#Nose Thread Lift

[lasercosmesis]

What Is a Nose Thread Lift or String Rhinoplasty?

The nose is one of the focal points of anyone’s face, and the broken and missapne nose impacts upon one’s entire facial appearance, self-esteem and confidence as well. If you are one of them who is unhappy with your nose shape but doesn’t want to undergo the surgical procedure of rhinoplasty then this blog is for you. 

In Mumbai, Dr. Medha Bhave is a plastic surgeon renowned for providing affordable rhinoplasty surgery cost in Thane. By taking insights from the surgeon, this blog is going to share the benefits of nose thread lift or string rhinoplasty.

What Is A Nose Thread Lift?

A nose thread lift is a non-surgical, minimally invasive, and reversible nose shaping procedure. It is far less expensive than surgical rhinoplasty, though it does not provide long-term results with a single session. It requires upkeep and touch-ups.

Benefits of Nose Thread lift

Advantages of string rhinoplasty are as follows: 

It improves one’s ability to breathe

It repairs the injury of nose

Corrects a too much wide, long, crooked, or short nose

It corrects the nose hump

It improves the shape of nose 

Ideal Candidate for Nose Thread Lift

An ideal candidate for  nose thread lift surgery is one who wants to correct the nose shape but is afraid to undergo a surgical procedure for nose shape correction. 

What is the Lifespan of a Nose Thread Lift?

The procedure utilizes bio-absorbable threads, which typically dissolves between one and two years after the procedure is completed. If the procedure is repeated after 9 months, it may last longer or become permanent, depending on collagen stimulation in the nose.

Thread Lift Surgery Can Have Expected Results

The lunchtime nose job was developed and introduced over 15 years ago, but its popularity has recently increased. This low-cost and effective technique can be used to address a variety of cosmetic issues, including the following:

Nose Slimming- Although a PDO thread lift cannot change nose width, it can be used to give your nose a slimmer appearance by lifting the bridge slightly.

Nose Tip Lift - Possibly the most common reason for a nose thread lift, the nose tip lift technique is also extremely effective. A nose tip that points downwards makes the nose appear longer.

Nose Bridge Lift: A nose thread lift can help if you use the bridge on your nose to make it higher and look more defined.

Streamlining the Nose Ridge: Thread lifts can be used to reshape your nose tissue and give it a straighter appearance if you have a bump or a crooked nose.

Conclusion

Nose thread lift is a non-invasive alternative to rhinoplasty. In this procedure art of thread lift is used to correct the deformity of the nose and give it slimmer and longer shape. One wants to change the nose shape but afraid of invasive rhinoplasty can consider this method. String rhinoplasty requires period maintenance of the treated area. 

To learn more about this treatment you may visit Laser Cosmesis Clinic and schedule an appointment with Dr. Medha Bhave. She has extensive years of experience and is popular as the best plastic surgeon in Thane, Mumbai for various types of plastic surgeries ranging from rhinoplasty to breast reshaping, mommy makeover and more with the highest success rates. To avail the benefits, book a consultation now!

Original Source:- https://theomnibuzz.com/what-is-a-nose-thread-lift-or-string-rhinoplasty/

[beautywellnessblog]

What Does The Nose Thread Lift Actually Mean?

This novel approach is a tremendously common remedial medical procedure in Singapore. This is one of the most well-known nasal medications available today.

It can be used to quickly, naturally, and safely cure a significant number of the most common nasal ailments. This cycle enables one to maintain their current appearance while still enhancing it.

The nose thread lift strategy is a fast and straightforward method for resolving normal nasal issues that can be destructive to one's fearlessness and confidence, like warped or hanging nostrils, wide nostrils, a "overhanging" nasal tip, uneven nostrils, an excessively huge or little nasal tip, a broadened septum, and so on. SW1 Facility is available.

Nose Thread Lift

One medical procedure to dispose of saggy nasal skin is the nose thread lift singapore. Rather than South Korea, where it began, where it has been generally utilized over the past 20 years, the US as of late has taken on this technique.

It is a quick and safe corrective medical procedure method that requires no invasive techniques, settling on it a famous decision for some individuals who wish to improve their appearance.

Itemized directions and results for a nose thread lift

A nasal thread lift is an injectable technique that has been clinically proven to lift the nose normally without a medical procedure.

The nasolabial overlap, which associates within your nose to the beyond your lips, is where the cycle starts. Little infusions of an uncommonly planned arrangement are made into this overlay.

By advancing your body's regular mending process, the arrangement constructs a framework for new collagen creation. You will require numerous medicines to achieve the ideal results since this interaction could require as long as four months.

You ought to see more tight skin around your nasal labial folds after around four months, as well as smoother skin on one or the other side of your nose. Yet again the capacity to inhale through your nose is one of the clearest evidence that this treatment was effective.

Questions and Replies on Nose Thread Lifts

The notoriety of nose thread lifts is ascending among patients looking for corrective medical procedures. It does, however, have a few risks and possible negative impacts, very much like some other careful activity. You can conclude what's great for your conditions by utilizing the generally posed inquiries with respect to nose thread lifts provided beneath.

What's Incorporated with Nose Threads? Do they truly have a Protected environment?

The polydioxanone-made strings utilized by specialists for nasal string lift (PDO). After a methodology, doctors line up injuries utilizing PDO, a planned absorbable string. The human body is totally protected from it and it is bio-viable.

Your nose will keep on being elevated for one more 8 to a year following the nose string lift methodology, when the strings will completely corrupt.

After the nose thread lift system, is there a possibility of becoming visually impaired?

Rather than dermal filler medicines, there is virtually little gamble of vision misfortune in the wake of going through a nasal string lift.

For a long time, experts have extended noses utilizing dermal fillers. Even though they have been involved for a long time, a few specialists are reluctant to utilize nasal fillers due to the gamble of vascular ensnarement, which can bring about skin crumbling and even vision misfortune.

Then again, a nose string lift utilizing PDO strings is installed utilizing coldhearted cannulas to achieve the best level and projection of the nose by making a structure out of the strings. There is virtually insignificant gamble of vision misfortune, and the impacts of nose string lift are marvelous.

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ “I DON’T NEED GOOGLE, MY HUSBAND KNOWS EVERYTHING”

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter in an oversized shirt— his shirt. Your legs are swinging idly while you’re scrolling on your phone as he cooks. “Do you think cats can see ghosts?” you asked aloud, eyes squinting at a Reddit thread.

Nanami didn’t even look up from where he stood at the stove. His sleeves are neatly rolled up to his forearms, his tie loose around his neck and his glasses were sliding slightly down his nose. “They can. Their pupils can pick up ultraviolet light, which some believe contributes to sensing energies humans can’t”.

You blinked, taken aback by how he knew the answer to such a useless question like that. “Okay, how do you know that?”

He finally looked over at you with one brow raised. “Because you asked me that last year at 1 a.m. after watching that horror movie. You were scared to go to the bathroom”.

You flushed in embarrassment from the memory, making a face as you tossed a kitchen towel at him. “Shut up, I forgot”.

“You always forget”. He caught the towel effortlessly and set it aside, walking over to you with that steady, unhurried pace that made your stomach flip. “That’s why you don’t need Google, right?”

You smiled, your eyes bright as you looked at him. “Exactly. I don’t need Google. My husband knows everything”.

“Hm,” he murmured, slipping his hands to your hips and standing between your parted legs. “Maybe. I do have a few things memorized by now”.

His lips brushed your temple, his nose dragging down your cheek to the spot just below your ear. You melted instinctively, leaning into the comfort of his touch. “Like how you always get pouty when I win an argument,” he whispered against you, softly kissing your jaw. “Or how you kick your feet when you’re excited”.

You gasped playfully. “That’s not knowledge, that’s slander”.

“And yet…” He lifted your chin with two fingers, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he stared into your eyes. “I know what this means, too”.

He kissed you softly and passionately, like time didn’t exist beyond the press of his lips against yours. You sighed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he deepened it, his tongue teasing yours with lazy confidence as his palm splayed warm and heavy on each side of your thighs.

“I think,” you murmured between kisses, “you just like proving me right”.

He chuckled lowly, voice deep but still soft as always. “Mm. And what am I proving now?”

“That you do know everything,” you breathed in desperation, tugging gently at his loosened tie. “Especially when it comes to me”.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Nanami eased you back, laying you down across the countertop with a careful hand behind your head, kissing down your throat as he nudged the hem of your shirt up past your hips. No panties. Of course. You knew he liked easy access.

“You did this on purpose,” he muttered, dragging his knuckles along the inside of your thigh.

“Because I knew you’d come home early”.

“And what does that say about you?” he asked, smirking.

“That I know you, too”.

He hummed softly, slipping two fingers through your folds and groaning softly at how wet you already were. “Smart girl”.

You whimpered as he teased your clit, lazy circles designed to drive you insane. His lips met yours again, his other hand pressing your wrists gently above your head.

“You always ask the most ridiculous questions,” he muttered, lining up against your wet entrance without warning, which is crazy because you didn’t even notice when he reached into his pants and pulled his cock out till you felt the weight of him pressing against you. It’s so thick and hard and sooo warm that you squirmed. “But when it matters— when your body’s desperate for something real, you don’t need answers”.

He slid into you slowly, making you gasp at his size, your back arching by the stretch and your legs are wrapping tightly around him.

“You just need me”.

You nodded, completely breathless. “Always you”.

Nanami kissed you like a promise like he had all the answers in the world— and you didn’t need a single one of them as long as he was yours.

[aesthetic2020]

Dermaplaning for Men

Looking for a way to achieve smoother, healthier skin? Discover dermaplaning for men at Aesthetic International, a non-invasive exfoliation treatment designed to remove dead skin cells and fine facial hair, leaving your skin looking rejuvenated and refreshed.

Why Choose Dermaplaning at Aesthetic International?

Expert Care: Our skilled aestheticians are trained in the latest dermaplaning techniques, ensuring a safe and effective treatment that enhances your skin’s texture and appearance.

Immediate Results: Experience instant improvements in skin smoothness and tone, making it an ideal choice for men looking to improve their skin health quickly.

Non-Invasive: This painless procedure requires no downtime, allowing you to return to your daily activities immediately after treatment.

Enhanced Absorption: By removing the top layer of dead skin cells, dermaplaning enhances the absorption of skincare products, maximizing their effectiveness.

Elevate your skincare routine with dermaplaning for men at Aesthetic International. Our commitment to high-quality care and personalized service ensures you achieve the best results possible.

Dermaplaning Treatment In Bangalore

Dreaming of having a baby-smooth complexion?

It is possible when you undergo a dermaplaning procedure at AESTHETIC INTERNATIONAL®.

This procedure is perfect for those who want to even out their complexion without the hassle of downtime.

It gives you the clearest and cleanest complexion of your life! Here are a few facts you need to know:

WHAT IS DERMAPLANING?

The dermablade hair removal procedure is an anti-aging skin care treatment – without the use of chemicals. It is a highly effective manual exfoliation technique that removes surface debris with a sterile, surgical scalpel (dermaplaning blade).

An aesthetician uses the scalpel while holding the skin taut, swiping the blade in gentle upward motions to gently “shave” the skin’s surface, removing the top-most layer of dead skin. The added bonus is the removal of the fine, vellus hair (aka peach fuzz), which makes the skin feel smoother. It does not cause trauma to the skin and can be performed every 3 to 4 weeks. There is typically no downtime for this procedure.

DERMAPLANING VS. MICRODERMABRASION

Both facial treatments are good options when looking for exfoliation to reveal a smoother complexion.

• Dermaplaning uses a small razor to gently rid the skin of dead skin cells. The light strokes gently remove built-up cells and fine hairs that can trap oil and dirt. The end result is a refreshed glow free of Vellus hair (“peach-fuzz”).

• Microdermabrasion uses a machine that buffs and polishes the skin in order to remove dead skin cells. This procedure also results in a refreshed look. After a series of treatments; it can reduce the look of wrinkles and unclog pores.

You should consult your dermatologist/aesthetician to discuss the benefits that each procedure would have for your skin type.

BENEFITS OF DERMAPLANING

• Provides deeper product penetration, • Removes soft facial hair that traps dirt and oils, • Promotes smoother skin, • Safe procedure for removing dead skin cells and “peach fuzz”, • Reduces the appearance of acne scars, • Diminishes the look of fine lines, and • Works on all skin types.

SIDE EFFECTS OF DERMAPLANING

The possible short-term side effects of the procedure may include:

• The skin may be red and swollen, • It may appear scraped for several days, • Eating and talking may be difficult for a few days after the procedure, • Tingling, burning, or aching may occur, and • Swelling and scabbing may occur.

A dermaplane facial will leave your skin brighter, smoother, glowing, and more youthful. The only possible negative side effect of dermaplaning is that those with active pustular acne cannot undergo the procedure.

HOW LONG DOES DERMAPLANING LAST?

The procedure removes up to 3 weeks of dead skin cells that have accumulated. The results can last up to 4 weeks.

HOW OFTEN SHOULD YOU DERMABLADE YOUR FACE?

Once a month is recommended for the best results.

Visit Aesthetic International - Dermaplaning to learn more about our services and book your appointment today!

Tags: #Dermaplaning #MenSkincare #AestheticInternational #Exfoliation #HealthySkin

[sadiesdoll]

sevika with a breeding kink. ♡

drunk!sevika x reader. | just sevika wanting to cum inside you. (mdni ♡)

sevika with a breeding kink. ♡ | 2 |

contains: breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, strength kink (kinda), possessive language, alcohol use (both parties intoxicated but consenting), & dry humping.

a/n: this was heavily inspired by this fic so please check out their original work cus it’s perfect

Enjoy ♡

You're giggling as you shut the door behind Silco and Vander, both of them high-fiving and stumbling toward their Uber like gremlins on a sugar rush.

"Text me when you get home!" you yell after them, already kicking off your shoes.

The apartment's a mess—beer bottles, takeout containers, someone left a single sock on the windowsill (???). You start gathering stuff in your arms with that tipsy buzz still in your veins, swaying a little with each step.

You make your way toward the living room to check on Sevika but stop in your tracks when you see her sprawled flat on the carpet, one leg bent awkwardly and an arm slung over her face like she's shielding herself from the world.

She groans, "Those fuckin' assholes cheated."

You try not to laugh. "Was this Vander or Silco?"

"Both." She slurs. "Fuck 'em."

You tiptoe closer, hands on your hips. "I warned you not to go shot-for-shot with literal tank-sized men! Well.. except silco.”

Sevika grumbles again, her voice deep and raspy, like gravel soaked in whiskey. She shifts slightly but doesn't open her eyes.

You straddle her hips carefully, wobbly from the alcohol, planting yourself right on top of her.

"Maybe next time you'll listen to me."

Her arm twitches. She finally cracks one eye open and peers at you. Her gaze drops low.

Her eyes darken.

You're sitting right on her lap, all soft and warm. You’re small compared to her.

She swallows thickly. Her thigh tenses under your ass. You can feel her reacting to you, and you smirk.

"Are you dying?" you tease, pressing your palms to her chest.

"Not yet," she mumbles, but her fingers twitch against the carpet. You bounce a little, teasing, light—just enough to make her groan through her teeth.

"Jesus," she growls. Her hands lift and land heavy on your hips. "You tryna fucking kill me?"

You grin, breathless. "I'm just keeping the winner company."

"I didn't win." She says, looking down at your thighs while rubbing circles on them with her thumb.

"You won me," you shrug dramatically.

And something snaps in her.

Her eyes flick up to yours, full of heat and frustration and some deep, stormy emotion you can't quite name. She shifts under you again, and it's not subtle.

You tilt your head, watching her eyes flutter between your face and your thighs like she's trying to decide where to die. She's flushed now—cheeks warm, chest rising and falling heavier with every second.

You smooth your hands over her stomach, up her ribs, watching the way her breath catches beneath your fingers. "You're really that fucked up, huh?"

"Mhmm," she mumbles, her grip on your hips tightening as you shift again, just slightly. You're barely moving, but it's enough to make her grunt softly—like the restraint is physically painful.

"I could move," you say softly, leaning forward just enough for your chest to brush hers. "Get off. Let you rest."

Her hands clamp down hard. "Don't." It's low. Barely a growl. Almost a plea.

You hum, dragging your fingers up into her hair, letting her body feel the weight of yours. "You're never this needy, babe..."

Her eyes flick up to yours again, this time hazier, darker. "M not needy."

"You are," you whisper, brushing your nose along her jaw. "Look at you. Clingy."

"I'm drunk," she mutters, as if that's a defense.

You giggle softly. "So you admit you need me?"

Her silence is loud.

Your voice dips, teasing, sultry. "What's got you all soft for me, huh?”

She exhales sharply through her nose—half-laugh, half-groan. Then her hand lifts, palm cupping the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair like she's grounding herself. Her thumb brushes your skin softly.

There's a tension in her body, but it's not sharp-it's aching.

She's quiet for a beat. Then:

"You don't get it."

You blink. "What?"

Her grip tightens, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't get how fuckin' lucky I feel just having you like this."

Your breath hitches. And then, that's when it happens—her voice going gravelly, slurred and wrecked:

 "I wanna fuckin' put a baby in you."

You freeze. "...Huh?"

"I wanna-" she exhales harshly, like the words are scraped from her throat. "Wanna fill you up. Wanna make you all pretty and swollen. Fuckin' mine."

You open your mouth but no sound comes out.

Her hands slide rough and slow over your waist, your belly, your hips—like she's mapping it all out. Like she's already claiming it.

"You're so warm," she murmurs, breathless.

"So soft. I can feel your pussy through these little shorts, baby—fuck—“

Her voice breaks into a groan as she grinds up once, slow and heavy beneath you, and you feel allof her.

