#wrap it up little man you scoundrel

[marc--chilton]

wilson and taub interacting is so funny bc their cheaterism is a notable characteristic of each of them respectively, but taub manages to make a HUGE spectacle out of himself because of it

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi. Could you please write some Gambit fluff headcannons? The Gambit Nation is struggling right now and we could all really use some fluffiness from the man himself.

Btw I'm absolutely OBSESSED with your writing. Like, seriously amazing.

Gambit/GN!Reader

I Know you sent this in forever ago after that one godforsaken episode of 97' and I'm so sorry I'm just now getting to it!!! It's been sitting in my drafts for forever and I've just been struggling to come up with fluff hcs! TBH, It started as general fluff and not a whole ass storyline and eventually i just got too far deep to stop! This isn't even as fluffy as I was quite expecting, but once i started writing it just came out and atp I couldn't stop. It's been a rough night, but this really just turned Into being Remy's comfort person HCs.

TWs: rocky family life mentioned. Sneaking out, underage drinking, so on. Smooth timeskip to adulthood. very much fluffy with a lil bit of somber tones. Not enough to be angst tho.

Think about being Teens with Remy Lebeau. The late nights, sneaking out, ranting to each other in the streets and alleyways of New Orleans.

Getting into fights with your parents/guardians or siblings and wanting nothing more than to just shrivel up and disappear. Curling up underneath your blankets with a pillow wrapped around your ears trying to just block out all of the bad thoughts when you keep hearing a persistent Tap, Tap, Tap. And then a much more obvious pop! Against your window.

You know who it is before you even unwrap yourself from the comfort of your bed, opening your window with a lot less energy than you usually have. You're tired and sad, but the face of that Cajun boy your parents don't like always makes you smile.

The red-eyed teen's smirk falls when he sees the rough state you're in, right before ducking back behind the trashcan when a light turns on in your parent's bedroom. Eventually, it turns back off again, and by the time he's back on the sidewalk you're ready to go. He helps you out of the window much more gentlemanly than a thief and a scoundrel probably should, but he's nothing if not a sweetheart. (And a loverboy, but you wouldn't realise it then.)

"Ah, hell wit' them. S'not like they worth your time anyway." Remy's got an arm wrapped around your shoulders, a beer in hand as the two of you lean against the wall of a particular mausoleum. -Course, you had offered whatever ghosts has resided there the first sip as a courtesy, so you're definitely not cursed, right? Not that Remy was even worried about that, but he puts up with your superstitions to comfort you.

"Don't say that, please." You whisper, rubbing your tired eyes. He frowns, knowing that he wouldn't know the first ting about how "normal" families work, but he doesn't quite get why you worry about what they think so much.

"I don't get why you stay, Cher. Not when they treat you like this." You can feel the rumble of Remy's voice through his chest, and find yourself tucking yourself closer into his side. He sets his head on top of yours when you do so.

"What other choice do I have? They're my parents." You whisper, fidgeting with some strings at the hem of your sweatshirt. In hindsight, maybe wearing pajamas to a graveyard wasn't the best choice. You hear Remy chuckle after a moment as a thought crosses his mind, and he swirls the bottle slowly, a few times, before he hands it to you.

"Well..." He starts, giving the words a moment to rest. "There is one option..." You take the bottle from him, cocking a eye as you sit up a little bit to look at him.

"And what's that?"

"Run away wit' me."

He's smirking when he suggests it, a playfulness in his eyes. If only you knew just how serious he was.

"Remy LeBeau!" You scold, unable to fight back your smile as he chuckles at you.

"What? S'not a bad idea, no? No thieves guild, no drama, Jus' you an me." He laughs when you give him an incredulous look and take a dramatic sip from the beer, only to make a face at the taste directly afterwards. Damn, was it rancid.

"Don't get me dreaming, Remy." You mumble. There's only a little bit left it the bottle, and you decide it's better suited for the graveyard. Remy complains about it, trying to fight you for the rest of the beer. The two of you are a couple of idiots to be laughing this loud in a place like this, and even bigger ones to start play-fighting, but neither of you really mind.

You were each other's safe space. The one person the other could run to as the world falls apart around them. Life as a teen was never easy, especially not when you're mutants- but at least you had each other. But as his life was being consumed with the thieves guild, and the prophesy that came with it, you saw less and less of Remy as the years went by.

When you did meet again, it was under the roof of one Professor Xavier. The others were nervous and distrustful about this ex-con entering the team, but you never doubted him for a second. Your person was finally right where you needed him once again. Your Remy. And as smooth as he is around the team, you knew it was a wall, almost an act. Something to befriend the others- but you knew Remy, and you were grateful that after all the years that had passed, he still came to you when he needed you the most.

"Long day?" You ask. Remy hums in response, plopping down onto the bed next to you. You set your book to the side when he rests his head in your lap, soothingly running your hands through his hair as he sighs in content.

"You know it, ma chérie." Remy says in your lap. You can't help but blush at the name still, despite how many years he's spent calling you by the words. Remy's eyes are closed beneath you, giving you the freedom to fully take in the features of his handsome face whilst keeping him unawares. His stubble is growing in, and he's got a few new freckles and scars from your years seperated, but he's still the same wild, reckless kid you fell in love with as a teen. He hums as you brush your thumbs across his cheekbones, catching your hand and pressing it to his lips, leaving a kiss there. He then kisses your inner wrist before holding your hand to his face.

You still don't really know what to say when he does things like that.

"Can I ask you something?" You ask after a moment.

" 'Course, Cher."

"Would you still wanna run away with me?" When the last words leave your mouth, you can feel Remy frown. His eyes open about halfway, your hand still in his hold as he presses it to his face.

"What brought this on?" He asks, and you only shrug, looking away from him as your thumb idly strokes his face.

"I dunno. I was just thinking about it." His skin on your own is starting to feel too warm, your nerves becoming unignorable. Remy cocks an eyebrow at you, before he smiles. Not a smirk, a real, genuine, smile. He takes your chin in his hand, and moves your head so that you're looking at him again.

"If you needed me to run away with you, Belle, I'd do so without looking back." His words make you smile brightly, holding onto the wrist of the hand that holds your chin. You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead, but Remy moves. He sits up just slightly, and before you know it, Remy Lebeau's lips are pressed against yours in a sweet kiss.

Remy chuckles at the surprised face you're making when he pulls back, sitting up a little further so that he can press his forehead to your own, leaning into your space.

"You' always known me to be an opportunist, Cher. Can't help but steal a kiss here an there." Remy says, and your laugh is partly from disbelief, surprise, and outright giddy joy.

"Please tell me you haven't been waiting to say that since we were kids." You ask. Remy smiles brightly in return.

"My poker face 'not good enough for you, huh, ma chérie?."

[crazymadpassionatelove]

Cool Girl

Notes: None of this would be possible without my dearest darlings @ab4eva and @precious-little-scoundrel! All the hugs and kisses to you both xo

Part 2

-

Here's the thing nobody ever admits about being the other half of a celebrity: it's actually as hard or as easy as you make it. Enter hunky, gifted actor who just happens to be hung like a horse? Well, being his lady isn't hard at all. You just have to know the rules. Number one, you can't hear the noise. Not literally, you can hear it. You must strive to live in such a bubble that none of it matters though. You shop, power walk your gated community, and take cock like it's the only job you have. Truly, it is. Pleasing him is of utmost importance. Be ready to hop a plane at a moment’s notice, or even get fucked on said plane. You're so busy spending your man’s cash snapping up authentic mid-century modern homes before certain celebrities turn them into minimalist gray prisons, raising money for dogs who need prosthetics, and trying your hand at that sourdough bread craze, you really don't even have time to see the Instagram hate being spewed your way 24/7.

Number two, remaining an enigma. Selling energy drinks on social media? Having your man pay off some fast fashion brand to “partner” with you for a collection? Appearing on some campy sitcom as a guest star? Not for you, the thought of it actually makes you recoil. You're too busy doing all the little things and making his once barely furnished house a home. Homemade chocolate chip cookies with the chocolate specially flown in from Belgium on his private plane? Check! Gold vintage jewelry via that cute little flea market in Paris is clanking as you insist on being the ones to change the bedroom sheets. A housekeeper comes once a month, and even she comments coyly about your chemistry. Still, she need not see the soaked sheets from the multiple round of lovemaking the two of you do at all hours of the day and night.

Being seen on the red carpet is not your cup of tea, but it's the equivalent of attending your man's office Christmas party. So you pick out a dress, aka one of the couture houses offers to dress you, and he flies you to Paris for multiple fittings and macarons. Then there's some vintage Van Cleef jewelry that appears on the dining room table one morning, and a fresh new pair of Louboutins is the final piece to the puzzle. Then, looking very demur and shy, you appear on his arm, clinging to it actually. You'll smile at the various television hosts and press. Speak softly, and practically defer to him for all questions. He's the star, you're just a great supporting act. Then, when the night is finally done, you both breathe a sigh of relief and he thanks you for being such a good sport. How about a McDonald's drive thru run, huh? That face, oh that handsome fucking face of his that you've been dying to kiss all night. He just always knows what to say. So that's how you're papped still in your couture gown, he in a wrinkled white button down, his jacket slid around your shoulders, feeding each other French fries and chicken nuggets, splitting a milkshake. How wholesome and Americana honestly.

That night he promises to thank you again. Austin's perfect lips wrap themselves around your puffy clit as two, then three fingers curl, shove, and squelch inside you. “You were such a good girl the whole night, baby.” There's something about being called a good girl that makes you absolutely feral. He brings you to orgasm over and over, you lose count after about 7. He's just getting started though. He hasn't even slipped inside. When he does though, it's rough. The glorious slapping sounds of flesh fill the room as he brings himself to the edge over and over, denying himself a release and giving you an additional, what three or four orgasms? You've left feral behind and have crossed over into absolute animalistic filth as you bury yourself in the goose down pillows and practically shove it in your mouth howling. Letting him have his way as you throb and clench, hot and pink with almost blurred vision as he talks you through it. Peppering the conversation with lots of “that's my girl, my pretty baby cums so damn pretty”. When you think you're in need of a paramedic, he blows inside you something reminiscent of Niagara falls. He knows how much you love a vocal man. You end the night not being able to feel your limbs or do anything beyond closing your eyes with a lazy, bashful grin. He gives you one last slap to the ass then mentions as you drift off, “Could you make some of those brownies of yours for the cast and crew tomorrow?”

The third rule of being the other half to everyone's favorite blue eyed baby boy actor? Less is more. This sort of goes hand in hand with the enigma rule. Those celebrities who traipse around in loud designer clothing and accessories covered in flashy logos? That's not you or your man for that matter. Sure you have handbags that cost more than some people's cars, but they are solid authentic leather bags your guy finds you in far flung corners when he's on location. No one really notices when you're papped and printed in People Magazine. You keep your head down in aviators he takes to wearing, a nice little subtle nod. The bands you each wear on that finger are a solid Welsh gold. Whenever his slightly deranged fans see you, the one thing they can't call you is a golddigger. You drive a jeep or even that old Ford truck he restored himself, no Lamborghinis in your garage.

Part of the less is more shtick though is being able to give a cute little nod to him here and there when appropriate. When he's cast in a certain biopic that alters his career and your lives? You sit tight and let him have his moment, after all, you know all the behind the scenes work that goes into it. The blood, sweat, and tears. There are times when he takes method acting to such a level that it's almost like going to bed with another man. You can't exactly complain though. The slight drawl that appears when he says your name is something he is never able to truly shake and you're glad. When the moment is right though, you post a tongue in cheek Instagram post. Your feed is normally bogged down with pictures of the pets, your baking, and various charities you support. This time though, you post a rare photo of yourself looking like you're a certain sort of American royalty stepped from a time machine. It's a candid shot with you at his feet. Worshiping. Except now it's sort of like you worship two men. It's fairly well received, friends tell you, though there will always be hate. Remember, you can't hear the noise. You certainly can't hear the noise women old enough to be your grandmother are making as they lust over the man who's cock you gag on every night.

Those utterly delectable fingers of his snake inside you, make you hiss and come undone as that tongue in cheek sort of throw back makeup you're sporting runs down your cheeks. “Who's my pretty girl?” He teases you. A good hour later when he finally allows himself his own release he's panting your name into your ear. He settles himself in between your breasts. Didn't his agent once mention the girls on Tumblr call him baby boy? If only they could catch a glimpse of him now. Murmuring against your skin and tracing what feels like hearts on your arms. You scroll Zillow and read out the six-figure price tags on castles in Ireland. How does fucking in a dungeon sound, honey?

Rule number four? Be ready to go to bat for him at any moment, others opinions be damned. Being Austin's other half brings out a protective streak in you. A maternal bodyguard quasi agent of sorts. Always keep your eyes peeled for the photogs, especially when he's indulging in that pesky little smoking habit he doesn't exactly like to advertise. That actual management team of his isn't bad, especially once the Elvis flick is underway and you learn just exactly how bad certain managers can be. Still, nobody has his best interests at heart the way you do. Keep his favorite snacks on hand in your purse, water ready at a moment's notice. Your boy has a tendency to work himself to the bone and you certainly cannot allow him to run himself ragged. Tea with hot honey every night was a must while he immersed himself in Elvis. Be his soft place, let him cry and vent while you run your fingers through those golden locks. Take whatever you can off his plate so he can dedicate himself to his craft.

Some wonder if you've lost yourself in him and his life, but it's the exact opposite. You've found yourself. When that angel boy praises you during press tours and jokes on talk shows about you flying out in the middle of the night to see to it his shirts are starched the way he likes and he eats breakfast, well you just sit there and smile. “I couldn't be me without her.” Those words make you melt and you immediately crave the feeling of his hot cream inside you. Playing Elvis brought out a side of him that never truly leaves once filming wraps. Stressed? Tired? Enamored? Him bending you over while you're brushing your teeth becomes a common occurrence. “That's my baby – take it, take it,” you've gotta talk it all out of him sometimes and that's fine with you. You stand in the wings of the Kelly Ripa show and try in vain to hide your red face when a PA offers you a napkin. “I think you spilled something down your leg,” the young girl offers. Something spilled all right, him inside you with his hands gripping your hair just minutes before he was due on stage.

