#but her love is so powerful it can almost undo it

[itspileofgoodthings]

i've said this so many times but the all-encompassing love and protection in Taylor saying "chasing make-believe status last time you felt free was when none of that shit mattered cause you were with me" shakes me to my core

[utterlyazriel]

an eternity, my love

eep! this is a bit longer than the last at just over 6k forgive me... but thank so much for all love on the first piece 🥹 and thank u for all your lovely ideas! i hope this does sum justice to the nonnie who asked for further miscommuncation... <3 part one here but u don’t need to read it to read this :)

How does one even begin to decide what to wear to dinner with a person, the person, who matched your soul perfectly?

When your friend had hunted her way through clothing stores of Velaris and stashed away a custom dress — far fancier than anything you owned — for the first date with her mate, you had laughed at her.

Now, staring at your closet in only your undergarments, you were beginning to envy her preparation.

Seriously, how are you supposed to choose?

You pick up your latest addition to your closet, a glossy dress the colour of red wine that reveals the length of your legs and planes of your collarbones— perfect for a night out dancing.

With a grimace, you place it back on the hanger. It was far more scandalous than you would want to be on a first date, even though — well, you’re sure that, being mates, Azriel would like anything you wore.

You heave a sigh. An uneasy prickle beneath your skin has you crossing your arms; it was almost alarming how badly you wanted to impress him. But… mating bonds were rare and powerful.

Almost as if you had summoned it — in fact, maybe you had — there’s a soft shimmer in your chest. Your beautiful glow, the bridge between you and Azriel humming to life. In a way you can’t explain, it’s as though you can feel him soothe across your mind, his soft touch full of assurances.

He’s comforting you. All your emotions must be shooting down the bond without your permission. Gods, that would take some getting used to. You wonder if he can feel your resounding pang of embarrassment as well.

You do your best to push back something less nervous, more of your excitement for the night to come — and you know, without even seeing him, he’s smiling.

After another moment of fussing, you decide on something simpler than your glossy night dress.

Comfortable black slacks with plenty of flow to them and a shirt you thought was one of your nicer ones. With the slightest touch ups to your makeup, you rush yourself out the door before you convince yourself to change all over again.

The Sidra keeps you company, a rush of water beside you as you wind through the streets of Velaris, eyes flicking up to take in the darkening sky. The sun was sinking below the mountain tops, rays tickling across the ridges.

And while you could admit that Velaris was very beautiful in the daytime, you were a true Night court citizen— and believed its true beauty came out at night.

Somehow, despite the lack of concrete plans made as you had ushered the male out of your office, you knew resolutely that you would be able to find him. You weren’t even worried about the timing of it all. It was… what was the word? Absurd. Insane. Utterly, breathtakingly incredible.

Sure enough, as you exit the alley and round the corner, your eyes falling on the sage green building you reside in for work, there he is; waiting for you.

You inhale a sharp breath. A thousand cells in your body fizz, hum, and glow, at the mere sight of him.

It's easy to understand just how he had garnered his dark reputation, the image of him every bit of the Spymaster of the Night Court — a title like Shadowsinger has never been so fitting for him.

He’s blurred at the edges, a thousand tiny wisps that blend him into the shadows of the nighttime. His wings stretch up behind, towering over his already tall frame, black as ink, and beneath his darkened attire, you can spot his tan skin. Your eyes drag up his neck, tracing his adam's apple, along the scruff of his sharp jaw until you reach his hazel eyes.

Your heart burns.

In the depth of it, you know, if he doesn't love you, he will undo you completely.

It's wholly terrifying to come face to face with — the intensity of the mating bond scorching through your mind like a fierce wind, burning embers left in its wake.

It's enough to make you pause, the definitive thought that doing this, offering him your heart and trusting him, could very well lead to your ruin.

Your chest squeezes tightly. You let your eyes drink in the Illyrian, the Male who waited so patiently for all those years and was prepared to wait years more, if you had asked.

Focusing, you pluck up that golden thread in your chest and hold it tightly. It heats and melts, hotter and hotter, and you know that any fear you have, you can conquer to be with him.

Ruination be damned.

—

Azriel notices you the moment your frame exits the alley, notices the moment you pause — has been able to feel you drawing nearer to him this whole time. Your every emotion is transparent to him through the bond between you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

You must not have the tightened mental shields he had come to be so familiar with over all his years. It makes sense; you are no warrior. Mental walls over your mind are not something you have ever had to concern yourself with.

Azriel vows it to be one of the things he teaches you. You deserved the privacy of your emotions, at the very least.

But... for now, Azriel can feel them all. It's why, as you round the corner, Azriel can feel your eyes on him and then, then he feels it.

The wash of fear that spills over your bond like icy water.

An old enemy rises within him. He grits his teeth, even as he feels the fear from you slide away and he tries to ignore the sting from an unhealed wound. But self-deprecation never seems to drown, no matter how much he tries to suffocate it within him.

He shifts his hands, relieved suddenly to have them covered up beneath gloves. His wings tuck in tighter, if possible, and he wills his shadows sternly to contain themselves. Something in the slightest baring of his teeth has them obeying. They shoot to his sides and make themselves scarce.

All this in time to greet you pleasantly as you bounce into view, sidling up before him with a shy grin. It's only been a few hours since he got his proper look at you and yet, you're every bit as breathtaking as you were earlier. More so, in fact.

It feels as though Azriel has never seen the sky before and you before him, are the first sunset of his life. You look so pretty that Azriel could probably gaze at you all evening if you so allowed him to.

And then, he remembers the pang of fear.

He doesn't waste time mulling over which detail of him had made you afraid — only that he would dim or change or hide any part of himself to stop it from happening again.

"Hello, again," You say, your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You have to tilt your head back to look up at his handsome face. His shadows swirl around him and despite his strict instructions, one still slips away to touch you.

You don't notice it circling your ankle, tentative and shy.

"Hello, again." Azriel echoes your words, unable to help his own glimmer of joy.

He wants to offer you his arm, his hand. Can feel it within him, down to the very marrow of his bones, the craving to be closer to you, to touch you, however he can.

Azriel swallows heavily and does what he has done over decades, over centuries; he takes the wanting and pushes it down, down, down.

The two of you begin to walk, side by side, with no destination in mind. Aimless and content at the same time.

Azriel doesn't need the bond to see the flittering of nerves hidden in your expression. The shadow still circulating around your ankle climbs higher, like it wants to comfort you too.

Azriel wills it to still, desperate to not scare you again. He drops his shoulders from his usual warrior posture in hopes of making himself a little smaller.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” He says reassuringly.

You steal a glimpse at him, your smile breaking into a grin. Your nerves are still potent but less so.

“Who says I’m nervous?”

Azriel smiles gently, his eyes dancing across your face as he reads your lie easily. “I do."

There's a scrunch between your eyebrows then, like he had seen during his time in your office earlier. Azriel places a hand on his chest, over the place where the glowing tug is strongest.

"I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at his gloved hand, the cogs in your brain spinning and turning at a rapid rate. Still strolling, your hand rises slowly and touches to the same spot on your own chest. Azriel can feel his heart stutter at the sight, you holding the spot that connected you to him undeniably.

"You can?" Your gaze lifts to his face, puzzlement adorning your features. You frown and focus for a moment, staring hard into the distance — and Azriel feels a sudden twinge of disgust through the thread.

"Did you feel that?" You ask, eyes wide and curious.

Azriel nods wordlessly and he can't help but ask. "What is it you were thinking of?"

You look embarrassed for a moment, eyes averting to the ground. You chuckle awkwardly and tuck your hair behind your ears, glancing back up at the Male with a sheepish smile.

"Brussels sprouts."

Azriel blinks once, twice, and then has to turn to hide his smile. He tries to cover his laugh with a cough. It doesn't work, given how you make a small noise of indignation. He turns back, his politest expression on.

"Don't laugh at me!" You whine, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder. Your touch radiates through his body like a drop of golden sun, blazing warm.

"You're right," Azriel hums, his lips twitching as he presses back his smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is important knowledge I should be filing away. I swear on my life I will feed you no brussels sprouts this evening, or any in the future."

He wants to nudge your shoulder with his own, just to touch you, wants to reach out as easily as you had. But his shadows slip before his self-control does, skittering out along onto your shoulder and giving you a small shock and Azriel remembers himself. His fists clench tightly at his sides.

You walk side by side all evening, like two planets in orbit — close, oh so close, but never quite touching.

—

The first date you share is nothing short of… wonderful.

Resolutely and overwhelming good, the entire date you can't help but feel as though your very soul is singing, a thousand particles blithesome at the nearness you get to share with Azriel. He's surprising in a manner of ways.

Firstly, he's terribly quiet.

Next to him, you look quite the blabber-mouth, no matter how much he insists he enjoys it. His dark eyes are intense as they watch you closely, soaking in every word that passes your lips, and yet, beneath it, his dry sense of humour comes out to play. There's the occasional tease, almost as if just to see if he could make you flustered. (He could, easily).

With a Male as beautiful as him, suited to your very being in every way, it's nearly unbearable how much you ache for him. How much his very attention creeps down your neck and makes every nerve along your spine tingle.

You know it will take some time to get used to his unwavering and devoted attention.

There’s… just one small, itty-bitty, tiny problem.

He doesn’t touch you.

Throughout that whole first evening, you had noticed it somewhat— a flex in his gloved hands, a moment where his wing strayed too close only to be pulled back in a flash, even his shadows, darting out to be near you but never quite touching you as they had on that first meeting.

His hands reach out but they do not find you.

At first, you believed it was a first date thing. Azriel was, first and foremost, a gentleman, and you thought perhaps, his skirting touch, like his hand lingering over the small of your back but not touching it, was to be polite. Courteous and gracious.

Then, you had seen him just two days after that date, all bundled up in your giddiness that it had managed to slip your mind.

The two of you had spent the day together, traversing through the market — before you quickly found a quieter space for your mate as it became clear that large bustling areas, such as the Palace of Threads and Jewels, were not so suited to his tastes.

As you had tugged him out of the crowd, laughing over your shoulder at how he fought to keep his broad wings from knocking into anyone else, the thought suddenly snapped back into you.

Though you yearned to link his arm with your own, to interlace your fingers with his, you remembered his hesitance. Remembered the hover of his gloved hand.

And so, you dropped his arm the moment you cleared the crowd.

A hurt warbled deep within you to so do and knowing you were not the deftest at schooling your expressions, you hid your face so you could contain your childish reactions. You huffed at your own upset. What matter is it if your mate has no affinity to touch?

Truly, it was a miracle to have found a mate at all, you tried to scold yourself. You would not take him for granted for a moment, not even if it was not quite the picture of perfection you had envisioned.

Rooted deep in you was a truth; you could abide by this, abstain to his level of comfort for years, for millennia, if it made him happier.

The fabric of the mating bond, connecting the two of you intrinsically, made it so you would not want it any other way.

It's a decidedly Azriel thing.

He always wears the gloves, he never touches you more than he has to, and he's got... this really specific look when you're doing a terrible job of hiding your emotions.

As he had vowed, Azriel had set about teaching you how to build the mental walls up within your mind, brick by brick by brick. While it would help you hold against daemati if that loathsome situation should ever arise, it would also shield you from your mate.

It would protect you from having your emotions ripped out for him to see, no matter how much you held back — if it was in your mind, it would travel down the bond.

So, the wall had to be built. It had been tedious, tricky, and tiring work. Yet every time you would feel yourself ready to throw in the towel, Azriel would lean in closer, his hazel eyes softened, and his hand resting upon your arm, thumb swatching up and down, to encourage you.

"I know it is tiresome," He had mused, that faint smile twitching at his lips as you scowled at the ground. His thumb was still moving, still drawing light circles on your bicep. The skin beneath it blazed with warmth. "But it is worth it, that I can promise. You deserve this privacy, my dear. I would never wish to take it from you."

My dear, my dear, my dear— the words had sunk into your sternum and bloomed, bright and golden.

It's enough to hold onto, his kind affections. The sweet shape of his mouth when it says your name. The way his lashes kiss in the corner when he can't hold back his smile.

It's enough to soothe yourself over. To take the lack of touch on the chin and swallow down your desire for more.

It's why— why you can't help yourself— why you couldn't tear your eyes away from Azriel's hand where it touches Cassian's arm.

You're meeting his family today, which you've quickly realised doesn't mean his mother or father but instead means... the literal Highlord of the Night Court.

There are several warriors crowded around the cramped entrance room to the River House. Each of them is taller than you, and two of them with the very same huge wingspans that you've come to revere on your own mate.

Your usual talkativeness has been dimmed in your shock, though, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Azriel is a force to be reckoned with, honed over decades, and the Spymaster of the Night Court. You know these things. The company he keeps makes sense.

Somehow... still, seeing them all together leaves you strikingly speechless. The legion that protects your home — a family.

Rhysand greets you first, dapper in his dark attire, his violet eyes equal parts calculating and welcoming as he steps forward and offers his hand.

Despite the fact you have never bowed to him before, you still have to repress the urge. His power is overwhelming, the very night lapping at his edges and you're suddenly very grateful to be meeting him as a friend and not as a foe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rhysand's voice purrs out, soft as silk. When you place your hand in his, he brings it to his lips and presses a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

"Any friend of Azriel's is a friend of mine."

You can feel your own heart thundering in your chest. Azriel hovers behind you, his presence soothing in itself. You can't see it but his wings are outstretched towards you, cocooning around you ever so slightly. A shadow hovers behind your shoulder, just out of sight.

"I— the pleasure is mine, my Highlord." You manage to make yourself speak.

You almost wish you hadn't when your words inspire a burst of laughter from one of the others behind Rhysand, the other Illyrian. He's tall, his hair dark but longer than your mate's own.

As your hand is dropped, Rhysand turns to scowl at the Male laughing, and you only grow further perplexed when he gives a whack against the other's shoulder. They begin to squabble for a moment — and you don't even hear Azriel move until he's speaking, his lips right by your ear.

"You'll have to forgive Cassian." His voice is low, raspy in a way that sends a zing down your spine. You shiver lightly. "He can be well-mannered at the best of times. But I promise he isn't laughing at you."

The two Males seem to tune back into Azriel's words, even though they had been whispered for you specifically.

"It's true!" The Illyrian, Cassian you now know, pipes up. He brandishes a devilishly handsome grin at you, with his hands held up in defense. "I apologise. It just still makes me laugh to see someone address this one so formally."

You blink. "But... he is the Highlord."

Azriel speaks again, bent over still to talk in your ear, but much less of a whisper this time. "Rhys is our Highlord but he does not bother with such formalities."

"And," Cassian interjects, lugging a punch into Rhy's shoulder, much like the other had done to him not a moment before. "Before he was the o'mighty Highlord, he was our friend."