"I don't want stupid fuckin' plastic. I don't want fingers. I want you raw. I wanna stretch you out with my cock and keep you so fuckin’ full."

You shudder. "Sevika-"

"I want it to leak out of you for hours," she slurs, hips twitching again. "Want you to be messy with me. Want you to smell like it. Like mine."

Your breath stutters, thighs clenching. She feels it.

"Ohhh, fuck," she hisses. "That—do that again."

You try to say something smart. Anything.

But your brain is gone.

Her grip on your hips gets bruising. She's panting. Desperate.

"I'd be so fucking good to you," she growls.

"Rub your feet, your back, kiss that belly every night—l'd take care of everything, just let me—fuck—just let me cum inside you."

Her pupils are blown, her mouth parted in that open-mouthed, wrecked kind of awe like you're something divine. She looks up at you like she's praying. Worshipping.

"You'd look so fuckin' good full. Dripping. Cryin' because l'm too big and deep but beggin' me not to stop."

You gasp, nails digging into her shoulders.

She grins—sharp, unhinged.

"Say yes," she pants, pulling you down so her mouth brushes your ear. "Say yes and I'll do it right now—slow, deep—'til you're milking me for everything I got."

You grab her face to still her, both of you panting, burning up from the inside out. She looks feral. Her jaw clenches like she's holding back from flipping you over and doing it now. And then-

Click.

You both freeze.

The front door creaks open.

In walks Jinx, holding a grocery bag and a half-eaten lollipop, jaw instantly dropping.

Sevika, still fully seated with you straddling her, looks up, red-eyed, lip bitten, her arms wrapped tight around your waist.

Jinx blinks.

“…You good?"

part 2 is out now ♡

criticism and ideas are heavily appreciated (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

thank you for reading! ♡

[kissandtellus]

‘Schlick, Schlick, Hooray!’ : LADS Omegaverse, Heat Version

Synopsis: The ‘Heat’ version of ‘Into the Slick of It’! Your Heat has begun and without the help of Suppressants, only your Alpha can soothe this fire.

Warnings: Omegaverse, Knotting, Oral (m&f), Talks of Pups/Eggs, use of ‘Gege’, Caleb likes seeing you cry, Scenting, Marking, it’s another dirty one.

⋆˚🐾˖° Xavier

Xavier tried his best to keep you at an arms length as he tried to nurse you through your Heat. He had came knocking the moment the alarm on his phone went off, signaling your impending Heat.

The Hunters Association had cut back on Suppressants for Omegas, something for ‘budget cuts’.

The state he found you in could only be described as a fucking wreck. The sweat had already kicked in. You were wearing one of his t-shirts with nothing underneath.

When you opened the door, his eyes immediately went to the slick staining your inner thighs.

“Shit-“

“Help me.” Your whimper broke him. Forgotten, was the fruit basket in his hands. He backed you into your own apartment.

Your hands were immediately trying to tear at his sweatshirt. The feeling of his abs under your fingertips made you want to be under the flesh in more ways than one.

Clothing was torn left and right. The race to the bedroom was filled with you clinging to Xavier, one of his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist.

“Xavier, need you inside. Need you filling me up. My Prince-My Love-“ You dry humped against the tent in his pants. His normally stoic facade cracked at the seams.

Your back hits the comforter and you can’t get your hands on him fast enough. His fingers thread to your hair.

“Starshine, you don’t need to-“

“Shut up.” It was the only thing you say before you pulls down his pants and underwear, stuffing the head of his cock snugly in your mouth. You ignore the burn in your throat as you take him inch by inch.

“S-Shit-“ he stumbled over his words. You look up at him through damp lashes when your lips finally meet the base. Your drooling, moaning around his delicious length like it was the last thing you’d ever taste. Your wandering hands cant sit still for long. “Dirty girl, are you touching yourself?”

Xavier knew the answer. Even before the scent of your arousal hit his nose, or the sound of your fingers sliding through your slick folds reached his ears. His hips snap in a rolling motion, cooing down at you as you make a mess of yourself.

“Such a filthy Omega. What would you do without me, hm? Waste that perfectly good slick on your own fingers?” His voice was always so sweet. But when those filthy words fell from his mouth, you can only moan around his length.

His pretty cockhead bullied the back of your throat over and over again. Your tongue flattened to the underside, a mixture of gags and wet noises filling the bedroom. Xavier used your hair as leverage as he chased his own release.

“Yeah? Yeah, my Pretty Girl. Gonna choke on my cum, hm?” His own sense were overwhelmed by your pheromones. His Alpha instincts screamed at him to take you, to dominate you, to make you his all over again.

He barely pulled his throbbing length out just in time for his thick, hot ropes of seed to coat your face. “Aht! Mouth open-that’s it. Good Girl.”

The final few strings coated your eager tongue. His long fingers pressed on your tongue to smear his cum around your tastebuds.

“We’re not done yet. Ass up.”

⋆˚🐾˖° Rafayel

You didn’t mean to walk so far in the midst of your Heat. It had hit you right after your final mission against a tough Wanderer. You thought you could make it to Rafayel’s before it sat in fully.

But when you showed up to his Studio, reeking of your Heat, he was already waiting with the door wide open. He met you at the doorway and pulled you in before you could even explain yourself.

Without a second thought, Rafayel moves swiftly across the studio, his long legs eating up the distance between you. He wraps his strong arms around your waist and lifts you up, carrying you to the makeshift nest he’s created for you without breaking eye contact. His hands tremble with need as he begins to undress you.

His heart aches at the sight of you, so deep in Heat that you're already apologizing. He gently lays you down on the bed, his hands caressing your face tenderly. “Shh, it's not your fault, my love. You didn't do anything wrong."

Rafayel quickly removes his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. He can smell your need, thick and heavy in the air. He climbs onto the bed, settling between your legs. His hands roam over your body, soothing and comforting as he tries to calm your racing heart.

You are rubbing your face in the crook of his neck, marking him with your own scent. “Missed you. Need you so much.”

His breath catches at your words, one hand tangling in your hair while the other trails down your side. "Missed you more than anything, Cutie. Gods, that scent..." He nuzzles against your neck, marking you back with his own smell. “How long has this been building?"

Before you can even answer him, his nimble fingers push between your legs to feel just how soaked in Slick you are. That cocky smile of his returns

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your lips before trailing down your neck. “Looks like someone's been a very good girl, all hot and bothered for her Alpha." His fingers circle your entrance, teasing you with gentle pressure. “Soaked and ready, just for me."

"Your poor little body, aching like this..." He adds another finger, starting a slow rhythm as he speaks. “Did you try to take care of yourself before coming here?" He already knows the answer - the raw need in your scent tells him everything. “You didn't, did you?"

“Came straight from work. I-I couldn’t. You know I can’t do it myself.” Your nails dig into his shoulders, a needy whine tearing from your throat.

His eyes flash with primal desire at your words and the way you cling to him. “That's my girl..." He removes his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his cock. He teases your entrance slowly, letting you feel every inch. "Only I can give you what you need."

"Please..." You beg, your hips bucking up to try and force him inside. Your face is flushed, hair a mess from your frantic markings. “Need you inside me, need your knot!“ You sob the last part, the desperation clear in your voice.

Rafayel chuckles at your need. He reaches over to the bedside table where a messy paint pallet rests. He grabs the clean paintbrush right as he starts to fill you with his cock. “You stretch so beautifully around me.”

He praises. He lowers the paintbrush to tease around your nipples, watching them pebble under his administration. You cry out and try to jerk away your chest but he silenced you with a punishing thrust. “Ohhh, easy Cutie. Feels so nice when you gush around me like this.”

You nearly lost your fucking mind when the bristles touched your clit.

⋆˚🐾˖° Zayne

Zayne had thrown out your Suppressants. He’d personal ensure the physician who prescribed them to you at such a young age would never practice in medicine again.

You had stumbled into his office. He wasn’t even sure how you had made it here in one piece by the way you smelled alone. You barely had both feet in the door before he rushed to lock the door to his office.

His fingers were peeling open your eye, shining the pen-light into your pupil. You were pleading as he examined your Heat-stricken symptoms. “Z-Zayne I need them. Just one. Please!” Your pleads fall on deaf ears.

“Absolutely not. Those placebos only mask the issues, they do not solve it.” Zayne removes his glasses just as you launch yourself at the Doctor.

“Need your cock, Dr Zayne. No, need your knot.” You plead on a broken whimper. Zayne tries to just talk to you as a physician, and not an Alpha. But how could he ignore those pretty pleas. You were practically humping his dress pants, clinging to his lab coat.

“This is what you needed right?” His voice is almost mocking when he has you laid out on the examination table, knuckles deep in your squelching cunt. The latex from his gloves are too slick, not enough pressure. You try to squirm under his touch, you need more.

“No Darling,” he pins you down with a strong hand on your stomach, pinning you back. “Preparation is key. I’d like to avoid tearing you.” His fingers move faster, clipping that spot inside that makes those white stars flash behind your eyelids.

“Or maybe-“ he purrs, rubbing your stomach as though he’s petting an affectionate cat. “Being torn apart is what you need.”

Those words have you spasming under his touch, soaking the thin paper sheet on the examination bed. You Heat is blossoming in your belly and as soon as one orgasm leaves you, you crave to be filled yet again. You grasp at the edge of his lab coat sleeve which is now wearing evidence of your Slick.

“Inside-oh Please!”

“Patience.” His fingers quickly pull his throbbing length from it confines, pants barely shimmied down his hips. His cock is furious, the tip nearly purple with need, leaking already. It’s teasing your dripping folds and you gasp, afraid you might come undone right then and there.

When the bulbous head presses forward you tear at the thin bed cover, back arching. Zayne hushes your cries, hand over your mouth. His knee lifts to the edge of the bed for the right angle and-

You cry out loud behind his hand as he enters you in a single thrust. The burn is so delicious, so welcome, but your breath leaves your lungs at the pure size of him. “Shh, shhh…just take it. I took all that time stretching you. Open up for me. Good girl.”

The rickety bed is on its last legs as Zayne is letting you anywhere but go. His glasses have slipped down his nose while he growls and slobbers against your scent gland.

“You are making a mess all over my office.” His chuckle is nearly a put when he pulls your hair away from the crook of your neck. “If I ever catch you taking those suppressants again, I’ll keep you locked away and force you to ride out your Heat on your own. Understand?”

Oh you understood alright.

Understood enough to cream on his cock again.

⋆˚🐾˖° Caleb

If you thought Caleb was going to leave you alone through your Heat, you were sorely mistaken.

He made a makeshift nest for you right in his apartment. He even took a few days off work to ensure his Pretty Omega was taken care of.

He dropped off everything you needed at the door.

The first two days were fine, besides the sweet smell of your pheromones leaking through the door. But on the third day, it was like fighting off a caged tiger.

“No Pipsqueak, c’mon let’s get you back in bed.” He had tried to pry you off of him. You promised him you only need to come out to use the bathroom.

But here you were stripped down to nothing, arms wrapped around him while your Slick coated the living room carpet.

“If you make me go back in there I’ll die.” You sobbed out, big crocodile tears spilling over your flushed cheeks. “You can take care of me like you used to when we lived at Gran’s. I’ll even be quiet like I used to be. Won’t make a noise when I take your-“

“Enough.” That voice was something he used for his soldiers, not his darling Pips. So when he snapped and those tears started to spill faster, his strength dissolved. “Hey no, none of that.”

He hated seeing you cry.

Well.

Except in this current moment.

Your knees were pressed to your chest, it had been so long since he’d been inside of you. Each time felt like you were back in your Senior year of high school when he took your virginity.

You were crying.

You weren’t sure if they were tears of pain from the stretch, or from finally getting a knot to stuff your hole.

“I’ll be good, so good! Feel so good inside! F-Fuck Caleb-“

“Pretty Omega’s don’t cuss at their Alpha’s Pipsqueak.” His dog tags bump your chin as he begins stuffing you full of his cock.

He leans down and laps at your tears, letting the salty taste linger for a moment.

His strong hands push the back of your legs up until you are nearly bent in half. He watches his cock slide in and out of your sopping hole like it has him mesmerized.

“You wanted to cry so bad Pips. Cry for Gege, cry for your Alpha.”

His thrust is so punishing it feels like he may be a ‘Gege’ shaped hole in your guts by the time he’s done. But it’s exactly what you need. You need him to drill every thought out of your pretty head.

“That’s right Princess, oh I know, I’m so mean,” he fakes a pout as another one of his thrust send you spiraling “Tell me how mean Gege is.”

⋆˚🐾˖° Sylus

Contrary to belief, Sylus is far from a forgetful Alpha. He has the days of your Heat marked down on every calendar available. He has you in the best nest money could buy. No price is too high for his little Omega.

He’s sprawled out in his desk chair as he types away at his laptop. He can smell you before he sees you. You are clutching one of his shirts to your chest so tightly it might mold with your skin.

“Kitten, you should be in bed.”

“It started.”

“I know, Sweetie.” He pushes his chair back from the desk and opens his arms. He knew your Heat can be a frightful experience. Especially after taking Suppressants for so long. But he’d convinced you to stop taking them, that they were damaging to your body.

You crawl into his lap and he purrs, his own scent calming you just a little. “Where does it hurt Sweetie?”

He knows exactly where it aches. But he wants your permission of course. You grab his hand, guiding it down the expanse of your stomach and into the soaked panties you were wearing. “H-here.”

“Oh Kitten,” his finger squelch through your Slick and you squeak and cling to his arm. “Shh, it’s alright. Your Alpha will take care of you. Just relax.”

The nest he had spent so much time maintaining was in disarray. His tongue and fingers draw out a third orgasm and you feel like you might explode. “S-Sy! No more, no more, I need your knot!”

Sylus pulls his lips from your throbbing clit as he licks his lips. Your juices coat everywhere from his nose to his lips. He chuckles as he withdraws his fingers and slick gushes onto the sheets. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

You let out a whine that says ‘if you don’t fuck me, I’ll lose my mind’

The first thrust is the hardest. His cock almost bends as he tries to fit it inside of your sopping hole. “Relax Kitten.”

“I-I can’t!”

“You can, yes you can. Oh, there we go. Good girl, I’m inside. Can you feel it?”

Oh God you can feel it.

You can feel how he’s taking up every piece of your guts, belly, fuck it’s almost like you can feel it in your chest.

“Oh, easy now Sweetie. You don’t want to inflate my ego. My Knot is doing enough inflating for the both of us.”

Sylus lathers your face and throat with his tongue and fangs. He wants to be like this forever, he never wants to let you go again. Your souls and bodies are intertwined in a dance that is millions of years old.

“I’m never letting you go again. So take this fuckin’ Knot and be mine again.”

[suksatoru]

plushies galore! ⋆˚୨♡୧˚⋆ katsuki x you

katsuki lays sprawled on your bed with one, muscular arm shifting onto your side. he rips away the stuffed animal that was laying peacefully in your arms, before promptly chucking it full force across your room.

"katsuki!"

he ignores you, nuzzling into the spot where your hello kitty plush was laying previously — right on your chest — as he wraps his arms around you with a satisfied sigh

"what the hell was that for?" you whine, attempting to push him off — which unfortunately doesn't work, because he lowers all of his body weight on top of you as you gasp and squirm in his arms — telling the heavy bastard to get off and go get your plushy!

"she was lookin' at me funny. piece of shit."

katsuki yelps loudly when you pinch the muscle of his arm, scowling even further as you look at him with a glare

"she can't help the way her face is! go say sorry!"

he mutters something under his breath as you pull your brows together in confusion, watching his red eyes glare angrily at the hello kitty plushy that laid helplessly on the floor

"hm? what was that?" you asked sternly as a growl rumbles deep in chest. he lifts his head from your stomach, his lips curling into something similar to a pout as looks away

"she took my spot too... i guess." he huffs, flipping off your cuddly companion as you blink back your surprise. a soft giggle leaves your lips as you realize what was going on. katsuki was just jealous.

"you know you're my favorite, right?" you coo, gently threading a hand through his spiky hair as the tension from his back disperses. he sinks further into your body as he nods his head slowly

"damn right i am." he mutters, pressing feather soft kisses onto your tummy as you gently bop your nose against his

"i love you, katsuki." you whisper, watching his eyes soften a fraction at your words before he sighs

"i know, brat. everyone does."

he braces himself for impact the moment the words leave his mouth, hiding his face against your skin as you smack his head with a wack! he groans with a laugh, sending you a small smile — one that was specifically reserved for you.

"now, can you please go say sorry to her?" you cross your arms, looking down at him with a hopeful smile as he squints back, tightening his arms around your waist stubbornly.

"hell no."

"katsuki."

"...fine."

[anthonymisty9]

The Benefits Often Seen After Receiving PDO Threading in a Clinic

If you are interested in sprucing up your looks a bit, then you might be wondering what a fun but also safe way to do it is. Many beauty industry experts state that one way to do so is to undergo a thread lift nose job. There are many reasons why this is such a beauty trend.

[andy-15-07]

hey guys fred weasley throwing my legs over his shoulders and fucks me so good he can’t help but laugh at the puddle i am before him hi

Wicked

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word count:1149

Harry Potter Masterlist | request (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Warnings: Smut (18+), oral (f receiving), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, aftercare, fluff

Fred Weasley had a gift for many things,blowing things up, bending rules, getting out of trouble with a grin,but making you completely lose your mind might’ve been his most potent magic.

You were tucked up in his room at the Burrow,summer air warm, windows cracked open, and the low sound of enchanted wireless humming lazily from the corner. You’d stolen one of his shirts again, the old one from the shop with the neckline stretched and sleeves too big, hanging off your shoulder just enough to drive him mad.

He was watching you from the foot of the bed, eyes raking over your body like he hadn’t just had you the night before. Or the morning before that. Or up against the bathroom sink not twelve hours ago.

