#I love the raw anger this brings out so much

[insane-weasel]

I do love Purgatory so much. I support everyone's rights and wrongs. I love how unfair it is.

I just love it turned the cozy, friendly interactions that seemed unbreakable, the unwavering trust into a Lord of the Flies, insanely hostile mood. I am 14 again watching Mianite and it is delightful.

I missed that toxic energy. I missed extreme miss communication and in-group bias. It even has 3 sides like Mianite. Don't get me wrong, I love normal QSMP, but the 13-14yo boy still in me is just over-the-moon enjoying seeing people at their bloodthirstiest. Th

[caramel-ribbons]

I just watched Avatar for the first time all the way through, and yeah, it’s great, but the one thing that surprised me was how different Katara was compared to the fandom interpretation I’d seen and internalized before watching.

Like, before you watch Avatar, you’ve seen all these memes about Katara and her mom, and based on those memes, you assume it’s one of those lines you have to get used to hearing at least once every episode. But then you watch the show and realize that she only talks about her mom maybe five or six times per season and you also realize she only brings her up when she’s trying to comfort someone or empathize with them because that’s how she processes her grief and that’s one way she connects with people.

Or you hear the infamous line, “then you didn’t love [our mother] the way I did” and you prepare yourself for one of the worst character assassinations ever only to see the scene after nearly three seasons worth of context and realize she was kinda right. She’s been the mother, the nurturer, the comforter. She’s been patient, gentle, and accommodating where everyone else has gotten to be insensible and reckless and childish, and the one moment where she allows herself to feel her grief, suddenly she’s this evil bitch and not, y’know, a 14 year old girl whose been thrusted into adulthood in a way no other character has. A 14 year old girl who should be allowed immaturity and raw emotion and anger instead of the patience and grace she’s been forced to extend to every character without even the smallest amount of gratitude or even consideration in return.

Or you see all of the clips where Katara puts Aang in the “friendzone” and you expect to have this wishy washy back and forth where Aang is putting his feelings out there only to have Katara neither commit nor express any clear reciprocation or rejection. Then you watch and realize that, as cute as the ship is initially, that there’s never a point where Aang returns any comfort or grace to Katara despite her always doing this for him to the point of coddling. That for as much as Aang says he loves her, he never seems to outgrow his perception of her so he can recognize her as someone who feels grief, anger, and pain as much as she expresses love, kindness, and maturity. And instead of having moments where he learns to see her beyond her strength or compassion, you’re instead given moments where Aang forces his feelings onto her, both romantic and non-romantic, and Katara is expected to just…shoulder those feelings the way she shoulders everyone else’s.

Katara is the most misunderstood character in the show. As much as people recognize the complexities of Zuko, Sokka, and Azula, they struggle to do the same for Katara because they see her struggles as somehow lesser, and therefore, less deserving of sympathy. They can handle her so long as she’s being endlessly patient and loving and kind, but the moment her endless love, patience, and kindness runs out, she’s suddenly this annoying bitch who can’t shut up about her mother or reciprocate Aang’s feelings. But Katara’s trauma does matter as much as anyone else’s. No, she wasn’t banished from her kingdom. No, she didn’t lose her entire community, and no, she isn’t the only one who lost her mother. But the difference between her and everyone else whose experienced loss because of the Fire Nation is that she’s never given time to process her trauma. Aang gets to lean on Katara constantly. Toph gets to express her feelings to Katara, and yeah, Sokka also lost their mother, but unlike Katara, he isn’t put in the position of being a substitute for everyone’s parent. He even admits that he sees his sister as a mother. The only characters who ever comfort Katara or allow her to vent is Zuko and her father and that’s, like, three scenes in a show where the other characters are consistently given opportunities to seek out Katara for unconditional support.

The fandom interpretation of Katara has been so bastardized that even those who haven’t watched the show know her for this fanon version and not for who she is. She’s such an interesting character beyond her fandom limitations, though. She’s brave, hot-headed, and hopeful as well as gentle and caring. She wishes to learn waterbending, not only because she wants to fight in the war, but because she wants to continue her culture’s practices because, and people often forget this, she also lost an entire subculture within her already fractured tribe. And she wants to defeat the Fire Nation both because of her deep love and empathy for other people, but also because she wants to avenge her mother. But because some of the fans have reduced Katara to a bitch who constantly whines about her mother and friendzones Aang, you wouldn’t know any of this, and it sucks because she’s the only character whose been dumbed down to such an extent.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Ghost, Simon & You [SMUT]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Stomach Bulging, Possessive! Ghost, Kinda Evil! Ghost, Simon and Ghost are Separate People in the Same Body, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Backed up! Simon who uses you as his personal cum dump whenever he returns from deployment. You know you’re in for an absolute pounding when you hear him banging on your front door, only to see him standing there, tall and dark as a shadow, looking down at you with an almost manic gaze.

He hasn't even been home to change first, still clad in his balaclava, eye paint and the under-layers of his tactical attire. He pushes his way in, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot and pressing his lips to yours. It doesn’t matter that you can’t feel his skin, that he’s almost crushing your skull as he grips your cheeks and brings you as close as physically possible, that you can taste gunpowder, dust and death on his mask. That this isn’t Simon at all, but the unholy spirit that possesses him. 

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.

It also doesn’t matter that he literally tears your shirt from your body, a rumble reverberating through his chest when he sees you without underwear. You were expecting him. Good.

Simon – Ghost – is never gentle when it comes to the first round. He never strips all the way down, either, always leaving his mask on, too. He just yanks his pants down as far as necessary before pressing the hard, aching, weeping tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in with neither care, nor restraint.

He sees the way you fist the sheets, face down against the mattress but your cries still managing to reach him. He just doesn’t care. Especially when your familiar warmth encompasses him, pulls him into the here and now.

It’s at this point that Ghost sees why Simon loves being around you so much, loves being with you. In you.

His member protrudes, a bump in your stomach evident like a tombstone. Whenever you try to press it, try to flatten your hand against it to get a feel for just how big it is, he takes your wrists in his hands and presses them against the mattress. The message is clear: you don’t interfere. I’ll cum when I say so, not by your hand.

Ghost doesn’t stop until you’re raw and red and leaking with either his or your juices, a ring of white forming at the base of his shaft where you can’t fit any more of his length inside you. You feel it, pulsating and battering and alive in your middle, feeling as if it’s nudging everything else out the way so it can lie uninhibited inside your warm cavern.

He’s hard and fast, rough yet thorough. He never leaves an inch of you unmarked, unbruised, by the time he’s done. Whether he’s aware or not, you always end up finishing first, your walls tightening and pulsating around Ghost’s cock as he continues to abuse your hole, hitting your most sensitive point over and over again, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you utterly spent yet satisfied.

When Ghost cums, it’s long, hard and hot. So, so hot – as if the all fire of his anger he’s had building up these last few months is now cradled within you, an unspeakable offspring. He never immediately pulls out. No, he waits, hands about your waist, no doubt bruises from where he’s gripped you, where he’s kept you so he can make sure you don’t crawl away.

His load is thick and there’s so much of it – you feel like you’re being filled past full.

If you’re capable and fertile, he often considers not giving you birth control after the fact, rather letting you stay dormant in bed and tying you up so you have no choice but to let his seed take. The idea never fails to send a shiver down his spine, making him hard all over again as the image of you, bedbound and incapacitated by his hand is enough to make him retreat to another room just so he doesn’t act on the fantasy. 

The look on Simon’s face, he often wonders, when he finds you’re marked as Ghost’s, carrying a permanent reminder that he got to you first; when he realises that the creature he entrusts his dirty work to, his militant alter ego, has utterly ravaged and claimed you from the inside out.

The horror. The futility of apology. It’s enough to satiate Ghost for now. Enough, enough.

And with that, he pulls out, taking the blazing heat of his body with him. He leaves you on the bed, ass up, face down, with his cum dripping out of you. Leaves you for Simon to clean up, to deal with. 

And to your side does Simon come rushing, for once Ghost removes his mask, so does he the haze he casts over his unwilling creator, letting him return to humanity. The vague pulsing of his member, the wetness coating it and the sheen of sweat clinging to Simon’s body is enough to let him know – remind him – what’s happened.

He comes to your aid, scooping you up in his arms and tending to you in every way he knows how - in every way that’s routine. He apologises, over and over, for letting Ghost do this you, for letting him have his way with you, for not being able to protect you–

You shush him. Look at him with kind eyes. You tell him you’re happy to do it, that you’d rather it be you than anyone else, that you wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t love Simon. Which you do. Monumentally. And Simon loves you, too. He just fears that Ghost may be growing to love you, too – in ways he shouldn’t. 

He feels him now, watching you bathe, sweeping over the bruises on your wrists, your hips and waist, the pressure in the back of his head mounting as Ghost lusts for the control to do it all again.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[dollaches]

— once my flame & twice my burn

♡ mean!professor!ellie williams x fem!student!reader

synopsis: after ellie humiliates you in front of the whole classroom, she desperately tries to find a way to make it up to you before she loses you completely

a/n: this got way out of hand … wrote in like 45 mins idk it sucks im sorry

warnings: DON’T LIKE DON’T READ!!! — sorta angsty at the beginning, mean ellie, professor x student relationship, reader is in COLLEGE!!!, concerning power dynamics lowkey, dom!ellie, sub!reader, manipulation, crying, makeup sex, unhealthy relationships, degrading, pet names (pup used a lot, take it up with god), established relationship, kissing, strap usage, strap referred to as cock lol, fingering (r! receiving), begging, ruined orgasm, sex on the FLOOR!, not proofread at all, do NOT date ur professor ong

wc: 4.4k

The sound of rain pattering against the classroom window has managed to keep you in a dazed state, your tired eyes focused on the way Ellie’s hands moved as she lectured. The sound of her voice felt so far away but just having her near was enough to bring you solace. 

It was as if you had been operating manually ever since school began, beaten down by all the assignments that were piling up and losing countless hours of sleep in favor of working away on your laptop. Even if you were dating a professor, it was not as if you received any special treatment, as Ellie continuously told you if the school board were to hear about your relationship, both of you could end up in trouble. 

So you kept things private, only giving her shy smiles and allowing your hand to brush against hers as you turn in an assignment. In the privacy of her home, you were all hers. It was hard to keep up such a lie but it was all worth it just to have her, even if no one knew. 

But with the stress of school along with having very little attention from your girlfriend due to her being caught up with grading assignments every night, it began to feel like there was a weight on your chest. You ached for some sort of public affection from her, needing confirmation of her love when you are struggling so much. Even now, she was looking anywhere but in your direction as she spoke, her glasses slightly sliding down her nose as she spoke passionately. 

It felt like a silent rejection and even if you knew you were being irrational, it still hurt you. You finally looked away from her, staring out the window and letting your eyes flutter shut so you could take a few deep breaths. Your peaceful state was quickly interrupted, a loud call of your name making your eyes snap back open as you look towards the front of the room. 

“I do not tolerate sleeping in my classroom. If you are tired, stay home instead of wasting my time” Ellie snapped, eyes narrowing as they focused on you. You knew Ellie had been just as stressed as you were but you were in complete disbelief that she would take it out on you in front of the classroom. You can’t even offer a proper reply, your eyes staring down at your lap as they begin to grow glassy. Your throat constricts and you pray the people sitting next to you don’t notice the way you are practically gasping for air. 

There was no need to be so cruel, as she knew that you were under just as much stress as she was but she had nowhere else to place her anger. The sight of you hiding your face from her and not even standing up for yourself shoves her back into reality and guilt eats away at her core, leaving her raw and full of fear of her own fuck up. She quickly clears her throat, continuing her lecture but stealing a few glances at you whenever she has the chance. You refused to even look up anymore, shame burning within you. 

You didn’t even notice when Ellie began to stutter, her nerves apparent as she tried to shove down the worry she felt, at least until she could speak to you after class. The clock continued to tick, the world uncaring that you were nearly in the midst of a complete breakdown. You are only brought out of your daze by the sound of people nearby beginning to pack their things up, a sign that class was over. In a feverish manner, you begin to place your belongings in your bag. 

All you know is that you need to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible, silently thanking God that this was your last class of the day. Ellie tried to see you in the crowd of students that were pushing out the door, calling out your name once more so she could have you stay after class to talk, it would give her the chance to apologize before the two of you got back home for the night. 

However, you ignore her completely, not wanting to be a victim of her anger any longer. You rush out of the building as quickly as possible, leaving Ellie to scramble to get her belongings together so she could follow after you. It was no use, as you were long gone, shivering as rain landed on your skin before you reached your car. 

The minute you were in the safety of your car, you let out a quiet sob, still unable to recover from earlier. On top of that, you had so many assignments to get done tonight that you could already feel the way your wrists would be aching by the time you were done. You allow the tears to cascade down your cheeks, your lip quivering even as you begin to drive. No music is played, the need for silence after what you experienced felt completely necessary. 

You simply couldn’t wrap your head around how Ellie could be so careless, the woman you love suddenly seeming to turn on you. It was pre decided that you wouldn’t be going to her house for once, driving towards your home the best you can while tears blur your vision. You couldn’t care less about the constant ringing of your phone, your lips seemingly set in a permanent frown as you park your car. 

After grabbing your bag, you fumble with your keys until you manage to unlock the door and walk into the safety of your home. You had been spending so much time in Ellie’s home that the space now felt cold and unwelcoming, all the lights being off with no signs of life. You flick on a switch, sniffling a few times as you set your belongings down on the table. You reach for your phone, the screen being far too bright for your dimly lit environment. 

You can at least see that Ellie has managed to call you twenty-two times, sending a few messages asking where you were. Unbeknownst to you, Ellie had arrived at her own home, expecting to find you there. Much to her dismay, she was left to panic in the wake of your absence, her hands shaking as she held her phone to her ear. Every time her call went to voicemail she cursed, running a hand through her messy hair. She couldn’t lose you, not now, not ever. 

When her phone pinged, she picked it up so fast she nearly dropped the device onto the floor. As her eyes adjusted, she could recognize your contact name beside a simple message that read “At home. Please stop calling”. The words are enough to make her heart drop into her stomach, as you had never once refused to see her after a fight. It felt different this time, like you were creating walls to keep her out and she felt fucking terrified. 

♡ 

You had settled onto the couch, mindlessly watching television to keep your mind off Ellie even if it was just for a bit. The nerves within your body began to subside, your breathing evening out as you leaned back a bit. You figured that this was the calm after the storm and you might as well enjoy it before it passes you by. 

The sound of someone knocking on your door makes you flinch, turning to face the direction of the front entrance. Your brows furrowed as you realized who it might be, swiftly tuning to face the tv once more just to shut her out. Ellie could feel her heart pounding against her chest, trying to get you to open the door. “Babe? Can we please talk, just for a second” she pleads, knocking harshly enough to make her knuckles ache. With no response from you, she grows desperate, bringing out the water works. 

“Please, I need to see your face, need to tell you how sorry I am” she states, her voice cracking as tears begin to well within her eyes as she purposely uses the saddest voice possible. “It’s so cold out here, angel, please let me inside” she whimpers as if she were a kicked puppy, although this situation was completely her fault. 

You know that the last thing you should do is welcome her into your home but she sounds so lost, so frightened of what she has done. Even if you were mad at her at this moment, she knew just how to get inside your head and ease you back into her arms. Ellie is just about to knock for a third time when she hears the click of the door unlocking right before she finally gets to see you. 

Even in your disheveled state, you looked beautiful enough to make her heart ache. She can’t get over how exhausted you look, as if she had taken every last bit of energy you had. “Hey, there you are” she coos in a warm voice, her tears ceasing within an instant. You can’t help but avoid eye contact with her, not wanting to give in so easily. 

“You can come inside for a bit but you’re not staying” you mutter, turning away and leaving the door ajar so she can come inside to escape the cold. Ellie breathes a sigh of relief, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She knows she needs to tread lightly, kneeling down to unlace her shoes and placing them near the front door before she turns to face you. 

You’re curled up in the corner of the couch, not even glancing at her as she inches closer to you. She settles beside you, a small gap between the two of you so that she doesn't scare you off. Ellie plays with her fingers, the only way she can soothe herself in a moment with so much tension. 

Before she can even take a breath in to speak, the sound of your quiet voice cuts her off. “I think maybe this isn’t going to work out” you mutter, your eyes transfixed on the tv. “You have a lot going on and I get that, but I’m not your punching bag, Ellie.”

Your words tear through her like a jagged knife, left to bleed out due to her own inability to control her anger. “No— no, no, no” she breathes, sliding down so she can get on her knees in front of you, forcing you to look at her finally. 

“You don’t mean that, you’re just upset” she says in a broken voice, her warm hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Stop telling me how I feel” you huff, trying to yank away from her touch. Ellie is quick to put a stop to your efforts, her grip tightening so that your cheeks are squished together, your lips all pouty.

You can tell by the look in her eyes that she is not pleased with your rejection, her grip almost harsh enough to hurt. “I am not telling you how to feel. I just know what you really want, what you need.” she says in a tone that feigns pity, a sympathetic smile on her lips. 

You simply narrow your eyes at her, resisting the urge to submit to her completely. She coos at the sight of you, pressing a little kiss to the tip of your nose that makes you huff. “I’m sorry, pup, I really am. But you’re breaking my heart here— makin’ me feel like our relationship is dirty” she sighs, loosening her grip since she knows you won’t back away any longer. 