Everything is just so right, it's only natural that cool girl very quickly becomes cool wife.

-

[moodyhaaze]

❛ when you run into your ex… ❜ pt3 — dateables

synopsis. it’s been years since you’ve seen your ex, but on an excursion to your hometown in the human world with your boy, you run into them…

tags. headcanon | slightly NSFW | gn!mc

a/n. this took me way longer than necessary to write. had this in the works since JULY. TENTH. michael have mercy

< part 1 - older bros | part 2 - younger bros >

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚

— 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐎

is aware that his position of Demon Prince is one that’s rather advantageous. He keeps this especially in mind when it comes to his lover. Diavolo is also very aware of his overwhelming demeanor that his loyal subjects know all too well, but the human world has yet to see that side of him. He’s his usual bubbly and extroverted self when he first meets your ex, but when mention is made that this is, in fact, your ex, his whole disposition changes. He’s standing taller, his broad shoulders squared, his glare narrowed on the target before him. He had all but flared his wings and flashed his horns fully in his demon form. It doesn’t take long for your ex to take notice of this and politely and very quickly excuse themself and head the opposite direction of you and Diavolo. “Oh, it’s a shame that our conversation ended so quickly!” It’s not that you hadn’t noticed his swift change in tune, but you certainly weren’t going to question it or mind it, really. Diavolo loops your arm in his and start you all in the opposite direction your ex had walked, “I saw a flyer for a carnival in town, let’s head that way!”

— 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒

is pretty low key and honestly doesn’t even react to your ex showing up. Well, not on the outside at least. The utmost decorum and poise is expected of Barbatos, but his thoughts can be rather ruthless. If your ex approaches, Barbatos will exchange niceties but swiftly move you away from the conversation with whatever lie he can muster. “Come now, my dear, we mustn’t be late for an appointment with the Young Master.” You were a little confused what he meant because you weren’t aware of any appointments with Diavolo, but you roll with it, say your goodbye, and begin walking with Barbatos towards the shops. He keeps an arm around you, grip tight on your shoulder. “Forgive me, my love, but I couldn’t spend not one more second around that scoundrel,” he confesses. You’re a little taken aback, not really pegging Barbatos as jealous type. So, you question him, asking him if he really was jealous. And to your surprise, he says yes, “Well, of course I was. They got to know you long before I did. Got to touch you long before I did. Perhaps even experienced sides of you I’ve yet to experience. But, in due time, I will know every inch of you. Every thought. Everything. You are mine, my dear, I won’t let anyone else have you now.”

— 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍

is absolutely the jealous type. But the silent anger type of jealousy, much like Barbatos. Simeon will exchange a hello and maybe even a handshake and do it all with a smile, but on the inside this man is seething. As the conversation with your ex wraps up and the three of you share your goodbyes you notice Simeon is quiet. You ask if he’s all right and he responds, “Yes, I’m okay, my little lamb. I just…” He trails off, looking dejected and blatantly avoiding eye contact with you, “Did you enjoy talking to them?” Simeon speaks low and, it was hard to hear, it almost sounded like he asked through gritted teeth. You tell him you neither hated it or loved it. Simeon looks relieved and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as his eyes settle on a nearby flower shop. As he redirects your paths to the shop he continues, “I can’t believe how angry I just got.” Simeon lets out a small laugh, “I can’t think of another time I got that angry that quickly. When I saw you smiling at them the same way you smile at me…” You reassure him that you would never smile for anyone like that but him and he seems relieved yet again. He purchases you a big bouquet of your favorite flowers and you both head back to the Devildom where Simeon walks you home. He makes sure to give you a slow, deep kiss in front of the door right in view of Mammon who was about to let you in.

— 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐍

will get very clingy after a run in with your ex. After you mention to him that you see your ex across the way he’s quick to yank you the opposite direction, much to the dismay of his enemy in question. Solomon grabs your hand with a tight grip and with his other he’s using magic to teleport the two of you back to Purgatory hall. You try to question him as to why he’s acting this way but he’s quick to silence you before you can even ask, “Surely you don’t think I’d like meddling with your ex?” You cross your arms, giving him the same silent glare a mother would use with her child. “Oh, come on, love. I’m sorry, okay?” Solomon insists as he steps towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders. As he looks at you with pleading eyes, he slowly begins trailing his hands down your shoulders, resting them on your upper arms. Before you can even register it, his fingers are tickling your underarms. You let out a huge laugh as you try to wrestle away from him but he quickly subdues you by pressing your back into his chest. His arms lock around you, his hands roaming farther and farther down your torso, stopping just above the waistband of your bottoms. “Let me show you just how sorry I am.” You feel him smirk against your neck right before he smothers the skin in bruises.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚

a/n pt2. i’m not sure why i blanked so hard on diavolo’s, simeon’s, and solomon’s but i just could not figure out what i wanted to write for them. quite frankly, i think these hc’s for them suck. i just wanted this out of my drafts desperately. at least barb’s turned out pretty good, imo.

© moodyhaaze | 07•30•23 — do not repost, modify, plagiarize, or translate my writings. likes + reblogs appreciated.

cross posted to ao3.

[winniemaywebber]

It's Been A Long, Long Time

(sage said "imagine this guy meeting his baby son for the first time and I couldn't get it out of my head)

(@sagesolsticewrites @liebgottsjumpwings @trashbag-baby666 @ginabaker1666 @precious-little-scoundrel)

You survey yourself in the mirror for what feels like the one thousandth time, nerves bubbling up from your stomach and reaching your throat, threatening to spill out like fire from a dragon's mouth. You smooth your dress with your hands, a soft rose pink color that compliments your dark hair perfectly. You smile at yourself, the memory of trying it on in front of your husband comes back to you, when he was home on leave all those months ago, and the way his soft brown eyes had lit up the second he'd seen you in it.

“Oh, darling,” he had murmured in your ear as he held you close. “I think this is my new favorite,” his pretty hands suddenly all over your body and his lips upon yours, the touch you'd been craving for years.

You come back to yourself, your knees weak at the memory of that wonderful time, finding your hand clutched to your chest to slow your heartbeat. Tiptoeing quietly about the bedroom, you make it to your dressing table, adding a silver necklace and bracelet set that Harry had gifted you on your wedding day - you'd given him a pair of cufflinks, your initials engraved upon them, him smiling sweetly at you as he'd opened the black box in which they were wrapped. Grinning, you stab an earring into your ear, dropping the back of it as you attempt to move your hair out the way.

“Oh, bother,” you whisper, bending down to retrieve it from where it has dramatically rolled underneath the table. You bend with all your might to grab it, scrambling on the long pile carpet, when suddenly you lose balance, grabbing on to the table to try save yourself. The table slams against the wall, and you brace yourself, lips clamped together, silently hoping that the baby could sleep through it.

A loud, long cry from across the room makes it obvious that the sudden sound was too much, and your son in the crib next to your bed is wailing so hard that his little face is turning beetroot red. You pick him up and attempt to soothe him back to sleep. “Shhh, little man. It's okay,” you coo, kissing his warm face and wiping his tears away. “I'm so sorry. Mama is just a clutz!” You laugh, an attempt to diffuse the tension that's crawling through your body. Seeing the signs that your baby may be gassy, you carefully hold him upright, his body on your chest and his head over your shoulder.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let's get this burp out.” You pat his back 1-2-3, 1-2-3, maintaining a steady rhythm, all while bobbing up and down. A large burp ripples through your infant, shocking him so much that his sweet little head bobs back a little. As if in slow motion, you hear another airy burp leave him - followed by a stream of warm spit up dripping down your shoulder and ruining your dress. You hold the baby out at arms length, inspecting his clothes. He's clean, of course he is. It's just you, the pink material of your dress now spattered with white mottled liquid.

“Darn it!” you whimper, placing the now much happier baby back in his crib, his eyes heavy again from all the excitement. “Little guy,” you say mostly to yourself. “You know this is papa's favorite. Couldn't you have saved all that for the hideous yellow one I wear to church?” You giggle as you catch sight of it, the yellow so bright that it makes you slightly nauseous, not just the smell of your current self causing your nose to wrinkle. With a sigh, you pull off the pretty pink material and unceremoniously try and throw it in the laundry basket. You miss. Of course you do.

Pulling a cornflower blue number over your head and hoping your son keeps the milk to himself this time, you eventually get back to pushing your delicate diamond earrings through your earlobes, taking a deep breath and basking in the success that your outfit is finally complete. Adjusting to being a new mom is hard by itself, but going through the whole experience alone with just letters from your husband was excruciating. The morning sickness with nobody to soothe you and hold you, nobody to place a cool washcloth on your head after you'd been hugging the cold porcelain, your knees red raw and bruised from kneeling over the bowl for what felt like hours. No strong hands being able to rub your tummy, placing one there gently to feel his baby kick. You'd imagined it, though, his doe eyes wide as saucers as he'd stifle his emotion, trying to stop the tears. “Wow,” he'd say, looking at you in amazement. “This is incredible.” You think he'd kiss your growing bump, then kiss you, before placing his head on your chest, his hand remaining on your stomach. The thought of all this lost time is enough for a sob to catch in your throat and cause hot tears to stream down your face. Wiping them away as fast as they come so as not to ruin your makeup, you try and get it together and catch a glimpse at the clock on the wall: 11am.

You run downstairs, hoping for just a few minutes of peace before the baby inevitably wakes up to eat and have a clean diaper again. You want to sit down with a book, but you can't seem to focus, the words all blending together on the page and making your head swim. Trying to shake the nerves, you begin to pace your living room, taking deep breaths every time you reach each end of the room.

You don't know how long you stay like that, basically catatonic as you go back and forth. Feeling like it could be hours, you jump when you hear a loud rap at the door. Rushing toward it, trying your best to smooth every wrinkle from your outfit, you try and compose yourself before opening the door to see your husband for the first time in almost a year. He's in his uniform, the hat slightly bent out of shape at the top. He looks extremely handsome, his pretty mouth spread in a grin at the sight of you. You run towards him, leaping into his arms and wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms wrap around your back, pulling you in as close as he possibly can.

“Darling,” he whispers in your ear. You feel his whole body relax under your hands as you hold him, your hands going up to stroke the back of his neck, your face buried in him to breathe in his delicious scent that you'd missed so terribly. “You look–wow, Jean. So so beautiful,” his eyes softening when he takes you in, just like you knew they would. He leans forward and plants a soft kiss on your lips, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Hi, honey,” you say, as you wipe your tears. “Welcome home. There's someone upstairs you should meet.” The realization dawns on him, and his mouth drops open, nervous. You take his hand and pull him inside, smiling at him all the while. He pauses, gripping your hand a little tighter.

“W-wait, Jean,” he stutters, his eyes downcast and his teeth clamped nervously to his bottom lip. He breathes out, his shoulders sagging slightly. “What if…what if he doesn't like me?”

“Oh, my darling. Don't think like that. He loves you already.” You walk back toward your husband, wrapping him in your arms. “I've shared so many stories with him already, Bing. How we met, how wonderful you always are. Where you've been all this time. The fun times you shared with his Uncle Bubbles…and the newer good times with Uncle Rosie, too,” you pause, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, your hand remaining on his cheek. “And, every time I tell him a story about his Papa, he listens so intently. His eyes are as sweet and pretty as yours, my love, and I see how focused he is on me when I talk of you. He coos whenever anyone says his Papa's name. He looks just like you, Harry.” You pause, surveying the emotion etched on his face. “Please, come and meet your son. He's been kept waiting long enough, darling.” You both giggle at one another, him leaning over and kissing you gently on the cheek.

You lead him from the hallway to the bedroom, the baby cooing, for once wide awake and not crying. You feel your husband take a deep breath, the exhale quivering as he catches sight of the tiny bundle in the crib next to your side of the bed. He walks towards him, instantly scooping him up into his arms.

“Hi, buddy,” he whispers, his lips clamped together to try and stop the tears from pouring out of him. He is, however, unsuccessful, a sob escaping from his mouth as he takes in every feature of his son. “He's so small, honey,” he whimpers, looking between the two of you. You walk over to join them, relieved that your family is now finally together. You hold your husband as he keeps looking at the baby, trying to memorize every part of him. His hand reaches out and strokes the baby's face, the little guy relaxing under his father's touch instantly and his eyes closing, the baby falling asleep without needing extra help for the first time ever.

“Wow,” you blink in amazement. “That usually takes me about an hour. You're magical, my love.” He smiles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I'm so happy to be home, Jean. So darn happy to be with you, and our son. Now, let me change and I'll make sure you get some rest. You've been doing this all alone, honey. It's my turn now.”

Soon enough, you're all in your most comfortable clothes and laying on the bed together. Harry had only put the baby down for a moment to change, before scooping him back up in his strong arms, once again cooing at him, already telling him stories of B-17s, airsickness and England. You lay on your pillow, watching your husband with his son and savoring the beautiful moment. You drift off to the sound of his voice, the comfort you've craved for months.

“Wow, buddy,” he exhales, his words shaking slightly. “We sure do have a lot to catch up on! But first, let me start with telling you about your uncle, Bubbles Payne…”

part two

masterlist

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jafar x GenderNeutral!Reader || Excerpt

Plot: Inspired by This post. Jafar gets insulted by someone insignificant while working a street corner with you, wow-ing passers-by with little spectacles of sorcery for money and its up to you to calm him down. Just something I wrote on my phone while watching the movie ^^

Warnings: Its Jafar so there are some sexual references.

Tags: @asperol-with-izzy , @disney-android-foundation , @lady-love88 , @marinerainbow , @moxiiscool , @ryantryan6969 , and @yesthetrashbin . I hope you are all doing well, and enjoy this small fic! ^^

"I should send him on a picturesque trip down to the depths of the underworld, for that... " Jafar growls, not even seeing you in front of him you don't think. Not even feeling your hands on his chest- too furious, watching after that man that laughed at his 'magic act' and made a spectacle of you both.