You peeked over the top of your book, trying not to smirk.

“You’re staring.”

Fred didn’t deny it. “I am. You look so good like that. All casual. Comfy. Completely fuckable.”

You snorted, but your thighs pressed together.

“Bit needy today, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head, grin wolfish. “You calling me needy? You, who literally screamed my name loud enough last night I think the ghoul in the attic clapped for us?”

You laughed, and that laugh earned a low growl from him. He moved, slow and controlled, like a lion stalking prey,crawling up the bed until he was hovering above you, nose brushing your cheek.

“You calling me needy…” he whispered, dragging his lips across your jaw, “…while you’re sitting here, soaking through my shirt with your thighs clenched and pretending you don’t want me to ruin you.”

Your breath hitched. “Fred—”

“Let me eat you out, Y/N.”

“...what?”

He grinned. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, I just—no foreplay? No kissing? No—”

Fred’s hands were already sliding down your body. “Baby, we’ve been doing foreplay since the minute I saw you in my shirt. I’ve been suffering.”

He kissed down your neck, hands lifting the hem of the oversized tee until it bunched at your waist.

“I need you on your back. Legs over my shoulders. Right fucking now.”

You’d never obeyed so quickly in your life.

He slid your underwear down slowly, teasingly, sucking a kiss to your thigh as he settled between them.

“Look at this,” he said, voice in awe. “You’re already soaked. Merlin’s tits, love.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him,but then his tongue flattened against your clit, and all that came out was a moan so loud it echoed.

Fred groaned, latching on like he was starving. His tongue circled and licked, slow at first, building gradually, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding onto the last threads of control.

He loved eating you out. It was one of his favorite hobbies,up there with Quidditch and annoying Filch.

And he was good at it. Filthy. Passionate. Worshipful.

“Fuck, Fred—please—”

His fingers slid inside you just as his mouth closed around your clit again, and your back arched off the bed.

“That’s it, darling,” he murmured against you. “Let me hear you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as you whined, thighs shaking. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.

“Oh—fuck—I’m gonna—Fred—fuck—”

You came hard, grinding into his mouth, eyes screwed shut, legs trembling on either side of his head.

He moaned like he loved it,like tasting you was the highlight of his entire day.

And when he finally looked up, face soaked and smug, you were a breathless, blissed-out mess.

“You good?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You blinked at him. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He laughed so hard he had to lean on the bed for balance. “Holy fuck, Y/N. You’re literally a puddle.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really. You’re like—dripping. If you die, I’m blaming that book you ignored me for.”

You threw a pillow at him. He caught it with one hand and tossed it aside.

Then he was back on you,pulling off the rest of his clothes, lifting your hips like you weighed nothing.

“You think we’re done?” he teased.

You squeaked when he spread your legs and lined himself up. “I—Fred—wait—”

“Just a little more,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “I’ll go slow.”

But he didn’t. Not really.

Because the moment he sank into you, tight and warm and still twitching from your orgasm, his control shattered.

He groaned like you were the best feeling he’d ever known. “Fuck—fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight—how are you this perfect?”

You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders. “You’re huge, Fred—oh my god—”

His pace started steady, but it didn’t stay that way.

Every time he pulled out and pushed back in, he went deeper. Harder. Faster.

Your legs instinctively locked around his shoulders again, heels digging into his back as he slammed into you over and over.

Your moans were shameless now,raw and honest and wrecked.

Fred leaned down, face close to yours, grinning like he’d just discovered treasure.

“You love it,” he panted. “Being fucked like this. All stretched out and cock-drunk for me.”

You nodded helplessly, tears in your eyes from how good it felt.

“Say it,” he demanded, breath hot on your lips. “Tell me you love it.”

“I love it—I love it, Fred, please—”

“Please what, baby?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Never.”

His hand reached between you, fingers finding your clit again. Your body jolted at the stimulation, already too much and somehow not enough.

“You gonna come again for me?” he whispered, kissing your temple.

You nodded desperately. “Y-yeah—yes, fuck, please—”

“Good girl.”

That pushed you right over the edge.

You shattered beneath him with a scream, body spasming, stars bursting behind your eyes. Your walls clenched so tight around him, it pulled his orgasm out of him seconds later.

“Shit—Y/N—”

He buried himself deep, groaning your name like a prayer as he came hard inside you.

It was messy. Intense. Fucking glorious.

When he finally collapsed beside you, both of you breathless and sweaty and clinging to each other, the room was dead silent except for the ragged sounds of your breathing.

Then, softly:

“Still mad I interrupted your reading?”

You snorted into his chest. “I don’t even remember what the book was about.”

Fred chuckled, pulling you into his arms and kissing your forehead. “Exactly.”

You both laid there for a moment, tangled in sheets and limbs and sweat, before he grabbed his wand and muttered a quick cleaning spell with a flick.

You sighed. “That’s cheating.”

He smirked. “That’s magic.”

A beat passed. Then, softly, Fred looked down at you.

“Y’know I love you, right?”

You blinked. Heat rose to your cheeks. “What?”

He smiled. No teasing. No joke. Just Fred,completely sincere.

“I love you, Y/N. Like... all the time. Even when you’re ignoring me for books.”

You cupped his cheek. “I love you too.”

His grin widened. “Even when I turn you into a puddle?”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.

“Especially then.”

[woniesss]

ON YOUR OWN - jake had been craving you for years, and recently his head has been filling with pictures of you...on his bed...on the beach...maybe he could just do it on his own...while looking at you!

CONTAINS - nonidol!jake x female reader - GENRE - friends to lovers

MDNI - SMUT : swearing, unprotected sex (p in v), fingering, lots of kissing, pet names (baby, jakey), slight overstimulation, creampie, masturbation (m. receiving), does this count as slight public?? i mean they all be hearing this, dirty talk, titty play. i believe that is it, if i've missed anything please let me know!!

is this too long for a first fic?? i got a bit dedicated

a/n : hii!! this is my first time ever writing content on tumblr and on enhypen so if it's terrible please ignore itt! any feedback would be so great and i should hopefully be doing an introduction on my page soon so feel free to ask me any questions and i'll try to respond to them!

jake could not stop watching you. how dare you talk to jay over him? maybe he shouldn't have offered to bring you to meet his new college friends, because you'd spent the entire time talking to them, talking to him. what made jay so special? was it the fact he played guitar? jake would learn it for you. was it his casual but fancy clothes? jake would wear whatever you told him to.

the longer jake stared the more his frustration grew, the way your smile reached your eyes at jay's awfully cringe jokes made him clutch the glass in his hand harder. his head tilted back to rest on the sofa, his soft lips forming a pout as your attention shifts from jay to sunghoon, who had now sat on the other side of you.

but you weren't stupid, anyone could feel the heat from jake's gaze. and even though you thought you'd be strong enough to resist after years of being close friends, you couldn't stop yourself from turning towards the flame. his soft pout and puppy-dog eyes caused you to melt slightly, getting lost in him rather than the conversation sunghoon was attempting to have between you, him and jay. that was until jay stood up and started to walk towards the hallway.

"get ready, everyone else is already at the beach so we should head off soon."

you furrowed your eyebrows as you'd completely forgotten about the trip to the beach you had all planned out for when you got there. sunghoon shot up to go and get ready, your eyes following him before you felt the sofa dip again beside you.

arms curl around your waist as a head lays in the crook of your neck, snuggling slightly as you feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. it felt so normal, jake's nose nuzzling into the dip of your neck and collarbone, even more normal when your hand came up to thread through his hair. you guys had always been this close, barely ever separated at school, you had even planned to go to the same college next year, not only offering exactly what you wanted to do, but jake was there too. you guys would ignore the teasing, because at least you were comfortable with each other. as friends.

"should we go and get ready?"

you felt jake shake his head on your shoulder, "so tired, aren't you just so tired, don't you just want to come and lay down with me?"

you couldn't help but laugh at jake's attempt to get you to stay rather than going with the group to the beach.

"come on jakey, let's go get ready and we can spend the whole time laying down at the beach. you know i won't swim without you anyway."

he lifts his head from your shoulder, his face turning from a pout to a small smile, the one where he's simply just happy. the one he only ever gives to you. then he stands up, taking your hand and dragging you to his room, where your suitcase is. jake never bothered to make his room look appealing whenever you used to go to his house, so he definitely wasn't starting now. you smile at all the things in his room that make it his. and what you wish was yours too.

"you want me to head out while you change?"

you quickly shake your head as you unzip your suitcase, taking out the first two piece you could find along with a skirt to quickly throw on top.

"i'll just change in the bathroom, won't take long."

heading into the bathroom, you look back just as you go to close the door, catching a glimpse of jake taking his shirt off to swap to the tank top he'd laid on his bed. it wasn't like you hadn't seen jake shirtless before, but his back was just so wide and toned. the movement of his shoulders highlighted in the sunlight beaming into his bedroom. his changing physique from a scrawny teenage boy to muscles never failed to shock you, or draw you in. you feel your face flush as you finally shut the bathroom door, looking in the mirror at your now red face.

you couldn't understand why everything was feeling different with jake recently. you'd always denied having a crush on him at every opportunity you could get, but would liking him really be that bad? other than the intense fear of losing your closest friend, what did you have to lose?

changing as quickly as you could, you bring your clothes out of the bathroom and back into jake's room with you, throwing them onto your suitcase before sitting on the corner of jake's bed. your arms are thrown behind you, leaning back as you wait for jake to finish packing his bag next to you.

he turns to you, a light smile on his face as his eyes flicker around your face before slipping down quickly to look at your outfit. a skirt that wasn't long enough to hide your thighs from his gaze, bikini top hugging you perfectly, hair moved away from your shoulders showing him all of your chest. you being perched back, barely clothed on his bed...

jake's mind wandered no matter how hard he tried to stop it. all he had to do was move a few inches to the left and he'd be hovering over you. one tug at the strap of your bikini and he'd see what he'd been imagining for longer than he'd ever tell you. one pull at your skirt and the bottoms you wore underneath and he'd see something he'd rather drown in than go to the ocean. his teeth pulled sharply at his lip after a sharp inhale, his eyes moving back up to your face as your head tilted.

and his mind wandered again. but more to how much he wanted to kiss the little furrow of confusion away from your brows. how much he wanted to hold your face in his hands. to pull you down onto his bed and cuddle and sleep...and maybe more...damn you looked so good on his bed.

but jake couldn't let his mind go any further, standing up straight and closing his bag, holding his hand out for you to take so you guys could head off to the beach.

and the car ride wasn't any better.

you and jake were squished into the back as bags were piled onto the other seat, the trunk full with beach stuff. the feeling of your thigh pressed against jake's wasn't new but something about it drove him mad. the perfect press of your soft skin against his was something he couldn't take his eyes off. until he had to, when he felt the tickle of your hair against his shoulder after you rested your head there.

"you feeling tired, huh?"

"a little, maybe i should've taken you up on your offer, your bed was so comfy."

jake couldn't stop himself from pressing a gentle kiss on your hairline, his face flushing from the thoughts he had when you sat on his bed. his hand came over to rest gently on top of your hand, but you'd moved before he could, his hand landing on your thigh. yet neither of you moved away from the soft touch. a small squeeze from jake just to make sure you were comfortable with it, you snuggling impossibly closer to him.

god, jake just couldn't keep his eyes off of you, the way the sun beamed through the windows onto your face highlighting every feature he had memorised, his other hand began to reach up, caressing the side of your face softly before turning your head to face him. was this it?

your own eyes flickered across his face, his thick hair falling onto his forehead in that perfect way, his soft and deep brown eyes rushing all over your face, and his lips plush lips. then his soft grasp on your face turned into something more solid, a light tip to the corner of his lip changing the intention behind his eyes immediately as his eyes stayed on your lips. his beautiful nose brushed against yours, forcing your head to tilt to meet the direction he was moving to.

until the car lurched forward.

jay quickly pulling into the car park and pulling the hand break caused you and jake to awkwardly overlap from the proximity. his hand reached around your waist to pull you back into a sitting position rather than folded over, face moving round to check your face to see if you were ok. both of your faces were shades of the brightest pink, and being this close again did nothing to stop jake from going insane. the yank of his car door being opened by jay was the only thing stopping him from devouring you in the back seat.

while jay and sunghoon sprinted from the car to meet everyone else at the beach (leaving you and jake with all the stuff in the car), you offered to help jake carry the bags and lay out everything on the beach, which he refused. he laid the blanket flat on the sand, using the bags to weigh it down before pulling his tank top off and laying on his back.

his hands came down to push the band of his shorts lower on his hips, his v-line prominent, shadows below it from how defined it was. then, he pulled up the bottom of his shorts up to the tops of this thighs, his strong muscles on display. who in their right mind wouldn't stare? jake then moved his arms up to behind his head, resting back on them as he squinted up at you.

jesus, you were staring at him? he never thought he'd appreciate trying to bulk up as much as he did right now. he could feel his body as your eyes roamed everywhere, from the way his abs moved when he breathed to the way his legs would clench while he shuffled. he tightened his arms by his head, your eyes immediately moving to the flex before meeting his face.

jake's tongue darted out and wet his lips, deciding not to shy away from your gaze as your eyes met.

"come lay down with me...please?"

you remove your skirt, sitting next to him before reaching into his bag and pulling out sunscreen and holding it out for jake to take and help you. after taking the bottle from you hand, jake poured some into his hand before rubbing it into your back. starting softly at the top of your back, slowly moving down and pressing harder as he reached your waist. he pressed his fingers into your waist, making you lurch away from the tickling sensation before he grabbed you and pulled you back into him.

you didn't move away from him, his hands coming to wrap around you and hold you close. he reached over to grab the sunscreen again, before rubbing it in slowly on your arms, and your shoulders. then his hands came up to rub it slowly into your collarbones, his hands gliding down and accidentally catching your bikini, making your breath hitch.

while his hands rested on your stomach, your head leant back on his shoulder, watching the boys play about and push each other in the water. jake's thumb was brushing back and forth over your stomach before accidentally brushing the bottom of your breast. your breath hitched at the soft brush, leaning further into his body as the brushes continued.

jake's thoughts were racing again. what if right here on the beach he just glided his hands up higher, held your tits in his hands and palmed them while his friends were distracted? slipped one hand lower into your bottoms and brought you close. pulled your head to his and kissed you like there was nobody around, not caring if his friends saw him and teased him. the sight of your head moving out of the corner of his eyes stopped his train of thought.

your eyes darted around his face again, before stopping dead on his lips. you couldn't stop yourself from moving your head closer to his, feeling his eyes dart around your face as he bit his lip.

your moment is soon interrupted by the storming footsteps of jake's friends running up from the water to lay down. your heart raced like you've never been hugged by jake before. this was different though. he wasn't just hugging you, he was holding you, touching you and almost kissing you. and you've never wanted him more. the heat coming from his chest warmed you more than the sun did.

it made you nervous to be sleeping in the same bed as him later. the dark thoughts flooding your mind of being in the same bed that he did everything in. surely he hadn't been here long enough to touch himself yet. but the littlest thought of that made your breathing quicken. would he touch you with the same hand he touched himself with, or would he use the other so he could touch himself at the same time. god you just wanted to watch him. would he want that too?

as the sun started to set, you all moved towards the cars to head home. being in the sun all day should've worn you out but you were wide awake and flooded with thoughts of jake. some soft, like how he moved to hold your hand in the car again, but some darker, like how good that hand would feel all over your body.

after getting drinks and snacks, you and jake soon said goodnight to the boys and settled into his room. jake stuck on a random movie as you both laid back and got comfortable. despite your thoughts racing, you eased into sleep.

jake wished he could've fallen asleep that easily with you next to him, but the way the light bed sheets fell over your hips entranced him. the curve of your waist highlighted by the little moonlight coming through his window, hair falling away from your shoulder making the side of your neck show. he felt like a perv.

he reached his hand out to gently brush against your side, the soft murmur you let out causing a little groan to escape him. jake's head came to rest on your shoulder, before bringing his hand that wasn't brushing up and down your side to his groin. he'd never felt himself get this hard this fast before.

he reached into his pants and gripped himself as he moved back to look at you. his other hand now placed firmly on your waist before pushing the bedsheets down further to grip your hips. jake felt so wrong, but he couldn't help dragging his hand across his dick. he'd never been this sensitive, never been this desperate to get off. his movements quickened as the wet sounds of his pre-cum spreading over his dick filled the room.

the sound of you shifting made him pause, watching you move to lay on your front, still facing away from him, with your leg hiked up. the whine jake let out was pathetic as his hand started moving on himself again. his hips started to buck as he turned his face into his pillow to muffle the moans and whimpers he was shamelessly letting out.

struggling with this new position, jake pushed himself up onto his knees, tugging his pants down as his dick sprung up, the air causing him to shiver as his tip painted a little white streak on his abdomen.

he breached his hand behind him before he started pumping himself again. everything felt so new, never gotten this hard and desperate before, and never gotten so close this quickly before. his mouth opened wide, tongue breaching the edge of his mouth as his eyes racked up and down your body.

jake's eyes scrunched up his head was thrown back, letting out a loud moan that he was too far gone to worry about people hearing.

and because of this, he hadn't noticed you waking up and turning to face him. his long neck stretched with his thrown back head, his veiny arms leading down to his massive hand and thick fingers. thick fingers that were gripping his cock so hard his knuckles had turned white. your eyes traced his thighs supporting him before they move back up to his dripping tip. despite his strength, he looked so weak trembling and quivering above you.

it made you clench your thighs together as your slick drenched your panties. you hadn't realised just how hard you had been biting your lip until it started to ache from the pressure.

"j-jakey?"

his head snapped up to meet your gaze, but his rapid hand didn't stop. if anything it got faster.

