmm… yess…need his cum too.”

“Wanna be bred, yeah?”

“Y-yes….please. Please. Need it.” You’re dribbling all over Chan’s chest, mumbling in confusion. It all feels so overwhelmingly incredible. So good you’re going to -

“I’m fucking coming again!” You cry, clamping down around the the two men.

“Oh fuck! Gonna give you my cum. Gonna-”

Felix’s hips falter as he cums, filling you so much that it begins to seep out around both cocks.

He slips out of your tired pussy, and you already feel far too empty, and then Chan pulls out too making you sob at the loss.

“You okay?” Felix wraps a blanket around you and Chan produces warm towels to clean you up.

You nod and smile, although you’re also bawling your eyes out from how euphoric the experience felt. “It was so good. Thank you for being so…considerate. You know, letting me set the pace. As you know, that was my first time.”

“Of course.” Chan kneels down in front of you. “We take our roles very seriously. Our client’s needs are our top priority.” He wipes a tear away. “Now. You need to stay here and rest. Felix will bring you food. And if you are still up for it, we will commence the final request of yours as soon as you're good to go."

>>>>

Minho listens from the other side of the door. That’s right, you’re a client. Nothing more.

He sighs.

Then why did he listen to that entire interaction? Why did he feel like he needed to make sure they didn’t take things too far with you? Or that they would honor your safe word?

He knows Chan and Felix wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with, yet he stood there, fists clenched, listening to you whimpering? Waiting for an excuse to barge in there.

Fuck! He cards his fingers through his hair.

Why did he feel jealous when he heard the sounds that your sweet cunt made when they were inside you? Why did he want to burst in there and rip them from your body and sink himself inside you?

Why the fuck does he care so much?

He settles his mouth into a thin line. He know why, and it's absolutely not ideal. Not to mention it's against the rules of the job.

He sighs again and forces himself to walk away. He needs to figure out a way that he's going to handle watching you get gang banged, and quick.

>>>>

a/n: Oopies, someone is struggling with some feelings it seems. How did you enjoy this chapter? I really wanted to make it a longish one and really give the the Aussie their moment. Please, if you enjoyed, consider a reblog or leave a comment. I love hearing your thoughts on this series.

>>>>

@jeonginsleftcheek @meilix @itgirlalisaa @linocz @boi-bi-ahaha @frozenpeasworld @grandma143 @milkypinkmimi @bangchansbbgirl @leefelixsslut @privhace @justforreaders @galaxycatdrawz @melochacco @jiwoos-babygirl @lunearta @kavifornia @chuuyaobsessed @iadorethemskz @hyun-hwanj @courtnort455 @brimarie0512 @dwaekkicidal @kibs-and-bits @txa-r @minh0scat @the-sweet-rose @chrizzztopherbang @velvetmoonlght @youcanstayyeah @skzswife @stephanieeeyang @withnia @kibs-and-bits @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ihrtlino

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin@weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @jiminssluttyminx @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife @delulustardust @eastjonowhere

[outercrasis]

Change of Plans

Pairing: Adrian Chase (Vigilante) x F!Reader ++ Word Count/Rating: 5.4k / E

Summary: You know Adrian is Vigilante. Now you just have to prove it, but things don't pan out like you expect them to.

Warnings: Sex pollen (there's like inherent dubcon bc of that, but they're both so into it), vaginal sex, light angst, honestly this is so fluffy and emotional bc I can't ever help myself lmao

You knew it. You fucking knew it. 

You’ve had your suspicions – Adrian’s unexplainable injuries, him bailing on you with short notice all the time, his complete avoidance of any and all questions. At first you thought he simply didn’t want to be friends anymore and this was his shitty way of ending things. Then you started to notice the pattern.

Anytime Adrian Chase is unavailable, someone reports a sighting of Vigilante.

Tonight’s the final straw. You were looking forward to hanging out with Adrian and watching bad movies all week, only for him to send a text at the last minute saying can’t hang. have to stay late at work. 🧜🏻‍♂️😿

Except when you called Fennel Fields to fake a family emergency so he could get out early, you learned that Adrian wasn’t on the schedule today and he certainly wasn’t pulling any extra hours. Then you saw the video on twitter. 

It was short, just a few seconds long, but it was enough. His voice. His stupid, infuriating voice. You’d know it anywhere. Combined with your already suspicious mind, you have to prove it – which leads to now. Sitting in the dark of Adrian’s apartment, waiting for him to get home.

You've come prepared. Bringing all the snacks and drinks you originally picked up for movie night, you have no reason to get up from the chair you've chosen to camp in. Tucking yourself into your favorite blanket, you're in it for the long haul.

Movies never show how boring it is waiting in the dark for someone to show up. They always skip to the good part and provide the immediate pay off. Seconds pass like minutes and minutes pass like hours. You could pull out your phone, but you don't want to chance alerting Adrian of your presence in any way.

Part of you is still having a hard time reconciling this. Despite all the evidence, there's still that voice whispering doubt that you've made this all up and are going to look insane once Adrian gets home. Adrian will laugh at you for your crazy theory and then either kick you out or relentlessly laugh at you. Either option is not preferable.

Another option crosses your mind. You try not to dwell on it, but it's impossible to ignore in the dark. What if Adrian isn't alone when he comes home? What if he's been spending time with someone he likes more? You don't want to fully consider the fallout of that – likely copious amounts of ice cream and a romcom marathon.

Enough time passes that you eventually begin to nod off. After a long week it's only natural. You drift into the weird liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, consciousness bobbing along like a ship without a motor.

Jarring is an understatement when you're woken by Adrian loudly returning home. He storms in through the sliding glass door, slamming it so hard that it pops back open again slightly. It's a rude awakening, but the adrenaline now running through your veins is a great boost.

He's hunched over the dining table, arms extended with his hands flat. You can see his heavy breathing from here. You don't need to be an expert in body language to tell that he's upset about something.

It's not until he tears his mask off, fully confirming what you already know to be true, that you gasp. You can't help it. Despite every suspicion, seeing him there is a shock. The fear of losing Adrian to someone else melts and is swiftly replaced by a fear of losing him in a far more permanent way.

Adrians's eyes go wide and you yelp as a knife suddenly arcs through the air at you. Acting purely out of instinct, you duck and the knife embeds itself into the chair where your head previously was.

“What the fuck?” you yell, frantically looking between the knife and Adrian. “You could have fucking killed me!”

Adrian stares at you. “You aren't supposed to be here.”

That stupid fire in your gut that convinced you this was a good idea in the first place sparks again. “Actually, this is exactly where I was supposed to be tonight until someone bailed on me. Again.”

You're not even sure Adrian realizes how often he's been bailing on you these past few weeks. You know how he works – completely single minded when he wants to be. Whatever he's been doing as Vigilante has kept him busy.

“You aren't supposed to be here,” Adrian repeats again. The look in his eyes is wild, his breathing still erratic. It doesn’t even seem like he's put the pieces together on you figuring out his secret identity. Whatever footing you thought you had has been swiftly pulled out from under you.

You take careful steps towards the dinette like you're approaching a scared animal. “Ade? Are you okay?” You lift your hands, showing him that they're empty. The last thing you want is for him to think you're a threat.

He doesn't move. It's unnerving. Adrian is always moving, fidgeting, talking. Some days you want to strap him down to keep him in one place. If it weren't for the continued heave of his chest you'd think he became a statue. 

A half a step away, he speaks again. “You have to go. Now. Otherwise I can't-”

“I'm not leaving you, Adrian. You're scaring me.” As angry as you are over all this, your concern for him overrides it.

His hands ball into fists. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for wha-”

You don't get to finish your question before Adrian is on you. His mouth crashes onto yours, all teeth and desperation. You feel every hard line and contour of his costume pressed against your body. His hand engulfs your jaw, keeping you firmly in place.

So this is what kissing Adrian is like. You never imagined it quite like this, but you aren’t complaining as he overwhelms your senses.

He tastes faintly of mint – a sharp contrast to the rubber and cordite smell of his suit. His hands are seemingly everywhere all at once while all you can do is hold onto him. There's a fuzz in your ears as every sound except for those coming from Adrian gets blocked out. 

The burn in your lungs finally forces you to break the heated kiss. It doesn't stop Adrian. He simply moves down to your neck, sucking and biting it in ways that are sure to bruise. He's mumbling into your skin the whole time but it's nothing you can make out.

“A-Ade?” He doesn't stop. You want to sink into this. Give in completely and let Adrian have his way. It's not right though. Adrian isn't quite right and you need to know something, anything before this can continue.

“Ade.” He bites a little too hard on your neck. “Adrian!”

You push and shove his concrete wall of a body, not stopping until he finally does. It's a small consolation that he looks abashed.

“What the fuck is going on?”

To say that Adrian looks delirious would be kind. His eyes are glossy, hair sticking up in all different directions, and a deep flush running down his neck. Whatever is happening, it's impacting his ability to think straight.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles. “I got hit with some kind of dart and I feel like I'm on fire. I came home to deal with it myself but then you were here and you said you wouldn't leave and-” 

His explanation gets caught in a high pitched whine. Adrian pulls you flush against him, nearly crushing you in a hug as he clearly attempts to restrain himself. You realize that the stiffness you felt before was not an athletic cup in his suit.

“How can I help?” you hear yourself ask. This is probably, definitely, stupid. 

You're still pissed at him for not telling you about his double life. You're still trying to process the fact that he has a double life. Despite all of that, he's clearly suffering right now and you can't walk away. He's still Adrian. He's still your best friend. 

He's still the idiot you love.

“You don't-”

You cut him off. “Well I'm going to, so tell me how to help.”

Adrian looks like he could cry. Whatever he had expected his night to be, it clearly wasn't this.

“Need you to touch me.” His words come out as a whine. Whatever this is affecting him, it seems to come in waves as Adrian's control start to slip again.

“You're sure? This isn't just whatever was in that dart?” You have to know there's some real part of Adrian that wants this. If it's just a drug controlling him, you can't do that to him or yourself.

Adrian pulls your hand, marching in the direction of his bedroom. “I've jerked myself off to the thought of you since the first day we met.”

Well. Not exactly poetic, but you certainly feel better about the current situation. 

The moment you step inside his bedroom Adrian is on you again. His tongue presses into your mouth while his hands work on removing your clothes. It's desperate and ungraceful, but you'd be lying if you said it was a turn off.

You know part of it is just the drug. Its effects are evident in Adrian's shaky hands and nearly possessed need to remain in contact with you. You know Adrian well enough to know the parts that aren't. He's making a valiant effort to ramble between kisses, trying to convey how beautiful you are and how long he's thought about this. Although all lights are clearly green he still checks in before he tears your underwear off and mumbles a quick apology.

You're suddenly off your feet, falling backwards onto the cushion of his bed. Shock is replaced by a wave of heat rolling through your body as you take in the new view.

Adrian is standing above you fully clothed in his Vigilante suit except for the mask. He looks imposing, the armor only making him that much bigger than he does without. He's palming his cock through the thick fabric in a futile attempt to take any of the edge off. 

You never would have considered it, but Adrian in his getup while you're beneath him completely bare is certainly doing something for you. You wonder if he'd ever fuck you in the mask. The thrill of it would likely be worth missing out on his gorgeous face.

The stare he seems to be caught in is more than a little flattering. Gears are clearly whirring in his head, but it's like he can't decide which is the next best step to take. He looks like he wants to eat you alive. 

You drag a hand down along your body, thrilled as Adrian’s eyes quickly lock onto the movement. It’s a leisurely pace, even circling back up once or twice before finally making the descent towards the apex of your thighs.

You barely graze the short curls there before Adrian drops to his knees and bats your hand away. 

“No fucking way am I letting you do that.” He tears off his gloves with his teeth and unceremoniously sinks a finger into your core. You feel even better than he imagined and you both groan in a filthy harmony.

Adrian doesn't have much tact – falling somewhere between what would be ideal and jackhammering. You've certainly experienced worse. You know he's not some blushing virgin, nor is he a selfish asshole, so you're willing to chalk this up to the desperation of the drug in his system. It's only confirmed when he speaks.

“I'm sorry. Fuck - I want to take my time with you but I need-”

“It's okay, Ade. Let's get you feeling better first, yeah?”

Adrian groans, the word first ringing between his ears. He's not lucid enough to parse out what that could mean, but it sounds promising. “You're too good for me.”

His head falls against you, which quickly turns into him mouthing at your inner thigh. You really hope it's not just the drug that's made him so oral-focused. 

There's the jingle and snap of a belt coming off. You prop yourself up on your elbows in time to see Adrian pulling his pants down just far enough to let himself free. If you had any shame left at this point, you'd be embarrassed by your gasp.

Precum leaks freely, sliding down his considerable length. The head of his cock is red and clearly bordering on, if not actually, painfully aroused. “Thimble” your ass. 

Before you can give his dick any further consideration, Adrian grabs your hips and drags you to the edge of the bed. The need pulsing in his veins is reaching a fever pitch.

There isn’t much ceremony as he presses into you, folding over in a bout of sheer ecstasy. You wish you could bottle the moan that’s pulled from his chest. Tears catch in the corners of your eyes and you’re not sure if it’s from the perfect burning stretch of him or if it’s from the overwhelming feeling that this is finally happening. 

“So good for me. Knew you would be. Oh fuuuck, you're squeezing me so well…” Adrian rambles. 

Being inside you seems to have taken the edge off for the moment. He’s as gentle as he can be, trying his best to give you time to adjust. His mouth laves over your skin, finding your breasts and making your back arch up into him. It provides exactly what you need.

“C'mon, Adrian. Fuck me,” you say. Whatever control he was clinging to shatters. 

Adrian sets a devastating pace. He regrets not being able to take things slower. He'd always imagined being able to tease, slowly working you up and making you laugh, until the moment where he finally got to ravish you. 

The regret doesn't last long. Not while he feels the heat of you wrapped around him, your clear sounds of pleasure beneath him. The worry that he's somehow taken advantage of you lessens with each stroke.

You look heavenly laid out beneath him. Your fingers dig into his scalp, sending tingles down his spine. He's already addicted to your little moans and whines, knowing that he'll die if he never gets to hear them again after this.

He's imagined this countless ways and countless times. None of them ever involved highly unregulated and experimental sex drugs, but then he supposes that's on him for not being more creative in his fantasies. He still didn't come close to how good this would feel.

“I can't- I'm not going to last,” he grunts.

You tug the hair on the back of his head lightly. “That's okay. Let go, baby.”

Adrian unravels at the pet name. His brain and baser urges can't fathom pulling out at this point, instead pounding deeper in as he lets himself go. It's almost enough to push you over the edge with him.

His body is heavy on top of you, half collapsed and boneless. “Holy fuck.”

“Better?” you ask. 

“Mhmm,” he hums.

Your breath hitches as Adrian begins to slowly rock his hips again. You expected he would need a moment to recover, but he feels just as hard as when you started. Thrill mixes with concern as you wonder just how long Adrian will be in this state for.

“Not done with you yet.”

His hand slips down between your bodies. His thumb gently swirls over your clit. This slow and sensual pace is so different from the violent pounding you were just receiving that it's dizzying. It's not long before you’re back on the edge of ultimate pleasure.

Adrian nips at your neck, immediately soothing it with his tongue. “Your turn. I need to see how pretty you look when you come. Please, please, please,” he begs, still breathless from his own release.

His sweaty forehead presses against yours, locking eyes with you. With that, one more swipe of his thumb, and one more please, you're crying out as your cunt clenches around him. He continues his gentle rock, working you through the intense orgasm.

Adrian’s wild grin greets you as you reopen your eyes. He leans down to give you a messy kiss as he ramps his speed back up. “You're so fucking hot. I nearly came just watching you. I know you're not on any sex drugs but I'm going to make you do that as many times as I can. Hottest thing I've ever seen.” 

You have absolutely no idea how long these drugs are going to last in Adrian's system. What you do know at this point is that you need to be ready for a long night and you're going to need to get creative. Who knew you'd be speedrunning a number of fantasies with him on the first night you're together? It's like taking a crash course in each other’s sexual proclivities.

At a certain point you lose track of the positions and angles you find together. You take him in your hand or mouth when your pussy needs a break, but draw a hard line at your ass. There's no world in which Adrian has enough patience for that to be a pleasurable experience.

