#dark blue duvet cover

[psychologistproblems]

Children Austin Example of a mid-sized transitional gender-neutral light wood floor kids' room design with white walls

[pudgybat]

Bedroom - Master Photo of a large transitional master bedroom with a dark wood floor and a brown floor, beige walls, and no fireplace

[ssweetleaf]

dark blue.

tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: you're finn's girlfriend- and you've always received the same question, what's a good girl like you doing with a boy like him? funnily enough, his older brother thomas wonders the same thing.

includes: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, age-gap (tommy is in his early 40s, reader early 20s, though it isn't specified), innocence kink/corruption kink, cheating, daddy kink, oral (male rec), throat fucking, cum-eating, based on this ask here

a/n: feedback is always very much appreciated!! <3

⋆✰

“What’s a good girl like you doin’ with a boy like Finn, eh?”

It was a common saying you'd get from various people over the few months that you'd been seeing a certain Finn Shelby-- you were used to it, the constant stares of disbelief that someone like you, someone so sweet, with pretty dresses and full of radiance would want anything to do with an up-and-coming gangster.

It was love, at least that's what you told yourself.

So after hearing that certain question so many times without batting an eyelid, why did it sound so different when it came from him?

Thomas Shelby. Your boyfriend's older brother. All stoic and dressed to impress and intimidate, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like always, smoking on it without a care in the world whether he was allowed to in a house like yours or not.

He had surprised you, scared the wits out of you-- you were alone in the comfort of your bedroom, sitting at your vanity doing your nightly routine before he had shown up. You hadn't a clue how he'd gotten in, and he was smug about it, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a big indicator.

You stood up, smoothing down your nightgown when it clung to the thickness of your thighs and attempted to make eye contact and stutter out a few words.

"M-Mr Shelby," you breathed, fiddling with your hands when you clasped them in front of you. "What're you doing here?"

Tommy's eyes flicked around your room, taking note of your white walls and plush, pink duvet-- the trinkets scattered along your room all cutesy and girly. Just like you and your stupid nightgown, he thought.

"Came here to properly introduce myself," he spoke, inhaling another drag and exhaling the harsh smoke in your direction.

"But we've already met," your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side impishly and unsure. "It was the other day, don't you remember?"

"I do," he flicked his tongue over his lips to moisten them, eyes still fixated on you. "but that was far too formal, don't you think, sweetheart?"

An unusual shiver ran along your spine-- sweetheart, you liked the way it sounded, the way he said it. Finn never called you sweetheart.

You nodded, in a foggy daze, staring at him with a somewhat dumb expression on your face.

Tommy cleared his throat and you quickly shook yourself out of your strange stupor.

"Aren't y'gonna invite me to sit?" he asked, eyebrows raised, waiting. "that's what polite girls do, isn't it?"

You were quick to nod your head, pulling out your vanity chair and inviting him to sit, just like he had asked. He sat down, the contrast of his dark exterior with your pretty pink belongings had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach-- a sense that he didn't belong there, but the thrumming between your thighs was obvious that you liked him being there, amongst you, amongst your things.

He stubbed his cigarette out in a little jewellery dish that sat upon your vanity, heart-shaped and porcelain, now covered in grey, smoking ash. You knew better than to chastise him for it.

"You didn't answer my question," he muttered, clasping his hands in front of him, though differently to you, it was in confidence, to intimidate.

You thought about it. Why were you with Finn?

"W-We're in love, sir," you stuttered, not meeting his gaze, your cheeks were on fire.

"You don't look too sure about that, sweetheart," there it was again, that name, a single term going straight to your core, a surge of wetness saturating the cotton of your underwear. "Has he fucked you yet?"

You coughed on your own spit, eyes bulging out of their sockets at his crude question.

"Pardon?" you breathed, exasperated.

His reply was simple.

"You heard me."

"I don't believe that's any of your concern-" he was quick to interject, eyes swarming and dark, consuming you, leaving you to hang your head and cower.

"Finn's my brother," he spoke, "I have the right to know what he gets up to, and I don't want him corrupting a good girl like you just because he thinks he's in love."

You flushed at his words and you decided to answer his previous question, no matter how inappropriate.

"We haven't," your words were soft, quiet, he almost had trouble hearing you.

"Haven't what?" he hid his smirk, he already had you wrapped around his little finger, it was too easy.

"Had sex," you muttered, cheeks searing at your confession.

“Do you want to?” He asked, you stiffened, lashes fluttering and lips opening and closing like a poor fish out of water.

“M-maybe…”

“Come here,” Tommy patted his thigh, signalling you to come closer, to stand between his spread legs and have him look at you much closer. You did as he asked, you were a good girl after all.

“Do you want me to show you what it’s like?” He cooed all condescending and mocking, “Do you want me to show you what big, bad men do to little girls like you?”

“Mr Shelby, what about Finn?” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of his youngest brother.

“Fuck Finn,” he spoke slowly, “you forget about him when I’m talking to you, you understand me?”

You nodded, resting your hands against his shoulders to steady you when he tugged you closer by the frills of your nightgown.

“Yes, Mr Shelby,”

“No, no, none of that,” he shook his head, hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your soft, covered skin. “You address me properly.”

You searched your mind for the right term, brows furrowing and lips pouting, trying to think what on earth he wanted you to address him by.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he chuckled, bringing his thumb and forefinger to grip your chin, tugging it from side to side. “I’m your daddy now, isn’t that right?”

You whined, unable to control it, rubbing your thighs together, your walls collapsing and letting your submissive nature come to the forefront.

Thomas Shelby was the devil himself, you were sure— and he was your daddy. Finn had disappeared from your mind completely.

“Yes,” you sighed, all dreamily and cute, leaning into his touch, “yes, daddy.”

His plump lips curved up into a smirk, palm patting at your cheek as if you were a dog, eager for praise-- and you realised that wasn't too far from the truth; just a bitch in heat, eager and ready for her first breeding.

You stared at him, dumbified from those cornflower irises of his, almost hypnotizing, and you were sure you'd comply with anything he'd ask of you.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tommy could practically see the gears shifting beneath your skull and he raised his brows when you stuttered, a silent 'I'm waiting' when you took far too long to answer him.

"C-Can I have a kiss?" you spoke shyly, thumbing the expensive cotton of his crisp shirt, growing impossibly warmer and not just because of the close proximity. "please?"

You made sure to add your plea, keeping your manners intact, giving him something to be proud of you for.

So innocent, he thought, you really were such a good girl-- something he thought was all just an act to get what you wanted, however with the way you stumbled over your words and fluttered your lashes, more eager for a kiss than anything else- anything more.

Yeah, that was no act.

Tommy fought the smile that ticked at his lips, using his fingers to tip your chin, tugging you closer, closer, closer, until you were a hair's width away. You could feel his lips brush against the skin of your cheek, gently, so uncharacteristic, you didn't think that a man of his status and power could be so sweet on someone.

Though, of course, that's what Tommy Shelby wanted you to think, he wanted you to succumb to the desires that he caused, take you and defile you and leave you wanting no man other than himself. He craved the power imbalance, the sick need to corrupt young, naive little girls like yourself.

Tommy Shelby was not sweet. He was worlds apart from that.

The soft feeling of his lips grew nearer, to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, before pecking your lips-- a small spongy kiss, capable of urging a little whine to escape your throat.

He kissed you again, slotting your mouths together, locking your lips one over the other, deepening the kiss and it quickly became heated. Swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, he didn't have the patience to wait for you to open up, instead forcing his prodding tongue inside your mouth, crudely swiping it against yours, sucking it between his lips before running it along the ridges of your teeth.

You didn't think kissing could feel so dirty, so unhinged, but you were rather ashamed to say you liked it. The way his callused hands trailed from your hips to your neck, all the way back down just to take a handful of your behind, squeezing the doughy globes roughly and playing with them as if you were a mere toy.

Tommy pulled away, a long, silver line of spit keeping your lips connected, only breaking apart when he began to speak, pushing at your shoulders and urging you to the carpet.

"On your knees," his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, clearly affected by you, by your innocence more like. "gonna teach you how to keep men like me happy."

You instantly obeyed, dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches, practically purring when he cupped and stroked your cheek.

He eyed you from below him, perched in the space between his knees and he spread them further to let you shuffle closer, your hands on his thighs.

"You're a good little pet, aren't you?" he cooed, swiping his thumb along your chin, "such a good listener, eh?"

You beamed up at him, leaning into his touch and nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, Daddy," a little giggle pushed past your lips, "for you."

"That's right," he hummed, "just f'me."

You had an idea of what he wanted you to do and you fiddled with his belt in anticipation for his next command.

"You're gonna learn how to properly suck cock," he spoke, "and y'gonna do a fucking good job of it."

Your mouth watered at the prospect of having his cock on your tongue. You sighed dreamily.

"And once I've taught ya, that's gonna be your job from now on-- gonna ease daddy's stress whenever he needs you to."

You nodded, cheeks searing.

"Yes, sir- I'll do anything f'you."

He had you where he wanted you, compliant and ready to yield at his every command. It was too fucking easy, he almost wanted to laugh at your naivety, how unaffected you were by the idea of having another man's cock down your throat, your own boyfriend's brother in fact and Finn hadn't even crossed your mind. Poor, poor Finn, always second best when it came to being compared to Tommy.

You may have been a good girl and did as the older man said, but you were still a whore at heart. His little harlot.

"Come on then, sweetheart, I haven't got all day," he chastised, cocking his head down to his belt that you hadn't unbuckled yet. You had so much left to learn.

You fumbled with the leather that encircled his waist, pulling it through the silver buckle and from the loops before unzipping his fly and pulling his tailored trousers down as far as you could to his thighs.

The bulge in his briefs was prominent and your mouth salivated at the sight, your natural reaction to a sight so delectable, your first cock to suck and it was so big too, you wondered how you'd be able to take him without choking on him. But where was the fun if you weren't?

Your instincts told you to reach out and grab it, so you did just that, palming him through his underwear and feeling the warmth of his shaft jolt and throb against your grip, already hard and you swore you noticed a little wet spot saturating the fabric-- a trick of the light, you thought.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, giving you a pointed look, eyebrow raised.

"I'm not 'ere to get teased," he huffed, as if his cock wasn't jumping at the touch of your hand. He took a handful of your hair, tugging it and making your scalp burn. "come on, take it out and get to work."

Your fingers curled under the elastic of his briefs, pulling the fabric down to rest where his trousers were, and the sight had you gawking, eyes as wide as saucers as you took in his pretty appendage.

So thick, littered with blue veins, the colour much akin to the blue of his eyes and you swallowed down all the saliva that pooled under your tongue. His tip was a pretty shade of tan, glistening with beads of pre-cum, slapping against his stomach every time he throbbed.

"I didn't know they could be this pretty," you marvelled, taking hold of it and delicately running your fingers up each prominent vein. Tommy cleared his throat at your unexpected praise, the grip on your hair a lot softer than before, instead of tugging on it, he petted it down softly, watching you watch him.

"Put me in your mouth, darling," you smiled up at him teasingly pouting up at him.

"So impatient," you teased, your confidence rising, before you tightened your grip, puckering your lips around his tip, sucking it as if he were one of your favourite lollipops.

You took him out of your mouth with a soft pop, just to reattach yourself to him, lathering your tongue over his sensitive head, the somewhat salty taste igniting your tastebuds and you hummed around him.

"There y'go, you can take more than that," you hollowed your cheeks at his words, going lower, taking him deeper and slowly you started to bob your head up and down, moaning at his taste and thickness on your tongue.

With a particularly harsh downward thrust of your head, he reached the back of your throat, instantly causing you to gag and you pulled off him, whining and sniffling with tears ebbing over your waterline.

"Good girl," he cooed breathlessly, chest heaving and palms cradling your face, hushing and settling you when you continued to whine out. "Doin' so well, got me a little whore in the making, hm?"

He pushed you back onto his cock, guiding you down, down, down until you were gagging once again, though this time you didn't pull off of him, you couldn't, not with the strength he was using to hold and keep your head down. Your nose brushed against the course thatch of hair that littered his pelvis and you tried to resist gagging at the stupidly large intrusion by breathing steadily through your nose.

You wanted so badly to rise for air, to ease the soreness that started to buzz in your throat, but although this was your first time, a true beginner, he still treated you like one of his most proficient whores. Coughing and spluttering, drool started to slip from your mouth and down your chin, so messy and slick, dripping down the length of your neck, saturating your pink nightgown and settling in the space between your tits.

"Fuck," he groaned, "gonna fuck this little virgin throat, gonna make you choke- doesn't that sound good, sweet girl?"

With the way you sobbed and moaned around him, he took it as a yes, keeping a good, firm grip upon your tresses to bob you up and down as he pleased, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth in the middle.

You grew light-headed, crude, sloppy sounds filling the air along with your constant gags and you quickly slapped at his thigh, urging him to let you up, to go easy on you and let you catch your breath. He didn't stop, however, didn't even slow down, purposeful in messing with you and teaching you that he was in charge-- he would decide whether you needed to breathe or not.

He chuckled at your vulnerability, stopping his thrusts to to sheath himself deep down your throat and keep you still, just the feeling of you gagging around his shaft was enough to stimulate him.

Eventually, he let you up for breath, marvelling at how you coughed and struggled to catch your breath, your throat feeling entirely abused and sore each time you swallowed. His pretty cock jolted at the sight of you, so messy and whoreish, hair tangled and spit dribbling down your chin.

"Breathe, darling," he cooed, cupping your tear-stained cheeks between his rough palms and pouting at you mockingly, pressing a rather condescending peck to your forehead. "Bein' so good-- almost done, sweetheart, just gotta make daddy cum and then you can rest that lovely throat of yours."

You breathed shakily, settling down on your haunches again and grabbing his slick cock in your grasp.

"Okay, Daddy," you sniffled, such a sweet girl, even with a cock in your hand.

Tommy guided you down, conducting your movements with a thrust and push to your head, keeping you pliant and submerging himself within you, and if your throat felt this good his head reeled at the thought of your pussy-- so tight and virginal, untouched, not even by your curious little fingers.

He'd have all of you soon enough.

You could see his stomach muscles clenching, thighs flexing from under your palms and you hummed around him when you noticed his thrusts growing sloppier.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, breaths haphazard and shaky, "you ready, sweet girl? You ready to taste Daddy's cum? Y'gonna swallow it all, aren't you, otherwise m'gonna have to force feed it down that pretty throat."

You stared up at him as best as you could, fluttering your lashes, tears spilling and clouding your vision, though you blinked them away, eager to see him, to see the way his face would contort, how beautiful he'd look whilst shooting cum inside your mouth.

One, two, three more thrusts were all it took for him to start convulsing, cock jolting on your tongue and spilling his seed, coating the walls of your constricting throat. He was groaning, moaning out loud, sounds so pretty you had to keep your thighs clenched tight.

"Shit- good girl, such a good little whore, you are."

He continued to ride his orgasm out, until he grew far too over-sensitive, pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting your head up, spent and eyes hooded watching you swallow his seed and hum at the newfound taste-- something you already found yourself becoming addicted to.

"Look," you beamed, still teary-eyed and shaky on your knees, you opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to marvel at, completely clean of all traces of his cum, now deep in your belly. "swallowed it all, daddy- just like you said."

Tommy's head started to spin, praising you at how good you had been though he felt strange, heart thumping in his chest at the mere sight of you, he felt soft, a small smile on his face without realising.

He thought you were wrapped tightly around his finger, however he had begun to realise in such a short time it was the complete opposite way around.

[whorrorbellee]

Call the shots part two

Oliver quick x fem!reader

TW:DUBCON? DARK!OLIVER(it's literally him though so idk)slight reader x felix, but also oliver pinning over felix because no ones mentioning that??? reader and Oliver lowkey hate each other I guess, SMUT, ORAL(fem) (a/n, Thank you!!! thank you so much for the attention the last part received, I haven't written in forever and ever and salt burn just reeled me in like a fish. there's going to hopefully be a third part to this to end the lil series,/// wish men actually kissed like this gif 😔)

if you haven't read the first part to this click here!

my master list

The first time you had met Felix Catton you were eight, your first summer at the Saltburn estate and after meeting Venetia at an all girls private school you had been introduced to her older brother by one year. Felix was mesmerising, he was like a prophet, everyone loved him, and you felt yourself fall in love with him deeply, of course at first Venetia hated it, you were hers, you belonged to her. But years after spending summers while your own family spent summers in Venice and Paris for business you had become Felixs as well. No jealousy had become between either of them. You had lost your virginity to him, smoked your first cigarette with him, your first line of coke, your first shot. All of your firsts and now. 