"Mhmm, you should," You allow, voice measured and your own temperament relaxed; You've calmed Jafar down a million times before, and this time will be no different. He's wrapped around your little finger... you love him. "but maybe not just this second, hm?... We have a crowd, dear... "

"Damn them all, they all agree. The filthy peasants. They think my sorcery is but trickery. Y/N, I was Sultan. I was the most powerful sorcerer in the world. How did I get here?; Cooking up spells in public for change like a pathetic, needy street urchin. They should all be destroyed, for this. Their absolute insolence! I should- " Finally, he seems to notice the affections you're laying on him, your hands gliding up and down his chest, your soft eyes watching him and listening to him, paying attention to him, looking at him like he's still a king to you. It's enough to make him stop talking, at least, looking back at you and setting his jaw. He just let's out a repressed groan, lips pulled back into a nasty scowl representing the narcissistic entitlement and hurt pride boiling and stewing inside of him. You can almost feel the heat from it all through his clothes and his skin.

Poor sweetheart... such a scoundrel... he deserves all this, really. But you can't help who you love.

"I know... " Voice gentle and comforting, you move in even closer to him, tilting your head to the side. "I know... look, how about we go home now? We've earned enough to make it tonight, and you need your rest." Delicately, you flick the wilting feather on his old Viziers turban up away from his face. ".. besides, after what that man said about us I doubt anyone else around here will give us the time of day."

His eye twitches then and fury still flickers in his deep claret eyes like fire, but his face and his shoulders relax. At least, he's no longer ready to lunge at anyone if you stepped out of the way. "... well you're right about that... disgusting, dirty peasants dont know true power when they see it with their own eyes... "

"Come on... " Now you take his hand, his long spindly fingers curling around yours without a second thought, and move away from him, leading him away from the street corner the pair of you had been working today. The late day sun is hot on your skin and makes you feel lazy, and all you want to do is go back 'home', or to the ill-furnished hole in a wall the two of you now called 'home', and lay affection on him for the rest of the evening. "Let's go home. I promise, I'll make it worth your while."

Here his eyes flicker back to yours again, a different kind of fire flaring in them. Oh, he so, delightfully easy. "Oh really?" A dirty old smirk stretches across his wickedly handsome features and follows your steps more eagerly, now. You've seen this look a million times before, and it still sends a secret, pleased shock through your depths.

"Mhm... I think you deserve it, after the day you've had."

"I agree... " Jafar quips slowly, slightly obnoxious and slightly egomaniacal- just as you want him. "And, ehem, how will you make this worth my while, dear? In detail~... "

Suddenly all the sensuality from before slips away from you and you flash him a cheeky smirk, and a shrug. "... I'm gonna build a fire and brew you a nice, hot cup of tea."

Immediately he scowls again. "You are cruel, my love."

"Well then we must be made for eachother."

Jafar lets go of your hand and, catching up to you with just a couple longer strides, creeps his arm around your waist instead. "Indeed." Then, as you watch him, he gives a mischievous shrug of those broad and regal shoulders. "Besides~ I have my ways of changing your mind, my dear, don't I?~ You'll forget all about tea when we get inside our hovel~ I promise you."

[snipsnipsnippy]

Now it's like snow at the beach Weird, but fuckin' beautiful

“What are you wearing?” 

When Leia stopped, laughing lightly into her hand, Han looked down confused, pinching his shirt away from his chest as he looked down at the singes on his collar and charred stains on his pants. “What’s wrong with it? I’m not showing off for anybody.” He shrugged as the fabric fell back into place. “What are you wearing?” He flashed that crooked grin as he stepped into her, reaching up to bat one of the gems dangling from her headpiece.

With a roll of her eyes, Leia reached up to his chest, properly adjusting his shirt into its place, her smile not leaving her just yet. “It came from the dinner party. It’s ceremonial. It was a gift from the royal family we were hosting.”

“You didn’t tell me there was a dinner. I might have cleaned up for it.” He reached for her hand to stop her from picking any further at his good work shirt. Sure, it didn’t look pretty, but it was one of the few with functioning buttons not melted together.

“I didn’t want anyone to tell me there was a dinner. If I was going to be bored, I know you would have been.” 

Leia was content to have her hand resting in his and their bodies stood together, but Han didn’t want to settle for such little contact. He kept her hand tucked in his against his chest and used his free arm to wrap around her waist and tug her fully toward him. 

He grinned as it earned him a quick gasp from her. “You’re going to stain this dress. You’ve been under these floorboards for hours, Han. You are covered in grease and soot.” Her tone was only half stern as she made no effort to leave his arms. 

This only encouraged Han to wrap his other arm around her, securely locking her against his chest. “Well then, I’m just going to be cleaning this dress later, won’t I?” He ducked down to kiss the smile creeping back up on her lips.

“You are still such a scoundrel.” She shook her head and slipped her arms around his neck. Her fingers toyed with the curls at his nape as she stared almost dreamily up at the man. They’d done this a hundred times before. It was more expected than not that when Leia returned from whatever debate she’d been having, Han would pop up from whatever location of the ship he was fixing that day to welcome her home. It wasn’t always that he was wearing the Falcon’s dirt on his chest, but when he was, it was his responsibility to clean the garments he’d soiled. It was their own little routine, however odd it looked. Her, in her dresses or suits perfectly pressed and spotless, and him, in his worn out work shirts smeared with his last job. “We must make one hell of a picture together now.”

Han laughed, sure that the welding goggles on his head didn’t match the crown on hers, but he couldn’t think of one thing he would change about them. Never could he have imagined he’d be standing there with the woman who seemed to have walked out of his dreams. If it was still one, he never wanted to wake up from it. “Yeah, we do. A beautiful one.”

Flying in a dream Stars by the pocketful You wanting me Tonight feels impossible

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: No Ordinary Duchess by Elizabeth Hoyt

4.75/5. Releases 12/10/24.

The Vibes: stern hero/perky heroine, femdom with an alpha submissive, caretaking, and soothing long-held wounds

Heat Index: 8/10

The Basics:

Elspeth and Julian come from families with a deep history of betrayal and dislike. He's cold, brooding, and strictly regimented; she's free-spirited, quirky, and... oh yeah, aligned with a centuries-old secret society of Wise Women. Julian is on the hunt that his wicked uncle murdered his mother, which brings him directly into Elspeth's path as she seeks out an ancient text of vital importance. As they continue on their separate missions, they keep running into each other—and sharing secrets... and perhaps discovering that their feelings run far beyond on the forbidden....

The Review:

THE QUEEN HAS RETURNED.

I will read anything Elizabeth Hoyt writes. She's written several all-time favorites of mine (Thief of Shadows, Duke of Midnight, The Raven Prince, Sweetest Scoundrel... to name a few) and her Maiden Lane series is, as far as I'm concerned, one of the greatest things committed to the romance genre. She takes big swings, she writes some of the best sex scenes on the block, and she pays equal attention to the characterization of her tortured heroes and her varied heroines who, frankly, rarely have time for said heroes' collective shit.

I have missed her, and I was honestly getting a little worried that she'd decided to take a step back. But I kept the faith! And it paid off, because this return release is everything I could have asked for. It reminds me of what historical romance can be, how it can stretch, and how it can, at the same time, harken back to the bonkers romps I love most.

There is, by the way, a bonkers overarching plot that honestly isn't as wild as Hoyt can get, but. You know. There's a mystical ancient society of goddess-abiding women and also the whole thing where Elspeth's brother killed Julian's sister (Many Thoughts On This) and the hunt for two separate crucial books... It's still wacky. And it should be!

That being said, this plot falls to the wayside in favor of Julian and Elspeth's relationship and character development. I feel like the first Greycourt book, Not the Duke's Darling, which I actually did like, might not have hit as hard for some readers because the Other Plot kind of overtook the Romance Plot. That is not the case here at all. Elspeth and Julian are so front and center that I feel like the Other Plot is borderline tangential, aside from the battle against the Evil Uncle (who you will have seen in When A Rogue Meets His Match, which I really enjoyed a lot but need to reread). You get a satisfying follow-through on all that, but you're absolutely reading for a truly swoony, hot, FEELINGS-Y romance.

I am a longtime lover of books that are basically "stoic man who's constantly wrapped up in his tragic backstory is flabbergasted by That Broad's Audacity". That... could just be how you sum up this book. At every turn, Julian, who it must be said is stupid hot, tries to stay devoted to his brooding. And at every turn, Elspeth pokes him, blinks, and goes "Why is that?"

When she's not reading Georgian porn. Which she does a lot, for someone who's on the hunt for an ancient, super important book. While also dodging assassination attempts. And that's so valid of her.

Julian just can't deal with Elspeth. She baffles him. He's supposed to hate her! She's the sister of the guy who killed his sister! Mortal enemies and all that! Also, she's seriously getting in the way of his own hunt, what with her constantly getting almost murdered and, you know, That Ass. And she's just so disarming, so honest (... in some ways), so blunt about her interests, her desires, what she believes in and what she doesn't. She immediately begins worming her way into his heart, while also making him Hard As A Rock.

But he can't allow for worming into hearts! Not when he has so many secrets, from Plotty Secrets I can't tell you about, to Sexy Secrets I can tell you about. In many ways, this book is basically a classic melting of the hero book. But instead of Elspeth melting Julian with her good, innocent heart... She's melting him with her dogged inability to be anything other than who she is. And her disinterest in being anything other than who she is, for that matter. Which is such a great contrast to Julian, a man struggling to deny who he is, to be what society wants him to be.

It's Uptight Meets Wild in a lot of ways, but Elspeth's a unique form of a rebellious heroine. She's not super concerned about society, but she's also open about her lack of experience in some ways. She's not mean in any way, shape or form. She doesn't have a chip on her shoulder. She's not really like... fighting society? There's one tirade she has about the hypocrisy of it all, but it's less "Fight the power" than "this is so fucking stupid". Which is a refreshing take on it all. Elspeth doesn't get it because it's all so dumb that like... no one as real as her should be able to get it.

And before anyone goes in on how unrealistic this is, A) it isn't B) this is a romance novel C) it actually makes sense, because Elspeth's backstory literally involves being raised in an anti-society, weird family with their own ingrained beliefs and customs. Literally away from high society.

For all that I think the sex scenes in this book will be a major talking point (more on that later)... dude. This shit is so soft at points. You have multiple scenes where Julian just catches himself wanting to stare at this woman. Even before she understands the extent of his pain, she wants to care for him. This is not an enemies to lovers book, despite the enmity between their families. There's a melancholy to their forbidden, especially on Julian's part. He's baffled by Elspeth, but he doesn't dislike her. He's not even in denial about his feelings for her, after a point. He just truly doesn't think they can be.

On some more technical points—this JUMPS right into the story. They meet on like... the second page. The plot kicks off immediately. I've seen so many slooooow, overlong new releases lately. This is a brisk, story that reads so quickly and isn't in any way overlong. You have an extended chunk that takes place in one setting, and yet... plot happens. Character development happens. Relationship building happens. Julian and Elspeth are together for so much of the pagetime, despite their opposite goals.

None of this should be like... notable. But it is. You feel the expertise in the writing here. She's just one of the best to ever do it, in my opinion.

Also! I respect Elizabeth's process and whatever may affect her writing schedule. But my God, I hope we get more Greycourt books, and I hope we get them fairly soon. I counted at least three possibilities for future love stories. And I have Thoughts.

The Sex:

NOW. On to the elephant in the room. The good elephant. The elephant that is as big as Julian's Appendage.

As I said earlier, Elizabeth Hoyt writes some of the best sex scenes in romance. They're unique, they're earthy, they feel tailored to the character. She uses language that is sometimes anatomical and sometimes campy and sometimes like... feels kinda filthy, even though I've read filthier?

Julian's struggles lie in the fact that, for all that he is cold and domineering and stoic, he's submissive in the bedroom. While Hoyt has definitely dabbled in some light kink in earlier books, I would say that a lot of it tends towards like... The kind of kinkiness you often seem in historicals. Where there are definitely dog whistles, but it may not be intentional (historical romance has long lended itself to an unconscious dip into D/s dynamics, in my opinion) historical romance kink often isn't explictly stated.

Here, it's called out for what it is, the societal judgments about it (some of which remain to this day, mind) are discussed, and Julian has processes. Elspeth is more than down. It's like he's unintentionally found his perfect woman (sexually, at least).

But for all that this is explicitly a femdom romance, I think it skirts around so many stereotypes, and it is not, in my opinion, a BDSM romance. They don't get into anything super OTT or formalized. It's really something Julian just... needs. And it's really not a sadomasochism situation at all. It's truly about this soft domme/sub dynamic. He wants to serve, and he wants to be cared for. His submission and what it gives him is described so beautifully. There's a lot of caretaking in this book.

Which doesn't in any way take away from how hot the book is, mind. There's a really unique de-emphasis on something historicals and honestly romance in general often obsesses over, which was so refreshing. There's a true sensitivity to why Julian is into this, and where it stops for him. I feel like Hoyt was doing a sendup of the tortured alpha here, while also exploring what that can mean in more unique scenarios. It was so good.

And so... sooooo hot. There's a lot of body worship in general and pussy worship specifically. Elspeth is curvy, and has her moments of insecurity, and Julian LOVES her body.

Those of us who missed some fun Hoyt-isms about sex are well-rewarded. "Lazily mouthed her cunny" is like.... everything....................

Basically: I loved this. I am so glad she's back. I hope she's back for good (but no pressure). I want a million more Hoyt books. I will, again, read whatever she writes. When I tell y'all she's showing us how it's done... I mean it.

Thanks to Forever and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 28

AND WE'RE BACK FOR A FOURTH TIME. It's that lovely time of the year where I write mediocre smut with no plot for a whole month. So sit your ass down and take a few minutes to read some smut.

As always, kinktober is held by our local Napoleon simp, @xxsycamore

If you'd like to read the last three years, go here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you think

Biting/Marking | Jealousy

As you normally do, you arrive at Will's villa Friday afternoon. You spend every weekend with him while you stay at the mansion during the week. You pack a small bag and take a carriage over after lunch.

You don't even get to knock on the door. With your hand in the air the door opens to Will's smiling face.

"Darling! You're finally here," he hugs you and quickly brings you inside.

When the door is closed you give him a kiss and he takes your bag. You shrug your jacket off and hang it up.

Will takes your bag to the bedroom as you make your way in. You see Puck laying by a window and go to greet him.

"Hey, Puck," you let him sniff you before you start to pet him. "I missed you. Were you a good boy this week?" you scratch him and he flips over.

You chuckle and hear Will come back.

"He was a scoundrel as always,' Will sighs.