"i-i'm so sorry baby- i couldn't-", he cut himself off with a moan, his head falling forward as his other hand came up to caress himself under his shirt, showing you a glimpse of his abs, "i'm so close baby just let me finish...please."

his desperation only caused you to become more aroused. where was the confident guy watching you like his final meal? here he was in front of you begging, on the verge of tears just for you to let him cum.

"you wanna cum while looking at me jakey, is that what it is?"

jake rapidly nodding his head, his other hand coming round to grip his balls as his eyes traced over your face before meeting your eyes and not wavering. his moans grew as his hand came up to muffle his cries as he came hard, spurts of hot white came and landed on his sheets next to you as you sat up.

quiet sobs came from jake as he shrunk into himself, "i'm so sorry baby, that was so filthy, i'm sorry..."

"no don't apologise jakey."

your hands came up to hold his face and move it upwards to look at you. jake's face was flushed bright red from the previous exertion and the fresh tears streaming down it. your eyes trailed from his big brown eyes to his bitten lips, unable to stop yourself from leaning in and smashing your lips against his.

the whimper he let out was disgraceful, both his hands now gripping your waist as he pushed you down onto his bed. his lips flush against yours as his hands rushed to tug on your pants.

"c-can i?"

you nodded your head as his hands pushed your pants and underwear down, leaning back to look at you open and exposed to him. a quick fuck was muttered before his arms move up to rush his shirt off, followed by his pants, leaving him completely naked in front of you. you followed, taking your shirt off and leaning back on your elbows as both of your eyes roamed each other's body.

"fuck, you're beautiful."

you grew flushed under his gaze and his admission. you stretched your arm out to him, hand open, and jake's head came down to lay in your hand as you pulled him back to your lips.

his hand glided up from your knees to the inside of your thigh, before his thumb parted your folds and brushed against your clit causing you to let out a soft moan into his mouth.

"jesus you're so wet baby, did you enjoy watching me get off that much?"

"like you can talk, you're the one cumming from watching me sle-"

you cut yourself off with a loud moan as jake moved his thumb away and replaces it with two fingers moving up and down your folds, smirking at himself. his two fingers then moved away from your clit and pressed against your clenching hole. your breathing stops as you jerk your hips into his hand, before his fingers slowly press into your core.

you immediately clench around his thick fingers, a breathy moan escaping from you as your hands come together to hold jake's arm. you tits pressed together, jake practically drooling at the sight before coming down to mouth at your chest. his fingers continued to pump into you while his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking lightly as you whine out. one of your hands came up to grip his hair as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. you wetness began to pour out of you, dripping onto his hands as he began to scissor his fingers inside of you opening you up.

he curled his fingers inside you, brushing against your walls with his broad fingertips. his lips moved from one breast to the other, his other hand coming up to grip the one he just left slicked and sucked. his moved his lips to roam over your chest and collarbones as his fingers still moved rapidly inside of you, sucking and nipping to bruise your skin.

jake's thoughts were racing as your body reacted to him, feeling himself get just as hard as before, maybe even harder at how wet you were and the sounds you were letting out. the hot squelch of your pussy as his fingers filled you caused his hips to buck into nothing, wanting nothing more than to be filling you rather than his fingers but he wanted to make sure you were open enough for him. he didn't want to hurt you. not that his dick was massive, but it was bigger than average and thick, a perfect stretch for your tight pussy that he was currently trying to widen for him.

just as his thumb came up to press against your clit, you whined out at the overstimulation as your eyes roll back from you cumming, clenching tightly around his fingers. but jake doesn't stop.

"jake i- fuck! jake i already came!"

"i know baby but i gotta make sure your nice and open to take me."

jake finally moves away from sucking your tits and chest, leaving behind purpling marks that he'll be even prouder of tomorrow. you gasp as he pulls his fingers out of you, going to close your legs before his hand comes down to hold your thigh tightly.

"don't close 'em baby, you gotta let me in."

using his hand slicked up from your heat, jake pumps himself a few times before leaning down to brush the tip of his cock through your folds. he was so thick, his mushroom tip barging its way through your folds before pressing into your tight hole. the moans you both let out were loud and whiny, neither of you caring about the rest of the dorm hearing you both. jake's jaw dropped, his eyebrows screwing as he pushes himself further into your soaked heat.

your walls pulsed around him, jake felt as though he could feel your heartbeat through you clenching. your hands came round to his hips, gripping them before pushing him backwards slightly, telling him that he could start to move his hips. he brought his hands up, barely touching your thighs with his fingertips before gripping the backs of your knees and pulling out, before pushing himself in again.

the drag of his cock against your plush walls drove you both mad. jake's thrusts began slow, allowing him to feel and see exactly what made you feel good. he already began brushing against that perfect spot inside of you that made your mouth fall open and your eyebrows furrow. soon enough, the slow pace became too little for him, picking up speed and strength behind the glide of his hips.

jake feels his cock throb inside of you, the soaking cushion of your walls sending him into overdrive as he loses his control. you looked so perfect underneath him, tits bouncing and face lost in pleasure.

it was better than anything he could've ever imagined.

no matter what he thought of earlier, from the thoughts of you sat on the corner of his bed, to anything he was thinking at the beach, none of it compared. he had finally gotten his hands on you after years of trying not to pine too obviously with a hard cock in his pants praying you wouldn't notice. or praying that you would. anytime he fucked his hand thinking of you wouldn't beat this, his eyes going fuzzy from your walls fluttering around him.

your hands moved up from his hips to his arms, dragging down them and gripping his hand before he moved it to hold yours next to your head. him now leaning over you caused him to drag your knee up with him, pressing you further into the now creaking bed, and changing the position making him feel even deeper inside of you. his head dipped to rest in your neck, suckling and biting, leaving more marks all over you, before he leaned up to your ear.

"fuck baby- you feel so good, never leaving this pussy, you feel me here?"

jake's hand moved from your leg to your stomach, pressing down to feel his cock moving inside of you.

"fucking you good baby, belong in here, yeah?"

you start nodding your head as the pressure from his hand adds to the pleasure, your hand coming down to lay over his before he grabs it and pushes it where his was laying. the moan you let out was borderline pornographic, knowing he was big enough and pumping you hard enough to feel him in your stomach. his tip continued to hit that spot inside of you that had you panting and your moans getting higher and higher.

threading your fingers through his hair, you bring his head up so you can kiss along his pretty neck and chest, leaving even prettier purple bruises all across him. but before you could continue marking him up, you throw your head back with a loud moan at the feeling of jake's fingers toying with your clit again.

"t-too much jakey, gonna cum!"

"that's what-", he gets cut off by his own loud moan as you clench harder around him, "that's what i'm aiming for baby." he leans down closer to your ear again, "wan' cum with you but if you keep squeezing me like that i'll fucking cum."

jake moves back, sitting on his knees as his thrusts continue, gripping your hips and dragging them on his dick to match his pace. they become sloppier and more desperate, as the moans he was letting out turn into higher pitch whines as he bites his lip. the moon illuminated the droplets of sweat forming at his collarbones dripping down the dips of his abs, your eyes following the trail before watching the way his soaked cock pushes in and out of you.

"fuck jakey, want it so bad!"

his eyes flit up to you despite you still watching the movement of his hips, "you want it baby? come on, give it to me and i'll cream you- fuck- i'll fill you up."

his words finally tip you over the edge, eyes closing and back arching into the air as you let out the loudest moan of the night. you hear a fuck fuck fuck before feeling jake's white hot cum fill you to the brim. his thrusts continue until neither of you can physically handle it anymore, a white ring forming around the base of his cock sticking to you and his pelvis, both of you whimpering from the overstimulation causing him to pull out, his cum seeping out of you but neither of you caring.

jake crashes down on top of you, burying his head into your neck while pressing lighter kisses than the ones he was placing on you a few minutes prior. you feel his lips trace up higher, brushing your jaw before he resting his head on his hand. you turned to face him, now in close proximity to his flushed and wet cheeks from sweat, his lips red raw and bitten, his eyes lazed and dead set on your eyes. his hair covered his forehead, stuck and messy, causing you to bring your head up to push it out of his face, his eyes closing and resting his head in the palm of your hand as your thumb caresses his cheek.

soon, your thumb drifts down to his lips, stroking the soft plush as he opens his eyes, a small smirk taking over his lips, "you want a kiss baby?"

you nod your head as he rests his elbow on the bed, stretching over you and leaning down slowly before pressing his lips against yours. this was much softer than your first kiss, the pressure of lust no longer behind it. jake's hand came up to softly grasp the side of your face, brushing your hair away before holding the side of your neck as his thumb moved gently across your jaw. as he pulled away, his nose stayed against yours, as a bright smile takes over his whole face as a chuckle escapes him.

"what's so funny?"

"can't believe we just did that...and i can't believe we have to face the boys tomorrow after it."

you whack his shoulder as you push him down to lay next to you on the bed, before crossing your leg over his as you cuddle into him.

"not my fault you got hard like a virgin with a girl in his bed for the first time."

jake scoffed before digging his finger into your side making you squirm before wrapping his arms tighter around you, his thumbs stroking your sides.

"can you blame me baby? you just looked so perfect with the moon shining on you and everything...been thinking about it all day."

you look up at him, watching him as he shuts his eyes ready to drift off.

"jake..."

he frowns at being called jake as opposed to the normal name you always gave him, and the one you had been moaning for the last half an hour.

his eyes open and look down at you, "yeah baby?"

"what are we now..."

"well i'd hope you'd be my girlfriend, thought that was a given."

you smack his chest at the mocking tone in his voice, "maybe i won't be, you've not even asked me." your head moves back to lay on his chest rather than staring up at him until you feel his grasp come back and move your head to look back up at him.

"will you please be my girlfriend baby? i'll get back on my knees if i have to."

you blush at his last sentence, images of the past events flushing your mind away from the current situation before getting back on track.

"of course i will jakey."

jake bends down to kiss you once more before tucking your head into the crook of his neck, both of you beginning to doze off with the soft breeze and moonlight basking your bodies.

THE NEXT MORNING

you and jake walk hand in hand down the stairs and into the kitchen to make breakfast, jake in nothing but a pair of sweatpants sitting low on his hips and you in a pair of his shorts and his shirt. jake moves around the kitchen with ease, pulling out random ingredients and sitting them next to where you've sat on the counter.

the sound of footsteps causes you both to freeze midway through your light conversation. sunoo walks through the doorway, rubbing his eyes and face before stopping in his tracks as he sees you two in the kitchen. the dark circles under his eyes prominent as his face stretches into a yawn.

"jesus sunoo, you good? looks like you've had no sleep."

jake asked in all seriousness and concern, like he'd forgotten the whole night. not his fault he had an amazing sleep after.

"i'll let you two decide whether i, or anyone else in this house for that matter, got enough sleep last night."

sunoo's eyes were squinted at the two of you as he pointed accusatory, making both yours and jake's faces flush more red that the apple sunoo grabbed from the side as he started walking out of the kitchen. he was about to leave and turn into the living room before stopping at the doorway and turning around, this time having a cheeky smile on his face.

"congratulations by the way, we were all wondering when it would happen judging by the way you two were eye-fucking each other yesterday but did it have to be on the day? you just made us all have to do jungwon's laundry for the week cause he won the bet."

he muttered the last bit as he walked away, jake turning back to face you with utter shock on his face, "well, can't get much worse than that reaction."

that was until you hear jay's voice boom from the hallway, followed by sunoo's cackle.

"where are they? don't laugh sunoo i'm running on two hours of sleep! you know i struggle getting back to sleep once i wake up!"

yours and jake's eyes widen before jake speaks again, "hide?"

you both start laughing as jay waltzes into the kitchen, shutting you both up as jake grabs you from the counter and sprints round the kitchen island to avoid jay running after the both of you, bolting back to his room as he throws you onto the bed.

jay stops at the door as jake collapses next to you, glaring at you both before saying, "you two are lucky i don't want to step foot in here after last night."

you both cackle before jay walks away after closing the door, turning to each other with the widest smiles stretched over your faces, leaning in to kiss each other slowly, smoothly.

if you made it down here, thank you so much for reading!!

sign out, woniesss!

[littlelamy]

your laundry room smelled like dryer sheets and that soft coconut body wash you always used; your pink panties were soaking in the little tub by the sink. you leaned against the dryer in your slippers and tiny shorts, sipping from a cup containing your milkshake while rafe rolled his sleeves up beside you, already scowling at the delicate fabric between his fingers.

“i still don’t get why we’re hand washing these,” he muttered, lifting a sheer lace pair—baby pink with a little satin bow. “you got, what, twenty pairs just like this?”

“because,” you said sweetly, twirling pieces of your hair, “they’re special. if they go in the wash, they’ll get ruined. and then what would i wear to make you cum so quick?”

his eyes flicked up at you. “you could wear a paper bag and i’d still be quick shooter.”

you grinned. “aw..how romantic.”

he dipped the panties back into the sudsy water, fingers gentle, careful even as he kept grumbling under his breath. you watched the way his strong hands worked—big knuckles brushing across lace, thumbs pressing into soap-slick silk.

“this one’s ridiculous,” he said, holding up a baby blue thong. “this barely counts as fabric.”

“that one’s your favorite,” you reminded him.

he paused and smirked. “yeah. ‘cause it’s easy to rip off.”

you laughed, nearly choking on your milkshake. “rafe!”

he shrugged, like he didn’t say anything outrageous at all. “i’m just sayin’. some of these aren’t even for coverage. they’re decorations.”

“they make me feel pretty.”

he reached for the next one, a tiny white pair with cherries embroidered on the front. “you are pretty. don’t need five-dollar floss to prove it.”

you kicked his leg lightly. “they’re not five dollars.”

“baby, these are held together by threads.”

you leaned in, nudging his shoulder with your nose. “and how do they smell?”

he stopped sniff the underwear, eyes slowly filling with lust.

“sweet,” he said. “like you and a little bit of vanilla.”

you blushed, sipping again. “i was playing you’re not supposed to smell them. we’re washing them.”

he dipped the next pair into the water and scrubbed it gently, thumbs working in slow circles.

“this one’s cute,” he said, glancing at you. “you wore it on that night we watched that trashy movie and you fell asleep on my chest before the first scene ended.”

you gasped. “you remember?”

“you think i forget what you wear under your clothes?” he leaned in, voice lower now. “i have a whole fuckin’ archive, sweetheart.”

your face burned. “that’s so dirty.”

he raised an eyebrow. “you own thirty pairs of crotchless panties and i’m the dirty one?”

“they’re for variety.”

he laughed, shaking his head. then held up a pair with strawberries on the front and lace ruffles at the sides. “if i ever see this on, it’s over for you.”

you took a sip, biting your lip to hide the smile. “noted.”

he rinsed the last few pairs, hanging them neatly on the rack by the window. the sun hit them just right—pink and cream and candy-colored, fluttering like little flags. you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, cheek pressed to his back. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“i just hand washed eight pairs of what i think were legally considered doll clothes,” he said dryly. “i better get a trophy.”

“you get me,” you whispered.

he turned in your arms, wiping his wet hands on a towel before cupping your face. “yeah,” he said. “hm, i just i’d do it again.”

❤︎‬ tags below

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[ragingbookdragon]

She huffs lightly when she hears the low growl of the familiar soldier in the room next door, followed by her nurse griping and trying to work with him. Entering behind, she lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Go on, Paula, I got him,” she says with a smile and Paula practically screams in relief as she leaves the exam room.

She gives him a fond smile. “Now, Lieutenant, what have I said about antagonizing my nurses?”

He scowls at her. “I don’t like ‘em.”

“I know but I still need you to be kind when they’re simply trying to do their jobs.”

“I don’t like anyone touchin’ me but you.” He’s still scowling behind his mask, holding his side where she can see the black material stained a darker color.

“Well aren’t I special,” she murmurs, closing the exam room door before walking over. “You know the drill.”

He lifts his sweatshirt wordlessly along with the t-shirt he’s got underneath and she sighs at the sight of a cut about four inches long riding up his ribs.

“Do I even want to know how?” She asks.

“Trainin’ with Soap,” he mutters. “‘e’s a slippery lit’le bastard when ‘e needs to be.”

She snorts and goes about pulling on a pair of latex gloves before she begins to clean his wound with antiseptic. He doesn’t make a sound though she knows it stings like a bitch and the only show of irritation from him is the way his muscle ripple beneath her touch.

“I thought I said not to get wounded anymore.”

“Didn’t listen,” he simply shrugs.

“If I had half a mind, I’d assume you did this on purpose so you could come see me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter you’self. I don’t like you that much.”

A laugh escapes her as she checks the depth, ultimately deciding on a few stitches for his wound. “Oh I know you like me plenty, Simon.”

Simon.

She only says his name in privacy when no one can hear them. He hates the way his chest feels funny, sternum scratchy with an itch he can’t get to.

“‘S Lieutenant,” he retorts.

“Of course, of course,” she hums. “My most sincerest apologies, Lieutenant Riley.”

He scowls again but that itch returns when she begins to stitch his wound carefully.

After a few minutes, she sets the clipped thread down and admires her handiwork. “All done, sweetheart,” she says with a gentle smile and wipes it carefully before putting a bandage on it. “Don’t get it wet and—”

“Keep it dry and clean,” he finishes. “I know.”

She laughs and pokes the nose to his mask. “Maybe one day you will learn.”

She watches as he redresses himself before standing, waving off the bottle of pills she hands to him.

“Don’t need ‘em.”

“It’s just some ibuprofen, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” he repeats with a growl and she rolls her eyes.

“You are so stubborn for no reason,” she says and places her hands on her hips. “And after all the care I just gave you.”

He looks at her for a solid moment before he leans over and kisses her cheek through his mask. “Thank you, love,” he mutters. “For takin’ care of me.”