None of your lasts.

The air was heavy with grief as the Cattons to give the farewell to their beloved. Tear-streaked faces and her eyes swollen, Elsebeth stands stoically, hands gripped with Venetias. The service wasn't beautiful, but nothing could live up to Felix.

You stand opposite Oliver, his face crumpled, gripping the white handkerchief from dinners ago. The room echoes with muted sobs, you stand in disbelief, the last you had seen Felix his gold wings loomed over you, and now they hung from his bed untouched.

His grave now laying in the estates graveyard, six feet under with people who he hadn't met, you run you hand over the temporary wooden cross, his bracelets hanging from the oak, you taste the tears on your cheeks and Venetia clutches at your arm, mascara running over her cheeks, just like yours.

It's raining and the Cattons and you throw Felix's rock in the river before returning to the house. Oliver stays behind and returns with muddy knees, his shirt see through. When Venetia excuses herself to her room that night, you find yourself wandering saltburn in the dark with a glass of deep red wine in your hand, all you can think about is Felix's swollen blue face lying in a pile of puke. There was no beauty in his death. 

Clad in a white night gown and Felix's jumper you find your self in his room.

It suffocates you with the smell of cigarettes and cologne. the smell of Felix prevalent in his sheets comforts you. closing your eyes you begin to believe he's still there.

Suddenly you hear a sloshing of water. Deciding that Oliver must be taking a bath you think to yourself, a few minutes go past and Oliver enters the room. He's clad in blue boxers and a red robe, you can hardly remember the timid boy with frameless glasses at the beginning of summer. Silently, you observe Oliver as he moves with a heaviness in his step.

“What are you doing in here?” you ask, you smooth down the covers with your hand, rings catching on a bare thread, the duvet is lumpy and you assume it's from the socks Felix would shed off in his sleep.

“I should ask you the same thing” He questions back.

“Felix was mine first, I saw you crying at the funeral. Like you had known him for years and it's been six months, pathetic really."

You stare at him as he bends to meet with you at eye level, he leans on to his knees with his hands as you turn from his glare. He feels the heat radiate from your cheeks. They're wet, his hand meets your face wiping the salty tears with the back of his hand, rough against your skin.

“Stop it, Stop it Oliver” you cry, your hand meets the small of his wrist pushing it away from your face. They fall to your lap, your gaze following.

And suddenly “Apologise to me” he orders, his thick fingers grip at your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You stare through your lashes, one eyebrow raised at him. 

“what? Sorry for what?” you question, your head tilts, hair following.

“Say sorry for being such a bitch to me, such a bad girl” he coos. His other hand stroking at the wetness of your face. 

And you whimper at him. It's so delicious, he feels himself harden.

His eyes darken, pulling his hand back. You begin to think he's going to leave but your face is smacked to the left. Heat rushing to your cheek. 

“ow, what the fuck Oliver” you clutch at it.

“I said apologise, tell me your so sorry for being a rude brat this summer, make me believe it”

“You're joking,” your eyes widen.

He grips at your chin again,you think it might bruise this time, and as your eyes meet you feel something you haven't felt in forever, fear. Your heart thumps against your chest.

“I'm so sorry that you think i’ve been a bitch to you this summer Oliver,” your chest heaves. Teeth gritting at him. 

Oliver, however, doesn't seem satisfied; his grip on your chin loosens only to be replaced by a vice-like hold on your hair.The room feels like a confined space, trapping you in a twisted dance.

“Again” he commands with venom. You feel the grip on your hair tighten and you are pulled back in submission, reminded of the bruise on your arm from him.

You hiss at him as he holds your head up by your hair. “ I'm sorry!” you sigh “im sorry ive been a rude bratty bitch, i'm really sorry” you comply and his hand once cruelly knotted in your hair loosens.

His head cocks to the side, cooing at your disgruntled face “ Got there in the end didn't we?” he smiles looking down upon the soft of your faces, smoothing your hair down.

You nod at him quickly, and your body stills, eyes flickering down, you refuse to hold gaze with him. He still stands above you. 

Lips trembling you stutter,“Venetia was right.” 

“Huh?” he interrogates, eyebrows rising, intriguing him.

"You really can make people do whatever you want," you murmur, a bitter realisation lingering in your words, the taste of  imbalance still fresh on your tongue. Oliver smirks, a perverse satisfaction radiates from his gaze upon your body. You squirm underneath him.

"Then kiss me," he commands, his tone laced with an arrogant confidence that sends shivers down your spine. It hangs in the air, an unspoken challenge that demands submission. He bends to meet you once again.

You push your morals aside. Leaning in and allowing your lips to meet his in a forced union. His hand cups around your neck and tightens as you murmur against his grip. He parts your knees with his own. The oak bed frame digging into the flesh of your thigh as he runs his cold hand against it. 

“Fuck” he grunts. Your breath catches as Oliver's grip tightens around your throat. In that moment, something shifts, and his lips crash onto yours. Oliver's lips mold against yours; it's cruel and leaves you breathless, but it's too harsh to feel like Felix, and the breathlessness makes you panic, not giddy. Oliver is every bit harsher than Felix and it reminds you of how fleeting of a memory he will be. His weight presses into you as you paw at his chest, mewling against him you breath against each other in open mouthed kisses , he licks up into your mouth, thumb pulling your bottom lip down and watching it bounce back in satisfaction he smirks as he peers down on your body hand gripping at your thighs you whine.

He pushes your white silk nightgown up over your hips revealing your pussy,  smiling to himself and dips a finger in your wetness.

‘Hate me and yet you're soaked’ he grins up to you, his cheeks just at your knees, eyes looking so sweet.

He bites and sucks into the succulent flesh of your thighs, you gasp as his lips meet your cunt and indulges himself in you. You mewl your juices dribbling down his chin and creating a wet trail on his face.

“Fucking slut, could Felix make you come?”he questions. 

You nod at him.

“how sweet, too bad ill fucking ruin him for you” his hands traces at your thighs wandering up to your hips,

“Actin’ all innocent under me now, i know what girls like you are like ,your a fucking tease is what you are”

He dives in once again and your hand grips at his hair, it's gotten longer. He's every bit rougher than Felix, choosing to pinch and suck rather than kiss. You gasp and whimper as he eats you like his last meal, hands tightening on his hair. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you moan, he smirks under your hold, hands grasping at your hips to pull you towards him, you hump at his face and he drinks you up like nectar, feeling the pressure build.

“Mmm, close Oli” you whine.

He goes everybit harder and faster than before, and you feel the pressure snap, you convulse under him. Moaning and overstimulated, you whimper as he laps you up.

 His head leaning against your thigh, he looks up at you, bright blue eyes smiling up at you. Realisation settles in.

"You alright?” he strokes the length of your arm. 

You look away from him, biting down on your lip before slipping the covers over your body, now cold in the ridiculously big house, he joins you in Felix's bed.

“yeah, no, I'm fine.” you smile at him. Laying down and turning your body away, you feel his hands snake around your waist, you close your eyes, you feel so dirty.

Guilt pools in your stomach.

The light filters through the dark curtains, a curse of being south facing. Oliver lies there cocking his head, you pull on the red robe, smoothing back your hair. as you scurry to the bathroom to wash your face. Hand on the golden door knob you hear something smashing to the marble floor. Your eyebrows furrow, the door swings open and the maid in front of you releases a guttural scream, the bathroom floor is filled with murky red water and your eyes meet hers. Venatias head floating out of the bath, her blood spilling over the bath. You fall backwards, hand clutching over your mouth, Oliver peeks his head round the corner, his eyes widened. You push the door closed. 

Eyes flickering to the floor. You swallow. “I think you should go back to your room Oliver.” your hand reaches out for his arm, “ i think it's best i tell Elsebeth”

He nods,you choke back tears. Flapping your hands over your face before calling an ambulance.

Oliver is gone, he left in the morning shortly after Venetias funeral, you assume James had paid him off. 

You pack your things, one week of summer left and then oxford university, you look into the room adjoining yours. Venetias, she won't be coming to Oxford with you and neither will Felix, you begin to wonder if you'll see Oliver and how best to avoid him, not wanting to get into the complications of things, hoping you would never run into him.

When your luggage is piled up by the main door, Elsebeth and James stand next to you, smiling. 

“You will join us for the ski trip this winter won't you, dear?”

You smile at her, head nodding “ Mum and Dad said they would be coming, i think it would be best if we all spend christmas together” 

James nods at you, “maybe we could share the chateau with you, there's loads of rooms” 

You smile “of course, i'll let them know, thank you for this summer, amid everything it was lovely” you hand clasps around Elsbeth's shoulder, but she pulls you in for a quick hug, James taking to patting you back. 

“Well, I'll message you how I get on at oxford. Gosh ten years have flown by havent they?”you laugh, eyes watering. “Well goodbye, I'll see you christmas.”

the next part

@callsignwidow (comment to be added to taglist)

[uvuyai]

© uvuyai 2024

ძᥲᥡ 1 ~ 𝐿𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒 [EVENT]

Transfem! Furina x FEM! Reader

–genre. smut, nsfw,

–tw. girl cock, description of furina's cock, breeding, slight perv furina, sub x dom trope, overstimulation, MINORS DNI, creampie, riding, teasing, groping, reader is the same height as her, blow job, ooc furina, tit play, im sorry if you uncomfy with this,

–synopsis. Since Valentine's Day is around the corner, you called Furina in as you wanted to give her a good surprise. She wasn't expecting this.

Mari/yai's message – I've been thinking about an idea like this for a while.

Furina was patiently waiting on the duvet covered bed as you told her to meet her there. She had your favorite flowers, favorite chocolate, and a little teddy bear in her trembling hands. She could feel sweat dripping down her face and she barely could keep her excitement down.

Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor. She kind of spoiled half of the suprise for her. She asked if you got her something amongst chocolate or a teddy bear.

She heard a turning of a door knob come from the bathroom within the room

She turned her gaze towards the door, hoping it was you. And she was right. “A-ah, hey baby!” she waved at you with her eyes closed and a trembling smile. She opened her eyes to see you covered in a silky black (slightly) see through robe with fluff at the hem of it and at the end of the sleeves. Her face a really red by now. If you look closely, you can see her eyes turn into a black and white hypno circle but it didn't move.

You walked over to her with a blank expression lining your face.

You sat close to her, your thighs nearly touching. Both of her legs were trembling too much that it's visible to you now. You placed a hand on her thigh, sliding up and down with your index a ending up at her crotch.

A bulge began to rise on her shorts. A surprisingly big one. “I see you've gotten me something, hm?” you tilted you head and looked at Furina as she frantically looked somewhere else than your face. “Yes, y-yes. H-here!” she gulped and pushed the chocolate box with a brand on it(which were your favorite) towards, your favorite flowers, and a brown teddy bear. you carefully took them and placed them on the nightstand.

“I have that for you too Furi, but I have something extra to give” you places your index finger under her chin which made her immediately lock eye contact with you. “You are really quiet today Furi, what's wrong?” you showed sympathy but in a teasing way that made you voice a bit pitcher.

“Hm? Do you want this?” you dropped your robe to reveal a black lingerie set as if it was meant to be as a sleepwear. It had laced cloth around the bra part of it that it covered right above your thighs but it was see through.

Furina felt as if she was in heaven. She was slightly leaning back and her hands were grasping the covers with a harsh grip and if she had enough strength she could rip them off. “You want to touch me? Come on.” you opened your arms up to her. She quickly went into your arms, burying her burning face in your shoulder. Her bulge was poking at your thigh and it was

Her face was drenched in sweat. Her trembling hands reached down to your ass. You placed your arms around her neck, giving her a warming smile.

Furina noticed your breasts were slipping out of your top. She face planted herself between them which startled you. “Okay Furina calm down, now let me pamper you instead.” you pointed towards the bed(you both were standing fyi) and she obeyed.

You climbed on top of her, straddling her waist. “You should wear less clothing, Furi.” you slid your hand up and down her chest. Your hand went to her shorts, unhooking the button and pulling the zipper down. You slid her underwear down and her dick popped up.

It was an ocean blue color with dark blue line streaks leading up to her pelvis. It was a good tone to her skin. The tip was the same colors as the line streaks. A white bead of precum was at the slit of the tip.

You let out a heartly chuckle and moved down to where her cock was lining up your face. You placed your lips on the tip of her cock and slowly let it seep in until it reaches the back of your throat.

You bobbed your head up and down at a fast but simple pace. Furina clenched her teeth together as she grabbed strands of your hair.

You moved faster as you felt her dick pulsing in your mouth. She came with a loud whine and groan that anyone walking outside the door could hear. You felt thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. She was twitching too much now.

You climbed back on top of her to which she let out a gasp too. You slowly sank down onto her thick cock. You moved your panties to the side then sat in front of her dick so it was touching your pussy. It's been a while since you last did it before. Both of your faces were burning. Her moans were getting loud by the second. You closed your eyes as you gave into pleasure.

Whimpers and moans were stuck in Furina's throat. You moved at a simple pace as you bounced on her cock. You leaned your head back and placed your hands on Furina's knees(which were behind you).

Her dick was webbed in your juices. If it wasn't for your closed eyes, you would've seen hearts in her eyes bouncing. Your pussy was just so good for her, she wishes she could spend hours rather than doing her duties.

She wanted to take charge and make you moan louder. She rose up with her trembling arms and grabbed at your waist. Her nails dig into your waist so hard that it left crescent marks. You opened your eyes and looked at her with a startled gasp. Her left hand wrapped around your waist while her right hand took the straps of the bra off your shoulder, revealing your perky breast.

Beads of sweat dripped down your chest. She immediately latched onto your tits. The arm around your waist makes you bounce on her cock faster. She wanted to hear your moans louder now.

Her dick hit your cervix harder now. It's surprising that a short girl like her has a size like that. But hey, size doesn't matter.

“I-i'm gonna come–!” her breaths got harsher. And so as yours. You came on her dick as it sent volts of electricity run through your core. Thick ropes a milky white cum went flying in your insides.

You both were a panting mess as she fell back on the bed. You leaned down and unbuttoned her clothes, revealing her chest. She gasps as you look at her with lust.

“Let's go further Furi, it's Valentine's Day in fact~”

[a-simple-imagine]

Bigender asian with pronoun fuckery

synopsis: you're a rising star at godu. just cracked the top ten but a budding relationship with jordan li may bring everything crumbling down

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

words: 5.2k+

a/n - not sure how i feel about this but i am putting it out there. if this gets enough attention, I can work on another part that goes a little deeper?? I use all pronouns for Jordan but mainly they/them

WARNINGS - swearing and drug use

a groggy groan slips past your lips as you bury your face further into the gentle embrace of the pillow. it is early. too early. you have no clue what time it actually is but whatever the case may be, you weren't ready for the day to start just yet. it takes a moment to realise you're alone in this bed. you hadn't been when you fell asleep. it doesn't bother you too much though. they're probably just getting ready. that is until you hear a curse word muttered quietly; perhaps an attempt to not disturb you or maybe they just wanted to hide their frustration. "what are you doing?" your words half muttered into the pillow.

"rankings are out." that was it? rankings? you sometimes forget how competitive they can be. it's not like you're not interested. you've wanted that top spot since freshman year. alas, golden boy holds that spot and you'd never be a pretty blonde white boy if you tried. this semester you've been working extra hard. Everyone knows you're in the best chance of scoring a city contract if you can break the top ten but the seven? they want the best of the best. sure it's not impossible to be lower and also become part of the team, the deep managed it, but that was an anomaly. most supes just end up as walking advertisements for vought. and as much as you may enjoy the occasional acting class. you weren't here to end up on some CW show or a Netflix special. you were gonna make it into the seven. you were gonna prove to everyone that you are one of the best.

"who cares," you mumble, rolling onto your back and spreading your arms out wide.

"oh, so you don't care that you're now second."

"come back to bed." you urge. a silence seals the room until your brain catches up to what it just heard. did they say second? as in second place? as in one spot away from first? you didn't mishear that. sitting up, you eventually spy a feminine presenting Jordan sitting at her desk, illuminated by the blue glow of their tablet. their short bob falls to one side. a perfect backdrop for such a pretty face "Are you fucking with me?" they don't bother responding just shove the tablet out in your direction. grabbing it you see your school ID photo with a massive '#2' next to it. you blink a few times. scroll down a little. refresh the page. but again it's still there. it was real. "fuck"

"My thoughts exactly," Jordan reacts. you glimpse at them wondering what that comment means. it could merely be a jest or a reflection of their current mood. you take a moment to look at the rest of the list in search of their name. they were no longer top three. you found them sitting nicely at number five. double fuck. you had taken their spot. they're still top ten which most would be happy with but not Jordan. tossing the tablet aside, you drop back against the bed. letting your eyes fall closed. "we have class in like an hour."