You stand up and kiss him again. "It's always when I'm away that he misbehaves."

Will wraps his arms around you, kissing you softly. "I guess that means you should stay," he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

"You know I can't."

"I don't like the thought of you being around them," he scowls, pulling you closer. "Most of them are fiends."

"They aren't that bad."

"You're right, they are worse. I should just keep you here to keep you safe."

"Will," you out your arms around him and look up at him. "Really. It's not that bad."

"They get too close to you. Le Comte spoils you too much. That should be my job," a hand of his rests on your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek. "Arthur has put his hand on you," his face scrunches up. "I want to know I am the only man who touches you."

He plants a soft kiss on your lips. You hum and kiss him back making it a little rough.

"I can assure you that you are the only one who touches me."

"I best be."

Suddenly you are picked up in his arms. You quickly wrap your arms and legs around him and shriek. "Will!"

He chuckles and carries you to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed, laying on top of you. He kisses you roughly.

As you kiss him back, his hand gets between you two to be able to unbutton your shirt. Once he starts you do the same to him, getting all the layers off of him.

He pushes your shirt open and grabs your boobs through your bra. Your hands run down his bare chest, making sure to feel all the contours of his body.

Your fingers graze against his hips, pushing his pants down to feel more bare skin. Realizing that you are wanting to waste no time, he helps you with pushing them down before sitting up to yank your skirt off.

He tosses the clothing to the side and you grab his shoulders to pull him back down to keep kissing him. His tip pushes against you. You open your legs wider and raise your hips, encouraging him to thrust in.

Slowly just the tip enters you, getting you to moan into his mouth. He stays like that for a few moments before he takes your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning you to the bed.

He finally breaks the kiss so that he can hear you moan as he thrusts into you. He holds your hands above your head and keeps his cock buried in you for a few moments to purely hear your moans.

"You sound so beautiful."

He looks down at you. You open your eyes to look at him, realizing that his hair is loose, now that it is all in his face. His two colored eyes peek through strands of hair.

You open your mouth to say something, but he starts to thrust into you before you can get it out.

"A muse so beautiful I ought to keep her locked away," he kisses your neck, not wanting to obstruct your mouth.

The grip on your hands tighten. One of your legs wraps around him, wanting him to stay deep.

"I do not wish for anyone else to lay their eyes on you," he growls by your ear as his thrusts get rougher.

You whine and lift your hips up, trying to move them in rhythm with him. He moves your hands directly above your head so that he can use one hand to hold them, while another hand wraps around your throat.

It's not a tight grip, but rough enough for you to feel it. He kisses your collar bone. "I need them all to know that you're mine."

You gasp and tilt your head back. "I-I'm yours! All yours Will," your moans get louder and so do your whines. The leg around him tightens and your hands pull against him.

"Louder for me," his hand tightens. "I need them to know," he sits up, smirking down at you.

You look up, gasping. "Ahh- all yours, Will!"

You bite your lip to try to quiet down but his hand immediately leaves your neck so that he could shove his fingers in your mouth.

"Don't quiet yourself. I need everyone to hear," you yell past his fingers, feeling yourself getting close already.

"I'll have to be sure to bite you all weekend so no one else comes near you."

You try to pull your hands free again but his grip only gets tighter.

" Or maybe I will simply cuff you to the bed so that no one can take you away."

You look up with pleading eyes.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he smirks and leans down to kiss your neck again, his tongue gliding across your skin before he kisses you there. "You would be such a good little pet for me."

His thrusts get harder, trying to get himself deeper, wanting to touch you as much as he can.

Finally he lets your hands go and takes his fingers out of your mouth as he sits up. He holds your hips into the mattress and fucks into you rougher than before, keeping you pinned down.

"Ahh! Will!" You grip the edge of the bed above your head and try twisting your body, but you stay exactly where you are.

"Louder, my muse."

You pant, your chest heaving as you finally reach your limit. Your walls tightening around him is the little push he needed to fill you.

His hips slow down as he gets every last drop of cum in you before he lets you go and pulls out.

Your panting is heavier and you close your eyes. Will lays beside you, giving you a moment before pulling you closer to cuddle you.

"You're going to make me so sore by the end of the weekend," you breath out

Will chuckles and plays with your hair. "But I will take care of you."

[totallynotokguys]

Lego Monkie Kid Rewatch: Special

Embrace Your Destiny 5/5

Last Time: The animators chose perspective as their secret weapon for this fight, MK and Wukong showed unconditional trust in each other, the power of friendship defeated evil, Lady Bone Demon had a moment of clarity before she vaporizes into nothingness, and I used way too many pictures… apparently.

And finally, on with the show!

“He was saving that for me, because ya know- I’m his mentor!”

Someone is still salty about s1ep9. Though seriously, I am always so amazed and grateful how quickly Wukong forgave MK for that blunder. And he really did forgive him. No holding it over the kid's head, no doubting or being suspicious of where MK’s loyalties lie. The writers could have seriously bogged us down with a ‘I don’t trust you anymore’ arc. But once again Wukong shows just how mature he can be plus how much he believes in the goodness of MK’s heart. It's almost like it's ingrained in him to just trust MK no matter what. Hehehe…. funny that, right?

Don’t think about season 5, don’t think about season 5, don’t think about season 5.

Macaque making sure to say goodbye to MK. And not just goodbye, a promise to see him again.

Welcome to fatherhood, Macaque. MK always needs more dads.

“I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly I never thought I could live as long as I have, let alone be someone’s mentor. Turns out I’m not very good at it. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry MK, for all of it.”

I just…. Just let me cry for a moment. An adult making sure to appologise to a child. To admit their wrongs, justifying the hurt feelings of abandonment the kid may have felt because of them. Wukong really cares about MK, and is finally ready to be vulnerable and honest with him. This means so much to me!

“Sometimes I just play dumb to lighten the mood.”

Speaking of honesty. 

Man MK, way to make the audience scream. All of those fanfic writers, theorists, and artists who were headcannoning your goofy attitude as a defense mechanism to deal with tough or tense situations were basking in validation at this moment. I know I was.

Every season needs to end with these two hugging. I swear. Its so good for my mental health.

Bai He my precious daughter!

Love to see Pigsy and Mo go right back to work warming hearts and healing lives.

Its my girl! And our two favourite scoundrels!

They are friends! Oh I am so happy for her! Look at Scorpion Queen exploring new places and making new friends all on her own! She’s really come a long way from her isolation in the forest.

In a show that only has 20 minutes an episode (excluding once a blue moon where they get a short movie) quick scenes like this are the only way the show has to let us know they haven’t forgotten the side characters, and that those peeps are getting further development- even if most of it we have to glean from subtext. 

Wha- whathwhwhwhaahwahwaWHAWHAWHAAAAAAA!

I have been rewarded once more!!! Rewatch this show guys there is so much you’ll pick up that you missed or could not have possibly realised was relevant/foreshadowing/important-to-the-story-later on. The buildup of this universe is fantastic!

Anyway, that’s a wrap for the special! For real this time.

I cannot wait to get cracking on the next season. Azure was a very cool character and now that I know a little bit more about the Journey to the West, I’m sure I’ll discover new and insteresting details to drool over.

[valentinedaughtler]

Tainted Opal (Part 9)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: You truely recall the time you and Kaz crossed paths as young teenagers. How you fled from your pirate ship into the dark streets of Ketterdam, only to find a scoundrel to scar.

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

9 - His Eyes of Hatred

"We met before, haven't we?" I try to keep my voice calm, but the tone was desperate; a consuming curiosity brewing in the cauldron of my mind. It began to bubble over as the existence of silence grew. The sliver of sunlight left in the day cast a long shadow across Kaz, exaggerating the sharp parts of his face; the dark lines left from a life in the Barrel. It is a constant reminder of who he is and what he will always be. The Bastard of The Barrel.

"Life isn't fate driven, Y/n," Kaz finally mutters while tapping the metallic crow head of his cane with a long, gloved finger. My eyebrows crease in annoyance, I'm not going to get a direct answer out of him. I sigh softly and lean against a barren tree. The sharp bark still pierces my skin through the thick jacket wrapped around me; Kaz's jacket. A blanket of heavy silence draped over us as the moon became the only source of light. I close my eyes and attempt to sift through the old, painful memories from my arrival into Ketterdam.

✶ ♧ ✶

The thick smoke of the endless line of boats had filled my lungs. I surepressed coughs that tried to escape my cracked lips. The smoke and fog masked my clumsy escape off of the wooden ship; off of home. I looked back for longer than I should have, soaking in the remnants of my childhood.

I trudged past bellowing merchants at makeshift stands filled with stealable goods and promising services. The voices of the bustling streets meshed together into a white noise more crackly than the sea I was used to, and diverse smells wafted through the air; food, dirt, death.

My stomach growled like a starved beast, my muscles felt strained and tight. My hungry gaze had landed on a man selling fresh fruits and breads; a strange assortment, but an appetizing one. He was younger, but old enough to have to avoid taxes illegally. His dark skin and curly hair contrasted pleasantly with his orange button up. He had been calling out to possible customers; the walking wallets that roamed the streets. I shifted my demeanor and softened my expression; an attempt to look sweet and desperate. Do what your mother taught you, I had told myself. I took long, elegant strides toward the stand, clasping my hands together as he looked at me. A glint of intrigue sparkled in his deep, dark eyes as he rested his elbows on the wooden counter. It was covered in apples and grapes, as well as warm baked goods.

I greeted him with an innocent smile as he spoke to me, "Ah, what can I do for ya' miss? Maybe a pear, a biscuit... a date?" He had winked and flashed me a dimpled smile. I giggled softly and batted my eyelashes. It felt so embarrassing— so degrading at the time.

"Well, maybe a loaf of bread and an apple?" I requested with my honeydew voice, which poured into his ears with a pleasurable vibration. He nodded with another wink and placed both into a cloth bag. I searched in my pockets, calm at first, but then frantic, a false panic spreading across my face. "My wallet! Oh no, I think someone stole my wallet," my lip quivered as I looked at the shop man with desperation. His expression was unfazed, he even huffed with a deep chuckle.

"You're not from here, are ya', little miss?" He rested his soft-edged face in his hands, amused with how naive I seemed. I had blinked a few times, cocking my head in confusion. He sighed as tears began to pool in my eyes, wiping them away with a calloused finger. "I'll give em' to ya' for free, but next time you come around, take me out for a nice meal," he smirked and extended his hand towards me. I accepted the bag of finessed foods from his outstretched palm, thanking him excessively.

I had whisked my way through the tight crowds until the outdoor markets became scarce. The streets were darker now, oiled lamp light more haphazard the further I walked. The way people took up space was different here. Before, in the markets, pedestrians had grand attires, with even grander ambitions. The cramped space was borrowed by anyone who took it, and the attempt was abundant.

But here, it contrasted immaculately. Those who roamed visibly tried to take up as little space as possible; small slivers of rotting life in the decaying world around them. Most people hadn't wandered openly, instead choosing to slip through the cracks of the city.

These seemed to be the rules of those who lived here, except for a handful of daring strangers I saw lingering outside a packed bar, a few chuckling loudly, drunkenly swaying with the leaning buildings. The rambunctious group had begun to make their way down the street, following a tall man with a cane that clacked against the cobblestone roads. He looked old, or maybe just worn, from his intense angularity and sharpened points. Though, further inspection had proved otherwise, showing the man's— er, boy's- cheeks puffed slightly on his angled face and hard expression. His soft jaw had seemed to be the only way to know he was young. He had actually appeared to be my age.

As the gang passed me with animated motions, I gave a quick wink to one that peered at me for far too long. My eyes were welcoming; entrancing. They were an enticing trap; a siren song that lured in those who thought too little about importances and too much about lust. The man whistled at me and even stopped, turning in my direction. I scanned him for any riches I'd need for future purchases or predicaments. A pocket watch had caught my eye. It dripped out from his chest pocket by a chain, which adorned his tailored suit that had been mishandled from the bar.

His mates had stopped, one making a groan of frustration. "You cannot hit on every pretty gal who acknowledges ya', Big B," a man slurred with a drunken scowl. The broad man, apparently Big B, strutted his way to me, towering over my body with a sly grin.

"You alone in the Barrel?" His words slipped on the sharp constants and bubbled in his deep voice. The Barrel? I remember being confused by that statement. I looked away bashfully for a moment before offering him batting eyes and a small smile. He took both with haste, his gaze narrowing as I had stepped closer to him. Big B's  friends behind him protested, a few stumbling towards him to drag him away. Shit, time for the emergency plan B, I had thought to myself, anxious to snag him watch and sell it to the nearest pawn shop for much too little.

I tripped over the uneven cobbles in the road as I shrunk the space between Big B and I, my hands falling in front of my tipping body onto his chest, right by his pocket.

"I am so sorry, sir, really, I didn't mean to-," my nervous pleas and apologies were stopped shortly by a deep, throaty laugh from the muscular man.

"Doll, no worries at all," he said. I had clutched my hands over my chest, the golden watch trapped between my palms. Shortly after, a few dirtied hands grabbed the thick arms of Big B before dragging him away from where I stood. I made a quick escape to a nearby alley as the men squabbled with one another. I slipped the watch into my pocket as I heard the enraged yells of Big B; he hadn't been able to find his watch for some reason. The roars faded and meshed with the voices of Ketterdam as I climbed my way up to the rooftops of the city.

The night had ticked away on the watched I clutched, my eyes filled with greed and satisfaction with every tik and tok it made. I had found myself my very own sliver of Ketterdam to hide in, an indent of a building that was covered with a dirtied sheet and stacked crates of spoiled produce.

My dreams of freedom and riches were halted by the familiar sound of a cane hitting cobblestone, followed by an unfamiliar noise of a cane hitting me in the arm, not hard enough to break it, but enough to leave a large bruise soon; a warning. I had yelped and contorted my body around the cloth roof of my shelter, lunging at the shadow of a figure; a diversion, as my father taught me, an eye catcher, as my mother had said. The attacker smacked me in the stomach with force, their cane causing my ribs to vibrate like a xylophone. I ignored the intense throbbing pain— another trick I had learned on the boat- as I rolled part of the sheet up. With a few flicks of my wrists, the wrung cloth was tightly around the neck of my current opponent. I squeezed tighter as I stared at them.