Thankfully, each orgasm seems to take the edge off for longer and longer. After this, you expect that Adrian will be drained for days. If you didn't know about the drug in his system you'd be terrified by his stamina and recovery. The human body should not be able to produce that much cum in one night.

You're completely exhausted. There's no world in which you won't be limping tomorrow and potentially for days after. The discovery of lube in Adrian's nightstand halfway through your marathon was an absolute godsend but could only do so much.

The bottle now lies empty on the floor alongside the pieces of Adrian's Vigilante costume. Those came off at random, whenever he felt too restricted by them remaining on. You're not sure what to think about the jolt that ran through you looking at all his weapons laid out on the floor. You really hope he was too delirious to notice at the time.

Adrian is currently pressed into you from behind, spooning you. He's not moving, just taking pleasure in being buried inside you. His face is pressed back into the crook of your neck, very obviously smelling you and your hair. It's sweet.

You find his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. You'll ruminate more on the size and feel of them when your brain is more operational.

“Feeling better?” you ask, voice thick with fatigue.

“So much better. I thought my dick was going to explode earlier but now it just feels normal.”

You chuckle. “I'm glad your dick didn't explode.”

“Me too! I can't be the guy with the exploded dick. How would I pee?”

Your body relaxes further into his arms as sleep begins to pull you under. “I dunno. I'm glad it didn't,” you tell him. “You have a really nice dick.”

You can feel it flex inside you at the compliment. You don't think he did that on purpose. You'll have to investigate that more at a later time. 

“You really think so? You're not just being nice?”

You snort. “Yes. Your dick is very nice and has made me very tired. Wake me up if you need something.” With that, you slip off into a deep sleep as exhaustion takes hold. 

Adrian holds onto you tightly, still disbelieving that any of this is real. You're even better than he could have imagined. The two of you never avoided sex as a topic but you also never dove deep into it either, and Adrian’s chest always felt weird whenever he thought about anything past vanilla involving you. 

Despite his want to stay wrapped up and buried in you he also knows he's taken more than his fair share tonight. Adrian slowly climbs out of bed, careful to make sure you stay asleep.

He takes stock of himself as he stands. His head feels clearer than it has in hours and his veins are no longer searing. He has no open wounds or bruises. His dick doesn't even feel that bad. This is definitely not Vigilante’s worst night. He has no idea how he's going to discuss that with you. 

He maneuvers in the bathroom just from the ambient light out of the bedroom. It's good this is his own place or he definitely would have knocked things over and woke you. 

Adrian cleans himself up and wets a washcloth to do the same for you. A single small noise escapes you as he does this, but you otherwise remain fast asleep. He decides it's worth the risk to pull one of his shirts over you as well.

His heart stutters at the sight of you in his bed and in his clothes. Adrian doesn't like reflecting on his feelings often. Years of forced therapy and people staring at him like he'd grown antennae out of his head whenever he tried to express an emotion really stamped that out of him. You make him want to try.

You appeared in Adrian's life unexpectedly and cemented yourself in it quickly. For whatever reason, you were charmed by what others regularly told him was weird and off putting. Faster than he'd admit, he had to reassess his entire BFF tierlist.

From the start, there had been a soft and saccharine hope that this could be something more. The second it was felt, it was buried, but it never went down deep or stayed there for long. Like an annoying but resilient weed he couldn't ignore. You probably wouldn't appreciate that comparison.

Adrian was left stuck – wanting more and not wanting to ruin your friendship. He really hopes tonight changes things.

Your brow furrows, arms reaching out to where Adrian should be beside you. He slips a pair of boxers on and joins you back in bed. He was going to grab a glass of water for when you woke up, but how can he deny that?

You snuggle into his chest and throw a leg over him. Adrian kisses the top of your head and settles in. He's asleep in minutes.

×××

It's early afternoon when you wake. Your body is starfished, left arm and leg splayed over Adrian. His gentle snores tell you that he doesn't mind. 

You reposition and tuck yourself alongside his body. He's a furnace and you're happy to soak up some additional heat. While you move, you realize that you have a shirt on despite definitely falling asleep naked. It's the Fargo shirt you got him for Christmas. You smile.

It's not long before Adrian is waking up too. He's quick to pull you in closer and kiss your forehead. “I'm not dreaming or dead, right?” he asks.

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“Okay, good, cool. I just thought I'd make sure. I've had a few dreams like this and it really pisses me off when I wake up for real and you're not here.”

You tilt your head to look up at Adrian. You may need a pinch of your own to make sure you're not still sleeping.

“What?” Adrian asks. “Is there drool on my face?”

You chuckle. There is actually, but you don't tell him. Instead you shift so that you’re now laying directly on top of Adrian and lean down to give him a soft kiss.

He responds immediately, arms wrapping around you and one hand finding your ass. You end the kiss prematurely. “Don't even think about it. I'll be lucky if I can walk today.”

You could frame the grin on Adrian's face. He sneaks in another quick kiss and then holds your face in his hands, seemingly inspecting it for something.

“What?” you ask between mushed cheeks.

“You're okay? I didn't hurt you, right?”

You roll your eyes. “No. You just fucked the shit out of me and now I'm tender.” The shit eating grin returns to his face.

You spend some more time in bed, poking fun at each other and goofing around. It feels no different than any other time you've spent with Adrian except for the new level of affection and the teal colored elephant in the room that you both dutifully ignore.

Eventually, the need to pee surpasses the joys of staying in bed. You take one wobbly step before Adrian is lifting you into his arms. You let out an undignified yelp.

“You looked like a baby deer,” Adrian tells you happily as a way of explaining his reason for the sudden lift. It's an embarrassing comparison, but you'll take the help. If he doesn't actually see you waddle, it may prevent Adrian from singing “Side to Side”.

He's more than happy to carry you out to the living room after, even offering a pair of his boxers to make up for your ruined panties. You'll steal some money from him later to replace those.

You demand Adrian bring you the blanket from the chair you camped out in last night and some of your snacks. The knife is still embedded in the back of the chair. You look away and busy yourself with locating the remote.

You're quick to find a movie, choosing something at random. Netflix original that had no marketing and no one has ever heard of? Perfect. Something to fill the room with noise.

Adrian drops the blanket over your head. 

“Hey!” you yell indignantly. By the time you have it off your head he's disappeared into the kitchen. The hum of Adrian’s keurig machine starts up, eventually turning into a spitting whir and two watery cups of coffee. 

He settles beside you on the couch and focuses on the movie. You aren't. Leaving the bedroom popped some kind of bubble in your mind, bringing you back to last night. 

Adrian is Vigilante. There's no denying it. You thought there would be a euphoric feeling along with the discovery – the absolute satisfaction in being right. Instead there's a pit in your stomach. Adrian is Evergreen's most wanted. A person who you once heard laughed while chopping a guy's arm off. Someone any normal person would be terrified of. So why aren't you?

You take a sip of your coffee. It's exactly how you like it. 

He's quiet, which is starting to freak you out more than anything else. You've only seen him go completely silent while watching Fargo or the Planet of the Apes movies. This random garbage is certainly not capturing his attention like those do.

Looking around the room, you catch a glimpse of his mask on the ground where it was discarded last night.

“So, can we talk about it?” you ask tentatively, still not quite looking at him.

“Talk?” Adrian says. “What do we need to talk about? How great this movie is? Because if you want to talk about that we should probably finish it first.”

You roll your eyes. Unsubtle as always. How he even kept this secret for so long is a genuine miracle. 

Your legs are unsteady but you do just fine in getting up and grabbing the mask. You throw it at him, somewhere between gentle and hard. 

“That.”

“Oh right! This old thing. Not much to talk about there.” He tosses it onto the coffee table. “Let's just go back to this amazing movie. I think we're coming up on a big action sequence.” 

You move to stand directly in front of Adrian, tilting his head up so that he's forced to look at you. The look he gives you doesn't help your conviction. He's nearly begging to not discuss this. Unfortunately for him, there's no amount of puppy dog eyes that can get him out of this one.  

“I won't pretend like I'm not upset, but I'm also not walking out the door either. I just want to talk, Ade.”

Hearing his nickname seems to at least somewhat relax him. It's quiet for a moment, both of you struggling with where to start.

“How long have you known?” he asks.

“I've known for a while. I finally gathered enough courage to confront you about it last night.” You sit back down beside him. 

“How?”

“I'm not stupid. You would bail on me and then there would be a new post online about Vigilante. I listened to a few videos of you talking to confirm and voilà. I know Vigilante’s secret identity.”

“Fuck! If you figured it out then someone else definitely has. This is so fucked. What am I going to do…” Adrian continues his worried monologue, sinking his fingers into his hair. You didn't realize how important the secret identity was to him.

“Adrian? Hey. Ade, look at me.” Your voice is commanding enough to stop his spiral. “First of all, that was rude as fuck. If I've figured it out then others definitely have? I am relatively smart, I'll have you know. Second, no one else is going to figure it out.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because I've spent a disgusting amount of time paying attention to everything about you. In and out of your suit. It would take a miracle for someone else to have paid the same amount of attention to you and put the pieces together.”

Adrian pulls his head out of his hands to look at you. “Now who's rude as fuck?” His tone is teasing. “Other people look at me. Plenty of other people want a piece of this.”

He gestures down his body. Your gaze gladly follows, which only makes you burn with embarrassment when your eyes meet Adrian's again. You want to hate his cocky grin, but you're also enjoying this new form of confidence from him.

You're not quite sure where things go from here. You have a million questions to ask, but you don't know if you're ready to hear the answers or if he's ready to share. Starting with familiar territory should help you think.

“So um, what exactly happened last night?” you ask, hoping for more details about how he ended up getting dosed with sex drugs. Or how those are something that's apparently real. Do you have to worry about that now?

A panicked look overtakes Adrian. It's a good thing he wears a mask as Vigilante – he's far too expressive and pretty to scare someone without it. 

“Why? Are you-? Oh fuck, I wasn't trying to-” he blurts.

“No, no! I'm not regretting it or anything like that. I hope you don't-”

“No! I don't either. It was great, you're great. Best sex I've ever had not even including the drugs, although they really enhanced the experience.”

You can't help but laugh. The absolute absurdity of all of this has finally and fully caught up with you. You don't know why you ever expected a normal confrontation or a normal confession with Adrian. Instead you're discussing sex drugs and reassuring each other that neither of you feels taken advantage of. This chaos feels fitting though, like it could have never gone any other way with him.

Adrian starts laughing with you, awkward and clearly forced. “Why are we laughing?” Adrian asks through his fake guffaws.

You reach out, placing a hand on Adrian's arm. “I'm- I'm sorry. I swear I'm not laughing at you, Ade. This is just- it's a lot.” 

You manage to calm yourself back down. “I don't regret last night and I'm glad you don't either. If this is going to work though, I have a lot of questions I need answered.”

Adrian sits up straight, eyeing you closely. “You mean you're not afraid? You want this? Me?”

It's probably a bad idea. After all, Adrian is no longer just your friend, the lonely busboy. Adrian is also a wanted and dangerous vigilante. Getting involved with him could result in things worse than a broken heart.

You look him over. His bright green eyes, nothing like you'd imagine the eyes of a killer. The light dusting of freckles that cover his skin, far too soft for some psychopath. The strong line of his jaw and neck, begging to be traced and kissed. His strong arms and hands, which managed to hold you with care even while not in his right mind.

Logic be damned, you know what you want. “Yeah, Adrian. I want you.”

Adrian pounces, knocking you back along the cushions and covering you in sloppy kisses. “Where do you want me to start?”

Thanks for reading!! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💕

[urhoneycombwitch]

sweet.

Steve x reader smut, 1.3k

foreword: u know that scene from Euphoria where Elliot makes out with Jules’ hand as if it was her pussy… anyways Steve Harrington take it away!!! 🎤 (dedicated to 🦊 anon thank u for your wisdom)

___

Sure, the drinking and the dancing is a good way to pass the time, but you’re partial to the end-of-night rituals you and Steve have settled into over the years. Your personal afterparty usually involves a shitty romcom, occasionally some weed, and always snacks both sweet and salty to soak up the alcohol.

Steve’s parents are out of town again, so the two of you are down in the basement den, passing a joint between fingers sticky with candy film.

From all your years of reading Steve’s body language you can tell he’s pretty high- feet planted on the ground but head lolling against the back of the couch, hands lax at his sides. There’s a dopey grin on his face- practically primed for a shitty joke or annoying comment- and you let the smoke out with a huff, asking on the exhale, “What?”

“You owe me five bucks.” Steve presses the side of his head into the couch, looking at you with red-rimmed eyes, still smiling.

You scoff, leaning in to pass the joint back and swiping a handful of gummy bears from the coffee table while you’re at it. “Since fucking when?”

“Since I bought this from Eddie.” Steve waves the weed for emphasis before taking another hit, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You’re matching me in pace, princess. This joint was ten bucks- ergo, you owe me five.”

You cackle despite yourself- “Ergo? You’ve been watching too many Perry Mason reruns.” You know Steve’s not actually gonna make you pay for the weed, he’s just trying to rile you up, and the fact that it’s not working is getting under his skin.

He shrugs a shoulder, just shy of pouting. “Point still stands.”

“Well, you shoulda let me buy from him. Eddie always gives me discounts. On account of these.” Here, you straighten your spine and gesture to your chest- after all the night’s activity, your boobs are practically spilling out of your bra and t-shirt combo, skin glowing in the muted TV’s light.

Steve blinks, clears his throat, and busies himself by ashing the joint into a spare candy wrapper. “Uh huh. Right. I’ll be sure to remember your tits the next time I’m talking to Munson.”

“At least someone will be thinking of them.” You mean it as a joke, but your voice is a bit too mournful to be taken lightly.

“Ah, and you’ve been picking such winners, recently,” Steve intones, dryly. The pillow launched at his head in your poor attempt to hit him is easily batted away. “C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve been going out with total losers. Aaron Conroy? Jamie Porter? Wouldn’t trust either of those guys to find their own dicks. Let alone your whole… business.”

Steve’s aborted gesture to the general area of your jeans makes you guffaw. “Oh, and you’re the reigning expert on girls’ business?”

“Sure am. King Steve, after all.” Said king juts an overeager thumb into his chest, winces, then gives his hand a little shake.

“Mmhm.” You slide across the couch cushions to take the joint again, knee knocking into Steve’s. “I’m pretty good at it too, y’know.”

Steve stares with wide eyes as you suck smoke into your lungs, blinking owlishly before stuttering- “You- you’re saying you’re pretty good at eating pu- at eating girls out?”

Another cackle looses from your chest along with the smoke, you can’t help it- Steve looks so properly shocked. “No, Steve, obviously I meant sucking dick. Not that I’d be opposed, per se, to a girl’s… business.”

The word drips in irony and Steve scrubs a hand down his face in irritation as you settle against the couch next to him, brushing shoulders as you continue. “Just aren’t enough girls in Hawkins to go for. Who are both out and not my friends,” you amend, before Robin can be dragged into the conversation against her will.

“You wouldn’t go down on a friend?” Steve fidgets a strip of paper Clark Bar wrapper between his fingers, crinkling quietly while he waits for your answer.

The weed has settled in your system now, a haze in your veins as you stub the roach out and leave it on the coffee table. You settle back into the couch, suddenly aware of every point of contact- thigh to thigh, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder with Steve, who’s seemingly paused his breathing.

“Uhm. Yeah. I’d sleep with a friend,” you say, staring at your lap, empty hands twisting around themselves.

The tension of the moment swells, you can feel it in your chest, even as Steve draws in a breath to muse, “Wonder who’s better at it.”

“Eating girls out?” You look at him to confirm, feeling a pang when you see the lock of chestnut hair that’s flopped from its place to rest against his forehead. “I mean… probably you. Seeing as you’ve got the most experience.”

Steve smiles, lazily, tipping his head in acknowledgement, then says, “I could teach you. If you wanted.”

If Steve feels the way you stiffen in response to his words he doesn’t point it out, instead tossing the wrapper aside in favor of taking your hand into his. “Only if you wanted, though.”

You start nodding before the words can come; a shaky “Okay,” and Steve’s wrapping two warm palms around your right hand, manipulating your fingers into making a fist.

“I like to start with kissing,” he says, voice low, gaze fixed on your combined hands. “Y’know. To work her up, get her wet.”