She goes uncharacteristically quiet, cheeks getting hot and he smirks at her.

“Ain’t got nothin’ to say? Cat got your tongue?”

She glares at him half-heartedly. “Get out of my clinic, Lieutenant.”

As he heads for the door, he pauses and looks at her. “It’s Simon, to you.” He says, and closes the door behind him.

[holeforzenin]

Toji doesn’t even flinch when he feels the softness of your face press against his hip. The steady rhythm of the knife hitting the cutting board doesn’t slow— not even when your nose nudges along the waistband of his sweatpants and you hum quietly, your breath warm against the growing bulge underneath the thin fabric.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” he asks, voice smooth and casual like you’re not blatantly rubbing your face against his cock while he slices bell peppers for dinner. His eyes stay on the cutting board, hands still methodical but there’s the smallest twitch in his jaw.

You nuzzle a little harder like a kitten, dragging your cheek across the bumpy outline of him and he slowly exhales through his nose.

“Feels good…” you mumble lowly, lips ghosting over the swell beneath the cotton. “Missed you”.

Toji finally glances down, eyes flicking to where you’re all curled up against his thigh, delicate hands fisting the hem of his shirt, your face tucked into his crotch like it’s comforting to you or something.

A lazy smirk tugs at his mouth. “Yeah? You miss this, baby?” His free hand lifts to cradle the back of your head, fingers gentle as he strokes through your hair and pets you. “Could’ve just asked for attention like a normal girl, y’know”.

You shake your head, nuzzling again, a soft whine in your throat. “Wanna be close… need it”.

He groans low in his throat, the sound quiet and barely there. You feel him twitch under the fabric, girthy and heavy, and it makes you squirm a little, your thighs rubbing together as slick pools into your panties.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters, affection threaded in the rasp of his voice. “You’re lucky I’m tryna make dinner, or I’d bend you over this counter so fast—”

You immediately moaned lowly at his words because that’s exactly what you need right now.

Your face is pressed tight against him now like you’re trying to melt into the warmth of him. “Can I stay here while you cook?” you whisper. “Wanna feel you”

He huffs a quiet laugh, not even pretending to be annoyed. “Fine, kiddo. But you start making messes, I’m gonna finish my meal and yours before I deal with you. Got it?”

You obediently nod, smiling as you nuzzle again, very content to cling to him while he keeps chopping like nothing’s out of the ordinary. But now… now his bulge is pressing a little firmer and rough against your soft cheek. And his breaths are just a little bit heavier.

Maybe dinner could.. wait?

[velarisdusk]

Drunk on You

Azriel x Reader

summary: You and Azriel were just friends. Then came the dancing. The kiss. The night you stopped pretending. word count: 11.1k content: [ explicit sexual content (piv), oral sex (f receiving), grinding in da club (do i need to warn abt that??), explicit language, alcohol, VERY irresponsible consumption of alcohol, vomiting from drinking, FUI (flying under the influence) ] author's note: FUI arent i so funny lmfao as per usual with these, i know prythian doesnt have speakers/subwoofers , and prob also doesnt have strobe lights, but i write what i want so its ok yall can deal ✦ . 1k Celebration Apothecary . ✦ shadowed elixir infused with a dash of blaze enhanced with lover’s knot stirred thank you @wildfloweroutlaw for the request!! i've never written a fic specifically having friends to lovers in mind so my mental block gave me a bit of trouble with this but i had a lot of fun writing it! <3

Velaris hums with life around you, the midday sun painting golden ribbons across cobblestone streets. The air is thick with the scent of spiced cider and honeyed pastries, threaded through with the briny whisper of the Sidra. Laughter swells and fades between vendors calling out their wares—bolts of silk that shimmer like liquid light, books with gilded spines that promise adventures, trinkets that glint like they’ve been kissed by starlight.

“It’s the pacing that makes it brilliant,” you say, sidestepping a wobbly cart stacked with jars of something dark and suspiciously jiggly. “You’d love it if you gave it a chance.”

Azriel walks beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark-wash jeans, his only accompanying shadow slinking along sun-warmed stones like it’s sulking. He’s a strange silhouette in the golden light—too dark for a day like this, like the night followed you out of habit. But he listens, quiet and steady, nodding at the right moments as you ramble about the last book you read. You’ve learned to hear the shape of his silences—how they stretch or shorten, the weight of them, what they hold back.

“I’m telling you,” you press, dodging a knot of children weaving through the crowd, “if you actually gave it a shot, you’d love it.”

Azriel huffs a soft laugh. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time. You’re just too stubborn to admit I have impeccable taste.”

The corner of his mouth lifts—barely. “You bought a book last month because the cover had a dragon making out with a sword.”

You gasp, scandalized. “That’s called intuition.”

“No. That’s called a gamble.”

You bump your elbow against his arm, grinning when he exhales through his nose. That small, hard-won sound. This—this is easy. Has always been.

As the crowd thickens, your attention snags on a jewelry stall to your left—slim chains catching the sun, gemstones winking in their delicate settings. At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze strays to a weapons vendor on the right, where a gleaming dagger is being turned over in calloused hands.

You both hesitate. Then look back at each other at the same time.

Azriel raises a brow.

You smile. “Meet you in a minute?”

He dips his chin in a slight nod, already angling toward the stall, fingers twitching like they’re itching for the weight of the blade. You drift toward the jewelry, drawn in by instinct more than intent. Your fingers trail over thin rings and polished charms, the glint of metal catching the light just right.

A pair of dangling earrings stops you—stones that shift hue in the sun, subtle and soft. Pretty. Eye-catching without being too much. The kind of thing that might go with the dress you picked up earlier while wandering the boutiques, half-killing time before the market. The one you hadn’t planned on trying, but slipped into just for fun. A little more daring than your usual. Soft in all the right ways, with a neckline you kept pretending not to think about. 

You’d stared at yourself longer than you meant to.

And walked out with your first shopping bag of the day.

You curl your fingers around the earrings, already halfway through justifying the purchase in your head.

It doesn’t take long to browse. After paying and a few lingering looks, you glance across the street to find Azriel still at the weapons stall, turning the dagger over in his hands. His expression is unreadable—calm, analytical, like he’s weighing something only he understands. The single shadow drifts across his back, restless beneath the unrelenting sun.

Your gaze finds him without thought. A habit carved over time. Familiar, even after everything, in that quiet, unconscious way habits become part of you. 

You blink and turn away just as he looks up. He’s already moving, steps unhurried, wings tucked in close, hands slipping into his pockets again as he falls into stride beside you.

“Anything good?” you ask lightly.

Azriel shrugs. “Steel’s folded differently—strong but light. Good balance. Sharp edge.” He huffs at himself. “It’s a good blade.”

You roll your eyes. “Careful—Truthteller’s going to get jealous.”

His mouth twitches. “There’s no one like her,” he murmurs, and his hand brushes the small of your back as he steers you out of the path of two shrieking children.

He nods toward the bag in your hand. “Let’s see it.”

You fish out the black velvet box and flip it open with a grin. “For the dress!”

Azriel snorts. “You mean that napkin you bought earlier?”

You snap the box shut a little too forcefully. “It’s a nice dress.”

“It’s barely a scarf.”

“Azriel.”

The full name earns you another twitch of a smile. His voice lowers, amused. “I still don’t know where you plan on wearing it. I’ve seen you more hesitant to leave the House in sweaters.”

Your cheeks warm. “Well, I didn’t feel as confident in those.”

His brow rises slightly, like he hadn’t expected that answer. Your voice is lighter when you add, “Maybe you’re just nervous you won’t be able to handle seeing me in it.”

“I’ll manage,” Azriel says dryly. “It’s your delusion I’m worried about.”

You bump his shoulder again, and this time he lets the smile break free. The two of you fall into easy conversation—Cassian’s most recent baking disaster (“explosive,” Azriel says without inflection), café gossip, a gentle debate about whether Velaris even needed the twelfth coffee shop to begin with.

At the townhouse, Azriel steps ahead to hold the door open, shadow trailing in behind him. The antechamber hums with warmth—laughter echoing from the next room, spices lingering in the air.

“I’m telling you, I found it just sitting there,” Cassian insists as you enter. He’s pacing like he’s testifying in court, hands gesturing wildly. “Brand new bottle of amber whiskey. Uncorked. Untouched. In a bush.”

“In a bush?” Mor deadpans from the couch.

Cassian gestures wildly. “In a bush! Behind the stables! What are the odds?”

Mor narrows her eyes. “Any chance you’re feeling lucky enough to gamble?”

They lock eyes, Cassian’s grin curling at the edges.

Feyre perks up from her place on the sofa. “If gambling means Rita’s, I’m in. I haven’t gone out in weeks, and I plan to be very irresponsible tonight.”

All three turn to you with matching looks—expectant and conspiratorial, like they’ve already know your answer but want to hear you say it. Feyre’s smile is the worst of them—sweet and smug and knowing.

You glance at Azriel. He’s already sighing, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose like he can feel the impending headache.

“Guess we know when—”

“Yeah, alright,” Azriel mutters.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You lean in toward the mirror, smoothing a final sweep of gloss over your lips. Then you take a step back, letting your eyes rake over your reflection. Hair styled just how you like it—precise where it matters, undone where it doesn’t—and your makeup? Soft, glowing, and just sharp enough to slice. The kind that shines when the light catches your cheekbones and mouth.

Behind you, Feyre whistles low. “He’s going to eat his words.”

Mor, sprawled on the bed in a pose that screams practiced indifference, smirks. “And probably choke on them.”

You snort, reaching for the earrings you bought earlier. “It’s not for him.”

Feyre slides up beside you, linking her arm through yours as she catches your eye in the mirror. “Maybe not. But you wouldn’t mind if he looked.”

She’s not wrong.

Mor rises in a stretch, her plum dress catching every sliver of light as it hugs her curves like a secret. The hem’s scandalous, the neckline worse—and with her golden hair cascading over one bare shoulder, she looks like she could topple empires with a single breath. Feyre’s in a slate blue that borders on silver, cool-toned and backless, the color making her blue eyes even more piercing beneath  artfully smudged liner. And with her soft waves pinned just so, she looks like smoke made woman.

You fasten your earrings with a quiet click and smile at your reflection. You feel good. Confident. Not just in the dress, but in your skin. 

There was a time when what you felt for him lived quietly in your chest—soft, persistent, and patient. Over time, it faded into something else. Something easier. You let it go long before anyone knew you were holding on.

But it never disappeared completely. Not really. Not in a way that matters. Not in a way that would stop you, if he ever hinted at wanting something more.  

Downstairs, the low murmur of male voices curls up the staircase from the sitting room. That deep, familiar hum threaded with laughter. It’s comfortable and easy. The kind of sound born from long nights, drinks shared, and old stories retold—brothers teasing one another into comfort. 

Cassian’s laugh is unmistakable—loud and unrestrained over the clink of glass. Rhysand’s is more of a drawl, lazy and pleased with itself. And then there’s Azriel. Low, steady. A quiet current that runs beneath them all, silk wrapped around steel.

The sound of heels on the stairs draws their attention—Cassian’s first. He whistles, low and appreciative, as Mor appears at the top step, her dress catching the light with every step. Rhysand gives an exaggerated bow from where he’s perched on the arm of the couch. Even Azriel lets his gaze linger, just a touch longer than polite, before returning it to his drink.

Then comes Feyre, laughing at whatever wicked comment Mor whispered over her shoulder. Rhysand is off the couch and moving before she’s even halfway down, reaching for her hand like gravity’s got nothing on the pull she has on him. He murmurs something low against her ear as he takes her hand, earning an eye roll and a muttered warning that sounds suspiciously like a threat. He grins like a male entirely too pleased with himself.

And then—

You. 

The last to appear. Not intentionally, of course. But you’d be lying if you said the timing didn’t work in your favor. 

There’s a pause—just a breath—but enough. Enough to feel it.

Cassian is the first to recover. “Damn,” he says, voice a little rougher than before.

Mor beams, smug and delighted, as if she’s taking personal credit. Rhys gives a low hum of approval, already spinning something cocky to say—but whatever it is goes unheard.

Because Azriel’s gaze is already there, fixed on the landing, like he’d been watching the space just waiting for you to step into it. And when you do, he doesn’t look away. 

His stare lands heavy—enough to steal the air from your lungs. 

You wait for the usual—some sharp, clipped remark, maybe a too-smooth deflection. But instead—

“...Huh.”

That’s it.

A single, unimpressed syllable that cuts through the air like a blade dipped in ice.

You blink. Huh?

He doesn’t elaborate. Just turns back toward Cassian, nodding at his shirt—half unbuttoned, chest on shameless display as if confidence could count as tailoring. “Bold of you to challenge her like that. One of you’s going to end up hypothermic.”

Cassian grins like he’s been handed a gift. “At least I’m not stuffed into those jeans you’re trying to pass off as comfortable. One wrong move and we’ll be calling a healer.”

Azriel’s lips twitch, barely. He doesn’t rise to the bait. Just takes a slow sip of his drink.

Your eyes drop of their own accord. Those jeans are unforgivable. So is the way they fit him.

You force your gaze away, descending the final step with all the poise you can muster.

Cassian, with a mischievous grin, offers his arm like it’s second nature. “Guess we’ll be whores together tonight.”

You loop your arm through his with a grin that could make the Mother herself blush. “Fine. But I’m the classier whore. More expensive.”

He barks a laugh, delighted. “High-class whore. Got it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Mor teases, stealing the rest of Rhys’ drink without a shred of remorse (he mutters a tight ‘Hey’ through clenched teeth, swatting at his cousin as she ducks away).

Feyre checks the time with mock exasperation. “Stay any longer and we’ll miss half the night.”

“Then let’s go,” Mor cheers, grabbing you and Cassian like a female on a mission.

And then—chaos. Magic coils, wind rushes, the floor disappears beneath your feet.

A heartbeat later, you’re outside, blinking against the lights and noise of Rita’s.

Your stomach flips—like it always does. It never gets easier.

Music pulses from the open doors, thick in the night air, and faelights paint the pavement in deep gold and violet. Mor’s fingers slip from your wrist; she’s already halfway to the entrance, weaving through the crowd like it’s parting for her. 

The cool night clings to your skin, but the heat radiating from the club ahead makes it all feel alive, electric with possibility. The air is saturated with cologne, alcohol, and the faintest hint of smoke as you approach the bouncers. The low hum of the waiting crowd blends with the deeper thrum of bass that threatens to crack open the night. 

The moment you step inside, the atmosphere hits—thick and heavy with energy. The music is deafening, the bass a living thing that thrums through your chest, infecting your limbs with a restless kind of excitement. Faelights strobe in wild streaks—purple, blue, red—and for a second, it feels as though you’re in some kind of dream. 

Feyre pulls you into the crowd first, her grin wide and wicked as she leads the way toward the bar. Mor follows close behind, laughing, already calling out to familiar faces. The guys trail after—quieter, maybe, but impossible to miss in the way they cut through the crowd. 

Drinks are ordered. Jokes fly. Within minutes, your group claims a half-circle booth just off the dance floor. It doesn’t take long for the music to pull you all in. Cassian downs half his drink and drags Mor out first, the two of them already moving like they’ve danced together a thousand times—and they probably have. Feyre loops her arm around your waist, eyes glinting beneath the lights. “Come on,” she yells over the music.

You don’t need convincing.

Rhys just waves you off with a smirk, already settling into the booth like he plans to stay there all night. 

The next stretch of time blurs—song bleeding into song, breathless laughter and clinking glasses, the bass settling into your chest like a second heartbeat. The lights cast everything in hues of violet and electric blue, cutting shadows across flushed skin and gleaming teeth. You’re dancing with Feyre, the two of you falling into easy rhythm. Mor and Cassian egg each other on nearby, reckless and unbothered, like children left unsupervised. 

At one point, Mor grabs your hand and twirls you fast enough to make your head spin. You stumble into her, both of you breathless with laughter, alcohol making everything weightless.

Feyre slips between you and Mor, twirling with abandon, her hair catching the light like strands of liquid gold. Off to the side, you spot Cassian mid-charm offensive, working a pair of females with that lethal grin—the kind that guarantees more than they can handle. Judging by their reaction, it’s going well. Rhys lounges nearby, nursing his drink and watching Feyre with a crooked grin, content to let her shine. 

But a few beats later Feyre drifts away from you both, drawn by something only she and Rhys can hear. Across the floor, Azriel leans against a column in the shadows, arms crossed, the picture of cool disinterest. You throw him an exaggerated beckoning gesture—all wide eyes and mouthed dramatics. Mor mirrors you, adding a pout for effect. 

He doesn’t move, just shakes his head, unimpressed. 

You and Mor exchange a look—then stick your tongues out at him, childish and triumphant. 

You think you catch the ghost of a smile. 

Then Cassian appears beside him, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, mischief written all over his face. “Her friend’s cute,” he shouts over the music. “Be a good wingman.”

To your surprise, Az lets it happen. 

As he moves past, his arm brushes against yours—barely a touch, but enough to feel. He angles toward the other female—tall, elegant, with dark eyes and a laugh that rings above the music. She’s beautiful in a way that turns heads. 

Still, some stubborn part of you insists she’s not that pretty. Not compared to you. 

The thought surfaces unbidden—and you shut it down just as fast. Jealousy doesn’t suit you. And this? This isn’t that. 

To anyone watching, Azriel looks engaged. His smile is easy, even bordering on smug, and he leans in like he means it. But you know better. That’s your best friend. You see the signs: the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes skim past her, too fast and too often.

Which is probably why you keep catching him glancing your way. 

Or maybe you’re reading too much into it. Maybe it’s the alcohol, the lighting, the way this dress hugs your curves like a second skin. Still… you’d swear his gaze lingered. And not just on your face. 