Before me had stood a reddening face— suffocation has that affect on people- of the sharp, dark boy from earlier. The ring leader of his own gritty circus. He once again used his cane to hit me in the leg, but I used this falling opportunity I had felt to smack my forehead into his. This along with the chokehold I had him in caused the boy to fall back, his well-groomed, dark hair covering his eyes a bit. He was strangely beautiful now that I had noticed it, in an intense sort of way.

Time was ticking away as I observed him, so I shoved him into the alley wall, where an eroded brick cut his lower lip. I ran with haste into the slick street as rain began to pour down in large globs. My hair had stuck to my skin, along with my wet clothes, where the gold watch was pocketed.

✶ ♧ ✶

My chilly hands fumble through my pants pockets, finding the signature time-teller of mine; a—now quite scratched- good pocket watch that hung from a thin chain. I held it in my palms, the sharp cold nipping at my finger tips. Kaz's eyes were glued on the small clock, his lower lip twitching. I toss it to him, and he unsurprisingly catches it with a single gloved hand.

"Maybe there is some fate," I finally melted the silence with a warm voice. I chuckle softly, looking at Kaz, his round cheeks and soft jaw were long gone, and he seemed to have become sharper and harder over the two years that past, the Barrel chipping away at his humanity with greediness to destroy a boy. His lower lip had a scar that ran down the center, an immortal reminder of the time a former pirate girl got a leg up on Kaz Brekker, no one got a let up on Kaz Brekker.

"Or maybe Ketterdam is too small for those with such high ambition," the oddly attractive boy responds with a rasp.

"I think that may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," I reply with a light laugh. Kaz doesn't  say anything, but he met my gaze with eyes that weren't completely filled with hatred.

________________

Word Count: 1889

________________

I took a quick break from writing to allow my creative drive to return, thought it's better to write better than write more.

-Valentine

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: September 30

I've been back at my reading, y'all, doing some major catch up. And what a ride. There's a METRIC TON™ of amazing writers under the cut.

Brace thyself.

🪐 = Year of Themed Creation piece

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EZRA

Kisses of Fire by @simpingcowboy 🪐 It starts with an unconventional if not favorable bargain and then evolves. If I could make Ezra fall in love with me a little over a long time, I'd be patient too...

Lucky Stars by @brandyllyn I am SO IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC. Not only does Brandy nail Ezra's voice, cadence, swagger, and world, she even gives him someone who's onto his scoundrel-with-a-heart-of-gold behavior and just barely allows herself to be charmed by it. This feels so very canon and so very Ezra and I just need to roll myself up in it and cuddle it real hard.

Saying I love you with a letter by @songsformonkeys 🪐 Hanna is one of my favorite writers of deep emotions. Her Javi G is one of my all-time faves and I will never not laugh at her Javier. But I will knock you over to get at her Ezra and this is no exception even though you're gonna need tissues. Listen. Would like to get a letter of love and missing from Ez? Because this is it. Savor it.

Lost in the Weeds by @haylzcyon Have you seen this artwork? Insert Ezra and you and you have this fic. It's a beautiful little snippet that quietly documents falling in love with Ezra, and that's my favorite kind of Ezra story.

Wild Mountain Thyme 2 by @writeforfandoms Dragon Universe Ezra is back and he is not impressed with his tagalong. She's chipper and eager and seems to be up for his brand of grumpy today. I'm excited to find out how Jen turns his cart around.

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DIETER BRAVO

Fifty Shades of Orange by @all-the-things-2020 🪐 If you love Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, you're going to love love love how Dieter fits into this crossover. I am super impressed with this fic because it is, first and foremost, a HHGTTG fanfic. And it succeeds wildly at capturing the tone and attitude of all the characters. And I love that Dieter's just what Dieter is here, not the main character, but an odd problem to be solved. As a character, he fits so seamlessly into this world, I was kind of in awe for this whole ride. Aw man. Enjoy.

Position: 69, Position: Snuggled Spoon, Position: Sit on the Throne, Position: Kneeling Reach-Around, Position: Honey Bear, and Position: Froggy Style as part of @prolix-yuy's Bangathon 2023 Listen. LJ obviously loves her some Dieter. I appreciate the sweetness and softness of some of these, that Dieter is in need of some care and connection...and someone to just come undone around. I loved all of them, but props to Snuggled Spoon for it's slowness and softness, and to Froggy Style for the moment of the reveal. The whole Bangathon is wonderful, and the Dieter fics are certainly some of my faves there.

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JOEL MILLER

It Pours from Your Eyes by @the-blind-assassin-12 I mean, yes, it's a Joel fic, but really, it's Tess. It's Tess and it's beautiful. Alyssa has woven a 1200 word spell here, expertly painting a picture of Tess's heart and how it works to keep Joel's beating. It's so gorgeous and I'm just bewitched and bereaved... I'm almost begging you to read this.

Surrender [chapter twelve] by @ezrasbirdie This chapter just wrapped me in the yearn blanket. Written in three sections from the POVs of Daisy, Ellie, and Joel, each section just pulls at a different heartstring and all of them together are such pretty music. Yes please this found family that loves each other so much...

Year of Small Joys - Candles by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 Inviting Joel over to dinner in Jackson is inviting a damaged soul to sit down and heal. He's still got a little PTSD here, but a nice meal by the light of scented candles he looted? That's a nice step in the right direction.

Let's Twist the Knife Again by @missredherring I am obsessed with this little "time travel" story. I don't know exactly the mechanics of what's going on here--is it a dream? is he being given a second chance? is he stuck in a time loop?--but watching Joel retrace some familiar steps knowing what he already knows is fascinating and I would love to see what comes next.

Hypothermia by @morallyinept Jett's cleverly come up with the "giflet," a drabble based on a gif. This one is Joel in his sleeping bag. And you're in yours. And it's cold. But it ends soft, and that's my favorite.

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PERO TOVAR

The Herbalist: Part 7: Drinking Won’t Change the Audacity But Maybe It Will Help by @blueeyesatnight I'm so caught up in this story of beasts and strange people in Victorian England. Now we learn about Pero's past and a little more, but there's also something chewing at the edges about our heroine lady sleuth and I can't wait to find out what it is!

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JACK DANIELS

F is for Forced Orgasms / Fucking Machines by @butchmandalorian 🪐 Istg Max is out to pull me out of my soft places and make a sub out of me. I am not usually into the hard stuff, but everything they write is like beautiful crack and I cannot stop. I think it's because everything is so real, there's so much checking in and trust involved, I probably sound like a broken record, but hells bells that's my kink and Max writes it so well. I will say that daddy-talk is usually a turnoff for me, but I really REALLY appreciate that Max sets the scene thoroughly and explains that it's just a title, that any word can be substituted (read the warnings). I for one used that suggestion and appreciated that heads up. Looks like someone not only knows how to write a man that takes care of his partner, but is also a writer that takes care of their readers. Love it.

Black and White by @never--doubt 🪐 I've never seen this soulmate mechanic before and it's an interesting take on the traditional mark--one that changes color when your soulmate touches you there for the first time. Oh to be on mission with Agent Whiskey when the change happens....

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FRANKIE MORALES

Not Leaving You Again by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 (With Santi Garcia) It's a two-for-one not just in protectiveness and smut but in boys! It's hard not to fall for both of them--one of them sultry, one of them sweet--and it doesn't hurt that they're up to the task of sharing.

Buck Moon by @grogusmum 🪐 Listen. If you've ever wanted Frankie for the first time, naked (well, except maybe his hat) under the full moon out in nature under the full moon, have I got a fic for you! AAAAAAAA

We Came Along This Road by @insomniamamma 🪐 When J goes angst, J goes hard, and Frankie is many times her main target. Set within the world of the movie, the reader is his girl with his baby, and he's got some substance problems. Frankie has some trouble keeping promises.

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OBERYN MARTELL

First Dance by @hopeamarsu 🪐 Asking Oberyn for a dance when you know right well what you're both after is genius. Because he's probably a beautiful dancer so you get to experience that, but also, it only ramps up what's coming. What I wouldn't give to sit on this man's lap and ask him to dance just to see the look on his face....

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TIM ROCKFORD

Black Days 7: Times Are Gone For Honest Men, Black Days 8: Eyes Were Waking Up Just To Fall Asleep, AND 2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #5: Tim Rockford - Jealous Kiss by @something-tofightfor I will knock you down to get at Rachael's Tim Rockford. This man is complicated, their relationship is starting off complicated, and their circumstances have the potential to continue to complicate matters...and yet. These two seem to fit together just fine, easy as pie and coffee. The way he cares... I so can't wait to see what (and who) comes next.

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SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

JANE FOSTER

Undefeated by @captainsophiestark 🪐 Listen. I've never played pong in my life, but if Jane Foster walked into my party and wanted in on a game, I'd pong so fast....

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BOFUR THE DWARF

Love at First Fight by @ironmandeficiency 🪐 When you swear to keep your friend safe from the man who most recently broke her heart, your drunken ass threatens the wrong man. Or, rather, the right one. Or, rather, the right dwarf.

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[shadowphoenixrider]

The Jedi and the Scoundrel

(Decided to write a little Halloween fic of my two idiots. There is a plot, I think, if you squint. It's more just some silliness and those two being nerds. Enjoy!)

"Well, well, well," the thick Cajun drawl rolled over me like a wave, "what's a pretty li'l Jedi like you doin' so far from the Temple?"

I arched my eyebrow as Gambit swaggered over to me, in a surprisingly faithful costume of Han Solo, and I tried not to stare at how flatteringly it wrapped around his body.

"I could ask you the same thing, Captain." I shot back, folding my arms. "Haven't you got more important things to do than chat up Jedi? Save princesses, perhaps?"

"Rather save ya from bein' lonely, Master Jedi." He grinned, and I rolled my eyes. "'Course, Gambit could go see what de others be wearin', but he mighta gotten a li'l distracted..." He leant against the same banister I was, his red-black eyes roving over me. "You're lookin' good, Shadow."

"Ah, thanks." I lifted a shoulder, pulling my dark brown cloak back so he could look at the pieces beneath. "Isn't anything special like yours, just stuff I picked up from fancy dress places." I tapped the bulky saber clipped onto my belt. "And a toy I had when I was younger. I suppose I could ask Hank to give me a hand making something a little more faithful next year, especially if you're gonna show me up like this."

"Aw, don't sell yaself short!" Gambit smiled. "Ain't no-one goin' around judgin' what we look like - it jus' a bit 'a fun." He smirked. "Logan goes as de same look every year."

"And what's that?"

"Grumpy ol' man." The Cajun grinned toothily.

"You be careful how loud you say that, or I'm gonna be sewing you back together again." I giggled, watching the others move through the main atrium of the mansion below, chattering excitedly.

A bear form Ber loped away from Jubilee, who was trying to playfully bite him with a pair of fake vampire fangs she'd found, whilst Kurt - a resplendent pirate captain of the seven seas - was giving a nervous Myst gentle encouragement to join the others, examining a piece of clothing he had grasped in his hands.

"Gonna be quite de party wit ya friends here." Gambit commented, sidling closer to me. "Excited?"

"Looking forward to it." I nodded. "Though I'm not one for big events. I think once I've seen who's dressed up and who's not, I won't be staying for too long."

"Sure we can find a nice quiet place to spend some time together, Master Jedi..." Gambit purred in my ear, looping his arm around my waist. I rolled my eyes again.

"You're just thinking of how to get me out of these robes, aren't you?"

"C'mon, don't tell Gambit you Jedi are celibate now, eh?" He pulled his head back to raise his own eyebrow at me, one I returned.

"The Code warns us against attachments, not celibacy, Captain." I replied.

"Gonna have to explain dat one to me." Gambit moved around to behind me, settling his chin onto the top of my head.

"It's a simplification." I said, letting him mould his body around me. "When the Code mentions attachments, it doesn't mean relationships outright, it means obsessive attachment." I leaned my head back to look up at him. "Putting that relationship above all other things, and being unable to let it go when the time comes. That's why Anakin fell to the Dark Side. Not because he loved Padme, but because he loved her so much he couldn't let her go when it was her time, and ended up being the cause of her death."

"So he shoulda let her die in childbirth?" Gambit asked, not unkindly.

"Of course, you should try not to let that happen, but it's prophecy, isn't it? The Force gave Anakin prophetic dreams of losing Padme in childbirth, and in his obsession to save her, he made the prophecy come true." I chuckled softly. "As how these things go. The more you try to escape destiny, the tighter it ensnares you."

"Hmm." Gambit hummed. "Dat a little sad, though. Dat nothin' he coulda done could've escaped what were gonna happen. Ain't fair to think everythin' already be written, dat we jus' followin' de strings dis world laid out for us."

"Yeah, but I don't think everything is set in stone. Maybe it's less 'this is how things will happen', but it's knowing how and what someone will choose to get there. The reason why Anakin fell to the Dark Side was because he was particularly vulnerable to losing those he loved, and he followed the exact choices that would be expected to lead him down that path. He could have chosen to deviate at any time, and stay off it, and it might not have happened."

"Better to try den jus' sleepwalk ya way into ya fate." Gambit agreed. "But how would dat be differen' than to what he did dat still led him to de Dark Side?"

I frowned.

"It's...difficult. I think there has to be a line where 'seeking a solution' goes too far. Although," I glanced up at the Cajun, smiling weakly, "I think perhaps he should have talked to Obi-Wan about it."

Gambit chuckled.

"Guess we don' have much room to judge on dat," he said, gently squeezing me close.

"No, I guess we don't. And it's very annoying that I can no longer talk shit about shows like that because of it." I folded my arms.

"Didn't expect to hear Jedi philosophy coming from you two." A voice from behind us made me turn, to see Ebak and his lopsided grin, one scarred eyebrow raised.

"Hey! Jus' 'cos I prefer Star Trek don't mean I don't enjoy discussin' de other one!" Gambit retorted.

"Sure, sure. You're definitely not dressing as Han Solo for any particular reason or anything." Ebak commented, his smirk widening.

"If Shadow an' Gambit gonna have a combo costume, Gambit would be Leia." The Cajun replied smoothly, his own grin appearing. Ebak's grin didn't budge, clearly thinking of Leia's space buns and her white dress from New Hope, and entertaining himself with that.