The pet name causes your mind to go fuzzy, your will slowly weakening. “M’ not saying it’s dirty, you’re just… you’re so mean” you mutter, unsure if she would be set off by your words alone. But she remains calm this time, her grip completely fading as she moves your hair out of your face so she can see you properly. “I know I am, I’m so mean aren’t I, baby?” she hums, being playful so she can get you to relax. 

You nod slowly at her words, already feeling yourself melting into a puddle right in the palm of her hand. “Now, you don’t wanna break up with me, do you?” she asks in a gentle voice, a stark difference from how rough she was being with you earlier. You hesitate for a moment, your eyes scanning her features for any sign of malice and yet you find none. 

After you give a small shake of your head to say no, Ellie finally breathes out. “See? I knew you didn’t mean it” she says in a warm tone, caressing your thighs with her strong hands as she looks at you. 

You just keep quiet, feeling a bit ashamed that you are letting her in so easily, her minuscule apology managing to make you forgive her completely. Ellie can tell your mind is beginning to wander and that is the last thing she wants, so she moves back onto the couch, gently turning your head to face her. 

“My pretty girl” she mutters, her thumb gently running along your plush bottom lip that was still sticky with lip gloss. Your body seems to relax under her touch, welcoming the familiar warmth after such a long day. 

She moves closer, letting her lips linger mere inches from yours as she keeps her gaze fixed on you. “You gonna say sorry for hurting me earlier, angel?” she asks, tilting her head in the slightest as if she were about to kiss you, yet it only served to tease you further. 

“I’m sorry” you manage to whisper, not even truly thinking anything of the words, simply wanting to please Ellie in any way possible. She hums in a pleased manner, finally leaning in to give you what you were so desperately craving. 

Her lips felt a little rough against yours, although her movements start off slow and gentle. She cups your face ever so softly, her tongue only teasing your own. She can feel you leaning into her touch, needing her affection more than anything right now. 

She finally lets you push your tongue past her lips, the sloppy sound of the filthy kiss filling the air around the two of you. There is hunger and desperation behind every move she makes, removing one hand from your cheek in favor of pushing you down until you’re laying on the couch, her lips never once leaving yours. 

The idea of losing you was too much to bear and now that she had you wrapped around her finger, she was going to keep you there. She is purposely being messy, lapping at your lips and tongue so that her saliva connects the two of you, a piece of her invading your body so that she can call you hers. 

You moan as she helps you relax into your new position, her knee slipping between your thighs and perfectly nudging your clit through your jeans. The sensation is enough to make you flinch, not expecting the feeling to be so overwhelming. 

When she finally pulls back, there is a thin string of saliva that connects you to one another, a vulgar sign of your unity. You can’t help but let out a protestant huff when her knee eases up, needing the pressure to keep your mind off the fact that the same woman who humiliated you was now making out with you. 

Ellie on the other hand couldn’t be more ecstatic, a sly grin on her lips when she realizes her glasses are all fogged up. “Stupid fuckin’ thing” she mutters as she pulls them off, throwing them onto the coffee table carelessly before she uses the back of her hand to wipe her lips. 

You are left beneath her, a mess of the strong girl you thought yourself to be earlier. “If you want somethin’, you gotta ask for it” she says firmly, purposely pushing her knee up to get a quick gasp out of you before pulling back once more. 

“Need to feel your tongue or just fuck me, I don’t care. Just give me something please” you beg in a voice that is utterly pathetic, broken down by your own selfish desires. Your pleas are like music to her ears, it’s all that she needs to finally give in to your request. 

“On all fours, take off those clothes or I’ll do it myself” she says in a pointed manner, as if she were giving you directions like you were still in her class. You are quick to nod your head, shakily standing to your feet and yanking your clothes off piece by piece until you are left completely bare. 

There’s not enough room for the position on the couch so you simply kneel onto the floor, instinctively arching your back in the slightest as you get on your hands and knees for her. Ellie tsks at the sight, rolling up her sleeves as if she were about to eat a delicious meal and in her opinion, she was. 

“Such a filthy girl, spreading open your cunt for your own professor” she spits, humiliating you all over again, although this time you find that her words go straight to your aching cunt. “S’ not my fault my professor is a perv” you shoot back, still blowing off steam from earlier. 

Your bratty words only make her smile widen, completely used to how mouthy you get after she’s made some sort of fuck up. “But it is your fault that you like it so much” she quips, her hand resting on the small of your back as she gets behind you. 

There’s no time to think of a sharp reply, as one of her thick fingers is already sliding through your slick folds without a single bit of resistance. “Always so wet for me, pup. S’ adorable” she praises, feeling you shudder underneath her touch. 

“N-no teasing today, you’ve been mean enough” you state shakily, trying to stand your ground for once. Your demand makes Ellie scoff, letting her finger get thoroughly soaked by your arousal before pushing in her finger finally. 

You can’t stop the moan that passes your lips, the relief crashing over you and leaving you breathless. “Holy fuck, no matter how many times I fuck you stuid you’re cunt still sucks me in like you’re a goddamn virgin” she states with a cruel chuckle, fucking her finger into you at an unforgiving pace. 

“Shut up” you manage to breathe out, your hips subconsciously moving back in order to match her pace. “Why don’t you make me, hm? What’re you gonna do? Cry till you get your way?” she questions harshly, giving no warning as she pushes in a second finger, your gummy walls so slick that she can fuck you open with ease. 

You can only whimper in response to her mean words, knowing you had no way of making her be quiet when she has you in such a vulnerable position. Ellie wishes she could record you in this moment, maybe even upload it to some porn site with a cliche title like “student gets on all fours for professor”— or something like that at least. 

“Fuck, just like that puppy, keep moving those hips” she says in a breathless voice, so entranced by the way your cunt keeps a vice grip on her fingers as she pushes them in and out. She moves her fingers in a scissoring motion in order to stretch you further, listening to the way your moans grow higher pitched with every thrust of her fingers. 

The pleasure in your body is building and you know it’s not long until you have to let go completely, yet you find yourself embarrassed by how easy it is to make you come when you’re so worked up. 

“Ellie, Els— gonna come, Jesus Christ” you pant, your thighs trembling as you try to keep yourself upright. Ellie clicks her tongue as if in disapproval, her fingers still curling inside you as she speaks. “If you wanna get fucked you better not come, I swear to god I’ll leave you here if you come on my fingers” she says sharply, showing that she is not messing with you at all. 

“But—“ you start, only to let out a cry as she stills her motions so you’re not receiving any stimulation at all. Just as quickly as you felt your high coming on, it fades away in an instant and you nearly collapse from defeat, your orgasm completely ruined. 

You’re a blubbering mess, trying to turn to face Ellie as tears threaten to spill over from how frustrated you are with her. “I was being good!” you practically shout, not truly understanding why she insisted on stopping. 

That is until your eyes lowered, listening to her belt come undone before she unzips her fly. Once she tugs down her boxers, you’re finally staring right at her strap, the one she used on you nearly every night that you never grew tired of. 

“You walk around with that thing on?” you ask in complete shock, your face flushing at the idea of her packing even during class. “Is that a problem with you?” she questions teasingly as she unbuttons her top, leaving her bare besides the heavy strap that hung from her hips. 

“I don’t care, I don’t give a fuck, just please let me come” you beg, pushing your ass up into the air to get what you wanted from her. “Such an eager student, but don’t think you’re getting an A just cause I get to fuck you” she jokes, uncaring that you’re nearly in purgatory from not being able to have a proper orgasm. 

She redeems herself by lining up her cock with your aching entrance, guiding the tip to gently tap against your clit so she can watch the way you jolt from sensitivity. Ellie doesn’t bother asking how you want it tonight, knowing that you’re just desperate to get off at this point. 

She pushes into you, your cunt only resisting due to the thickness of her strap. You let out a string of moans as she sinks into you completely, feeling so full after being empty for so long. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head at the feeling of her tip kissing your cervix as she bottoms out. 

Within an instant she is moving, thrusting into you like her life depends on it. “Fuck” is all she can pant out as she fucks into you mercilessly, the curve of her cock hitting all the right spots within you. 

You’re down for the count, drool seeping from the corner of your lips as she pounds into you relentlessly. The pleasure begins to build once more and Ellie can tell you are getting close by the way it gets a bit harder to push inside you, your walls tightening around her. 

“You gonna come, angel? Gonna make a mess on my cock like the pathetic girl you are?” she questions, still muttering curses as she uses one hand to spread open your cunt to watch her dick slide in and out of you while her other hand keeps a firm grip on your hip. 

You nod feverishly, knowing that was her way of giving you permission to let go. “Yes! S’ too much, unhh—“ is all you can manage before your words slur into something incoherent. 

Ellie refuses to let up even as you’re coming for her, fucking you through your orgasm and cursing at the sight of the white ring that had now formed at the base of her strap. 

As you come down, you collapse onto the floor, Ellie’s cock sliding out of you as you tremble on the floor, the carpet feeling soothing against your skin. “Thank you” you manage to mutter weakly, gaining a small “aww” from Ellie in response, she undoes her harness as you lay there helplessly, scanning your features for any signs of distress or discomfort but coming up empty. 

Once the item is discarded, she lays down beside you, pulling you close to her own bare body. The skin to skin contact eases you back into reality and you finally feel like you can breathe once more. Ellie is busy pressing kisses against your shoulder, trailing up your neck until she could press a sweet kiss to your lips. 

You look at her with a dazed expression, taking note of how pretty she looked after giving you what might’ve been the best fuck of your life. 

“M’ still mad, y’know” you state, your voice shaking despite your attempt to be firm. “I know, I know. I fucked up. But I’ll keep apologizing till you accept it, I’ll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness if that’s what you want” she says in a gentle voice, being completely serious. 

She’d do anything as long as it meant getting back in your good graces. “Just give me a few more nights like this and I’ll think about forgiving you” you hum, toying with the ends of her short hair. 

“Sounds very fair, pup” she says in a pleased tone. “Do you need more or are you tired?” she asks in a caring tone, her calloused hand running along your side as she speaks. 

“Sleepy, just wanna shower and go to bed” you sigh, sitting up a bit and glancing at the coffee table. You grab her glasses, putting them on and giving Ellie a fucked out smile. The sight makes Ellie chuckle, her finger coming up to push them up the bridge of your nose so they fit better. 

“Well aren’t you the cutest girl who ever lived” she states playfully. But let’s get you into the shower, alright?” she offers, pulling the glasses off your face and setting them down once more so she can help you up. 

As you lean against her on the way to the bathroom, you can’t help but think of how likely it was that she would take out her anger on you again. You knew the relationship you shared with your professor wasn’t healthy but there was no one else in the world you’d rather have.

[maxtermind]

absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing? 

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. 

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace. 

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them. 

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while." 

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her." 

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[plasticferal]

hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)

damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.

i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.

the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.

all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.

“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.

you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.

you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.

all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.

the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.

chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.

every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.

"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.

"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.

"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.

“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.

"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.

"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.

"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.

"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.

"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.

"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.

looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.

"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.

"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.

you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.

"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.

"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.

you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.

feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.

when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.

"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.

chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.

turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.

"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.

"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.

"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.

the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.

"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.

"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.

"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.

"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.

you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.

"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.

you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.

"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.

"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.

you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.

"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.

chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.

"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.

there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.

you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.

the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.

he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.

before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.

chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.

the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.

you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.

in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.

he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.

you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.

you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.

appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.

they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.

nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.

your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.

chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.

you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.

"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.

walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.

the room is filled with tension.

matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.

"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.

"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.

"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.

"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.

matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.

"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.

you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.

you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.

“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.

he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.

“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.

“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.

"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

"chris," you start. he keeps talking.

“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.

“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.

“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.

"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.

"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.

"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.

"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.

"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.

"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.

"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.

you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.

"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.

you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.

"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."

"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.

"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"

"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.

"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"

"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.

"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.

your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.

in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.

chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.

the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.

you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.

"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.

he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.

"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.

tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.

turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.

you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.

"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.

"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.

with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.

"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.

his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.

"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.

chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.

"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.

he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.

"i mean it, y/n."

"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.

"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.

he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.

"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.

"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."

"i know, chris."

"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."

"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.

"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.

"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.

"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.

you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.

"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."

"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.

"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.

chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.

"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.

you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.

"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.

his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.

"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.

chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.

"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."

this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.

[geekforhorror]

hiiii love ur writing sm !! i don’t have many specifics but i know i’d like to see corruption kink nd dacryphilia w/ jamie:)) thank u sm:) !!

thank you for the kind words anon! when i first saw this ask i actually moaned 😫

cherry pie

pairing: dbf!james kelly x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!james, sub!reader, unprotected p in v sex, degradation, dacryphilia, corruption kink, rough sex, possessiveness, jealousy, pet names, fluff, etc.

“You think you can just walk around outside flaunting what has always been mine, sweetheart?” James rasps into the shell of your ear as he fucks you raw. “You thought wrong.”

You had just flown home from college and decided to stop by your dad’s house. To your surprise, he had thrown you a welcome home party and invited your closest friends, some family, and most importantly: his best friend James.

Coincidentally, you just so happened to be wearing the skimpiest clothing imaginable. In front of James. As soon as the party officially started, you made your way around the house thanking everyone who had managed to show up. Everything was going well until you started conversing with your good family friend, Andrew. Unbeknownst to you, James had become furious once he saw the two of you exchanging harmless words to one another. He hated it and the rage in his eyes only confirmed it even more. You were his, even if the two of you weren’t a thing.

He decided to take matters into his own hands and stormed outside, intending to walk over to the two of you and stop anything else from happening between you and Andrew. Once he finally made his way over to you, he cleared his throat, which startled you.

“Hi James! It’s so nice to see you,” you said with an illuminating smile plastered on your face.

“Who’s this?” James asks with no hesitation, a look of disgust as he looks directly into Andrew’s eyes.

“James, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is James.” you say with an inviting voice.

“Nice to meet you man,” Andrew says to the man.

“Wish I could say the same. I need to talk to your friend alone, kid. Now beat it,” he says, not even trying to hide the harsh nature of his words.

“Whatever dude,” Andrew says before walking away to get a drink.

“What was that Jamie?! Andrew’s nice!” you ask in a scolding voice.

“He was getting a little too close to you for my liking,” James says coldly.

“You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t talk to! You don’t own me!” you say in a fit of anger.

“You can deny it all you want, but you know deep down that I do own you.”

And boy was he right. I mean how else would you have ended up being fucked on your bed?

“Such a fucking little brat, huh? Had to throw a damn temper tantrum at your own party, didn’t you? Whose idea do you think it was to have this party?” he grunts while plowing himself deeper into your aching hole.

“Fuck Jamie…” you cry out as you feel his fat cock stretch you out ever so deliciously.

“Poor baby…already so drunk on her daddy’s best friends cock,” he tuts in fake disapproval.

He had managed to make a girl like you lose composure with only a few thrusts. You would be lying if you said you never dreamed of this. Him doing this to you. He wanted to ruin you, so that no other man could have you.

“No boy can fulfill your deepest desires like I can. That’s why you need a man like me,” he says full of lust. “You belong to me.”

“Please…need more…” you plead, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Greedy girl, aren’t ya, darling?” he asks, already knowing the answer you would give him.

“Only for you,” you reply in a choked sob, tears finally streaming down your cheeks from how he was splitting you open. It was enough to have your toes curling and see stars.

“Lemme see those pretty tears, baby,” he says before bringing his tattooed hand to your face to wipe them even further down your cheeks. You feel his tight balls slap against the curve of your ass, which provides some much needed friction.

“James ‘m so close! Please let me cum…” you beg of him, too far gone to even paint a picture in your mind of how desperate you are in this moment.

“Promise me that you’re mine,” he demands of you.

“I’m fucking yours Jamie…all fucking yours!” you let out with raggedy moans as he stuffs you with even more of his dick.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now let go for me, m’kay sweetie? Prove that I made the right decision to let you cum,” he says in between his erratic movements, his words only spurring the two of you on. He finally hits that spot deep inside of you, enough for you to teeter over the edge and finally milk his cock with your sweet release.

James throws his head back at the feeling while still pile driving himself at an agonizing pace into your spent pussy. Before he knows it, his sticky ropes of seed spill into your walls, where it would stay for the rest of the night if it were up to him.

He finally pulls out and then positions himself so he’s laying directly next to your achy body. As the two of you catch your breath from your guys’ respective orgasms, he caresses your tresses.

“I love you,” he says, breaking the silence once and for all, causing you to look at him in shock.

“You love me?” you ask, wondering if you had heard him right.

“How could I not, baby?” he responds.

“I was just wondering because…I love you too Jamie.” you admit.

The look he gave you was one of awe and admiration. You felt so lucky to have a man who cared for you deeper than you could’ve ever imagined. Needless to say, he felt the same way.

“So where do we go from here?” he asks nervously with a chuckle.