"I don't need to go to class. I'm number two now," you press.

"not how that works," A dramatic groan falls past your lips, pulling the covers up over your head. bed sounded better than a morning lecture. you wish they would just join you or leave you be. "get out of my bed." Jordan huffs after a moment. "we're gonna be late." you don't move. you frankly don't care. "if you don't hurry up, no breakfast."

"fucks sake." you whine, emerging from beneath the darkness of the duvet. "fine. I'll let you buy me Jitterbean."

"thought so," they offer you a tight smile. you could never say no to a free treat before class. "chop-chop."

Drink in one hand, pastry in the other, you're feeling brighter as you stroll into class. Jordan trails behind you. they'd been usually quiet on the walk over. you put it down to all the attention you were attracting today. couldn't even walk across campus without people asking for pictures or saying hi. you weren't sure you liked it just yet but for right now it was fine. when you spot cate you offer a scrunched up smile which she quickly returns. you and cate had been friends since day one. something just clicked. "there she is," cate starts as you approach your usual spot in class. "the girl of the hour. you're literally all anyone can talk about."

"aren't i always," you tease.

"we're going out tonight"

"are you asking-" you begin as Dean Shetty strides into the room. guess brink was out today. "or telling me?"

"telling," cate's smile quirks up before she turns to focus on the class. guess that was the end of that conversation.

you linger by your desk as everyone else filters out of the room after class. Dean Shetty requested a word. you can't imagine what it's about. surely she isn't that bothered by your attempts at chatting through her lecture. you offer up an awkward little smile as you push off the desk you were leaning against; slowly making you way across the room. "so what have I done wrong?"

"you mean other than talking through the entire class," you internally cringe a little. maybe she was bothered by all the whispering. she watches you for a moment before continuing. "it is nothing like that. don't worry."

"then why am I here?"

"I just thought we should have a little chat." your brow furrows. what did you and the dean of an entire university have to discuss? was this about your ranking? was she about to tell you there had been a mistake? "I believe congratulations are in order- such an extensive jump in ranking, you must be proud."

this felt like a conversation that could have been an email. "sure. thanks." you shrug. you're not really sure what to say. of course, you're proud. you were the second highest ranked student in a school of exceptional kids. "is that all?"

"no," her head shakes a little. I wanted to make sure you understand the gravity of the position you're in." when you don't respond she decides to just continue. "being a superhero is about more than just your abilities. it's also about how you present yourself. people care about you. they wanna know what you're doing. who you're hanging out with. One minute you're taking a picture with a nice girl you met at a party the next you're fighting nazi allegations for hanging out with a white supremacist. do you get what I'm saying?"

you shrug. "don't hang out with nazis, got it."

"I'm saying you need to look at yourself more like a brand. Be careful about what you say and who you spend your time with. you're the sum of the people around you."

"I know. I took branding." everyone knew how this worked. being a good person only took you so far and if homelander was anything to go off, that doesn't even matter that much. it's all about how you market yourself. it's about how many followers you have. how much attention you can get. inevitably, how much money can you make for Vought? Dean Shetty smiles but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"you do want to be number one, correct?" you nod a little. "I want to help you get to the top but only if you wanna help yourself."

"what about Luke?"

"he is far from my concern right now." what did that even mean? "so?"

you hesitate. you did want this but you weren't entirely sure what you were agreeing to here. If Dean Shetty can help you secure first place though, maybe it was worth the risk. she was an expert here. should you even bother questioning why the sudden interest in you? "I want this."

"Good," her smile seemed more genuine now. "I know you can go far, just keep in mind what I said."

"I will," you start edging towards the stuff you left on your desk. "thanks."

"also try listening during lectures. I'm sure you and Miss Dunlap can talk some other time."

"Sorry." with that you practically run out of the classroom before she can continue talking.

it's a particularly chilly night smushed in the back seat of an old car. bright lights zoom past the window and music blasts through the speakers. you're not really paying attention to the noise around you. it's a mess of meaningless conversation. Dean Shetty's words play over in your head. She certainly would not approve of this little venture out into the night past curfew; what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Jordan eventually pulls your attention; in his hand, he holds two small red pills. you don't really question it before popping one into your mouth. a second for later. tonight was gonna be fun or if nothing else you can abuse enough substances to pretend. the secret location is just a massive warehouse. on the outside, you'd think it any old thing. inside you find massive tanks of rainbow fish, long sweeping curtains, jester-themed masquerade masks and other eccentric decor. it is the most random selection and yet it works so well. creates the perfect balance of sexy and mysterious but inviting. you find yourself in a booth with your friends all around. "so how's being number two going for ya?" Andre asks. "feeling the pressure yet?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "people are weird."

"what do you mean?" Luke questions.

"Dean Shetty said some things to me after class."

"-I come bearing gifts." Jordan appears, now in their feminine form with a couple of drinks followed by Marie. "courtesy of the young gentleman at the bar."

"What did Dean Shetty say?"

"it doesn't matter." you shrug it off. "two will never be one right."

"has it not hit yet?" Jordan wonders.

"i know what it's like to suddenly have all this pressure on you but try not to think about it much," Luke reassures you. "just keep doing what you're doing. you've got this."

"my guy. you're supposed to be happy here," Andre leans forward slapping his hand against your leg. "we're out here celebrating you, dude. cheer up."

"I'm plenty happy," you grumble sinking further into your seat. you appreciate their attempt to cheer you up but it's honestly not needed. you're happy to be in second place even with all the newly founded pressure; just a little confused about what was expected of you. "ecstatic even. let's talk about something else."

your head feels fuzzy. nothing feels real anymore. but it's good. great even. you feel so fucking good. like you've rid yourself of every lingering thought that wrapped itself around your body. you're light. you're free. the shimmering blue of the giant fish tanks is so mesmerising; you almost want to climb in but instead, you watch. colours morphing and shifting before your eyes. back and forth. back and forth. you jump a little as something touches your shoulder. "here you are." their words seem distant; muffled even. "you good?" you nod a little continuing to stare at the fish. two hands slip around your waist and connect in front. you feel their body press into yours from behind. you know it's Jordan. you know they're masc. You know them well. their smokey cologne. the way their body feels around you. the subtle differences between both forms. taller. bigger. firm. you let out a content hum. it's a rarity for such open affection. "what are you doing?" whispered in your ear.

"Just watching the fish,"

"why?"

"do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a fish?" you wonder softly. "to just swim around all day without a care in the world… no complex family systems. no pressure to be the best. just… swimming and pretty colours." their chuckle is temperate. affectionate. it almost seems like they somehow get closer.

"you're fucked, huh?"

"I'm good. I'm great," you respond. they just chuckle again, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. your relationship with Jordan was hardly one of romance. you have slept together. a few times actually. and some kind of feelings are there; at least for you there are but you're not dating. you're just… having fun. maybe you want more. who knows? you don't. would they even want more? probably not. you'd like it. maybe. doesn't matter. they make you feel warm. safe even. and that's all that really matters.

"shall we get you a drink?" you nod a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," you repeat nodding more eagerly. a dopey smile settling on your lips as you let your head fall back; nuzzling against him. "something fruity, please."

"let's get you something fruity," arms vacate your waist replaced with a hand in yours.

"bye fishies," you throw a wave back. "say bye Jordan."

"Absolutely not." they interlock your fingers before leading the way back into the turbulent crowd of the club.

"you're no fun." you groan playfully. weaving through the mass of people back towards the bar, you come across cate. as you approach, Jordan let's go.

"you found her then," shouted over the heavy bass and mess of voices.

"she was alone staring at the fish tanks," they respond.

"the fish were really pretty," you contribute with a bright smile.

"you gotta stop running off, silly."

"but the fishies-"

"I know they're pretty but still," cate continues. "do you wanna come dance?"

"hmmm… yes." you respond brightly. "jordan's gonna get me a drink. jordan get cate one too."

"yeah Jordan, get cate one too." cate repeats playfully. her hand slides into yours and she pulls you towards the dance floor. it's a lot of blurred colours as you sway and move alongside the blonde. she wears a playful smile and smells so good. really sweet. like freshly baked cookies. "are you good?"

"mhmm,"

"you sure?" it's so loud out here. there are so many people around you. it's hard to pick up what is being said.

"I am so good, cate," you respond loudly. "I mean definitely fucked but yeah. are you good?"

"yeah," she nods. "I'm-" the rest of her sentence is impossible to comprehend.

"what?"

cate places her hands on your shoulders bringing you to a stop as she leans in extra close. "i said i'm proud of you."

"you're starting to sound like my mom," you joke. she playfully hits your arm. "but thank you."

"i think you could actually take luke's spot."

"i definitely can." you declare proudly. "dean shetty offered to help."

"really?" cate seems shocked by the idea. "why?"

you shrug. "i'm gonna be in the seven one day." you yell loudly. nobody cares. everyone is being loud. it'd drowned out by everything else. cate stares at you for a moment before letting her smile return.

"fuck yeah, you are," cate shouts. your smile brightens. fuck yeah, you are.

your head pounds with the weight of your bad decisions. maybe you went a little too hard. Nausea settles deep in the pit of your stomach. you think you're gonna throw up. you don't. you breathe deeply through it. a long groan forces its way past your lips as you roll onto your back; stretching out your limbs as far as they go to very little relief. A pain radiates from your left leg. god only knows why. you're just a little achy. how did you even get here? the last thing you remember is dancing with Cate; having fun.

"she's alive," the voice catches you off guard. it sounds like… wait. your eyes finally focus on the person in the room who definitely wasn't your roommate. that black hair. that pretty face. the effortless expression of too cool to be here. jordan li is still in the exact same outfit as last night. why were they here? "how's our newest celebrity?"

there were many ways you could answer but your brain could only come up with. "shitty."

"I bet," they approach the end of your bed, holding out a glass of water. "here."

you slowly push yourself up into a seated position. trying desperately to ignore the intense pressure building in your head. "why are you here?" you ask, accepting the glass and taking a long, big gulp.

"Jordan stayed all night," your roommate, Beth, interjects. By her tone, she was not happy with your newfound company. "would have been nice to know."

"I'm allowed to have people in our room, Beth." you hand the glass back to Jordan before falling back down against the bed. rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger. "I wanna die."

"tell me next time." Beth continues to argue. "instead I wake up to a stranger in our room."

you groan loudly. this was too much talking for your poor delicate head to handle right now. "I'm right here, guys," Jordan insists. "I literally spoke to you last night."

"I'm making a point." your roommate argues. "I'd like a heads up."

"gooooood! okay- sorry," you groan. you really don't care this much

"Okay, well, I gotta go," Jordan hums. "wasn't supposed to stay this long just wanted to make sure you're cool."

"I'm fine. go," you wave a dismissive hand as your eyes flutter close. "thanks for getting me home."

"any time," their weight leaves the bed and you roll onto your side to face the wall. pulling the duvet closer around your body. "I'll text you- bye Beth."

"bye Jordan." you hear the door click and an uncomfortable silence fills the room. it's preferable to the loud conversation that just happened. it's a relief to your head. you just want to go back to sleep. "they must really like you."

urgh. you don't want to talk anymore. "yeah, jordans cool."

"no, I mean, they like you," Beth continues on. you bury yourself further into your cocoon of pillows and duvet. "stayed the whole night just to keep an eye on you. I said it was fine- you'd be fine but they insisted."

Jordan insisted? just how fucked up were you that Jordan li of all people would stay the night just to make sure you were okay? you guys were good friends but most of the time they were either bullying you or treating you like a child which is like a subset of bullying you. you remember them wrapping their arms around you as you watched the fish last night. you've seen Jordan's softer side obviously but yeah. "we're just friends, dude."

"All I know is that Jordan li, as far as I've seen and heard, would not do that for just anyone. they're into you."

"sure. fine. whatever." you growl. you just wanted this conversation to end. Jordan was cool but if you think about this for too long your head is gonna explode. right now, sleep was what you needed. "Jordan Li is in love with me. I'm going back to sleep." it's hard not to think about what Beth suggested. that Jordan was into you as more than just a friend and occasionally fuck buddy. is that something you should talk about? What if Beth was wrong and you bring it up and it makes things super weird? you can't handle that. you have like a million classes together, you would never be able to escape them.

it was a bright sunny day in the quad of Godolkin University. you sit in the courtyard. a laptop, criminology textbooks and a water bottle spread across the table. you have an essay due in a few days. you had sat down to work on this essay multiple times with a beautiful blank document and many hours on TikTok to show for it. "hey," your TikTok time is interrupted by none other than Jordan Li. you had not seen them since that night or morning. you hadn't really spoken either. you weren't avoiding them by any means. you were just busy and they hadn't seemed too eager to talk so. "hey," they say after a moment. "how's the essay going?"

"so great," you flash a smile. "I've written so much."

"that good, huh," they joke awkwardly taking a sip of their coffee. you just hum in response. you need to get this done. no time to add Jordan to the list of distractions. after a few moments of silence, they speak up again. "I was hoping we could talk

"Can this wait? I really need to get this done."

"I guess…" Jordan trailed off. you look at him for a moment. he seems disheartened by your request.

"what's up?"

"it… doesn't matter. don't worry." a small smile settles on their lips. "I should go."

"you sure?"

Jordan pushes up from their seat. "I'll see you later."

that was weird. definitely something you need to come back to later when you're not working on a deadline. for now, you had an essay to, at the very least, start.

"Have you spoken to Jordan recently?" you ask Cate as you slide into a booth at the on-campus Vought - a - burger. the smell of deep-fried food hangs heavy in the air and you know damn well this table is probably gonna be sticky as hell. "I feel like they're ignoring me."

"What makes you think that?"

"the fact that they're quite literally ignoring me. I've text them a couple times and nothing. even in class, they can hardly look at me." you reach into the bag to pull out the food; placing it on napkins in front of you. cate hands you your drink in exchange for her order. "I feel bad. they tried to talk to me the other day but I wanted to get my essay done."

"they've seemed fine to me but I've been working on a project for my hero management class." Cate shrugs. "is this about what happened the other night?"

"what happened the other night?" you questioned, popping a fry into your mouth. it actually tasted fresh and salty; guess you came at the correct time. you hate it when they're all soggy.

"I don't know if it's my place to say- you were pretty high."

"did I do something… bad?" you didn't remember that night but you never imagined you would ever do something inappropriate.

"no. not bad." you can tell she regrets bringing this up; whatever this is. torn between wanting to help and not overstepping boundaries. She is about to continue when two girls approach the table. freshmen you presume. you've never seen them before.

"Can we get a selfie?" the taller of the two requests. you frown a little.

"we're actually trying to have a private con-"

"it'll just take a minute," they turn around and hold the camera out, snapping a picture before you have a chance to react. "thanks." they scurry off almost immediately. you'll probably find yourself tagged in a picture on Instagram later. it had been happening a lot recently; so much so that you had to turn notifications off.

"the fuck?" you share a confused look with Cate. "people are so rude."

"they're just excited. you're basically a celebrity to them," Cate chuckles.

"do you think Jordan hates me now?" you wonder bringing the conversation back to Li.

"it's probably just because of the rankings."

"you mean because I took their spot?"

"Jordan has always been pretty intense when it came to rankings. they've wanted that top spot for as long as I've known them." Cate explains, hiding her mouth as she shoves more food into her mouth. "must suck that you just jumped to two and have the dean in your corner no less." you never really considered how Jordan must be handling all this. you knew they'd be a little upset but this seemed extreme.

"I never really thought about that," you sigh softly. "should I apologise?"

"I don't know," Cate resumes, biting the head off some fries. "if you think it'd help."

"I don't know why they didn't just tell me that when we first found out," you frown a little. "they were a little distant but they seemed cool when we went out."

"maybe you should just try talking to them," Cate suggests, picking up her drink. She takes a swift sip before continuing. "if it's about rankings or the other night- I don't know. only Jordan does."

"what happened the other night?" you ask again.

"ask Jordan."

"I'm asking you, Cate."

"you were just a lot and said some things."

"Cate!" you huff, falling back. you know Cate well. you know when she's avoiding something. "I know you're being cryptic so I give up on it."

"it's just not my place. it's between you and Jordan. I don't wanna get in the middle." Cate presses sharply. "did you get your essay done?"

"no," you shake your head. "I ended up getting an extension- how am I supposed to speak to them when they're ignoring me?"