The music shifts—louder, dirtier, the kind that grabs your spine and doesn’t let go. Mor’s gone to get drinks, and for the first time tonight, you’re alone. But with the alcohol warm in your veins, you don’t mind. You let the beat carry you, movements fluid and loose, like your body already knows the song by heart. The crowd thickens, lights blur, and everything becomes a haze of motion and heat. The tempo rises. You drift closer to the center, caught in the music, untethered. 

Then, during a rare lull between songs, you glance back toward the booth—

And spot Feyre in Rhys’ lap, flushed and breathless. Her hair sticks to her forehead as she lifts a tiny glass with exaggerated flair. Rhysand just raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, as she tries to coax him into a shot. 

He refuses. She pouts. Then she steals his beer instead, chugging it right there in his lap. He fumbles for the glass, shouting something you can’t hear. But she just twists away, triumphant, dodging him until the glass is empty. With a dramatic gasp, she slams it on the table and struts off—slightly wobbly—leaving Rhys with nothing but the small shot of dark liquor.

You laugh—can’t help it. 

But the sight of Azriel freezes your grin halfway between amusement and something more. Because he’s still talking to the female—who, from what you can tell, is more than happy to let him steer the conversation. But even as his words flow smoothly to her, his eyes are locked on you—piercing and intense, like he can’t look away, even if he’s supposed to be. 

And that gaze… it cuts straight through you.

Warmth blooms low in your belly. Not from the alcohol. Not entirely. You hold his gaze, and the rest of the room fades. The music, the lights, the crowd—they’re distant noise now. Because though the space between you is still wide, it feels like a wire pulled taut, vibrating with something that isn’t the music. 

Maybe it’s the buzz. Maybe it’s the bass still pounding in your chest. Maybe it’s the fact that his gaze is still on you. 

The music shifts again, and your body follows without a thought. You let the music guide you, every slow roll of your hips deliberate, every look daring him to match you. You aren’t sure why you’re dancing for him (because it is for him, isn’t it?), or why your eyes haven’t left his once, but the rush is intoxicating. 

His expression doesn’t change. Not at first. But then something flickers in his eyes—brief and unreadable.

For a heartbeat, you wonder if maybe you’ve imagined it all. 

But then he claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, leans in to say something. He nods once at the female—goodbyes, maybe? You can’t be sure. 

And then Azriel steps through the crowd. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t smile. He just starts toward you, weaving through the crowd with that unhurried, measured stride you know by heart. 

He doesn’t say a word. 

He doesn’t have to. 

When he stops in front of you, the music swells again—and this time, it feels like it’s for you. Drunk enough not to overthink it, you don’t hesitate—you just reach for him, pulling him into your orbit. 

And just like that, you fall into step with him. 

Effortless. Unspoken. Like your bodies had been waiting for this moment—like they remembered each other from another lifetime. There’s no need for words, not when the music does all the talking. Not when the bass pulses through your spine and Azriel’s warmth curls in your blood like smoke.

His hands settle low on your hips—too low, maybe—and the contact short-circuits something in you. Through the thin fabric of your dress, his palms burn. You swear his grip tightens as you move, subtle but unmistakable, like he’s testing how far he can go. Like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

You move in tandem, one body split in two. Every step aligned. Every breath shared. The sway of your hips becomes a silent conversation, and even as the crowd surges around you, none of it touches you. All you feel is the slow drag of his hand, the brush of his chest when he leans in too close. All you hear is the rasp of his breath in your ear.

Somewhere in the haze, you wonder where Mor is with your drink. You hope—fervently—she’s seen you like this and decided to give you space. You don’t want to be saved.

Then Azriel catches your hand. Twines his fingers through yours. Wordless, he spins you out, guiding you around him with a kind of reverence that feels like worship. The fabric of your dress strains, hugging every curve as you spin. His palm stays anchored to your waist, steady and possessive. And when you slip behind him, your gaze catches—hungry—on the curve of his ass in those sinfully tight jeans. The stretch of cotton over his back. The muscles shifting under his shirt like a promise.

By the time you return to face him, breathless and hot-faced, he’s already watching you. And he knows. Cauldron, he knows.

His hair sticks to his forehead, dark strands damp from the press of bodies, the heat. His collar’s still loose, open just enough to hint at skin, at the strong line of his throat. A silver chain catches the light where it rests against his collarbone, the cobalt glint of his siphon nestled low—one of the simpler siphon pieces you’ve seen him wear, reserved for nights like this when the full set would only get in the way. 

And then there are his eyes.

Not friendly. Not protective. Nothing safe. They’re molten—dark and slow and unapologetic as they trace the length of you. They leave scorch marks in their wake. And when you meet that gaze, something primal shifts inside you. Something ancient and aching.

He pulls you in, flush against him, his hands spanning your back, scarred fingers grazing bare skin. The contact is searing. Your breath falters.

Still, you manage to play it cool—or try to. “What’s wrong, Az? You’re staring.” It’s meant to be teasing. Light. But it comes out quieter than you intended. Softer. As if even your voice can’t help giving you away.

His breath stutters. Just enough. “Don’t tease me right now.” His voice is low and rough, his eyes now dark enough to drown in. “It’s not the dress.”

And then—then—his thigh slots between yours and he drags you close enough to steal your balance. The dance shifts—slower now, hungrier. There’s something dangerous uncoiling between you.

The pressure of his thigh is subtle, maddening. The friction sets a slow-burning ache deep inside you, and without thinking, you move. Just enough to chase it. Just enough to make yourself feel something. He notices. Of course he does. His fingers press firmer at your back, holding you there, and you wonder—ache to know—if he feels it too. This tension. This current humming under your skin, magnetic and irrevocable.

Your hips move in time with his, a rhythm that no longer has anything to do with the music. You brush against him, again and again, and each pass stokes the fire curling low in your belly. His hand steadies at the small of your back—firm, coaxing, guiding the rhythm of your hips until you’re moving in time with him. Until you’re grinding slow and sure against the solid line of his thigh. He watches every flicker of reaction like it’s a secret he’s been aching to unearth. 

His shadows brush your skin—light as breath, bold as fingertips. They slip under the hem of your dress, past the dip of your neckline, exploring, learning, teasing. It’s not enough to satisfy, but it’s enough to tempt. To make you dizzy. 

Your breath stutters, and for a moment, his gaze dips to your mouth. 

You barely manage a smile. “Still not about the dress?” you murmur, your voice low, throat dry. 

Azriel’s eyes flicker—then settle on you like a storm about to break. “Not even a little.”

And when his nose grazes yours, it isn’t a kiss. But it could be. It’s the moment right before—the breath, the space, the choice. A thread pulled taut, ready to snap.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you. But the song changes, the spell snaps, and suddenly the room exists again. Someone bumps into Azriel from behind, and his hand drops to your ass to steady you. A reflex. But it brands.

You both laugh, too breathless, too wired, too aware of what just almost happened. And his hand is still on your ass. 

You need a second—a buffer, a breath of air before you do something you can’t undo.

“I need a drink,” you murmur, voice hoarse.

His hands linger but eventually fall away. Slow. Reluctant.

You glance up at him, give him a look you hope says this isn’t over, and slip through the crowd toward the bar.

The bartender slides a drink your way before you can even remember ordering one. You catch it on instinct, fingers curling around the chilled glass just as the condensation begins to bead. It slicks your grip slightly, grounding you in the present—the weight of the glass, the sting of alcohol, the echo of Azriel’s touch still humming beneath your skin.

You barely have time to take a sip before an arm braces beside yours on the counter—long, inked, and annoyingly familiar. Then the rest of Rhysand follows—tall, rakish, and far too smug for someone clearly on the brink of losing his balance.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, voice syrupy and just loose enough at the edges to toe the line between charming and concerning. “If it isn’t our little heartbreaker.”

You blink at him over the rim of your glass, your mouth still parted mid-sip. “How drunk are you?”

“Moderate,” he says, with the blind confidence of a man absolutely not moderate. Then, solemnly: “I think I just tried to winnow to the moon. Cass said no.”

A laugh bursts out of you, sharp and surprised, catching you off guard. “You were supposed to be the responsible one tonight.”

Rhys makes a sweeping gesture with one hand that nearly sends a nearby cocktail crashing to the floor. “Fuck responsible. Do you know how hard it is to stay sober when everyone around you is glowing and half-delirious? Mor and Feyre have been spinning like drunk ballerinas for the last twenty minutes. Cassian challenged a table of strangers to an arm-wrestle for ‘honor and glory.’ And Azriel—”

He cuts off, lips twitching. That grin, slow and sly, curls like smoke.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he sing-songs, turning away to steal a sip from someone else’s drink before grimacing and abandoning it.

Gods, you’ve never seen him like this. Loose. Unfiltered. Unbothered by image or control. You make a mental note to corner Cassian and Azriel as soon as possible, if only to demand every humiliating story they’ve ever collected on him.

“You were going to say something,” you groan, watching him closely.

Rhys gives you a beatific smile that practically screams I’m lying. “Me? Never.”

You take another slow sip of your drink, trying—failing—to will the heat from your cheeks. But Rhys, of course, is infuriatingly perceptive. Even through a haze of liquor, he clocks you immediately.

“Oh no,” he breathes, voice gone delighted and a little too loud. “Oh no, it’s happening.”

You arch a brow. “What is?”

“You’re falling in love with my shadowsinger.”

The words land like a match dropped in dry grass.

You choke, spluttering into your drink. “I’m not—”

“Sure, sure,” he says, cutting you off with a patronizing pat to your arm. “And neither is he. You two are just dry-humping in the dark, panting like—like you’re seconds away from devouring each other. All very normal friend behavior, I’m sure.”

You groan and let your head fall forward, forehead thunking against the bar top. The cool wood offers no relief from the mortification burning behind your eyes.

“Go away.”

Rhys props his chin on his palm, utterly content. “Can’t. Too drunk to move.”

You turn your head just enough to peer at him, face still pressed to the bar. “Do I need to find Feyre?”

His expression shifts to something like panic. “Please… do not.”

“Right.” You sigh, dragging a hand down your face and letting it rest there. “You’re impossible.”

Rhys smiles lazily, lashes low and smug. “And you’re glowing. All flushed and starry-eyed. It’s disgusting.”

You flip him off without looking.

That’s when the night starts to blur. 

At some point, you find yourself curled under Cassian’s arm, both of you howling over a story he refuses to finish because he keeps laughing too hard. He smells like sweat and cologne and a bad idea—not that you haven’t entertained the thought once or twice. When you reach for your drink, he snatches it just out of reach with a devilish grin. 

“You’ve had enough,” he slurs—then immediately downs his own.

You wait until he’s distracted, then snatch your drink back and down it in one go. 

Across the room, Mor is spinning Azriel in a slow, ridiculous waltz to music that’s far too fast. Her head is thrown back in laughter, one heel discarded, and Azriel’s grinning wide and unrestrained as she twirls herself dramatically beneath his arm. One of his shadows retrieves her fallen shoe and dutifully returns it. He pretends not to notice. 

Rhys, for some reason, decides the whole place needs another round—again. He’s at the bar holding up fingers in rapid succession—four, five, seven—gesturing to absolutely no one. When the bartender ignores him, he levitates a bottle of amber liquor off the shelf with a flourish and begins personally pouring shots into the mouths of nearby patrons like some deranged, drunken Father Solstice.

Cassian finds Azriel in the crowd and immediately throws an arm around his neck, dragging him close with a sloppy grin. “My brother,” he declares, far too loud, smacking a kiss to Azriel’s temple before pulling him into a one-armed hug that rattles both of them. “Do you know—do you know—how much I love you?”

Azriel just blinks. “Unfortunately.”

“Shut up,” Cassian slurs, already halfway into his next declaration. “You’re the best of us. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Except me. Sometimes. But even then—”

“I’m going to kill you,” Azriel says—quiet and deadly. But he doesn’t move to escape. If anything, he leans into it. 

Later, you, Feyre, and Mor vanish into the bathroom, which starts as a mission of necessity and ends in chaos. The line’s too long. The floor’s sticky. You all start yelling about how no one cleans the stalls in this place. And somehow, ten minutes later, Mor’s knees are on the tile while you and Feyre crouch beside her, holding her hair back and cackling as she curses Rhysand’s name for “making” her take that last glowing green shot.

“You’ll live,” Feyre says, patting her back with the resigned affection of someone who’s done this before. 

“Probably,” you add.

Eventually, the three of you stagger back to the booth—giggling, disheveled, makeup slightly smeared but still beautiful. Because drunk girls in packs always are. 

You collapse into the cushions, and for a moment, everything just is—a tangle of warm limbs, laughter, glitter. Cassian’s still trying to tell a story no one can follow. Azriel is methodically peeling an orange he must’ve stolen from the bar. Mor keeps interrupting to dramatically rehash her brush with death on the bathroom floor.

Somewhere between the fourth retelling and a new round of drinks, Feyre bumps into your side, giggling as she climbs— climbs—into Rhysand’s lap. 

“Oh my gods,” she breathes, burying her face into his neck. “You smell like night and sin and trouble.”

Rhys hums, stroking a hand up her thigh. “And you, darling, are my favorite sort of trouble.”

You try to ignore it. You really do. And, for a few minutes, you’re fine. But then Feyre whispers, “I swear to the Cauldron, if you keep touching me like that I will drag you into the shadows and make you beg to—”

“No,” you say sharply, holding up a hand. “Absolutely not. You cannot do this in the communal booth.”

Rhysand and Feyre both blink at you. Slowly. Like they’re just now realizing the rest of you exist.

“Oh,” Feyre says, blinking again. “I said that… out loud?”

Cassian groans and drops his head to the table. “Yes. You did.”

“We all heard it,” Mor says, looking personally offended. 

Rhys looks vaguely affronted. “We were talking through the bond—”

“You weren’t,” you, Cassian, and Mor all say at once. 

Azriel only sighs and catches your eye, mouthing, Every damn time.

And then—

Too much light. Too much warmth. Music in your bones. Glitter on your cheeks. Someone grabs your hand and drags you back to the dance floor. You don’t know who. Doesn’t matter. You let the rhythm carry you, laughter bubbling up like it’s been trapped for months. 

Azriel finds you in the chaos. Quiet. Solid. He takes your hand, spins you once—lazy, sweet—then pulls you close with that look. Like the world is loud but you are not. 

And then—

The night slips.

You and Mor, arms around each other, cheeks dusted with shimmer.

Cassian balances a shotglass between the clawed tips of his wings—a feat that’s nothing short of impressive—while Azriel leans in to drink from it for the fourth time and misses. Again. 

Rhys stumbling through a dance with Feyre, refusing to let go of her hand even as he trips.

Azriel laughing, loud and bright, shirt drenched in spilled liquor and clinging to him like a second skin. 

It’s beautiful, in the messy, ephemeral way nights like this always are. 

And when it ends—when the cold air bites and your heels dangle from your fingers—you’re walking beside him.

Azriel. Silent and steady.

Side by side. Arms brushing.

Still friends. 

Still not in love. 

Definitely not. 

Probably. 

… Maybe.

The others are a few paces ahead, their laughter echoing down the cobbled street, mingling with the night’s quiet. You’d all chosen to walk back to the townhouse instead of winnowing—mostly to spare Mor another tragic bathroom incident.

You glance at Azriel, his profile softened by the pale glow of distant streetlights, the sharp edges of him mellowed by the dim light. He’s quieter now, more anchored, like the buzz is finally starting to bleed out of him too.

For a fleeting moment, your eyes meet, and something shifts, an unspoken weight hanging in the air between you. It’s not just the silence—it’s everything that comes with it. He looks away first, but the tension doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, thick and undeniable.

“So,” you say, your voice light, but there’s a brittleness beneath it, a crack in the calm. “You get this fucked up before?”

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound familiar and warm, but with something in it that feels like the night itself. “Should’ve seen us three while we were training. You wouldn’t have recognized us.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Azriel smirks, eyes gleaming with something you can’t quite place, a mystery veiled beneath his calm. “I’ll answer that when I’m sober enough to remember half of it.”

A teasing grin tugs at your lips, unspoken but understood.

His gaze shifts toward you then, and the playful edge in his expression softens, ever so briefly. It’s a shift so subtle, it feels as though the air around you changes. His steps slow, just enough to bring him closer—his presence, steady and grounding, a quiet comfort against the coolness of the night.

And then, before you can fully comprehend it, his hand is at your back again—a subtle, possessive touch, just above your waist. It’s not new, this gesture. He’s done it before, but tonight, it feels different.

“You okay?” His voice is soft, low—barely above the city’s hum, but it cuts through everything else.

You swallow, suddenly aware of the weight behind the question, the way it settles in your chest. You nod, forcing a smile, though it feels less like a smile and more like a fragile shield. You meet his gaze through your lashes.

“I’m drunk,” you admit, a small giggle escaping, but the sound feels a little too light for the heaviness in the air.

Azriel huffs a soft laugh, warm breath brushing against your skin. “Yeah, I figured.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, in a way—a strange sort of peace between the two of you. The laughter and raucous chatter of your group fades further ahead, their voices lost in the night, leaving only the faint echo of their noise behind. Here, between you and Azriel, there’s nothing but quiet. His hand still rests at your back, the lightest touch, but you can feel it—every brush of his fingers against the fabric of your dress, like an unspoken promise.

You glance over at him, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Answer my question though. Did you have fun tonight? I know you don’t like coming out much.”

Azriel doesn’t look at you. His gaze remains fixed on the path ahead, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Fun?” he mutters, his voice light but carrying an edge. “If I’d known the night would end with me trying to drink out of Cassian’s wings, I might’ve stayed in.”

You laugh softly, the sound laced with warmth. “Oh, but you looked like you were having a blast.”

“I was,” he admits, voice lower now, quieter.