My thoughts, however, had gone to Return of the Jedi, and it was all I could do not to choke on my own breath. An effort failed when Ebak's dark brown eyes flicked to me and it took him about a nanosecond to put it all together. He gave Gambit a flat look.

"Oh. Right. Why am I not surprised."

Gambit grinned sharkishly.

"An' is de Great Ebak gonna come as anythin'?" He asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Cajun?" Was my sibling's cool reply.

"How about you stop following this line of inquiry before you wake up stripped down in a laundry basket?" I interjected, giving Gambit a Look.

"Don't threaten Gambit with a good time, chère." He grinned at me, and I rolled my eyes so hard I felt my soul try to escape through my skull.

"Do you want him, El?" I asked, slipping out of Gambit's embrace and striding past my brother down the stairs.

"No, you can keep him." Ebak replied. "You know I can't handle spicy food."

"You wouldn't know good food if it bit ya on de ass!" Gambit shot back. "Wait, chérie!" He cried down to me. "At least let me give ya a kiss!"

"Save it for later, Captain!" I called back, unable to restrain my grin. "The Force calls me towards other duties!"

---

The best thing about Jedi cloaks is not only are they surprisingly cosy and warm, the hoods let you slip out of social events with barely anyone seeing you.

Not that anyone in the mansion particularly minded when people drifted away for a break, especially since my friends had unofficially joined the menagerie of mutants here.

Yet sometimes it was better to drift away into the shadows like a smoky memory, dispersing in the breeze. It was a peaceful secrecy, hidden away out of mind from the others for just a moment.

I pulled my cloak tighter around me as I stepped out into the night, the cold chill of autumn giving way to winter nipping at me with its icy teeth. The swimming pool was long covered over - only Ber's Slavic skin could probably tolerate the cold water, and even he preferred to spend time talking shyly to Rogue, warmed by his blush and her Southern compliments.

I let the smile grow across my lips, shaking my head. Of all the people I expected to be drawn to the Southern belle, Ber had been fairly high on the list, yet I had been delighted to see the interest returned, even if Rogue was understandably tentative. And yet...

Low voices dragged me from my thoughts, and I glanced up to the roof - a pair had already made their roost up in that secret spot, and from the slight golden glow coming from a pair of eyes, I had a fairly good idea who they could be. I turned away, leaving them in peace.

Damn. Where'd that Cajun get to? I wondered, chewing my lip. He couldn't have gone all the way up to the lake, surely?

My legs began to start pacing back and forth as I thought, when a deep voice sounded out behind me:

"Lost, Master Jedi?"

I whirled around to see a pair of red eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, the tall, lithe form of the man they were attached to looming over me.

"Jesus, Gambit!" I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest as a wide, toothy grin grew over his lips. "Fuck, you don't need a spooky costume with those eyes of yours."

"Non, dey always make people jump dis time 'a year." He agreed, chuckling darkly. "Been spookin' any folks comin' through here."

"It's a miracle you're still in one piece!" I looked him up and down, not hearing a peep of distress from his body.

"Gambit been doin' dis enough to know who he can scare without gettin' taken out." He grinned, sidling closer to me. His voice dropped into a lower, darker register. "Now...I don't think you answered my question, Master Jedi." He leaned in, hot breath tickling my ear. "Are you lost?"

I couldn't help the shiver that ran up my spine, noticeable enough to make the Cajun's grin grow ever wider. I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Not lost, Captain." I stared into those pools of ruby and black. "Just looking for you."

"An' why would an upstandin' Jedi like you be lookin' for a scoundrel like me?" He asked, leaning closer. "Maybe there ain't enough scoundrels in ya life, non?"

"I happen to like nice men." I replied, a grin flashing over my face as I realized what he was doing.

"I'm a nice man." Gambit purred, stepping even closer, his lips hovering alluringly close to mine.

"You...are not tempting me over to the Dark Side that easy." I grinned widely, pressing my hand against his face and pushing him back.

"Hey!" I darted away from his grab, giggling. "Didn't ya say dat Jedi can have partners?" His dark eyes narrowed. "An' you owe me a kiss."

"I did, and I think you'll find you wanted to give me that kiss!" I replied, sticking my tongue out at him. "But if you want it, Captain, you're gonna have to catch me!"

Gambit arched an eyebrow, before a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh, dis how it gonna be, brigand?" He laughed. "Den by all means! But ya know what's gonna happen when I getcha!"

"If you get me!" I yelled back, my cloak billowing out behind me as I dashed back into the mansion, the sounds of his boots already close behind.

"Ya know Gambit always wins dese games, mon ombre!" He called back to me as I darted down the hallways.

Maybe. But they always made the nights one to remember, and the reward was always worth the chase...

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 37

This part is dedicated to @fawnandshadows. Though Valentine's Day isn't my favorite, I know you love it and I want to give this part to you. So, Happy Valentine's Day, my love. 💕

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 5,879

The night of Feyre’s gallery showing came up faster than Elain anticipated, having a week full of surgeries and a few fourteen-hour shifts. To say she was looking forward to a night off with her family was an understatement.

She was in the walk-in closet, slipping on the dress she had purchased just the other week for tonight. It fit her like a glove, and now with her hair and makeup done, Elain felt even more beautiful than when she tried it on. She managed to get it half-zipped but would need Az’s help for the remainder. Slipping on her heels, she stepped out of the closet and found him with his back to her, putting cuffs on.

“Az,” she called. “Can you zip me up?”

He turned to face her and froze. Those golden eyes flicked over every inch of her. Devouring her. Like he couldn’t look at her enough. “Elain,” he groaned, slowly moving forward. “Fucking hell.” His scarred hand landed on her waist, tugging her closer to him. “You look…wow.”

A smile curved on her lips. “Is that all you can say?”

“When you come out here looking like some divine goddess…forgive me if it takes me a few moments for my brain to catch up.” His fingers stroked over her body, touching her everywhere he could. “Beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, fucking delicious…” his mouth quirked up, “I could go on.”

She huffed a laugh. “Well, aren’t you a man with many words?”

“My mouth has many things it wants to do with you,” he murmured, kissing her hungrily.

Elain’s toes curled in her heels. “Did our earlier romp not satisfy you enough to last through the evening,” she teased, even as warmth pooled between her legs.

He kissed her jaw, her throat, over her pounding pulse point. “I’ll never have enough of you, my love.”

She smiled brightly, running her fingers over the lapels of his suit jacket. “Can you zip me please?”

He motioned for her to turn around, running those delectable scarred fingertips over her exposed skin and making her shiver. He gripped her zipper and pulled, but when she felt it going southward, she had to chastise him.

“Azriel,” Elain admonished. “Zip up, not down.”

His devious little grin pressed into her shoulder. “You sure?”

“We are not missing Feyre’s showing because you’re a scoundrel.”

He hummed. “You didn’t seem to mind my scoundrel tendencies this morning when I had my head between your legs.” Tugging the zipper in the correct direction, Az placed one more kiss on her bare neck before fluffing her hair back into place.

Elain twisted in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You made a compelling argument this morning.”

“I can make many compelling arguments right now,” he told her, grabbing at her behind.

She laughed, pulling out of his arms. “Tempting. But what is it that you always say about delayed gratification?”

Those hazel eyes went dark with lust. “Elain Violet Archeron, you little minx. Don’t make me remind you just how much I love to delay your gratification when we get home.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Let’s reconvene later tonight,” she told him, adjusting his collar. “You need a tie.”

“And a watch. Do you want to pick one out for me?” he asked her, giving her a playful push towards the closet where he kept his collection stored.

Elain slid open the top drawer of his closet chest and paused when her eyes found a particular watch sitting on a plush cushion. Her fingers traced over the face, the worn, leather band. It was the watch she had given to him the night of their high school graduation—before he had broken up with her.

“Did you pick one?” came his midnight voice from the entrance of their closet.

She lifted the piece of jewelry from the drawer and turned to face him. “You still have this?”

He stepped further into the room. “I wore that every day through Bootcamp and after until it basically gave out on me.” He touched the band where it looked close to breaking. “I didn’t want to lose it so I stopped wearing it.”

“I can’t believe you still have it.”

Az gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her gaze to meet his. “It was my one connection to you through all those years apart. Think of it as my gym shirt.”

Her cheeks heated at the mention of said shirt that she kept for over a decade. “You know you don’t actually have to keep it now. It wasn’t the most expensive piece of jewelry—not in comparison to what you wear now.”

Those eyes softened indefinitely. “El, that will always remain my favorite watch because it’s one you gave to me. That you bought with your hard-earned money in high school. I will never get rid of it.” He let his thumb stroke her plump, bottom lip before leaning in to kiss her tenderly.

“You’re too sweet for me,” she murmured onto his lips. Turning, she placed the old one back and searched through his collection for another. To be honest, Elain was only familiar with the Rolex brand, but Azriel had five other watches in this drawer that he didn’t wear on a day-to-day basis. She eyed his suit—typical black—but he forgo the white button-down for a black one. He looked like a living shadow. Following his style, she grabbed his single solid black watch, the only hint of color were the gold numbers, hands, and logo on the face. “How’s this?” she asked, presenting it to him.

His mouth quirked up. “Perfect.”

Elain beamed. “You look very handsome, Az.”

He brushed a kiss to her temple, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Not as beautiful as you, my love, but I suppose we’ll make the most gorgeous couple at the showing.”

She laughed softly.

“Are you ready?”

“I need to just tighten the strap of my left shoe. It’s a little loose. Then I’m ready.” She moved to sit on the little ottoman they had in their closet, but he stopped her, kneeling to adjust the strap himself, and then brushed a light kiss on her bare thigh from the slit of her dress before rising to his feet.

“Thank you,” Elain murmured, taking his hand.

Azriel led her from their bedroom and down the stairs where the Moonbeam twins were waiting, dressed in suits and ties and looking immaculate as ever. Since the night of the club when she had felt somebody watching them, he’d amped up her security. Fenrys and Connall were constantly at her side, escorting her to and from the hospital. They even went as far as doing security checks in the lobby area and parking lot before letting her out of the car.

It was over the top, but Elain let Az have his way for the last week to appease his need to control the situation at hand. However, she was almost late to work twice and this wasn’t going to work as a long-term solution.

“Azriel, Elain, you both look lovely,” Connall greeted them. “I like the contrasting black and white attire you have going on.”

They glanced at each other, chuckling at the realization. It was giving a Phantom at the Opera vibe. “Well,” she began, “he is my darkness.”

“And she my light,” he finished.

Connall grinned.

Her eyes turned to the other brother and met Fenrys’s gaze. He gave her a once over, then offered her a small smile. Things had shifted slightly between them since the shopping trip. Whatever feelings Fen was having, it was clear he was doing his best to not let them interfere with his job. Elain appreciated it completely—she just wished he kept up his sassy attitude with her.

She missed her friend.

Just like at the hospital fundraiser, both twins were wearing coms to communicate with each other and would be escorting them around Feyre’s showing. You can never be too careful, Az had told her.

The drive over was fairly quiet. Azriel kept his hand placed on her thigh, bared from the slit of her dress, his thumb rubbing back and forth on the inside of her knee.

When they arrived at the showing, Az grabbed the umbrella to fight off the rain that had begun to fall on their car ride over and escorted her with an arm around her waist, the twins following close behind each under their own.

Feyre’s art skills blew up about five years prior, her pieces being attractive to the rich and famous alike, and she became a household name around the world. So, it wasn’t surprising to see the place packed with people, eager to see her new pieces.

Azriel handed her a glass of champagne from a passing server tray. “Come, I want to show you what I’ve purchased for my office at work.” With one hand holding his own glass and the other low on her back, he guided her through the crowd until they stood in front of this beautiful artwork of what Elain knew was a depiction of his Illyrian heritage.

She let out a small breath, eyes taking in every inch of the gorgeous work. “You purchased this?” she asked, turning to look up at him.

His gaze was still on the piece, but there was a very faint pink hue to his cheeks. “I did.”

Elain blinked, once again looking at the art. “It’s an Illyrian.”

“In our previous form, yes.” His thumb swooped soothingly over her hip.

“Why did you buy this?”

“You know I have that blank wall in my office—”

“No,” she interrupted. “Not a painting in general but this specific one. You’ve never embraced your Illyrian heritage before.”

He cocked his head to the side, dark hair sliding across his brow. “It spoke to me, I suppose. Your sister showed me this piece by accident; it wasn’t even completed at that point, but something struck me inside. Made me drawn to it. Want it. Even in the early stages, I knew I needed this.”

She listened to his words and took in the painting once more. “It’s a show of strength.” Elain nodded towards the painting. “That’s what I get from this piece. The Illyrian has overcome some hardship, reaching the top of the mountain of his quest. His journey. I see him embracing that strength. It reminds me of you.” She turned to face him. “I see you in this painting.”

Azriel kissed the side of her head.

They slowly made their way through the exhibit until they found their siblings.

“You made it!” Feyre squealed, embracing them both.

Elain laughed softly. “Did you think we wouldn’t?”

Her elder sister smirked. “Seeing as he can’t keep his hands off you, yes, a little bit.”

“Nesta!” she hissed, blushing furiously. “Please don’t tell me you all bet on us coming tonight.”

Cassian tossed an arm over Nesta’s shoulder and plucked her champagne glass from her fingers. “Not this time, Ellie. Though it was tempting after hearing about that dress you’re wearing.” He winked, taking a swig.

“Such poetry, brother,” Azriel drawled.

“Before you two get into it, because I can already see it coming,” Nesta started, waving a hand dismissively between the two males, “are you all available this weekend? We want to do dinner with everybody.”

It wasn’t often Nesta asked to get together—actually, it was never—so, to have her requesting family dinner came as a bit of a surprise. “I’m on shift this weekend, but what about the next?”

Her sister glanced up at her husband who nodded at her. “That works for us. Fey?”

Feyre was already checking her calendar on her phone. “Yup, that should work for us. Rhys?”

“I’ll make whatever day work.”

“Do you have anywhere specific in mind? I have a new recipe I’d love to try out on you all if you’re interested in coming to the penthouse,” Elain asked.

“What are you making?” Cassian queried, clearly interested in getting some of her cooking.

She laughed. “Chicken marsala.”