Cassian says the word o'mighty with such an air of sarcasm that you can't help but glance at Rhys, sure he wouldn't take such disrespect. But around you, there are only easy grins.

"Might we move to somewhere more comfortable than the doorway," Azriel speaks up from behind you, his voice dry. "Unless that is, you're all hoping to do one-on-one greetings with her?"

There it is, the dry sense of humour you've come to adore. The group before you seems to grumble, as if they were quite keen on the one-on-one meetings but begin to move through the house.

One of the group dips back to walk beside you and you do your best not to repeat your past mistakes, even as your eyes widen almost comically. Azriel chuckles silently to himself, feeling your polite astonishment down the bond.

"It's so great to finally meet you.” Feyre, your Highlady greets you, her pretty face rife with glee. She seems genuinely very happy to make your acquaintance. "Azriel has told me all about you."

You stumble in surprise, your eyes casting back to Azriel behind the pair of you. His eyes are fixed on Feyre, narrowed at her blatant betrayal, his shadows swirling around him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and you smother a laugh.

When his eyes shift over to you, you're positively delighted at how his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of ruby.

"Feyre is very persuasive when she wants to be." He murmurs, almost grumbling. You turn back to the Highlady and she grins at you, devious and captivating all at once.

It’s a whirlwind once you reach one of the many living rooms, each member of Azriel’s family all very eager to shake your hand.

Cassian grips it firm, his grin still on the side of wicked as he tells you he’s been waiting years to find the woman who could contain Azriel. Nesta, his mate as you find out, is a fierce kind of pretty with a grip as strong as Cassian’s. She tells you welcome to the family with the smile of a shark.

Morrigon is next, breathtakingly gorgeous, and every bit as charismatic as Azriel had described. You don't catch the glimpse between Mor and Cassian, not the beat of relief they both feel at your arrival in their lives— in Azriel's life.

It's swallowed up in her words, going a mile a minute. She jumps about, like popcorn in a pan, overly keen to finally speak to the one whom the Mother deemed worthy of Azriel’s heart. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet?

“Mor,” Azriel warns, after her twelfth consecutive question about your life. He hasn’t moved from his protective position behind you, close enough you can feel the heat of his body. His wings had brushed your shoulder just once.

“Yeah, Mor,” Rhys jeers. He nudges his cousin in the side playfully and Cassian snickers behind the group. “Give the girl some time to breathe.”

Even with all of Azriel's masterclass on who you would be meeting, it's still terribly overwhelming just trying to keep track of them all. They're each such strong spirits, each with seemingly a thousand battles in their past and far more years with Azriel.

On top of this is the fact you met both your Highlord and Highlady so casually in one single afternoon. It's difficult to not be daunted by the group that is so clearly intertwined with each other on a deeper level altogether— bonded by devastation and choosing each other through love.

Try as you might, you can feel the seed of doubt, of insecurity, make a home between your ribs.

You clamp down the shields you've spent the last few weeks learning, building the wall up and holding it tight. It's silly to feel dismayed because these Fae, these friends, know your mate better than you do.

Azriel had told you he had been waiting for you for five hundred years. For the first time since you've met him, you wonder if he was ever disappointed.

And then— then, you see it.

Azriel's hand on Cassian's arm. Then the half embrace they share, a hand on each other's neck as Cassian grins, wild and fierce, and presses his forehead against Azriel's own; brothers, sharing a moment of euphoria at the other finding his long-deserved happiness.

You should be soaking in the smile Azriel hides from you too often, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes. But instead, you can't see past it, can't stop the loop in your own mind as it prints a fact over and over and over.

It isn't an Azriel thing; it's a you thing.

He doesn't touch you.

The mental walls in your mind feel paper-thin as a fresh kind of agony ripples through your chest. The soft rejection of a mate stings, a papercut on your very heart. You can feel it warble through you and know, terribly, the exact moment that Azriel feels it too.

His head whips around, his dark shadows that surround him suddenly spinning and flitting faster than before— a couple dive across the room to you.

You stand up and the chair scrapes noisily beneath you.

"I—" You say before you realise you haven't planned an exit or an excuse in the slightest. Azriel's gaze burns into you. You turn to Feyre instead, who had been talking across from you when you rudely stood up.

"I'm so sorry, I just—" Some excuse, any excuse! "I think I— left the stove on."

It's a lie. A complete utter lie that fools no one in the room as you retreat from it hastily. None of them try to stop you though, which you're thankful for. Each of them watches, every expression slightly concerned as you hurry out of the room, your feet walking backward rapidly until you bump into the door frame.

You pass through it with your eyes on the floor, knowing that all of the eyes are on you. You know the ones you can feel searing into your soul are Azriel's.

You leave the River House. You walk along the Sidra, your steps hurried and your chin tucked low. It hurts. It hurts the feeling inside you. A tear streaks down your cheek, unbidden, and collects on your jaw. You wipe it away meanly.

The sight of your apartment door is an overwhelming comfort, one that has you sighing aloud as you rush up to it, your fingers already digging around in your pockets for your key.

And like always, you never hear him coming.

"What happened?" Azriel asks, his voice almost pained.

You give a little yelp of surprise and whip around, remembering half a second later that there's still evidence on your face of your tears. Azriel grows characteristically still, his hazel eyes fixed on yours as you sniffle for a moment, aggravation beginning to creep in.

He could feel everything from you and you got... what? Whatever he deemed fit to offer? How is that fair?

His usually wispy shadows are inkier than usual, almost tornado-ing around his shoulders. They keep leaping out towards you before being caught in an invisible net, a barrier between you and them.

Even as Azriel remains motionless, his eyes are the opposite—they jump around, searching, hunting, begging to find the cause of your pain. Had it been one of his friends?

"Please," He tries his words again.

His heart throbs painfully when you finally find your key and turn your back on him without a word, unlocking your door and pressing your way inside. He follows quickly, wings tucked in tight, unable to keep his shadows at his side this time. They whiz to you, circling your ankles protectively.

"Please," Azriel says, an anguished growl to his words. "What hurt you? I will— my friends, if they said something— if it was someone, I hunt them down and make it right for you."

You inhale sharply and when you speak, your tone is cold in a way you have never used before with Azriel. You say the words without thinking.

"It would be impossible to hunt yourself, Azriel."

Regret howls through you like a hurricane the moment you say the words. You don't mean to be mean, jealous, or whatever unseemly emotion you can't stop from sprouting in your chest, growing in size, tangling into your heartstrings like twisted gnarled vines. It hurts.

You turn back to him, mouth open. No words come out.

Hurt is slashed across his face, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, his shadows tucked in tight. It's as though he's blended into the very air, the wispy edge of him threatening to retreat into his own shadows.

All his emotions on display just for a moment, before they're schooled away. Tucked away, hidden, not for you to see.

Inside, your hurricane howls again, this time in pain.

You can tell he feels it, even as you mentally gather your bricks. It isn't fair. How can he have every bit of you and you get what he pleases to return?

You want to know him completely, want to see every part of his rugged, weathered soul, and love him anyway. It's an untold type of agony to have him deny you.

"My love," His feet finally move, his wings almost dragging on the floor as he steps forward, slowly, as though he was afraid he might spook you.

"Tell me how to fix this pain." He pleads. His gloved hands are held out, palms up and suddenly, he looks nothing like a warrior. Just a Male, afraid of losing what is most dear to him. You shake your head, like a child, and keep building your brick wall.

"Please don’t keep this from me," He takes another step forward, his shadows sent awry as they dart across to you. You can feel them on your calves, on your arms, feel the tiny kisses they leave. Azriel speaks again, voice low. "My love, I can feel your pain.”

You can't help how you screw your eyes closed, the ache in your chest unbearable— made worse when you know he can feel it too.

"That is my problem." You utter the words quietly, eyes still clenched shut, knowing he can hear you. He takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat of his enormous frame, his wings bracketing around you. "I cannot hide anything from you."

Azriel makes a noise, a punched-out wounded sound that reverberates down the bond.

"My love," He murmurs for the third time. Down the bond, you can feel his sweet love, his golden gentle feelings travelling along to assure you. "I would not wish for you to hide anything from me."

“But you hide everything from me." You whine, eyes finally crinkling open. Azriel stares down at you, his eyes softer than they've ever been. You can see the hurt swimming in them, the hurt you've caused. Still, you speak.

"You hide your emotions. You hide your touch, yet you give it willingly to your friends." You share each ugly thought with him, whispered as you gaze into his face to search for your answers.

Lifting your hands, you curl your fingers around his wrists tentatively. Azriel swallows heavily, his eyes dancing down to where you're touching him. You slide your hands forward, dragging the pads of your fingers over his pulse, along his palm, til your hands are holding his gloved ones.

"Is there some test I don't know about?" You ask, your focus on your intertwined hands. "Is there— do I have to earn this?"

"No," Azriel chokes out the word suddenly. You look up at him. He clears his throat and you feel his hands grip yours back, surer and stronger than you had. "No, I'm sorry. There is no test, nothing to prove you deserving of this. I just..."

His words trail off and you watch as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if gathering his courage. His hands slide from yours, pulled backward and you nearly feel the urge to cry once more— before you realise he's removing his gloves.

The skin of them is warped, you realise acutely with horror. The skin of his hands is swirled and mottled, an injury long healed but scarred for eternity. Azriel is watching your face closely, holding his hands close to his chest as though he was prepared to hide them away at the first flicker of fear.

You're grateful for the link between and all your shoddy attempts at blocking him out. Your love and your unwavering devotion drifts along the bond.

Azriel shudders, his wings giving the tiniest shiver. Slowly, gently, he reaches out towards you. You feel his hands, the unruly scarred feel of his skin sliding along your jaw to hold it tenderly. He has never held you like this before.

He cradles your face gently — like his hands have never held weapons of war, like they aren't twisted and marred with a memory he can't forget, like they're worthy of holding something so precious.

Azriel holds you as if you're holy — and he's come to kneel at your altar.

"I was afraid of what you would think." He admits. His voice is hoarse, gravelly as he fights off the lump in his throat. "I— on the first day we met, I felt your fear along the bond and—"

"It was not of you." You interrupt him, your hands jumping up to cover his own where they hold you. Azriel inhales sharply, eyes darting to watch.

But you pay him no heed, the palm of your hand covering his like a lover would. You let your thumb soothe up at down the ridges of his skin. You let your love ripple along the bond.

"It was not fear of you, Azriel." You repeat, your voice soft. His eyes are still fixed on your joined hands. His wings have begun to pick up, no longer drooping behind his back— you're not sure if he even notices.

"It was fear for how strongly I already felt for you." You lean into his hand and Azriel lets you, lets the length of your nose nuzzle into the touch of his hands — something no one in all his years of living had ever done before.

"It was fear that you already could ruin me," The words are murmured. "And that I would let you."

You whisper his name to pull his wide-eyed gaze from where his hands touch you and his hazel eyes burn into yours. Every whitened scar on his skin, every eyelash, the adorable pinch between his eyebrows; you drink it all in and smile at him. Azriel, your mate.

"Azriel, I chose this despite that fear. I choose you.”

Azriel quivers at the words, at your unflinching tone and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, time moving around you, untouching, with such a perfect grace.

“I choose you too,” He murmurs, an emotion so strong a fire of possessiveness streaks down the bond. This time, you can feel his wall melt away, allowing you access to all he feels — his mountain of fear and his melting relief.

“Forgive me—” He begins and you laugh without meaning to, cutting him off.

“Stop,” you say, the word light and as pretty as your grin. “We keep doing this to ourselves, tying ourselves in knots over and over.”

Azriel laughs, his lips twitching into a smile as he allows himself to stroke his thumb lovingly over your cheek. The way you melt beneath it, your lashes fluttering and heart burning so brightly he can feel it in his own chest too— Azriel knows this longing will long outlive his body.

“We do,” He agrees. He dips his head a little lower, probably the only apology you’ll let him have, and inhales shakily. His hands shift across your face, down to hold your chin, his fingers pressed together tightly to hide the way they quiver.

“Then let me apologise in another way,” He murmurs, his voice closer to playful. “In a way I’ve been selfishly depriving you of.”

And when he kisses you, it’s with a reverence that softens all your corners.

His lips are plush and sweet, and with the way he dedicates himself to your bottom lip, you can’t help how you sigh into his mouth. He finds home in the curve of your mouth.

It’s delirious the way he kisses once, twice, three times like he’s hungry for something found only in your lips.

Your hands stagger forward, leaving his own to wind over around his neck. Your fingers curl up, raking through the hair on the nape of his neck — feeling the shiver that travels up his spine, his wings giving a little flare out.

He kisses you breathless, one hand abandoning your jaw to wrap snugly around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, something within you glows molten gold at the panting that leaves his lips. He’s gazing at you, his hazel eyes alight in a way you haven’t quite seen before. His wings shift behind his shoulders, curling forward to wrap the two of you together, not quite touching.

Your heart thrills. You grin, your lips still just an inch apart as Azriel nudges forward, his own twitching in that way when he fights his smile. His lips brush yours, his smile barely held back.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He says, sweet and low, allowing the smile to finally pull his pretty mouth up at the corners.

“Or should I make it up to you a little more?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, chaste and gentle.

“Mmm,” your eyes are bright as they peer up at him, full of playful mirth and adoring affection. “You're forgiven but... I think you should make it up to me, just a little more.”

Azriel willingly obliges, his smile as sweet as the moonlight.

—

some people i thought might want to be tagged :)

@strangerstilinski @astoriaviviane @lana08 @florence-end @lportes-22 @torrick17 @florencemtrash @sidthedollface2 @seafrost-fangirl @goldenmagnolias @jeweline16 @meshellexplosionmurder @michellexgriffey @susiekern @toobsessedsstuff @fxckmiup @littlebookbengal @elenapril0502 @glitterypirateduck @hnyclover @technoelfie @itsapunklife @coffeecares

[oizysian]

Part I: Looking Out For You

I Set the World on Fire masterlist

Warnings: blood, death, murder, sex

Word count: 4.3k

About Five Years Ago

She completely surrounded me. She was on top of me, around me, inside me, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was the love of my life and we were going to start a family together soon - or at least that’s what I imagined. My imagination ran wild especially when she was fucking me so lovingly, so deep and so hard that I could almost feel her inside of my mind, completely consuming me.

Her strap filled me up completely, stretching me out so impossibly far that I struggled to take her fully.

“You can take it, detka, I know you can.” She whispered in my ear, pressing her lips to my neck and letting her teeth graze against the sensitive skin there.

“Unh, W-Wanda,” I moaned softly, wrapping my arms around her tightly and pulling her close, my legs already linked around her hips and holding her as close as humanly possible. “S’too much.”