It’s not even technically dirty talk, but the pitch of Steve’s words make your thighs clench involuntarily, seeking friction. Steve brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the base of your thumb, and your breath hitches.

“And then I… usually…” Steve trails off, and you can see the gears turning in his head at how best to teach. Apparently, he pegs you for a hands-on learner, because instead of words, he dips down to lick a stripe up the flat of your thumb.

Your mouth falls open as Steve licks deftly into the crease made by your thumb and index finger, curling the point of his tongue near the base again, your clit throbbing in response as if he was actually between your legs.

Steve makes out with your hand for what feels like hours, all sense of time warped by the heady weed. His mouth is warm and wet, saliva dripping through to your palm as he holds you in place despite your squirming.

What’s really turning you on is how into this Steve appears to be- his eyes are closed as if to savor the moment, brow pinched with pleasure, little noises from the back of his throat sending vibrations down your arm.

You fight the urge to sink your free hand into those silky brown locks; instead, your nails bite into soft skin as you clench a fist at your side, willing the subtle movement of your hips with each stroke of Steve’s tongue to stay subtle.

There’s an obscene squelching noise filling the otherwise quiet basement, and this seems to spur Steve on, suckling at your sensitive skin, heat coursing through your body as you gasp out, “Steve…”

He pulls off your hand with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting you both, his mouth a glistening half-moon in the low light before he swipes the back of his hand across it. “So. Yeah. Something like that. You taste good, by the way. Sweet.”

You fight with the hinge of your lower jaw to put it back in its place, breathing heavily as you wipe your slick-coated hand against the leg of your jeans. It leaves a wet patch- likely not the only one, if the heartbeat between your legs is any indication. “Probably the gummy bears.”

“Uh huh. You think you’re any better?” Steve’s got that easy grin back on his face, cheeks rosy, lips flushed with color, too.

A quick glance down confirms that he’s hard as a rock, sizeable outline of his cock visible through the denim, betraying the bravado in his stance.

Oh, you’re gonna wreck him.

With an easy grin of your own, you reach for Steve’s hand. “Dunno. Wanna find out?”

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Chapter Twenty Eight

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit.

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse, talks of death, depressive thoughts.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I'm sorry if the smut is kind of lack luster. It's late and I really wanted to get this chapter out. Hope you all enjoy! Also, I'm sorry if none of the tags work, Tumblr is yet again being a pain in my ass.

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @teenblues @malice-ov-mercy @krisslee18 @xxkittenkissesxx @happi-goth @embracethereaper42 @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @bloody-delusion-expert @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @a1ex-ba1ex @sideeyenoah @emzandthevoid @badomensls @bellaboo967 @waake-mee-up @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @cncohshit @amelia-acero @karenfranco @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @bleachampion @thepastelfae @supersquirrel1996 @madomens @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

READER

“Angel.” 

A soft murmur of a voice brushed along the inside of my neck as I stirred in my sleep. Tender caresses ghosted over the chilled skin of my breasts, down my stomach towards the valley between my legs. Fingers danced over my clit and I arched up towards the touch, sleep still weighing heavy on my bones. 

I could feel the bright morning rays lingering over the bed, basking us in a glow so pure it made me stretch locked limbs to have it warm up my skin. 

“Y/N, my love.” The voice rasped again, lips brushing along my collar bone and a finger slipping inside of my walls. 

“Hmm,” I hummed as my eyes began to flutter open. 

Gazing down, I saw almond eyes staring up at me from between my legs; dark as the night sky that we found ourselves falling to last night. 

“Fuck,” I groaned while grasping at the sheets of our bed. 

“Already so wet,” Noah mused before flicking his tongue against my clit and slipping in another finger, spreading them wide inside of me. 

“Noah,” I panted and grasped his hair with such force, I heard a hiss fall from his mouth. 

“Happy birthday, angel.” 

A tender kiss inside of my thigh was the only warning I received before he began devouring me. He sucked and hummed against my clit while his fingers continued to pump in and out of me in quick succession. It was all a blur, sleep still clinging to me as I let my body react to Noah’s touch. I whined when his fingers slipped out of me, leaving me empty and desperate for more, only then for his tongue to spear inside of me. His moans of pleasure were downed out as I gripped his hair and pushed him farther into my center. The euphoric burn was all consuming ,every bit of my soul becoming one with Noah as he refused to let up. 

“Noah,” I panted, my orgasm teetering on the edge of explosion. 

His fingers gripped my thighs, nails leaving half crescent shaped moons in the tender flesh. I rode against his tongue, basking in the splendor that Noah was the only one to ever provide me. With a muffled shout behind my hand, I let go of the grip on my orgasm and allowed it to haul me into the void of white haziness, stars dancing in the corners of my vision. 

“Fuck,” Noah groaned after pulling himself away from my legs, my arousal soaking his chin. 

He made no move to wipe it away. 

I let my erratic heartbeat calm as I let out a deep breath, body falling limp against the bed just as Noah snuggled back up next to me.

“Now that is a wonderful way to wake up. Especially on my birthday,” I giggled while tracing the designs on his arm as it lay across my stomach. 

Noah pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” 

We lay there for a moment, enjoying the comfortable peace that always fell between us and I glanced over towards the patio doors of our bedroom, smiling at the sun and clear skies. 

“Should be a good day today,” I noted. 

“Hmm,” he agreed with a hum. “I wish I didn’t have to go to therapy. I should be with you.” 

I turned my head down towards him and brushed away the strays of hair from his eyes, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

“You’ll be gone for a couple of hours, not the whole day. It gives me time to do a little bit of shopping,” I reminded him as I reluctantly removed myself from his hold of long limbs, causing him to whine in protest. 

Standing on my toes, I stretched out my limbs to ease away whatever slumber still clung to my bones and nearly screeched when a stinging pain was felt against my ass. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched Noah as he wore a playful smirk while shaking out his hand. 

“That’s the start of your birthday spankings, angel.” 

I grabbed the pillow off of the bed and smacked him a few times with it, only for him to reach out for me, grabbing me and pulling me back down to the bed. Our laughter echoed throughout the four walls of our shared space as we rolled in the sheets, Noah’s fingers digging into my sides to tickle me. 

“I love you,” he breathed while running his lips over mine. “I thought I’d never hear that laugh again.” 

My heart dropped for a second, knowing that I scared him with how deep I let the darkness consume me back in Japan after my fathers funeral. Dragging my nails over his cheek softly, I gave him a bright smile. 

“Thank you for being there for me, mochi. That’s the darkest I’ve ever felt and I do not want to go back there,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

Something changed in the way Noah’s eyes glanced down at me, something plaguing inside of his mind but he never spoke his troubles, simply kissed the inside of my palm. 

“Is our plan still the same?” He wondered. 

I nodded. “I’ll meet you at Fika around noon for my special birthday lunch. And then the surprise you still won’t tell me about.”

Noah smirked wickedly before pecking my lips and rolling off of me. “If I tell you, that defeats the purpose of a surprise, angel.”

Groaning, I smacked the mattress before crossing my arms over my chest playfully. “You’re no fun.” 

“Really?” He stood tall at the end of our bed, naked muscles constricting as he placed his hands on his hips. His cock was still hard from earlier and I let my gaze linger on the dark hairs around it, up towards his stomach and lingering on his broad chest. “I’m pretty sure you were saying the opposite of that last night.”

My cheeks burned as I remembered what exactly we did last night but kept my comments to myself. Instead, I wrapped myself in a cocoon of blankets and sighed in content. 

“Since it’s my birthday, I’m going to sleep a little bit longer,” 

Noah tapped my feet underneath the blanket. “As you deserve, Y/N.”

Even hidden underneath the cocoon, I watched as he walked into the bathroom, biting my lip at the sight of his perfect ass. 

Two hours later, I was dressed in a vintage blue and white floral sundress that gathered mid thigh and the heels of my sandals smacked against the concrete as I walked towards one of my favorite art shops. Downtown was busier than ever, the warming sun bringing everyone out, and I did my best to carry three bags worth of supplies in my hands. My home studio was out of various paints, charcoal, and I was almost tempted to buy a new easel I’ve had my eyes on the last couple of weeks but the thought of having to drag that to my small car put a damper on those plans. 

“I should have asked Noah to borrow his SUV,” I muttered to myself. 

Giving a small smile to the crowds of people I brushed past and waving at a few fans that recognized me, I continued down the sidewalk with a bright smile. Usually, I’d stop and take pictures with the fans, conversing for a few minutes, but more recently, I’ve decided to become private with aspects of my life. Ever since the break up with Trey years ago, I was doing whatever I could to keep my mental peace strong. Thankfully, people respected my decision, especially when Noah and I would be seen out together. Of course rumors speculated, especially since we never publicly spoke on our relationship. But that was because we didn’t need to. We knew what we were and how much we meant to each other; it was nobody's business besides our own. 

As I came to a stop in front of a little outdoor bar patio, waiting for the cross traffic to halt so I could walk through the crosswalk, I hummed a tune to myself as the new lyrics I wrote a few days ago continued to bury a new home inside of my brain. I’d been itching to get into the studio ever since I returned home from Japan but never found the time. 

Feeling a gaze so hot against my back it made my skin sweat, I dared a glance over to the bar to my left, nearly choking on a breath at what I saw. The familiar name Rose tattooed on his hand, the head full of curls that seemed to have grown at an unruly length, and those familiar cold, dead eyes. 

Next to him was a woman, one that had unknowingly made my life absolute hell for months. It was never her intention, that I knew. The man's hand grazed over her exposed shoulder, tracing the designs of the butterfly tattoo. 

One cup of wine in front of her and nearly a whole bottle of vodka in front of him. 

Neither of them saw me, too busy in eye fucking each other, as Trey linked his fingers with Bailey’s, kissing the small rock on her left finger. My eyes widened when the realization sunk in and I couldn’t help but laugh. Laughing so hard that tears burned in the corners of my eyes, blinding me, and the snorts I let out resembled some kind of animal. 

No fucking way. 

“You sure you like it, baby?” Trey’s voice was worse than before, all of the nicotine and drugs he smoked slowly began destroying him from the inside out. 

Bailey, who looked like someone had pissed in her salad, gave a forced smile. “Y-yeah of course. Why wouldn’t I like it?” 

They had yet to see me as the hustle and bustle of the street kept me hidden. 

“I do plan on getting you something bigger but I’m just waiting for this deal to go through with this lame as record label. It’s bullshit Sumerian won’t take me after everything I did for them.”

I blanched with a slack jaw at how he thought the record label still owed him something years later. 

Bailey dragged a finger down his chest, cooing in his ear. “It’s alright baby. You’ll get your due. Those fuckers took everything from you.” 

Trey took a rather unhealthy gulp of vodka, wiping it away the excess saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Meeting you at that party was the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

My face screwed up in disgust as I watched them kiss, nearly forcing myself not to throw up as the little figure on the cross walk sign flickered green, I clutched my stomach, footsteps against the pavement. The sight of Bailey and Trey together was comical at best. It didn’t even bother me that Trey was in Los Angeles or the fact that they were clearly engaged. I felt absolutely nothing seeing them together. They were a perfect match, if I said so myself. 

Leaving the past behind me, literally, I saw my car parked out front of Fika and Dr. Poulos’ office. Jesse had dropped off Noah earlier for his appointment and we would drive back home together after our coffee date. With the supplies in my trunk, I leaned against the hood of my car to wait for Noah. 

When I parked in front of Fika and Dr. Poulos’ office hours ago, there was a shiny red car here with a blonde woman sitting in the driver's seat, screaming into her phone. Whatever or whoever was on the other line had her in a sour mood as I walked past her car on the way towards the art store. I remember glancing towards Dr. Poulos’ office, wondering how Noah’s session was going. 

Now the shiny red car was long gone as I watched through the window of Fika as Jolly and Astrid were slow dancing in the middle of the cafe, patrons smiling and laughing at them as he dipped her low. As I made a heart out of my hands towards them, Jolly playfully flipped me the bird but Astrid glanced at me with something different in her eyes. 

Sadness. 

I didn’t have time to question it because the front door of Dr. Poulos’ office opened, Noah stepping out into the bright sun and shielding his eyes for a moment. 

“Noah!” I waved at him, pushing off of my car and skipping over towards him. “You’ll never guess who I saw!” 

When those almond eyes locked on me, I came to a halt. There was something off with him, he wasn’t the bright, adorning, man that kissed me goodbye this morning. 

No, he was broken and almost back to that man I had first met on tour so long ago. 

“Mochi?” My voice trembled as I stood taller when he closed the distance between us. “Everything alright?” 

Noah’s jaw shook as his eyes were wet with tears; something it seemed he’d been dealing with for the last long while due to how red they were. 

“I-fuck,” he ran a hand through his onyx locks, trying so hard to keep his composure but ultimately failing. 

I cupped his cheeks, forcing him to gaze down at me. “What’s wrong?” 

Those dreaded four words that no one wants to hear rang out, blocking out the busy street around us, as my world began to fall away. 

“We need to talk.”

NOAH

Three Hours Earlier.

My hands shook with nerves, unable to get rid of this inner turmoil that plagued me since I woke this morning. I didn’t want to bother Y/N with it; not today. Today was about her. So instead I woke her up by being in my favorite place; between her legs. 

Running a hand over my face, I turned the corner, Dr. Poulos’ old brick office coming into view. Jesse had dropped me off down the block because he was meeting Tay at one of their favorite restaurants. I could smell the aroma of Fika’s signature lattes yet before I could smile, thinking of my coffee date with Y/N later, my eyes landed on the slim figure leaning up against a shiny red car parked out front, my footsteps nearly stumbling over each other. 

No. 

No. 

It can’t be her. 

It’s been nearly ten years but those cold, dead eyes looked exactly the same when she glanced away from her phone to follow the heated glare that was set upon her. The look of shock and then pure elation appeared in the deep lines of her forehead. Her still overly bleached blonde hair was tied back away from her face, showing her bright blue eyeshadow and deep red lips. 

Memories of how I fell so fast for her slammed into me without warning, causing me to take a few steps back. Everything I tried so hard to forget was at the forefront of my mind again and suddenly, I realized why this feeling had been dragging me down all morning. 

It was because of her that I’d been so fucked up when I first met Y/N. The woman in front of me had used me, cheated me, fucking broke me. Kicked me off the edge and laughed in my face when she did it. I was just barely eighteen when I thought she was the one for me. 

How foolish I was. 

“No fucking way! Noah?! I’d been wondering when we’d run into each other. I haven’t seen you since you left Virginia.” 

She came skipping up to me, doing whatever she could to show off her breasts that were barely covered by the top of her dress. My eyes never left the red car behind her, not giving her the satisfaction she was clearly desperate for. 

“Damn, I’ve been following Bad Omens for years. I’m so proud of you. You look so good. I’m kicking myself for letting you get away.” 

My eyes snapped over to her, filled with fury as her name came out in a choked sob. 

“Je-Jessica? What are you doing here?” 

She dragged a finger down my arm, over my sweater. “I moved here a few months ago but finally got a chance to explore everything LA. has to offer; including ex boyfriends.” 

I reared away from her touch as she tried to cup my face and my lips snarled. “You have a lot of fucking nerve to even talk to me, let alone touch me for what you did.” 

Jessica’s annoyingly perfect waxed eyebrows furrowed. “What did I do to you, Noah?”

I blanched at her, truly appalled that she was even questioning what she did. There was so much pent up anger I had no idea that was festing inside of me that I didn’t know what to do with it. For years, I thought I was over what happened between us, but now seeing her in front of me, it was clear that I was far from fucking over it. 

I close myself off from her by crossing my arms over my chest and shrugging off her touch. “You know exactly what you did, Jessica. I was about to give you everything, every aspect and part of my life. All for a goddamn lie!” 

My voice was raised causing the patrons on the outdoor patio of Fika to glance towards me with questionable eyes. One of their servers, who I spoke to a few times while there, gave me a firm smile before ushering inside undoubtedly to tell Astrid. 

Shit. 

“Noah,” Jessica’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard as she purposely put herself in front of my vision, blocking the door to Dr. Pouls’ office. “I can’t believe you’re still upset about what happened.”