"i don't know- can we please talk about something else?" Cate pleads.

"Sure," you hum softly. taking another fry you dip it into some sauce. "let's talk about how I'm about to fail criminology."

you text Jordan that you're coming over. It wasn't a question but a statement. no option to refuse. you needed to sort this out and being direct was the best approach. did every inch of your body buzz with anxiety as you made your way towards their dorm room? yes. but it beat constantly thinking about every little interaction you had with Jordan in the past week trying to figure out exactly what you had done wrong. the only blank spot was that night and Cate had unintentionally convinced you that you had done something absolutely awful. maybe you told them you hate them or invalidated their identity in some way? fuck. you swallow hard staring at their closed door. you shake out the nerves before knocking. knock. knock. knock. and the door swings open to reveal Jordan. "hey," they hum before retreating into the safety of their dorm. shutting the door behind you, you step inside the all too familiar space; you had been here a great many times and yet today there was a weird vibe. it felt foreign. cold even. "so what did you wanna talk about?" for a split second you almost forgot why you were here. you turn to Jordan who is sitting on the couch, a laptop thrown off to the side now. your eyes fall to the homelander Vought-a-burger toy that has somehow become a staple of this room. leader of the seven. currently facing major allegations. "you good?"

"Are you mad at me?" you blurt out. "is it about the rankings? I know they mean a lot to you and I basically took your spot so I get it if you're mad. it's a little unfair because I've always wanted this too but like I get it." your rambling but you can't help yourself. you need to get this all out as quickly as possible before your brain catches on and you chicken out. "And I'm sorry about the other day, I just really needed to get my essay done. I ended up getting an extension because I was so stressed out about it, I just couldn't start." you can't bring yourself to look at them. "or if I did something shitty on that night out. I'm sorry. it was fucked-"

"whoa dude, chill out," Jordan ultimately interrupts. "you're talking a lot." you dare a glance at them. their face is pretty neutral so you have no clue what was going on in their head. "what are you even asking?"

"why are you avoiding me?" you ask. "I've clearly done something wrong."

a heavy sigh leaves their lips as they fall back against the plush fabric. "I'll admit I was a little annoyed with the rankings at first but I'm working on it. this is like a really big deal for you."

"so you're not mad at me?" you sound so pathetic. an even bigger sigh leaves their lips. you're not sure what that means but nobody sighs that heavily for good reason. they push to their feet, crossing the room towards you.

"I'm not mad at you," they say softly as they approach. for a second they hold your gaze as they linger close but then they flicker away. "I'm just… confused."

"About what?" they take a step closer. so close. too close. their hot breath pricks at your skin but you don't dare move away. you almost feel drawn to them.

"Is this okay?" they say quietly.

"Are you only doing this so we'll stop talking about it?" their head shakes just a little.

"no," their hand graces over your neck and up to the bottom of your jaw. Their thumb gently brushes your skin, sending a chill down your spine. there would always be something about Jordan Li that made you melt inside. when they're here and so close, you almost forget all your worries. the way they look at you. like you're the only person in the world. a feather-like embrace is enough to send you spinning. "I don't think I can just be your friend anymore," whispered against your lips. "I… like you too." they pull back.

"Jordan,"

"I need you to say it- I need you to say it sober so I don't feel like a fucking idiot," say it sober? when did you say it in the first place? maybe this was what Cate was talking about. the thing you couldn't remember. you admitted to having feelings for Jordan. fuck.

"I…" you trail off, the words are caught in your throat. this is gonna change everything?

"It's cool," they declare loudly, letting their hand fall as they away. "I get it."

"no Jordan-"

"no it's fine. you were fucked. it didn't mean anything- I shouldn't have said anything."

"Jordan," you say louder, reaching out for their hand. a deep regret fills your stomach. you liked Jordan. they meant a lot to you and you were throwing it all away because you were scared; terrified even. if this doesn't work out then you ruin everything. there's no coming back from this.

"don't," they yank their hand away. "please don't. I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity."

"I don't get you." they huff. "you're all over me and then you want nothing to do with me. you tell everyone you like me but then… nothing? it's… confusing-"

"Jordan just- stop please," you say loudly. "I… like you, okay?"

"don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you say a tad more confidently. "I like you." you try to reach for them again. they let you take their hand. " i don't know what it means exactly but I do… like you… too." you squeeze their hand slightly. it's warm and fits so perfectly in yours. they turn back to you with a smile. a small genuine smile that fills you with butterflies. they really did mean so much to you.

"so… now what?" they ask.

"I don't know." you pursed your lips, shrugging your shoulders. "but I do have to go."

"Seriously?"

"I have a meeting with Dean Shetty." you express. "I'm sorry. She wants me at some dinner so."

[chrisevansonly]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: charles leclerc x female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: life is too heavy to carry, thankfully your boyfriend will carry it with you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: talks of mental health and suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, heavy topics so please read at your own discretion

𝐚/𝐧: i’ll be honest this is self indulgent and i know i said i wasn’t writing but idk i feel so low and thought writing about how im feeling might help? ive struggled with mental illness my whole life so i find writing it out in a way i can enjoy helps…i hope it helps others that are in need of it too<3

Life is painful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s dark and gloomy, heavy and hard to carry, life is painful. Okay well maybe not for everyone but for you it was, and it was draining, exhausting really trying to survive each day instead of living like everyone else. Truth be told you’d struggled with mental illness for as long as you can remember. In high school the suicidal thoughts came into play and you had fallen into a place no one deserved to fall.

You’d hear people tell you to smile, cheer up, get outside and take in the fresh air, but they don’t understand. They don’t get the internal pain one feels when they deal with depression and anxiety, unless you live it: you don’t get it.

So yes, life was painful but there was an ounce of sunshine in your life and it came in the form of Charles, your boyfriend of exactly three years. The man who broke through the storm to bring you blue skies and calm waters, the man who held you tightly as you cried for a break, aching for a moment of peace within yourself. Charles was a gift, you were sure of it: he was too.

“my love…?”

His voice was soft, delicate as it filtered through the dark bedroom, eyes filled with concern as he looked at you huddled under the blankets, almost willing them to swallow you whole

“hmm?”

It might not have been a word but Charles would take it

“can I get you anything? do you need something?”

The room fell silent again except for the sound of covers shifting, your head peaking over the duvet

“y-you please”

Hearing your voice break was enough for Charles to promptly move from his place in the doorway, lifting up the covers on his side of the bed before settling down and pulling you into his side, letting you virtually melt against him

“okay, okay i’m here, it’s okay amour..”

“it-it hurts”

“i know baby, i know it does…but it will only hurt for a little, i promise you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but how many years would you have to suffer before it truly felt like you would never know how to feel okay.

“it’s hard to be here”

Now this caught Charles attention right away, having known your past with depression and even suicidal thoughts, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of you being anywhere than right here with him

“listen to me baby, i know it hurts, i know it’s hard, but i promise you i will help you find your sunshine, i will help you find your happiness”

He paused shifting to rest a hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping at a stray tear on your cheek

“i love you with everything in me, and i will do whatever i can to help you through this, if you need me to carry more of the weight, let me, if you need a shoulder to lean on more than usual, do it. you are my entire world baby, i won’t ever leave you out in the dark to take this on all on your own..”

Letting out a soft sniffle you looked up at him, always appreciating just how much love he held for you in his eyes alone

“why, i-i’m so sad a-all the time”

“because i love you. it doesn’t matter if your angry, happy, sad it’s part of you, i love all of you no matter what, and i am not going anywhere”

Charles leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead letting you have a minute to just digest everything he was saying

“pinky promise?” you asked softly, holding your pinky finger out which brought a soft smile to his face

“pinky promise baby, always.”

Nothing else needed to be said as you curled yourself further into his side, his arms only tightening on you, as if to keep you from slipping away from him. Charles knew words only helped so much, but he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you blue skies back. Even if it took days or weeks, even months, Charles was going to be right beside you, every step of the way.

Life might be painful, but you never had to go through it alone again.

[wileys-russo]

looks can be deceiving (2) II a.russo x reader

one more secretly soft biker gf (au) lessi based off this request here looks can be deceiving (2) II a.russo x reader

your eyes fluttered awake as you heard the blare of your alarm from your phone beside you, screen lighting up the dark bedroom as you sighed, hand reaching across to flick it off.

you tiredly rubbed your face and let out a deep sigh, knowing you needed to get up and ready for work soon being on the opening shift. ever so gently you moved alessia's arm from where it was draped over your torso, placing it gingerly across her own stomach.

though no sooner had you slightly shifted to move yourself did her arms return, wrapping around you even tighter than before. "lessi baby, i have work." you reminded quietly with a smile, turning around in her hold and running a hand affectionately through her messy mop of hair which lay sprawled across her pillow.

"don't go." was all the half asleep girl muttered, shuffling in closer to you and burying her face in your neck. "i have to go." you laughed softly, kissing her forehead as she whined tiredly.

"no you don't. you have to stay here with me, in this bed, forever." alessia demanded sleepily, lazily kissing your neck. you squirmed feeling her deeply exhale against your skin as her nose tucked into the column of your throat.

"i can't do forever but i can give you...six and a half more minutes?" you bargained glancing at the time on your phone, scratching at her scalp and feeling her wordlessly nod, hugging you even closer as you smiled.

this routine wasn't anything new to you. in fact alessia was the furthest thing from a morning person you'd ever known. the only time she ever got up before midday was if she had work at her dads shop and even then she was rarely ever seen there before ten.

"okay i have to get up now my love or i won't have time to shower." you warned softly, alessia groaning discontentedly but letting you go none the less. you sat up and swung yourself out of bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress for a second to properly wake yourself up given it was only quarter past four in the morning, your shift starting at five.

you stood with a stretch as a tattooed hand snuck out from the covers, lazily smacking your bum as bright blue eyes peered out from the covers with a tired but cheeky smile. you shook your head as the girl rolled back over, hugging her pillow instead and you made your way to the bathroom.

"hey." you poked and prodded at the human sized lump beneath the duvet a half hour later as you finished tying your hair up, about to leave. "i'm leaving baby." you announced, moving to sit on top of alessia over the covers, tugging the blanket down to reveal her face.

"have a nice day gorgeous." the girl mumbled, eyes still closed as you ducked down to pepper her face with kisses before getting up off of her. "you should come get a coffee later." you added on hopefully, working part time as a barista while you studied environmental law.

"i have to go to the shop later to get a package for luca, maybe i will." alessia exhaled, pulling herself into a sitting position as she squinted up at you, eyes puffy from being half asleep, long mane of bed hair disheveled and pushed to one side of her head.

"you're so cute less honestly." you swooned at the sight, bending down and kissing her lips softly, pulling away before she could take it any further.

"shut up or get back in this bed with me." alessia warned tiredly, body flopping backwards into the pillows as her arms covered her face again, one tattooed leg poking out from the covers as she stretched with a groan followed by a deep sigh.

with a shake of your head you smoothed her hair out of her face, tenderly kissing her warm forehead and swatting away her hands which tugged at your top, mumbling a final goodbye against her lips before grabbing your bag and leaving her apartment.

~

"i guess that one's for you." you glanced up at your coworkers quiet chuckle, spotting your girlfriend hovering by the counter, fiddling with one of her bracelets, a bored expression on her face.

"hi baby." you greeted with a warm smile, handing the takeaway cappacino to the woman waiting on the other side of the machine and standing by the register. "usual?" you asked as the older girl nodded, glaring at you as you quickly tapped your own phone on the awaiting eftpos to pay.

"just say thank you and smile." you teased with a wink, moving back to the espresso machine as alessia rolled her eyes but mumbled a thank you, shoving her hands into the pockets of her favorite leather jacket which adorned her shoulders.

"you finish in an hour yeah?" your girlfriend asked as you began to make her drink, humming in confirmation. "is it okay if i wait around? i can walk you home." she offered sweetly as you sent her an amused smile.

"so you can walk me to your home?" you grinned as alessia rolled her eyes again but a smile tugged at her lips as she accepted the iced coffee you slid her way.

"shut up. you look cute in your little apron." she complimented, slipping a straw into her drink and wandering away to a table out front, pulling out a book you'd not noticed she had tucked under her arm, propping her legs up and getting comfortable.

alessia was so caught up in her book she hadn't realised the time, jumping a little in surprise as you tapped her on the shoulder, apron folded up in your hand and bag slung over your shoulder having finally finished.

"hated it then?" you nodded to her empty coffee cup with a grin as she marked her place and snapped her book closed, tucking it back under her arm. "had better." she shrugged with a blank stare as you looked at her with offence.

"i'm joking, it was perfect as usual." she quickly stood to pull you into a hug, your girlfriend not ever being one for much pda as the two of you made your way out of the cafe, you calling out goodbye to your coworkers over your shoulder as alessia held the door for you.

"your apartments this way?" you frowned as alessia started off the opposite direction, nodding for you to follow her. "i have to grab a few things first." she pointed to the market across the road as the two of you fell into step, you talking her ear off about your shift as alessia listened with an occasional hum to show she was following along, hands still shoved deep into her pockets.

"do you need milk and eggs?" you questioned as the two of you wandered through the market, your girlfriend nodding as her eyes scanned the deli for what she wanted, you scurrying off to grab them.

with alessia being as organised as she was and knowing exactly what she needed it didn't take the two of you long before you were at the checkout. "don't you know her?" you nudged your girlfriend nodding to a random person across the store, utilising the brief few seconds of her looking away to again tap your phone and pay for the groceries.

"oh you little shit." alessia realised she'd been played as she looked back and it was all paid for, you grabbing a bag of shopping with a happy grin. "-and a pack of marlboro reds please." you gave her a displeased look as your girlfriend paid for the pack of cigarettes, shoving them into her back pocket and grabbing the rest of the bags, gesturing for you to hand over your own.

"do that and i am not kissing you." you warned as the two of you began your walk back to her apartment and she nestled a cigarette between her lips. "sure you aren't." she smirked, adjusting the shopping bags which hung off her wrist and finding her lighter as you rolled your eyes and walked off without her.

though with her much longer legs she'd caught up to you in a second, wandering alongside you now a comfortable silence between you two.

"let me try then." you demanded holding your fingers out expectantly for the cigarette which hung between her lips as the girl exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air and firmly shook her head at your request.

"oh babe haven't you heard? apparently these are really bad for you."

~

"are you nearly ready for a break gorgeous?" you almost moaned in relief as your girlfriends large strong hands massaged your tense shoulders expertly, your head falling back and eyes closing with a hum. "yeah i think my brains done for tonight, i've been reading the same page for like ten minutes." you sighed, feeling her lips press against your forehead.

"then come cook with me amore, please." the older girl requested softly, eyes staring down at you from where you sat at her desk. with a nod you allowed her to pull you up and into the kitchen with her.

"pizza?" you perked up recognizing the ingredients she'd laid out, smile curling onto your lips. "you said yesterday you felt like it." alessia pressed herself against you, hands on your hips as her chin rested on your shoulder.

"i love you." you sighed happily, craning your head back to kiss her cheek a few times, grin widening as a small blush settled on them. "i love you." alessia kissed you sweetly before moving away.

"you could help you know baby." your girlfriend quirked an eyebrow in amusement as she kneaded out the pizza dough, your eyes too busy fixated on her tattooed arms rippling as she did so. "i cut up the toppings." you defended, sipping on the glass of red wine she'd poured you.

"i bought most of them already chopped! come here." alessia laughed loudly and you melted at the sound, if it was the last thing you ever heard you'd die a happy woman. with a playful roll of your eyes you slid off the counter, leaving your wine behind as your girlfriend gestured you to stand in front of her.

settling herself behind you the taller girl grabbed your hands, mumbling instructions as she showed you how to roll out and stretch the dough.

"and then what's the most important thing?" alessia asked, watching on proudly as you followed her instructions. "not over kneading it?" you guessed, leaning back into her more as she shook her head.

"no. flour!" you coughed as suddenly a handful of flour smacked into your cheek. "alessia!" you yelled, the taller girl doubled over laughing at the large hand print on your face. "no don't you-" alessia warned as you grabbed your own handful of flour and tossed it in her direction, white flecks raining down all over her.

"okay okay enough! it looks like its been fucking snowing in here." alessia ceased fire after a few more minutes of the two of you racing around tossing flour.

you both sized one another up, alessia with two hand prints on the front of her shirt across her chest, you with a few littering your backside. "you started that." you grinned before she pulled you into a searing kiss, hands gently cradling your face as she poured every ounce of love she held for you into her affections.

"i started it but you're cleaning it."