His words hang in the air, settling between you, filling the space with something deeper, something more. You glance at him again, and this time, his gaze finds yours. Dark, steady, unwavering.

And in that moment, everything feels charged, like the next move is inevitable.

You stop walking.

Azriel doesn’t pull his hand from your waist. Instead he swings around, turning to face you with an abruptness that feels almost instinctive, like the idea of letting go wasn’t even an option. Like keeping his hand on you mattered more than keeping his feet on the ground. Now, he stands before you, close enough that the heat of his body bleeds into yours, the cool night air thick with the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. 

For a moment, there’s nothing—just the two of you, suspended in the quiet, the distance between you and your family growing with each passing second.

It’s like a pulse, something deep within both of you that knows this is the moment, one that’s been silently building, lingering, biding its time.

You feel it in the way his eyes lock onto yours, how his body shifts ever so slightly—so close now you could reach up, could touch him, but you don’t move. 

Then, as if it was always meant to happen, his hand slides from your back, cupping the side of your face gently. His thumb brushes across your cheek, soft and tender, a quiet, unspoken question hanging between you.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in first. Your lips find his—soft, uncertain at first, like you’re both holding your breath. But the second they meet, it’s like something clicks into place. Like every unsaid thing between you is finally, finally speaking.

But then it deepens, the kiss turning more urgent, the gentle press of lips becoming something more, something full of warmth and heat. The taste of alcohol lingers, but underneath that is the familiar, the comforting—years of friendship tangled into something new, something wild. The world shifts, or maybe it’s just the two of you, with everything else fading away.

Azriel’s hands slip into your hair, finding the nape of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, pulling you closer. And the kiss is no longer just soft; it’s a quiet intensity, like something between you both has been building for far longer than either of you realized.

When you part, it’s only just enough to breathe, just enough to meet his gaze. Your lips feel swollen, your heart racing in your chest. But all you can think about is how desperately you want more. Not just his mouth, but all of him—his body, his touch. The press of him, hot and solid against you. The drag of his hand down your spine, the way his fingers splayed across your waist like he never wanted to let go. You want him closer. You want him everywhere. His hand between your legs. You want—

You blink, the haze slowly clearing.

As you lean past him, you finally take in the world around you again. The rest of the group is a fair distance ahead now, moving in a disjointed knot—Cassian with his arm slung lazily around Mor, Feyre pulling Rhys by the wrist as he slurs something half-laughing.

“Guys,” you call, breathless, voice a little hoarse, “we’re going to the… to the House of—” But you realize, mid-sentence, that no one is listening.

“Forget it,” Azriel mutters, and without warning, he grabs your hand.

He tugs you right, pulling you away from the main walkway and down a narrow side street, dimly lit by the soft glow of faelights overhead. You follow without hesitation, heart racing, your legs moving before your mind can fully catch up. The sounds of the city—music drifting from an open window, the distant clang of something dropped—feel muffled now, like they belong to someone else.

All you know is the heat of his hand in yours, the excitement blooming in your chest as a grin spreads across your face. And then, you’re running.

Laughing, breathless, borderline euphoric as your feet hit the cobblestone in time with his. His fingers are laced with yours, and he doesn’t let go—not once—not even when you nearly trip on a loose stone and bark out a curse through your grin. He just squeezes your hand tighter and keeps going. 

The wind rushes past, sweeping your hair into your face, and still you run, streetlights flickering overhead like stars caught in motion. You glance at him once, just once, and gods, it knocks the breath clean out of you.

He looks good. Stupidly good. His wings are tucked in tight behind him, shadows trailing in his wake like they can't quite keep up. There’s a flush high on his cheeks from the alcohol or the running—or maybe the kiss—and his smile. His smile is rare and wild and real, splitting his face in a way that makes something in your chest twist. His eyes find yours, dark and bright all at once, and the way he looks at you feels like falling without ever hitting the ground.

You’ve known him for years. Fought beside him, argued with him, trusted him more than you’ve trusted most. You’ve always thought he was beautiful in that silent, devastating kind of way. The kind of beautiful that hurts if you look too long. But this is new. Or maybe not new at all—maybe it’s just undeniable now. 

He slows only once the path narrows again, steps easing to a walk, his hand still firm in yours. You're panting, your heart racing in your chest like it’s trying to tell you something urgent, something important.

Azriel glances at you, still grinning. “Want a shortcut?”

You eye him, arching a brow. “A shortcut, or are you about to throw me over your shoulder?”

He shrugs, unbothered. “I could throw you over my shoulder.”

You snort. “You’re drunk.”

His smile deepens. “Tipsy.”

You tilt your head. “Drunk, and you think you’re in any shape to fly us home?”

He smirks, swaying slightly. “I could.”

You blink at him. “Could you even land us properly?”

He pauses—just for a beat—then looks at you with a glint in his eye that’s half mischief, half something far more dangerous. “I’m so fucking glad you didn’t know me growing up.”

Before you can ask what the hell that means, he sweeps forward. One arm wraps around your waist, the other slides behind your knees, and suddenly you’re airborne—held tight against his chest like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders without a second thought.

“Azriel—”

But he’s already launching into the air, wings snapping wide, the wind catching beneath them as the city drops away below.

You press your face into the side of his neck, your laughter half-dazed, half-horrified. “You’re actually insane.”

He hums, voice a little smug. “Maybe. But you’re the one who kissed me.”

And gods help you, you’re already wondering when you can do it again.

Maybe he feels it—senses it—because before you can even finish the thought, he adjusts his grip just enough to shift you higher against him. Your arms loop instinctively around his neck, noses brushing, breath mingling. The wind whips past, cold and biting, but you don’t feel it.

You only feel him.

Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s nothing like that first kiss—nothing tentative or hesitant about it. It’s needy, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth and breathless hunger. 

You moan into him—can’t help it. The sound is swallowed by the sky, lost to the night. But he hears it. You know he does. His grip tightens like he needs you closer, like there’s not a single inch of air he’s willing to spare between you. His shadows are stirring again, curling around you like they want in on the taste.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as your teeth graze his bottom lip, and he growls—deep and low and barely restrained.

“Azriel—” you gasp against his mouth. He huffs a laugh, sharp and wicked.

“Careful,” he murmurs, lips trailing hot over your jaw. “I might miss the landing on purpose.” 

You barely manage a breath. “We need to land,” you murmur, though it sounds more like a curse than a request. “Now.”

He lets out a sound that’s half-groan, half-laugh, and the next moment, he angles downward.

The house appears below in a blur, the lights from the windows streaking past as he descends fast and sharp. The landing is rougher than usual—feet hitting the balcony hard, wings flaring wide to catch the worst of it—but neither of you care. Not when his mouth crashes back onto yours the second you touch solid ground.

He walks you backward through the open doors, his hands already skimming beneath your dress—rough and hungry, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you first. The fabric slips higher with every step, until it's bunched around your waist and you’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt like you might tear it clean off.

Instead, you reach behind him, fumbling at the slats that hold it together around his wings. The second you get the first one undone, he groans into your mouth, kissing you harder. His hands slip down your back, eager and sure, grasping for the zipper of your dress. 

You undo the next, and the next—moving fast, clumsy with urgency. By the time the last one comes loose, he’s all but panting against your jaw.

“Off,” you whisper, and he shrugs out of the shirt with a sound that’s damn near a growl.

He lifts you again like you weigh nothing, kissing you through the hall like he’s starving—stumbling a little, both of you half-drunk on each other and the leftover buzz of the night. His shirt falls somewhere by the wall, your heels were long since discarded on the veranda, and your dress slips off your shoulders as you reach the stairs, falling in a silky heap at your feet. You barely register the path, only the heat of his mouth on your throat, the scrape of his teeth at your collarbone, the low, broken noises he keeps making like he needs this—needs you.

The bedroom door slams shut behind you, and then you’re falling back onto the bed, and he’s following you down.

The mattress gives beneath your weight, cool sheets against your back—his body a furnace as it presses to yours, bracing on his forearms. 

His lips find yours again, slower now, but no less desperate. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the way you taste, the way you sigh into every kiss like it’s the only one you’ll ever need.

His hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking gently over your cheekbone as he leans in deeper, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that feels far too practiced for two people who’ve never done this before. But you have, haven’t you? In glances. In moments stolen in shadows. In the soft touches that used to mean nothing—until they meant everything.

You arch into him when his hand skims down your side, across your ribs, ghosting the curve of your waist like he’s still not sure you’re real. Like he can’t believe this is happening.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, breath catching. “You’re so—”

He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to.

You feel it in the way he lowers his head and wraps his lips around your nipple, warm and wet and slow. Your back arches off the bed, a gasp escaping you as he laps his tongue over the sensitive bud, sucking just hard enough to make your thighs clench around his hips.

You dig your fingers into his hair, letting your head fall back, eyes fluttering shut as his hands roam—one cupping your other breast, the other smoothing down the length of your thigh. He shifts, nudging your legs apart with his knee, sliding between them like he belongs there.

And gods, he does.

You open your eyes just enough to look at him—his dark hair falling into his face, his mouth wet and red from kissing you. He’s never looked more beautiful. Or more wrecked.

“Az,” you whisper, breathless, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone.

He lifts his head. Meets your gaze.

The look in his eyes nearly undoes you—like he’s never seen you before, not like this. Like something old has cracked open between you and there’s no going back.

“I’ve wanted this,” he says, voice low and raw. “Longer than I ever let myself admit.”

You don’t reply. Because his hands shake as they trail down your body, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. You barely have time to catch your breath before his fingers tug at the fabric, dragging it down your hips and past your thighs.

“Cauldron, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, the words thick with desire, as he works your underwear off your legs. His eyes trace the path of his hands like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “It took everything in me not to stare when you came down those stairs,” he says, voice rough. “You looked like you’d strung up the fucking stars just to watch them burn.”

Your heart gives a traitorous flutter. He was looking. He did care. And knowing that makes something inside you ache. 

You spread your legs for him, a silent invitation. His gaze flicks back up to yours, hungry and wide, a dark promise in his eyes. But it’s not just hunger in those eyes—there’s something deeper, more tender, that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

He shifts, dropping to his stomach, his wings spread out behind him like a dark, protective shield. You gasp as his lips brush the inside of your thigh, the heat of his breath against your skin making you shiver. He’s barely touched you, but your body is already aching, already craving more.

Azriel hums as he presses his mouth against the soft skin of your inner thigh, the sound a low vibration that runs straight through you. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs as he settles between them.

He can’t wait any longer.

His lips finally brush your folds, and you can’t help the needy whimper that escapes you. His mouth is hot—so hot, and as soon as his tongue flicks against you, your back arches off the bed, hands flying to his hair. He groans, low and satisfied, and the sound makes your chest tighten with need.

Azriel loves this—loves the taste of you, the way you tremble under his touch. It’s like he’s starving, and your pussy is the only thing that will ever fill him. He’s quick to bury his face deeper, his tongue lapping at your clit with the precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times, each movement a studied perfection. You feel him groan into you, his entire body trembling, like he can’t get enough.

And then, he starts grinding.

You feel the slow, desperate rut of his hips against the mattress—like he needs the friction, like it hurts not to be inside you. His cock throbs against the fabric of his underwear, and still, he doesn’t stop. He moans into your cunt, a low, broken whine of a sound, his mouth locked to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality. 

You reach for his hair, tugging him closer, hips moving of their own accord as you grind up into his face. He moans louder this time, his hands pressing down on your hips to hold you still just long enough for him to really feel you.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling away just long enough to breathe, “you’re so fucking sweet. Can’t get enough.”

“Then don’t stop,” you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, Az—just—”

You don’t need to finish. He’s already back, his mouth pressing against you again like a man starved, devouring you with everything he’s got. Every flick of his tongue against your clit, every deep stroke, sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, building you up higher and higher until you can’t think of anything else but him—his tongue, his mouth, his need.

He’s lost in you, his hips still grinding desperately into the mattress as he eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You grip his hair tighter, pulling him even closer, rocking your hips against his face, each thrust of his tongue like a promise.

And when you finally let go—when you shatter, your body arching against his mouth and your vision going white—he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, keeps licking and sucking until you’re trembling, until you’ve been pushed past every point of endurance.

He pulls away slowly, his face glistening with you, and his dark eyes are glowing—feral, hungry. His lips curl into a satisfied grin, like he just won the most important battle of his life.

“Fucking perfect,” he mutters, voice thick, and then he crawls back up your body, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

You can feel his chest press against yours, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours. He pulls away, and for a moment, you just look at each other—eyes locked, the world outside forgotten.

He brushes his nose against yours, a soft, lingering touch, and then lowers his forehead to yours. “You okay?” His voice is rough, still full of desire, but there’s a softness to it now, a care that makes your chest tighten.

You nod, breathless, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. “More than okay.”

His lips curl into a smile, and he presses a soft kiss to your lips, the kind of kiss that feels like a promise. You reach for him, your hands shaking just a little as you trail your fingers over the muscles of his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat under your fingertips. His eyes close as your hands move lower, tracing the defined lines of his stomach. You want to memorize him—want to feel him, every part of him.

As your fingers brush against the waistband of his underwear, your breath catches in your throat. The tension in the air thickens, and for a moment, you hesitate, fingers trembling just above the fabric. His body is taut beneath your touch, but his eyes remain locked on yours—expectant, but still tender.

You pull them down slowly, the fabric sliding off his hips, revealing him fully for the first time. Your gaze flicks downward.

And gods, he's big.

You blink, your heart racing as you take in the sight. The soft glow of the room highlights the sharp, defined lines of his body, but it's him, his cock, that makes your breath hitch. Thick and hard, standing at attention, the tip flushed with need, and for a moment, all you can do is stare, wide-eyed and speechless.

Your stomach does this strange flip, a mix of awe and anticipation. You’ve seen his body before—shirtless, after sparring, sweaty from training—but this... this is something else.

It’s nothing like you imagined. It’s bigger than you thought, intimidating in a way that makes your cheeks flush.

The heat between your legs flares, but it's not just lust—it’s the overwhelming realization of how much he desires you. The connection. The intimacy. This is your best friend, exposed in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s more than you expected. Bigger, thicker than you thought—intimidating and... a little overwhelming.

A warmth starts to bloom in your chest, spreading down to the pit of your stomach. It’s not just lust, though there’s plenty of that. It’s a sort of quiet shock that makes your whole body feel electrified, like you’re standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure you’d ever have the courage to leap into.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally look up at him. He looks nervous—his gaze flicking down, then back up again, like he’s unsure how you’ll react. “I can handle it, Az.”

He doesn’t answer at first, just watches you with those dark, stormy eyes, searching for something in yours. His breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

“Are you sure?” His voice is thick, strained. The weight of his hesitation settles between you. You nod, pressing your hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

“I’m sure,” you breathe out. “I want this. I want you. Please.”

A shudder runs through him at your words, but he doesn’t move to rush it. Instead, he leans down, placing a soft kiss to your lips, his hand gently cradling your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue coaxing and tender. He pulls back, his eyes searching yours again.

“I’ll never rush you, okay? Anything—you let me know,” he says, his voice low and filled with such sincerity that it makes your chest tighten. He slowly begins to ease himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against you.

It’s everything you imagined and more—every inch of him solid and warm, the weight of him just right as he finally pushes into you. The stretch is slow, controlled, and you wince slightly at the initial burn, but it fades quickly as he inches in deeper, his hands gentle on your hips. He pauses once he's fully seated inside, both of you panting, your body adjusting to the sensation.

Azriel’s breath is ragged as he pulls back slightly, then presses in again—slow, deliberate, giving you time to adjust. “Fuck, you feel so good, (y/n),” he groans, his voice thick with desire.

You feel him everywhere, his every movement slow and deliberate, the depth of his tenderness filling you in ways you never expected. But as the heat builds in your belly, a need rises in you too—a need for him to give in, to let go, to stop holding back.

“I need more, Az,” you whisper. “Please.”

His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of conflict and desire flickering across his features. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, his voice rough, but you can see the way his hands grip the bed, his muscles straining as he tries to hold back.

You reach up, hands sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him again, more urgently this time. “I said I’m sure,” you whisper against his lips, fingers brushing the edge of his wing.

And that’s all it takes. He straightens suddenly, hands sliding down to grip your waist as he begins to move, his thrusts steady and sure. He’s still gentle, his rhythm slow but building in intensity with every movement. His eyes never leave yours, and in them, you see the same fierce desire mirrored back at you, mixed with something deeper—something softer.

Each stroke is powerful as he drives into you with growing urgency. You moan, fingers digging into his biceps, your body arching to meet every snap of his hips. 

“Azriel,” you gasp, your nails scraping down his back as the pleasure begins to build inside you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a breathless growl as he thrusts harder, the force of him filling you completely. “Always got you.”

The heat builds fast, that deep, aching tension curling tighter with every thrust, stoking the fire within you. His hands find your hips, fingers curling hard into the flesh—gripping you like he’s claiming you, like he can’t bear to let go—as he pulls you onto him again and again. He angles his movements just right, drinking in every sound you make and relishing each one more than the last. 

His movements are still slow, deliberate, but there's a hunger there now—something primal in the way he grips you, the way he pulls you closer, urging you to take more of him.

“Please,” you whisper, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, desperate for more, for him to push you over the edge.

Azriel responds with a low, hungry groan, his thrusts becoming a little quicker, a little harder. He can feel the way your body trembles beneath him, the way you react to him. He loves it, loves knowing that he’s the one who’s breaking through all the walls, all the restraint you both held before.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he growls, his voice rough with need, words spilling out in a rush as he braces himself over you. His forearms cage you in, hands on either side of your face, cradling your jaw, holding you there like you’re the only thing in the world worth seeing. He thrusts deeper, pushing you further into the mattress, and the room seems to spin. Your world narrows to just the two of you, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

Your breath hitches as you feel yourself tightening around him, your body winding up with a force that threatens to snap. You can’t stop the moan that escapes you, the pleasure building inside you, getting closer, almost overwhelming.