Grisly eyes sliced into her as my jaw ticked, hands clenching at my sides while I tried so hard not to wring her dainty neck. Murder was definitely not the answer and I could not afford for someone to record this to post it online. 

Noah Sebastian breaks the neck of his lying piece of shit ex girlfriend.

“You’re a vindictive person, Jessica. You sunk your claws so deep into me, it fucked me up for years after I moved away. It took me so long, countless therapy appointments to grow from what happened. I’m finally in a relationship that makes me feel like how I should have been treated at eighteen. I nearly lost her because of my fucked up brain” I stabbed the side of my head with a finger, further putting my point across. 

“She accepts me for who I am and all of my faults. She would never think to do to me what you did. You want to know why?” I questioned while cocking my head to the side, yet I didn’t even give a chance to answer before my lips snarled. “Because she loves me.”

Jessica let out a long breath while tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Everyone says you're single.” 

I scoffed. “I fucking poured out my feelings to you, about how you fucked me up, and the only thing you took from it is that I’m dating someone?” 

She rolled her eyes and reached a hand out to cup my face, her acrylics dragging over my cheekbone. “It can’t be serious. You were never one for long term relationships, Noah. We both know that.” 

“Fuck you!” I seethed. 

Jessica smirked. “All you have to do is ask. Is your number the same? I can come over when she’s gone.”

I stood frozen under her touch, unable to move as her venom seeped into my veins. There was nothing I could do. That was until I heard a throat clearing behind us and I saw a flash of ice white hair which broke the trap Jessica had wrapped me under.

“Everything alright?” Astrid questioned in her most polite voice she could muster even though I could tell with the way her eyes narrowed in on Jessica that she was furious. 

Pushing her hand away from me, I took a large step away from Jessica and squared my shoulders. “Time has hit you differently but I know you haven’t changed. You’re still the same woman you were almost ten years ago. I left behind everything you killed inside and I refuse to let you break everything I had built inside of me.” 

I pointed a finger to my chest, more importantly my heart. “I’m finally with someone who gives me everything I deserve. I love her with every part of my soul and heart. I’m not going to let someone from my past who clearly has their own issues they need to work through fuck it up.” 

Blowing out a shaky breath, I ran a hand through my hair so she could look straight into my eyes when I said my final words. 

“There’s so much more I could say to you about everything you put me through but I’m trying so hard to be a better man; not only for Y/N but for me as well. So, from the bottom of my heart, I hope you find someone that can love you the way you deserve. But I’m done with this conversation.”

Jessica blinked before taking a step towards me. “Noah-.” 

Astrid was quick to slip up next to me, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t think so, sweetie.”

“Who the hell are you?” Jessica yelled, finally realizing Astrid. “Are you his girlfriend?” 

“No,” a deep and even angrier voice rumbled behind us, Jolly coming to stand on my other side. “We’re Noah’s family and I believe he told you he was done with you and this conversation.”

Her eyes darted between all three of us before lingering on mine for a few beats, almost waiting for me to falter and slip into her again. 

Like hell. 

“Fool me once and all the love was lost. Paper-thin your words, they haunted my dreams for years. The seams have finally come undone,” I stood tall while crossing my arms over my chest. 

Finally realizing she was defeated, Jessica adjusted the strap of her bag before stomping back into her car, the door slamming echoed down the street. 

While Astrid kept a hard gaze on Jessica, making sure she didn’t get out of her car again, Jolly placed a hand on my shoulder. While he never met her, he was fully aware of what she did to me. 

“What did she want?” He asked. 

A muscle in my jaw ticked as I tried so hard to calm myself, not wanting to storm into my therapy appointment. 

“I guess she recently moved here. She acted innocent, Jolly. Acted like what she did to me was nothing.” 

He let out a long breath and glanced over his shoulder to the shiny red car where Jessica was still sitting behind the wheel. 

“I didn’t even know she was in Los Angeles,” my voice wavered. “I let her touch me. Fuck!”

Astrid’s gentle hand rested on my back. “Noah, please don’t beat yourself up about this. I don’t know who she is exactly or what she did to you but I do know the kind of man you are. So does Y/N.”

At the mention of her name, my heart race began to increase. It was a constant pounding in my chest and I felt the world around me tilt on its axis. 

“Please don’t tell her,” I begged both Jolly and Astrid. “I don’t have time to call her otherwise I’m going to be late for therapy.”

Jolly raised a brow. “You’re going to tell her, right?” 

I swallowed thickly. “Yeah, sure.”

The two shared a look, one that read they didn’t believe me, so trying to avoid another conversation, I motioned towards Dr. Poulos’ office. 

“I’m going to be late,” I grumbled under my breath.

Not bothering to hear their calls after me, I stormed into the office, my rage all consuming from the conversation with Jessica. How had she managed to get underneath my skin this bad? It had been so long since I’d felt this way and it scared me to death knowing that I couldn't face this head on. There was so much more I wanted to say to her, now as I thought back on the conversation. 

“I’m going to take a quick lunch and grab some coffee next door-,” Dr. Poulos spoke to the receptionist but when her eyes saw me from behind her glasses, she let out a breath. “Cancel my lunch and next appointment, Laura. I’m going to be busy.”

My hands shook at my sides as I tried to do the breathing exercises she taught me but it was ultimately failing. Like everything else. 

Dr. Poulos extended her arm towards her office. “Come on, Noah.” 

Brushing past her inside of the office, I began pacing the room back and forth, creating an indent into the already worn carpet. She clicked her pen and adjusted the dreaded notebook in her lap; the one that was already filled with notes from our sessions. Dr. Poulos said nothing, simply tapped the pen against her knee while I continued to pace the room, my breath erratic. It felt like every inch of my skin was on fire, wanting to burn off Jessica’s touch from it. I rubbed the spot on my arm raw, nails digging into the flesh hoping it would peel away from my bones. 

She lost the right to touch me. To look at me. To utter my fucking name after the way she left me broken and defeated. 

After a few moments, Dr. Poulos cleared her throat while sitting farther up in her chair. 

“Did you want to talk about who that woman was I saw you talking to?” 

My head snapped over to her, looming over her small frame. I grit my teeth, jaw aching, as I desperately wanted to tell Dr. Polous to fuck off and storm out of here. 

Fuck therapy. Fuck Jessica. And fuck these feelings that were gnawing away at my insides. 

I didn’t need Dr. Poulos. 

I needed a drink. 

I needed to hit something. 

I needed to talk with Nicholas, he would know what to do. He understood the history between Jessica and I better than anyone. 

I needed Y/N.

Running a shaking hand through my hair, I let out a very long and uneven breath, the thought of Y/N flooding my mind; her bright smile and her ethereal laugh. 

Broken and defeated, I fell back onto the leather couch and dragged my hands up and down my thighs. I’d come so far in these weekly therapy sessions, so much so that I was proud of the man I was becoming; not only for me but for Y/N as well. 

“That was Jessica,” I finally spoke, gnawing on my bottom lip. 

Dr. Poulos’ eyes widened behind her glasses but she was quick to hide her surprise. “The one that-?” 

I scoffed, the indignation dominating every part of who I was yet again. “The one who lied to me at eighteen years old that she was pregnant with my child and then faked a miscarriage as a way to keep herself bound to me.”

My knee bounced with aggravation, those memories sinking their fangs into my jugular and dragging me back to the depths of the past I tried so hard to forget. 

“I was ready to give my entire fucking life to her, forget my dreams of a band, so I could stay back in Virgina and help raise this mirage of a baby. The most fucked up part? I found out she lied about the whole thing when I caught her photoshopping ultrasound pictures with her name.” 

Dr. Poulos didn’t bother to write any of this down. All of this was pages prior in the notebook with my name on the cover. But she pursed her lips, her question lingering on them for a moment. 

“Have you told Y/N about Jessica?” 

My stomach dropped and nearly fell out of my ass. I kept my gaze trained hard on the out of date carpet at my feet, not wanting to reveal my answer. Even though I knew Dr. Poulos knew. She wanted me to say it out loud. 

“Noah,” she sighed. 

My head snapped up as a broken sob left my lips. “No, she doesn’t. And I’m so fucking afraid that if I do tell her, she’ll leave. What kind of woman wants a guy with this much baggage?” 

She bit the inside of her cheek, slowly closing the book in her lap and set it on the table between us. Then steepling her fingers together on her lap, Dr. Poulos let out a very long breath. 

“Noah, you’ve been seeing me every week for over a year now. It’s been quite some time to where you found yourself feeling like this. It took a lot of sessions for you to realize that everything you’ve gone through was not your fault. Every part of the man I see sitting in front of me took a lot of self reflection and soul searching. You broke yourself free from the binds that tethered you to who you used to be. We both know that Y/N would not think anything less of you because you ran into an ex girlfriend.”

There was no need to hold back the tears any longer, it wouldn’t have been the first time I cried in my therapy sessions. And it damn sure wouldn’t be the last time.

“But-,” my words were cut off by my sniffles causing Dr. Poulos to extend over the tissue box, gratefully taking two. “I’ve kept this secret from Y/N for years. How do I know she won’t leave me because of it?

She waited a moment for me to blow my nose into the tissue before replying. “Noah, I think we’re both quite aware of the love you and Y/N hold for each other. The growth between you two, separately and together, has been remarkable to watch. All because of you two communicating. Do you think it would be healthy to take such large steps backwards in your relationship by not telling her about Jessica?”

I sat laxed on the couch of her office even though I felt anything but relaxed. My knee continued to bounce in agitation and my heart rate had yet to calm. I could feel my blood flow through my body and it felt like I was about to throw up all of my breakfast on Dr. Poulos’ floor. I was already over my run in with Jessica, finding a way to cope with that part of my life long ago. It was more so the future conversation I had to have with Y/N that was eating away at me. 

Dr. Poulos leaned back in her chair and crossed a leg over one another. “Do you think the past trauma with Jessica faking a pregnancy has made it difficult to talk about future children with Y/N?”

There was a sudden large lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow. 

So answer me, how am I supposed to deal with this?

“You know her history, doc. Kids aren’t in our future,” I reminded her while rubbing a hand up and down my thigh, sniffing away the tears. 

“Endometriosis doesn't necessarily mean you two can’t have kids, Noah. It just makes conception extremely difficult.”

You're innocent and pure, I'm worthless to the world. Tell me why you picked me over her.

I somberly nodded and gave a weak shrug. “I know. But Y/N and I don’t talk about kids enough. I usually don't bring up the subject because I know how sensitive it is for her.” 

The sound of the clock on the wall behind Dr. Poulos ticked away, reminding me that soon I’d have to face Y/N. But for now, I had to face the question still lingering in the air. 

“Did you still want kids?” She questioned. 

“More than anything,” I admitted without missing a beat. “But I’ve accepted that there’s a high chance it won’t happen for us. And I’m okay with that. As long as I’ve got Y/N, Salem, and Kuma, I’m happy. They’re my family.” 

Dr. Poulos could see the light slowly flickering to life behind my eyes so not wanting to divulge back towards Jessica, already saying everything I had to say about her, she gave me a warm smile. 

“How’s Kuma adjusting, by the way?”

I snorted a laugh while throwing the tissues into the garbage can across the room, never missing. 

“Really good. It was a bit rough at first getting him and Salem acclimated. But we all found ourselves in a comfortable routine.”

“I’m glad, Noah. Truly. Given everything you both went through in Japan,” Dr. Poulos reached for her book, clicking open her pen. “Speaking of Japan, we never finished discussing last week what the email from Mason said regarding the song with Keaton.”

Immediately I remember the email still sitting in my inbox, waiting for a reply. The task was daunting and if I was being honest, there was a part of me that thought I wasn't good enough for it. My heart felt even heavier than before, anchoring to the deep depths of my stomach, when I thought of my friend and how much I missed him. It’s been awhile since he passed but the thought was still pretty raw, cutting deep. As I relayed our last phone conversation, that all too familiar feeling of someone wrapping their hand around my throat was nearly debilitating and I could feel all the oxygen leave my lungs. 

It’s okay.

Taking a deep breath, I curtly nodded before divulging more on what the email from Mason exactly said. 

READER

My mind was racing so fast, it felt like my brain had broken in half as I tried so hard to put the pieces back together. Sweat dropped down my spine even with the sudden cool L.A breeze and my palms were sticky as I rubbed them along my sides. When Noah and I first decided to cut out the coffee date, instead deciding to sit in a park down the block so he could talk to me about something, the last thing I expected him to tell me was that. 

“Angel?” Noah’s voice was quiet as he hesitantly reached for my hand before deciding against it. 

Clearing my throat, I turned towards him on the park bench so I could look directly in his eyes.

“You do not have a kid, correct?” 

Noah maintained direct eye contact with me the entire time. “I swear to you, Y/N Y/L/N, I do not have a child. Jessica made up the entire thing as a way to keep me in Virginia.”

He was still too far away from me, the space between us causing my soul to yearn for him, so I tenderly reached for his hand, bringing it to my lips to lay a kiss on each of his finger tattoos. 

“I appreciate you telling me, Noah. Even though you didn’t need to,” I assured him. 

The fear in his eyes softened as he hurriedly brought me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me, breathing me in. Our souls connected, as they always did, and our heart beats became one. 

“I was so afraid to tell you, angel,” he breathed into my hair. “I thought you were going to leave.” 

Squeezing his side, I glanced up at him as the sunlight that broke through the cloud casted a glow over the freckles on his nose. 

“Even if you did have a kid, Noah, I wouldn’t leave you,” I admitted, even though the sheer terror that ran through my blood when he uttered those words “she told me she was pregnant” made me believe my world was about to end. 

But Noah explained the entire thing on how his ex faked a pregnancy and then a miscarriage when he began to question things about the pregnancy. Needless to say the relationship was over and Noah was back to couch hopping. 

“I thought this conversation was going to go a different direction,” Noah spoke, his chest rumbling underneath me. “I didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”

My nails dragged over the skin underneath his sweater leaving goosebumps in my wake. “There’s no way you could ruin my birthday, mochi. I appreciate you telling me the truth and I’m glad you were able to talk about it in therapy.”

Noah agreed with a simple hum and we let the noise of the birds in the trees, cars driving by, and laughter of the kids playing on the play set lull away the rest of the anxiety we were feeling. There was no way I would be upset with Noah. It happened during a part of his life before he knew me. Although, I was thankful he told me about the encounter with her and how Astrid and Jolly were there. 

“Shit,” I sat up with a start and smacked his chest. “I almost forgot to tell you! Guess who I saw down at Ramanos?”

“The bar around the block?” Noah asked with furrowed brows. 

“Yep,” I nodded while popping the ‘P’.

He brushed away a strand of hair from my eyes, twirling it between his fingers. “Who?”

“Trey and Bailey! Together. Engaged!” My voice was raised a few octaves causing a few people to turn their heads in our direction. 

Noah choked on something before letting out a roar of laughter. “Is the universe trying to tell us something today?” 

“I guess we both needed closure on parts of our lives we didn’t know we needed,” I suggested with a shrug. 

I wasn’t sure if it was the way the sun hit his eyes or water from the fountain we were sitting next too sparkled against those almond orbs, but something in the way Noah looked at me gave way to the closure he’d been looking for as well. 

“You sure you’re not upset? You don’t want to find Jessica and run her over with your car?” 

I snorted. “God no. I’m more upset for you for how she treated you back then but like the Bailey and Trey situation, I’ve learned to take the high road.” 

Quickly rising to his feet, Noah brought me with him and tossed his arm over my shoulder, leading me out of the park towards my car. 

“Alright, that’s enough talk of the past. This is still your day and we’ve got a lot more to do,” he brushed a kiss along the side of my head. 

“And what does that entail?” I tried to probe out of him. 

Noah winked. “It’s a surprise.”

MICHAEL 

“SURPRISE!” 

Y/N halted in the middle of the doorway, pure shock and fear on her face, and Noah stood not too far behind her with his phone up and recording. She took in the sight of all of us packed into our house to celebrate her before turning towards Noah and capturing his lips in a kiss. I watched from my position in the kitchen with an eagerness to find whatever they had. It was evident that they were in love and were with each other forever. It was a long wrong for them, one that was paved with heartbreak and growth, but to see them on the other side so happy, It made me smile despite my own sadness. 