Her lips went from my neck, upwards towards my own lips, where she wasted no time in swallowing my whimpering moans as she kissed me. She pounded into me, the small, rickety bed creaking with her powerful thrusts. She knew what I needed, and when and how I needed it. She knew how to make my body sing when she touched me, and I trusted her with every fiber of my being.

“Sis!” Pietro’s voice boomed from behind the closed door, his fist pounding upon the old wood. “We’ve got a job! Finish up or I’ll finish it for you!”

“Shut up, idiot!” She called back to him, her fists balled up beside either side of my head, gripping the sheets as she fucked me, hard and fast.

“Wanda,” I whined, slightly put off by the fact that Pietro had heard and interrupted us. “Kiss me.”

She looked down into my eyes and smiled, bringing her head down and capturing my lips with her own in a passionate kiss. This was everything I needed in life. If we had our own place, it would’ve been ideal, but having her, like this, was everything I ever wanted.

“I’m going to cum, detka. Are you close?”

I nodded and she pressed her forehead against my own as she balanced herself on her elbow, bringing her other arm down so she could play with my clit. She rubbed tight circles along my throbbing bundle of nerves, sending jolts of electricity throughout my body. I felt my orgasm approaching as she continued to touch me with her magical fingers, my brows knitting together as the coil within me tightened and then suddenly released. I dug my nails into her shoulders as I came on her cock, her own high rushing through her as she finished pounding me into the bed, panting softly against my neck as she laid down on top of me, still inside me.

“You did so good for me, malyshka.” She said as she peppered kisses all along my jaw, grabbing my face with her clean hand and pulling me towards her, where she captured my lips once more in a searing kiss.

“Let’s go, Wanda! We don’t have all day!” Pietro called out again and I saw her roll her eyes at his words and at his impatience.

“Alright, alright.” She grumbled softly, kissing me again before sliding herself out of me. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Don’t go fucking again! We don’t have the time.”

“Shut the fuck up, Piet!” She finally yelled at him as she got up off the bed, undoing the harness around her hips and sliding it off.

I laid where she left me, my own cum dripping down my thighs and ruining the sheets beneath me. She leaned over the bed to kiss me again, smiling at my blissed out state.

“I wish I could stay and clean you up.” She ran her fingers down my cheek to my clavicle, then towards my breasts where she played with my nipple until it was a hardened bud under her touch.

“I wish you could too.” I whispered back to her, saddened by the fact that she had to leave so soon.

“I’ll be back before you know it, okay? This job should be pretty quick.” She leaned down again to press a kiss to my forehead and then walked over to the closet to get her clothes out.

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched her, her bare ass and back on display for me as she picked out her outfit.

“What do you have to do?”

“Same old, same old.” She said as she pulled out her usual black attire, looking over it before draping the dark shirt and jeans over a nearby chair. “We go in, I talk, Pietro takes, and we leave.”

My brow furrowed at her words. I didn’t really like the fact that she went on these ‘jobs’ with her brother. I worried for both of them, but she was my girlfriend, and I didn’t want her out there doing these things for a living. It was dangerous and they were playing games with people that wouldn’t think twice to have them hurt or worse.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” I whispered softly, my eyes leaving her body to look at the floor, which had suddenly become very interesting.

She sighed, facing me and coming to sit on the edge of the bed, her hand resting upon my bare thigh.

“I know, detka. One day it won’t be like this, I promise.”

She gave me a small smile and a squeeze before getting up again, grabbing her clothes and heading into the bathroom to get dressed.

I sighed softly, grabbing the blankets from the foot of the bed and wrapping them around me as I laid down again. I’d clean the sheets before Wanda got home so she’d have fresh sheets to sleep on tonight. Right now, I just couldn’t bring myself to move.

She came out a few moments later, dressed in her black clothing with her dark makeup on and her signature rings. She smiled at me and walked back over to the bed once more, pressing another kiss to my forehead before walking out of the room. I could hear Pietro bitching at her as they made their way to the entrance of our small apartment, and I kept my eyes on the closed bedroom door until I heard the front door shut and lock behind them. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when I registered the fact that I was alone. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I laid in our shared bed, wondering if this would be the last time I saw her.

It was hours later when I heard the door creak open and I realized I had fallen asleep. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and saw Wanda at the foot of the bed with a large bag.

“Wanda?” I questioned softly, sitting up against the headboard and watching as she moved around to my side of the bed in the darkness.

She flicked on the lights and the room was flooded with brightness. I squinted and looked up at her smiling face.

“Detka,” she lifted the sack up and went to flip it over, spilling its contents all over the bed. “We did it.”

I watched in disbelief as money poured out of the burlap sack, hundreds upon hundreds fell on top of my lap.

“Oh my god, Wanda.” I said, grabbing handfuls of the cash, unable to believe it was real. “Where’d you get all of this?”

“The job we just pulled.” She sat next to me, still smiling. “We just nabbed a whole bunch of drugs from some guys trying to pull one over on the family we’ve been working for.” Her smile widened. “We can finally get out of here, detka, just me and you.”

“What about Piet?” I asked, still stunned by the amount of money currently sitting on our bed.

“What about him? He got his cut. Now he can go whoring around in his own place.”

I stared at her a moment before leaping into her arms, happy tears streaking down my cheeks as I held her. This was the big break that we had been looking forward to. She let out a chuckle as she grabbed hold of me, lifting me up and kissing me fiercely.

“We’re gonna have everything we ever wanted now, malyshka. Everything you ever dreamed of having - you’ll have it.”

I smiled against her lips, looking into her deep green eyes and falling in love all over again.

With their brand new funding and newfound respect, Wanda and Pietro started their own little family, building their empire from the ground up. They recruited their old friends from the orphanage, Dimitri and Leo, and of course they had made other acquaintances while doing various jobs for various people, so they were able to make quick connections and establish themselves in record time. Everything seemed to be going well for them; they were finally in a position of power, working for and making a name for themselves. But, Pietro was a bit of a hothead and easily made enemies.

She got the call at around two in the morning. We had been sleeping, her body cocooned around my own, her fingers entwined with mine as her work phone went off.

“Ignore it,” I whispered into the darkness, and she pressed a kiss to my shoulder as she rolled over, searching for the annoying device. “Baby, c’mon,” I whined. “It’s cold without you.”

“I know, but this could be important.” She said as she grabbed the phone from under our clothes that had been thrown on the floor and sat down next to me, patting my ass gently. “Hello?”

I rarely listened in on her conversations, but after a few minutes, she was eerily quiet. I tried to hear the person on the other line, but heard nothing. Curiosity got the best of me and I rolled over to see Wanda staring off into space, her phone discarded on her lap, still open, and tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Baby,” I was instantly alert, sitting up and taking hold of her hand. “Baby, what happened?”

She inhaled shakily before finally letting her eyes fall to mine, her tears showing no signs of stopping.

“Piet. H-he’s …” She swallowed roughly. “They found him .. dead.” She let out a gut wrenching sob and fell into my arms.

I held her as she cried, unable to even fathom what she had said. Pietro was dead? I knew I couldn’t ask questions because she probably had no answers and was in no condition to answer them anyway, so I just held her. Tears fell from my own eyes as we sat in the darkness of our apartment, her cries tearing me apart. He was all she had and now she had nothing left from Sokovia.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them!” She screamed, gripping my arms as I held her. “I’m gonna kill them all!”

“Wanda, shh.” I pressed a kiss to her head and pulled her against me, trying my hardest to comfort her even though I knew there would be no comfort in anything I said or did from now on.

“Pietro … I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, practically falling limp in my arms.

She had all but collapsed, and eventually her cries subsided. She lay motionless in my embrace, her soft sniffles the only sound in our room. I pet her hair with a shaky hand, glad that she was finally calm, but not knowing what to do from here on out. Life would be different without Pietro - for both of us.

It was weeks of random breakdowns and outbursts before she came home late one night, covered in blood.

“Wanda!” I cried at the sight of her, frightened that the blood had been hers. “My god, what happened?”

“Pietro.” She said softly as I approached her, taking her face in my hands. “I finally found the one that … did it.”

“Wanda …” I didn’t know what I could possibly say to her.

Her eyes finally met mine and she looked haunted, changed like a war veteran and it sent a chill down my spine. I held her face in my hands for a moment longer before throwing myself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. What a foolish thing she had done, going after the one that killed Pietro; what a dangerous, foolish thing. It took her a moment to respond, but she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tightly, and I felt her take a deep breath against me.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” I said softly, realizing we were now both covered in some dead man’s blood.

I pulled away from her and took hold of her hand, walking her slowly towards the bathroom. I was afraid that any sudden movements would set her off, and god only knew what she would do in the condition she was in.

Inside the bathroom, I undressed her and started the bath, regulating the water so she could get in and get cleaned up. Once she was situated inside the warmth of the water, I took her clothes and put them in a garbage bag. I would dispose of them tomorrow. I returned to the bathroom to find the water a reddish hue, and her face stained with streaks of tears.

“My love,” I knelt down next to the tub, grabbing the washcloth off the edge of the tub and getting it wet. “I’m gonna take care of you. It’s all going to be okay.”

She sniffled softly and nodded as I put a dollop of soap on the cloth and began washing her bloody, dirty, body. She had no visible wounds that I could see, which I was thankful for, but she was suffering in a way that I had no way of healing. I didn’t know what to do for her other than just be there and take care of her the best I could. I feared it wouldn’t be enough.

Present Day

“Dimitri told me he noticed someone following you around the shops the other day.” Wanda said as we ate breakfast together.

I shrugged slightly.

“I didn’t really notice. I always have someone following me.”

She hummed softly as she sipped her coffee, her eyes falling to the newspaper on the table.

“You should probably pay attention.”

“It’s not my job.” I snapped and she narrowed her eyes at me, clearly annoyed.

“No, but it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“That’s what you have Dimitri and Leo following me around for.” I grumbled. “I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace when I’m out.”

“Would you rather they not be there and something happening to you?”

My eyes fell to my untouched plate of food and I shook my head.

“No.” I said under my breath.

“What was that?”

“No.” I repeated, finally lifting my head to look at her.

She was sitting across from me, smug as all hell, knowing that I was wrong in complaining about being followed by her guards. After Pietro was killed, things changed, and if I ever went out without her, which was often, I had to be followed by one of them. She didn’t take risks like she used to. She controlled everyone and everything. If it couldn’t be controlled, she would break it until it could be or she would get rid of it.

“Don’t go out for a while.” She put her cup down and stood from her seat. “I trust Dimitri. If he says someone was following you, someone was following you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, leaning my head on my hand and sighing at her words. I was just another thing for her to control nowadays. How I wished for the days when we were young, when we were carefree and wild. Before … well, before Pietro died.

No, he didn’t die. He was murdered. Which then led Wanda to becoming a murderer herself. God knows how many people she had killed or killed herself over the years to get where she was now. At first it bothered me; I worried for her safety and for her sanity, but now I realized that it was just a part of her. She kept her hands clean nowadays, but she still was responsible for the disappearances of quite a few people.

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t go out?” I asked, sadness in my voice.

“Well,” she started, fixing her outfit. “You can come into my office and suck my cock while I make some calls.”

“That’s all you want me for - for your pleasure.”

“Do you think I can feel it when you suck off my plastic dick?” She snapped. “No, after you get it nice and wet I plan on fucking you in all of your holes until I’m satisfied.” She let out a huff. “Or until you’re completely blissed out.”

I didn’t understand her desire to fuck me until I couldn’t think anymore. But I know she liked it when I was being controlled by her, my pleasure, my pain completely in her hands. Rarely did she get herself off when she was in one of those moods, focusing completely on me. Maybe there was a part of her that still loved me and wanted me to feel pleasure and love from her, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. Wanda was a cruel woman, and whatever her reasons were to do what she did were purely selfish, whether or not I knew what she was getting out of it.

She turned her back on me and began walking off towards her office when I finally spoke again.

“I’m leaving.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, but kept her back to me.

“I just told you -”

“No, Wanda,” I interrupted her. “I’m leaving you.”

She was silent and I held my breath as the silence between us filled the room. I could almost hear her heavy breaths as she turned to face me, her green eyes dark and filled with rage.

“You’re what?” Her voice was dangerous and low.

“I’m … leaving you.”

Her steely look cracked and she smiled, letting out a cold laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

I gritted my teeth, my jaw clenching as I stared back at her. I didn’t think leaving would be easy, as a matter of fact, I expected her to put up a fight, but I wouldn’t back down.

“Yes I am. I’m going to stay in our old apartment for a while. I know you still rent it, I’m not stupid.”

Hurt flashed across her features and I realized I might have gone too far bringing up our old place. I knew that she kept it because it was the last place she and Pietro lived together, and even though it was vacant, she kept up with utilities and maintenance so it would be in livable condition.

“Fine.” She snarled at me, waving me off. “Go.”

I let out the breath I was holding and watched as she stormed off. Wanda was never one to chase anything, especially in her current position of power, so I knew I wouldn’t be any different. She expected me to come crawling back to her - but I wouldn’t.

I also knew that she would be sending either Dimitri or Leo to stalk me while I spent time away from her. She would never truly let me go, not really.

I got up from the table, pushing my seat out and rushing off towards our shared room. Despite how tense and angry we both became, we stayed near each other, sleeping together, even making love, if you could call it that.

I made it to our room, throwing together my clothes and finding a suitcase in one of the closets, I got ready to leave. I knew that I didn’t really want to leave her. I just wanted her to need me, to miss me, to love me. But she never would. Never again.

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I packed, stuffing everything in the suitcase haphazardly, just wanting to get out of there. This house was no longer a home, it was hell.

I rushed down the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me and approached the front doors, where Leo was already waiting. With a defeated sigh, I nodded and he took my bag, leading me out to the car that was already ready to go. She was predictable.

I sat in silence as Leo drove us back to the old neighborhood, tears still flowing freely as we made our way there. The drive was quick, maybe forty minutes with no traffic, and I couldn’t wait to get inside the apartment and just sleep. We parked out front and Leo took my suitcase out of the trunk, lugging it up the stairs after me. When we made it to the front door, I realized I didn’t have the key to get in, so I stepped aside and, surprise surprise, Leo had it. We entered wordlessly, and I was damn near speechless at the sight of the place. It was like it had been frozen in time. All of Pietro’s things were still here, untouched, and even some of our old things were here.

“Wanda …” Leo started as he placed the suitcase down on the ground near the couch. “She really does care about you, you know.”

I sighed sadly, knowing that if Leo could see it, it must’ve been obvious. But clearly not obvious enough to Wanda herself.

“Yeah,” I sniffled, walking over to the fridge and seeing that it was completely empty. “Guess we gotta go get some food.”