“I may have an idea,” you say before pressing a gentle kiss to his soft lips.

tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @midnight-raine @camiemorgan8 @myheartwillgoon2022 @demieyesore

[missshirophantom]

Yandere Alphabet Sebastian Solace

From the author: hello everyone. I apologize for the abrupt disappearance after the first posts. There was a lot of shit going on in real life. And now especially, especially when I almost had a panic attack. This post... a small attempt to somehow cope with all the emotional problems. Ahem, I apologize for the mistakes, because English is not my native language and I used a translator. Yes, and I just got over it now... Tears, that's it. If I feel better (and a positive reaction will be enough), then I will write a small sketch using this post.

Warning: dr#g use without consent, threat of broken bones, threat of bondage, slight isolation, hint of c#nnib#lism. If you are for the fact that yandere Sebastian is gentle or dark, then you are absolutely not here. The author does not approve of the above written in real life.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

— Due to so many years of literal torture and DNA implantation, Sebastian has forgotten how to show love and affection. At least, that's what many people imagine.

— Thanks to vague memories of his past, he often gives "gifts". These are usually very rare deceased marine life that he found while exploring the complex. Most often, he drags soft objects such as pillows and blankets to another person.

— It is worth considering that he will often be... Biting his beloved is not strong, of course, but deep enough and in prominent places so that the bite mark remains as long as possible.

— In rare moments, Sebastian can clamp his beloved with his tail and hands, preventing them from moving. Such moments last quite a long time — from several hours to even days. But don't be afraid, he will feed you.

— About feeding... Sometimes Sebastian intentionally brings dead marine life and forces the beloved to eat them raw, saying that he did not find a normal meal for you, and that's all he found, and there is no necessary equipment to cook.

— And I. Don't even think about giving up this "meal", because he can get very angry at you the longer and more persistently you refuse.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

— This case can be described as follows: rarely, but aptly.

— Sebastian hates people, especially getting dirty in their blood. But when the threat is directed either at him, or at the beloved, or at his refuge, then... Yes. It's better not to see it. In particular, you don't need to know where that poor guy's body goes next.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

— Despite his hatred of people, which he skillfully hides by contacting them in his store, especially if you are a person yourself, but in moments of his bad mood, Sebastian can mock you. Especially when you are trying to escape or are somehow stubborn, protesting against his actions and the like.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

— It all depends on how his beloved behaves. If they try to escape more than once, he will give them a "medicine" in order to keep them in a sluggish and weakened state in the shelter.

— Well, he also locks them in a shelter while he goes out to get supplies. For good behavior, they may not even tie you up and tie you to the railing of the stairs.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

— It's not much... It is difficult, especially when Sebastian vaguely remembers his life before his arrest and experiments.

— But if he is in a good mood, he can talk about his past. Especially about his cat, whom he misses.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

— Definitely an annoyance. And the stronger and longer the beloved resists, the stronger his irritation, turning into anger.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

— Sebastian does not consider this a game, even though he finds it funny to watch the escape attempts of the beloved and their plans for this. But still, he is serious that even for the sake of his "fun" he does not allow another to escape.

— So, yes. the DNA of the same white shark, which awakens in him the instincts of pleasure over the attempts of another to escape.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

— Oh, definitely quite strong and a decent dose of "medicine" if the beloved misbehaves for too long. Sebastian rarely uses physical punishments. Except when he is very, very driven. Then he will definitely break a couple of bones in his legs.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

— Sebastian just doesn't know. The arrest and experiments forced him to think about the present, not the future. Especially when there is a looming danger over him because of his mutations. And not only that.

— But somewhere in the tender moments with his beloved, he definitely thought about having a family with them. And also a safe place where they both don't need anything and no one bothers them.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

— As long as the other person does not speak directly and flirt, or God forbid, does not try to touch the other, then Sebastian is ready to be patient. And if any of this happens, he immediately throws this person out of his store and forbids him to come back. Believe me, this is the mildest thing he can do in bouts of jealousy.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

— Believe it or not, but it's pretty good, let it depend on the mood. Sebastian definitely likes to hold his beloved with his tail and sleep in this position, curled up in the "nest". Bite them, thereby marking them. As it was written above, he gives, albeit sometimes gloomy gifts: dead marine life, someone's bones. But it's definitely nice to get the same pillows and blankets from him. On particularly "lucky" days, he may even bring some simple puzzles, blank paper, and writing supplies. Or even the clean clothes of the employees! And also, as it was written, he definitely likes to watch the beloved eat the food he brought.

— However, do not try to annoy him in any way or, God forbid, make him angry. And even if nothing serious happens for the first time, it's better not to push your luck.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

— He will definitely compose a little poetry and read it to you. But mostly his love language, if you can call it that, is gifts, not particularly frequent physical contact, as well as... preening when Sebastian's mood is definitely high. He likes to mess with the hair of his beloved, untangling tangles with his claws and cleaning them from dirt. But it's definitely somehow caused by injected DNA and getting some instincts. Well, Sebastian can also be a good gentleman.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

— Yes. Quite a lot if you continue to test his patience.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

— It varies depending on how much his patience is exhausted. If he speaks from the most harmless to severe punishment, then it goes something like this: stronger and deeper bites that leave a scar; short-term deprivation of food; small doses of "medicine"; medium doses; a large dose; broken bones, usually legs.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

— Freedom, defined. Sebastian will definitely lock the beloved in the shelter while he goes on business. But even without that, he still has no intention of letting them out of his sight, especially when they are not the first to try to escape or behave badly.

— It will also definitely monitor your meals with extreme care and sleep patterns.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

— Surprisingly, he is quite patient. But even such patience has its limits.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

— Sebastian will refuse to believe that their beloved has died. By that time, he will have time to get very attached and it will be a blow to him. So be prepared for the fact that he will simply lose the remnants of his humanity and will babysit your body by locking himself in a shelter.

— Well, if it's an escape... It won't be difficult for him to find you. He knows this place like his own... "Five" fingers. Plus, his senses are highly developed, as are his newfound instincts.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

— Definitely not for both questions. And even if Sebastian hated people and if you are a person yourself, he will not let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

— After the accusation that he did not commit, years of experimentation on him, torture, as well as the loss of some memories, you evoke in him... Something really different and new, amidst all this hatred and irritation. This feeling made him relax a little, feel the warmth in his chest and just made his barely controlled instincts calm down.

— You can say that he is really curious. Plus... Years of loneliness in this cruel situation are making themselves felt.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

— Definitely a confusion. Why do you want to come back at all? There, on the surface, you will find a much more cruel world than here, next to it. Yes, the conditions here are not so good, but it is much better than sitting behind bars in a dirty cell or, God forbid, being a test subject of these disgusting people.

— Despite the confusion, Sebastian understands these feelings. But he definitely didn't want to watch the situation worsen. He will definitely give you "medicines" to let you forget, but he will not work hard with it. After all, Sebastian does not want to be like the people who conducted experiments on him.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

— Not really.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

— It's definitely that Sebastian has become a monster, without a shred of humanity. Despite everything, he still misses the time when he was human, and these words will infuriate him. Plus, the same flashlight or flash in sensitive eyes. This disorients him for a few seconds.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

— Mentally? Not much. Physically? Quite a lot, and it depends on how much you've exhausted his patience.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

— It depends on a lot of things. From the time you are with him, situations have occurred, especially those related to your life. The longer you stay with him and the more situations there are related to your life, the more he will begin to take care of you. But as for the conquest, this is another story and much longer, because Sebastian lost that normal part of himself, acting on the basis of instincts and vague memories.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

— It depends on the situation.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

— Oh, Sebastian, which is a little surprising, will try to prevent this. He doesn't want a man like you to become even a little bit like him.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

WOVEN BONDS IS AMAZING!!!!! Pls make part 2,3,4,5,6 😭🫡💖

woven bonds pt 2

this was very requested so here we are!!

You've been sold to an orc by your father, and after shutting yourself in for a few weeks, youve finally started to come to enjoy your new husbands company

warnings/tags- bedrotting, arranged marrige but pertah loves you so thats nice, pert'ah speaks with semi-broken english

word count- 1167

The days that followed were filled with silence, but it was a different kind of silence. No longer filled with the heavy weight of anger or hopelessness, it was instead filled with uncertainty. Pert'ah continued his routine—bringing you food, speaking to you in soft tones, always giving you space while he worked outside or wove intricate tapestries by the hearth. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Yet, you felt a change inside yourself.

It was small at first. One morning, after he had left a bowl of fruit by your bedside, you reached out and took a piece, biting into it with a sense of resignation. It was sweeter than you had expected, and you found yourself eating more. That night, you ate a bit of the stew he left. It wasn’t the same as the dishes from your old home, but it was warm, hearty, and made with care.

Pert'ah noticed. You could see the relief in his eyes when he glanced at the empty bowl later that day. He didn’t say anything, but the gentle way his lips turned upward spoke volumes. 

As days passed, you started to leave the bed for longer periods. You’d sit by the window and watch him work outside. Pert'ah would spend hours weaving, his large hands surprisingly nimble as they guided the threads into beautiful patterns. Sometimes, he would carve small figures out of wood or clay, his concentration deep as he brought the raw materials to life. The more you watched him, the more you saw the softness behind his hardened exterior. There was an artistry to everything he did, a careful thoughtfulness.

Slowly, you began to speak to him.

It wasn’t much at first—a word here, a question there—but Pert'ah’s eyes lit up each time you addressed him. His responses were always careful, his voice soft and unsure as if he feared saying the wrong thing and scaring you away.

One evening, you found yourself standing outside the hut, watching him work on a large tapestry. The orange light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting warm shadows over his figure. He glanced up when he noticed you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

"I… I work on this for winter," he said, standing up slowly, dusting off his hands. "Keep us warm."

You nodded, stepping closer. The tapestry was beautiful, its rich colors weaving together in patterns of leaves and flowers. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, a testament to his skill.

"It’s… it’s beautiful," you said softly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Pert'ah’s eyes widened slightly. He looked at you as though you had given him the greatest compliment in the world. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he took a step toward you, his large hand tentatively reaching out as though he wanted to touch your arm, but he hesitated.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice low, almost shy. "I… I make it for you. For us."

You felt something in your chest stir at his words, a warmth that was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Pert'ah had been nothing but kind to you, patient in a way you had never expected from an orc. And now, as you stood in the golden light of dusk, watching him look at you with such raw vulnerability, you realized you were no longer as angry as you once were.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to him more and more. Pert'ah would tell you stories of his clan, how he had been raised as a weaver and how orc culture was not as warlike as humans believed. He would sit by the fire in the evenings, his deep voice filling the room as he spoke of the orcs’ long history of craftsmanship, of art, and of building rather than destroying.

And slowly, your barriers began to crumble.

One night, after dinner, you sat together in the hut, the fire crackling softly as you both shared a quiet moment. Pert'ah was working on another carving, his large fingers skillfully shaping the wood into something delicate. You watched him for a while, fascinated by the contrast between his size and the gentleness of his craft.

"Why… why do you make so many things?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Pert'ah paused, looking up at you with a small smile. "I make because I love it. It make world… more beautiful." His eyes softened as they met yours. "And now… I make for you."

The way he said it, so simple and yet so full of meaning, made your heart skip a beat. Pert'ah wasn’t just making things to fill the space. He was making them for you, offering pieces of himself in every woven thread and carved figure. 

Over time, Pert'ah became more than just the orc you had been forced to marry. He became the person you looked forward to seeing each day, the one who spoke to you with care and treated you with a tenderness that slowly melted away your fears.

Pert'ah, for his part, was falling deeper in love with you with each passing day. He adored every small smile you gave him, every word you spoke. It was as though you were the center of his world now, and he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. He would wake up early to prepare your meals, always trying new dishes to see which ones you liked. He would carve small figures for you, weaving your favorite flowers into tapestries.

His love grew more intense, almost obsessive, but never in a way that felt suffocating. He watched you with reverence, always making sure to give you the space you needed, but it was clear in his eyes—Pert'ah was head over heels in love. You had become his muse, his heart, and every moment with you only deepened his feelings.

One night, as you sat together by the fire, Pert'ah spoke softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"[Name]… I never think I can feel like this. You make my heart… full." He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I do anything for you. Alway.."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. You could feel the depth of his feelings, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of rejection or acceptance.For the first time, you didn’t shy away. Instead, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. His skin was warm, rough but comforting beneath your touch.

"I don’t know if I’m ready to say that yet," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But… I do care about you, Pert'ah."

His face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. "That enough for me. I wait for you..alway.."

And for the first time since your marriage, you smiled back.

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Could you do eddie and fem reader who are getting spicy in his van but she sees he went to their favorite fast food place without her but they don't wanna stop so they have sex while arguing

A/N: Hi! I'm so sorry to get to this so late! I wanted to do this justice! I changed it up a little, but it is the same idea? Kinda? Lol

CW: sex, smut, porn with plot?, Eddie x reader, no genitals or gender for reader mentioned, desperate! Eddie, riding Eddie, penetrative sex, unprotected (wrap it up, kids), sub! Eddie, dom! reader, kinda grumpy/mean! reader, food mentioned, etc.

Lesson Learned?

Sub! Eddie x Dom! Reader

Eddie was spent, his hands gripping your hips, thrusting in and out of you as you bounced on his cock, your eyes rolling back as you tried to grip something near you, the closest thing being the cupholder Eddie had in the back that was conveniently behind him. You grabbed at it, hands brushing something plastic that was wet and cold. You furrowed your brows as Eddie, continued to thrust up but stuttered a bit as you grabbed the object, bringing it up and out of the holder, curious as to where Eddie had stopped before he picked you up. 

“B-baby? What’s the matter?,” Eddie stuttered out, hips still thrusting into you despite your still body. 

You stared at the cup behind his head, recognizing the little blue windmill anywhere. 

Dutch Bros. 

The jackass went to Dutch Bros without you. 

You pulled the cup from behind Eddie’s head as you held it in front of his face, eyebrows furrowed and blood boiling. 

“What the fuck is this?”

Eddie swallows a bit, but looks confused, shrugging. “I got a Rebel because I was tired from work. Didn’t want to be too tired to visit my baby,” He purred, trying to lean in and kiss you as you shoved his face away. You gripped his chin with your hand, anger spurring inside you. 

“And you didn’t get me anything?” 

Eddie smiles weakly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I forgot what you usually get and-” 

You dropped the drink behind him into the holder and began once again riding him with reckless abandon, anger bubbling over at your boyfriend's mistake. He knew how much you loved Dutch Bros. And sure it was a simple mistake, but after the shitty day you’d had? It was the last straw. 

“Then fucking call and ask? Hm?” 

Eddie’s eyes rolled back as he seemed to try and clutch at you, his moans veering more into whines. “Fuck, baby…not so rough…I can’t-” 

You dug your nails into him. Dragging them down his chest and causing a guttural groan to escape his mouth. You leaned in and whispered, voice full of venom. “And now, you don’t get to cum until I let you.” You pulled back, an evil grin gracing your face as Eddie seemed to whimper, eyes wide and body strained. 

“Bu-but, I-”

You put a finger to his lips and continued to ride him, pleasuring yourself on his cock. You squeezed him, causing him to whimper. 

“Too bad.” 

Eddie’s body was shaking as he continued to thrust into you after your fifth orgasm, his brow getting that cute little furrow you loved so much. His poor cock was red at the tip as you continued to use him, your body practically spent from the pleasure. 

Eddie whimpered and seemed to practically sob, clearly overstimulated from all the edging and foreplay that he’d had for the past hour. 

“Please…please…baby…been so good…I’m sorry,” He whined out, voice almost raw. 

You gripped his hair, pulling a moan from his lips before a sob escaped them. 

“Fine…I guess you’ve paid for your mistake. Go ahead, baby. Been so good, you deserve to fill me up, hm?,” You purred, clawing lightly at his chest. 

Eddie groaned and started to thrust more erratically, his eyes rolling back as his hands roamed, desperate to touch any part of you. You felt your pleasure climb as well, finally snapping as Eddie groaned and spilled into you, his dick continuing to twitch as rope after rope of cum spurted into you. 

Eddie collapsed on top of you a bit, sighing before panting, hair painted to his forehead with sweat, his skin painted red with claw marks and bites. A perfect vision. 

“S-sorry…I’ll call next t-time,” He worked out still collapsed above you, making you smile devilishly to yourself. Guess he learned.

“It’s okay…I’m over it now.”

[areislol]

it just won't be the same.

"you were a wonderful experience." "you were... everything."

ft— various genshin male x gn! reader

warning — angst with no comfort,breakup!! intended lowercase, not proofread.

a/n— just putting this out before chapter six of my series, we love that. anywho i have another lil thing on the way as well ^^

wordcount. 1.0k

truth be told, he missed you. he missed you a lot.

as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, he found himself grappling with the lingering ache of heartbreak that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

he reminisces about his connection with you, a connection which no longer existed. the apartment they once called "home" echoed with the haunting silence of memories.

he... remembers how he had grown accustomed to waking up alone. for years, the empty space beside him seemed to mirror the loneliness that lingered in his heart. but when a serendipitous twist of fate introduced him to you, he found himself waking up in bed alongside his lover who admiringly gazes at him.

for once he felt happiness, he would've never imagined himself to finally find the one, that he would always be alone—and yet here you were. ready to embrace and welcome him in your loving arms.

but of course, not everything lasted forever. and that's what hurt the most. he thought that you would be the very one to be by his side forever until you both grow old. he had faith, he trusted himself and his intuition.

oh how he was he was wrong.

he faced the harsh reality of an ending that he never saw coming. The pain, raw and unfiltered, painted his world in shades of heartache. he found himself grappling with the harsh truth that not all love stories are meant to endure.

and once again, he found himself waking up to the haunting vacancy of an empty bed. he grappled with the familiar ache of waking up alone, haunted by the fleeting happiness that had slipped through his grasp.

he wondered how something that felt so right could end so painfully wrong.

he remembered the day you sent him that very text, the very text that would have ever-lasting effects on him. the very text he dreaded since the beginning of your relationship.

he remembered how he felt when he first got a look at your message. "we should talk." oh. that sentence.

he remembered meeting up with you on a rainy day (coincidental huh?) at 2 AM, surprisingly you didn't bring an umbrella which you usually did, luckily for him he brought one for you both to share.