As Y/N made her rounds between all of the guests, I sauntered back into the kitchen to make sure we were still stocked up with drinks and snacks; pizza arriving in an hour. Jesse and Tay were leaning against the kitchen counter, whispering something to each other, as I opened the fridge to reach for a beer. 

“What’s wrong?” Tay asked. 

I shrugged while popping off the cap to the chilled bottle. “I’m fine.” 

Her bright eyes narrowed in on me, decticing my lie almost immediately. 

“You know your lip does this weird twitchy thing when you lie, right?” 

Running a hand over my mouth, I set down the beer bottle onto the counter and let out a long breath. 

“I guess, I see what all of you guys have and sometimes, a part of me wonders if I’ll ever get anything even close to it.”

Jesse gave me a small smile. “You’ll find your special someone, Michael.”

“Yeah,” Tay agreed while wrapping her arms around Jesse’s midsection as he pulled her into him. “I hate to sound cliche but she’ll come around when you’re not even looking.” 

Downing half of the beer in one go, I shrugged yet again. “Doubt it. I’m beginning to think that maybe that made up shit about love at first sight isn’t meant for me.”

I glanced over towards Noah and Y/N, who was squealing with delight when Nicholas brought out his tattooing equipment in the living room. 

“Birthday tattoos?” She gazed up at Noah.

He bent low to kiss her, his hands around his waist. “We have to keep the tradition going, angel.” 

“What are you going to get?” Faye asked from her position on the couch, wrapped underneath Matt’s arm. 

Y/N made a mock tapping on her chin, pretending that she was thinking about it. “A duck.”

Noah choked on his drink, nearly spewing it all over his sweater, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Why a duck?” He wondered, wiping his chin. 

"Well,” she began while sitting on the couch and extending her leg towards Nicholas so he could prep the area of her right ankle. “According to the fanbase, they see you as a duck so I guess that’s why I’m going to get it."

The stare they shared was strong and vibrant, the aura of their connected souls radiating light in the empty air around all of us. Most of us have been here since the beginning of Y/N and Noah’s relationship, so we knew how much this moment meant to them. 

Noah sat on the arm rest of the couch next to Y/N and placed a kiss on top of her head. “Well, I guess I’m getting a crow tattooed then.”

As much as I loved my friends, seeing most of them in happy relationships while I found myself struggling with the notion of being single day after day was becoming a little daunting. With a tight hold around my beer, I swiftly turned on my heels in an effort to quietly sneak up stairs to my room only to run into a smaller frame, nearly knocking both of us to the ground. 

“Shit! Sorry!” I rushed out, hands capturing the person's elbows to keep us steady. 

Hazel eyes stared up at me from behind a pair of red cat eye glasses and I felt all of the air leave my lungs like I’d been punched in the gut.

Almost like you had your breath stolen from you? 

“It’s okay, I promise. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” the small voice snapped me out from staring at the freckles that covered her entire face, not hidden underneath makeup. 

Her lips, however, were bright and matched the color of her glasses and I couldn’t stop the thought of wanting to know what they tasted like.

I had yet to remove my hands from the small of her back, instead my fingers absentmindedly rubbing circles. 

“You’re Michael, right?” The woman asked. 

I numbly nodded, still in a trance because of her eyes. 

“I’m Lori. I’m in one of the same art classes with Y/N. She’s been bugging me for weeks to come over to meet you but I just could never find the time.” 

Lori. 

I was still rendered speechless, unable to form a coherent word or thought because of the way her eyes devoured my soul. 

Is this that cheesy shit Noah would ramble on and on about?

In the corner of my vision, I saw Jesse roll his eyes while linking fingers with Tay. As they walked past me, he smacked me upside the head to wake me up. 

“Talk to her you dumbass,” he grumbled behind me before he and Tay left us alone. 

Clearing my throat, I finally removed my hands from her back to rub them on my jeans, suddenly very nervous to talk to a pretty woman. 

“Would you like a drink?” I managed to spit out, thankfully in the correct order. 

Lori smiled sweetly at me. “I’d love one.”

NOAH

With a sigh, exhaustion creeping into my bones from a long afternoon of vocal lessons and then an intense training session with Ash, I was ready to fall into bed with Y/N as soon as I stepped through the door. I’d been seeing Melissa once a week in hopes to perfect my voice better for the upcoming tracks I had to record, for Bad Omnes and another special project. 

Y/N’s birthday was a few days ago and even given what happened before her surprise party with Jessica, I felt our relationship had evolved. No longer did I have that looming fear that something was going to snatch her away from me and the anxiety that I felt when I woke up that morning was nothing but a fading memory. 

I was ready for Y/N and I to finally take the next step in our relationship. I did bring up the idea of kids again to her later that night when we were snuggled up in bed together; her answer still lingering in the cage of my heart. 

“I want nothing more than to have a family with you, Noah Sebastian. But I don’t think it’s in the cards for us. We’d need a big miracle for that.”

“Shit,” I whined when I came to a sudden stop right in front of the door.  

I had forgotten that Y/N was going out with the girls tonight meaning my night in with her would have to be replaced with Michael, Jesse, Kuma and Salem; who finally was warming up to the idea of another fur member in the house with him. It didn’t bother me that Y/N was going out tonight, in fact I was thrilled. She needed a night where she didn’t have to worry about me or others; a night with friends where she can let go. Something Y/N needed after we returned home from Japan a few weeks ago. 

As I stepped through the front door, the cool air breezing over my sticky skin, I paused when I heard two voices singing in perfect harmony and glanced over to the kitchen, my heart nearly bursting out of my chest. 

Jesse was holding an even bigger than yesterday Kuma while Michael was cuddling Salem in his arms and they moved about the kitchen, a familiar tune playing from the Alexa speaker. Yet my eyes were stuck on the angel that sat on the kitchen counter with her legs dangling in the air. Y/N wore my red sweater with the hood pulled up over her head and her ethereal voice rang throughout the house. 

“Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy?” 

Her smile radiated light as Michael’s voice tangled with hers and he grabbed her hand to bring her off the kitchen counter as all three of them danced together in the kitchen, oblivious to me who was standing in the entryway still, with an idea suddenly striking me. 

Their voices are perfect for it. 

Quickly pulling out my phone from my side bag, I typed out a message to Matt. 

Me: I figured out who the final feature could be. 

Matthew: Who? 

Still going undetected by the concert in the kitchen, I sat against the back of the couch and replied to Matt. 

Me: Can I come over tonight? It’ll be easier to explain face to face.

Me: And don’t give me some bullshit excuse about you having plans with Faye. I know she’s going out with Y/N tonight. 

Mattew: Only if you bring Kuma. Zeus and Boo want a playdate.

Me: I’ll be there around five.

“Hey you!” Y/N’s voice snapped my head away from my phone and I rose from the couch. 

“Hi, angel,” I smiled after kissing her sweet lips and motioned towards the kitchen. “Having fun?” 

“Yeah,” she bent low to pick up Kuma as he trotted over towards us. “We were singing and then Just Pretend came on. I’m honestly a bit surprised at how well mine and Michael’s voice harmonize together.” 

I scratched at Kuma’s ears, agreeing with a hum. “What time are you leaving?” 

“I’m actually going to start getting ready. Unless you wanted to get dinner instead?” She asked.

“No, Y/N. You deserve a night out with the girls. I’m going to take Kuma over to Matt’s for a puppy play date,” I took Kuma from her arms, him licking my sweat slick skin. 

Her lips jutted out in a pout to which I quickly seized in a kiss. “No arguing, angel. Go get ready. I’m going to head to Matt’s.”

“Love you,” she mused against my lips before smacking my ass, skipping towards our bedroom. 

“Love you too! Be safe!” I called after her and then looked towards the large puppy in my arms. “Do you want to go play with Zeus and Boo?” 

A deep bark was my answer. 

Three Hours Later

My knee bounced with agitation as I held a firm grip on my phone. I wasn't angry with Y/N; far from it. I wanted her back home so I could have her bent over my knee, punishing her for all of the texts she sent me tonight. 

While she was getting ready earlier, I left to go to Matt’s and when I came back a few hours ago, Y/N was long gone. I wasn't able to see what she was wearing until she sent me a selfie of her in the bathroom mirror at the restaurant they were at. My eyes zoned in on her necklace and bracelet as it glimmered under the low light. 

Angel 🪽: What, you don't like my red dress? 

Me: You know I'm a sucker for you in red. I want to rip it off of you. 

Me: Actually, I want to fuck you with it on. 

Y/N kept me waiting for almost two hours for a reply. I did everything I could to keep my mind on something else and not the hard-on in my joggers. I read, cleaned the house, took Kuma for a walk, and was currently sitting on the couch with Jesse and Michael, definitely not paying attention to the movie. 

When my phone buzzed, I nearly fell off the couch reaching for it. 

"Someone misses Y/N," Jesse teased while ruffling my hair. 

I shot him a look: you're the one to talk. 

Angel 🪽: Don't make promises you can't keep, mochi. 

Raising a brow, I discreetly adjusted my position on the couch so I was laying down, away from the guys. 

Me: Are you getting sassy with me, angel? Do I need to keep you in line?

Angel 🪽: What are you going to do to me?

Quickly glancing towards the guys and noticing they couldn't see my phone, I typed out my response. 

Me: I'm going to tie your hands behind your back and force you over my knee while I smack your ass with my belt. Then when you're crying out in pain, I'm going to push you to your knees and watch as you take my entire cock in your mouth, choking on it. You're going to get so wet that you're going to leave a puddle on the carpet. If you're still sassy, I'm going to make you lick it up. 

Me: Or I'm going to cum all over that pretty face of yours. I haven't decided yet. 

My dick was aching for some sort of release and I couldn't help myself from looking at the picture Y/N sent me again. Not even two minutes later, she responded and I nearly dropped the phone on my face. 

Angel 🪽: You better go buy some binds then. I'll be home in an hour. 

Smacking my thighs, I rose from the couch and bid a goodbye to the guys. 

"Where are you headed?" Michael wondered. 

Pocketing my keys and placing a hat low on my head, I motioned to the door. "I'm going to run and get some ice cream for Y/N. She should be home soon." 

I was definitely not going to buy her some ice cream. 

Well, maybe I could buy some and use it in other ways.

READER

The house was eerily quiet, not even the old bones creaking with the evening wind. The only light was the one illuminating from above the kitchen sink and when I checked the time on my phone, I internally cringed. I was supposed to be home almost an hour ago but by the time I said goodbye to the girls and made it back to my car, Noah had sent me a very risque video; one I watched in the solitude of my car. 

Him dragging his hand up and down his cock, his sinful moans echoing in the space of our bathroom. 

“Need you so bad, angel.”

Both Salem and Kuma were missing as well but I chalked that up to them sleeping upstairs with Jesse and Michael. They often swapped fur babies for the night, except when Tay spent the night and she wanted double fur snuggles. 

"Noah?" I called out when I finally stepped into our even darker bedroom, only to be met with an ear ringing silence. 

My hand smacked against the wall, looking for the light switch, but I let out a scream when a hand wrapped around my throat from behind, cool leather pressing against the heated skin as a deep voice spoke.

"You're late."

Goosebumps pricked at my skin as I found myself leaning into the broad chest against my back.

“I would have been here earlier if someone didn’t distract me with a certain video,” I tossed back at the voice over my shoulder. 

He breathed me in then let go of his grip around my throat, pushing me forward slightly and I tried to maneuver my way through the dark until suddenly, the bedside table lamp clicked on, a warm ashen glow showcasing the man that stood on the other side of the bed, it creating a barrier between us. Noah was blanketed in his own darkness as he slowly removed the hood of his jacket, his face covered by the black ski mask; him adorning his entire stage attire. 

Fuck. He remembered. 

One night, I let it slip to Faye on what one of my biggest sexual fantasies was to which she urged me to bring it up to Noah which I did. He responded with a wink, nothing more. 

Now, he pointed to my dress. “Keep that on and get on your stomach on the bed.” 

My pussy clenched, slick with arousal ever since I watched the video; more than once. Not wanting to disobey him, I laid on my stomach on the soft bed which dipped behind me as Noah knelt. 

“So pretty,” he mused while lifting up the hem of my dress over my ass. 

“Noah,” I whined. 

A swift smack to my ass seized whatever words I was about to utter. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night, angel. I don’t want to hear a sound out of you while you receive your punishment, understood?” Noah’s eyes zoned in on my round ass in front of him. 

All I could pay attention to was the way he looked behind the mask which didn’t please him so he laid another hard smack to my ass, causing me to cry out into the palm of my hand. 

“Hm, good girl,” he praised. 

The darkness that laced his voice suddenly was no longer as he leaned his body over towards my ear. “If it gets to be too much, Y/N, say Mercy. Alright?”

I couldn’t hide my eagerness as I nodded. “Keep going.” 

The only sound that lingered in the air of our bedroom was the sound of skin on skin as Noah laid smack after smack against my ass; so red already. When he felt like I had enough, he rolled me onto my back so I could gaze up at him. 

“How wet are you, angel?” He wondered, dragging a finger over my panties. “I can feel how soaked your panties are. Was it the video or the spankings?”

I swallowed. “Both.” 

Hooking a finger through the waistband, he ripped them down my legs before bunching the material of my dresses over my stomach. His large hands held onto my knees with a bruising force, spreading me wide for him. 

“I fucking knew it,” he said while dipping a finger between my folds, my moan getting caught in my throat. 

Noah was knuckle deep as he fingered me hard and fast.

"Oh god," I buried my face into the crook of my arm, my orgasm already so close to the brink of collapse. 

Noah’s large body loomed over my face, nipping at my bottom lip. “Remember angel, there's no God here, just us."

“Fuck. Feels so good, Noah," I gasped when he slipped another finger inside of me.

He curled them inside of me, bringing me closer to the edge of bliss. It felt like all of my senses were heightened yet before I could finally drown in it, Noah slipped away from me leaving me empty. Before I could protest, his mouth devoured mine in a kiss so dizzying, I grasped at his jacket to keep myself grounded. 

“I got a surprise for you, angel,” he muttered into the kiss before rolling off of me, disappearing to the side of the bed and tossed a bag full of goodies next to me. 

Holy shit.

“Noah,” I panted, body wrecked from yet another orgasm denial. “I can-I can’t do this anymore.” 

The metal handcuffs dug into my wrists as my arms were pulled tight behind my back, exposing my breasts to Noah, who was lying underneath me with a smug smile on his face. After fucking me deep into the bed while I still wore my dress, he managed to pull out of me seconds before either of us came apart. 

Not to mention the fact that he forgot to buy condoms earlier but I reminded him there was no need for us to use one. There were plenty of times we weren’t exactly safe but due to my endometriosis, the rate of conception was extremely low. 

“What’s the matter, angel? Tapping out already?” Noah cocked his head to the side, assessing me with a predatory gaze. 

“P-please. I feel like my body is about to explode. I just want to cum, this isn't fair,” I whined which made him press the vibrator harder against my clit and I cried out. 

Noah had it on the highest setting and everytime I felt like I was about to convulse on the dildo that was fully settled inside of me, he would yank the vibrator away. 

He leant up his face towards me so I could feel his warmth breath across my lips. “What’s not fair is you sending those texts and pictures to me all night knowing I can't do anything about it.” 

My lips parted to apologize, even though we both knew I didn’t need to. It was all part of this game. But Noah was quick to lift me from the bed and roughly force me to my knees, a playful gleam in my eyes. In my naughty texts from earlier, I may have let it slip that I wanted him to be rough tonight. 

Noah towered over me from my spot on the floor of our bedroom and his cock was so close to my face, I nearly darted my tongue out to lick up the precum that seeped out of the slit. 

Shortly after he fucked me in my dress, he tore away both of our clothes, before handcuffing my wrists together. While Noah had been denying both of us orgasms all night, he also denied me touching him. Any time I tried, he would whip me with the leather belt that was currently hanging over the headboard. My ass was raw with marks covering every inch of skin, and I fucking loved it. 

Noah’s calloused but gentle hand cupped my cheek, forcing our eyes to lock. 

“Safe word?” He whispered into the darkness of the bedroom, only illuminated by the red LEDs behind our bed. 

I pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I’m good, Mochi.” 

Suddenly darkness bled those eyes black and he leaned closer to my face with a tight grip around his thick cock. 

“Good because you’re going to sit there like the good slut I know you to be and open that pretty little mouth of yours so I can paint it with my cum.”