“Az, I’m—” you choke out, unable to finish the sentence as the pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.

“Let go, baby,” he says, low and raspy, urging you on. “Let me feel you.”

You never thought you’d hear him like this, hoarse and hungry and just a little wrecked, and fuck, it’s the hottest thing you’ve heard in your life.

And then, it happens—the release hits you like a wave, washing over you, taking over every part of you. You cry out his name, your body trembling as your nails scrape down his back once more.

Azriel groans your name, the sound raw and desperate, and as your body contracts around him, his thrusts falter for a moment before he loses himself too, the intensity of the moment taking him to the edge.

He buries himself deep with a guttural moan—low and wrecked, like the sound’s been punched out of him—his breath hitching, hips stuttering as he spills into you, body trembling with the force of it. “Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, fuck—”

You’re both still breathing hard when he suddenly stills, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are wide. 

“Shit,” he pants. “I didn’t even ask—are you on the tonic? I’m so sorry, I just—fuck I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean to—”

You laugh, breathless. “Az, I am. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He exhales shakily. “Okay. Good. Fuck, good… Just—yeah. Okay.”

For a moment, all there is is the sound of your breathing, the feel of him against you, and the pulse of your hearts racing together. You both just stare at each other for a moment, trying to catch your breath, the weight of everything hanging between you in the most beautiful, unspoken way.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, still hovering over you, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

You nod, your fingers gently tracing his jawline. “More than okay,” you whisper, your voice still breathless, a contented smile tugging at your lips.

Azriel presses a kiss to your forehead and slips out, easing onto the bed and tugging you with him until your head rests on his chest, your body draped over his. One arm wraps around your waist, and his wings wrap around you both like a blanket. 

You lie there in silence, skin sticky with sweat, limbs tangled, breath slowly evening out. You’d deal with everything in the morning—whatever this was now, whatever it meant. You’d figure out what to say to Mor, to Cassian, to Feyre and Rhysand. But for now, you just press your face into Azriel’s chest and let yourself rest, wrapped in him, wrapped in this.

[aesthetic2020]

Best Hair Transplant Clinic in Bangalore

Are you struggling with hair loss and looking for a reliable solution? Visit Aesthetic International, the best hair transplant clinic in Bangalore, where our expert team is dedicated to providing effective hair restoration treatments to help you regain a full and natural-looking head of hair.

Why Choose Aesthetic International for Hair Transplants?

Experienced Specialists: Our team of skilled surgeons and technicians specialize in hair transplant procedures, ensuring precision and high-quality results.

Advanced Techniques: We utilize the latest hair transplant technologies, such as Follicular Unit Extraction (FUE), to provide minimally invasive and highly effective treatments.

Personalized Care: Every patient receives a customized treatment plan tailored to their unique needs and hair restoration goals.

Natural Results: Our focus is on achieving natural-looking results that enhance your appearance and boost your confidence.

Hair Transplant In Bangalore

For many Hair represents attractiveness and desirability, both personally and professionally. Studies show that 40% of men show signs of pattern baldness or thinning hair by age 35 and 65% by age 60. While roughly 50% of women will experience hair loss in their lifetime.

There are different causes of hair loss mainly are genetic or hereditary; nutritional deficiency; Lifestyle related; stress (physical or mental); smoking; Lifestyle; Dietary habits and stress are very important causative factors in millennials.

Apart from these there are some skin conditions which are important to be ruled out in cases of hair loss and also some diseases not related to skin can also cause hair loss. Which requires medical treatment than hair transplant.

Your surgeon will guide you properly if you are a candidate for hair transplant or not as early cases of hair loss can be reversed by medical therapy and on other hand few cases of baldness will not get benefit out of hair transplant. There are few conditions to rule out and type alopecia to be diagnosed for which hair transplant surgeon should assess you clinically.

AM I AN APPROPRIATE CANDIDATE FOR HAIR TRANSPLANT?

Hair Transplant procedure is done if:

• The patient’s hair has thinned considerably over time • You have experienced massive hair fall and balding • You have a receding hairline • You have lost some hair from a burn or scalp injury/scar

BENEFITS

• It can help to restore hair growth in areas where there is little or no hair. • It can help to give the appearance of a fuller head of hair. • It can help to improve self-esteem and confidence. • It can help to give the illusion of a younger appearance. • It is a relatively safe and effective surgical procedure.

ABOUT THE PROCEDURE

Hair transplant is a procedure in which persons own hair are been transposed from one side to the area of baldness so that they can cover the bald area and grow naturally where they are been transposed.

There are two methods for this FUE Follicular unit extraction in which each graft is punched out individually and transplanted to new area

FUT Follicular Unit Transplantation in which strip of skin from back side of the head is cut and each follicle is separated and transplanted in new area.

After transplantation follicles develop their own blood supply from the blood vessels of new area in 5-7 days and once they have their own blood supply they can grow naturally.

Donor area: from where hair grafts are taken are Scalp; Beard and Body hair (chest mainly) they are always taken in such a way that area from where they are taken is also not obviously noticeable.

Following hair transplant it is advisable to undergo medical treatment and regenerative treatment for maintenance of hairs (existing and transplanted).

FUE v/s FUT

FUE: Follicular Unit Extraction: FUE is a minimally invasive hair transplant procedure that involves extracting individual hair follicles from the donor area of the scalp and grafting them into the recipient area. The procedure needs two operations: first, the surgeon harvests the hair follicles from the donor area; second, the surgeon transplants the follicles into the recipient area.

FUE doesn’t leave obvious linear scar on back of the head.

Follicular Unit Transplantation: FUT is a hair transplantation procedure in which a strip of hair-bearing scalp is removed and the individual hairs are then transplanted to the balding area. The first step in FUT is to remove a strip of hair-bearing skin from the back of the head. This strip is typically about 1-2 inches wide and 6-8 inches long. The skin is then dissected into individual follicular units, which are the natural groupings of 1-4 hairs.

The follicular units are then transplanted to the balding area of the head, where they will grow into healthy, permanent hair.

This method leaves a linear scar

RECOVERY AFTER HAIR TRANSPLANT

• Out-patient procedure • You may have some swelling, bruising & discomfort in the first 24-48 hours. This is only temporary and diminishes as the recovery proceeds. • You can start your daily routine work from next day after the surgery and can go for a walk etc. • Avoid sudden movements, lifting weights, etc., for approximately two week. • Do not scratch or touch the transplanted area for at least two weeks • Sleep with your head at an elevation for at least one week post surgery • Avoid Wearing T Shirts • Minimize consuming sugar and salt and drink plenty of fluids • You need to wash your scalp using a gentle shampoo. • It may take three to four days to completely recover from the procedure. • In the month following the procedure, all the transplanted hair falls off. • The hair begins to re-grow after a period of one or two months, at an average rate of 1cm a month. • You would, therefore, be able to truly appreciate the results of the procedure after about 8-10 months. • This hair would be permanent and you can shampoo, cut, style, dye or even color it!

RISKS AND COMPLICATIONS

• Some of the common side effects of a hair transplant procedure include bleeding, infection, swelling, bruising, itching, pain, numbness, and scar. • It is important to discuss these risks with your surgeon before having the procedure so that you can make an informed decision about whether or not it is right for you.

HOW TO CHOOSE A CLINIC FOR HAIR TRANSPLANT?

In todays world of digitalisation and marketing it is very attracting to get a procedure from someone who is not qualified or underqualified to do that procedure.

Only way to avoid this is to see for the doctors qualification – (board certified plastic surgeon) and years of experience in Hair transplant, results and visit surgeon personally to understand if your Hair transplant surgeon understands your need.

WHAT CAN I EXPECT DURING A HAIR TRANSPLANT SURGERY CONSULTATION?

• During your initial consultation, you will meet with the plastic surgeon and staff. • Your previous surgeries, your medical history, medications you are presently taking, and your overall physical and emotional health will be reviewed. • Your hair ,baldness pattern & grade of balding will be evaluated • Photographs may be taken for your medical record. • Your surgeon will determine what you benefit from most and whether or not additional procedures will be necessary for you to achieve your desired results. • Recovery time, risks and limitations associated with surgery will be also be discussed. • The doctor’s patient coordinator will review surgical costs and scheduling with you.

WHAT ARE THE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO BEFORE HAIR TRANSPLANT SURGERY?

The most important thing about planning your Hair Transplant surgery is to choose the correct qualified Aesthetic plastic surgeon. More specifically, ensure that the chosen surgeon is routinely performing breast lift surgeries.

MEDICATIONS

You must STOP the following medications approximately 2 weeks before surgery – blood thinners such as ecosprin, clopidogrel, warfarin etc, estrogen containing hormones, Vitamin E, ginseng, green tea, gingko balboa, garlic pearls, ayurvedic supplements.

SMOKING

It is imperative that you completely stop smoking for a minimum of 1 week prior to your planned date of surgery as it can significantly increase your risk for anaesthesia as well as delay wound healing and increase your risk for post-surgery complications.

FITNESS

You will be advised a set of routine pre-operative investigations to ensure that you are fit for anaesthesia and surgery.

WHY AESTHETIC INTERNATIONAL®?

Once you have decided to pursue a Hair Transplant surgery , Aesthetic international® stands ready to partner with you during this life decision.

We are dedicated to our patients and open communication is never compromised. The better informed our patients are, the better they are at making their decisions.

We believe in providing the highest patient care and through your assigned patient advisor, you can be sure every consideration is made to ensure your expectations are the same as the final results.

Aesthetic international® has the latest technological advances to ensure your satisfaction with your breast lift. Our plastic surgeon is highly educated and trained in the latest medical advances.

Experience the best in hair restoration at Aesthetic International. Our commitment to excellence and patient satisfaction makes us the preferred choice for those seeking hair transplants in Bangalore.

Visit Aesthetic International - Hair Transplant Treatment to learn more about our services and book your consultation today!

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 11 — BREEDING

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — heizou, neuvillette, wriothesley, albedo

— warnings. — fem! reader, breeding, lots of cum n spit, hitting it raw, petnames used: darling, baby, rough syx

⚝ — HEIZOU

it's addiction, a form of fixation and heizou doesn't stop until you're crammed full of his cum— literally as his fingers spread his seed from your lips down to your chin to watch it mark you, your tears mixing in as he presses his thumb past your tongue, just to see how far you'll take it.

"you're a damn masterpiece," heizou coos, tilting his head with a grin that's not just wicked— it's fanatical, wild, the kind of grin a man gives when he's long past the point of reason and fully drowning in sexual passion. his fingers were still wet with you, his knuckles glistening, and yet he kept them poised just out of reach, just enough to make you twitch, grind, gasp like you're coming undone without him even touching you.

"look at you," he drawls, voice so sweet you'd never tell he's feigning innocence, "quivering mess for me already? you don't even know what to do with yourself, do you?"

without looking away once, the detective watches— fixated as your thighs tremble, as your hips lift just barely from the mattress, chasing friction like you'll die if you don't get it, body slick and aching, soaked enough to stain the sheets beneath you— and archons, does it make him smirk wider, you feel it, the raw sting of overstimulation threading through your gut, curling your toes, making your stomach pull tight with the weight of everything he isn't letting you have.

"fuck, i knew you'd take it all baby," heizou's already painted you in his spit and cum— yet it's still not enough, it never was— instead, he pulls his cock from your tightness just to smear the tip over your swollen entrance, patting his dick on your folds, laughing breathlessly when it makes a filthy squelch, "this mess? this is mine, mine, gonna fuck it into you until it's leaking out onto the sheets, no one else gets to see you like this,"

and the detective makes sure of it— everlastingly keeping you plugged full of his slender fingers, thick cock and tongue and when you cum again, after he's bred and bred and bred you the entire night, you're spasming and gushing so violently it splatters all over the sheets. yet he doesn't stop, instead, heizou just shoves his cock back in deeper, harder until you writhe beneath him, back bowing again and again— each arch a reflex, a raw plea for mercy as numerous sparks burst behind your eyes, "gonna mark you with it baby, yeah? you'll be dripping for days."

⚝ — NEUVILLETTE

neuvillette's formality cracks the moment he realizes what he's done— your folds already glistening, your mouth open and wanting, wanting him and archons, dragons beyond, the way you soaked him up was putting him on edge as he drops to his knees like it's judgment, tongue diving in to taste his mess, face buried, nose brushing your clit as he moans like it's the only language he knew, "so wet already, you— you need correction,"

he rasps— voice rough, an octave lower, soaked in something that might be reverence if it weren't so wretchedly obscene— and still, he doesn't let you touch yourself, not even when your thighs begin to shake around him, not even when your body rocks with the force of how close you were, how desperately your slick pussy clenched around nothing in search of friction.

you ache, no, you burn, for the pressure the moment his girth was pressing into your walls again, the smallest touch setting you on fire, for anything to soothe the overwhelming throb between your legs.

your hands twitch where he's pinned them down, the need so sharp it's nearly painful as your stomach coils, tight and low and heavy, and all you could think about was grinding your hand down to help yourself out, circling your clit fast and frantic until you fell apart.

but neuvillette only watches you, drinking in the sight of your helpless squirming, the flushed heat of your skin, the lust in your eyes, the way you beg without words.

the man wanted to see it— that aching edge where pleasure becomes unbearable, he wanted to know how far he could take it, how much you'll squirm, how much of his seed he could store inside you, how loudly you'll whimper, all because he won't let you come.

"you want it that badly?" he whispers, lips ghosting your throat, "oh so greedy, darling, so desperate, do you even know how you look like this? shaking for me?"

and he still doesn't let you touch yourself.

he fucks you until you sob, fills you until you cry, until your juices were slicking up his pelvis, spit frothed into the mess, his hands keeping you open wide before he pulls out to slowly rub his shaft between your folds again, your slick and his cum coating his erection so fucking nicely the overstimulation has you grinding down against his cock in mindless circles, hips chasing friction like you're possessed, like your body had forgotten how to stop.

"i need to see it," he growls, standing, slapping the head of his cock against your cunt, "need to watch it drip out," and when neuvillette fucks you full, it's with unbearable precision— every thrust calculated, dragging your walls wide and making you feel how his cum fills every inch, "don't try to hold it in, darling, let it spill out, let them all see how thoroughly i've claimed you."

⚝ — WRIOTHESLEY

to wriothesley it was certainly not enough to just fuck you— he wanted to destroy you, breed you until you're feeling only him and his warm seed pooling from your hole, the man wanted to see his release flooding your pussy, cum mixed with spit and arousal as he mouths at your chest, grunting into your skin.

"you're so fucking good at taking it," he pants, "i'm impressed," as his voice turns husky, cracked open at the seams, like he's trying to growl but the sound gets caught somewhere in his chest— because fuck, you're tight, yeah? tighter than he expected, tighter than he could handle without his breath catching and his rhythm faltering for just a split second.

naturally the handsome man doesn't say it out loud, but you could feel it— how his hips were stuttering every now and then, how his hands gripped you harder, how his mouth parted like he's choking on the heat of it all.

he's supposed to be in control, isn't he? always was, right? but the way you clenched around him made something shiver through his whole body as his forehead falls against yours, damp and hot, "fuck, you're gonna make me cum too fast like this— shit—'", as his cock drags so deep inside you it knocks the rationality off your head, your toes curling and thighs twitching in exhaustion, hips jerking involuntarily, yet he's thrusting down harder just to make you feel more of that unbearable stretch.

the obscene pressure made your mind go white and your slick drip down his thighs, "but you're gonna take more, aren't you? I'm gonna stretch this hole until it can't hold another drop," as wriothesley shamelessly spits between your legs before watching it drip down to mix with your slick, his groans landing on your ears as if it's heaven.

"gonna fill you again," he growls between thrusts, hips slamming into you, "again and again until i fucking see it running down your thighs," as he doesn't stop even when pretty tears bead your lashes— wriothesley just flips you over, presses your cheek to the soaked sheets and fucks you through your whimpers, "you're gonna wear my cum like a brand."

⚝ — ALBEDO

scientific? sure, terrifying and obsessed? please.

albedo watches every twitch, every pulse, every droplet that slips from your hole after the first round, "fascinating," he mutters something dark underneath his breath, fingers sinking into the obscene slick between your thighs— warm, wet, and clenching as though your body itself was begging.

he groans low when he feels the way you pulse around nothing, fluttering and soaked, hips twitching like you cannot bear the emptiness. yet his hips don't move at first— just press deeper, just spread you wider, parting the mess to watch how it drips and sticks, how your whole body quivers from the exposure.

albedo curses, "ahh, you're throbbing for me already? this way? this wet?" it leaves him like instinct, resembling life— something deeper than thought, older than want, "you're clenching so tightly, it's trying to hold me in," as he continues to be brutal the second time— driving in so hard your breath leaves your lungs, his mouth messy and open against yours.

"do you feel that?" he hisses, sharp and low, but you barely hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears, your toes curling helplessly, nails digging into his back as sparks of raw lust flare through you— wickedly so, unrelenting shocks that made your body flinch and jolt against him.

your stomach felt tight, heavy, on the brink of exploding— like it's about to break open from how close you were, how full you felt of his cum, how deep albedo was inside you.

every thrust knocks your head back into the pillows, making your body seize up like it's trying to run and stay all at once as he groans when you clamp down at his cock, and the way you twitch around him drove him into madness, "how it gushes back out when i pull? yet i hate seeing it leave you," as he spreads you wider, studies how his cum seeps out, then pushes it back in with slow, filthy thrusts, "again, you'll take it all again, i want you dripping from the mouth and cunt, maybe both— marked inside and out, i need to make it happen."

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