~

"lessi do you even remember what all of these are? there's that many." you asked softly, sat on the back of your girlfriends thighs as she laid down on the lounge. you'd tugged her shirt up and left it resting on her neck, lovingly tracing the intricate ink which splayed across her back.

"of course. it's not like i blacked out when they were done love i know what's on my body." her body vibrated with a chuckle beneath yours, empty plates and glasses sitting abandoned on the coffee table. "you're running out of room!" you teased, bending to press a tender kiss on the back of her shoulder blades.

"it's fine, once my bodies full i still have yours to draw all over." alessia turned her head to grin up at you. "actually baby. can i draw something on you?" alessia asked curiously as you hesitated momentarily.

"with a pen, not my gun." she clarified as you nodded with a small smile, shuffling back off of her and allowing her to sit up. "okay wait here and take your top off please." your girlfriend ordered gently, pecking your lips and hurrying off to grab what she needed.

"what album gorgeous?" your lover called out, rifling through her record collection. "surprise me." you responded with a smile, hearing her hum and mumble to herself as she thought through her selections.

suddenly the soft voice of frank sinatra began to evade the apartment as you smiled, knowing the older girl was a sucker for old music. "can't beat the classics." she returned with a wink as you nodded approvingly at her choice.

"okay lay down please pretty girl." you did as your girlfriend asked, adjusting the pillow beneath your head as you felt her carefully straddle your backside. "lessi your hands are freezing!" you winced at her cold touch.

"sorry tesoro what was that?" she teased, running her hands up and down your bare sides as you squirmed beneath her, reaching round to pinch her thigh as she bent down to kiss your cheek apologetically.

you settled feeling the gentle touch of the marker on your shoulder blade, turning your head to the side and closing your eyes. you weren't sure how long you lay there but between the gentle music floating around the apartment coupled with your girlfriends warm lips kissing your skin every now and then, comforted by feeling her weight sat on top of you, you began to doze off.

though you couldn't quite fully succumb to sleep as you felt alessia's weight leave you as she stood, kissing your neck and requesting you continue to lay there as her footsteps padded away. you closed your eyes again but cracked one open with a frown as you felt a bright flash.

"no!" you groaned, your girlfriend standing above you with her polaroid in hand and a grin on her face. "yes. now roll over." she instructed with a flick of her hand. "you didn't draw anything there? and i've not got anything on." you reminded as the older girl shrugged.

"and? it's only for me baby." she pouted with a slight smirk, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as you flipped onto your back, covering your face with your hands as there was another flash. "really?" you peeked out from your hands feeling one of hers press possessively on your stomach, her rings cold against your skin as another flash sounded.

"okay. show me!" you tugged your top on and sat up, holding out your hand for the polaroids she took. "mmm no i think you can wait." alessia teased, holding the photos out of your reach. "give me them!" you sprang to your feet, hitting her and trying to grab the photos but she continued to hold them away from you.

"alessia if you drew something inappropriate on me i swear to-" you warned, cut off by your girlfriend smashing her lips to yours, the feverish kiss taking your breath away as her tongue swirled around your mouth and her teeth nipped teasingly at your bottom lip before she suddenly pulled away.

"here." she handed them over, moving to hug you from behind and rest her chin on your shoulder. "i'll take those, they're for my personal collection." she snatched the two of your bare chest from your fingers with a grin, slipping them into the waistband of her underwear.

"perv." you joked, bumping into her as you turned over the polaroid of your back, facial features softening as your eyes roamed the drawing of an intricate key down your spine.

"oh baby it's beautiful." you smiled, turning your head to smile up at the girl, frowning when she pushed you away and turned you around. "it's not just any key." she started, and you noticed she was holding something behind her back as she gestured for you to put your hands out.

your eyes widened as she placed a single golden key into your palm.

"move in with me?"

[pileofmush]

In the dead of night, he crawls into your bed. 

Your eyes flutter open, but you already know who it is, for you are intimately familiar with the pad of his feet against the carpet. With the dip of your mattress underneath his weight. With the sense of calm that washes over you whenever he graces you with his presence. And that’s the best way to describe whatever you and the sorcerer have going on. Intimate—and familiar. 

You never know how to categorize it when your friends ask. 

Not friend, nor foe. Maybe both. Or maybe something in between?

There’s a tug of war inside your brain that struggles between wanting to tangle your legs with his under the soft press of your duvet, and wanting to climb atop him, wrap your hands delicately around his neck, and squeeze.

Most nights with him, you do neither. Just lie flat and stare up at the peeling ceiling tile, just barely illuminated by the midnight glow of the moon streaming through your blinds.

Some nights, you do both. Yuuta never seems to mind, either way. Says he just wants to be near you, as he wraps his limbs around you and pulls you to him, snugly. You play dead; go limp in his arms and count the warm puffs of air against the back of your neck like sheep.

It’s not normal, you know.

But it works for the two of you.

It goes like this: Okkotsu Yuuta is a lonely, lonely man, with too much heart and not nearly enough sense. 

It goes like this: You want to crawl into his skin, make home inside his chest.

And that’s really all there is to it. 

Tonight, you sit up and turn on the lamp that sits on your nightstand, casting a muted yellow glow over your surroundings. You blink, rub your eyes, and lift your head in greeting. 

“Hey,” he whispers, black eyes roving over you curiously. He seems alright—whole—though his shoulders sag with an inconceivable weight, and his eyebags speak of many sleepless nights. “What are you still doing up?” Gesturing to the clock on your nightstand that reads 3 am.

You hum. Press your tongue against your teeth. “Waiting for you,” you say, candidly. You understand he's a busy man. That he has responsibilities—'missions', he calls them. But it’s been two weeks since he last visited you. Far too long since the last time. Not long enough. 

At your admission, Yuuta’s mouth melts into a cotton-candy smile. “I missed you, too.”

…

You hadn’t said all that, but you’ll allow it.

Yuuta’s hand slips under the covers, searching for yours, and gives a firm, quick squeeze. He pulls away, reaches behind him and pulls off his navy blue sweater—the soft, cashmere one that you said would look good on him one relaxed day at the mall. The ministrations expose the taut, pale sheen of his skin as the hem of his tee slides up, and you have to breathe deeply to ground yourself.

He folds the sweater in his lap while you push the covers back, then leans over you to set it on your nightstand. Something about him hovering over you flips a primal switch within you, and without thinking you flip it so that it’s him on his back and you leaning above him. Yuuta, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eye. Gets settled between your thighs and waits calmly for…

For you to inhale deeply; to breathe him in and try not to choke. His scent is a cloying, sickly sweetness. A poisonous flower, luring you to something sinister. Begging you to taste him and face the consequences.

It’s a sight to behold, his dark hair fanned out against your pillow, his darkening cheeks, and his dark, dark gaze that pins you in place. 

His hands rest on the back of your thighs, flexing assuredly, and your hands rest on his rising and falling chest, then slowly trail up, up, up, to his cheek, his jaw, his neck. You pinch his skin gently between your thumb and forefinger. Feel his pulse jump in his throat. 

He swallows, and you feel the lump of spit travel down his esophagus.

Intimate—and familiar. That’s what you are to Yuuta. Who else can say the same?

Not one. 

Your hands smooth down to his shoulders as you slowly bend to his ear. Goosebumps prickle across his flesh as you whisper, softly, “Text me the next time you’re going to be away this long.”

Yuuta’s shudder is sinful. 

“I won’t,” he croaks, then backtracks. “Take this long again. I promise.”

Your lips twist into a wry grin. “Good.”

ty for reading (๑´`๑)♡ for my lovely anon, rosie <3

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 3

A/N: I think reader is beginning to realise something was up with Azzie’s behaviour…

Apologies if you’re not a gold-jewellery person (I’m not either, don’t worry)

Warnings: general angst because you sickos love it for some reason (it’s affectionate, I swear), Pity Party by Melanie Martinez vibes, Elain, 5.6K words

-Part 2- -Part 4-

You keep your eyes shut, hoping to waste another few hours, sleeping.

You want this day to be over as quickly as possible. It could never go fast enough.

Twenty-two.

Once, it was a third of your life—a quarter, if lucky. Now it’s a mere spec. A pebble beside a milestone. What is twenty-two in the face of immortality?

Awareness zips across your skin, feeling the soft drag of cotton against your toes; the warm wrap of your nightdress against the backs of your thighs. Remember how fingertips felt scraping up the skin, and tuck beneath the duvet, curling into a tight ball. Seconds tick by, slow and painful, each dragging its feet through a swamp of mud, tip-tapping and traipsing their dirty boots through your mind. You won’t get back to sleep.

But you don’t move, either.

Weighted like a stone in bed, bones made of lead, pressing you into the mattress. Even your sheets feel like soft shackles, binding your body like fine rope. A silky cocoon of your own making.

The sun rays slide down the wall, slithering across the rug, finally extinguishing as midday dawns in the city. Still, you don’t move.

Sweat beads beneath your arms, trickling down to your elbows, gathering behind your knees, saturating the sheets, making them sticky. It’s not enough to make you shift. You remain lying in the puddle of discomfort.

You push deeper beneath the duvet, temperature rising as the cotton clings to your body, sticking to you when you move to roll over. Frustration bubbles, and fizzes, then tears drip down your cheeks. They roll back into your hair, falling into your ears, and you sob harder.

The imagined smell of clean pillows, and crisp sheets revolves in your mind, and still you stay. Living through fantasy, counting the seconds.

Afternoon hits, and you’re still in bed.

Rolled onto your stomach, salty water sliding down your under arms, you turn the page. The parchment is dry, leeching moisture from your fingertips, making them feel pruny. The tears start rolling again.

Evening begins, and you’re stomach sobs with you, gnawing on your bones, as though eating itself with hunger. Sweat has dried, leaving your skin clammy and suffocated. Finally the thoughts start rolling in. The humiliation of rejection further dampening your cheeks. Merely picturing hazel eyes… You shut the book, and struggle out of bed.

The sheets are indeed tangled, wrapping and binding your limbs to the point you simply drop to the floor, hitting the wood painfully, skull clunking as your elbow whacks the bed frame. You lie still for more minutes. Wallowing. Eventually drag yourself out of the mess.

First, open the curtains wider, taking in the orange and pinks of the sky, the full, billowing clouds fluffing the cobalt… Blue siphons glitter behind your eyes, water spilling as your lip wobbles. They blaze with vibrant fury, simmering with unfathomable darkness, and the curtains snap shut.

You remove your night dress, throwing it into the wicker basket, dragging yourself to the washroom as your head pulses and aches from lying down too long. Heat ravishes your skin, a fresh wave of sweat coating your body. Water washes over your back, pouring down your front, bathing you until clean. Not an ounce of grime left marring your body.

You try the windows again, the heavens filled with orange and blue, purply-greys rising with the oncoming night. How have you nearly slept away the day? And yet it’s still not over.

Voices echo from somewhere below you—the kitchen. You cover your face with your hands, exhaling heavily. They’re all there. All waiting just beneath you. Knees nearly buckle.

Heart spikes in your chest at the thought of…

Birthdays used to be wonderful, full of gifts and vibrant colours, smelling of fresh flowers and tasting syrupy and sweet. Now they’re wretched and dull, a pressure around your throat as another year ticks by and nothing’s changed. You’ve done nothing. Sat around, taking up space, draining money, expending resources. And nothing to say for it. Just a stack of books by your bed, selling second after second, minute after minute, draining the days away. Draining the years away.

Muscle trembles, bones crumbles as you land on the floor, curled into a ball before the mirror, unable to look at the waste you’ve become. Everything has a function, everything has some sort of purpose, some duty to fulfil, executing their actions with mechanical precision. Moving because they have to. It’s what they’re formed to do. Yet bring choice into the equation, and everything stops. It becomes unreliable, and uncertain. Unpredictable.

So much choice it’s overwhelming. So many pathways, so many decisions. So many conclusions. Everything would be so much simpler if will was subtracted from the sum. Leaving you with narrow walls to keep you on course, the gust of wind propelling you forward. Without those things, your actions are your own, and you’ve plummeted from the path.

Mind buzzes and whirrs, firing off thoughts and clipped phrases, one blending into another. Chaos and mess fusing in a liquid covalent bond, linking their talons through sinew and cartilage. Hooking into your brain. Ripping into the tissue. Licking their fingers clean.

Three knocks tap to your skull, tripping through cartilage, tumbling to stone.

“Hello?” You call, forcing your voice to be even. Balancing out waves, crests and troughs synchronising.

“Are you going to be up soon? I haven’t seen you all day!” Feyre.

You scowl, hunching over yourself, nails raking through your hair, pushing the dried tails from your face. “I’ve been up for a while,” you reply, shortly, “reading.”

“Well, we’re having dinner together tonight, and it’s nearly ready, so come down soon!” She calls back, and you can imagine the way her ear is inevitably pressed flat against the door. Busybody, like the rest of them.

When you don’t reply, she steps back, walking away down the hallway, returning to the kitchen where the laughter blares and bubbles.

You slump over, spilling across the floor as you lie, limp. Strength falling from your muscles, as though they’re delocalising from your flesh and bone. You imagine sinking your hands onto your thighs, how your meat would come apart like perfectly prepared pulled pork. How your gluons would simply release; allow you to dissolve onto someone’s plate, drowned in gravy and dusted with rosemary.

Thoughts ebb and flow, trickling through your conscious like thickened cake batter over the edge of a mixing bowl, dripping from the table to splatter on the floor. Only to be wiped away seconds later, cleanly obliterated. Tiny explosions blow behind your eyelids, prickling until salt stings and spills.

The sun sinks, darkness settling like a veil over the city, horizon dimming to deeper, inky greys. Shoulders ache, bones grinding against one another, catching muscle and flesh between them. Still you lie, unmoving. Light, shallow breaths evenly dripping from your lips.

Another set of knocks in the same cadence. “Food’s ready!” She calls. The words thud dully in your ears, landing at the dried up base of the well. Prevented from settling deeper. “Will you be down soon?” She asks hopefully, voice blaring through your carefully cultivated silence. “Be down soon,” you call back, letters automatic and mechanical. Precise and unthinking. Words lilt and inflect, while your features remain stiff, eyes unseeing as they stare out.

She traipses away again.

Your mind falls back to sleep.

Tumbling through portals, falling into vortexes, tripping down tunnels. Flying through secret hatches in time, spilling across horizons and shooting up, up, up into the atmosphere.

Thoughts waver and crumble, disintegrating into galaxy coloured sprays of starlight, swirling and exploding like the movement of the Starry Night. Feyre had showed you that one, once.

When was the last time you’d had time to spend with any of them, individually? Now with Nyx around, her attention is spread thin. Navigating wife, sister, and mother. High Lady, too.

Mother, Wife, High Lady. Then Sister.

Maybe you were being harsh on her. After all, what do you know about having so many roles to play? Having achieved all those titles, fulfilled each one and continuing to do so while avoiding jeopardising another. Would you be able to handle what she does? A year younger than you. Already with a husband and a child. A whole Court at her fingertips.

Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?

You blink, his voice ringing in your mind.

Is that how you’ve come to preoccupy yourself? Complaining about her success? What happened to being happy for her achievements? To being proud of your sister? At what point had it become a competition?

When had you started comparing yourself to them?

A stone sinks in your gut, plummeting through your stomach, dropping to your toes. Do you really fill your time by examining them? Analysing their relationships, dissecting their dynamics?

Go on, he’d said. Go on and tell me why I’m undeserving of her.

It had really come out so wrong. You hadn’t even planned on confessing to him. Had planned to keep it all to yourself. To wallow and drown, quietly, in your own secret corner.

You think you’re deserving of me?

He replays on an invisible symphonia, spinning through your world, making you dizzy as the sound whirls.

You think you’re deserving of me?

I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.

Well done. Just open up your chest for him. Hand perfectly poised to pull your life’s muscle from your ribs. Instead he’d left it intact, an open wound to fester and turn gangrenous over time. To scar, deeply. To burn and burrow its way into your marrow. To turn bone deep, so you can begin to understand what you’d struck at.

You’d be better off turning your damn affections somewhere they’d actually be appreciated.

If you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest.

How quickly the conversation had turned sour. How quickly it had flown off the pathway. How quickly blades had been drawn, poison tipped arrows fired.

At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed.

I doubt you can say the same.

A triptych of knocks lands on your door, making you flinch.

“Are you still coming down?” Feyre calls, “the food’s going to start getting cold!”

It takes a moment for your limbs to unfreeze, unstick themselves from your mind’s trap. “I’m—…” You’re not going down there. Not into that room, filled with so many people. She calls your name, a little confusion shining through, dragging you from your haze.