His voice was gone, overcum with the lust that consumed all of him, and it nearly vibrated against his broad chest. 

“If you disobey, well I think we know what’s going to happen,” Noah thread the belt between his hand to snap the leather together, the noise echoing throughout the room. 

I jumped but nodded eagerly. “I’ll be a good girl. I’ll listen.” 

His thumb now grazed over my cheek. “Then open up for me, angel.” 

I obeyed. 

“Fuck,” Noah bit down on the back of my shoulder, digging his fingers into the flesh of my ass. His cock twitched inside of me as he held onto his breath. 

“Angel, I can’t-I can’t hold it. I’m so close-.” Noah admitted through gritted teeth. 

With my face still pressed deep into the mattress by his large hand, I pressed my ass farther back into him. My body was completely wrecked from the last three orgasms he forced out of me with the black rose vibrator, and I was desperate to finally hear him let go after denying himself all night. 

“Please Noah,” I managed to say. “Please, I need it. I need you to fill me up.”  

“Fucking hell, angel,” he dragged nearly all of his cock out of my pussy, slowly fucking me with the head before sinking himself all the way in again. 

I glanced over my shoulder at him and watched with  euphoria as Noah’s eyes rolled back when he let his head fall back, nearly choking on a breath. With a groan so sinful it made my spine ignite and two more hand snaps of his hips, he finally spilled himself inside of me. 

“Take all of it,” Noah demanded before collapsing his large frame over mine on the bed, cock still buried deep inside of me. 

We lay there in a mess of sweat, cum, and tangled limbs when Noah finally pushed himself off of me, the emptiness I felt between my legs paling in comparison to the cum dripping down the inside of my thigh. 

He pressed a delicate kiss to my shoulder as he lay next to me. “You sure you’re alright?” 

I gave him a blissful smile, still not being able to open my eyes. “I’m more than alright.” 

“Good,” Noah swept away the matted hair from my face just as I slowly opened my eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, mochi,” I lazily kissed the tattoos adorning his chest before letting sleep finally pull me under. 

[pedge-page]

i love your preggo wife drabbles soo much!!! could you write one where joel takes care of reader with her morning sickness? 🫶🏻

Joel dealing with Preggo Reader: Morning Sickness

Notes: Idk why I keep making reader so mean but he's such a trooper! I'm also no pregnancy expert obviously so plz take my minimal effort in research with a grain of salt.

Warnings: mean reader, language, vomitting, morning sickness

- - - -

"I hate your penis."

Joel rolls his eyes. It's only the 11th time you've said it today while being hunched over the toilet, with Joel caringly hovering over you, holding your hair out of the way as you take a deep breath and hurl the breakfast he made you this morning.

"I hate—"

"I know, sweet pea. Just breathe."

You nod in an almost drunken state. He knows its because you've got no energy in you to really fight him, with the baby giving you all the first batch of hell in the life long journey of headaches in child bearing.

He rubs over your spin, caressing the shivers raking over your body so you can focus on not dying right now.

"I hate your toes. I hate your shampoo. I hate your fingernails. I hate your toast.  I hate—"

"Ah huh..."

At first he was pretty upset and angered by how much you loath him, but at some point he's tuned it out and just holds and shushes you. While you pout your disdain for the man, you don't oppose his touch.

For now.

"Doin' so good, baby. It's only temporary, baby's just making sure you're a tough momma—"

"Shut the fuck up and get me some water."

Joel stands, his knees reminding him of his less than youthful age, before running downstairs and grabbing a bottle.

You were both a little surprised that all the morning sickness you were warned about hadn't really given either of you trouble in your first trimester. It came with a surprise by the middle of your second, and comes and goes on a daily basis. Today is honestly not so bad: it's your attitude shift that really gives him whiplash.

By the time he gets back up, you're already meandering out of the bathroom like a lost soul with puffy, sleep deprived eyes, and over to the bed, slowly crawling over the mattress, muttering "too tall". You feel his hand supportively on your back, but you snap "fuck off" and get in the bed yourself. He goes to tuck you in with the sheet, but again your hand slaps his away and you close your eyes into darkness.

You can still feel his annoying presence. "What!" You yell, eyes shooting open to see the bottle dangling from his hand. You snatch it without a thank you and gulp.

Joel's just got his hands on his hips, staring at you.

"Kern I hEp ouu, Hondah?" You gurgle through your water sloshing in your mouth.

He just chuckles to himself. "You're cute like this."

You swallow. "I'll fuck you the fuck up."

He laughs even harder, seemingly unserious in your threats. To him, you looked even smaller than before, despite the obvious roundness growing in your tum tum. You seemed like some small puppy finding her growl, or toddler pointing her finger trying to be intimidating but unaware of how badly you're failing.

"So amusing? Why dont you make yourself useful and rub my feet," you demand.

"You need to eat food, baby girl."

"BaBy GiRl" you mock with puppet hand mouth. "NAG nag NAG. I Don't WANT food. I want my FOOT. In your HAND. before I put it up your ASS."

Joel can tolerate the baby cock-blocking him for a few weeks and the endless assult of your words, but he puts his foot down when your basic needs arent being met. "I need you to eat food. You need energy. Baby needs energy."

"Fine! Crackers, you crackhead. Then—" and you thrust your leg in the hair and wiggle your foot in his face so he gets the picture.

"Okay okay!" And he walks out the bedroom.

Joel spends a record 4 minutes downstairs hurriedly putting together a fancy array of cracker options, from Saltines, to Townhouse, to Ritz. He also pops a few cubes of diced ham in his mouth and then holds a few in his hand to snack on later since he too had to abandon breakfast to service you.

By the time you're conplaining "it's been hours!" He's trotting up the stairs, you wiggle your bum so you sit upright in bed, hand over gurgling belly as he brings the tray to you.

Just as youre about to feast on these dry ass cardboard squares, your nose twitches. You see Joel chewing something in his grasp, popping one cube of pale meat quickly into his mouth, and it takes all of 2 seconds for the smell to travel to your brain before you're throwing the tray on the ground, crackers spilling all over the carpet and b lining to the bathroom again to throw up.

As he hears your dramatic gasps and hurls, Joel pulls out his little note pad he's been documenting your pregnancy so far. He writes "no ham" in the lines , right under "hates my penis", before tossing the paper on the bed and stroking your hair lovingly again as you empty your entire organs in the toilet.

By the time you finish, you've got snot and tears running down your face. "but I LOVED HAAAMMMMM" You screech.

It's true. You used to wrap a thick spread of cold butter on a slice of cheap deli ham and eatnit like a cannoli— something he thought was a weird aquired taste BEFORE he even got you pregnant.

Joel grabs a tissue and plants it firmly in your face, and you squeeze your eyes tight and blow right into his palm like a little snot nosed trumpet. He rubs his fingers in your nostrils to get all the boogers out before tossing it and helping you up to your feet again.

All the while you're bawling "l-l-loved—my hh-ham—n cheese" with gross babbling as he tucks you back in the duvet. You were fine with giving up other aversions like tomatoes, pizza crust, and yogurt. Even sex (occasionally). But your beloved ham is one baby step too far.

"Your—"sniffle— "big—"hiccup—"ugly—"choke—"WORM —" cough—"DID THIS TO MEEE," you accuse his crotch and wail into the air.

Then you hiccup very loudly and go quiet entirely.

You look around with curious eyes, fresh tears suddenly unbothering you at the moment.

"Mmmmmmmn crackers," you moan. "Gimme that one," and you point to the mess on the floor.

"What one?"

"That one!"

He bends down and picks up a piece.

But you shake your head. "No that one."

"No." "No the other." "No."

"Which one!" He shouts, unable to contain the lace of frustration.

"The one I'm pointing to, stupid!"

He finally picks up one hes pointed to 3 times already and you clap your hands.

You snatch it out of his grasp, pull a hair off its curved cracked edge before munching on it happily.

He looks at with uncertainty on his face.

You swallow the dry mushed bits and hum contently. "Mmm. Salty."

-

Not even 12 hours later  you two are getting ready for bed, and you mood has completely changed. Still sick, but instead of being unable to stand Joel's entire existence, you praise it.

"Joel, honey? Can you please prop my feet up Under this pillow. I'm sorry. I just can't seem to reach it myself."

"Baby? I'm a little thirsty. Can you get me some water?"

"Im so sorry, Joel. I just can't stomach this food, I know you put so much effort into it. Ugh! I loved this, I really did! I don't know what's wrong with me."

You rub over the discomfort in your slightly swollen tummy and try to be a brave girl and fight the tears, as Joel's been so attentive to your needs, aches, cries and cravings, only to hurl them back up.

You sniffle and look up to him.

He's a bit tense, almost in a fight or flight stance with fear behind his eyes.

"W-whats wrong, Joel?" you ask with a honey song voice.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

- - - -

Permanent taglist :

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96

[hannieehaee]

Sua escrita é realmente fabulosa e estou realmente perdida nisso desde que algo como namorada latina foi mencionado em sua masterlist.

Posso perguntar algo como se a leitora fosse uma garota de ascendência latina (ou totalmente latina, depende de você) e bem, a reação dos integrantes ao se conhecerem pela primeira vez com ela e descobrirem que são realmente sensacionais na cama?

Sorry if my English is bad, it's not my first language (I'm a Brazilian girl

their latina s/o being amazing in bed

content: smut, mentions of first time having sex together, afab reader, mentions of penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 787

a/n: thank uu!! and thank u for requesting<3 i hope u like what i wrote<33

masterlist

seungcheol -

not too surprised. the moment he saw you, he just knew you were gonna rock his world. to be fair, he did hope he'd be able to make you feel just as good as you did him, but he cant imagine any possible way in which you could feel as good as he did last night. he's still replaying it in his head, aware that this will be a recurring memory any time he's alone at night and away from you.

jeonghan -

for once in his life, he has no idea how to react. he has no quick-witted response for you nor does he know how to regain that suave personality he usually has. he's just a mess of heavy breaths and stutters as you take care of him. he finds it impossible to regain his standing when its so easy for you to turn him into a mess.

joshua -

somehow cocky about how good you make him feel. convinced that you're just so into him that you cant help make him lose all his composure in bed. does his best to match your energy and have you seeing stars just like you do him.

jun -

you'll literally have him in tears by the end of the night. would whine at you as to why you didn't warn him you were a monster in bed. did you want him to make a fool of himself? well, it worked! bc he's now putty in your hands, body reacting to every single one of your expert touches.

soonyoung -

thanks you constantly (and pathetically) for choosing him as the guy whose world you'd be altering with that magical pussy (his words). will become immediately obsessed with you and the way you make him feel, unable to have any sense of dignity when it comes to begging you for another night.

wonwoo -

used to being the one who takes care of their partner during sex, and although he can still do that with you, he is unsure of how to handle himself when you're making him feel this good. never would he have imagined you'd be able to read him so easily and have him eating from the palm of your hand.

jihoon -

red in the face and letting out hiccuped gasps at every touch. itd take him five minutes to realize he was in over his head sleeping with someone so good an experienced at pleasure. dies and goes to heaven and is reborn again multiple times throughout the night, now with an image of you stuck to his head.

seokmin -

falls victim to your seductive aura immediately, becoming a shell of himself as he gives in to the pleasure you offer him. will literally get on his knees and beg for pussy after just one time in bed with you.

mingyu -

you're gorgeous, so for some reason that led him to believe you'd be amazing in bed. however, he was unprepared for how drastically you'd alter his brain chemistry through the way you made him feel. everything about you had his eyes crossing and his brows furrowing in pleasure. he was sure he'd never feel as good as this moment.

minghao -

one of the only times in his life that his composure broke so badly. he had been entirely unprepared to find out you were somehow a siren that could get him weak at the knees with just one touch. becomes absolutely entranced by you throughout the process.

seungkwan -

blushy, sweaty, hands clammy. he's just a complete mess. he will literally not survive a night with you, too entranced by how easily you take his pleasure and play with it. how is it possible for you to be so good at this? why did you not give him any warning?

vernon -

mind completely blank the moment you begin working him. whether you used your hands, mouth, lips, cunt, tits, etc. he'd was putty in your hands. can't even manage to let out any sounds of pleasure bc of how caught off guard he is by how insanely good you make him feel. not one to beg much, but will absolutely beg you for another taste of that pussy once you're done.

chan -

he was already weak and needy for you before even getting to sleep with you, but ends up becoming even more of a pathetic mess the moment you touch him. no matter what it is you do in bed, he's shocked at how easily you're able to get him begging for more. needs you to never stop touching him, becoming obsessed with you after just one night together.

[happilyhertale]

Morning delight – Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Summary: You have been married to Aemond for some time now. But even though it sometimes seemed as if routine was settling into your relationship, Aemond still manages to surprise you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Oral (f receiving); Sex (p in v)

Author’s note: English is my second language, so please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.1 k

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

You awaken with a gentle stirring, wavering on the threshold of consciousness. A soft exhale escapes your lips, and your head tilts to the side as your eyes flutter open with a subtle curiosity. The sun begins to cast its soft, golden hues across the sky. In the midst of this morning revelation, a resonant "Hmm" and a rhythmic smacking pierce the air, triggering a moment of heightened awareness. Your breath catches as you feel the enveloping warmth between your thighs, and your senses sharpen further.

A whimper escapes your lips as your gaze turns downwards. You see the figure between your thighs and recognise your husband's silver hair faintly visible in the darkness – his face pressed deep into your cunt. He is busy bringing you back to the world of consciousness with his tongue. His eye is watching you closely, his sapphire visible in the darkness. He continues to work you with a relentless and expert tongue, his fingers gripping your hips, holding you in place.

But before you can react any further, your breath catches and you feel a warmth flood through you. Your warm walls contract around a void as Aemond continues to suck on your sensitive bundle. Moans echo through your chambers as Aemond grips your thighs tighter. Your eyes close briefly as you lose yourself in the sensation. But then Aemond's hands slide along your thighs and grab hold again and you hear a soft chuckle. With a gentle movement, he pulls your thighs over his shoulders. This catches your attention again and you slowly open your eyes, your gaze turning to Aemond.

"Aemond... what..." you whisper. But then he guides two fingers inside you.

Aemond knows your body inside out, knows every spot that makes you squirm. You gasp as his fingers immediately find the rough spot inside you. He purposefully rubs over and over again. The attention of his tongue is still on your bundle of nerves – he sucks and licks.

"Aemond... no..." you gasp, but Aemond doesn't listen to you. His fingers slide into you faster and he sucks harder, his eyes fixed on you. Your fingers slide into the sheet beneath you, gripping tightly, trying to find some kind of hold as your moans echo through your chambers. You move slightly, whimpering and trying to escape his grip, but you don't stand a chance, his hand, which isn't relentlessly trying to find its way inside you, has you in a firm grip. His tongue circles your clit, teasing it incessantly while he guides another finger inside you. It's almost too much and you moan out loud as you feel the warmth spreading through you again.

But his fingers continue to pump in and out of you as his tongue strokes and caresses your sensitive flesh. Your moans and gasps fill the air and he grunts in approval. The mixture of his fingers inside you and his skilful ministrations on your pearl drives you to another wave of pleasure. He grunts again as he feels your hips begin to move towards him, your whimpering a sign to him that you are close.

And you almost cry out as your wet walls tighten not around a void but around his fingers this time. Again you hear him chuckle slightly as he licks up all your juices. "My dutiful wife..." he murmurs against you.

But Aemond isn't done with you yet.

Again, You whimper as he slowly pulls his fingers out, your breathing heavy. You want to remove your legs from his shoulders, but Aemond just shakes your head slightly and keeps his grip tight around your thighs. You look at him with some irritation, but your unspoken question is answered as Aemond supports himself and moves up to you – his gaze locked onto your wet and pulsing sex. But his hard manhood catches your eye –  it's already dripping with precum. He props himself up on the bed with one hand, your legs still pressed against his torso as he guides his hot length closer to your warm core. You're completely at his mercy, barely able to move.

You whimper again, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Aemond... I can't..." you whisper but you whimper again as the twitching tip slides through your folds, his precum mingling with your dripping wetness. You can't stop it, your hips begin to move slightly to meet his movements.