“I’ll go.” He said, making his way towards the door. “She, uh, gave me a list of things you like.”

My heart fluttered at his words. She had really done that? Of course she had. Control freak Wanda. I sighed and nodded at his words, watching wordlessly as he left. I grabbed the suitcase from beside the couch and dragged it into our old bedroom. I was hit with memories as I entered the room, the familiar smell of us flooding my senses. I brought the suitcase to the closet and started unpacking.

After a few moments of putting my shirts on hangers, I heard the front door creak open.

“What happened, Leo? You forget something?” No response.

Odd. I placed whatever clothing I had in my hand back into the suitcase and went back into the living room, noting the now closed door and the slight chill indicating that the door had indeed been opened recently.

“I finally got you alone.”

I spun around, clutching at my chest as I faced the intruder in my apartment.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That isn’t very polite of you.” The blonde woman said, a smile on her face as she sat on my couch.

I looked around frantically, looking for a weapon of any kind to defend myself with. She must’ve picked up on this because as I launched myself at a nearby cabinet, she was on top of me, pinning me between her and the wooden cabinets behind me.

“What do you want?” I asked helplessly, wishing that I hadn’t left Wanda after all.

“First of all, I want you to calm down. I’m not going to hurt you, dekta.”

“Don’t call me that.” I snapped at her and she smiled.

“You’re feisty. I like that. I can see what she sees in you.”

I wriggled in her embrace and she let out a laugh, pressing herself against me.

“You’re getting me excited.”

“Get the fuck off of me!”

She grabbed me by my face and held me still, looking me over briefly before speaking again.

“Relax. I’m a friend of Wanda’s.” At her words, I tensed up.

“You’re lying.” I cried, trying to free myself from her grasp. “Wanda doesn’t have any friends.” I whispered, mostly to myself, and she smiled.

“You’re right. But, she has you.” She brought her face close to mine, our noses almost touching. “Or, she had you.”

“Let me go!” I yelled, trying my hardest to free myself from her iron grasp.

Her hand gripped at my face tighter, and she pressed her weight down against me further, and I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“What do you want?” I asked again, her deep, darkened eyes staring back into mine.

“What do you think I want?”

“I don’t know!” I cried, my eyes shifting towards the door, hoping against hope that Leo would show up.

“Are you waiting for someone? Your guard dog, perhaps?”

My heart stopped at her words. Had something happened to Leo because of me?

“He’s been … detained.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Nothing - yet. Nothing if you agree to come with me quietly.”

“W-what? Why?”

She grit her teeth, her jaw clenching in frustration.

“You ask a lot of questions, little one. I promise all your questions will be answered, as long as you come with me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and thought for a second. She knew about Wanda and Leo, and I wasn’t dead, so who could she be? Was she working for someone Wanda knew? Was she -?

“I see those wheels turning in your head. Let’s do it this way then.” She huffed. “If you don’t come with me, I’ll slice your guard dog’s throat wide open and send his eyeballs to your mistress.” My eyes widened at her words. “Then, I’ll visit her personally and -”

“No!” I cried. I’d do anything to protect Wanda, even though I was sure if she could get close enough to Wanda to kill her, she would’ve done it already.

“Then you’ll come.”

I swallowed roughly and she smiled, seeing my resistance fade.

“It’s for the best. I really like this outfit - wouldn’t want to ruin it with Sokovian blood.”

•

@marvelogic @casquinhaa @mathxa @oh-thats-cute @ornorr @milkeeteaa @souanick

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! Thank you for all the amazing writing you do!!! My humble request is of a reader who brings Jamie to meet her family and he’s appalled that someone so kind and gentle is treated w such lack of love/respect (ex: first comment out of her granddad’s mouth is sm about her weight/job/look/etc) and it puts a lot of things about her into perspective. At some point he can’t take it anymore and defends her and then vows to her that he will undo all of that pain and will prove to her she is worthy of all the love:) sorry it’s a long one (got lots of personal experience lol) so no worries if u can’t but it would mean the world thank you!!!

Hi cutie! Here you go! I’m sorry that you have personal experience with this, families can suck sometimes. It’s definitely from Jamie’s POV, so keep that in mind😅 Boy’s a rambler.

stuck by you

Jamie sure knows how to pick them.

No really, he does. He’s always had stellar taste in girlfriends, except usually they have shit taste in men.

It’s different this time, he swears. Keeley swears, too. Swears she’ll break every bone in his body if he so much as looks at you funny, and Jamie… well, Jamie’s not actually terrified of Keeley, just respectful, like.

So he’s going to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up because you’re funny and gorgeous and brilliant and he's also those things, so you’re like a power couple. And when you beg- no, ask, because you only have to ask once- him to come with you for a family event, he says yes without a second thought. 

It’s off-season, but he’d do it in-season in a heartbeat (just with a bit of fear because Ted’s alright, but he’s a little gun-shy since the whole ‘practice’ thing).

It’s also fucking BOILING, so he’s going to wear his least-slutty shorts (it’s a family event) and a shirt that is not see-through. 

He’s not going to fuck this up, not with how sweet you are, how generous, how-

A football hits the side of his head, and he’s brought out of his thoughts. 

“You’re daydreaming, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice. “What’s the point of a friendly if you can’t even pay attention?”

Jamie gives himself a shake, and he’s firmly in the present. He’s at the mid-off-season-Richmond-party or whatever, and football is a mandatory affair. He makes the mistake of glancing to where you’re standing under a tree in Colin’s backyard and fuck you’re sneaking sweets to the few kids who are flitting around the grass. Fucking Declan and his adorable children. You catch his eye and give him a little wave, and his heart jumps like he’s in primary school and not a world-renowned Premier League athlete. 

Yeah, he’s good and fucked. 

He makes a mental note to get you into bed tonight, he’s pretty sure it won’t be too difficult, but he’s going to have to convince you to leave early. But can you blame him?

(No, no you fucking can’t.)

—

Jamie isn’t nervous to meet your family. Seriously, he isn’t. It’s your family and a) he’s fucking greatwith families and b) he’s fucking great with you. He rocks up with you on his arm, and he’s already making plans for the sundress you’ve got on, mainly how to get in on the floor once you go home. 

You’re both looking fucking fit. Jamie hopes a little bit that someone sneaks a picture of you two and it ends up in the press because this look CANNOT be wasted. 

He almost misses the way your grip tightens as you walk up the steps. He tilts his head in your direction, assessing your expression. 

“You okay?” he asks and receives a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yup,” you reply. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Not the response Jamie was expecting, but he’ll roll with it. You push open the door and walk into the family room and the first thing out of your granddad’s mouth is, “Oh, there she is! Bold of you to wear that dress with the way you’ve been eating, my dear,” and Jamie half-expects you to say something. 

Or for someone to say something. 

Except no one does, they just carry on, and an aunt comes up to you to make a snide comment about your job. 

“You absolutely must be struggling financially dear, but aren’t we all? I just wish I could screw a footballer and have my rent paid.”

She’s gone before Jamie can say anything, and he only needs one look at your face to understand exactly what’s going on. 

You’re not sweet and kind because your family is sweet and kind. Oh no. 

You’re the way you are out of sheer willpower, out of spite; kindness born the way of a weed in concrete. Out of a refusal to die. A decision to be different. 

And it pisses Jamie off. 

He squeezes your hand once, twice, in reassurance, letting you lead him to your parents. He recognizes them from pictures and still retains a vague hope that they’ll be like you. 

Vain, vague hope, but still. 

He catches the way your mum’s lips tighten into a line at your approach, and the way your dad barely suppresses a scoff. 

“Oh look,” your mum says without an ounce of inflection, “you’re here. That’s wonderful.”

“Good to see you mum, dad,” you say with more grace than Jamie would have if the roles were reversed. Your dad holds out his hand to shake yours, barely acknowledging Jamie. Jamie opens his mouth to say something but you clock it, and shoot him a warning glance. 

He freezes and meets your gaze. You shake your head almost imperceptibly and mouth don’t and he almost ignores you, but you’re begging him with your eyes and he swore you’d never have to beg him for anything. 

So he turns away and doesn’t say anything, because he won’t be responsible for breaking you today. 

And it’s just… like that. All day. It’s relentless and he feels powerless to do a single thing except watch as you refuse to let your armor crack, barely letting it dent the surface. 

How did he not know?

It comes to a head when your cousin (a banking twat who Jamie’s certain had a shriveled dick) manages to comment on your weight, (supposed lack of) beauty, and finances in one fell swoop. 

And that’s it. Jamie’s done. 

They want to be pricks? Well, Roy’s been calling him the Prince Prick of all Pricks for fucking years, so let’s fucking go then. 

“Fuck you, you giant limp-dicked twat,” he says with a smile on his face. You freeze, and so does your cousin. 

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said,” Jamie repeats loudly, taking a step closer, “fuck you, you giant. Limp-dicked. Twat.” He punctuates each word with a poke to this arsehole’s chest and fuck, does it feel great. 

He loves you, he’ll respect your wishes moving forward, but he’ll be FUCKED if he lets your family’s behavior continue. What would mummy say?

The entire room has gone silent, and you’ve gone pale. 

But Jamie, Jamie loves an audience. 

“Fuck you all, actually,” he sing-songs, and there are audible gasps. 

Jamie doesn’t give a shit. “You’re all fucking arseholes to my girl, who, by the way, is the fucking best, except you’re all too fucking busy taking shots at her to notice. Don’t know what the fuck she did to all of you, but you can all piss off with that. We’re fucking leaving.” He grabs your hands and pulls you toward the door. 

It’s not like you need much prompting, you’ve been counting down the minutes since you walked in the door. 

“Oh,” he says turning around one last time. “Don’t bother calling. Or writing, or whatever you old twats do, unless it’s an apology for however fucking long you’ve been this shitty. I’ve only got one shit parent, can’t imagine the hell it’s been having two.”

And with that, he ushers you out the door. 

“Jamie,” you gasp as soon as it shuts behind you. “What was that? What were you thinking?”

There’s a strange tightness to your voice, one Jamie’s having trouble placing. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that the sun is setting and it’s tingeing your skin with gold. 

Either way, it’s starting to get to him. “Dunno,” he says with a trace of belligerence. 

You gape at him for a moment before saying, “Can we get in the car, please?”

Jamie says, “Yeah,” and then helps you in, suddenly aware of every bone in his body. 

He swore he wasn’t going to fuck it, and he did. Christ, Keeley’s going to skin him alive. 

He drives in silence the whole way home. You’re just staring straight ahead, and he can tell you’re still processing. Still replaying. You’re better than any VAR, that’s for sure. 

“Jamie,” you say slowly once he’s parked in the driveway. You’ve unbuckled, but you’re still in your seat. “Why did you say all of that?”

Jamie says again, “Dunno,” but you don’t believe him. 

“Why?” you ask again, voice cracking. “It’s not worth it, I’m not worth it.”

And just like that, Jamie understands. 

“You are,” he replies forcefully, except that just makes you cry. 

(He’s pretty sure they’re good tears, though, so he tests it by reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, which is a good sign.)

“You are worth it,” he says again, in case you didn’t get it the first time. “Shit family’s… it’s shit, babe. I get it, I really fucking do. I’m sorry about them, I really am. And I’m sorry about me, too. Didn’t mean to say ‘fuck’ so many times, suppose I’m around Roy too much.”

That succeeds in lightening the mood, and you smile ever so slightly. 

He says, “They don’t deserve you,” which just makes you laugh. 

“I know,” you reply. “I just always wanted them to be a good family.”

Jamie hesitates. He knows what you mean. 

Finally he says, “People don’t change like that, love. It’s almost- hardwired into them. They get fucking stuck and you can’t change them, no matter what you do. Sometimes you just gotta let them go.”

You nod and take a deep breath. Easier said than done, you suppose. 

Jamie cups your cheek. “I’m with you, babe. It’s you, me, and whatever family we can put together. We’ll put in the work, yeah? Be different.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “we’ll be different.”

[shayberri789]

My theory on the NtN ending:

Cassiopeia wasn't the only one to betray Jod thousands of years ago. She wasn't the only one to see that what Jod was doing was wrong and put plans in place to deal with it.

Anastasia the first almost had perfect lyctorhood and watched her God kill her cavalier in front of her so she couldn't do it. Maybe she really would have died. Maybe she would have gone the paul route. Maybe she would have survived and Samael would still be around. But he was killed in front of her and she had no say in it.

Alecto was odd, and a little dangerous, but she's the soul of the earth and if Jod could kill the most important person to Anastasia of course he could kill the thing who loved humanity so much she gave them power over life and death.

And when the Lyctors were convincing him to kill his pet revenent beast, the pin point of his greatest sin and a being in constant pain and hurt, maybe Anastasia, the one left behind, the one maybe magicked to silence through a sewn tongue, cursed jaw, felt sympathy and kinship with Alecto. Maybe she knew Jod would never truly kill Alecto. Maybe she was the first person in hundreds if not thousands and millions of years to look at Alecto with compassion and actually say "I will help you if only you tell me how". Maybe she made a promise to protect Alecto, maybe she made a promise to look after her while she sleeps. Maybe she made a promise that one day she'd come and wake Alecto up and they'd solve things together. Maybe one day they can undo what John did and maybe Alecto can have peace, finally, one day. And maybe Alecto swore that for the debt of waking her again she would do anything for Anastasia, any one thing, if Anastasia woke her up in a time when things could change.

But by the time Anastasia, frail with her necromancer build and squirreled away at the edge of the solar system, started reaching old age she realized it was too soon to wake her up. Too soon to send her into the lyctor viper pit again, not while Anastasia was so weak. So she tasks her daughter with guarding the tomb. "This door must stay shut until the day comes when the emperor must die" she says, and her daughter repeats this to her son, and so on and so forth until the body in the locked tomb becomes Armageddon. Not locked away for her own protection, not awaiting the day for the tomb keeper to wake her up and try again, not awaiting the day when the nine houses get to restart. No, she's the greatest enemy of god, she must be locked away lest she start Armageddon, locked away for the protection of the emperor and their duties to her tomb an icon for devotion.

But the bloodwards hold for 10000 years and one day the curse of silence will be lifted from the jaw of the ninth house tomb keeper, and the oath to Alecto is preserved in the Anastasian bloodline. And the daughter of the tomb keeper has awakened the monster once again

[elaina-writes-things]

Hi I have a lucifer 18+request if you’re still on the high. You can make it a dable or headcanons. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.

You’re sitting on the couch reading a 🌶️ book and Lucifer crawls between your legs and tells you to keer reading as he eats you out.

I was gonna take it seriously, I swear. But I just really think Lucifer would act like this, and now here we are.

The content below is NSFW/18+ !!!