"there's no need, i'll make this quick."

quick? what did you mean? he was unsure of what you had meant, oh if he could only go back and try to persuade you so much more.

the rain poured from the sky in a relentless downpour, as if the very sky had opened up to release its pent-up emotions. it just had to be raining.

both your hairs were soaking wet, rain dribbling down from your head to your face, he had the urge to wipe your face dry and hold an umbrella over you but, he knew better.

he remembers feeling an undescribable gut-wrenching feeling, one he had never felt before.

he remembered how dry his throat felt, had it always been that dry?

he remembered how he seemed to have stopped breathing, his breath short and rigged.

"lets break up, i.. i just don't think this will work. you're too busy and i don't feel loved at all, you really hurt me. i'm sorry but i think this is for the best."

"break up?" his voice was barely above a whisper as his words slipped from his mouth, he inched closer to you, hand reaching out to you before he stopped himself.

he remembered seeing you crying, or maybe it was just the rain. he couldn't see properly anyway, tears were brimming his eyes.

it just couldn't be. his eyes remained focused on you, he studied your face. was this a prank? no, your face.. it was mingled with many emotions, anger? disappointment? he was unsure. brows furrowed as you stared at him, not uttering a single word.

"n—no wait, please, explain yourself. i— if i did something wrong please tell me what i did i'll fix it! what do you mean you don't feel loved? i'll give you everything you need please don't—"

it was no use. his words left no impression on you, he stumbled over his words as he continued to pour out his heart, thinking about everything he must've done to upset you.

"please, don't make this anymore complicated than it already is, you know what you did. i only wish you the best,"

he remembered you letting out a sigh before speaking again. "... you were a wonderful experience."

a wonderful experience?

he remembered everything so vividly as if it happened yesterday. he remembered standing out in the rain in the dead of night, you were long gone, leaving him in the pouring rain, the soft glowing amber streetlights illuminating the wet concrete ground

"you were... everything." he whispered, the weight of those words hanging in the air. his voice was shaky and barely audible as he let out quiet, pained choked sobs, letting his tears run freely down his cheeks.

the pain was unbearable.

the days, weeks, months and years after was like no other. he felt incomplete, he couldn't quite accept the fact that you two were over, gone, all the things you did together were gone. nothing but bittersweet memories.

he despised the gods for being so cruel, everywhere he went was just another blunt reminder of you. the cafes, the parks, museums, galleries, everything.

even the cats you both used to feed every weekend, everything reminded him of you. it was like a curse, clinging and gnawing on his heart.

regret loomed over him like a shadow as he found himself grappling with the haunting question of what could have been done differently. he traced his fingers over old photographs, the smiles frozen in time.

his fingers would linger there on your face a little bit longer unknowingly.

the truth remained: the love that had once been the foundation of their shared world had crumbled, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let something precious slip through his fingers.

but, if there was a chance, he would go back in time and change everything he ever did to upset you. he yearned for a time machine to undo the missteps and restore the life they had built together. please, take him back.

— (all male genshin characters)

note: erm i just wanted to yeah i wrote this in an hour so if it is rushed NO IT IS NOT (yes it is)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: NOW A (slight) ANGST WITH COMFORT FIC NEXT YAY

[shadowdaddies]

Hi!! I adore your writing! I would love if you wrote a story with Azriel, where reader (mated with Az ) hears the IC talking about someone being clingy/annoying, and she thinks it’s her, so she withdraws herself entirely, even from Az and he finally finds out and explains they were talking about someone else, and then fluff. Love you!

hi! thank you for the request, love you!💜 (Madja stans if you're out there, maybe avoid this one)

Family

Azriel x Reader (ft. the IC and Valkyries)

You had only been mated to Azriel for about six months now, but the way that the Inner Circle had accepted you as part of the family immediately meant the world to you. You had struggled much of your life with friends and family making you feel like you were clingy, or a burden when you spent ‘too much’ time with them, so being able to be around your new family in Velaris was a breath of fresh air, lifting a weight off your chest for the first time in years.

Skipping down the stairs to join your family for dinner, you heard them from where they were already seated at the table. You froze in your tracks when you heard the words spill from Feyre’s mouth. “I know, she can be quite overbearing. It was tiresome when I had to see her so much before. I’m glad I’ve had a break from her visits, at least for the time being.” 

Tears sprang to your eyes as everyone around the table laughed at the comment, Nesta adding to the insult. “Well, I have no way of avoiding her, at least for now.” It felt as though your heart was caving in, completely crushed by Nesta’s words in particular. You had enjoyed starting training with the Valkyries lately, and you thought of the other females as your friends. 

Unable to hear anymore of their jokes, you covered your ears, running back upstairs to your room and locking the door behind you. Not a moment later, Azriel knocked on the door. “My love, is everything alright?” 

Sniffling through your silent cries, you refused to be any more of a burden than you apparently were. “I’m fine, Az. I’m just not feeling well, so I thought I would go to bed early.” 

There was a long silence before you heard a soft sigh through the door. “Okay. I’ll bring you some leftovers. Please let me know if you need anything from me, angel.”

Once you knew Azriel was back downstairs, you let the tears out. Yet again, you were unwanted, and it hurt that much worse to know that your mate was sitting at that table as well. If he didn’t defend you, he must feel the same way. After crying out every tear you could produce, you found yourself exhausted, sleep claiming you quickly. 

You awoke the next morning to a pounding on your door, a nervous Nesta on the other side. “Hey, are you in there? We missed you at training today. I had some things I was hoping to talk to you about.” 

You scoffed internally at her claims, knowing exactly how untrue they were after her words last night. Managing to produce a fake cough, you responded in a weak voice. “I’m just not feeling well. I’m sleeping but maybe we can talk later.” 

The sorrow was palpable in Nesta’s tone. “Okay then. I hope you feel better. Please let me know if I can do anything for you,” she said softly, before walking away.

Unable to be around these people any longer, you put on a coat and headed out for a walk along the Sidra, the fresh air helping to clear your spiraling thoughts. None of it made sense - they seemed so truly happy to spend time with you, so why would your family say those things? 

Just as you started to question everything, shadows swirled in front of you, your mate appearing with concern clear in his hazel eyes. “Love, what is going on? First you skipped dinner last night, and now Nesta tells me you missed out on Valkyrie training as well. Talk to me.”

Filled with anger, you couldn’t push down your emotions any longer. “I heard you all talking at dinner last night, Azriel!”

Your mate staggered backwards, raw confusion written across his face. “Love, what are you talking about? What about dinner?”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his attempt of evading the conversation, which earned you a rare seething glare from the shadowsinger. “I heard Feyre and Nesta, and all of you laughing. They were talking about how overbearing and tiresome I am, and how Nesta ‘has to spend time’ with me now. And you - you didn’t stand up for me, Azriel.” 

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched his reaction to your words. The confusion, and the realization. Instead of apologizing, Azriel just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between scarred fingers. You were about to fly into another fit of rage when he spoke. “We weren’t talking about you. With Nesta’s new pregnancy, she is having to see Madja for check-ups often. Even though she has the hips to birth an Illyrian baby, Madja has been very concerned and it’s been driving Nesta crazy. Feyre was talking about the same, with her pregnancy with Nyx.” 

Immediately, you were filled with shame over your assumptions. Burying your head in your hands, the self-loathing came rushing into you with a renewed force. “I’m so sorry, Az. I should’ve known better than to assume - I’m just so used to feeling like a burden and I thought...” 

Azriel stepped forward, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other came to cup your chin, moving your hands away so that he could see your face. “I understand, my love. I know what you feel. But we are your family, and you are not a burden. You are so loved, and I need you to feel comfortable talking to me about these things.” 

You nodded, a soft smile of relief gracing your features as you leaned forward to give Azriel a gentle kiss. He wrapped you in both of his arms, his warm embrace filling you with immediate calm. He pulled back, the smirk on his lips highlighting the dimples that you loved. “You should speak to Nesta.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, and the two of you walked back home hand in hand, enjoying the sunset over the Sidra. When you arrived home, Nesta was waiting in the kitchen, concern etched on her face as she noticed your still-puffy eyes. “Hey, Nes,” you said weakly, and Azriel gave a kiss to your temple before leaving the room.

Nesta stood up, walking over to you with a purpose as she wrapped you in a hug. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I hope you know that I am here for you, if you ever want to talk.” You nodded, taking a deep breath as you hugged your friend. After a long moment, Nesta pulled back, a smile on her face. “I did need to talk to you about something this morning - if now is a good time.” 

You eagerly nodded, encouraging her to continue as you took a seat next to her at the kitchen table. The beautiful female rested a hand on her stomach, absentmindedly rubbing where her baby rested as she spoke. “Madja wants me to rest from now through the rest of the pregnancy. The girls really love and respect you, so I was hoping that you could take over training them in the meantime.” 

Your heart swelled at her kind words, the affirmation that you needed in that moment. Diving forward, you brought Nesta in for another hug as you nodded, tears lining your eyes yet again. “Yes, Nesta. I’d be so honored to help with training. Thank you.” 

You pulled back, your friend taking your hand in hers as she gave it a reassuring squeeze, just as Rhys and Feyre walked in with Nyx. The little boy ran up to you, “Auntie! I missed you at dinner last night. Uncle Az said your tummy hurt. That happens to me, too.” You laughed at the sweet child, lifting him into your arms for a hug as you followed Rhys, Feyre, and Nesta into the dining room. 

Taking your seat next to Azriel, Rhys poured the wine for everyone - Nesta raising her glass as she proposed a toast to you, one of the new leaders of the Valkyries and a great addition to the family. Leaning into Azriel’s side, you smiled as you looked around at your family - thankful for this unparalleled love, love so great, love that you deserved.

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Fourteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

There is a very important message after the end of the chapter. I will repost it because I know not everyone reads the messages hidden within this post!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Fourteen - Picking a Fight

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!!! Mentions of abuse, Smut (let me know if I missed any!)

Alastor was sitting in the Doomsday District when he felt his magic surge. The demon had found a half-destroyed bench to sit upon, the metal twisted upon itself from one of his previous meltdowns. With his head in his hands, Alastor sat and contemplated the past few days - days? Or had it been weeks, months, since you kissed him in Louisiana? His sense of time had no meaning anymore. 

“Hello, old pal,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Vox stood before the Radio Demon, a slick smile on his face as he surveyed the mess with which he had found him in. That was satisfaction enough for the media demon. 

Alastor ran his hands through his hair - not to fix it, but to relieve the anger itching beneath his skin. Jumping right from helplessness to anger - he was so easily riled up these days, finding it harder and harder to contain his wrath. He had thought ripping up the Doomsday District would somehow help relieve that, like a slow release of propane from a gas tank about to be set on fire but it hadn’t. He should know better, the last time you had a hold on his emotions he tried the same thing, but to no avail.

“I am not in the mood for one of our little quips today. Go on home -“

And then he felt it. The magic beneath his skin surged, his green aura pulsed, only, it wasn’t his magic which emanated from his skin. 

It was blue. It was your magic. 

Alarm sparked panic in his chest. This wasn’t a coincidence. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that,” Vox continued, completely unaware of the magic surging through Alastor’s veins. 

It smelled of Jasmine.

Fuck.

The media demon flips his phone around to show a picture of you, unconscious and tied to a chair. Vox smirked at the realization growing on Alastor’s face. 

He didn’t know it at the time, but Velvette had constructed two false images, including one of you. 

“Checkmate,” Vox gloated. “This is how this is going to go-“ 

Before Vox had a chance to complete his rehearsed speech, Alastor had exploded in a wave of rage - a ball of living fire - except these flames were blue. 

____________________________________________

For Alastor, everything changed the second you broke that seal. In that moment, he felt how much power you had. It radiated deep within his bones - even his soul felt it. 

You carried a power so potent even Zestial would cower at your feet and - as much as Alastor hated to admit it - even he found himself unnerved around the original Overlord. 

Roo. Here you were right in front of him the whole time. Raw power, hidden behind perfect teeth and red lips. 

All he had to do was reach out and take it. 

And then you leaned over him, had the audacity to leave yourself open. Alastor felt his body move before his mind did, his fingers itching for the handle of Velvette’s blade. 

For you, you had proven you would do whatever it takes for power - Hell, you killed Eve for it. And now you had to live with the consequences. Alastor? He hadn’t crossed that line yet - he had no memories of guilt which screamed “No stop! Don’t do this!” 

He had the memories of you, however. 

Of annoyance.

Of desire. 

Of lust. 

Of fear. 

Of worry. 

Of happiness. 

Emotions Alastor had not felt in such a long time… 

So, why was it so easy to palm that blade and stab it straight into your belly? 

Because Alastor was hungry. Like the cannibalistic murderer he is, Alastor has been chasing power long before he died - even so far as selling his soul for a drop more. And when you broke that seal and gave him but a taste of what ran through your veins, it pushed him past hungry, past starvation, the demon was dying and you were the only source of food for miles. 

It blinded him - the power consumed his mind completely, directing him towards one prerogative - kill.

You expected this. Why? Because you did the same to Eve. Because you saw it in your father’s eyes every time he beat you. 

The allure of power drowns its victim like a ship at sea in a storm. 

You’ve seen that barely contained anger in Al before. The warning signs have always been there. How he tried to hold himself back when he’s around you, his demonic form slipping in and out when he sees something that he wants. 

It wasn’t Alastor who sank that blade into your belly - it was the hunger for power, the Radio Demon within. 

After all, who hasn’t been tempted by power and chaos? 

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor had said. 

Absolutely beautiful…

Absolutely beautiful? 

Was he talking about you or the power…?

You broke the kiss. “Ha!” You laughed, the steel hilt deep in your belly. You didn’t even move, didn’t even flinch when Alastor stabbed you. “Oh, Mr. Alastor,” you sang, running your fingers through his bangs.

The demon sat back in his chair, absolutely confused. You’d die of shock seeing such an emotion on his face if you weren’t in the current situation the two of you had unfortunately found yourselves in. 

How did Alastor phrase your deal? “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.” 

It was a verbal contract - not a written one. So, technically, the exact details weren’t drawn out. The magic was privy to the contractees’ interpretations, and magic works in funny ways.

Remember the dream the night you had your midnight meeting? Remember how Alastor attacked you and you defended yourself with your flames? Remember how it burned his clothes but didn’t hurt him.

That’s where it all began.

Anytime you had summoned your magic or Alastor had summoned his, it not only didn’t hurt you, but it empowered you. 

You have stood in his static, have been enshrouded in his magic, and yet you came out unscathed. So why should a blade in his hand, hurt you? How was that any different? 

You took the greatest gamble of your life, leaning over Alastor while he sat in that chair, allowing yourself to be vulnerable, knowing that there was a possibility that he could actually kill you. But you’re deal - it wasn’t just a quid-pro-quo, you help me out, I help you out. No, it was more than that…

… Alastor couldn’t harm you. 

Which meant he couldn’t kill you. 

And so you took the gamble. 

You smirked, knowing your red lips did nothing but taunt the demon, “Quid-pro-quo,” You laughed. Grasping the blade, you slid it easily from your belly. You showed him the steel, absent of your blood. At most, the blade merely ripped your leather.

You laugh, “You shook on it.” 

A huge fucking gamble, and it had paid off. 

You take the blade and stab it directly into his right thigh. The demon didn’t even feel it. Batting your eyelashes, you turn your head like you sometimes see him do when asking a question, “Remember?” 

Confusion turns to anger. And for the first time, you are met with a full-fledged Alastor in demonic form. The demon rips the blade from his leg and growls, his ears flattened against his head in irritation. 

Oh, you were about to get the fight you have been dying for. 

A tentacle wraps itself around your middle and flings you backward across the dirt. Landing on your back, you quickly jump to your feet, preparing for a possible second attack. 

Alastor slowly rises from his chair, the knife slipping into his Void, and summons his microphone. He slams the cane against the ground, green sparks exploding from where it makes contact with the dirt before black tentacles emerge from his back.

The demon smiles, his lips threaded with green stitching. His sclera turn black, his antlers elongate, and prongs multiply atop his head. A green glow surrounds the Radio Demon as his body contorts in a series of cracks. Then Alastor begins to grow, the power with which he has gathered now physically represented by his size.  

“Ha, ha, ha,” the demon chuckles, his laugh echoing as if through a broken radio. “Let’s begin.”

And then his tentacles lunge, the black tendrils encased in Alastor’s green static. You spin, taking flight. You fly right past the demon, weaving through his flurry of tentacles as you head for Pentagram City. 