“Sold!” Cash whooped. “I love marsala sauce.”

Nesta grinned. “That sounds perfect. Are you sure you’re okay to cook? Can we bring anything?”

“Just your lovely selves. Let’s do six o’clock.” Elain loved to play host whenever she could. The idea of having her family over, feeding them something she made from her heart brought her such joy.

Azriel’s large hand squeezed her hip as he leaned down to kiss the side of her head.

She curled herself into his side, savoring his warmth as they continue browsing the artwork and mingling with other guests.

~~~

Two weeks had come and gone in a flash.

Elain was at the stove stirring the chicken marsala when two strong arms wrapped around her middle and a head settled on her shoulder.

Azriel kissed her cheek, his nose slotting her hair to get better access to her neck.

She giggled. “Azriel, I’m trying to make dinner.”

“And I’m trying to kiss you,” he murmured lightly in her ear, teeth grazing her lobe.

Setting the wooden spoon down, she twisted in his arms. Reaching up, she took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

His hands slipped under her skirt to feel the bare skin of the back of her thighs and lower ass.

“You’re so soft,” she teased.

That made him pull back and raise a brow. “Believe me, love, when I say that nothing about me is soft. Especially not when I’m around you.”

She huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes at the innuendo. “That’s not what I meant you prick.” Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed his chest right over his heart. “Your heart is soft—your soul.”

He looked a bit startled at her words like he wasn’t expecting her to say them out loud. Az still sometimes believed himself to be this monster—especially since the rise of this new threat.

It fractured her chest knowing that he believed himself responsible. “I love you, Az. All of you.” Elain would spend the next eternity telling him those exact words until he truly believed them himself.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, kissing her again. More intensely than before. With purpose and need and desire and love.

Too wrapped up in each other to notice the ding of the elevator, it was Cash’s voice that finally pulled them apart. “Gross, guys. Not near the food,” he complained.

Az turned to glare at his brother, but Elain just raised a brow.

“Does that bother you, Cash? If so, you may want to avoid the table, the counter, the couch,” she began, counting on her fingers as she went. “The gym room, his desk, the stairs—”

“The washing machine,” Azriel added helpfully.

Elain pointed at him. “Oh, I forgot about that one.”

“Okay, enough!” he sighed. “Gods, fucking rabbits, the both of you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. They hadn’t truly done it on all the things she listed off, but it was worth seeing Cassian’s face turn paler after each location. No, they hadn’t had sex on all of them, but they were marking them off relatively quickly. She chanced a glance at the male next to her finding a knowing smirk on his lips.

He knew exactly where her mind went, and he was inclined to indulge in whatever she wanted. Azriel planted a kiss on her cheek before turning back to the stove to take over for her.

Elain made her way over to the fridge as their family settled into the barstools, noting how both Cash and Rhys avoided touching the top of the counter. “Wine okay for you lot? Red or white?”

“Works for me,” Cash answered. “Red, please.”

Feyre and Rhys echoed his choice.

“Nesta?” she asked, opening the door of the fridge to pull a bottle out.

“None for me,” her elder sister stated.

Both she and Azriel whipped around to look at Nesta. Rhys and Feyre were also gapping at her non-choice of drink. Her elder sister was a wine enthusiast at heart. She never turned down a glass—or bottle for that matter.

She was at Cash’s side, his arm slung around her waist. But it was the glowing smile on her face that gave away her truth.

“You’re pregnant,” Elain blurted, shoving the refrigerator door shut.

Cassian tugged his wife closer, kissing her shoulder.

Nesta nodded, a small smile tugging on her lips. “Yes, we are.”

Both she and Feyre squealed, rushing to pull their oldest sister into a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, I’m so happy!”

Azriel came around the counter to clap Cassian on the back. “Congratulations, brother. Happy for you both.” He turned towards his sister-in-law and hugged her as well.

“How far along are you?” she asked, hand running down Nesta’s very small baby bump.

Cash’s smile was infectious. “Three months.”

“Three months!” Feyre shouted. “You’ve been pregnant for three months and you haven’t told us?”

Her elder sister chuckled. “We wanted to make sure it stuck. It’s normal to wait to tell people for the first couple of months.”

In case she miscarried is what she didn’t have to say. “I think we’re all just so excited to have a little niece or nephew in six short months,” Elain said.

Azriel’s hand landed on her lower back, thumb brushing her spine. “Well, dinner is ready. Have you had any issues with morning sickness or anything we should be made aware of that might set you off?”

Cassian gaped at his brother’s words.

“No, I’m fine. Nothing serious has hit me yet, so I guess I’m lucky. I did ask the doctor about it yesterday at our appointment and she told me to just thank whatever gods I believe in because it’s not common to have little nausea.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Az said, nudging her to finish pouring wine for the others. “Dinner is served.”

They all fell into easy chatter during their meal. It felt like old times when they would spend their Sunday nights eating and complaining about school the following day. Elain couldn’t help but notice how both her sister and her husband would constantly touch her stomach—Nesta’s hand laying on top or Cassian wrapping an arm around her waist and splaying his palm over it protectively. It was undeniably adorable even if it made her heart twinge a bit. She was just a few short months from her twenty-ninth birthday and although she loved her career and the life she had, Elain couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.

She and Azriel hadn’t spoken about having kids yet—frankly, she wasn’t even sure he wanted kids given the childhood he had. It made her a bit nervous about bringing it up. So, she didn’t, letting herself just enjoy the life he had given her. Instead, she smiled happily at her sister and Cash, and let the eagerness of having a niece or nephew sweep away any thoughts about having children of her own.

“Elain, how’s the hospital? Any interesting cases recently?” Cassian asked her, drawing her from her reverie.

A smirk turned up on her lips. “Actually, yes. I have quite the story for you.” She launched into her little anecdote, feeling Azriel’s hand on her thigh as he listened intently to her.

“Viviane called me down for a surgical consult in the emergency room. She had this conniving, little smirk on her face as she handed me an iPad with the patient’s records on it and said and I quote, ‘your surgical consult is in room 1A and he is vibrating with excitement to meet you.’ Now, that should’ve been my first clue that this was her being a little shit.

“My second mistake was not fully reading the patient’s charts before I walked into his room. I opened the door and started to introduce myself when I was greeted by a prominent, male moan.”

Azriel gave her a look. “You what now?”

She patted his hand. “Exactly what I said. This dude shoved a vibrator up his butt and it got stuck in there while it was on.”

Cassian spat wine across the table, laughing hysterically. “You’re fucking lying.”

“Goddammit, Cash,” Azriel grumbled, pouncing on the mess with his napkin.

Elain shook her head. “I wish I was. He was young, barely twenty-one, and likely had a partner who just dropped him off at the hospital when they couldn’t get it out.”

“So, what happened?” Feyre asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, I assessed him for surgery, which he didn’t need. Viv knew this and just wanted me to experience the whole ordeal. She’s on my shit list.” The others laughed, listening with rapt attention. “It was too far in to try and pull out with it on. And, unfortunately, the off button wasn’t in a location we could reach.”

Azriel looked slightly horrified. “So, he had to just lay there with it on? Constantly being stimulated and—” he cut himself off, but she finished for him.  

“He continuously orgasmed for seven solid hours until the battery died.” Everyone shuddered at the table. The idea of seven hours of rolling orgasms sounded utterly torturous. “I hooked him up to an IV of fluids and gave him some meds to help numb him back there so the orgasms were less intense, but getting in there while he was experiencing that just wasn’t going to work.”

“Did you…?”

She shook her head. “Not a surgical procedure. But I made sure to have Viv in there for that piece of it.”

“Note to self,” Cassian started, “don’t put anything in one’s ass.”

“At least anything that isn’t attached to the rest of somebody’s body,” Elain amended.

Azriel choked into his drink, eyes going dark at the subtle innuendo. There was a devilish look in his slight smile that he shot her.

Dutifully ignoring the heated look Az was giving her, their family moved into the living area for the remainder of the evening. It was when Nesta was practically falling asleep on Cassian’s shoulder that everyone decided to call it a night.

“Are you sleeping okay?” Elain asked her sister as they walked towards the elevator.

“Yes and no. I’ll wake up sometimes because my hips will start to ache. But I’m tired all day long—fuck I miss caffeine,” she laughed softly. “I’ve never needed naps in my life until now.”

Cassian’s face lit up at his wife’s words. “Naps are the best.”

“You’re not the one growing the baby.”

He flashed a roguish grin. “But I put it in there. And if that means I get to spend more time cuddling you, then I’ll do it over and over again.”

Nesta’s face paled. “Okay, cowboy. Let’s just calm down and do it one at a time.”

Feyre was hiding her giggle behind her palm.

Cash kissed her cheek as the doors pinged open. “Thanks for having us,” Rhys said, clapping Az on the back.

Azriel’s arm slid around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. “Anytime. And congratulations to you both again.” The door had barely slid shut on their sibling’s smiling face when he pounced. “So,” he began, kissing her neck, “the table, the counter, my office…”

Elain laughed huskily, melting into his kisses, and tilted her head to give him better access to her throat. Her hands slid to his strong shoulders. “I also said the stairs.”

He growled, the sound sending shivers wracking through her body.

“The washing machine?” she questioned, tipping her head in the other direction to urge him to move on to her other side. Her hands threaded through his dark locks, tugging and earning a deep, throaty groan.

“The vibrations of the machine when you’re sitting on it,” he purred as an answer.

Her body tightened at the implication. “Which one tonight?” she dared to ask as his hands moved to the backs of her thighs.

He hoisted her into the air like she weighed nothing, which was hard to believe since she was curvier than either of her sisters. “Who said anything about doing one?” Azriel’s mouth found hers and greedily took what he wanted. “I think I’d like to take you on every surface of this penthouse. We’ve already made great progress. So, the question isn’t about which one, but rather which one first?”

Elain moaned at his words, legs tightening around his trim waist. “Table,” she choked out.

Az pulled back to look at her face, his grin a slash of white. “Excellent. I’m starving.” He carried her over to the table and set her down on the edge, then spread her thighs open with his scarred palms so he could slot himself between her legs. Devouring her mouth, his fingers tugged on the sweater dress she was wearing, shucking it off her body and leaving her in her undergarments and thigh-high socks—having ditched her shoes earlier in the evening.

He traced her skin to the bra clasp on her back. Freeing her breasts, Azriel wasted no time in sucking a pert nipple between his lips.

Elain’s body arched into him, heat pooling between her thighs. Her skin grew hot all over as his mouth moved onto her other breast.

Grabbing her hips, he tugged her until she was firmly pressed into his hardening crotch.

She whined, grinding herself into him as best as she could with her ass barely on the edge of the table.

Kissing his way down her body, he planted soft kisses on her clothed pussy. “Already so wet for me, love.”

“Why don’t you show me what that wicked tongue can really do,” she huffed, growing impatient from the unbearable ache.

Hooking his fingers into the lace band, he tore her panties off her hips and tossed them on the floor behind him.

It felt positively filthy to be sitting naked, soaking wet on their dining room table, but Elain was beyond sanitary thoughts at this point. She just needed relief, whether by his mouth, his fingers, or his cock. “Azriel, please,” she begged.

“You beg so prettily, baby. Lie down,” he ordered, placing a hand on her shoulder and pushing her into a reclining position.

She yelped as she back lay on the cold table surface. Lifting her head, she watched as Azriel hooked an ankle around one of the chairs and pulled it to him so he could sit down at the table. Elain let out a wanton moan at the sight of him sitting there ready to feast on her like she was his own personal meal, her legs hooked over his shoulders as his arms banded around her thighs, locking her in place.

His nose nuzzled into the junction of her hip, hot breath ghosting over her drenched slit.

At the first swipe of his tongue, Elain’s back arched as she cried out in ecstasy. Azriel gave her no mercy. Sucking her clit into his mouth, he flicked it with his tongue before lapping down at her entrance.

Her fingers dug into his hair, gripping it for dear life and using it as a tether to anchor herself to him. She desperately wanted to grind herself into his face, but his grip on her held firm, holding her steady to the table.

The sounds he made were completely indecent, but she didn’t care. Not as she propelled closer and closer to that edge.

“Azriel. I’m gonna—”

The graze of his teeth on her clit sent her spiraling into her orgasm.

She screamed as pleasure swept over her body, back coming off the table but hips still pinned down by Az’s strength.

He kept sucking, kept drawing out her orgasm until she was a limp mess, legs sagging on his shoulders.

Elain’s breath came out in steady pants, eyes closed as she tried to regain herself in her body.

“Look at the mess you made of me,” Azriel purred from between her legs.

Lust-filled eyes peeked open to look at him, her release dripping off his chin. It was positively sinful and made heat rush back to her core. “You look depraved.”

He chuckled as he kissed the inside of her thigh, sinking his teeth in her tender flesh to mark her.

Softly crying out, Elain’s leg twitched at the sensation of his mouth.

“I am depraved when it comes to you, baby,” he told her as he pulled his shirt over his head.

She watched him strip, revealing more of his glorious muscles and tanned skin to her. Her heart sped up in her chest as he looked down at her like she was his prey. Her thighs dampened even more when he leaned forward to kiss her, rubbing his cock against her pussy. “Wait,” she panted, placing a hand on his chest.

Azriel froze immediately.

“Let me up.”

He did, helping her sit up and slide off the table.

Before he could even ask if she was okay, Elain turned, took a deep breath, and bent over the table.

“El…sweetheart. What are you doing?” he asked her, voice cautious.

She looked at him from over her shoulder, hair sliding across her back. “I want to try this.”

He placed his warm palm on her hip, thumb stroking her skin. “Are you sure, Elain? I know the kind of position this puts you in and I don’t want to be the cause of you reliving any of your past.”

Standing upright, she turned to face him fully. The concern on his face made her heart leap into her throat. She reached up to cup his cheek. “I know, Az. I want to do this, to try this with you. I want you to replace those bad memories with good ones. Happy ones. Please, at least try it.”

“I will always try things with you, love. Just promise me that the moment you feel any discomfort, or anything at all, you’ll tell me.”

She smiled softly. “I promise.”

He leaned down to kiss her before gently twisting her back towards the table. “Lie down.” His steady hand pressed on her upper back, carefully pushing her towards the tabletop.

Elain followed his direction, lying back down on the cool surface. Her hands splayed out, fingertips digging in.

A scarred palm ran over the curve of her behind. “You look so fucking gorgeous standing like this,” he murmured, lips running down her spine. Kneeling, Az placed a teasing kiss on her pussy.

She whined, hips undulating towards his mouth. “Please, Az.”

Rising, he nudged her entrance with the head of his cock, splitting her open. “Spread your legs for me.”

She did.

“Wider.”

Elain split her legs open as far as she could while still maintaining her height, giving him the room to roll his hips into her.

Azriel leaned over her, nibbling on the junction of her neck while his one hand reached out and laced their fingers over the backside of her hand. He gripped her shoulder to provide some leverage and slowly rolled his hips into her, pushing himself inside of her.

Her head bowed, fingers tightening on his. She moaned as he filled her, and filled her, and filled her with his cock, taking more of it with each thrust of his hips.

“You feel so damn good, El,” Azriel groaned into the soft skin of her neck. “So fucking tight.” He peppered kisses over her shoulder after bottoming out, letting her get adjusted to his size and giving her time to feel comfortable with the position.

Elain rose on her tiptoes, settling her hips up onto the tabletop. “Az, please. I need you to move.”

Giving her one last chaste kiss on her neck, Azriel began to really snap his hips into hers, fucking her how she wanted him, needed him to.

With each pass of his cock, he hit that delicious spot deep inside her that had stars dancing in her vision. “Oh gods,” she cried out, eyes closing at the pleasure radiating up her spine. “Don’t stop.” Elain’s hand moved on its own accord, grabbing the hand on her shoulder and sliding it to the back of her neck.

Azriel’s hips stalled. “Love, are you sure?” The worry in his voice fractured her heart into millions of little pieces.

“Yes, Az. Please, please.”

Scarred fingers dug into the back of her neck as he picked up his pace. “My gorgeous baby is such a good girl for me. Letting me fuck her on our table. Give me your pleasure, love. I want you to come for me. Now.”

Elain cried out, shattering around his cock. Her legs shook as her orgasm swept over her. Sweet release and relief.

Working her through it, Azriel thrust hard and fast, chasing his own pleasure until he came balls deep inside of her.

She pulsed around him, collapsing completely onto the table as she tried to catch her breath.

But he had different ideas, tugging her off the table and dropping them into the chair behind him, still buried to the hilt.

She reclined against him, panting hard as she fought to catch her breath.

Azriel’s palms ran over her body, stroking it to soothe her and bring her down from her high. He planted sweet, soft kisses on her neck and across the top of her shoulder.

Elain loved this almost as much as she loved the sex—the aftercare he provided her was so attentive, loving, and exactly what she needed, especially when they got rough during their escapades.

“Are you doing okay?” he murmured into her skin, securing her tighter into his chest.

A delicate smile turned up the corners of her lips. “Very much so,” she told him. Affectionate, post-sex Azriel always made her fall in love with him even more. “Thank you, for that. For doing that with me.”

His thumbs stroked over her ribcage. “I will always do whatever you want me to, Elain. You know that.”

She twisted her head to kiss his jaw. “I know. But I also know the position it put you in for potentially triggering something with me. And I appreciate you always taking those extra steps to ensure I’m certain with anything new we try.” Elain reached up to cup his cheek. “I don’t want to let what he did limit us. And I felt ready to finally break down that last barrier.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, feeling the emotional toll from finally leaping over that last hurdle with him. “I trust and I love you, Azriel, so damn much.”

He swooped in and stole another hungry kiss, his tongue prying open her lips to tangle with hers. “I love you too, El. More than you’d ever believe,” he breathed against her mouth like he was baring his soul to her.

The mood shifted then, turning slower. Sweeter. Their touches went from desperate to gentle. The need was still there, but it was a different kind of need. So, Azriel carried Elain up to their bed where he made love to her under the moonlight in their bedroom over and over again until sleep claimed them.