“I’m getting tired, Fey,” you manage back, not quite disguising the bone-deep fatigue that’s riddling your body. “I think I’m just going to go to bed,” you call.

“Oh…” she sounds surprised. A little crestfallen. “Are you sure? I mean, I haven’t seen you in a while, and we’re all down there, so…it would be nice. To spend time with you.”

You’re quiet, unable to formulate an appropriate response. You can hear her hesitating, too.

Then. “Can I come in?” She asks softly.

You freeze up, taking in your state. Clean, but messy. A few too many things out of place to be okay. Before you can skilfully deny her, she continues on. “I—… There are some things I want to ask you about.”

Her voice is soft, and quiet. Navigating High Lady and sister. Maybe you don’t give her enough credit. Then again, she should obviously be playing your sister right now.

“Let me put some more clothes on,” you respond with, swallowing as you get to your feet, picking up a few books here and there; grabbing your sheets to return them to the bed. Quickly, you shuck on a dress, tying your hair back into a neat-ish knot. “Okay,” you call, “I’m dressed.”

The door swings open, and her eyes scan the room, darting about before settling on you. She’s dressed nicely—she’s always dressed nicely. Whether it’s a jumper and slippers, or some kind of gown, she always looks lovely. Disgustingly put together. “What is it?” You ask, feigning sleepiness.

She shrugs casually, closing the door behind her. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” she explains, walking over to your bed. “Can I sit down?” You nod in response, then hesitate. “Maybe take the chair. It was boiling last night.” Her lips lift, a faint smile on her mouth, blue-grey eyes sparkling, “it was, wasn’t it? Rhys is going to show me how to put a temperature-maintaining ward around our bedroom. Nyx severely dislikes the heat.” Her voice lilts with laughter, and it’s easy to forget what she’s gone through. So easy to disregard every bloodied fragment when you see that smile.

“So?” She asks, conversationally. “How have you been?” You wince and her brow dips almost imperceptibly, “I really want to go to bed.”

“Oh.” She blinks. Nods slowly. “Okay.” She seems slightly upset at your not-so-subtle dismissal. At least it was gentle.

Feyre stands, runs her eyes over the stacks of books beside your bed, “have you read all these?” A heavy sigh blows from your chest, posture dissipating as your spine slouches, “Feyre…”

“Right. Yes. If you’re sure,” she says, watching you carefully. Intently. Eyes sharp. “I’m very sure,” you reply, managing a weak smile, hoping fatigue will cover for you.

She nods then, heading for the door. She stops, and you nearly groan.

“It wouldn’t…I mean, would it help if there were less of us?” She asks slowly. This time, you do groan. “Oh my gods, Feyre. I am tired. Please let me sleep.”

“So you’re not coming down at all? Even just s few minutes? Be with everyone for a bit?” She pushes, and irritation bubbles in your chest. You want to be done with this conversation. You don’t deign her with an answer. You’ve said what you want to, you’re not going to repeat yourself.

“If Azriel wasn’t there…” she says softly, taking a hesitant step toward you. You stiffen, blood freezing. “What do you mean.”

Feyre blows out a breath, brushing down her top, smoothing the nonexistent creases. “I’m not blind,” she murmurs, eyes latching onto you. “You’ve been off these past few days, and Elain—”

“What did Elain say?” You ask, skin leeching of warmth. Feyre pauses, watching you quietly. “Feyre,” you say, a little surprised at her hesitance. “If Elain said something, it’s fair for me to know.”

She sighs again, “I need you to be calm. I don’t want to argue with you. Not today. Not any other day, but particularly not today.”

“Sure. That’s why you brought this up when I’m obviously tired and irritable,” you shoot back.

She just observes you steadily, unfaltering. It makes you want to shift, and fidget. “Tell me what she said. I’ll be calm,” you say, finally, quieter than before. Still, she’s silent. Watching, weighing, judging. Busybody.

Finally, she opens her mouth, and her words nearly knock you off your feet. “She saw you in the library. Heard what you said to him.”

The floor opens up beneath you, and you spiral down. She heard your conversation with Azriel.

The nosey bitch. She had no right to pry like that. And then to bring it to your sister. The youngest of all of you.

How much more humiliation do you have to take?

“She what?” You whisper, unable to speak through your anger and hurt. Feyre gives you that look again, calming, steady, scolding. “You said you’d be calm,” she reminds, quietly. “Please keep your voice down.”

“That was none of her business!” You explode, voice raising as your hands scrunch into fists, sorrow giving way to rage. “And none of yours either, High Lady.” You spit out the title, so betrayed, and confused, you begin to switch off. It’s none of their business. They’re your emotions. Yours. Not things to be traded, and gossiped about. To be tossed around over some family dinner.

“I’m worried about you,” she says, brows curving with concern. “We all struggled with the cauldron. We struggled through the war, and everything that came after. But you’ve never shown any signs to warrant anxiousness.” Pain glimmers in her eyes, watching you steadily from across the room. Your room.

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” you bite back. “Don’t use it as an excuse to stick your nose into my life like that. It is my life.” Your voice wobbles, but remains strong, blaring through the space. “What happened between me and him is none of your concern. My relationship with Elain is none of your concern. Stop trying to find an issue with me. Something for you to fix, and put back together, so I can become part of your pretty, perfect family, too.” You nearly shout the end, vision blurring around the edges.

She blanches a little, “you need to quiet down. I will not be shouted at. You’re a grown woman, you can talk to me like one.”

“Treat me like one!” You nearly scream back, tears spilling. Her brows knot together, looking confused and disappointed. “I act, just like you,” you cry. “I’ve dealt with my own issues. I’ve kept them to myself. I’ve made. sure. not to be a burden. To you, or to anyone.” The words spill out, one after another. Brutal, and jagged in the light.

“I’ve been as cooperative as I can, I give answers if I have them, and I look for them if I don’t,” you sob, thinking of all the times he’d asked a question about Elain, so you’d repeated them back to her, stealing that information back for him. “I’ve never gone mute like Elain, I never sparked up like Nesta, I never spiralled into a depression like you. I kept myself intact. All by myself. And yet I’m the one everyone treats like a girl?” You shake as you cover your face with trembling hands, a small crack finally appearing in the damn you’ve been consistently reinforcing.

You push away your tears, trying to shut off the waterworks, finally meeting her glazed eyes. They clear when they realise you’re watching her.

“I can manage what happens between Azriel and me. It’s my business,” you repeat, the odd tear spilling as your lip wobbles. “I know I’m nothing compared to Elain. I know Mor would outshine me if I were next to her,” you cry, breaths heaving in and out in frenzied, uneven pants. Feyre’s eyes glimmer with pain, and she steps closer, arms widening a little. A silent offer. You ignore it.

“I know he doesn’t—” A sob cuts you off, lungs spasming as more walls break down, dissolving with the torrent you’ve kept at bay. Your shoulders hunch, eyes squeezing shut as you bite your lip.

“Nobody ever does,” you cry, softly, wrapping around yourself, back curving as you fold in on yourself. “He doesn’t even—… He’s never asked anything about me, but he knew…” I’m never the first choice.

Maybe the competition had been going on for longer than you’d realised.

Your voice grows softer, and her shoulders loose their tension, silence stretching through the room. Utter, devastating silence.

Not even a single, muffled laugh.

Your heart drops, stomach rising up into your throat.

You take a step forward, eyes wide.

Then vanish.

You reappear exactly one floor below, the silence not fitting in with a group of eight preternaturally still bodies. Seven pairs of eyes turn to you, filled with guilt. Almost instinctually, you seek out the darkest corner of the room, hazel piercing into you. Sharp and accusing.

You stumble under its intensity, flicking between the remaining pairs of eyes that seem to be pulling away from you. Lips part is surprise, flitting from violet, to grey-blue, to cocoa, returning to hazel.

“Good evening entertainment, huh?” You whisper, lips trembling. You don’t even know who to look at.

The High Lord opens his mouth, but Nyx begins screaming, shrill and cutting in the quiet.

Your jaw snaps shut, comprehending what just happened.

A heavy breath of air puffs from your lips, before you winnow yourself back upstairs.

Feyre’s already given you your privacy by the time you return.

————

A clock chimes somewhere in the house. Three in the morning.

The forced laughter and quiet shuffling of people had vanished around one. Two hours ago. Your stomach growls in the darkness.

How long has it been since you last ate?

You shake your head, not caring. You’re hungry, so you’ll get food.

On quiet feet, you pad into the hallway, peering both ways before tiptoeing down the corridor, listening for the sound of movement. Nothing. Silently, you descend the stairs, walking along another corridor that leads you to the kitchen. Stop in the doorway.

A cake lies on the table in the living room—adjoined to the kitchen. A polite pile of presents is stacked neatly beside it, a dull ache pressing down on your chest. Even from across the room, you can make out the pretty details. The pure white fondant, the foundations to the wobbly yellow and orange marigolds made from icing sugar, royal blue frosting squiggling the boarder, artfully dripping down the edges, like tears spilling over.

Stepping closer, the flaws become apparent, clearly decorated by people unaccustomed to creating cake toppings. The uneven petals, a dash of light blue marring the white fondant, the obvious blending point between yellow and orange. You wonder how long it took the three of them.

Sighing, you take a seat around the table, a single candle magically appearing and lighting atop it. You murmur thanks to the house, take a deep breath, and sharply puff the air out. It extinguishes instantly. Smoke drifts up in shadowy strings, the red ember winking out, and you pull the candle from the cake. A small knife appears at your side, and you cut a small chunk from its centre, getting the better part of a marigold at its tip.

It’s good—not too sweet, not too dry. Has weight to it, pleasantly spongy. The flavour lovely and—

Your vision blurs as you taste the vanilla, tiny pockets of jam infused throughout the cake. It’s the same as the recipe Elain practiced in cupcake form for a month. Practiced and persisted endlessly. Sampled until you both deemed it perfect.

No, you don’t forgive her for eavesdropping, for tattling to your sister, for being the reason the whole family now knows about your messy rejection. How unappealing you are. But she’d made this perfect for you, had practiced this recipe to death…and it counts for something.

You finish off the slice, ignoring the slight salty flavour that occasionally dripped over your lips, choosing to focus on the taste of the bespoke cake, instead.

Sitting a while in silence, thinking about everything that’s happened, you put it aside. Shift awkwardly toward the neat stack. Almost immediately drawn to the small royal blue gift box. It fits in your palm and you don’t need to read the note to know who it’s from. A tule bow is tidily pressed on the lid, shifting through vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

It is stupid to be excited for his present?

You bite your lip, and shakily remove the top, peering down at the deep blue, satin cushion. A fearful smile lifts the edges of your mouth—disbelieving.

Inside the petite box, nestled within the plush pillow, are a pair of pearl earrings. They’re fashioned into small tear-drop like stones, golden hooks appearing at their crest. You pull them carefully from the cushion, holding them up in the moonlight, staring in wonder. They’re simple, yet elegant. An understated, subtle kind of beauty. The kind you only notice when you look closely.

You admire them for minutes, before raising them to your ears, neatly sliding them into the tiny holes. A comfortable weight, fun to play with, and tug on. You’re already in a better mood than when you came down here, a quiet smile on your lips as you remember their pretty shine.

Moving onto the next one, you begin filing through the gifts: A romance book from Nesta; from anyone else, it would have been obnoxious and self-centred, but you know how much she adores those books, and wants you to experience their happiness.

From Feyre, a miniature painting: Starfall rendered in blues, yellows, and oranges, in place of the irradiated greens and iridescent golds.

A silver embossed bookmark from Rhysand (spelled so you’ll never loose or misplace it, he’d written), making you smile.

From Cassian, necklace, a circular glass pendant hanging on the bronze chain. Peering into the glass, you can make out a small map of the world, containing the courts, the continent, and Hybern. Stretching down to the Mortal Lands too—acknowledging your past.

A small pot of crimson nail polish from Mor, coupled with a pink lipstick, making you laugh quietly. Attached is note saying she owes you a shopping trip—promising not to hijack it for clothes; to let you wonder about the various book stores.

And a 10,000 piece jigsaw from Amren—you can hear the challenge radiating from her as you pull the ribbon away.

All wonderful; all thoughtful. The seven pairs of guilty eyes that had been listening out of concern.

You rest your face in your hands, unable to resolve their opposites. The eavesdropping, but the clear attention they’ve all paid. Even if you’re in Rhys’ Inner Circle, you’d always thought you were somewhere measuring the circumference. Apparently they disagreed. You’re just as at its centre as they are.

Hot, wet droplets splash onto the wooden table, and you sniff quietly, taking long minutes to expel the sadness from behind your eyes. Finally, once they’ve dried, you reach toward Elain’s present. You’re not sure you want to see what’s inside, with how complicated your relationship has become. Still, you pull the lilac bow loose, raising the lid from the box. You stand up to look what’s contained within.

Your eyes bulge from their sockets, jaw dropping open as you see what’s inside. Slowly, carefully, you raise the mechanism from the padded inside of the box, setting it reverently on the table. Only then do you allow your hands to shake.

Sat politely before you, is an orrery.

Fingers tremble as you touch one of the planets, pushing it gently. When it moves, the cogs at its base align with one another, clicking together as each of the globes move harmoniously, spinning at their assigned paces. You wonder how accurate the spin is, what machinery they’ve used to delve so far into the universe. How wonderful it must be to live and explore.

Tears splash onto the table as you stare at the contraption. So incredible, rendered with such loving care you could cry. You are crying.

You peer closely, picking out the planet you’re on, how the world is carved into it: the land, the equator, no split lying between the previous human and faerie realms—the wall now gone. You thumb at the other spheres, staring with wide eyes as you trace small indentations made in their surface, peering and spinning the moons that rotate each. It’s utterly breathtaking; you have to blink away more wetness.

Seconds tick by, minutes draining in the blink of an eye. A clock chimes four in the morning and you’re still studying the mesmerising mechanism. How many centuries of research have created the stunning contraption? How many people dedicated their lives to discover the knowledge that is now rendered so extraordinarily before you? The detail is mind blowing, the loving rendition of the solar system, sitting on the table in a kitchen. Absolutely incredible.

You scan the array of gifts—the thoughtfulness and care that has gone into each and every one. The attention, the affection. All pieces of yourself, like looking at tiny fragments of your soul.

Muscles stiffen, eyes flicking to the empty, deep blue box. The royal blue cushion that you’d smiled so widely at. How giddy you’d been. It shrivels and warps besides the other gifts, an insult to compare them. While their gifts are clearly bespoke; unique; picked out with you in mind, the pearls…

Sorrow flushes your cheeks as you thumb free the earrings, staring at the demure jewellery. Beautiful, feminine, expensive…

Painfully generic.

A final smack in the face.

“You’re awake.”

Eyes flick up to meet cocoa. Lashes damp. Pearls tucked back in their box.

Elain walks forward on silent feet, gliding across the floor until she’s the other side of the table. Her eyes flick down to the cake, and a faint smile appears on her lips, “you had a slice.” She smoothes down her skirts, elegantly descending into a seat, “happy birthday.”

Pressure heats behind your eyelids, vision blurring, then spilling over. You bury your face in your hands as you sob, teeth biting into your lip as you try to quiet them, attempting to stop the cries that are leaking. You sniff, rubbing your skin until it feels raw. Hot and irritated from brushing tears away. Elain sits quietly, waiting for you to ready.

Once the sobs have dulled enough, you dry your eyes once more, looking at her. “Why did you tell Feyre?” You manage, throat wet, voice a little nasally from crying. Nose blocked. “Why did you listen?”

“She was worried. She asked about you, and I mentioned you’d seemed startled finding me and him in the library,” she answers calmly.

“It was none of your business,” you moan quietly, brushing away more tears. “You had no right to eavesdrop on us like that.”

Elain’s brow furrows, “I didn’t eavesdrop. All I heard were the things you said to him while I was in the room.”

You blink once. Twice.

She sighs. “I left as soon as I was out. You were in need of privacy.”

“But Feyre said you saw…what happened in the library,” you stumble, unable to bring yourself to say his name. “I did see you in the library. When you came in. And then I left.”

You blink again.

She hadn’t heard anything you and Azriel had said to one another. That was why he’d looked so accusatory. You’d gone and opened your mouth while everyone was listening. And your reaction…it didn’t make him look good.

Tears spill again as you bury your head in your hands. Shoulders shake and heave with sobs, hot liquid running between your fingers as they splash into the pool on the wooden table. He’s probably furious with you for being so oblivious. He would have noticed immediately. You cry harder.