Alastor is hot on your tail the entire time, and just as you reach the edge, a tentacle wraps itself around your leg and flings you into a nearby abandoned building. Brick and metal come crashing down upon you as the building collapses, pinning you beneath it. 

But it doesn’t slow you down. Summoning your blue flame, you set the rubble alight, and, like a newborn phoenix, you rise from the ashes. Only to be attacked by an army of… shadow demons? 

Tiny doll-like creatures sewn together from black fabric lunge for your feet. Pulling your sword from the Void, you strike, but the blade does not cut them. Instead, they merely bounce off, like a ball hitting a baseball bat. 

What the fuck are these things!? 

One jumps for your leg, giggling as it attempts to sink its teeth into your flesh. Although you know it can't hurt you, you still instinctively jump out of its reach, using your wings to gain height. Luckily, the dolls can’t fly, and you watch as they jump beneath you, their arms outstretched as they lick their lips. 

Cannibal dolls? 

A growl warns you of Alastor’s next attack. You look up fast enough to see a literal car crash into you, the horn breaking as it slams into you. You land, the crumbled car crushing you as you roll down the street. Your wings take most of the impact, shielding your skin from the asphalt. Coming to a stop, you push yourself to your feet, the magic of the Book of Knowledge still surging through your veins. Standing, you face a demonic Alastor, his tentacles, as if legs, running down the street straight for you. 

He’s made himself a target, blind with rage, drunk on the pursuit of power. It would be all too easy to summon the power you stole from Eve and turn it against the Radio Demon. You had never used it before, but there was no time like the present to learn. 

Yet, as you stood, watching Alastor barrel straight for you, you hesitated. 

No. Not because you couldn’t technically hurt him, but because you didn’t want to even try. Something within your chest twisted, stopping you. 

You’ve been keening for a fight with him, but… but you couldn’t do it. 

Instead, you stood your ground, focusing on the magic thrumming through your veins, and forced the power from the Book of Knowledge back behind its lock. The words disappeared from your skin as Alastor raised his staff. 

A clang rang out as metal hit metal, your sword against his microphone. The demon was relentless, his strikes never letting up as he backed you down the street. All you could do was block, your heart not having it in you to strike back. Screams rang out as Sinners finally understood what was going on and fled in fear. 

A crazed look in his eye, the demon continued to hack, his strikes sloppy, his weight thrown into every thrust. Technique-wise, he was no match for a skilled warrior such as yourself. You could have easily had him on his ass if you wanted to - but you didn’t. 

A tentacle wrapped around your ankle, and as Alastor swiped at you with his staff, he pulled. You landed face first, a smack against concrete, rolling just in time to dodge the blow which was aimed directly at your face. As you rolled, you climbed to your feet and flung yourself out of reach of his next physical attack in one big beat of your wings. 

The demon threw his microphone forward, just as he had done every time his tentacles came soaring for you. You readied yourself, prepared for the attack, but his tentacles remained still. The demon looked confused, so he did it again, but again, nothing happened. 

He looked at his feet. 

Oh, he wasn’t trying to attack you with his tentacles but with his shadow. The demon was commanding Rolf to attack you. 

The shadow swirled at his feet, and frowned. Rolf actually frowned and then shook his head in refusal. 

Ooooohh, and Alastor was not happy about that. 

“Aaaaah!” The Radio Demon screamed as he slammed his staff down. 

The ground cracked and broke in half, creating a chasm beneath your feet. You jumped just in time, but not fast enough to miss the Hellfire that was released from the earth. The green flames consumed you as you flew skyward, but, like all of Alastor’s other attacks, it did nothing to you. Soaring, you stopped as you reached the rooftops and got a better understanding of where you were. 

You were on the edge of the Magne District and the Bordertown - in other words, you were blocks away from Alastor’s radio tower. As you caught sight of the iron structure, you felt that thing twist in your chest again. So many memories…

Again, the demon went after you, his tentacles propelling him to the rooftop of the building you soared over. His eye twitched, his smile constrained. And as he sent the next round of attacks your way, you felt your will to fight begin to fade. You didn’t dodge as quickly. You didn’t fly with as much vigor. 

He wasn’t going to stop. Alastor wasn’t going to stop…

You’re not sure why you did it; perhaps some part of you was still holding on, but you led him right to the radio tower. 

Landing on the balcony, you slipped your sword into the Void and waited as Alastor made his way up. The demon came to a stop at the other end of the landing, the lights of Pentagram City your backdrop. You put your wings away, your demon form slipping from you until you were just standing in your ripped leather gear. 

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eye as he surveyed you. He thought he had you. God, he looked absolutely mad. You dodged as he swung, staying easily out of his reach as if it were a training exercise. Jesus, you could do this but not dance? 

You looked into his eyes as he attacked you, seeing nothing but steel, a raging fire that had consumed him completely.

And that’s when you realized… Despite the contract you had made ensuring your safety, Alastor was still trying to kill you. 

And your heart shattered. Your steps faltered, giving Alastor the opportunity to knock you to the ground. You didn’t even try to fight him as he climbed atop you, straddling your waist. The demon pulled Velvette’s blade from the Void, forgoing his microphone completely. 

And you let him. 

The Radio Demon held the edge to your throat, his entire body seething in anger and frustration at the object of all of his desires just out of reach. So close, yet so far. 

“You want this more than you want me…” You whispered. 

His mask slipped ever so slightly, his movements freezing as you spoke. 

You gritted your teeth, “Fine. Alastor. You want it so badly, enough to kill me for it, then take it. Fucking, take it.”

You were so stupid. How could you think Alastor would be any different? Everyone in your life you’ve ever cared about ends up disappointing you…

“Alastor Hartfelt, I, Mikaela Morningstar, release you from our contract.”

SNAP!

The connection between you was severed. 

And almost immediately, you felt warmth on your neck, the edge of the blade digging into your flesh just enough to draw golden blood. Alastor’s eyes were instantly drawn to it. The demon gasped. Something behind his gaze shifted at the realization of what you had just done. 

“... And that’s when I decided she was not worthy of your death,” you repeated the words Alastor spoke to you after he saved you from Vox and Velvette, a moment in time when your death had nearly broken him. “No one was. If anyone was going to draw your last breath from these lips, it was going to be me.”

The demon met your gaze, his crazed smile faltering, the fire in his eyes sputtering. 

“Make do on that promise, Radio Demon.” Your voice cracked as the tears streamed down the corners of your eyes. “You’d be doing me a fucking favor.”

A favor… because you’d rather be dead than live with the fact that Alastor would kill you for something so trivial as power. 

He made you care about him. The way he rescued you from Velvette and Vox, how he dotted over you as you healed. He was killing himself with worry when you collapsed the second time. He made jambalaya from his mother’s recipe and spent hours sitting with you on this balcony, watching the City lights. He was worried when you didn’t eat, running straight to you when he heard. He kissed you as it rained, whispering promises in your ear. The demon danced with you in Mardi Gras, bought you a fucking donut, for crying out loud, and told you things about his mother that he never told anyone else. 

Alastor made you fucking care about him, and now he was ripping out your heart and stabbing it with an Angelic blade - literally and metaphorically.

So yes, he’d be doing you a fucking favor because Alastor was killing you either way - slitting your throat was just the much less painful option. 

You closed your eyes and waited for death… 

You had taken so many lives, and yet you had never thought about your own. You never imagined how you might die because, up until recently, you didn’t know you could. 

God, you didn’t know death could be this fucking painful. 

Yet, you welcomed it. There was no afterlife for you to look forward to, which was a blessing. You didn’t have to live with this weight anymore, this burden of existence, of the trauma and torture you have been put through. Finally, you could just cease to be… 

____________________________________________

The moment the golden blood trickled from your neck, Alastor’s mind flashed to the night you killed Val.

The demon had stalked you from the shadows, having heard the explosion all the way from the Doomsday District. He watched from the darkness as you burned Valentino from the inside out, absolutely mesmerized. 

And then Velvette ran her blade across your chest, and golden liquid spewed from the wound onto the concrete. Alastor had never moved so fast in his life. In a blur, he summoned a tentacle and threw a car at Velvette and Vox, stopping them only momentarily but long enough. Then he was at your feet.

SNAP! The golden liquid disappeared, and Ralph shadowed you to the Nothing.

Alastor’s heart rammed so hard against his chest he could hear nothing else, think nothing else as he collected you in his arms. The Radio Demon had never really known true fear before, even as he died he wasn’t afraid. Such a foreign feeling… He didn’t know how to process it. It left his mind blank, his lungs devoid of air, his body aimless as he forced himself to move. 

And then you were on his bed, your golden blood pouring into his red satin sheets. Rolf acted on his own, immediately taking off for Cannibal Town without Alastor even having to command him. The demon collapsed to his knees at the edge of the bed, forcing his claws to untie the dark cloak around your neck, but his damn fingers wouldn’t work! He was shaking so much…

“Oh, my stars!” Rosie melted from the floor, curlers in her hair and wrapped in a pink bathrobe. “Alastor, what is…” She caught sight of you on the bed and the Overlord in full panic next to you. 

Alastor turned to her, desperation swimming in his eyes as he managed to utter two words, “Help me.”

____________________________________________

“Alastor,” Rosie set a steaming cup of tea before him - chai - but Alastor didn’t move to drink it. He couldn’t even pick up the cup. It reminded him too much of the coffee you made him, how you flavored it with chai leaves. It reminded him too much of you. Of the beautiful woman held together by nothing but thread in the next room.

Rosie lay a hand on his arm, moving slowly so as not to startle the demon. He had calmed down immensely but was still shaken up. “Tell me what happened.”

“She went after Valentino,” He swallowed dryly. 

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m asking. I can see the destruction of the Tower from your window. I’m asking what happened to you. I’ve never seen you like that before.” The demon prodded carefully. 

Rosie had asked about you before - attempting to pry information from Alastor. It’s not that she was spying on you. She didn’t need to do that. You told her everything. She wanted to know what Alastor thought of you. A matchmaker from the very beginning - from the moment you stepped foot into her Emporium and ran right into Alastor. 

Alastor looked down at the cup, the leaves of tea swimming around the steaming liquid. “I don’t know. All I know is… It hurt… I hurt…” 

Rosie cooed, “And why do you think that is?”

Alastor was speechless. Nothing coming to mind. He honestly didn’t understand what was happening to him. Why he was feeling the way that he was feeling. He’s never felt so utterly helpless and honestly couldn’t understand why. 

“Darling, let me ask you, cannibal to cannibal, what is the most important organ in the body?” Rosie smiled, her teeth wickedly sharp. 

Of course, Alastor picked the brain - so iconic and representative of his character. 

Rosie giggled. “Oh no, I think my late husband is evidence enough of that. No, dear, it’s the heart. Something so vital that keeps us alive, and yet one tiny little nick and you bleed out and die. And dying hurts, let me tell you.” She shrugged, sipping her tea. 

Rosie let Alastor stew on this for a moment before clearly spelling it out for the Overlord. “You are hurting because the Vees went after your heart.”

____________________________________________

CLANG! 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Alastor looking back at you, tears in eyes of his own. His chin trembled as he cupped your cheeks. Alastor had dropped the blade, the steel clattering between the cracks in the balcony flooring before falling to the street below. 

The demon’s forehead came to rest on your own as his demonic form receded, his green aura fading. “... a drop more might break me.” His voice shook, his words absent of his radio static, his Louisiana accent slipping through. “Rarely am I wrong about something.” He chuckled through a sob. “I just didn’t think it would be by my hand.”

“Alastor…?” You searched his eyes for an explanation. 

“My darling.” A breath. “Ma cherie.” Another. “Mon couer.” Another. “My heart.” 

Alastor’s eyes were glassy. “One cannot live without their heart.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Was he saying what you think he was saying? 

“You choose me?” You asked, hope sparking in your chest. 

The demon smiles softly. “I choose you, mon couer. I choose you…” 

You smiled as you grabbed Alastor by his shirt and pulled him in. Your mouths crashed together.

You can taste the relief on his lips, the solace evident with each swipe of his tongue. Finally, you could allow yourself to simply enjoy the taste of him. Finally, you could simply not think and only feel - no longer weighed down by the troubles plaguing your mind every time he grew close to you.

He knew your name.

He knew your secret.

He knew your power.

He knew everything.

And he had chosen you.

Nothing held the two of you back now, not emotionally or physically.

Alastor broke the kiss, already panting, his chest heaving as it matched yours, “How are your injuries?” His eyes roamed you, searching for active bleeding.

You smirked, “I’m in perfect health thanks to you,” you pulled the collar of your leather gear aside to reveal the injury Velvette gave you, the skin now pink and scarred over.

Alastor ran a finger across the mark, making you shiver beneath him. 

You had much to figure out today, but it could wait. 

The demon smiled, “Good,” he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I believe I made some promises to you that I intend to keep.” 

Alastor dipped lower, and you gasped as his tongue connected with your skin. Alastor traced the outline of the cut on your neck. His forked tongue lapped the golden liquid, not letting a single drop escape. When his lips were wet and sweet with your blood, he leaned back far enough only for you to see his eyes, his pupils blown, “You’re mine,” he breathed. 

Your body shuddered in what might have been a sob, a cry in joy as his lips found yours. 

Finally. Fucking, finally. 

You expected the kiss to be gentle - soft - a kiss that could take its time. After all, you had plenty of that now. But Alastor had warned you - he was not gentle. You moaned into his mouth, the iron tang of your blood on your lips as he crashed into you. The kiss was powerful, threatening to drown you in him completely.

The demon scooped you up in one fluid motion before you were shadowed into his bedroom and placed on red silk sheets.     

The demon had his jacket off, never breaking your connection, before crawling up on you. The demon pushed you back, laying you out on the platter of red, his own personal feast. He pressed himself into you, one leg between your thighs, and you instinctively arched as his warmth soaked into your bones, as he hardened against you. 

Alastor broke the kiss to run his tongue up your cheek, licking the golden liquid that had bled from your now-healed cheek. The demon moaned, his dick throbbing in his pants in response. You took the opportunity to find the buttons of his red suit jacket, popping open the three buttons before diving into the ones on his collared shirt. 

There was something so intimate about undressing him. You could - if you had wanted to - magicked the clothes away, but where was the fun in that? There were layers to Alastor’s outfit, layers you wanted to peel back one by one; it was a privilege to do so. In a way, you felt like you had earned that privilege, and you were going to take advantage of every moment of it. 

Al pulled back, surveying your face. He ran a hand through your silver locks as they splayed out across his sheets, pushing it aside from your neck where bruises once decorated your skin. His eyes lit up, almost as if they were screaming, mine, all mine, before his lips found your neck. 

Oh, if you thought his kisses were intense before, it was nothing compared to now. Alastor held nothing back, his canines nipping at your skin till he drew blood. The pain was a beautiful burn that made your head dizzy. His tongue licked away the gold, soothing the erotic pain pooling in your core. You gasped as his hands found your hips and tugged.

He wanted your clothes off. 

SNAP!

Your leathers disappeared, leaving behind nothing but your bra and underwear. The armor didn’t have zippers or ties, it wasn’t meant to be slipped on and off, but you wanted Alastor to undress you. You wanted to feel his claws as they scraped across your skin and slid your underwear down your legs…

Alastors hand found the waistband of your underwear. The demon chuckled against your neck, after stealing a glance. “Such a naughty little thing.”

You may have changed into your favorite pair of undergarments, a dangerous matching set of silk. All in red, just for him. 

Alastor bit your neck, hard, not a full on bite, but a nibble that made you gasp. You arched up into him, his knee between your thighs. With one hand thrusted into your hair, the other went to your bra, to cup the swell of your breast. 

The demon had perfectly sized hands, your breasts a matching handful. You cried out as he squeezed. Goosebumps rise on your skin as the demon’s mouth travels south, his lips trailing to the swell of your breasts. His claws scraped across your skin, finding the strap of the garment and slowly lowered it over your shoulder. You arched, prompting him to slide both hands behind your back as he smiled up at you, his eyes promising to do terribly wonderful things to you. 

Then your bra was off, and his mouth was on your breast, and he sucked, his tongue flicking your nipple. You plunged your fingers into his hair, wrapping them around his locks. Your finger lightly brushed his ears, and the demon growled, his mouth on your breast, his hips bucking instinctively. 

Alastor pulled back despite your bark of protest - that turned into a gasp as the demon backed off the bed, wrapped his arms around your hips, and tugged. He yanked you to the edge before violently ripping off your underwear. 

Your cheeks heated as Alastor kneels before you, his face mere inches from your heat as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.

He was kneeling. The all and powerful Alastor Hartfelt was on his knees for you. No one would ever believe you…

And then he sinks two fingers inside you, all the way up to his first knuckle. You cry out, your breath stuck in your throat as your nails dig into his sheets. He slides his fingers out slowly, then shoves in hard again, practically pushing you back up the bed. 

“Oh, my - Al!” 

Alastor cuts you off with his mouth, his tongue licking your clit and setting you on fire. Instinctively, your toes curl, and your body pulls in on itself, but Alastor’s claw digs into the meat of your hip, keeping you spread open as he thrusts his fingers in again, his mouth feasting on your juices. 

Digging your nails in tighter, you swear you rip the fabric, trying to hold on. 