--

You loved to read when you were alive. Every home you lived in always had at least one, large bookshelf dedicated to your collection, and that didn't change after your death. You were thankful that, even eternally damned, there were simple pleasures to indulge in, and everyone who knew you could bet on finding you with your nose in a book if they needed your attention.

That was how Lucifer met you. It was also how he found you, waiting outside a restaurant for your first date. And how he found you the morning after you spent your first night together. And...well, you get it.

"If I didn't know any better," the seraphim complained, crawling into bed to settle next to you for the evening, "I'd say you liked spending more time with your books than little old me."

You slipped a bookmark between the pages of your current piece of literature, resting it in your lap, and gave him a sheepish smile.

"I adore you," you promised him, "I just love how wonderful these books are, too. Every turn of the page sweeps me away to an adventure of the mind. I can place myself in the protagonist's shoes from the comfort of my home! I can almost feel every struggle they endure. Every fight, every triumph, every kiss, every —"

"Kiss?" Lucifer perked up, and before you got the chance to respond, he'd snatched up your book and was flicking through the pages. "Ohohoo, my dearest, why didn't you tell me you were reading such salacious things? If you're looking to experience pleasure, by all means, you just need to ask."

Suddenly, the book was thrust back into your hands, and you stiffened as the blonde straddled you.

"Uh, what are you doing?" You asked, cheeks burning.

"Read to me, dove," Lucifer grinned, eyes alight the same way they did when he came up with a new duck-based innovation. "You want to live vicariously through your books? I can give that to you. So, read."

You glanced at the page Lucifer had flipped to and felt like you were going to catch fire. He'd chosen a scene in which the heroine of the book had stolen away with her appointed knight for an evening of passion before she was forced to marry the prince from a rival kingdom.

"Oh, I don't know," you muttered, "this is really — ah!"

Lucifer was still wearing that smarmy little grin as he pulled on your hips, dragging your body towards his, and started undoing the buttons on your pants. Cheeky fucker didn't even have to look, he was just popping them open with a flick of his fingers.

"Go on," he encouraged, settling himself comfortably between your legs after he pulled the fabric down. "Don't tell me you're getting stage fright? Show me what kinds of stories you indulge in so voraciously, darling."

You hid your face between the pages of your book, which only forced you to stare at the words he demanded you recite. When you tried to squirm away from him, only to have two deceptively powerful hands press you firmly to the mattress, you knew there was no getting out of this.

"Finally," the princess sighed, "alone at last, my dear. I am all yours tonight."

"Tonight. This night," said the knight, "but it could be every night...run away with me, princess."

"I want nothing more, beloved," she proclaimed, "but I have responsibilities to my kingdom. This marriage will forge an alliance that will help us for future generations."

The knight's face twisted in pain for only a moment, before it morphed into a calmness as cold as his armor.

"Then tonight, on this night, I'll make it one that you'll never forget."

"How many times can they fit the word 'night' into one chapter," Lucifer muttered, placing a small kiss on your knee. "Skip ahead a couple paragraphs. Get us to the fun part, my dove."

You resisted the urge to close your legs, knowing it would be a fruitless effort with how hungry his majesty looked, and flipped to the next page.

Princess Calliope carefully gathered up her skirts, the soft fabric brushing against her even softer legs. Xander, her knight, knelt in front of her and trailed one gauntlet gently up her calf —

"With his armor on!? There's no way that would feel good for her."

"I mean, he's gonna take it off eventually."

"Skip another couple paragraphs."

The princess shivered under Xander's touch. His large, broad hands squeezing her thighs pulled a gasp from delicately parted lips, and she had to fight not to cover herself as she lay bare to him.

"There are many ways to prepare your body for mine, princess," Xander murmured, "but this one is my favorite."

He lowered his head and placed a series of kisses on each of her thighs, trailing closer and closer to her hot core.

Calliope whimpered when her faithful knight's lips reached her flower. He kissed each side reverently, then used his tongue to part the p-petals, licking a firm st-stripe up the length...o-of...

Your reading stuttered when Lucifer's actions began to mimic Xander's. Now that his commentary wasn't cutting in every thirty seconds, the written experience being actively performed on you was much more erotic than you anticipated, and you reminded yourself to thank him for that little idea later.

"Keep reading," the blonde requested. You bit your lip and tried to ignore his warm breaths on your pussy. The words on the page were suddenly much harder to read.

He kissed each side reverently, then used his tongue to part the petals, licking a firm stripe up the length of her sex until he reached the little, pink bud at the top. Xander kissed it, d-delighting in the squeal he pulled from his beloved, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked g-g-gently while his fing-fingers circled her entrance.

Calliope felt like she was on fire. Her body responded to Xander's in a way she'd never known until tonight. It's like she was a violin, and he was the musician plucking every single one of her strings.

"Why is he plucking violin strings? Is he stupid?"

You groaned, now thoroughly turned on but annoyed by your partner's continuous interruptions.

"I'm just saying that's not how you play a —"

"Do you wanna eat me out like the bitch in the book or not!?"

The short king's red eyes widened, then his expression became unbearably smug. You resisted the urge to toss a pillow at his head.

"Look at you, playing hard to get at the beginning and now practically begging me to get lost between your thighs. I knew this would be fun for you. Maybe if you beg a little more, I'll —"

Pillows were too soft. You threw the book at him instead, relishing in his cry and the thunk that emanated from the collision.

"Next time you wanna do something fun, Luci," you said, getting up and kissing the blooming injury on his forehead, "don't criticize it start to finish."

"I'd argue there wasn't a finish," he pouted, wrapping his arms around you for a snuggle before you could pull away.

"Who's fault is that?"

"I'll make it up to you," Lucifer promised. "Anything you want, you name it."

That piqued your interest, a smug little grin of your own starting to form.

"Anything?"

He nodded excitedly. "Tell me what I can do for you, love. How will I make your dreams come true?"

"You."

"Me?" He echoed.

"And me."

"And you. Me and you," he chirped, practically bouncing as he hugged you tighter.

"And the biggest strap we can find."

What little color existed on his face drained away. Lucifer stared at you, eyes wide and round, then buried his head defeatedly in your shoulder. His blonde hair tickled your jaw, and you placed a gentle kiss to his temple.

"I did promise anything," he mumbled.

[artzysyam]

Writing a snippet for @xysidhequeen AU

Jazz stood in the doorway, watching her brother and his knight cuddled up on the bed. Nox, or Nocturne, Ghost of Sleep and Dreams had managed to give both the King and his Knight some much needed rest. 

She could barely contain her laughter when Danny snuggled closer to Jason's chest while the knight let out a low, rumbling purr, tightening his hold on her brother. Both were in their human forms with almost no ectoplasm intake.

Though Gotham was filled with ambient ectoplasm, both Danny and Jason needed massive amounts of it for their roles as Ghost King and Red Knight. She still remembered their arguments about the Flash Family’s manipulation of time – she was sure that Jason had called them ‘Fucking Speedsters pretending to be Fucking Timelords’ at least once.

Jason brought light into Danny's life, he made her brother live again and their love for one other is so obvious that even the densest sentient beings can see. But... with love comes fear, as she remembered one time where she Jason gazing on his phone, the pictures of him, her and her brother, Sam, Tucker and ghosts who he met and friends with to this day. She observed as Jason leaned his forehead to his phone, silently crying and mumbling a vow to protect them and fight whoever dare to take him from them ever again. Jazz deduced that he had a fear of abandonment and rejection, with his trauma of his death by Joker, combined with his upbringing as the street rat and Wayne family.

No matter how much Jazz and other people in his afterlife, nothing can undo the trauma of Batman failed to save Jason, his upbringing as the second Robin and replacing him with another Robin, seven months after his death.

Meanwhile, her brother, don't like to abuse his power to make Jason fall in love with him, but the two and half years, Jason shows his affection in his own way. Making sure Danny have decent hours of sleep, administrate first aid whenever he roughhousing with other ghosts or each other, cook a grand feast or make a smoothie with ectoplasm mixed in. Jazz want to shake her brother out of his head and see the little things his knight done to show his affection towards her baby brother.

Till then, she stood at the sidelines, watching them cuddling with warm and safety that they're created together.

[thebisexualdogdad]

37. A is usually reserved when it comes to intimacy and emotions. When in public, B does something that breaks A. A pulls B close and whispers to them, "I need you now."

A is Nico Robin and B is Reader. (male.)

I need you now - Nico Robin x Male!reader

Robin wasn't exactly too keen about showing intimacy in public especially around the rest of your crew, your relationship was between you and her not them but it had been two weeks out at sea with absolutely no privacy and she had needs that weren't being met.

“We should be reaching the next island by tonight,” Nami says looking over her map.

“Finally, we've been stuck on this ship for way too long,” Zoro huffs.

“And we are almost out of food!” Luffy shouts.

“Don't worry Luffy we've got enough food to get us through a few more days,” Sanji says.

You lean in and whisper to your girlfriend, “I hope this island has somewhere we can be alone, you look divine in this outfit and I'm dying to get my hands on you.”

Robin gulps, trying to shake the inappropriate thoughts of you she's been having for days.

You notice how she tenses so you put your hand on her waist, “you okay babe?”

She's hit her breaking point, taking your hand and guiding you towards the cabin door.

“Where are you guys going?” Usopp questions.

“Library, don't bother us,” Robin mutters.

You reach the ship's library and she pushes you to lay down onto the couch, using her powers to make a hand appear at the door and locking it.

“I need you now,” she says, climbing on you and kissing you desperately.

Her hands go to open your shirt, running them over your stomach while your hands instinctively go to her ass as she grinds against your thigh, looking for any contact she could get.

“Two weeks is way too long without you touching me,” she mumbles into the kiss.

“Then let me touch you,” you smirk, moving a hand around to cup her through her shorts.

She moans loudly, not caring if anyone up on the deck could hear her because she was finally feeling some sort of release.

“Please don't tease,” she groans.

You're happy to oblige to her begging so you unbutton her shorts and allowing your hand to slip inside, Robin moaning again when you touch her directly.

“God I love that sound,” you say, kissing down her neck.

She's getting wetter by the second, hips stuttering when you rub her clit.

Her chest is right in your line of sight so with your free hand you undo the buttons of her shirt to bare her breasts on full display for you.

“Y/N,” she cries when you take one of her nipples between your lips.

Her hips are bucking into your hand so you plunge a finger into her when you switch to her other nipple.

She feels your bulge pressing into her thigh which makes her groan as a second finger enters her.

Your tongue swirls around her nipple before tugging on it with your teeth, your fingers working her the best they can with the restriction of her shorts.

She's getting closer to the edge, about to feel a sweet release but then suddenly your hand disappears.

“Y/N,” she grunts in frustration but you just laugh, flipping her over so she's sitting upright on the couch as you quickly rid her of her shorts.

“I'm gonna make you cum so hard every ship in this ocean can hear you screaming my name,” you grin, getting yourself in a sturdy position with your feet planted on the floor.

Robin runs her hands over her breasts, playing with her hard nipples as you get your pants down around your knees, your erect cock springing against your stomach.

“My love, please fuck me,” she pleads, her legs spread open and her pussy dripping wet.

You raise her hips slightly so you can line up with her entrance and ease yourself inside.

“You feel so good,” she moans as you start to find a steady rhythm of your thrusting hips causing her eyes to roll back.

You watch intently as she continues to play with her breasts, the look of pleasure on her face something that would burn into your mind forever.

“I swear you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen Robin,” you tell her.

“Faster Y/N, I'm so close,” she cries so you thrust your hips faster, hitting just the right spot.

“Cum for me Robin,” you say, taking hold of her waist and fucking her senseless.

She does indeed scream your name when she hits her climax about a minute later, her whole body trembling as she rides it out.

Robin loved when you finished on her chest so once her orgasm is over you hastily pull out of her, stroking yourself until you're cumming all over her breasts.

She smiles, listening to the soft gasps you make as you coat her chest in cum.

You take a moment to collect yourselves, Robin's chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.

“You really couldn't wait till we reached the island could you?” You tease.

“We need to get a bigger ship so we can have our own bedroom,” she laughs.

“What if we converted the library into our bedroom? Replace the couch with a bed? This is where you spend most of your time anyways,” you chuckle.

“Why didn't we think of that earlier,” she says, smiling when you lean down to kiss her.

[adventuringblind]

Butterflies on You Skin

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: angst and hurt/comfort

Request: No, this is entirely self indulgent

Summary: Sometimes, the coping mechanisms we create aren't the ones we need...

Warnings: graphic images if SH

Notes: I do not in any way condone SH. I used to read fics like this when I was going through it and it helped. Like somehow reading about fictional me doing it and then getting help allowed he to have those same sensations. My point being that I am struggling at the time I'm writing this and I'm determined to stay clean (almost two years!). This helps me and I hope it helps someone else out there too. Remeber you're not alone ❤️

Masterlist

People don't understand that pain can become addicting. When you've been through so much of it, all of it not by choice, choosing the pain feels like a release.

She knows it's wrong. She knows there are better ways of dealing with things. But she can't see to stop herself.

It's her way of reminding herself she has power and control. She picks where the knife goes and how deep it cuts into her skin. She chooses when and where it happens.

It was something she needed and relied on for so long. Until she met Oscar.

They were teenagers when they met. Some birthday party for a mutual friend. Both of them left feeling out of place, so they gravitated towards each other.

Phone numbers were exchanged.

They spent far too much time talking to each other. She felt that he kept her down to earth. That no matter the bad things that happened, he would be there. Even replacing the knife occasionally.

He found her intriguing. Her perspectives on life and her dreams for the future. Her head had a tendency to get stuck in the clouds, but he didn't mind. He likes listening to her talk.

When they both graduate, he invites her to his races. Watching him felt fulfilling in a way, and she likes the traveling.

Yet when she's alone. Her head is sending her to places she can't come back from. When she needs the sting she's come to crave, she's spending the night with her knife.

When Oscar finishes his f2 career and becomes the third driver for Alpine, he ends up confessing his feelings for her. Something she's been wanting to do for years but never could.

A week later, he's kissing her. Her heads find the clouds easily after that. Something about his presence and how he is so genuine clears away the hurricane that is her thoughts.

Being a third driver means Oscar does have a bit more free time. He gets to go home to see her more often. Something she's not used to.

The Australian gets home late one night. He comes in quietly since he figures she's already asleep.

Oh, how terribly wrong he is.

She'd had a fight with her family earlier that day. Her parents have never been good at communication, and they still claim they gave her a better life than what they had. Which is true, she thinks.

She has no reason to be sad.

Another reason to draw the sharp edge across her skin. Another thin red line to add to the ever growing tally.

Oscar sees the bathroom door closed and the light turned on. He hears the clatter next. He presses his ear to the door. Debating whether to make his presence known or if that would scare her more than if he waited.