A hand lands gently at your back, rubbing in soothing patterns. Staying beside you until you calm down. “I’m sorry…” you cry weakly, voice rasping in the silence. “I’m so sorry, ‘Lain. I thought… I’m so sorry…” Tears drip-drop steadily, but you regain control of your voice. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, and you feel her slide into the chair beside you. How long has it been since one of you cried in front of the other, unprompted? You can’t remember.

Maybe that’s what has you standing from your seat, pulling Elain with you as you cry into her. She’s stiff for a moment, then her arms slide over your shoulders, your own wrapping around her back, allowing the tears to pour. The world naturally leaning toward chaos.

After what feel like forever, you step away, drying your eyes once more.

“How are you feeling?” She asks gently, hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Better,” you sniff, managing to keep your eyes dry. They’re going to puff up badly, though. You snivel again, pushing the loose hairs from your face, wet with tears. “Thank you for the orrery,” you manage, softly. “Really. It’s so… I can’t even begin to explain how incredible it is. How great a gift it is. Thank you.” You hope you can at least begin to have her understand how much you love it through the sincerity in your voice. So she can hear it, even if you can’t explain it.

She smiles faintly. “I’m happy you’re happy.” It’s so Elain you nearly start crying again. “Nuan made it—she’s very skilled in her work.”

Nuan, who’d created Lucien’s eye. She must have…

Her eyes flick away for a moment, as if reading the question in your gaze, but return. “He and I… Things aren’t as tense as they once were. We’re… We’re doing better.” You stare at her, lips parted.

So she’s no longer after Azriel.

A wave of horror crashes over you as you comprehend the thought. Repeat it in your brain. Subconsciously, she’d been your saboteur. You’d seen her as competition, convinced you had to be better to keep his attention. How infatuated you’d become.

Two years you’d wanted him. Two years of late night thoughts, secret wishes, and strict obedience to him. Two years of living for someone else.

Such an idiot.

You’d been so happy to give as much as you could. To be as compliant and accommodating as possible. And he had fully taken advantage of that.

How much more is there for you to realise about him?

How much further does this have to go?

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

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[allysunny]

(You're my) Antidote | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ² | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ³

Synopsys: Carrying Miguel's child was the best thing that happened to you. It meant he loved you and you two were on your way to start a family. But what you don't see, are the brightly coloured screens in his office that tell him you are slowly dying.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, soft-Miguel, pain and screaming? Syringes. Do mention if I forgot something!

A/N: Hey everyone! This isn't the super long 6+ word oneshot I promised - I'm still working on that one, I want to perfect it as best as possible. So in the meantime, have another little drabble I came up with! Now that I read it a second time, it is reminding me of Twilight omg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I may make a part 2 if people want, who knows. I hope you like it!

Miguel opened the door of your shared home as quietly as he could – he didn’t want to disturb you, should you be asleep. It seemed to be what you did the most these past few days, getting some much-deserved rest. And how could Miguel blame you?

In fact, he was the one who suggested you being on bedrest, the idea of you walking around making any kind of effort enough to put him on edge, and worried enough to call you every 5 minutes to make sure you were okay. Not that he didn’t do it when you were resting, he simply waited longer intervals before checking on you.

He took off his shoes and walked to the only source of sound present in the entire apartment.

The duvet of your bed was carefully folded by your feet, and you had nothing but a silk nightgown covering your body. The moment Miguel walked inside the bedroom and laid eyes upon this sight, his usual frown was replaced by a gentle smile, the lines around his eyes softening, giving you a look he did not dare give anyone else but you.

You looked up at him, able to sense his presence the moment he walked inside the apartment. You’d gotten fairly good at that, detecting when he got home, especially because you were by yourself at most times and longed for company. So, you just mastered the art of telling when your sweet husband came to you.

“Honey,” you said, grinning. The hands that were neatly folded on top of your (very) pregnant belly, coming up to touch him. His own reached out, and, upon holding yours with the softest grip, and placed a kiss on top of each. Then, like it was second nature, he kneeled down and kissed your belly tenderly, still rubbing circles on the palm of your hand. His hands were rough, calloused, and he loved the contrast and warmth your untainted ones provided. It was as if, it didn’t matter if he was all beat up, battered black and blue, as long as you remained as you were: untainted, safe, pure.

Miguel dropped your hands and lifted his face to get a good look at you. And the sight before him took his breath away and broke his heart all at once. You were gorgeous, marvellously so. But your energy was slowly being drained, exhausting your beauty along with it. Bright eyes weren’t so bright anymore, hollow cheekbones, big bags under your eyes.

The baby was taking a toll not only on your physique but also your health. And much unfortunately, it was slowly taking over your life. Miguel had kept it a secret from you, quietly going from and to the Spider Society HQ to meet with Jessica and Lyla and find out ways to keep you healthy and safe, but much unfortunately, time was running out.

“Miguel, you can’t keep doing this. You’re exhausting yourself and wasting precious time you should be spending with your wife.” Jessica berated him, hands neatly crossed over her chest. She had been scowling at Miguel for a few minutes now, trying to make him see reason.

He grumbled something under his breath and all but growled, tapping away at his screens.

“How are her vitals?” His voice was dark. It did not sound like Miguel, not at all, rather, a creature of heartbreak and darkness, hunting for something.

“They haven’t been stable for a while; the antidote is wearing out.” The antidote, the very same antidote he himself took. Miguel had made a few alterations to it. Your baby had unfortunately inherited his 50% Spider DNA, and it was causing you tons of discomfort. No longer able to walk or stand by yourself, you needed Miguel by your side at all times to aid you. This modified antidote was created to calm your baby down and restrain his spider abilities. Miguel didn’t tell you, but the sheer force of the child could easily break you in two. That’s why he had been spending countless nights awake, researching ways to get the baby out of you without causing you any more pain.

And while it was sweet that all he wanted was to find a cure, time was running out and you had been seeing him less and less.

Miguel shakes these thoughts away.

It’ll all be worth it once the baby’s born and you go back to normal. The pain you felt now would be worth it, for you two would finally have the family you always wanted.

“Get me more of it,” He grumbled, looking into the properties of the liquid he injected into himself every few hours. Miguel hated that he had to do the same for you, but it was the only way to keep the baby quiet and asleep.

“Miguel, the serum is slowly killing her.” This time it was Lyla who spoke, holographic figure gleaming before his eyes with a stern look. She might only be a program, but it was not like she was going to watch as Miguel once more blinded himself and lost everything. “The baby is growing immune to it, and-“

“Then make it stronger.”

“Making it stronger will only hurt [Y/N] further!”

There was no way to win.

If he strengthened the remedy, you would grow weaker. But there was no way he could sit by and watch as his child slowly killed the woman he loved.

This universe wasn’t helping in any way, with no technological or scientifical advances being enough to help you.

He would have to look elsewhere.

“Are you gonna be home for the rest of the day?” You asked him, weak-looking hand cupping his jaw and caressing his short stubble. Was it just you, or your Miggy was getting careless? He always shaved neatly, the way he knew you liked. This was unlike him. And his eyes… He looked so tired. “You look like you could use some rest.”

“Yeah, cariño,” He responded in the softest voice possible. Your Miguel was all assertiveness and control and professionalism, and you adored it, truly. But it was such a blessing seeing him like this, soft and sweet and truly yours. Little lines formed alongside his eyes as he sighed contentedly, head bending down to press soft kisses alongside your neck. “Finally home.”

Giggling, you turned (or at least did your best to) to your husband.

He on his hand refused to face you, head dropping lower and lower, lips following your exposed shoulder and leaving soft marks on your collarbone.

It felt cozy and intimate and oh so very domestic – all you ever wanted for your life with Miguel. He’d been working long hours lately. Leaving at the crack of dawn and returning when you were long asleep. That was no way to live, and you had pleaded for very long for him to stay home for once.

“How are you feeling?” Was asked against your shoulder, featherlike lips trailing the skin. “Have you eaten, cariño? You know you need to…”

You nodded proudly at him, placing one hand on your stomach once more. You still couldn’t believe you were going to be a mother. The day you found out was the happiest of your life, a close second to the day you married Miguel. “I’m fine,” you told him, “The baby’s been asleep for most of the day. And yes, I have eaten. And quite a lot, might I add, you’d be proud.”

Miguel lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you from hooded eyes.

“I’m always proud of you, you know that.” He mumbled and nuzzled your nose with his, a gesture he did when he felt particularly soft and in love. Before you could chase his lips with your own, agony surged through your body, and ache engulfed your entire being.

You let out a blood curdling scream and doubled over your stomach, hands instinctively wrapping around it, as if protecting it from harm. But what harm? Your baby was the one causing the excruciating pain, not the other way around. Still, you protectively held it.

“[Y/N]!” Miguel shouted, heartbroken. His baby was causing you pain. Again.

As the baby stirred and stirred, you felt the pain seize every single one of your muscles, leaving you momentarily paralysed. The sharp throbs that came from your belly felt like relentless waves crashing against your core, rendering you unable to move. You breathed shallowly, gasping as you clutched your abdomen and cried.

Your husband did not hesitate. He made his way to the living room and returned to you quickly, bright syringe in his hand. You would’ve pleaded against it if you could. The shots of the antidote were getting worse, getting stronger, hurting you more and more as time went by. You hated it. And yet, you’d go through the pain time and time again if it meant your baby would be safe inside it. According to Miguel, it was a simple sedative, and you trusted him.

Taking your arm in his, Miguel prepared the syringe, abstaining himself from your horrible screams. He breathed in deeply – unbeknownst to you, this wasn’t the serum he usually gave you, the one he administered nearly every night. No, this was a different concoction, something created far away, in another universe. He had no idea if it would work – for all he knew, this new cure could harm you, could make you deteriorate quicker.

But he had to try.

He injected the syringe in your arm, and you squealed, head throwing back as tears streamed down your face. Once all the toxin was flowing in your blood, he held you tightly, kissing your face and head repeatedly, whispering “It’s alright, it’s okay, I’m here, cariño…” Until you quieted down. The sight before him was terrifying, and his eyes widened. Surely it was too soon for the remedy to affect you. And was that…? No. No, no, it was impossible, it couldn’t be-

And then, slowly, your breathing evened out. Your sobs turned into silent tears, and you laid back against the headboard. You sniffled a few times, wiped your tears and turned to face Miguel. “Thank you…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. “I… I guess our baby heard you and wanted to express how happy it was to see you…”

It was like you, to see the bright side of things, to consider this a blessing rather than a curse. Miguel adored that about you, how could be so positive, even when the darkness seemed to be too much to bear. Even when the creature you called your child was slowly killing you from the inside out.

He stood up, holding your hand for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“Stay here, I’ll get you something to eat.” Miguel kissed the top of your head and took one good look at you, taking you all in. Beautiful, lovely, sickly, weak, frail, feeble, debilitated. Oh how he wished he could do something other than inject some stupid antidote into your blood. But he was working on it.

Miguel walked towards the kitchen, and closed the door behind him, mind racing, heartbeat quickening, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

He had seen you glitch.

A/N: That's it! Shorter than Holo Heart for sure. I don't know if I should write a Part 2, but meanwhile, I'll finish the long ass draft that's been haunting my dreams. I hope you are all well! <3

[ferrstappen]

hi!!! could you write something about max and reader dating and its winter break and reader gets sick. basically its just cute fluff of max taking care of her. thank you <333

this is great because its cold af (where I live) and I'm sick (both physically and mentally <3)

chicken soup l Max Verstappen blurb

You denied it.

Your brain tried denying the swelling of your throat, the heaviness of your limbs, the dizziness.

It made sense after visiting Max's family during winter break; one of the kids was sick, which meant Victoria woke up with a runny nose, Sophie with a headache, telling you and Max to go back home a bit earlier since neither Max nor you had any symptoms.

If only... the moment the small plane landed in Nice, your legs carried you to the tiny restroom, emptying your stomach, your head was spinning so bad you didn't notice Max holding your hair and rubbing circles on your back. at least, the best he could on the restricted space.

It didn't take two seconds when his phone vibrated, his sister letting him know the kids were now nauseous and dizzy.

No shit.

Max drove slower than usual, not wanting the bumps on the road to upset your head or stomach, constantly turning his head to see your eyes closed, breathing not so smoothly.

In his head, he made a plan for everything he'd do once they got home: ask if you wanted to take a shower, helping you change, choosing the best pajamas, defrosting some chicken so he could make you soup, remembering if any of you had bought some chamomile tea.

That's exactly what he did. You probably weren't aware you leaned on Max after getting out of the car, your body touching the bed and falling asleep in minutes.

It was dark when you woke up, head still pounding, forehead still warm, throat still closed, but the smell of soup was enough to drag your feet from the bedroom to the kitchen.

It was empty, no sight of Max, but a tray was already arranged with a bowl and his not-so-secret mix of green tea, honey and lemon, just a couple of teaspoons he always said, so the lemon wouldn't be too harsh, just enough to soothe the pain.

You could cry from the sight of everything Max did in a short amount of time, now you were realizing you weren't wearing the jeans and cardigan, but fluffy white pajama pants and oversized, navy blue Red Bull hoodie with his scent.

Then, you heard his voice. He was speaking with someone else, probably streaming or something, but the need to thank him was enough to open the door and carefully walking towards his seat, making sure to not show on the camera frame.

Pssst.

His head turned around and his eyes softened, arms reached for you instantly, making space so you could seat on his lap, your legs dangling over his legs and your face hidden on his face.

user1: i am so soft for them like... she is wearing red bull merch and he instantly reached out for her

user2: does he realize he's muted but still streaming???

user3: HE IS PLACING HER HAIR UNDER HER EAR I AM SO DONE WHEN IS IT MY TURN?????!!!!

"How are you feeling, schatz?" Max placed his hand on your forehead, forehead wrinkling after noticing it was still warm.

"I'm better, but you are definitely getting sick as well," You replied and Max laughed, body slightly shivering from the feeling of your breath on his neck.

"Good thing there's soup for both of us," Max kissed the top of your hair, telling you he was going to say goodbye and end the stream.

He didn't pay attention to the comments or anything, just unmuting himself and saying goodbye, carrying you to the bedroom and placing you on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before going to the kitchen.

"No, stay here," you told him, almost sounding like a toddler, even stretching your arms so he'd join you. "We can have soup later, when after your stomach starts feeling funny"

Max found his usual spot on the bed, letting his body cover yours from behind, trying to keep you as warm as possible, tightly gripping the duvet, noticing the little hairs standing up with the familiar feeling of his breathing on your neck.

He was definitely getting sick, but it'd be worth it.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Better?

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [0.8K]

Eddie’s bedroom was a lavender blue haze in the night. The shadows were only and the streetlight that managed to leak in from behind the curtains was a tangerine, barely illuminating the lumps and bumps of legs and hips under the duvet.

You watched the hours tick by, Eddie’s beside clock mocking as the red numbers changed over. It seemed an impossible task, falling asleep. You weren’t sure why, it could’ve been a number of things, really. Our impending exams, college applications, the fact that your boyfriend had only just been exonerated from first degree murder charges.

Ironically, the boy in question was asleep beside you, bare chested and warm, leaning into your side in a way that was soothing, but steady up and down of his chest still wasn’t enough to pull you into a sleep.

You shuffled, winced when the bed creaked, and tried to find a spot on the pillow that would be the comfiest. Everything smelled like Eddie, his cologne, his laundry detergent, a little smoke and spice. It was easier to push your head to his shoulder, sneaking the chance to press a little kiss to the exspanse of his throat, hopefully without waking him up.

It was a little selfish but it calmed you, the way you could feel his pulse jump a little under your lips. But the boy stirred, mumbling a little, his body turning and seeking out your own even half asleep. His hands found your waist under the sheets, fumbling to push under your shirt - his shirt - for bare skin. He hummed, pulling you into him as his eyes fluttered open.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie mumbled, voice deep and scratchy, his lips brushing over your forehead as he curled into you.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him you hadn’t managed to sleep in the first place, the clock telling you it was nearing half past two. So you hummed back and let him hold you, a warm, wide hand tracing patterns over your spine, guitar string callouses catching at you and making you shiver.

You weren’t sure how he knew. Maybe it some kinda magic, some soulmate thing, maybe Eddie could just feel the way you held yourself too stiffly in his arms, unable to relax no matter how hard you tried. So he pulled back from where his nose was pushed into your hair, eyes a little blurry and his curls sleep mussed. He peered down at you, gaze aching soft in understanding and he sighed.