The demon chuckles as your next gasp turns into a moan. God, it was like Alastor was punishing you, dominating you, a relentless force pent on overpowering you in every sense of the word. 

You swore you'd never bow before another again, never let another command you, but for Alastor, you'd gladly fall to your knees if he asked.

The pressure was starting to build. Fuck, the last time this happened, you leveled a building.

“Alastor,” you choked out.   

But the demon didn’t stop, didn’t even come up for air. Alastor pulls his fingers almost all the way out before thrusting them fully in. 

“Al-”

The demon glares at you, a gleam in his eye. He wanted to push you over the edge and was not going to stop, no matter what. 

Shit. Shit. Shit!

He picks up the pace, his fingers constantly roaming in and out, his mouth working in tandem quickly working you up towards your climax.

Your head is gone now, your breathes in gasps with each pump of his fingers, each swipe of his tongue. The demon bites down on your clit between his upper teeth and lower lip. A wave of pain has you teetering.

“Al!” You scream as, on the last thrust, Alastor curls his fingers, hitting that wonderful bundle of nerves that has you flying over the edge. You arch up as spasms overcome your body, as Alastor continues to pump and continues to ride you through your high.

Be damned if you burned this place to the ground. It was worth it.

Your inner walls clench around his fingers, your entire body tensing up. Heat floods through you as you pant, breathless and dizzy. 

Alastor doesn’t stop until your back finds the sheets again, until your twitching has slowed, and your breathing has normalized. 

This entire thing feels like a dream as Alastor stands, untucks his shirt, and takes off his belt. 

“No,” you squeak out, your body and mind numb with pleasure.

Alastor freezes.

“I want to,” you practically beg, reaching out a hand. 

The demon chuckles, his face in his hands. 

Wait. 

You sit up, your mind sobering as you whip your gaze across the room. “It’s not on fire?” 

Alastor’s smile kicks up in a sideways grin, “It’s not.”

You shoot him a questioning look. You don’t know how this is happening, but you know Alastor had something to do with it. A rune? Some sort of mark in his Voodoo? 

The demon answers your question with a chuckle as he climbs atop you. Alastor’s arms frame your face, his smile lighting up yours as he towers over you. His locks were like a halo of red around his face, his antlers a few prongs larger than you remember. 

You’re so captivated by a half shirtless Alastor towering over you that you completely forget what you were supposed to do.

He pauses, his breath hot on your lips, “well?”

Well? Oh! Yes. 

Hesitantly, your fingers find his belt as you continue what he had started. Your heart is ramming against your chest, your hands suddenly very sweaty. Get it together. He’s made you orgasm twice now. You’re sitting beneath him, in his bed, wearing nothing. Why were you so nervous? 

You paused at the button of his pants. 

“Al, I… I’ve never…” You met his gaze and hoped your eyes communicated the rest of what you were trying to say. 

His cheeks turned pink, “We move at your pace, mon couer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was giving you time for your mind to catch up with the rest of you. 

First, thing’s first…

You force your fingers to move again and help him slide his shirt off. And then you don’t want to stop touching him. Alastor was so soft, the short fur along his torso and arms like the down coat of a fawn. It was longer around his chest, producing a fluff you were already making plans for. To spend your night sleeping on his chest…

You traced his scars, each old and grey, marking his beautiful ashen skin. Then you found the mark over his chest, the run of Transformare just over his heart. You traced the outline of it. 

“My favorite one,” he smiled. 

And that gave you the bravery to continue on. You shot up, your lips crashing into his as your fingers undid the button of his pants and began to tug down. Alastor laid you back out as he pulled off his pants and underwear in one swoop. 

You gasped as the demon pressed onto you, his cock perfectly lining up with your folds. The demon ground his hips against you, coating his shaft in your juices, hitting your throbbing clit. Your mouth went dry at the sheer size of him. You wanted him, wanted every glorious inch of him in you.  

And then you're drowning again as he kisses you, his thrusts harder and faster as he grinds atop you, Alastor the ocean wave which was pulling you deeper and deeper. And you gladly drowned. He rocks back on his hips, stealing the heat of his cock before he lines himself up, his tip pressing against your opening, and pauses. 

He was waiting for you. 

In response, you wrapped your legs around his thin waist. They sat perfectly at the crest of his hips, almost as if they were made for you, for this. The demon growled as you kissed him, and you laughed.

And then he slid in. And in. And in. Until his hips were flush with yours. Your nails dug into the muscle of his back, making the demon growl. 

Jesus, he had your eyes watering; it was like your body forgot how to breathe. He stilled, letting you adjust.     

“Are you alright?” Alastor was out of breath, his voice raspy and absent of static, as his forehead found yours, clearly bombarded with the same wave of emotions you had been. 

You nod as you pull him down on top of you. You wanted to feel Alastor, to feel his warmth, to feel his chest heaving against yours, to feel the muscles in his abbs as he thrusts into you. You have been starved for touch for so long that you have become desperate - desperate and greedy. 

The demon moved slowly, pulling out slightly before pressing back in. His hips stuttered, “Satan,” he choked. “You’re tight.”

Again, he pulled back, then thrust in. The demon fisted one hand in your hair, the other coming to rest behind your thigh, giving himself leverage as he moved. 

And as Alastor moved, his forehead on yours as you kissed, your breath building as you huffed through your noses, it became easier. It became pleasurable. It became faster, deeper. 

It made you hungry for more.

“Fuck me,” you breathe between moans. “Fuck me, Alastor.”

A fire sparks in his eyes as his hands sink to your ass. The demon has your legs wrapped around him, and off the bed, your back pressed against the wood head rest as he fills you. Every inch, every hard ridge. Alastor’s teeth find your bottom lip, and he bites down as he slams into you with enough force, that the bed shakes. 

Your moan is on the edge of a scream as blood fills your mouth. Alastor’s tongue laps at your lips, at your tongue, devouring the tangy liquid flooding your mouth and dribbling down your chin. The cannibal is determined not to waste a single drop as he feasts. You wrap your arms around his neck and hang on for dear life, your nails digging into his skin, just exciting him even more. 

There is nothing gentle about the Radio Demon - no wonder he wanted to wait, no wonder he held himself back all those nights ago. He surely would have split you in two had you begged him to try.  

But it would have been so worth it. 

Your veins sang beneath your skin with the build of your climax, your heart beating in time with Alastor’s. 

The demon released a hand to find your clit, circling as he thrusts. Immediately, you’re toeing the edge, your moans choked screams, as Alastor picks up the pace, sweat licking your bodies. 

Alastor’s claws dig into the meat of your hip as pulls you down on him with every thrust, as he buries himself over and over again, the tip of his cock brushing the entrance of your cervix. You’re there, you’re at the edge…

“I’m close!” You breathe, every edge of you burning with pleasure. You’re so wet, you’re dripping down his balls as he sinks into you. 

Not yet. No. You want to linger. You want to savor this. Every second of it. 

And then Alastor’s lips find your neck, and he bites. The pain sends you over the edge, and you scream as the orgasm tears through your body. Alastor continues to pound into you, hard and fast, drawing out your pleasure. The demon grows harder, more frenzied with his movements, and then he’s roaring as he slams into you to the hilt, spilling inside you. 

Alastor growls as his dick throbs against your clenching inner walls, milking him of every last drop. And then Alastor slows as he collapses into you, his head resting on your shoulder as he slowly thrusts in and out, his body spasming with pleasure.

And then there is silence, interrupted only by your panting breaths. 

When your souls finally return to your bodies, you take Alastor’s face in yours. The dreamy, drunk look on his face has your heart soaring. No one has ever seen Alastor like that. You’ve earned the privilege to see him like this.  

Alastor rocks in and out of you in slow, languid thrusts, like he’s savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

“Mon couer,” he breathes before he kisses you, long and slow. 

You giggle, just as high as him, “mine.”

The demon freezes, giving you a look as if he didn’t hear you right. 

“I choose you, too, Alastor. You’re mine.” You beam before kissing him. His mouth is unmoving for a second before he kisses you back. The demon digs his hips into you, sinking his head in till it hits your cervix - you swear to God!

The demon lays you back down on the bed.

“I’m yours,” he smiles against your lips, and then he swallows your gasp as he thrusts again. “I’m yours, mon couer, only yours.” 

Alastor’s mouth trails down your jaw, across the bruises forming on your throat. You moan when his tongue finds the bite, the mark he used to claim you, the soreness that now represents everything. The demon uses his tongue to outline the mark, the golden blood now clotting. 

With the taste of you on his lips, the demon was growing hard again, his dick throbbing inside of you as he stroked slowly. 

This time is different. This time Alastor is slow, his fingers bunching in your hair but not tearing, his lips kissing you deeply, his mouth drunk on your taste. You breathed Alastor in as your tongue lazily played with his, as your hips moved in time with his strokes. 

This wasn’t just him claiming you. This was Alastor promising you. This was him pledging to be yours and only yours, to be all the things he was scared of being, to devote his very being in honor of you. 

And you could feel it. You could feel his growing desire. It wasn’t just in the pounding of his heart or the way his breath quickened as it mixed with yours but somehow sank into your bones. 

If your magic could be summoned as it had whenever Alastor’s lips were on yours, the colors of your magic would be singing right now. Their masterpiece a demonstration of the vow he was making you. 

You let your hands wander over every hard ridge of him. Outlining his pecs, the defined abbs on his torso, the strength in his shoulders. To his cut jawline and soft hair. You played with his locks as Alastor continued to thrust in you, your quick breaths turning to moans. 

It was slow, it was passionate, it was intense. 

Alastor breaks the kiss to decorate your neck, marking his territory, the bruises proof that this was real. Your gaze falls to where the two of you are connected, his shaft pulling away with both of your juices, turning his dick white with cum.

Oh, God the way he filled you with his cum…

You clench around him at the memory of the feeling, making the demon’s hips stutter, eliciting a growl that vibrates from his chest through yours. 

You can’t help but smile as you kiss him. The power you had over him, over his body…

Alastor responds by thrusting harder. 

CRACK! 

The bed breaks, and the next thing you know, the two of you are rolling off the side. Alastor takes the brunt of the fall, pulling you into him as his back smacks against the wooden floor. 

“Al, are you -?” 

The demon interrupts your question with a laugh. It was so genuine and absent of his usual radio static that it catches you off guard before you’re laughing right along with him. 

And then the two of you realize something: you were on top. 

You blink at each other a moment, registering what this means, but Alastor doesn’t make an attempt to move you. Instead, he grabs your hips and guides you up and down his cock. It’s awkward at first - you’ve literally never done this before - but you eventually find a rhythm that has the two of you moaning all over again.

Regardless of the position, Alastor was still in control, which was a relief - your lack of experience was frankly embarrassing. 

You dig your fingers into his fluff, using it as leverage as you bounce up and down. You can feel the wetness pooling out of you and dribbling down his cock. 

From this position you could fully appreciate Alastor, disheveled and overwhelmed by you. His chest is heaving, his hips bucking up into you, deepening the muscles on his torso. 

God, it was a beautiful sight. 

The demon reaches up and wraps his fist in your hair before using it to pull your lips down to his. His claws dig into your other hip as his thrusts quicken, as he pounds into you.

And then he’s spilling into you all over again, his warm seed filling you and then sliding down his cock. The orgasm surprises you, overtaking your body without warning. 

God, the feeling of being filled was enough to drive you over the edge. 

You collapsed on Alastor, your face in the fluff of his chest as he thrust, your orgasm milking every ounce of his seed. 

And when his hips finally slowed, Alastor collapsed fully, his hands coming to rest in your hair and on your back. The two of you lay there for a long time, not minding the mess you had just made, your minds and bodies too numb to fully comprehend anything but the aftershock of pleasure. 

You breathed him in, letting his scent of forest and musk prolong your ecstasy. The room danced in the flavor of warm vanilla, evidence of what you had just done wafting out the slightly ajar back door. The curtains were down, so no one could see in. 

When Alastor somehow found the ability to move again, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Mon couer?” 

“Hmm?” You hummed, dreamily snaking your head up to meet his half-lidded gaze through your curtain of hair. You were sleepy and oh-so-content. You could fall asleep right there on the floor and sleep for days if he let you. 

“How about a bath?” As if on cue, the sound of a faucet turning creaked from the bathroom. Running water could be heard echoing through the tile walls. 

You giggled, nodding. 

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you. You whimpered at the sudden empty feeling, the loss of warmth that was purely Alastor filling your core. It was a feeling you were instantly missing.

The demon carried you to the tub, now steaming and filled with bubbles. He gently sat you in before climbing in behind you, letting you lay against him as he washed you. 

The fluff on his chest was like a pillow as you lay there, drowning in the scent of his shampoo. It was like being on sensory overload, except the only sense was Alastor. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Alastor took his time massaging your limbs, easing the tension from your muscles. He inspected every healed cut and new scar he had never seen before until he was satisfied that you were fine and really and truly in one piece. He even took the time to wash your hair, his claws scraping against your scalp as he scrubbed. You hummed in delight, bringing a genuine smile to Alastor’s face. 

The wash was more cathartic for Alastor than it was for you. For him, he needed this. After you almost died, he needed to see you be strong again. He needed to see you at your highest before he could heal from seeing you at your lowest. And, as if to solidify it in his brain that this wasn’t a dream, and you were really and truly alive, he needed to inspect you himself - and he also did get satisfaction at seeing the new marks which he had left on your body. The slowly darkening bruises and bites he had left behind… 

The narcissist… 

When he finished with you, he washed himself. You were practically asleep when he finished - although he did do his best not to disturb you as much as he could. The demon slowly slid out from behind you to grab you a towel. It took some coaxing, but he finally got you to stand on your own as he wrapped you in the soft cotton. 

When you returned to bed, you found it perfectly made, with fresh sheets and fluffed pillows. The foot on his bed frame had snapped during your endeavors, but Alastor had it repaired while you bathed. You’d sleep soundly in a level bed tonight. 

Soft jazz clicked on as Alastor tucked you in before sliding in himself. You curled into the demon, who had crawled into bed with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, immediately seeking his warmth. 

Alastor rarely slept, but today was an exception…

With your head on his chest, your feet tangled in his, and his arms wrapped around you, you felt complete. 

And the two of you dozed off into slumber to the words of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.” 

Okay, Hoteliers, why did I do this? Why not have Alastor never attack Mikaela in the first place? Why didn’t he just drop the knife and kiss her, and then I write a chapter filled with some seriously overdo smut? Because there was still one thing about Alastor that had not been challenged yet - in the fanfic and in canon. Yes, Alastor had fallen for the reader, but there was still this giant thing hanging over their heads that they did not address, which needed to be hit upon in order for the two of them to finally accept their feelings for each other. What would Alastor do if something/someone he loved more than power stood in the way of him achieving it? You, as Mikaela, already made that decision when you killed Eve - you’d do anything. Yet, deep down, you knew you couldn’t do it to Alastor - you, as the reader, had decided that without me even having to write it. You were literally screaming in the comments about it as you read chapter thirteen.

Yet Alastor had never been asked that question. So we needed to see what he would do. Given the opportunity, he needed to be forced to choose, and he needed to see that that choice would have consequences. That's why I needed Alastor to stab you, to go after you, to draw blood. Why go to such lengths? Because Alastor is a stubborn, stubborn man, and changing him would not be an easy thing to do, especially when it is something so central to his character. I mean, he's a cannibalistic murderer; how much more literal does Viv need to get about his desire to consume power? Being forced to choose was not only about you but about him as well. In the writing business, we call it ~character development~.

So no, I couldn't simply have Alastor drop the knife and whisk you away into a fairytale. This moment, this part of Alastor, posed an obstacle for me: a giant wall preventing me from continuing on. I needed Alastor to grow, to unlock that part of himself that let you in, choose you over everything else, and for him to accept that.  

Don't worry, we still have more to go - they still have to learn why they are both at the Hotel, what their involvements are with Lilith, and what Mikaela’s big endgame actually is, but that stuff is trivial compared to their cannibalistic desire for power - especially considering Mikaela is Roo, the embodiment of it. I mean, that’s how this fanfic all started, right? “Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…”  And I think it’s important to remember that because it will be a theme through to the end of this fic. 

<3 Stay smutty Hoteliers - smut is coming next chapter. You’ve earned it ;)

-> Chapter Fifteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

I Love You, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, violent murder but not described in depth, possessive behavior, obsession, loss and anxiety, light smut, manhandling of the reader by Din

Word Count: 4,500

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Sequel to 'Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika'

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"i am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me."

.

It wasn’t until the second half of your first hour trapped that you realized the chain around your ankle wasn’t just metal. It was beskar. The links branched together were long enough to allow you to walk to the neighboring bathroom, but not long enough to reach the door out. The horror of your situation was truly settling into your very soul. Din had locked you away. Din. The man you loved. And the worst part, as if any of this could possibly be worse, was the fact that he only knew you had tried to run away hours ago.

When exactly did he have this chain made?

You spent the rest of your morning trying to rip the chain out of the wall where it was connected to no avail, and when that didn’t work you somehow tried to pull your ankle out of the clasp. It was impossible. The clasp was just tight enough on your skin that you would not be slipping it unless you started considering something much more dramatic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You tugged and screamed until your ankle was discolored and your throat was raw.