The hiss of pain is what gets him. "Love? Are you alright?" All movement on the other side stops. Then the clatter again.

She hates when she gets sloppy. She knows she's gone too far, and Kscar wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

She stares down at the crimson colored lines. The contents of the wounds coat her skin at dripping to the floor.

"Love? Please answer."

But she can't answer. what is she supposed to say? That her unhealthy coping mechanism is finally becoming her undoing. The she's tried to stop but the sensation is something she's learned to crave?

Oscar tried the handle. Received to find it unlocked. He opens just a small crack. He's never been one to invade her privacy.

The look of pain in his eyes makes her sob. He dosent move when he sees her. His mind trying to register what he's seeing.

How had he never noticed until now?

He can tell she’s panicking. He gently moves himself to the floor, grabbing a towel as he goes. He doesn’t say anything, just gently start to clean her up.

When he’s successfully disinfected the wounds and has bandages them up, he lead her into their room.

“I know it’s hard, but we have to talk about it.”

She just shakes her head in response. He deserves an explanation. Really, he deserves someone better.

She just tells him everything. Basks in the gentleness of his voice and warmth of his touch as she does so.

~

She was expecting him to leave. Her mind convinced she was unlovable in her state. After all, who could fall in love with someone who crave the sting of a knife?

But she was wrong.

Oscar was somehow filled with a new sense of purpose and they found themselves working together to help her pull through to the other side. A reminder that she is far from alone.

He’s quick to find a way to help her and when he does it feels almost magical.

The butterfly project. The goal is to not kill the butterflies.

They start small. She puts the butterfly on her hand. Just a simple doodle.

It doesn’t last long and she’s crying over the fact she killed it.

The next time around there are two butterflies. One on her and one in Oscar. His drawing take much more time. His deliberate design giving her more motivation to not ruin it.

It’s gone in two weeks and she relapses that day. Yet the fact she made it that far was an accomplishment.

Soon the butterflies are everywhere. Both their arms covered.

It became something she did when she was bored. Her hands drawing the bugs in every open surface.

It was difficult and she slipped but she was getting better.

Oscar was so incredibly proud of her. He got asked frequently about the creatures that littered his skin. He just said he liked them and so does his girlfriend.

When Oscar started with McLaren, Lando noticed them immediately. “If you ever need to talk I’m here if you want.” Oscar shoots him a confused look before remembering the lovely blue butterfly colored in with Sharpie placed in the middle of his forearm.

So she's made it to a year. Sure, she's slipped here and there, but it's nothing like it used to be. It's something to celebrate.

Oscar spends the entire day with her. Praising her acomplishment and reminding her how proud he is if her and how proud she should be of herself.

She is proud. It's something she never thought she could do. Not on her own, at least.

It's Oscar that helped her through and the butterflies in her skin.

Now she's has a permanent one. A reminder she came through to the other side. A reminder that she is not alone. Most importantly, a reminder she's loved.

~

Remember you're not alone.

This was somewhat based on a true story. Here's my reminder to myself every day that I'm not done yet, and neither are you. Keep fighting loves ❤️

[keigosstarlight]

Pairing: Dabi x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFW/18+, kidnapping, captive darling, noncon & dubcon, BJ, head pushing/guiding, mind break(?) (reader is sympathetic after a bit), praise & degradation, calling reader "pet," reader calls Dabi "Touya," burning, punishments.

Wordcount: <1000 (700+)

Summary: A.U. where Dabi kidnaps you after he's killed Endeavor.

A/N: This is the first fanfic that I've ever shared. 🫣 I also don't write a lot anymore, so I'm hoping it's decent enough. This was originally a fem reader, but I wanted to be more inclusive, so apologies if I missed anything! I read this like eight times, but shit happens. My brain is fried and I wrote this in like an hour.

You resisted when Dabi kidnapped you, but after that first night when he punished you, you decided it wasn’t worth it. He had fucked you senseless, face buried the mattress as your tears stained the sheets. The fading burn on your hip is a constant reminder how he held you despite your pleas, the stinging sensation of the flesh now numb in your memories since your brain forcibly detached. The events are fuzzy at best and completely hidden at worst.

Besides, he treats you well enough, rewarding your obedience with some new clothes that you were sure were more for his eyes than your own happiness, your own toiletries, and a cute little collar with a “T” on it. Of course, if he takes you anywhere, they have to know you belong to someone. He even gave you your own bedroom to retreat to. Sure, he barged in sometimes and invited himself to your bed, but his heat was a comfort now. When you woke up to his palm pressed to your stomach as he held you close, it was almost enough to make you forget.

Every day, you watched the news with him while they replayed his video, time and time again. You heard the details of how his father abandoned him, that his father only married his mother for what her quirk could provide - every single day. After so long of hearing about that abuse, of seeing the anger in his face every time the number one hero showed up, one day you felt you couldn’t be mad at him anymore. Despite Endeavor being dead now, it wasn’t enough to soothe that fire in his heart. You felt sympathy for his broken childhood.

You hated it, and yet, for some reason, the way he looks at you makes your heart skip today.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Touya?"

Dabi gives a teasing smirk, his gaze still glued to your body as he replies, "Because I can, sweetheart. Is there an issue?"

"No." 

You’re so confused, but you can’t deny how badly you want him. You fight the urge to move closer, but as hard as you wrestle with it, you give in, scooting inch by inch closer to him on the sofa until your hand comes to rest on his cheek. Your thighs brush together, the warmth is all so familiar.

"I've missed your touch, Touya."

Surprise flashes in his eyes at the affection, but this is what he’s wanted since he claimed you, so he's not questioning a damn thing.

"Good pet, I knew you'd like it." he praises with a smile.

He caresses your cheek as he looks at you with a lustful grin, his touch becoming more daring as he slides his other hand to your inner thigh.

"Now, I want you to make me feel good, and I think you know how."

Your breath hitches as you bite your lip anxiously, but your response is immediate.

"Yes, Touya."

The verbal obedience is enough to make his dick twitch, but when your hands come to help him undo his belt and pants, that's when he knows he’s got you right where he wants you; completely and utterly his - body, mind, and soul. There was no need for restraints, no need for force, to manipulate your body how he wanted. As much as he loved having that power over you, hearing you choke on his cock while you rested your pretty hand on his thigh instead of pushing away screaming was so much better. 

Muffled noises of your pleasure vibrate around his dick as he toys with your nipples, earning a hum of approval from your captor. Your sweet tongue swirling around the head of his cock makes his eyes roll back. He places a hand to the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down as he lets out sighs of bliss. His attention is locked on you while you take every inch of him, pubes tickling your face, his scent filling your nose as you gag for a moment before he lets you back up.

"Good fuckin' pet." He grunts, head rolled back on the couch’s back.

He fucks your mouth at a steady pace, hips thrusting upwards as your mouth slides over him. Once, twice, three times, he spurts down your throat and you swallow every drop of the salty cum with a slight cringe. Though you’re much more willing now, it doesn't make the taste any better. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, shifting on your knees as you look up at him panting softly as you catch your breath. His eyes flutter, his palm reaching to caress your cheek, a smirk coming over his face.

“So obedient, so submissive. You finally know your place.”

[little-diable]

Punishment - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

Requested by anon, I hope this is what you had in mind! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Aaron punishes the reader, overstimulating her till she can only cry his name.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f), dom!Aaron, degrading, belittling, punishment, overstimulation, ends with some aftercare

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (1.7k words)

“Look at me.” Anger dripped from his voice, hand squeezing her chin all too tightly. She was trembling, though not in fright, no, something else was thumping through her veins, something that left her burning from inside out. Her heart was racing in her chest, eyes not daring to stray from Aaron’s dark ones. 

“The next time you ignore my commands I’ll do something far worse, do you hear me?” He was close to snapping, still fuelled by the adrenaline of the case, the way he had screamed for her as she had pushed him away, hurling herself in front of Aaron to stop the bullet from piercing into his skin. She hadn’t been hurt, shielded by her vest, and yet the bruise on her stomach told a different story. A story he couldn’t stop focusing on. 

“Yes.” She murmured the word, hoping that he’d finally touch her, that he’d finally stop his teasing and fuck her. This situation was nothing new to the two of them, all too used to the way he’d punish her, and yet this very night had something different to it – Aaron seemed angrier, rougher, no longer caring about the marks he’d leave. He had been scared, fuck, so scared, just the mere thought of losing (y/n) forced tears to well up in his eyes. 

“Yes, what?” (Y/n) heavily gulped as if she had taken a sip just too big to fit down her throat, overestimating herself. A shaky breath was exhaled seconds later, eyes fluttering  shut for just a second, a second Aaron clearly picked up on, tightening his grip on her chin once again. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You went against my order, you humiliated me, just because you felt the need to step in, when you had absolutely no power to.” Aaron gave her a push back, watching (y/n) tumble down onto the uncomfortable mattress of their hotel room. He barely paid any attention to the angry, belittling words he was speaking, distracted by the twitching of his cock, begging him to touch her, needing to feel every part of her. “Undress yourself.” 

(Y/n)’s trembling hands had a hard time undoing the buttons of her blouse, not daring to waste any time when Aaron’s piercing gaze followed her every movement. The cold air lingering in the room like a secret spilled between those that struggled to keep it stroked along her naked body, forcing more goosebumps to arise, torn between excitement, anticipation and the uneasiness simmering inside of her. Tonight she was no longer her own person, made to abide by his every command. 

“Touch yourself.” She wanted to speak up, begging him to touch her himself, but the sharp gaze he shot her managed to shut her up. Slowly she spread her legs for Aaron, eyes hooked on his, hoping that she could catch a few microexpressions tugging on his features – even though her lust drunken state did little to keep her focused. 

Slowly she touched herself, feeling the wetness clinging to her folds, dripping from her as if Aaron had been teasing her for hours on end. Nothing would ever feel as good as Aaron touching her, nothing would ever feel as good as feeling his fingers fucking her through her high, it felt almost unfamiliar to touch herself, no longer used to the soft fingertips of hers, missing his rough fingers against her warm skin. 

Aaron didn’t move once, not when she picked up the movement of her fingers, not when she pushed two fingers inside of her, not when she moaned his name. It seemed as if he wasn’t really in the room with her, at least not mentally, forcing himself to keep his gaze focused on her naked body, on the way she curled her toes, how she stretched her back, she was close already, about to give into the emotions clashing through her. 

“Beg for it, you know the rules.” Her teeth grazed along her lower lip, forcing herself to pick up on the words he wanted to hear, words she had a hard time piercing together. A sob clawed through her, rumbling through (y/n)’s body like a song filling the night. 

“Let me cum, please, I’ll do everything for you, just please.” An almost satisfied hum left Aaron as he nodded his head, allowing her to give in. She kept circling her clit with her fingers while she fucked herself with her other hand, walls squeezing her fingers seconds before her orgasm consumed every part of her body like a wildfire burning her flesh to ash. 

“It would be so easy to follow my orders, but you only seem to listen to me when you benefit from it, you selfish girl.” Deep down both of them knew that Aaron was grateful for the way she had saved him – she was everything but selfish – and yet he found himself guided by his fear, projecting his anxiety through his anger. 

No words left (y/n), not daring to rile him up even further, mind still focused on the orgasm she had just forced through her system. She watched him shrug out of his shirt, eyes wandering with the movements of his hands, trousers falling to the ground. He didn’t warn her as he tilted his head down, hands grasping her thighs to move her closer, mouth connecting with her core. Her body was still holding onto the first orgasm of the night, clit swollen against his tongue, but Aaron didn’t pay her cries any attention, lapping at her folds. 

“Fuck, Aaron, feels so good.” (Y/n)’s raspy voice reverberated through the room, ringing in his ears as if she had never praised him before. Tears ran down her cheeks, body clearly confused by the different sensations flushing through her. Aaron’s rough tongue kept brushing against her clit, knowing how to push her to her limits with only a few touches, not daring to show any sympathy. 

Her body kept trembling in pleasure, teeth drawing blood from her lip, fuck, it had been weeks since he had touched her like this – without any mercy lingering in his system. Aaron clearly enjoyed seeing her overstimulated, eyes set on her features, the tears that kept dripping like rain pouring from the sky, the heat lingering on her skin as if the sun had been shining down on her for hours on end. 

“‘m close,” she couldn’t speak another vowel, sounds stuck in her throat by the feeling of his fingers entering her. He curled them against her swollen spot, pushing her down the edge with a smirk tugging on his lips. Aaron didn’t stop moving his tongue, not parting just yet as a pained whine left her, desperate for a few seconds of relief. “I can’t, fuck, Aaron.”

“What? Weren’t you willing to prove that you’re a big girl? And now you can’t even take this? You’re pathetic, honey.” A sob rolled off her tongue, eyes fluttering shut as he finally let go of her. But the peace didn’t last long enough, eyes forced open once again the second he brushed the tip of his cock through her folds, coating his skin with her arousal before he pushed into her. 

Aaron didn’t give her any time to adjust, pulling out of her only to push right back in, set on a ferocious pace that would make it hard for her to walk the next few days. She desperately wanted to kiss him, needing to feel a few soft touches, but Aaron clearly wasn’t done with his punishment just yet, guided by his anger. 

The sound of their bodies meeting over and over again filled the room, followed by the moans and groans leaving the two. He had his fingernails leaving marks on the flesh of her thighs, legs wrapped around his waist to keep her as close as possible, not daring to let her go. 

Her clit was painfully pulsing, not able to guide her through the highs he was pushing her through. Pain kept filling her, a pain she hadn’t felt in weeks, a pain she somewhat had longed for, enjoying being thrown around by him, needing to feel the roughness of his touches. 

Aaron’s name kept rolling off her tongue, communicating the third orgasm about to clash through her. And he didn’t stop her from giving in, watching her eyes fluttering close, mouth parted into an o-shape to let the moans rumble through her. He kept fucking her, only letting go as her walls loosened their grip on his cock, allowing him to pull out and to release himself on her stomach. 

“Fuck, I can’t feel my legs.” She whispered the words, eyes still closed, too tired to take in her surroundings. His soft chuckles rumbled through him, lips finding hers for a sweet kiss, finally able to let go of his anger, replaced by the endless love he felt for her. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” (Y/n) felt him wipe her stomach clean, making a smile tug on her lips as she murmured a soft “Yes”. Tonight he’ll wrap his arms around her, wordlessly sharing his love as the memories of their case flashed through his mind, keeping him awake for hours on end. And yet he’d use all his strength to take care of her, to make sure that she was okay and that the marks he had left on her body would fade.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

This one guy I talked to on AO3 said that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has already moved on from her death, but I'm not so sure about that. Other people think she should be revived so she can be her own character and not just someone else's sad backstory, and so Adrien has one good parent, of course. What do you think?