~~~~~

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[nrdmssgs]

😿Please-please dont leave Riot sad and desperate. I want a happy ending please. 😿

Ok, here's happy mischievous Riot for you, love!

Part 1 Masterlist Fluff

Summary: Christine 'Riot' Vega (belongs to @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot) has a little vacation and Nikolai and Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova show her St. Petersburg.

"Nik, for God’s sake, let go of the poor thing! Get yourself a child and pack them in a thousand layers of clothes!" Olga sighs impatiently, propping her back against the front door.

"I'm not torturing her - just making sure, my little ray of sunshine doesn't catch cold." Nikolai and Christine grin at each other, while he wraps a scarf around her, so that it covers half of her face. "Besides, sokrovishe moye*, you want me to switch to 'getting a kid' routine right now or you're willing to wait till the evening?"

If a gaze could burn through flesh - Nik would already be on fire. It seemed, that every TF Lieutenant, even a former one, got their very own signature death stare. But the overall mood in the room was still jolly, and Christines happy laughter was the best acknowledgement to it.

She was smiling widely ever since Olga calmed her down, Nikolai came back from a meeting and promised Riot, that he'll make his second in command take a day off and spend it with them. Even on the next morning, she looked like a little lantern, lighting up the surrounding space.

On their way to café, Riot planned and executed a full 'drop your friends into a snow pile' operation.

"Captain should have seen this - I could get a raise!" She laughed, while Olga fought her way back on the solid ground and Nikolai held her firmly, not letting her away.

"Stop fighting, feisty thing. Just relax and I'll lift you myself." Nikolai whispered, pressing Zhar closer and ignoring her fruitless attempts to escape.

"You rascal. A scoundrel. Bribed my friend to do that, didn't you?" Every Olgas next phrase was interrupted by a kiss until she gave up and kissed him back.

Riots grin radiated from under the scarf, when Nikolai lifted Zhar and finally let her go.

***

"You two look, like you're planning some world-class heist!" Christine checked, how her friends came out on a photo she took.

"I look like an absolute sweetheart," Nikolai leaned closer to Riot and took a peak at her smartphone "It's my love, who looks like a predator on a hunt every time, she reads the dessert card."

"Christine, how much would you miss this man if-"

"If you two went on a date this evening? I won't miss him at all. Nik? No, never heard of him. Won't miss this lucky bastard at all."

Olga raised her eyes to her friend and sighed. "I was going to ask your permission to strangle Nikolai alive, but... ok, date it is, I guess."

Nik tried to make some commentary about holding the strangling part till they are back home, but Zhars fingers clasped to his shoulder so strong - they became white.

"Ok-ok, before you kill the poor guy - tell me one thing!" Christine smiled enigmatically and tilted her head slightly. "There's one detail about you, nobody from the TF could describe to me. That being, how come you never talked to each other for years of working together before that notorious operation?"

Olga looked lost, as if she tried to form an answer, but couldn't find the right words. Nikolai on the contrary was relaxed and happy and went back to hugging her.

"Well, we actually talked. Twice even. It just never went that well." Zhar broke the silence.

"Whoa, you made jokes about each other? Or shared some memories from Russia? Or straight started a fight?" Riot had so many scenarios in her head, it was a pity, none of them were close to reality.

"No, I. Well, the first one was my bloop, to be honest. But she got me scared!" It was funny to hear, that anyone could frighten Nikolai, but he went on. "I stumbled upon her in the middle of the night, and she pointed the gun at me, little crazy thing! I was lost, so I... I congratulated her with the Chekist day. It was a first thing, that I remembered!"

"Wait, Chekist as the 'Cheka' soviet secret police?... That controlled the society and executed many innocents? Nik, I love you, but were you out of your mind?"

"He was, Christine." Olga nodded eagerly. "And I didn't point my gun at him - he walked on me in the armory, where I cleaned it! I even have a witness - Ghost was there!"

"Oh yes, I forgot, that I got not one, but two side eyes! Very nice of you, guys! Super-friendly, not intimidating at all!" Nikolai moved closer to Riot just in case.

Zhar squinted her eyes unkindly and took a sip of coffee, letting Nik continue his story.

"The second time was purely her fault. I did nothing wrong, I swear!" Nikolai tried to hide behind Riots shoulders, but it wasn't that easy, considering, how much taller he was, even when seated.

"My fault?!" Zhar made another sip and closed her eyes for a moment. "My best friend came back from the mission, we all went to the pub, where this happy face already was..." She glanced at Nikolai. "There, I learn, that Nik dropped my Kyle out of his copter! My friend could have died. It was only natural-"

"It was only natural for you to wait till I go out, pin me to the wall and threaten me?" Nikolai still tried to hide behind Riots chair.

"I explained, what will happen to you, if it ever happens again. And don't play on Christine's nerves as if you are not a full head taller than me. You could push me away at any moment."

"Na-a-a-ah, I bet somebody just got horny and froze to remember every single moment." Riot chuckled, looking back at Nik.

"Horny? Solnushko*, I got terrified! She reeked of beer - this little trouble could have done anything and I couldn't fight back!" Nikolai pouted.

"Just for the record: I reeked of beer because MacTavish couldn't keep his hands still, and his glass of beer ended up on my jeans."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't check, how wet your pants were every time we had an encounter. How ungentlemanly of me. The next time you decide to pin-"

"The next time, I'm taking a bloody rope. And a gag..." Olga stood up and disappeared into the depths of the café.

Riot bent and was now suffocating of laughter. Nikolai patted her back softly.

"There's no way, I can make you not tell this story to others, isn't it?" he asked, half predicting her answer.

Riot couldn't master a single word, so she just shook her head.

"Well, at least, looks like I'll have the best date ever thanks to you." He took the menu. "Now, how about we pick you something sweet? This chocolate Ferrero cake looks nice, mm?"

sokrovishe moye - my treasure

Solnushko - sunshine

[thebardisabird]

Oho...

I do love bringing Osomatsu the drama. I got something for you, Anonym. A little Osomatsu x Reader and a very costly Freudian slip, under the cut!

Fresh out of the pachinko parlor, you were ecstatic about your earnings for the evening. So ecstatic that your partner in crime and eldest of your sextuplet friends, Osomatsu, managed to convince you to buy him some drinks and sushi. Being that you were riding the high of your luck, you agreed. He partook in his favorite beer, and you instead opted to have some tea with your dinner. That didn’t stop your pleasant conversation however, the two of you carrying on between pieces of sashimi and a sizable amount of appetizers. It was always this easy with Osomatsu. Sure he was a NEET and maybe society frowned upon him for that - but not you. To you he brought carefree attitudes and laughter. He reminded you not to sweat the small stuff in life and even though he was a bit of a blockhead, he was dependable where it mattered most. A guy who knew how to knock back a beer and make you forget the way the world turned, that was your Osomatsu. 

“So I told Choromatsu not to worry about it right, cause it was just a shock and he should totally dye his hair again” Osomatsu snickers, picking up a shumai dumpling, “Tell me why he actually listened to me - and he the next day he comes back BLONDE!” “NOOO” your stunned groan turning into laughter, “Osomatsu, you scoundrel, why would you tell him that?!”

The man shrugs and pops the dumpling into his mouth, “Lishen, if we didn wana do it - he wouldn ave,” and he swallowed down his bite with a swig of his beer, “I didn’t make him do it.” You rolled your eyes at that knowing full well that he absolutely used his eldest brother influence to goad Choromatsu into changing his hair again. Still, you couldn’t help but laugh, Osomatsu always had a good story to tell. The night went on as such, the two of you exchanging stories and laughs the way close friends tended to. With the tab paid and you two satiated, you sauntered off in what you both assumed was the direction of home. By now you were too engrossed in each other's company to really pay close attention to exactly where you were going. At some point you threw your hands behind your head and stretched, “Man…I hate having to be a responsible adult. It’s always work hours this, and pay bills that.” Osomatsu laughed at your whining, “Sucks to suck, doesn't it? Could always try the NEET life like me!” You eyed him with an absurd accusatory look, “And look what does to the people around you,” your finger poked into his cheek now, “Need I remind you who paid your tab tonight, mister.” Osomatsu gave you a dramatic twirl, his hand clutching his chest dramatically, “Ugh! Your words wound me, woman! Maybe I really am the worst man in Akatsuka after all!” His Shakespearean act had you almost feel like you were in the presence of his younger brother, but you simply gave him a hearty laugh with your hand playfully pushing at his chest, “Shut up you big dummy, you know I love you.” … It took a moment for your words to register. That word. You’d never said that word with him before. You two had always been so close. Hell, you were close with all of the brothers…but you’ve never…used that word with any of them before. You snatched back your hand, fingers curling into your chest. The weight of your words hanging over you both like a storm cloud. Did you ruin things just now? Would he be freaked out by you? What have you done? Embarrassment crept its way into your skin, flushing your whole body. “Osomatsu, I–mmph!” the bargaining plea that started at your lips was silenced by his own. His own hands circled around your wrists, pulling you to him. He unfurled your limbs from your body, making you wrap your arms around his neck as he slid his tongue into your mouth. Any form of protest simply ceased to be with your lips locked like this. It hit you when you shuddered, Osomatsu was kissing you. Your friend of so many years. Your confidant, your drinking buddy, the shittiest person to ever live and yet he was always by your side when you needed him…was kissing you. Not some peck on the cheek. Nowhere near a chaste kiss. This was passionate. The way he groaned into your mouth. The grip his hands had at your back, nervous but steady all the same. “Osomatsu…” you whined against his lips. Your fingers wove into his chestnut locks, and you would not stop yourself from pressing closer into him as you initiated another kiss. Yes. It all made sense now. It was always him, wasn’t it? His breath fanned over your lips when you parted. Neither of you could open your eyes, the mutual feeling of ‘Is this real?’ plaguing your thoughts. A deep inhale sounded in front of you. Osomatsu rested his forehead to yours, “I…have loved you...for a long fucking time now,” he swallowed abruptly, thick and dry, “And I could never bring myself to say it…because I always thought you would never be with someone like me.” It was his turn to tangle fingers in hair, his palms cupping your face as though he was holding the universe. He spoke your name like it would be his dying word, “...but I love you. With everything I’ve got.” There was a crushing heaviness in your chest at his substantial words. But when he kissed you once more, the weight lifted - ripped from you with the carefree abandon that was Osomatsu Matsuno. You loved him all the same. It was clear as day to you now. He always made it so easy.