Then you broke. Quite some time ago, before your extensive Jedi training, you had quite the temper. It took years for you to get a handle on controlling it, but these last few months the frustration and worry had slowly whittled down your very being. So, for the first time in a very long time, you threw a tantrum. You knocked over the nightstand by your bed, hurling every single item you could reach, and destroyed everything that was in your path. 

When you were spent, exhausted from the emotional and physical turmoil, you slumped against the wall panting for breath. Your legs splayed out in front of you so you could glare at the beskar that wrapped around your ankle. You felt so pathetic and vulnerable. It didn’t help that you only wore your undergarments and one of Din’s shirts. It had been what you fell asleep in last night while curled up to the man who chained you to a wall.

The bedroom door opened and Din froze in the doorway. You watched his eyes scan the room in shock before they landed on you. He let out a breath of disbelief, “Cyar’ika.”

“I don’t think I want you to call me that right now.” You said.

Din’s shoulders slumped and he had the audacity to look hurt at your words. As if he hadn’t chained you to a fucking wall. He stepped into the room and shrugged out of his robe⏤ tossing it onto the bed as he neared. Din’s eyes landed on your ankle and his eyes widened. “Me’bana!?” He knelt down to take hold of your ankle, but you tried to pull your legs in to avoid his touch. Din, refusing your refusal, grabbed you by the calf and dragged you toward him.

“Get off!” You barked and kicked out at him. 

Din pinned you to the floor using his weight to keep your hips down and a hand to pin your wrists above your head. The emotion on his face as he stared down at you was not one of anger or even frustration. It was desperate. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. Dank farrik, you already have. Don’t make it worse.”

“You think I care?” You spat your words at him, squirming. “I don’t! I’ll do what I have to if it means⏤”

Din’s other hand snapped up to grab you by the jaw. His fingers pressed into your cheek, not painful but firm, and his face darkened. Anger finally seeped into his features. “I said, stop. I know you’re upset, I know you’re angry with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you hurt yourself.” You sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. Hand still on your jaw. Din’s eyes closed as he spoke. “You are going to sit still while I take care of you. Understand? This is not up for debate, cyar’ika.”

You didn’t respond. Refused to. Din let out a soft sigh before releasing your jaw and wrists. He sat up and pulled his weight off of you. Slowly, you sat up and chose to just sit there. He pulled his gloves off, tossing them aside in the mess you had already made of the room, and with a tender touch he pulled your leg into his lap. Din’s warm fingers shifted the beskar so he could peer at the skin beneath it. He hissed at the sight of your already forming bruises⏤ the discoloration would be worse tomorrow.

“Cyar’ika⏤”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Din shook his head. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Myself?” You scoffed. “You’re the one who put me in chains, Din!”

“To keep you⏤”

“Safe?” You finished for him, but you spat the word bitterly. Din wilted and continued to carefully trace your sore skin. It bothered you that his touch brought you comfort, but that wasn’t something you could just turn off. “When did you have this chain made, Din?” He didn’t reply. “It’s made of beskar. You didn’t just swing out and pick it up. You had it made. When did you⏤”

“Three weeks ago.” Din kept his eyes downcast, glued to your ankle. You took in a sharp breath. It would have been less painful, less shocking, if Din had just reached out and slapped you. Three weeks ago? How long did he have this planned? His warm brown eyes met yours⏤ a gaze you had always been weak to. Your face must have shown your betrayal because Din squeezed your calf softly. “I never planned to use it. I never wanted to use it.”

“But you did.” You mumbled the words out.

Din winced. “I know, cyar’ika. I know. I’m sorry. You will never understand how sorry I am⏤ I will spend the rest of my life trying to remind you. I⏤” He sighed and his thumb traced lazy circles against your skin where it sat. “More than anything though, my love, I need to protect you. I cannot lose you. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“You’re losing me right now, baby.” You shook your head. Tears springing up. “You’re breaking my heart, you’re losing my trust⏤” Din squeezed his eyes shut. Pained and devastated. “How do you think this will end?”

“You will understand. One day.” Din said firmly. He spoke like he was trying to convince himself of this. “Until then, I am just doing what is necessary.” Din rose to find the first aid kit and when he returned you just stared at him. He knelt down once more and wrapped padding around your ankle so the metal wasn’t touching bare skin anymore. When he was satisfied with how it looked, he carefully held your arms and pulled you up to stand. Din cupped your face with his hands, setting a tender kiss on the top of your head before choosing to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you, cyar’ika.”

This wasn’t love, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that.

The only times you were unchained from the wall was when you were with Din. He’d take your hand in his and the two of you would wander down the halls or outside of the castle. Always two Mandalorian guards lingering behind you both. You had one arm looped through Din’s. His thick robe draped over your shoulders once more. 

“Bo thinks offering an olive branch would make us seem weak. I’m inclined to agree with her.” Din thought aloud. Most of these walks were him talking to you about his day. You didn’t offer much more than the occasional hum or a snide comment if he pressed too hard. That’s what two weeks of being chained like an animal could do to you. “We have more power than them. It wouldn’t be too difficult to overtake them.”

You hummed. Din glanced down at you and his arm squeezed around yours. There was hope shining in his eyes as if he was eager to hear you offer any sort of commentary. You focused your gaze forward. “The Din I fell in love with wouldn’t jump head first into a war.” His steps stuttered. “He’d try for peace.”

“Cyar’ika.” Din came to a slow stop and turned to face you. His other hand lifted to rest on yours. It trapped your hand against his forearm. “I am the man you fell in love with. That has not changed.” Your eyes darted down to the darksaber hanging from his belt. Din sighed. “This is still about the saber?”

You shook your head. “It always will be. That damned saber has changed you.”

“It hasn’t⏤”

“It has!” You yanked your arm away from his and took a step back. Anger flaring once more. “I keep telling you. It’s poison.” The energy that surrounded it felt suffocating, but it had only gotten worse these last few days. The possession was still there and now it’s tendrils seemed to be trying to seep out into your very soul. As if it could convince you that it had good intentions. “It’s me or the darksaber, Din.” 

He shook his head and you shoved him once in the chest. He barely stumbled back. The Mandalorian guards leapt forward, hands on their weapons in preparation to take out the threat against their King, but Din threw his arm out to stop them. The glare he leveled in their direction was deadly. They both took sheepish steps away. Din focused back on you and the anger in his eyes dissipated back into despair. “You can’t make me choose.” He sighed. “We’ve talked about this. I need the darksaber to keep you safe.”

“We’re just going to argue in circles forever, aren’t we?” You sighed.

Din stepped closer and caressed your face. He leaned in to capture you in a kiss, but you turned at the last second so his lips pressed against your cheek instead. Since the morning you woke up with a beskar anklet, you hadn’t let Din touch you. The first night he slipped into bed behind you, just to sleep, and you had lost your mind. Now, he slept on the small couch that was pushed against the wall in your living space. He pulled back enough that his lips were no longer touching you, but he didn’t stray far.

“I love you, cyar’ika.”

He truly believed it, but obsession⏤ possession⏤ was not love.

At the month mark, you knew things needed to change. Din was too stubborn to concede. He’d keep you chained to that fucking wall forever. So, you started small. You had to play this smart. It began with little things like thanking him when he brought you food or new gifts. Choosing to participate in conversations when the two of you went on walks around the palace. A lingering touch here and there when you were able, and you never shied away from his own touch.

Still, a sudden change in demeanor would give you away. Din, as blinded as he was by the darksaber, was not an idiot. He’d see through your act in seconds, and the fate of his and your life depended on deceiving him. You had to get off this rock. You had to get to help. After thinking about it long and hard, you decided you needed to get to Skywalker. The other Jedi were your best bet. It was just a matter of getting there.

Oddly, your saving grace came in the form of an attack.

Because Din never kept you fully in the loop of the things happening in Mandalore, you weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Being chained to the wall when the explosions started did not help either. For the first fifteen minutes of the disaster all you could do was stand in place, frozen, while straining to listen. Eventually, the explosions stopped, but it was replaced with yelling and thundering footsteps. Not a good sign. As it got closer and closer you searched the room for a weapon or hiding the place. You wouldn’t fit under the bed and even if you hid in the bathroom there would be a chain lying on the floor leading straight to you.

The yelling came right out the door and you didn’t even have time to register the language or tone before the door itself was kicked open. Pirates. That was your best guess. Three men dressed for a fight stepped into your space. Two humans and one Trandoshan. They spoke a language you didn’t recognize, something from the Outer Rims, but even when addressing you they never swapped to Basic. One of the humans took a step closer, smirking, and you shifted to a ready stance. The last time you had felt so ill prepared for a fight was back when you first began your Jedi training. 

Even on a good day, back before Din spiraled into his current state, you were not good at using the Force. Reading energies was your strength, but healing and telekinesis was never your forte. Now? Being as stressed and buried in negative energy as you were, it was nearly non-existent. Every day you spent around the  darksaber you felt further from the Force for some Maker forsaken reason. The Force you recognized, at least.

The Trandoshan began to rummage through the room scavenging, but the two human men were still approaching you. They laughed and motioned to the chain around your ankle as they spoke to one another. Cautiously, you took a few steps back so the chain’s tension wouldn’t accidentally catch you. When the first man lunged you met him halfway with an uppercut into his throat. It was a blur of muscle memory and desperation from then. You weren’t doing well, you were surviving, but when one of the men got their hands on the chain they were able to pull your legs out from under you. 

You roughly landed on your back with a grunt, but the other man was quick to pin you down. You thrashed and screamed trying to get loose, but the other just piled on. Their voices were grating, their laughs sent chills down your spine, and their touch made you nauseous. It all boiled into an uncontrollable rage that slipped from your body with a roar. Suddenly, both men were blown clear across the room. You sat up, breathing hard, and glanced down at your hands. Had you just…? There was no time to puzzle through the power that just flowed from you because the Trandoshan leapt across the room to tackle and pin you back to the floor. 

He didn’t have a firm grip on you, and you were able to flip over on him. The victory was short lived when he threw his elbow back, crushing your nose, and you cried out in pain before falling back. The other two men had risen once more, but all of you froze at the terrible roar that echoed down the hall and filled the room with a suffocating tension. It called out your name. You recognized that voice. 

In that one moment, a feral pleasure gripped your soul and allowed your anger to roam free. You grinned up at the men, teeth bloody from your broken nose, “You’re fucked.”

Din stalked into the room, seconds later, and he was possessed by his own rage. The darksaber glowed in his hands, as bright as a burning flame, and it cast terrifying shadows across his face which was twisted in hatred⏤ in bloodlust. With the first swing of the saber, the men knew they were not going to bode well and they began to plead, but their words fell on deaf ears. You watched as Din tore them to shreds, a force to be reckoned with, and a sick grin flickered across your features before you could reign it back. Din was leaving the men in literal pieces, brutal in his attack and inflicting the most terror and pain he could manage before taking a life, and you felt a bubbling pleasure building in your chest.

It was only when his warpath was finished, when he deactivated the saber, that your smile fell. The tendrils of pleasure that had seeped into your very soul with watching the love of your life murder on your behalf slipped away. You took in a sharp breath. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck had you⏤ Your hands began to tremble followed quickly by the rest of your body.

“Cyar’ika.” Din gasped and crossed through the carnage to pull you off the ground and into his arms. His panicked words all came out in a rush of Mando’a before he was calm enough to ask once more in Basic. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” His gloves wiped away the blood as he examined your nose. “Are you⏤”

“I’m fine.” You replied shakily, but you felt far from it. Physically, there was nothing wrong. Not really. Your nose would heal, the bruises you garnered in the fight would fade. But mentally, spiritually, emotionally… Your eyes drifted down to the darksaber on his belt. What was it doing to you? It took a moment to realize Din was still talking. You shook your head. “What?”

“I said that was the last of them. They came for revenge, but most of the damage was external. Only a few small groups got into the palace.” Din’s hands were petting your hair. Between every word of comfort he’d lean forward and press his lips to your face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Focus. Focus. Back to the plan. Back to your mission.

“No.” You swallowed roughly. “I need the chain off.” Din didn’t respond. He just stared at you with wide eyes filled with the fear of a man who had nearly lost the person he swore to protect. You lifted your hands to cup his face and you shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not losing me. I’m not losing you. You were right.” You pushed the words out and the tears that fell from your eyes were painfully real. You cried for how lost you felt. It was like you were stuck in quicksand and the more you struggled the deeper you were pulled to it’s dark depths. “I was so scared. I couldn’t fight back. Din⏤”

Din didn’t hesitate. He knelt down and pulled a key from the pouch in his belt to unclasp the metal around your ankle. Hearing it clatter to the ground, feeling the weight drop off, had you sucking in a breath of shock and relief. Din slowly rose once more and you found yourself lost in his eyes⏤ those pretty brown eyes that made you forget every single worry you had. The warm brown eyes that brought you comfort in your lowest moments. The loving brown eyes that gazed at you in worship. 

“Stay with me.” You mumbled and cupped his face again.

Din turned his head to press a kiss against your hand. “I’m not going anywhere, cyar’ika.”

Your fingers tightened around him and a shuddering sob left your lips. “Do you love me?” Din looked affronted by the question. His mouth fell open, but you cut him off. “Baby, just listen, if you love me you’ll put the saber away for tonight.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a hiccup left your lips. “Please, baby, just tonight. I just want you. I want only you.”

Din took a slow breath and then took a step out from your grasp. Fear struck you at first, but Din simply crossed the room to his locked chest which sat in the corner. Slowly, he unlatched each piece of his armor and set it carefully into the chest. When he was left with only his flight suit, Din grasped the darksaber and held it in his bare hand for a moment. Finally, he set it into the chest and closed it. The cursed item was just tucked away, out of sight, but it still made a difference. The unrecognizable dark energy that had been plaguing you seemed to disperse and a familiar sensation filled your chest. It was the Force you recognized. For the first time in a month, you felt like you could breathe.

He walked back to where you stood and settled a soft and hesitant hand on the side of your face, “I do love you, cyar’ika. I know this has been difficult and you haven’t been happy.” Din looked heartbroken as he stared down at you. “But you are everything to me.”

This may have started as just a plan to ease him into a lull of security, but that had been forgotten as you stared up at him. For this one second you felt like yourself, and Din felt like himself. A swell of love overwhelmed you and you pushed closer to capture his lips with yours. Din sighed into the kiss, but before you could deepen it he pulled back. “Din?”

“We don’t have to do this, cyar’ika.” Din whispered. “You were just attacked, stressed, and⏤ This⏤ This isn’t… I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.” You shook your head and it was the absolute truth. Right now, Din felt like the man you loved. Maybe it was weak of you to cave, weak of you to seek out his comfort, but you missed him. You craved him. “I want you, and as long as you want me⏤”

Din brought his lips back to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck, as he softly kissed you. Every minute movement filled with adoration. You wrapped your arms around his neck to draw yourself closer to him. Pulling back to catch a breath, he left a trail of kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Cyar’ika, I always want you.” His hands settled on your hips to bring you flush against him. “I always need you.”

Your hands grew frantic wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours. Just like in a fight, you didn’t need to think. Loving him was muscle memory. You peeled the upper half of his flight suit off his body and he took gasping breaths as you broke away from his kiss to caress the scarred skin of his torso. Your nails lightly raked over the skin overlying his ribs as you leaned in to press soft kisses against every scar you could find. Din trembled at your touch, a breathless gasp tearing ragged from his lips. 

His own hands lifted to tilt your face up so he could lean down and start a tender kiss. Every slow, languid motion was one born of love rather than lust. There was an innocence to the brushes of skin against skin, and for this one moment nothing existed but you and Din. Not the poisonous darksaber buried in a chest or the corpses of the men that meant you harm. As Din picked you up and pinned you into the bed, his weight pressing into you, all that mattered was Din Djarin.

“I love you, cyar’ika.” Din murmured into the skin of your neck⏤ his face buried there as his hands roamed your body with a familiarity born of routine. “I love you so much, cyar’ika.”

Your heart felt so full, and you wondered if you were the one confused on the extent of what the word love could mean.

Din laughed and you lightly shoved him in the side.

“It’s not funny. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, cyar’ika.” He replied as you grinned. “I’m laughing with you.”

“Yeah, I’m not laughing, you ass.”

He continued to chuckle and you shook your head before looping your arm back through his and leaning against him. Mandalore had been relatively calm since the attack two weeks ago, and you had never felt closer to Din. What had you been so worried about? The two of you were safe and had one another. That was all that mattered at the end of the day. You had misjudged the darksaber’s energy. That possession was just another form of loyalty. It brought you and Din the strength to protect one another. A bond. That’s all it was.

“My Mand’alor.”

Din’s feet paused, bringing you to a stop as well, and you both turned to face a Mandalorian who now knelt before the both of you. The woman held a hand across her chest in pledge. Din didn’t motion for the woman to rise, but hummed for her to continue. 

“Our allies who have settled on Concordia are requesting aid currently. Raiders have been plaguing them the last few weeks, but now they are beginning to edge in on the main settlement.”

“Concordia has the means to defend itself...” Din replied.

You squeezed his arm and he glanced down at you. You shook your head. “Concordia is not Mandalore, they’re just allies that⏤ like you said⏤ have their own resources.” Nonchalantly, you shrugged. “We have to protect our own. Any aid we offer to them is taken from our own walls. Our city should come first, Din.”