I think that it depends on the story you want to tell. There are cases to be made for bringing her back and cases to be made for letting her die. In the context of canon, I find not bringing her back to be fing stupid because it makes everything feel pointless. We obviously don't know the wish yet, but why let Gabe make the wish at all if he's not going to restore Emilie? Making a different wish isn't him being a good guy at the end. It's still him playing god, he's just now using his god powers to abandon his son for no logical reason. What loving father happily leaves his son an orphan???

Yeah, Gabriel saved Nathalie. I don't care. Nathalie chose to use the peacock to support Gabriel in his plan to terrorize Paris. That wasn't some noble sacrifice on her part! She didn't deserve to be saved any more than Gabriel did. Of the three dying/dead parental figures (I really don't know Emilie's status) Emilie is the only one who was never tempted by the dark side if we ignore the uncomfortable implications of how they got the peacock in the first place/Adrien's childhood isolation and just embrace the canon narrative that Emilie was a good and loving mother who was Too Pure For This World.

Meanwhile, Nathalie was a terrible mother figure! She supported Gabriel's awful treatment of Adrien for four seasons and then spent all of season five gently prodding Gabriel to change/tell Adrien the truth while leaving Adrien completely in the dark to everything that was happening. If Gabriel hasn't won, then Adrien would have lost both his father and Nathalie who knew that they were dying, but never gave Adrien a chance to say goodbye because Nathalie never stopped putting Gabriel first in almost every way that mattered. Adrien still doesn't know that he could have been allowed say goodbye to his father because Gabriel's death was entirely predictable.

Along similar lines, I don't think that Nathalie was wrong to undo Gabriel's senticommands, but it is deeply messed up that she was happily doing it in secret and never once considered giving Adrien a chance to consent. A loving parent should find the idea of controlling their child deeply upsetting. She should have been tempted to tell Adrien the truth, especially since she knew that she was dying, but we never see her consider that.

She also does nothing to get Adrien's slave collar away from Gabriel or to stop Gabriel from terrorizing Paris even though we have a scene where she literally pins Gabriel to a table. Her turn to "good" did nothing but maintain the status quo because she continued to support Gabriel in all the ways that truly matter. She never really protects Adrien. She does not deserve to be Adrien's new mother. #BringEmilieBack!!!

All of that is assuming that Gabriel's wish saved Nathalie while sacrificing himself and Emilie. If so, then that is literally the most boring way to go about letting the wish happen. You could have just as easily had Gabriel lose and have Ladybug know a way to save Nathalie via Guardian magic. The end result would have been the same.

If Gabriel had chosen to give up on the wish entirely? Then Emilie not coming back would be a satisfying ending. I personally really like Gabriel being defeated and the heroes then bringing Emilie back. Very much a spite move for me, plus it's a nice way to lessen the sting of Gabriel's defeat. Adrien losing his father, but gaining his mother feels really satisfying to me, especially if Emilie gets to serve Gabriel divorce papers. Got your wish, old man. Now suffer for it.

No matter the case, saying that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has moved on is bad logic as it implies that Emilie is only worth bringing back if Adrien say he wants her back, as if she's a beloved childhood toy that someone broke long ago. It also implies that Adrien wouldn't want her back just because he's accepted her loss. Those are two very different things. Imo, one of the show's failings is the fact that Adrien is denied the right to grieve as if that makes him a better person. A better show would show healthy grief vs unhealthy grief (Adrien vs Gabe). She's been gone less than a year when the story starts. Everyone processes grief different, but that's really fast to move on from the death of a parent.

[iamthecomet]

Kinktober - Day 14 - Uniforms

Uniforms won out my friends. But I promise, boot worship and hate fucking soon. Anyway, you can blame thank (!!!) @miasmaghoul who blessed me not only with the pairing but also the scenario because she has the biggest brain and I love her so. I hope I've done your vision of this justice. 1.2k words of Cumulus/Aeon uniform kink and tit-fucking beneath the cut. You're welcome.

“Bug? You ok?” 

Manicured fingers wave in front of his face, thumb and forefinger pressed together into a snap that jolts enough of Aeon’s brain back into his ears to refocus. He raises his gaze to Cumulus’ eyes with difficulty. A violet blush spreading over his skin. 

When he swallows, his mouth is dry. Her head is tilted, delicate brows narrowed as she looks at him, concern etched in the creases in her forehead. Aeon clears his throat. Tells himself to keep his eyes on her face. It’s an impossible task with the way her old uniform stretches across her chest. The way it hugs every inch of her curves. Skin tight in every place that matters. Nearly painted on. Aeon folds his hands in front of his sweatpants to hide the way his cock twitches in interest. 

He didn’t mean to walk in on her while she was trying it on. He’d had a question, she’d told him to come in. For the life of him he can’t remember what Mountain sent him to ask her. 

Cumulus is still looking at him. Expecting an answer. An explanation. Aeon’s pretty sure if he opens his mouth the only sound that’s going to come out is an unintelligible gurgle. He tries away. 

“You–uh–look really nice.” 

“Nice?” Her head comes back to center. She arches an eyebrow. “Just nice?” 

Aeon stumbles. Caught up between being polite and telling her what he’s really thinking. “No, I mean–shit–fuck.” 

Cumulus laughs at him, melodic. Good natured. She runs her fingers down the curve of her waist and tugs on the hem of the jacket, gripping the sharp lines to adjust it. 

“It’s a little tighter than it used to be–I looked better in it before.” 

Aeon’s eyes are fixed on the buttons at her chest. Straining. It would take almost nothing to pop a few of them open. To have her spilling out into his waiting hands. Silky soft skin in his hands, fingers plucking at her sensitive nipples. 

“I think it fits perfectly,” he says, almost mindless. Captivated by the way her body moves in the uniform when she turns to look at herself in the mirror. 

“I don’t know what Copia was thinking when he approved these,” she muses. Aeon doesn’t know if she’s really lost in her own thoughts about her old uniform, or if she’s playing it up for his benefit. But he doesn’t have the brain power to care. 

As she turns he gets a clear view of her ass, the way the pants hug it. He clenches his fists at his side. 

“I do,” he mumbles. 

Cumulus meets his eyes in the mirror and the last of his self control dribbles out of his brain. He presses up against her back. Rolls his hips against the swell of her ass. Arms coming around to pet at her waist, the soft curve of her stomach. He drags his fingers up the buttons on the coat. 

Cumulus leans back against him, sighing. Watching their reflection through slitted eyes. She smiles, fangs poking out over her bottom lip. Aeon wants to eat her alive–or be eaten alive by her. He doesn’t care. He just knows he needs to touch–to feel–to worship every inch of her. 

“Took you long enough.”

“I was trying to be polite,” he replies, sheepish now. Heat still flashing over his face. 

“Don’t be.” 

Aeon’s right about the buttons. They pop open with almost no effort. The black button up below it is much the same, stretched tight over her tits. He only undoes enough buttons to get them out. To get his hands on them. He cups one in each hand, rolls her nipples through his fingers. They’re adorned with jewlery he’s never seen before. Simple black barbells attatched with a chain that drapes down to her stomach. 

Aeon’s gut gives a little twist. Cock fully hard now where he grinds it against her. 

“Pretty.” 

“Do better,” Cumulus whispers, breath warm over his jaw. 

“Gorgeous.”

Cumulus hums. Aeon watches her eyes flutter closed in the mirror. Body melting against him as he plays. Weighing velvety soft skin in his palms. 

“Let me fuck them,” he says suddenly. The words fall from his lips before he gives himself permission to say them outloud. He blushes again, stupid human vessel. He wants to look away. To hide himself in the mass of her hair but he doesn’t. He just watches as her eyes open, vibrant blue and crinckling at the corner as she grins at him. 

“I mean–uh–shit–only if you want–I– “Bug?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up and fuck my tits.” She turns in his grasp lightening fast. Pressing up against him. She stands on her toes and kisses him. Slow and syrupy. Tongue dragging decadently over his as she pulls him toward the bed with a hand fisted in his t-shirt. Aeon looses track of it all for a minute. Lost in the taste of her, the feel of her in his hands. He’s drifting long before she shoves his pants down to his thighs, cock springing free and into her waiting hand. 

It takes longer than it should to get in a position that works. They keep getting distracted. Pausing mid movement to kiss, to touch. But eventually they get there. Cumulus on her back. Aeon straddling her ribs. She’s still wearing her uniform,  just pulled apart to free her tits. Jacket and shirt still fully on. Buttoned beneath her chest, excentuating her waist, her hips her thighs. Aeon wishes he’d thought to bring his phone. He wants a picture of her like this. Spread out before him. Wrapped up in skin-tight fabric. Tits spilling out into his hands. . He taps the wet head of his dick over one of her nipples, leaving a shiny smear of pre-cum over the dusky flesh. 

Aeon grabs the chain connecting Cumulus’ piercings, he wraps the metal around his hand once. Something to hold onto. The noise she makes when he pulls up on it makes his stomach hurt. A soft gasp, gut punched. 

He presses his cock between her tits. The skin silky smooth and pliant against him. Giving way with each roll of his hips. She tips her head down and spits on the head of his cock when it  comes out the other side. Enough to make the next slide wet and decadent. 

Aeon pulls a little harder on the chain. It only serves to press her tits tighter around his cock. He tries to keep his composure, to start slow. To take his time. But it’s too good. Each wet slide drives him closer and closer to insanity. He can’t help it. Cumulus isn’t helping. Not with the way she presses her tits together. Not with the little moans she makes when each thrust rattles the chain in Aeon’s grasp, pulls tighter on her nipples. Sensitive and swelling from the pressure. “Lu–fuck–so fucking good.” “If you get any cum on this uniform you’re getting the stain out,” she threatens. The wolfish grin pulling at her lips does nothing to stop the way Aeon’s balls tighten up. 

Aeon groans, digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek as he ruts his hips against her harder. He thinks that punishment is probably worth the reward.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Love lost (Nikolai Lantsov, pt.2)

Summary: Months have passed and Nikolai sees her again.

Warnings: angst

Part 1

------------------------

It all started as a business deal, an arranged marriage between two prominent families. Y/N and Nikolai were to unite their families' fortunes and become a powerful duo that would rule Ravka, with her kingdom strongly supporting their every step. At first, they had agreed to keep things strictly professional, with no feelings involved. But somehow, Y/N had let her guard down. She had allowed herself to believe that there was more to their relationship than just a business deal. And Nikolai had taken advantage of that.

Now, as she sits alone in her room, she can't help but blame herself for being so foolish. How could she have let herself fall for his charm? How could she allow emotions to overpower her mind?

The irony of an arranged marriage intertwining with the rarest, gentle feelings is not lost on her. The very thing that was meant to bring their families together and prosperity had turned sour and torn them apart. And now, Y/N is left to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

Every night she lays in bed and tries to convince herself that it was all just a business deal gone wrong, that she should have never let feelings get involved. But she can’t argue with the broken pieces of her heart that are proof it was more than that. She had genuinely cared for Nikolai, and he had betrayed her.

As her eyes close every night, her lips whisper promises that she will never make the same mistake twice. From now on, Y/N will keep her heart guarded and focus on what her family needs, leaving feelings out of the equation.

Y/N sits on her bed, her heart heavy and her mind racing. She's wearing a stunning ball gown, but the weight of the world feels heavier than the layers of fabric.

In just a few moments, she'll be announced as the future bride of the Fjerdan prince, but her heart isn't in it. She doesn't love him. She can't love him. Not when her unfortunate heart still belongs to Nikolai.

But she can't think about that now. She can't allow herself to dwell on the past, on what could have been. She wanted a great love, but instead, Nikolai gave her eternal suffering. She should have known better. This was never meant to be a love match. It was a political alliance, just as her engagement is now.

She blames herself for being so naive, for allowing herself to fall for Nikolai's silver tongue that speaks only lies. She had thought he was different, that he felt something real for her. In the end, it was all a game to him despite what their last meet had indicated. She almost believed it hurt him to see her walk away. Her bottom lip quivers as she remembers him begging her to stay.

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to push down the pain and the memories that threaten to overwhelm her. She must be strong, for the sake of her country and her family. The Fjerdan prince is kind to her, she must seek solace in that.

She stands up, her gown trailing behind her as she makes her way to the ballroom. The anticipation and excitement of the crowd can be felt even before she enters the room.

As she steps into the ballroom, Y/N's heart sinks. The first person she sees is Nikolai, looking as handsome as ever. The memories come flooding back, threatening to undo her as his eyes find hers. They’ve formally invited the King of Ravka, solely for political purposes, but she never thought he’d be so arrogant as to attend the ball. 

Y/N can't allow herself to be distracted. She's to be a queen soon, someone else’s queen, and she must be strong. She must put on a smile and pretend that everything is fine, that she's not dying inside.

Y/N lets out a shuddered breath and walks forward, determined to fulfill her duty and make the best of the situation. She knows it won't be easy, but she's determined to be the best queen she can be, even if it means sacrificing her own happiness. Even if it means living a life without true love, she will do what needs to be done. After all, could it have been true love if all he brought her was betrayal and pain?

Y/N tries to steady herself as she glances at Nikolai, realizing his eyes never left her. Months have passed since Nikolai shattered her heart, but the wounds still feel fresh. She has tried to move on, tried to convince herself that she is over him, that this prince can one day overshadow the memory of Nikolai’s lips upon hers, but seeing him again brings back everything she has worked so hard to forget.

He looks just as dashing as she remembers, with his blonde hair perfectly styled and his tailored suit fitting him like a second skin. He came with Zoya who stands at his side, disinterested while sipping the wine. It feels like a punch in the gut, seeing them together like that. He didn’t even have the decency to come alone, bringing the woman he destroyed their relationship with to her ball as if to parade their happiness in front of her.

She looks away and forces a smile as she turns to the guests, trying to push Nikolai's piercing gaze to the back of her mind. She listens attentively as they chatter about politics, fashion, and the latest gossip from the court.

Her Fjerdan prince, who had been standing by her side, wanders off to greet some of his own guests. Y/N takes the opportunity to scan the ballroom for any sign of Nikolai, but he seems to have disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N feels a pang of disappointment mixed with relief. She doesn't want to face Nikolai, not now when her heart is already heavy with the weight of duty and obligation. She tries to forget about him for he deserves none of her attention and focuses on the task at hand.

She engages in conversation with a group of ladies who are discussing the latest fashion trends. They seem oblivious to the tension in the air, and Y/N tries to follow their lead, keeping the conversation light and airy. She knows she cannot allow herself to think about Nikolai now. She has a duty and must honor her family's wishes. They’ve allowed her to choose her husband once and she trusted the wrong man. This time, she had no choice in the matter.