"Mmm... your body is telling me something else though, Love..." he murmurs. He grunts slightly as he pushes his hips forwards a little and your cunt closes almost greedily around the tip of his hard manhood. He thrusts further, into the warmth of your core. He leans further forwards to penetrate you deeper. Your walls give way and are stretched further. His grunts and your moans echo through your chambers. The pressure in your abdomen makes itself felt again as Aemond thrusts faster and harder.

Accompanied by your whimpers, his moans echo through your chambers as you feel him fill you completely. His balls slap against your ass as he thrusts wildly into you, chasing his own climax.

"Aemond..." you whimper as tears run down your cheek. But all you get in response is a grunt. When you suddenly feel his thumb start to rub your clit as he thrusts deeper into you, you cry out slightly.

"Aemond, I can't," you whimper, but you can already feel your walls clenching around him.

"I want you to come on my cock, Love... I want to feel your cunt clench around my cock," he grunts, breathing heavily.

He works your sensitive pearl faster and you moan as the pressure in your abdomen almost becomes too much. More tears run down your cheek as you cry out. Your walls clench hard around his hot length, almost not letting him penetrate you any further. And then Aemond grunts loudly. A loud moan follows from him as he dresses your walls in white.

His thrusts become gentler and more careless. He breathes heavily, his eye closed. Until his thrusts slow down completely and he lets your thighs slide off his shoulders. Exhausted, he lets his upper body sink down until he comes to lie on top of you, breathing heavily. You feel his warm breath on your neck and gentle kisses follow. Slowly, he rolls off you and comes to rest next to you. His eye is still closed as you turn your head in his direction. Your breathing is at least as heavy as his. You turn round, seeking his closeness – and he gives it to you. Without many words, he wraps you in his arms. After a while, you hear him whisper, "Good morning..."

You can't help but giggle slightly as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

@bl4ckph0enix @autumnhymns @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @believeinthefireflies95 @snh96 @echos-muses @aemondsbabe

[tetragonia]

Midnight Repair Shop

John "Bucky" Egan x Female!Mechanic!Reader

Blurb: In the middle of the night, accompanied with the choruses of men from the Officer’s pub afar, Bucky saw the hangar light was on. He peeked and found Jerry to his Tom—(Y/N), one of the mechanics whose side job apparently was to annoy him. It was that one time when Bucky and (Y/N) repaired not only the plane, but somehow their whole dynamics all these months.

warning: inaccuracies especially with the mechanical terms because I'm not used to them and just looked em up from the internet. also, maybe weird phrasing or grammatical incorrect since English is not my first language. pls let me know what I could do better <3

note: pure fluff and giggles, some arguments but all is good with our Bucky. this is my first mota fic out there and why shouldn't i choose our antic Bucky as the main character? ;) also, this is based on the portrayal of the actors from Masters of the Air. all respect to the veterans and family

words: 3160 (sorry!)

It was a sunny day as the sun was casting a golden hue over Thorpe Abbotts, the distant hum of aircraft engines signaled the approach of returning fighter planes. Among them was Major John Egan–”it’s just me, Bucky’s fine”–his B-17 streaking through the sky and leading the squadron. It was not an easy mission, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. The route was clear and the enemy’s cover was minimum.

With steady hands, Bucky guided his aircraft toward the runway as his eyes scanned the horizon for any signs of trouble. The roar of the engine filled the cockpit as he made minute adjustments to his altitude and speed, preparing for the critical moment of touchdown.

As the wheels of his B-17 made contact with the tarmac, Bucky maneuvered and smoothly brought it to a stop with. The plane rolled to a halt, its engine purring contentedly as Bucky taxied toward the waiting ground crew.

You were one of the ground crews, a skilled mechanic around the base. People knew your work ethic and they damn respected you out of it. And that clearly gave some benefits around here.

“Back from another joyride, Major?”

You emphasized the rank as Bucky made his way out from the cockpit. His flight suit was slightly disheveled, his hair was a bit scruffy but his smile was as bright as the summer sun. Brady jumped out, his eyes scanned you and Bucky.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“Capt,” you tilted your chin and raised your eyebrows slightly to acknowledge his presence.

“Joyride?” Bucky pulled your attention back at him. “More like a death-defying adventure, (Y/N). You know, I like to keep things exciting.”

“That ain’t exciting, bud,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Let’s see what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

You wasted no time inspecting the plane, your expert eye quickly picking up on any signs of damage. Still locking your eyes to the plane, you said, “I swear, Bucky, if next time you come back with another dent in your plane, I’m going to start charging you for the repairs. And trust me, it ain’t cheap.”

“Did you just threaten me?” he let out a dramatic gasp, putting his hand in front of his chest. “You know, I think I’m starting to rub off on you. After all, it truly takes a special kind of person to keep up with a pilot like me.”

Your hands ran through the plane’s body, bullet holes were scattered and some flak damages were tattooed to the metal skin. You suspected there were some engine reduction from the enemy’s fire, as well as control surface damage.

“You’re not the only one keeping me busy. I have plenty of other pilots crashing their planes too, creating these cute little bends and missing some rivets,” you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes again.

“You know, (Y/N), I’m starting to think you have a thing for me crashing. How else do you explain always being there to fix up my messes?” still in his dramatic tone, he raised an eyebrow at you.

You turned your head to him, trying to mimic his dramatic gasp earlied, “Oh my God! Weird thing is, I can’t imagine having this thing called a job! Have you ever heard of that?”

You lost count on rolling your eyes at him. He laughed faintly and started to walk away from you. 

“Hey, (Y/N), if I had a penny for every time you gave me that look of disapproval, I’d have enough to buy myself a damn new plane. One that doesn’t need fixing every time I fly it.”

“Spare your voice for the interrogation, Bucky, you’re just talking shit right now,” you said dismissively. You could hear his ragged breath from your place, that man clearly needed to at least have a good hot chow.

“Ouch, that stings.”

Despite your dismissive tone, you couldn’t help but to let a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As the darkness draped itself over Thorpe Abbotts like a heavy cloak, the Officer's pub emerged as a sanctuary of warmth and light. The air was buzzing with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, faint laughters could be heard from afar. Bucky Egan was bathed in a warm, golden light from the row of lanterns that lined the walls. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling above him, their darkened surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the fire roaring in the hearth.

Around the room, Bucky found himself gathered at wooden tables with other airmen as the air was thick with the scent of pipe tobacco and the familiar aroma of alcohol, mingling with the lively strains of a piano being played in the corner.

“I don’t know, man. You seem pretty tipsy already,” Buck Cleven shook his head with a chuckle when Bucky offered to buy them another round of drinks. “I don’t want you stumbling into any trouble, you know.”

Hearing what his buddy said, Bucky laughed. “Me? Trouble? Com on, Buck, you know me better than that. I can handle myself just fine! Look at this.”

Bucky tried to jump from his seat to buy another round, but then he stumbled and let the men laugh as he landed in a weird position.

“Alright, alright,” he said, laughing with them too. He was just too damn charming to be ashamed, it’s alarming.

“No more drinks,” Bucky said, God knows to Buck or to himself.

“No more drinks,” Buck hummed the same chorus. Bucky laughed, shook his head faintly.

“I’m gonna head back,” he eventually reached a decision. “And I don’t want any of you to take me, feel like flying solo tonight. ‘Kay?”

“Sure, Bucky, whatever you want,” Brady laughed as he sipped his glass. With that, Bucky stumbled out into the cool night air, leaving the sounds of laughter and conversation that faded behind him. He took a deep breath, the crisp night air helped him clearing his muddled mind as he made his unsteady steps back to his barrack.

Humming sporadic notes from Bing Crosby, he noticed a faint flickering light shined through the windows from a hangar nearby with its door ajar. Curious, and perhaps a little tipsy, he decided to investigate.

Who the hell works at this hour, he thought to himself. With a curious tilt of his head, he veered off course, his feet guiding him toward the source of lights. Peeking a bit, he was greeted by the sight of your back, working on his plane.

Bucky sauntered in, his flight jacket slung over one shoulder, a cocky grin plastered across his face. He squinted against the sudden brightness, his eyes struggling to adjust to the harsh contrast after the darkness outside. Blinking rapidly, he stumbled forward, laughing at his own stupidity. And he might or might not realize that he always felt way more stupid around you, throwing all those flirts and banters like a loony.

“Hey there, (Y/N)! Patching up the old birds, are we?” Bucky slurred slightly. 

You turned your head at him, still on your workbench raising an eyebrow at Bucky’s disheveled appearance.

“Looks like someone had a bit too much to drink tonight,” you made a remark as you continued working gunning the rivets. “Too much liquid courage at the pub?”

Bucky chuckled, he leaned against a nearby box for support. “Liquid courage? More like liquid genius! But hey, I couldn’t resist the chance to see your pretty face before I hit the hay.”

Bucky grinned stupidly at your back as he heard you replied monotonously, “Oh lucky me. The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.”

He laughed at your dry response, stepped in. “Nah, just needed a little pick-me-up after a long day of saving the world. You know how it is.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress a smile at Bucky’s antics. You’ve gotten used to all that now, working side by side for a couple months.

“Yeah, yeah, the brave pilot routine. I’ve heard it all before. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”

As Bucky watched you expertly finish tinkering the body, you couldn’t help but admire your skill and determination. God knows since when you had worked on his plane today!

He leaned against the nearby workbench, his grin widening. “It’s your touch that keeps her purring, (Y/N). Without you, she’d be just another hunk of metal gathering dust.”

You rolled your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, flyboy. You’re not fooling anyone with your smooth talk.”

“Hey, I’m just stating facts!”

“Yeah, and Hitler’s a good man. Now do me a favor, hand me the rivet gun over there,” you asked, tilting your head to the tool box.

Your hand brushed with his as he handed you the rivet gun. The wind suddenly swirled around the hangar and you shuddered at the chills down your spine. You took the gun swiftly and placed it over the exposed end of the rivet shaft. You securely fastened patches of those new aluminum sheets metal onto the wing, covering the bullet holes.

You’d been fixing the engine with Ken all day, finished just before the curfew. To clear your mind, you decided to fix the panels tonight as you asked Ken to get a hot chow. After some good arguments thrown from you, Ken gave up and walked away.

And here you were, in the hangar with the famous Bucky Egan. You’d been working with him for months, yet you didn’t know if he made all those compliments and flattery to other women as well. There weren’t any female mechanics around here and you knew he had his own way with women.

Flattery didn’t get him anywhere, but it got you somewhere. 

You decided to break the silence, “You know, Bucky, I’m starting to think you pilots have a secret competition to see who can wreck their plane the most. Am I right?”

To hide whatever feelings that tried to surface, you put your familiar mask–strict, to the point, and sometimes a bit offensive. That way, you could protect yourself.

“Am clearly the best,” from the corner of your eyes, you could see him nodded and smiling. Suddenly it was so infuriating, how smiley he always was, how cheerful and friendly he was to you. How easy he was to throw compliments, and how easy he was to look at her with such adoration.

“Yeah, I've always thought you were a great pilot. Shame you're not quite as good at keeping your plane in one piece.”

You were unable to keep your feelings now. It was bottled up all this time. You were tired, hungry, and thirsty. You were vulnerable.

“Hey, hey, now,” Bucky might be a bit drunk but he wasn’t stupid. Something in the air shifted, your tone was harsh. Too harsh for his liking and your own good. Your tone was aggressive and he felt like you tried to hurt him with your remarks. Usually, they were all harmless, he even found you funny. But what was with the sudden change of tone?

“Come on, now. Why do you always pick on me?” Bucky tried to remain calm.

Forgot being calm! You were raging all of sudden. “Why would I pick on you, stop being so full of yourself.”

That’s it. That was the last straw.

“Hey, that stings!” Bucky was flustered, he walked closer to you, gaze piercing your back.

You sighed. You’re tired. You’ve been working all day and haven’t eaten since 8 am. It’s somewhere over 12 am now.

Fuck, you muttered to yourself. You need to shape the replacement panels to match the contours of the wing’s surface before riveting them. You got up and walked to the sheet metal bender, but Bucky stopped you.

With the faint hangar light on top of you both, now Bucky could fully take a look at your current state. You knew you looked terrible.

“Okay, you need to stop,” Bucky sighed. “Go to your barrack. You need to sleep.”

“I need to work.”

“She can wait. I’ll ask Lemmons to patch her up early in the morning,” Bucky said, his voice was authoritative. “Now, let’s get you some sleep.”

“No,” you tried to walk to the metal bender but his grip was strong.

“Come on, or I’m gonna abduct you.”

You almost rolled your eyes at that, but he quickly swept you off the ground. “Hey! Put me down!”

Despite the serious and cold air surrounding you both earlier, you could see how Bucky giggled. You always acted all tough, but you were just a girl for him. Your strength couldn’t even match him.

She’s cute, you didn’t know Bucky thought that right now.

He thought this was all just a joke, your mind stated.

“Nah, I’ll put you on your bed myself.”

You huffed in frustration, your attempts to free yourself only serving to make Bucky hold on tighter. "This isn't funny, Bucky! Put me down right now!"

But before Bucky could respond, his foot caught on a stray toolbox lying on the floor, sending you both tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs. With a yelp of surprise, you landed on top of him, your bodies pressed together in an awkward and unexpected embrace.

For a moment, you lay there in stunned silence, the only sound filling the air was the pounding of your hearts. 

With a stupid grin on his face, Bucky smiled surprisingly sweetly, “Hello.”

As the realization of your predicament sunk in, your cheeks flushed crimson, maybe with anger or maybe with something else.

"Are you kidding me, Bucky?" you exclaimed, pushing yourself off him with a scowl. "I told you to put me down!"

Bucky winced while grinning sheepishly, rubbing his head where it had collided with the floor. He was fully sober now, thanks for the thud. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I didn't mean for us to fall."

You crossed your arms over your chest, your expression still stormy. "Well, it's not funny. You could have seriously injured yourself. You’re one of the best pilots we’ve got, what would happen if you got hurt?!"

Bucky sighed, his earlier amusement fading as he met your angry gaze. He got up, walked a step closer to you. 

"You need to be worried about yourself. What is it, (Y/N)? You’re not usually this… tensed. Is something bothering you?”

Bucky put his hand on your shoulder. You stiffened at his touch, jerking away as if scalded. 

"I'm fine," you snapped, your tone once again sharp and defensive.

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion, hurt flickering in his eyes. "Hey, I was just asking. You don't have to bite my head off."

You didn’t want to meet his gaze. Your eyes wandered to the floor that suddenly became so interesting.

But you knew that Bucky wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily. "I don't buy it, (Y/N). You've been acting strange lately, and I want to know why."

You scoffed, rubbed your eyes slowly, “It’s nothing.”

“Hey, tell me,” Bucky now grabbed your arms and once again you stiffened at his gesture. You looked up as your gaze fell to his, eyes blinked rapidly. Your cheeks flushed as you once again broke eye contact and looked at the new interesting thing: the metal bender.

And a realization hit Bucky like a lightning. The way you laughed or rolled your eyes at his jokes despite being known as a serious fella, the way you looked at him before he took off, the way you always kept some distance…

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice softened. “I’ve never been this straightforward, but we don’t have much time… Do you like me?”

He could feel your muscles tensed under his touch. You still refused to look at him.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Where did the tough, no-nonsense (Y/N) go?

“Hey, (Y/N), look at me,” Bucky asked you gently. He knew for sure that you held a feeling for him and he was too damn stupid to realize. He tried so hard to suppress his smile.

You looked up, his expression was soft and his eyes fixed on you with a gleam that made the butterflies crazy inside your stomach.  You thought about every possible reaction: rejections, lots of yelling, a broken respect and trust, no more jokes and friendships… But you didn’t expect when he leaned closer and brought you in, when his lips touched yours with a gentleness you could only imagine.

Bucky’s lips tasted like a good amount of mint and alcohol mixture. You were intoxicated. He put his hand on your hip, the other caressed your cheek. His touch was a gentle yet firm anchor, drawing you closer to him in a silent declaration of desire. Your fingers traced the curves of your hips with a tender reverence, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you melted into his embrace.

He’d never imagine touching you, grabbing your crinkled jumpsuit as he kissed you deeper, his hands wandered. You felt a rush of warmth spreading through your body, igniting a fire within you that you couldn’t ignore. His hands, strong and sure from years of training, held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. His touch was both possessive and protective all at once.