Din lifted your hand to plant a kiss on the back of it. “Could not have said it better myself, cyar’ika.” He motioned for the Mandalorian to be on her way before the two of you continued down the hall. Only a few yards later, Din chuckled. “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, do you?” You asked with a smirk.

He pulled you to a stop once more “Close your eyes.” 

“Really?”

Din raised an eyebrow at you and you playfully rolled your eyes before closing them and holding your hands out. You heard the sound of shuffling as Din moved. A beat later something warm settled in your palms and you sucked in a sharp breath at the overwhelming flood of emotions that bared down on you. Your eyes opened to first see Din’s excited and loving smile, but then your gaze drifted down to the lightsaber in your open hands. 

“I figure it’s about time you’re reunited.” Din chuckled. It had been nearly two months since it had been taken from you. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your fingers slowly closed around the hilt you had built with love so long ago, and waves of warmth radiated down your arms and into your chest. “I⏤” A different voice called out and Din sighed in irritation. “One moment.”

Din stepped around you to address whoever had called out for him and you just stared and stared at the lightsaber. Possession and obsession was not love. It was not the same as loyalty and protection. You blinked in shock as the clear thoughts cut through the fog you hadn't even realized you were living in. You had been yourself, but for some reason your priorities had changed starkly. Not for some reason. One reason. That fucking saber.

"Hey." Din returned to your side and you heard panic in his voice. Those dark tendrils from the saber surrounded you, but could not sink in. He set his hand on your face and his thumb caressed your cheek. "You're crying."

"I...I'm happy." You lied. "Thank you, Din."

"Of course." Din replied though he looked hesitant to believe you. He leaned in to press a kiss between your eyes. "I love you, cyar'ika."

You loved him, and you almost lost yourself.

But, not again.

[milswrites]

A Mother’s Love

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: When their family that Azriel worked so hard to build is threatened, their children having been taken in the night, Azriel and the Reader must do everything within their power to ensure that they get their kids back home safely and uninjured. Angered by this injustice, no one could predict what lengths a mother would go to in order to protect her child.

Warnings: Kidnapping, angst, violence, gore.

Notes: I am not a mother but I channeled my love for my cat into this fic. No one messes with my fur baby!

The news was delivered to you like an omen of death. Your children had been taken. Stolen from their beds in the late hours of the night by an unknown force. A shaken Feyre had been the one to break the bad news to you, having heard it first hand from Cassian.

Poor Cassian who had been eager to give your children a taste of the Illyrian lifestyle now they were both flying well, whisking them away to Windhaven with promises on his lips that what they would experience there would put hair on their chests. Poor Cassian who was now having to deal with the aftermath of their disappearance, devastatingly overwhelming guilt settling in his soul. He had failed to protect your children. His nephews.

You didn’t blame him of course, nobody could have predicted what had unfolded under the cover of moonlight last night. You wouldn’t blame him, even when you frantically winnowed to the camp and entered their bare room only to see droplets of thick crimson blood spattered on their once white sheets. The sheets which were now stone cold from the absence of their heat.

No, there was only yourself to blame. You could have spent months, standing there in the empty room, clinging to the empty sheets of your missing children, coming up with ways this would have ended differently. Alternative realities where you did not allow them to leave with their Uncle, instead keeping them safe in your home, surrounding them with your loving presence at all times. But no amount of wallowing or wishing for the events to have not transpired would bring your children back to you. You had to stay strong for them so you could act.

Yet when your husband came crashing into the room, having fled his latest mission instantly once Rhysand had managed to get through to him, the dam that had been holding back your emotions broke.

Raw sobs broke from your drying throat, your chest heaving with the effort it was taking to breathe. Azriel, whose eyes had bulged wide at the state of the disheveled room before him, wasted no time in rushing to your side in order to pull you into the safety of his arms. However, not even the strong, grounding grip of your husband would make this right.

“It’s going to be alright,” his wavering voice whispered into your ear, unsure whether he was speaking to you or himself, “we’re going to find them. We’ll bring them home.”

“Why’s there so much blood, Az?” You harrowingly cried out between your sobs and heaved breaths, looking up to the pained face of your mate, “They must be so scared.”

Azriel stilled, taking in the room once more as he pulled you even closer to his chest, the uneven beating of his heart against your cheek filling you with even more dread. “They’ll be ok” he pathetically reasoned, tears falling down his own cheeks to match yours, “Rhysand’s got everyone out searching for them now. I’m going to go too, but we should take you to Amren first, you shouldn’t be alone.”

His words were enough to stop your crying, fire burning in your eyes as you sternly replied to your husband, “if you think I’m going to sit here and do nothing whilst my sons are in danger then you are sorely mistaken Azriel. I’m going to get them back.”

“Ok…ok,” he relented without a fight, knowing no amount of force or convincing would result in you not taking part in the rescue of your children. His shaking, scarred hands reached for your cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that remained. “My love, I’m going to need you to be strong. They’re going to need you to be. No distractions” he searched your eyes for any trace of weakness or panic as he spoke, not wanting to risk you also being in death’s path. Losing your children was an unimaginable agony he could scarcely describe, losing you too would surely be the end of him.

“Let’s go get our boys Azriel” you willed, not wanting to waste another minute talking whilst they were in the enemies hands.

~~~~~

Long gone were the days in which you bore weapons, having made the difficult decision to lay your swords down and leave the Night Court’s army upon the discovery you were with child. It was a tough call to make, leaving behind the job that you had worked so hard and so many years to get. But with Azriel being constantly under the threat of danger in his line of work it needed to be done, ensuring the unborn child would still have a parent if anything ever happened.

As difficult as the decision was to make, it all made sense from the moment you laid your loving eyes on the innocent face of your first-born son. The child, barely a minute old in your arms, had stolen your life without even trying. He had commanded your love and protection from the minute he was born and you were only too willing to provide it.

This same feeling of an otherworldly type of love, the love only a mother could understand, returned upon the birth of your second son. A child just as perfect and virtuous as the first. Your new role in life was clear, there would be no more spine-chilling and adrenaline pulsing missions performed for Rhysand, you would dedicate your life to your sons. Lay down your arms and become a new type of warrior, a mother.

And you had, passing every ounce of love and knowledge you held onto your children. The cool touch of the hilt of a sword long forgotten as you have had no need to strike one in twelve long years. No evil forces to fight against, you had enjoyed a peaceful life with your family. Until now. Until someone had cruelly ripped your life away from you.

The cold metal of the sword felt alien in your sweating palms. You gripped the hilt tightly, forcing yourself to become familiar with the weight, testing it out in fluid swings and powerful hits against Cassian’s whilst you waited for any form of news from Rhysand or Azriel who were out searching. Unwilling to let your rusty skill be the reason for your children’s death.

It was clear to you what must be done, what you had to do to ensure the safety of your family. Because of this you were more than welcoming to the blinding anger that burned deeply in your veins, fuelling your body. You would battle through a whole army with only your teeth and nails if it meant seeing your two sons safe on the other side.

It was the waiting that hurt more than anything, the feeling of being useless, standing there doing nothing whilst your sons were likely being tortured or worse. Releasing your frustration through practicing with your sword could only do so much, and after a few hours of training Cassian was stopping your actions, warning you to save some energy for the fight ahead.

So you sat in painful silence, praying to the Mother, Cauldron and every other powerful being you could think of. Begging them for mercy, to spare the lives of your faultless children who had not yet been given a chance to make something of themselves in the world. Praying for the future they deserve to have.

It was the grim face of your returning husband that broke you from your silent pleading, words heavy on his lips, “We know where they are.”

~~~~~

It was a fortress. An array of deadly defensive weapons, swarming with heavily armed guards who were all fitted with glistening, strong armour which would be difficult to pierce. It was so perfectly defended that it would take a fool to attack it. A fool, or a viciously enraged group of people who would stop at nothing to get their family back.

You advanced swiftly and quietly, using the dense foliage of your surroundings to your advantage. Finally, you were here. All that stood between you and having your darling sons in your arms again were the large stone walls of the fortress and the hundred unsuspecting men waiting inside.

Of course the rest of the inner circle were there to help, but to you - whose children were trapped inside this cursed fortress- it may as well have been you against the world.

You began your attack viciously, running the sharp tip of your sword through the unsuspecting guards throat, silencing him before he could raise the alarm and alert the other soldiers of your presence. Unblinking as his body dropped to the floor, you continued moving forwards, not wanting to waste any more time waiting and standing uselessly by. The time to act was now.

You crept along the wall, pushing forwards until you reached another enemy, this time slicing your sword against his stomach, bloodied guts pooling out onto the grass below. By this point the alarm had been sounded, shrill bells ringing out from inside the keep, no doubt having been made aware of your presence from the brutal attack of one of your friends.

The increased number of soldiers flooding out of the gates you so desperately needed to pass through didn’t phase you, they were nothing but unwelcome obstacles in your path.

You fought bloody and hard, allowing the untamed beast inside of you to roam free. It was carnage. Sword clashed against sword, bits of limbs and spatters of blood flying everywhere until the ground was no longer visible beneath the pile of bodies that covered it.

Unstoppable, you worked your way through the group, slashing and stabbing anyone who stood in your way, all the while releasing the most feral of cries from your lips. Screaming every ounce of agony and pain these men had brought you into their shocked faces as you killed them. Crazed and unstable, your unpredictable actions caused the enemy to hesitate with their advancements and yet you had no problem in cutting them all down.

You could feel the blasts of heat and untameable power emitting from your surroundings, caused by your equally furious family, but you couldn’t stop and bring yourself to look at the devastation they were unleashing, not while your children were still inside. So you kept moving onwards, rushing through the gates alone. Slashing here and cutting there. You weren’t actually sure how present you were in your own body, unable to feel the scratches and cuts which were leaking viscous blood down your arm. Perhaps the mother had heard your prayers and granted you the strength to battle on without pain. One mother understanding another’s plight.

Each step you took towards the keep, towards your children, saw a wave of energy and brutality wash over you as you continued to fight viciously. Some men bravely stood their ground against you, staring into your wild eyes as your weapons clashed together. Others tried to run from you in fear, not wanting the last thing they see to be the sharp edge of your sword. You showed no mercy to either of the two.

Chasing after their retreating forms you would not relent, killing everyone in your way. Until a firm hand meeting your shoulder startled you. Whirling around you raised your sword in preparation to strike a devastating blow, only to be met with the concerned face of your husband, of your mate.

“It’s over,” he explained, hand roaming down your arm towards your sword as if to take it from you, but you flinched from his touch and pulled your arm back to yourself in retaliation, “Feyre’s got them. They’re safe. It’s over.”

“It’s not over!” You growled at him, his arm coming back to grip yours and preventing you from chasing after the fleeing soldiers. Azriel roughly yanked you towards him, wrapping his large arms around you, shielding you from the horrific sight of the scene around you and the retreating backs of the cowardly men.

“It’s over,” he repeated, resting a gentle hand on the back of your head. Your own head was shaking in disbelief against his chest. “No” you whimpered, wriggling in his arms, “Az, they’re getting away! We can’t let them get away!”

He shushed you, hand keeping your head sealed tightly against his chest whilst the other one travelled down to take your sword from your bloodied hands before throwing it to the floor. “Please my love,” he begged, lips pressing against your filthy forehead, “your children need you. Our children need you. Please come back to me.”

You were shaking in his embrace. Wondering how in good conscience you could allow those men to escape, the people who had stolen your children from you. “Cassian can handle them, you need to stop” he tried to convince you, the mating bond sharing your thoughts with him. “You fought so bravely my love,” he continued, hugging your trembling form, “it’s over now. We need to see to our sons.”

~~~~~

You did the best to clean yourself up with what you could find. Using a scrap of material to lamely attempt to wipe the dried blood from your skin, not wanting to scare your boys with your bloodied form. Not wanting them to see their mother like this.

Your blinding fury had subsided, your husband having talked you back to reality. The only need remaining was the one to take your children in your arms and never let them go.

Hands sealed together for support, Azriel led you through the winding empty halls towards where Feyre was hiding from the fight with your sons. Turning round the corner, you finally laid your watering eyes on them, scratched and a little bruised but otherwise unharmed.

Your relief was so overpowering you began to sob once more, salty tears streaming down your face as you ran over to the two boys, dragging them into your open arms in order to give them a blisteringly tight hug. Littering their heads with grateful kisses, the boys giggled. Squealing as they wiggled in your tight grip trying to get away from your overbearing display of affection.

Azriel approached where the three of you were tangled together in a heap on the floor and forcefully threw his arms around you all, covering your small but perfect family like a comforting blanket. “You are never leaving my side again!” You cried in-between kisses delivered to their flushed little faces, Azriel following suit and leaving a gentle peck on each of your son’s cheeks.

“My poor babies” you couldn’t help but wail, crushing them a little bit tighter into you, fearful to ever let them go.

“It’s ok mum,” They managed a small grin as they looked up to your distressed face, “we knew you would come and get us! And dad too!”

A happy sob broke from your lips at their words, laying a final kiss to each of their foreheads before speaking, “I would have gone to hell and back to find you if I needed to. Your dad too.” You cast your mate a loving smile whilst still huddled in your embrace, heart filled with joy at the family he had given you, at the family you would both kill to protect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: This was my first time writing a proper fight sequence so I hope it flows and makes sense!

[r0-boat]

mother to a werewolf child

Head cannons for my dilf werewolf OC being the father of your kid.

Feat. The cannon ship kid with reader: Forest.

Sfw

Cw: babies, being pregnant, mental health struggles, PTSD, anxiety, hurt/comfort, domestic life in the woods, baby fever, uhh brief non graphic description of birth.

[Author's notes: Forest was created because I thought it would be fun for me to give you a ship kid with my OC. Forest is the only one that's Canon if you ever want to kid. They canonically look like the with reddish hair. so they can be anything you want, and they can be any gender you want too]

Cole is heavily damaged by the trauma that his ex-wife gave him after she had kids with him, so for some reason, the Deep anxiety is telling him that you will soon leave him too. Before his ex left him, when she found out he was a werewolf and he never saw his children again, he cut all contact with her in exchange of her not letting out his secret to everyone she knows.

He wanted to have a child with you. All he wanted to be was a father, but now here you are pregnant, and he's having a panic attack. Silently in his wolf form, he whimpered underneath furniture just enough for his big size. When you tried talking to him he almost didn't recognize you snarling and almost biting you but you wouldn't leave your husband and the father of your child alone. You gently stroked his head as the whining slowly stopped. He apologized for the outburst as a man he knows he should be much stronger than this and he also apologizes for almost biting you.

The pregnancy for the werewolf child was rough. You swore it was almost as if you were turning into one yourself, and your cravings for meat only intensified into raw game meat. Cole was happy to provide his instincts once again, tapping into the urge to provide for his hungry spouse with the child in their tummy. Your hormones are out of control, and you're physically weak. This child is sapping all of your strength.

Your husband, before this point, said his favorite thing to do when the chores were completed was sit down on the couch and watch TV with a beer. He stepped up, he vowed to take care of everything, he cleaned the house how you would clean it, he did everything and more. As much as he'd hate it if his side gig for hunting weren't bringing enough to feed you, he would go back and work driving hours to the nearest small town and work any job they would give him.

He has never felt like this before, and honestly, he loves it. The feeling of being relied on always felt oddly comforting to him. Maybe that's just his werewolf instincts he'd never know. It was tiring. But it was all worth it seeing your smiling face as you finally try to muster your strength to get out of bed. This inhuman child demanded so much of your energy. The person who gave you that beautiful demon spawn was at your beck and call. Cole, in the future, what, annoyingly uses this as an example of what masculinity should be. Men give it their all to take care of their wives.

One night, two crooks broke into your house, and before they could do anything, once they found you helplessly on your shared bed, your husband found you. In danger and potential, Danger got flashbacks to how his ex found him as a werewolf protecting her, and he lost it. He could have killed them that night if it weren't for him holding himself back as the Intruders ran shit scared. He held you tightly, his hand, your stomach, calming himself down. " so what's that like?" You ask. Call scratched his scruffy chin before answering, "It's hard to explain, but it's like having tunnel vision. All I could think about was you being hurt, as if I was in the moment. All I could see was you being hurt and pure anger."

Cole, with nowhere else, put you to deliver the child. He had to call a person who knew how to do it his mother. A werewolf just like him, a kind, gentle red-haired lady. You had met her before and she knew you were the right one and before long you had a wonderful child.

When Cole held his child in his arms, he had flashbacks to win. He had to bust his ass to make sure you were well and fed throughout your pregnancy, and he cried tears of joy. Never once would he forget and regret that day

Forest was... Wild they are intelligent and learn very quickly; however, raising them was like having a little puppy with the intelligence of a human child. However, your dumbass husband was prepared. You had to double-take when you saw the plastic bag with the PetSmart label on it.... it worked... as long as Forest wasn't chewing on the furniture.

Forest in their wolf form looked exactly like their father, albeit with a more brownish-red tint from dad and with one floppy ear.

Cole was beaming with pride he swears it won't be like the last time he'll protect Forest with his life. Cole, we'll teach them everything they know how to find edible plants and hunting. Father and child running through the forest feeling the wind in their fur with you on Cole's back traveling to a small creek to play in the cool water need to go home and fall asleep in Cole's arms snuggling you close, lovingly protectively