Not unkindly, not impatiently, just a little sad for you, knowing how awful you’d feel in the morning despite how much you longed to close your eyes now. He knew you couldn’t help it and he hated seeing you when the sun came up, lips downturned and cradling a mug of coffee like it was your firstborn.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Eddie told you softly, swinging his legs out of bed. “You comin’?”

He didn’t leave much room for discussion, gathering the duvet from you and tucking some pillows under his arm. He headed for the empty living room, bare feet shuffling, cotton shorts low on his hips and the black ink of his tattoos only just visible in the dark.

You didn’t ask questions, didn’t argue. Not this time, not when you’d tried before and lost, Eddie throwing you over his shoulder when you protested and told him to sleep, that you were okay, it was fine.

So you tumbled out of bed after him, walking down the hall until you could watch him throw the bedding on the sofa, the remote control already in hand as he fussed with the TV, flipping through static until an old school horror filled the screen, still in black and white.

Eddie flopped onto the couch, curls messy over the pillows and he held his arms out to you, smiling that smile you swore was just for you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

He made an exaggerated “oof” when you let yourself fall onto his chest but the boy was grinning, arms wrapped around your waist to pull you closer, legs tangled, lips dancing across your hairline.

“You okay?” He asked when you got yourself settled, covers pulled over you both as you lay between his legs, cheek pressed the warmth of his chest. “This better?”

The movie played low, a gentle buzz of dialogue and background music, bad special effects and low light. It made the living room feel cosier, the light bouncing off of the walls, reflecting off the windows. Eddie’s arms were strong and solid around you and he nosed at your temple, a different but sweet kind of kiss.

Sleep already tugged at you, soft and kind like an old friend.

“Yeah, Eds,” you mumbled into his neck, smiling “this is better.”

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

can you do a Stiles Stilinski version of squirting I loved the Theo one

☾ stiles stilinski x afab!reader

smut warnings: p in v, afab!reader squirts, dom!stiles + sub!afab!reader, begging.

word count: 1.2k

fluff masterlists - 2024

smut masterlists - 2024

Stiles sat in his desk chair in his bedroom. His laptop screen sat open on his desk. Stiles wore a dark blue flannel button-up and slim-cut jeans with Vans sneakers. Stiles tilts his head and stares outside of his window. He doesn’t even hear you enter into his room, his mind so zoned out that he doesn't even register the sound of your footsteps or the files you drop onto his desk. There was another missing person in town, which the pack knew it was supernatural-related.

"Jesus... have you even slept?" you ask, breaking stiles out of his own little world. 

"Huh? Oh, uh... nope." Stiles's voice was barely audible over the sound of his fingers rapidly typing on the keyboard. He turns around in his chair to face you, surprised but not exactly shocked to see you standing there. His eyes widens slightly before returning to his computer screen with a sigh. "Just trying to find something new about this case. Maybe you missed something important."

He rubs his eyes tiredly before rising from his seat and stretching his arms overhead, arching his back. The movement accentuated his toned abs and strong legs clad in his jeans. 

"So, what brings you here at this hour?" he asks casually, walking over to his mini fridge and grabbing a water bottle. Taking a sip, he leans against his desk, crossing one leg over the other revealing his well-defined thighs.

"Your dad put together files of suspicious activity over the last week that might be related to this case," you tell him, eyeing his frustration.

"You know you can take it out on you, right?" you remind him casually. This whole 'fucking it out' situation we've got going on is still new to Stiles. He hasn't done anything like it before, and yet, finds it far better than going for a drive - his usual M.O for when he's stressed and needs to step away.

"Oh, absolutely," Stiles mutters nonchalantly, setting down the water bottle on his desk. He crosses his arms over his chest, revealing his toned upper body and broad shoulders.

Walking towards you slowly, he presses his body against mine intimately, their breaths mingling as they stood close. Stiles leans in closer, his lips brushing against mine passionately. His tongue slips past your teeth, exploring every corner of your mouth hungrily.

As soon as our tongues intertwines, Stiles deepens the kiss, his hands moving upwards to cup your ass firmly, pulling us even closer together. His hips rock slightly against yours, rubbing his growing erection against your crotch. The sensation was both familiar yet foreign, sending electric currents through his entire body.

Stiles pulls away from your lips and trails kisses down to your neck, sucking a sweet bruise on your supple skin. He slowly backs you towards the bed, gently guiding your body down. The soft linen of the duvet presses against the back of your thighs for a short moment before your legs wrap themselves around his waist. you whine softly when he grinds his hardening jean-clad cock against your core, pussy already throbbing with such need.

Stiles chuckles softly, his voice husky with desire. "You're quite the tease, aren't you?" he murmurs against your neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive area before trailing kisses downwards along your collarbone and onto your cleavage.

With one swift motion, he rips off his shirt exposing his toned torso covered in various scars from battles fought both supernatural and otherwise. His hands moves to undo your buttons, freeing you from your restrictive top piece by piece until you’re standing there in just your lacy bra and matching panties. He ran his fingers over your bare stomach, tracing slow circles around your belly button before moving lower, brushing against your erect nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

Reaching between our bodies, Stiles unbuckles his belt and starts to slide down his pants revealing his hardened member straining against his boxers. As it springs free, he groans lowly, eyes locking on yours as if mesmerised by your body, despite how many times you’ve done this before.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs appreciatively, running his index finger along the wet folds of your pussy, tracing lightly over your sensitive clit. "Tell you what you want, baby girl.”

"You..." you breathe, almost breathlessly like he had taken every bit of oxygen out of you. "I need you."

Stiles smirks, his teeth showing in a predatory grin. "Then you're in luck." With one swift motion, he yanks off the rest of your clothes, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze. He reaches down between our bodies again, this time grabbing hold of his own cock and rubbing it against your entrance teasingly.

"Tell you how much you want this," he growls lowly, his voice husky with need. "Beg for it like you mean it."

"Stiles please," you whine, hips grinding up against his cock that he keeps pressed against your slick folds. "Please fuck me, please.”

Grinning widely, Stiles finally relents and positions himself over you. He lines up his tip with your entrance and slowly pushes inside you inch by agonising inch. His cock pops past your tight ring of muscles, sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through your entire body.

Once he was fully embedded inside you, he pauses momentarily while you adjust to the invasion. "You're so fucking tight," he groans, his hands cupping your face roughly yet tenderly as he looks into your eyes.

With renewed determination, he began to thrust in and out of you rhythmically, each powerful stroke causing our bodies to slap together in syncopated harmony. The sound of their combined moans echos throughout the room, filling the silence left behind by their heavy breathing.

"Oh god," you whine, tilting your head back against the bed. Your nails scratch his back, digging feverishly down his spine. With each thrust of his hips, every breath of air is knocks out of you and expelling in high-pitched moans.

Stiles reaches between our bodies, his fingers rubbing slow and big circles on your clit, which only makes you cry out louder.

"Stiles! Oh my god!" you whimper, tilting your hips and rocking along with his rhythmic thrusts.

Stiles moans deeply, his pace picking up speed as he felt you getting closer to climax. "Tell you you're mine," he demands between heavy breaths. "Say it."

With every thrust of his hips, his cock hit your G-spot perfectly, sending waves of euphoria coursing through your body. His fingers works magic on your clit, driving you wild with pleasure. you could feel the edge of orgasm creeping closer and closer, and you couldn't deny him what he wants to hear.

"I'm yours! I'm yours!" you cry out, gasping for air as the sweet release washes over your body. Your mind is hazy, barely allowing any sensory information in as you tremble beneath Stiles.

"Stiles," you squeak, chest heavy quickly as you struggle for breath.

"I know, I'm here. You did so well," he praises, impressed that you just squirted. his hips slowly grinding into you. "Goddamn, [y/n]..." he groans out, his own orgasm building up inside of him. His hips buck upwards one final time, driving his cock as deep into you as possible before holding it there, pulsing against your sensitive walls as he both rode out their shared climax together.

“Did I just squirt?” you ask, feeling like your brain is finally coming back to its senses. Stiles laughs softly, chest rising and falling deeply as he pants. 

“You sure did.” 

[miasmaghoul]

Mushy May 2k24

(Thanks to @forlorn-crows for once again organizing this, I'm smooching u ♡)

Day 1: Cuteness Aggression

Rating: G

Pairing: Mountain/Rain

Word Count: idk not many I wrote this on mobile lmao

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Rain?" Mountain raps two knuckles against the other ghoul's bedroom door. "Rain, are you up?"

Mountain scuffs a slippered foot against the stone floor while he waits for a response, watching dust motes catch in the morning light. When Rain doesn't answer, he shifts the tray balanced on his free arm closer to his elbow, careful not to jostle its contents when he reaches for the handle.

"Don't know why I bother," Mountain sighs to himself, nudging the door open with his hip. "You could sleep through the end of the world if we let you."

Despite his grumbling, Mountain still makes sure the door closes as silently as possible. Plunges himself into relative darkness when the latch clicks, thanks to the blackout curtains covering Rain's windows. Mountain blinks to adjust while he sets the tray down on Rain's cluttered desk, covering up a quick yawn.

"Rain?" He tries again, quieter than he was on the other side of the door. Tiptoeing closer to the massive four-post bed between the windows and the pile of blankets it holds. The pile that's emitting soft snores Mountain can just make out over the artificial thunderstorm coming from Rain's white noise machine. He ducks down when he reaches the far side of the mattress, peering into the pile of deep blue bedding. "You awake, angelfish?"

It's useless, gets him nothing but a half-snort, but from where he's standing now he can see -

"Well this is just unfair."

Rain's got himself wrapped in who knows how many plush blankets, no part of him visible save for that lovely face and a few stray curls that have fallen over his forehead. He's curled up on his side, the covers drawn up around his ears and soft lips parted just enough for Mountain to catch a glimpse of crowded fangs. He's drooling a little too, just enough to stain his pillowcase. There's a plush shark bundled up with him, its nose smushed up against Rain's pointed chin, and the whole picture is so adorably enchanting that Mountain can't contain himself.

He starts with little touches - those few exposed curls, the cool skin of his forehead, the slope of his nose - and Rain rewards him with little twitches that do nothing to help the warm fullness in his chest. Mountain simply has to pinch his cheek. There's no other way.

"Gngh," Rain gurgles, burying his face in his shark and cracking one eye open just enough to see who could have possibly disturbed his slumber. "Mou'n?"

The way his voice is muffled by the stuffed animal is the last straw; Mountain's around the bed in half a breath, kicking off his slippers and crawling in to spoon up against the smaller ghoul with a purr in his chest. He sneaks a long arm under the blanket mound until he finds a bony hip, and then he's grabbing onto that narrow waist with greedy fingers.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he greets as Rain squeaks, nuzzling the back of his neck through the blankets. The other ghoul groans his protest, but doesn't move a muscle otherwise. Simply lets Mountain more or less manhandle him closer to his chest, still snuggled up in his cocoon.

"Hate mornings," Rain complains, unconsciously pawing around for Mountain's hand under the blankets. Dragging it up so they can both hug that oversized shark. Mountain grins so wide his cheeks hurt. "Why'd you make me wake up?"

"Brought you breakfast." Mountain gets his teeth into the duvet covering Rain's head and tugs it down far enough to be able to nose at the one tender spot behind his ear. "I made crepes."

Rain hums a low mmm and Mountain feels the scaly end of Rain's tail wrap itself around his calf. He chuckles to himself, nipping at the other ghoul's pointed ear.

"But you look so sweet," he mumbles, thumb brushing up under Rain's sleep shirt, "I might just have to eat you instead."

Mountain buries his face in Rain's throat, blows the world's loudest raspberry, and the sound Rain makes is almost as cute as he is.

[christinarowie332]

stupid fucking kid

part 2 of “stupid horny fucks”

chris sturniolo x reader .

angst .

warnings : language , talk of sex . angst . depictions of depressive episodes. regret .

not proof read cuz i don’t have time for that. 😀

———

it’s been a week . seven days of avoiding conversations with him , seven days of “oh sorry i’m busy” messages to nick when he asks to come over . i cant even think straight .

one week ago .

“he flops down next to me , his chest heaving and loose curls wet slightly around his neck with sweat .

“what the fuck just happened” i say looking over to him

he just stares at the ceiling .

what the fuck just happened .

“i’m gonna go-“ i try to continue but the sight of chris’s eyes closed and soft hums of sleep stop me .

my mind races with scenarios and past conversations. he doesn’t want a relationship. i don’t even know if i do . i just fucked my best-friend. how the fuck did that even happen . the same kid that i see allmost everyday , i’ve known him for years , what the fuck have i just done .

“chris i’m gonna go .” i whisper to his sleeping body , while getting out of bed and grabbing the sweatpants and tank top from the floor , and leaving the room . as i walk downstairs my vision gets blurry as regret and guilt sets in . i can hear nick and matt ask questions but before i know it i’m in my car and speeding home .

what the fuck just happened.

now.

the ceiling seems to move as i stare into the white space, shadows curve and shift with stars before i blink them away and look towards the notification lighting up my dark room . i notice the time . 2.36 , jesus . not bothering to read the notification i silence my phone and turn over in my sheets . the cold kisses my face as my cheeks slide over my pillow , fingers numb at the temperature as i place them both under the cover and curl the duvet up to my neck . closing my eyes allows the thoughts to run wild , my estranged relationship with the triplets , the fact i haven’t left my house in days , my plants are wilted as i’ve neglected them. chris .

i open my eyes and see the mascara stained bedding from last night . grey droplets seeping into the fabric left marks . a physical reminder for everyone to see . well. that’s if anyone bothered to check on me . it’s not their fault , the moment matt called me to check if i was ok i changed the subject, called him stupid and laughed , deciding to let him talk instead of me . it worked the first two days , then the missed meetings rang alarm bells for nick , he showed up at my house , ringing the doorbell to which i ignored . i shouldn’t have done that . the thoughts that were once plaguing my head were cut off as i hear a car pull into my driveway . the sound of my dogs nails tapping into the wooden floor confirms it , she knows the sound of matt’s car .

as i reach the door i take a breath before opening it , gripping the handle for stability , nuckles whitening at the force . i’m met with shy blue eyes and stubble , his hair flowing around his hat and vivien westwood necklace swaying on his chest .

“hi”

his voice is hourse , it allmost sounds deeper, my lips twitch at his nervous tone but it never quite meets a smile as i know why he’s here . “hi chris.” my eyes focus on the car and i notice matt behind the wheel looking angry , probably at being dragged out the house , but his eyes soften when he meets my gaze . i shift out the way for chris to enter the house , it’s only now i realise the state im in and cover my body with my arms .

i close the door behind him and turn to look at him sheepishly. he looks nervous, his hands are in his pockets and he won’t meet my eye contact . i’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or anxiety but whatever it is , it’s not chris .

“look y/n i’m-“

“does matt know?” i cut him off unintentionally, something changes in his features. this is something he can answer . an easy thing to talk about . “no , i figured it’s up to you to tell him.” he answers confidently, like he’s doing me some fucking favour . quickly the pain turns into anger , and i feel adrenaline fill my chest , as much as i wish it was a different feeling i’m happy to feel something.

“what the fuck does that mean? u give me the job to tell him ? what are u too embarrassed to tell him?” i snap at him . i subconsciously curse myself , knowing this is not what i wanted to say . but this is easier then watching him walk away all together. this he’s good at , this he knows how to do . argue .

“what ? no of course not? y/n i just-“

“you just what ? too embarrassed to say we fucked and u ghosted me ?”

“ghosted you ? i didn’t fucking ghost you , you just left ? u literally fucked then dipped ? what am i supposed to do tell him hm?” he raises his voice , his calm demeanour slowly melting away . he takes a step towards me and i take a step back , my back hitting the radiator attached to wall and i wince at the pain . he notices and takes a step back again , taking a shakey breath in and bites the inside of his lip . “look y/n , im sorry okay ? i don’t know what i did or how to fix it but i’m sorry . i thought u wanted it as much as me but i’m sorry if you-“

“no chris i did, i thought i did , but i just don’t think it should have happened, i feel wierd . i cant believe i fucked you literally minutes after u meant to send a dick pic to another girl” i calm myself down now , matching his energy, my neighbors did not want to hear two teenagers shout about dickpics at 2 in the morning . “ i feel disgusting , u took my fucking virginity and-“

“what” he cuts me off confused , looking away in thought i watch as his shoulders relax and eyes glaze over for a second . “i’m so sorry i didn’t even know , i didn’t think , that picture was stupid , it was a mistake in itself i don’t even know that girl . she just looked like you so-“

what .

———

yikes y/n seriously needs some therapy

tag list:

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