When you both pulled away, trying to catch a breath, you saw Bucky smiling. His hands were still on your hips, now the right one stroke your cheek and your lips.

"You know, (Y/N), I've always admired you. The way you always know your way around an engine, your work ethic, your remarks, your replies to my jokes… I've always thought you were pretty amazing,” he whispered. “The way you handle those machines... it's something else. That’s why I always send my plane to you."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at the unexpected compliments, and you cleared your throat awkwardly. You were anything but flushed and fluttered.

"Well, I guess someone has to keep you flyboys in the air. Can't have you crashing and burning without us, right? You better treat her right up there or I'll make sure your next landing isn't so smooth."

Bucky grinned, feeling a surge of confidence after a heavy cloud towering you both  earlier.

"Hey, what do you say we had a drink tomorrow? I’d like to discuss tonight's matter, after you had a good rest of course.”

Your heart raced at the thought of spending more time with Bucky outside of work. You were exhausted, but after what happened tonight, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep.

"I suppose one drink couldn't hurt. But don't think this means I'm going easy on you, Bucky. I've got a reputation to uphold, after all."

[arcane-vagabond]

Baboons and Flesh Wounds

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under arcane_vagabond. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 8 — By The Fireplace

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 1900

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

The weather outside was icy, crisp, and biting. The world was draped in a pristine blanket of snow as gentle flakes cascaded from above. Such a picturesque scene of a winter wonderland was not uncommon for a December evening.

Inside your and Bucky’s house, a log crackled in the fireplace, casting a warm glow that bathed your living room in a golden hue. The scent of pine from the decorated Christmas tree mingled with the sweet aroma of vanilla-scented candles, creating a cozy and intimate atmosphere.

You were nestled beside Bucky on the sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky’s sweater radiated a warmth that matched the crackling fire, and you couldn’t help but snuggle further into him. You purred in content and sighed happily as he draped an arm across you, kissing the top of your head.

“Hmm, you’re my favorite kind of warmth, Bucky,” you mumbled as you nuzzled your face in the cotton fabric.

With his thumb and finger pinching your chin, he brought your face to his. His hooded eyes gazing into your dilated ones.

His hand found your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive. “You’re my favorite way to stay warm, doll,” he whispered, voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

There was no denying the meanings behind his words were a need for a deeper and more passionate connection with you. A need of your own that lit your insides on fire.

Your hands wandered beneath his thick sweater, fingers tracing patterns on his warm and toned skin. Bucky closed his eyes briefly with a throaty moan, savoring the sensation.

“Are you gonna show me how I keep you warm, baby,” you purred seductively. Bucky held a firm grip on your waist as he met your gaze again, his pupils blown out and desire swimming in the depths of his blues.

Bucky cursed silently as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He groaned against your mouth, his tongue delicately swiping your lower lip, pleading to explore more. You complied, him and you sliding against each other, exploring the depths of one another.

You pressed your body against his, your clothed breasts pressing against his chest. Bucky groaned as he hoisted you on his lap, kneading your ass in his palms. You moaned while grinding your hips against him, feeling his hardening cock against your clit, even with all your clothing. You kissed him with vigor while your hands roamed over his shoulders and chest.

As the kiss deepened further, Bucky’s hands ventured beneath your sweater. His flesh and machine hand grasped your waist firmly. He pulled you closer, hips flexing upwards to meet your movements, and you shivered above him in response.

“Fuck, I want you, doll. Need your naked body below me as I fuck you till you sing those sweet sounds I love,” he whispered against your lips, voice rough with need.

You moaned softly at his expression of desire, your own burning hot within. You found it hard to speak your needs as his hands slid up your sides beneath the thick sweater, caressing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. But Bucky was an expert in caring for your body and mind, so you let him take control.

He hummed as his lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making you shiver even more. Your hands moved to his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands and holding him close as he kissed and nibbled your neck. Your heart raced, breath coming faster, and Bucky knew you were as desperate for him as he was for you.

“This needs to come off, doll,” he whispered against your ear, voice low and husky as he tugged on your sweater.

Quickly obeying, you slipped the sweater over your head, revealing your lacy bra. Bucky let out a groan, his hands moving to the clasp of it, freeing your breasts from their confinement.

“Fuck, they’re perfect. You’re perfect,” Bucky groaned as he lowered his head, lips finding your nipple, tongue flicking across it before sucking gently. His hand toyed and played with the other, pulling and pinching lightly. You gasped and pulled his hair, urging him on, and he obliged by sucking harder, his tongue flicking the peaked bud while his thumb and finger teased the other.

“Fuck, fuck, I’ll come if you keep doing that,” you hissed, clit throbbing in need at the stimulation your breasts were receiving. “Please, Bucky.”

“Fuck, you drive me wild, doll,” he groaned as he picked you up with your legs wrapped around his waist for leverage, laying you down on the faux fur in front of the fireplace. The soft and thick fabric a juxtaposition to Bucky’s solid and powerful body hovering over you.

Your chest heaved as Bucky quickly discarded his sweater, his chiseled and perfect physique highlighted by the glow of the crackling fire.

His hand slid down your stomach before tugging at your sweatpants. You lifted your hips to aid in the removal of them. His fingers trailed over your bare thighs before slipping between them. You gasped as his fingers found your damp panties, his thumb rubbing against your covered clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Bucky moaned into your breast as he continued to suck and tease your nipple, his cock straining his sweats. He released your nipple before taking both of your breasts in his hands, squeezing them, his thumbs brushing across your peaks, making you moan loudly with need.

“I need you, Bucky. I need your tongue or cock inside me while you touch me all over,” you whimpered. Your hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down his legs along with his underwear, letting his hard cock spring free.

Bucky moaned your name as your soft hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly, teasing his slit with your thumb and smearing his leaking precum around his tip. Bucky groaned as you put more pressure, loving how you touched and made him feel.

“Need this cock inside me, fucking me and making me feel good,” you mewled against his parted lips, eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

“Beg for me, doll,” he said hoarsely.

“Please… I want you,” you whispered.

He smiled wickedly, lowering his head, kissing your stomach, hips, and thighs until he nestled comfortably between your lush and spread legs, his mouth mere inches from your covered pussy, making you moan and trash against the fur at his teasing.

“I’ll give you my cock, doll. But I need to taste you first,” he groaned, the vibration of his rumbled voice hitting your clit, making you arch your back and moan with need.

He discarded your panties in a swift movement, pushing your thighs further apart before feasting on your pussy.

He ran his tongue up your slit, flicking your clit, moaning against you, and then pushed his tongue inside your hole, thrusting in and out, your juices coating his tongue. The taste of you drove him wild as he ate you out with determination.

“You taste incredible, doll,” he groaned against your clit, the vibration sending delicious tingles down your spine.

Your legs wrapped around his head, fingers combing in his hair and tightening, pulling him closer to your core. He sucked your swollen clit, his tongue flicking over it, having your back arch and nails digging into his scalp.

“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna come. Don’t stop sucking my clit, baby,” you begged with desperate need as you practically rode his face, moving your hips as his lips stayed glued to your pussy.

He slid two fingers inside you, fucking you with them. The combination of his lips around your clit and thick fingers in your wet pussy had you gasping and drawing quick breaths.

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice harsh. You cried out as your orgasm ripped through you, your body shaking and your toes curling. Your walls throbbed against his fingers as he continued to fuck you through the bliss while his lips never lost connection with your engorged clit.

Bucky took a moment to admire your post-orgasm glow. With the way the light of the fire danced across you and the light sheen of sweat on your skin, he was enthralled by your beauty. His cock throbbed with need, balls tightening, precum leaking from the tip.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly against your parted lips.

“Fuck me, please,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He positioned himself at your quivering entrance, his tip teasing your drenched folds before thrusting forward, burying himself balls deep inside your tight walls with a heavy grunt. His cock filled you to perfection, making you cry out, and your legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper inside.

“God, you’re so tight,” Bucky groaned with a shiver down his spine.

He started to move, his hips thrusting against yours, cock sliding in and out of your wet cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with each heavy thrust. Your hips moved in rhythm with his, your sensitive pussy clenching around his cock, moans and whimpers mingling with his grunts and groans.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you cried as you held onto him. Legs locked around his waist, hands tangling in his hair, nails scraping the back of his neck.

Laid down on the faux fur, he fucked you to perfection in front of the fireplace—warm and intimate. The logs crackled along as you built your earth-shattering bliss together.

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours, kissing you roughly and messy, tongues gliding against each other as he fucked you to oblivion.

You felt your orgasm approaching, your body tensing in preparation for a toe-curling release. “I’m gonna come,” you cried as your cunt clenched around his cock, body shuddering and legs trembling. Your eyes rolled, and toes curled at the heavenly bliss.

Bucky cursed as your orgasm hit, his face burying in your neck, biting softly on your flesh. With the way your cunt milked his cock and you begging for his cum, he couldn’t hold off any longer. His cock swelled, balls tightened, and with a harsh groan, his orgasm ripped through him, body shaking as he came, cum shooting deep inside your pussy, spurting and filling you up as you milked every last drop out of him.

“God, baby. You take my cock so well,” he murmured breathlessly, kissing you passionately, his cock still buried inside as you stayed kissing for a few moments until he finally slid out of your quivering and oversensitive pussy. Bucky’s cock twitched with each heartbeat, longing for you wrapped around him again.

He rolled onto his side, pulling you close to him, arm wrapping around your frame. You snuggled into him, your body still trembling from your orgasm, your mind reeling with the intensity of your lovemaking.

“Hmm, you sure know how to keep a girl warm and content, Bucky,” you purred, kissing his chest. Bucky hummed as he kissed your hair, expressing the same passion.

You closed your eyes, enjoying your shared post-orgasm bliss and the atmosphere of the fireplace. You felt safe and cherished in your bubble of intimacy, with Bucky’s strong arms holding you tight and his heart beating only for you.

Bucky pinched your chin, bringing your lips to his to share a heartfelt kiss. “I love you,” you uttered, smiling. “And I love you.” He kissed you gently once more before singing your body alive again with electric touches and passionate kisses, taking and loving you once more by the fireplace.

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[darkficlord69]

Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, unprotected sex, 18+ language, death, character death, angst, sadness, not proofread

Cregan Stark was indubitably a wolf: ever since he sprang up from his mother's northern womb he had a savage attitude kept in place by his house's sterling reputation for personal integrity. But when his gaze locked onto yours, all semblance of restraint evaporated from his big muscled body like a snowflake slowly melting under the hot sun. When he met you, he felt like a starved animal ready to pounce, to hunt, to eat something so positively delicious that it would satisfy him to no end...

Despite having lived your whole pampered life on Dragonstone, under your mother's constant and loving supervision, you felt at home in the snow covered Winterfell. And when you descended from your mauve scaly beast with a wingspan bigger than the tallest watchtower in Deepwood Motte, you shivered although you were drowning in thick layers of fur and wool. That is, because you met Cregan. He looked at you with an intesity that was at odds with the iciness of the climate and you could do little but avert your gaze to avoid losing yourself in those stormy grey eyes that twinkled with desire.

"My lord, it is an honor," you curtsied clumsily due to your heavy attire but Cregan quickly put a hand on yours to help stabilize you and prevent you from falling face-first in the snow.

"The honor is all mine, my princess," he replied in a husky voice that almost brought tears to ths corners of your eyes. Whatever passed between you was a dangerous thing, hotter than fire, yet fickler than a shard of thin ice.

"I hope your journey was pleasant," he said.

"Oh, definitely, my lord of Winterfell. Now, I believe the politics and scheming can wait for the morrow, but riding Kocsaryon has made my belly rumble in hunger. A feast is in order, if it please you."

Cregan gave a curt nod and led you to the Main Hall, where a feast had already been laid out. The long wooden tables groaned under the weight of hearty soups for each heart, each dish more decadent than the last, the aromas mingling in the air like a seductive promise of indulgence.

At the center of the hall stood a massive boar, its skin crisp and golden, crackling with fat that had been painstakingly rendered over hours of slow roasting. It was stuffed with onions, apples, and a medley of herbs that filled the air with their heady scent. The juices ran clear as it was carved, pooling on the thick wooden platters beneath, where hunks of dark meat were passed around to eager hands.

Beside it, platters of venison, seasoned with juniper and garlic, had been seared to perfection, the meat tender and pink within, the crust dark and fragrant. Roasted root vegetables, earthy and sweet, nestled alongside them, their edges caramelized to a rich mahogany.

A serving girl approached Cregan to clear away a platter of untouched meat and your eyes darkened when her hair brushed against Stark's shoulder.

You stuffed yourself until your belly groaned and then you chanced a glance again at Cregan who was watching as you cleaned your fingers by putting them in your mouth and slowly sucking in a suggestive gesture that was meant as a provocative invitation. Lord Stark's eyes hardened with unmistakable lust and he rose abruptly, mumbling excuses to confused guests. He promptly grabbed your hand and led you outside.

"If you will follow me, my lady. I have something to show you."

By the time you left the warmth of the Great Keep, you were wholly intrigued by this escapade. Cregan knelt before the weirwood tree that seemed to weep blood as you joined him in prayer.

"So, are going to..." No sooner had you started to ask your question, than Cregan's lips were on yours, kissing you with a ferocious intensity that went beyond mere words. His expert tongue left a trail of saliva down the column of your neck, your jaw... He licked and sucked like a newborn wolf pup, but his groans were the howl of a fully grown member of the pack.

"Oh, gods!" you yelled, uncaring of who may hear.

He quickly disrobed you, your smallclothes thrown far, far away and then you were naked beneath his lord's piercing gaze, trembling with anticipation as heat pooled between your legs.

"Cregan, pleaaase!"

The night beneath the godswood was a symphony of passion and primal need. The ancient trees stood silent witness as you and Cregan came together, your bodies intertwining with an intensity that left you both breathless. The air was cold, biting even, but the heat in your lower stomach was enough to ward off the chill for a time.

He kissed you with a fervor that spoke of years of restraint finally unleashed. His hands, rough and calloused from a lifetime of wielding swords and axes, were surprisingly gentle as they roamed your body, tracing every curve and dip as if committing you to memory. You shivered beneath his touch, but it wasn't from the cold. It was from the raw power and the undeniable hunger in his eyes, the kind that made you feel like the only thing in the world that mattered.

As the night deepened, the cold crept closer, seeping into your bones. But you were too lost in him, too lost in the way he made you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before. You clung to him, seeking warmth and comfort in the strength of his embrace, in the heat of his body pressed against yours.

But the North was unforgiving. The warmth of passion was no match for the biting cold of the northern winter. Even as Cregan held you close, his hairy body shielding you from the worst of the elements, the chill began to seep into your skin, turning your breath to fog and your lips to ice.

Cregan sensed it before you did, the way your shivers became more violent, more uncontrollable. He pulled back, his brow furrowing in concern as he looked into your eyes, now glassy with the onset of hypothermia. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the sight.

"You're freezing," he murmured, his voice rough with worry. He pulled you closer, trying to rub warmth back into your limbs, but it was too late. The cold had already taken hold, and no amount of heat from him could chase it away.

You tried to smile, tried to reassure him that you were fine, but the words caught in your throat, your lips too numb to form them. You could feel the warmth of life slipping away, could feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision. But you didn't want to let go, not when you were here, in his arms, where you had always dreamed of being.

"Cregan..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "I'm sorry..."

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what was happening. "No," he growled, shaking his head. "No, don't you dare leave me."

But you were already slipping away, your body going limp in his arms. The last thing you felt was the warmth of his tears on your face, the last thing you heard was the desperate, broken sound of his voice calling your name, begging you to stay.

When the dawn broke, the godswood was silent, the snow around you undisturbed save for the imprint of Cregan's body beside yours. He held you tightly, even as the life had long since fled from your body, refusing to let go, refusing to accept that you were gone.

The godswood bore witness to many things over the centuries, but the sight of the Lord of Winterfell, the fearsome wolf of the North, cradling the lifeless body of the one he loved, was something that would linger in its memory forever.

For Cregan Stark, the godswood would never again be a place of peace, but a place of sorrow, a reminder of the warmth he had once held in his arms and the cold that had stolen it away.

Guyss, this is my first fic! 🫣 Please let me know what you think so that I can improve my work 🐺🌙💫 Thanks for reading! 💝