Even as she forces herself to push Nikolai out of her mind, she knows that she will never forget him. He had broken her heart, but he had also touched her soul in a way that no one else ever had. And for that, she would always love him, even as she accepted the reality of her situation.

Y/N's heart skips a beat as the first notes of the music fill the ballroom. She knows she should be dancing with her prince, but he's nowhere to be found. Panic sets in as the guests begin to look around, wondering where the future queen's partner could be. She feels a hand on her shoulder and turns around to see Nikolai standing behind her, his hand outstretched.

"May I have this dance?" he asks, his voice low and almost pleading.

Y/N hesitates for a moment, but with no other options, she reluctantly accepts his offer. The whispers around them grow louder as they make their way to the dance floor, Nikolai's hand firm around her waist.

As they begin to dance, Y/N can feel Nikolai's gaze on her, his eyes full of regret and pain. She tries to ignore him, focusing on the steps of the dance, but his presence is overwhelming. She can feel the eyes of the guests on them, their minds racing with speculation and gossip.

“Y/N”, he tries, but she cuts him off without a second thought.

“Don’t”, she hisses. “Please, don’t say another word.”

Y/N tries to keep her head held high, but she can't help but feel the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She knows she shouldn't be dancing with Nikolai, especially not on the night when her engagement to another man is being announced. But she also knows that she can't deny the feelings she still has for him, no matter how much she tries.

As they twirl around the dance floor, Y/N catches glimpses of the other guests. Some are whispering and pointing, while others are trying to look away, uncomfortable with the scene unfolding before them. Y/N can feel the heat rising in her cheeks, embarrassed and ashamed.

But despite all of this, Y/N can't bring herself to pull away from Nikolai. As they dance, she realizes how much she's missed him, how much she's longed for his touch. She knows it's foolish and reckless, but at this moment, she doesn't care.

The dance comes to an end, and Nikolai slowly releases her hand, stepping back with a deep bow. Y/N curtsies, feeling like a fool, knowing that everyone is watching and judging her. But she also knows that she can't deny the way she feels, no matter how much she wants to.

As she makes her way back to her seat, Y/N tries to ignore the eyes of the other guests. She knows that her actions will have consequences, but at this moment, all she can think about is Nikolai and the feelings that refuse to go away.

Y/N's head is spinning from the events of the evening. The ballroom was stuffy, filled with people who whispered and stared, and the weight of the expectations on her shoulders felt suffocating. She needed a moment to herself.

She slipped out of the ballroom and into the gardens, the cool night air a refreshing change from the warmth of the crowd. The moon is full, casting a soft glow over the flowers and fountains, and the sound of crickets fills the air.

Y/N leans against a tree, taking deep breaths and trying to steady her racing heart. She can't believe how quickly the evening had spiraled out of control. First, her prince disappeared, leaving her to dance with Nikolai. And then the rumors had started, the whispers and sidelong glances from the guests, all of them thinking they knew what was going on.

But they didn't know anything. They didn't know the pain she had been through, the betrayal she had suffered at Nikolai's hands. They didn't know that she was only here because of duty and obligation, not because she wanted to be.

Y/N closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She wishes things could be different, that she could have the love she had always dreamed of. But that isn't her fate. Instead, she is stuck in this endless cycle of societal expectations, a pawn in a game she doesn't want to play.

As she stands there, lost in her thoughts, she hears footsteps behind her. She turns to see Nikolai approaching, his expression unreadable.

"Y/N," he says softly, stopping in front of her. "Are you okay?"

She shakes her head, unable to find the words to express the depth of her frustration and sorrow.

Nikolai steps closer, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I'm sorry," his voice is quiet. "For everything. I know I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you if you’ll let me. We can leave here, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just say the word and you don’t have to marry him. You don’t even have to marry me."

Y/N feels a tear slip down her cheek. She wants to believe him, forgive him, and start over. But she knows that isn't possible. Too much has happened, too much pain and heartache between them, and her family’s reputation is on the line. She can��t turn her back on them.

"It's too late, Nikolai," she says softly. "We can never go back to how things were. I can’t just walk away and betray everyone like you did with me.”

As Nikolai catches her eye, Y/N feels a lump form in her throat. He looks at her with a mixture of longing and regret, and she can see the deep suffering in his eyes. She wants to turn away, to run as far as she can from him, but she can't.

Y/N's heart rate spikes. She doesn't know what he could possibly say to her that would make everything better, but she can't help the tiny glimmer of hope that flickers within her.

“If I knew a kiss would cause this amount of wreckage, I’d have rather died than done it.”

She can't bring herself to reply, so she simply nods in response. The silence between them is deafening, and she can feel the weight of all their unresolved issues pressing down on her.

"I know I messed up," Nikolai continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I want you to know that I never stop loving you. Even when I was kissing Zoya, it was you I was thinking about."

Y/N can't believe what she is hearing. After all this time, after all the pain he has caused her, he still has the nerve to say he loves her.

"I don't know if I can believe you," she says, her voice shaking with emotion. She was never quite clear what level of betrayal did he stoop to, assuming he slept with Zoya this entire time. A kiss was a lesser offense, but an offense nonetheless. He may claim that’s all it was, but it makes no difference now. "You cheated on me, Nikolai. With the very woman you told me not to worry about."

"I know, and I deeply regret it," he replies, his voice breaking. "I was foolish and didn't appreciate what we had until it was gone. But please, Y/N, give me another chance. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

As much as Y/N wants to forgive him, she knows she can't. The regret and pain in Nikolai's voice only make it harder to turn him away, but she knows it's the right thing to do. She can't just forgive him and forget what happened. It's not that easy.

"I'm sorry, Nikolai," she says firmly. "But I can't do this. I can't just forgive you and forget what happened. I need time to heal and seeing you is like picking open a scab that never fully closed the wound inflicted by you."

"I understand," he says, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "But please, know that I'll always love you. And if you ever change your mind, I'll be here waiting. I’ll wage war for you if you choose to run. I don’t care what it takes, it will never be too late."

Nikolai is devastated as he stands before her. He can feel the weight of his own stupidity crashing down on him. How could he have been so blind and impatient? How could he have thrown it all away for what was barely a fling with Zoya?

As he watches Y/N avert her gaze to the ground, his heart quivers with remorse that he’s doomed to live with. He has hurt her deeply and stripped her from the ability to trust anything he says, and he can't bear the thought of never having a chance to make things right.

Nikolai has always been confident and sure of himself, but now he feels lost and unsure, more than he did when his country was in a losing war with the Darkling. He can't stop replaying the moment when he fell to his knees before Y/N and begged for her forgiveness, of the way his heart was torn from his chest when she walked away from him. Nikolai wanted to run after her, to stop her leaving by any means necessary, and yet he couldn’t stand on his own two feet for hours after she closed the door on them. 

She didn’t even look back. Perhaps that hurts more than the rest of it. 

He wishes he could turn back time and make different choices. If he could create a new kind of Grisha that can manipulate time, Nikolai would have stopped himself from drinking so much on that cursed night, convinced himself that kissing Zoya wouldn’t lessen the ache Y/N’s absence is causing. If anything, that kiss only prolonged the ache, deepened it.

Tears fill his eyes as he realizes that he has lost the love of his life. He deserves to suffer for what he's done, but he wishes she’d take pity on him and give him a chance; a chance to prove to Y/N that he's changed, that he's learned from his mistakes and that he will never hurt her again.

Nikolai turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing there feeling more conflicted than ever. She wants to hate him, wants to tell him to never come near her again, but a part of her still loves him.

As reality sinks in, Y/N wonders what could have been. What if he had stayed faithful? What if they had gotten married and started a family together? What if she forgave him and the betrayal he committed never left that room? But those are just empty what-ifs, and Y/N knows that she has to move on. It would be unhealthy to entertain his ideas of becoming renegades. He’s just as bound to his duty as she is to hers. 

Taking a deep breath, she turns and walks back inside, her heart heavy with the weight of all her unresolved emotions. She doesn't know what the future holds, but she knows one thing for sure: she will never let anyone break her heart like that again.

[shadowdaddies]

hii do you think i could please request one where it’s feyre x reader. Feyre is wearing her illyrian fighting leathers and reader cannot stop staring at her body. they’re both newly mated so they’re in a frenzy and want to be close to eachother. They’re very possessive of eachother too. So when they go and visit an illyrian camp and someone tries to hit on feyre, reader gets insane instincts so protect her and claim her mate😍

Territorial

Feyre x Reader

well anon, I think I learned some things about myself while writing this so thank you for the request. lmfao I love this prompt, I feel a part 2 might be in order idk

Warnings: smut below the cut, very nsfw, oral f!receiving, slight exhibitionism, light bondage, this is obvi non-canon compliant, not proofread

You couldn’t move your eyes from your mate’s figure as she moved to fasten the ties on her leathers. It was your first time seeing Feyre dressed for training since before you accepted the mating bond. Her curves on display in the fitted outfit and her hair braided out of her face made her look every bit the most fierce and powerful female in Prythian. The mating bond was still new, and it took all your effort not to fall to you knees and worship her right then and there. 

Feyre could sense your distraction, softly laughing as she turned to you. “Focus, my love. We need to get to the camps right now. Hopefully we can get this meeting over with quickly, and then you can indulge me by sharing whatever thoughts you were just having,” she spoke in a sultry voice before taking your hand in hers and winnowing you both to the camps.

You and Feyre entered the camp and began making your way towards the strategy tent for your meeting. As you walked, you clocked every male and female who so much as looked in Feyre’s direction, making a mental note of every face. One male had the nerve to smile at Feyre, causing you to snarl at him something you didn’t even know you could do and wrap your arm territorially around Feyre’s hips, drawing her as close to you as you could. 

The interaction left you seething during the meeting, finding it almost impossible to focus on the discussion. It was as if your vision had blacked out completely except for Feyre, who could now feel your urges down the bond. You were feral, unable to think about anything except claiming her, making sure everyone in Prythian knows she’s yours. You could feel yourself getting hot, overwhelmed by your need as Feyre abruptly dragged you from the meeting and into the tent where you two were staying. 

You immediately pulled Feyre into a heated kiss, slipping your hand down to lightly smack her ass which drew the gasp you knew it would, allowing you to slip your tongue into her mouth. The two of you were in a battle for dominance, but you were determined to win this one. The camp would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Feyre is your mate. You walked Feyre backwards until her legs were at the edge of the cot pulling away from the kiss to sink to your knees in front of her as you’d wanted to do earlier. “Take off your top,” you whispered, holding eye contact as you began undoing the laces of her pants with your teeth while softly sliding your fingertips up and down her thighs. 

Feyre let out a shaky breath as she obeyed, the two of you working in tandem to get her undressed swiftly. You were again struck by her beauty, breathless as you thought about taking your time to ravish every part of her body. But for now, hearing her moans echoing throughout the camp would have to do. 

You gently pushed her to lay back on the bed with her legs hanging over the edge, rubbing soft circles as you kissed your way up her inner thighs. You held eye contact with her, reveling in her glassy-eyed expression as she watched you work. You smirked as you blew cool air over her heat, eliciting a gasp from Feyre before you quickly dove in, surprising her by immediately thrusting your tongue in her pussy, rubbing your nose against her clit as you continued in quick movements. Feyre’s back arched off the cot as she let out a loud moan. “Fuck, right there love,” she murmured, but that wasn’t enough for you.

“Feyre, I need you to scream my name so the camp knows who you belong to,” you spoke against her clit, feeling triumphant watching her reaction to the vibrations from your voice against her. You didn’t give her time to respond before moving your mouth up to her clit, giving kitten licks as you brought two fingers to her soaked pussy and thrust them inside, curling them in a “come hither” motion at a fast pace, which had Feyre moaning loudly and writhing beneath you. You pinned her hips to the mattress, never giving up your relentless pace against her sensitive walls while you licked and sucked her clit. Feyre came undone, screaming your name loud enough you were sure the entire camp, and possibly the entire Night Court, heard her. You cleaned her up with your tongue and crawled over her, delivering a soft kiss to her lips. You were satisfied knowing everyone here was aware of how you made Feyre feel, and moved to settle in next to her on the cot.

Feyre gave you an incredulous look before flipping you over so she was hovering above you. “You think you get to be the one marking me without any counteraction? You really weren’t listening in our strategy meeting. That isn’t how this court operates, my love. I saw how everyone was staring at you around camp, and I will make sure they know you are mine before we leave here,” she whispered against your neck as she pulled the silk tie from her hair and began binding your wrists to the top of the bed frame.

[wangxianficrecs]

prized above gold by Deisderium

prized above gold

by Deisderium

M, WIP, 9k, Wangxian

Part of WLW Wangxian Week 2022

Summary: Jin Guangshan has captured the Yiling Matriarch, and gives her to the Lan dragons as a war prize. Kay's comments: This story lives rent-free in my brain. WLW Wangxian featuring war prize Wei Wuxian and also foxxian and dragonji? Is it my birthday already? I absolutely love the character dynamics in this story and also the other canon divergence points, like Lan Xichen being Empress and Jiang Yanli being a sect leader. Jin Guangshan is being absolutely vile though, but thankfully, cursed shackles seems to be the worst he does to our beloved Foxxian. Due to these shackles, she can only transform into her human form at night and her powers are surpressed. The only way to undo the curse? Dual cultivation. Excerpt: As an enemy combatant and a war prize, though, Lan Wangji couldn't simply demand that she be freed. Lan Xichen might have come up with a more elegant solution, but elder sister wasn't here, and Lan Wangji could no more leave Wei Ying in that cage than she could cut her own hands off. "Open the cage," Lan Wangji said again. "I will take her parole." "Such a notorious huli jing as this," Jin Guangshan said silkily. "I almost kept her as a concubine myself. Who would have thought such a creature as this could tempt even one of the Lan?" One of the man's retainers unlocked the cage, and Wei Ying bounded out, running to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji stooped and held out her arms. Wei Ying leapt into them, and Lan Wangji thought, At least she still trusts me this much. Something cold and hard among the soft silkiness of her fur bumped against Lan Wangji's wrists. Gold bands encircled Wei YIng’s forelegs, just above her front paws. The bands were stamped with peonies, and there was no obvious mechanism to release them. "What are these?" Lan Wangji asked. Wei Ying's fox form burrowed against her chest, trembling. She felt so small this way. "It didn't seem prudent to let a demonic cultivator and huli jing have access to all her abilities.” Jin Guangshan smiled.

pov lan wangji, pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, fox wei wuxian, dragon lan wangji, female lan wangji/female wei wuxian, rule 63, emperor lan xichen, female lan xichen, xiyao, lan xichen/jin guangyao, post-sunshot campaign, war prize wei wuxian, yiling matriach, captivity, cursed wei wuxian, hurt/comfort

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