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ja3yun · 24 days

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"cat got your tongue?" | L.HS

bf!heeseung x gf!reader warnings: smut (mdni) unprotected sex, cream pie, dom!heeseung, gagging on fingers, slight breath play, pwp, just pure filth from the start, hee is loving but a menace, not proof read, anything else lmk! wc: 2.1k synopsis: heeseung's fingers might be your favourite gag a/n: hi! it's me finally with a small wordcount drabble!! who would have guessed it? anyway this was heavily inspired by a conversation i had with my twin flame ruby @dollyyun , so yes babe i hope you love it!! just something filthy and fun. have a great weekend everyone

“Oh God, Heeseung, don’t fucking stop,” you gasp, voice trembling with a mix of desperation and ecstasy.

Your words seem to spur him on, his hips driving forward with a rhythm that’s sharp and deliberate, each thrust more intense than the last. His 7-inch cock plunges deep inside you, the set pace teetering on the edge between pleasure and torment. Every time he pulls back, you feel the delicious drag of his shaft slipping against your walls, only for him to slam back in, battering you deep inside. You can’t decide if you want to savour this maddening tempo or beg for more - something harder, rougher, like a man who’s lost in his own lust.

The room is thick with the scent of sex, love, and a passion that feels almost primal. You hadn’t imagined the night turning out this way; there was a different kind of intimacy in mind with cuddles and romantic movies. But it’s your own fault, really. You knew exactly what you were doing when you slipped into his favourite pyjamas - the ones dotted with cute little hearts, the matching crop top clinging to your skin, barely covering your tits. His reaction was inevitable; you had provoked the beast, and now he was giving you everything you silently asked for and more.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each thrust driving the air from your lungs. His name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, broken and pleading. "Heeseung...please..." You don't even know what you're begging for anymore - a faster pace, a deeper thrust, anything to push you over the edge that you're balancing on. His gaze is dark and focused, a predatory glint in his eyes as he watches your every reaction, drinking in the sight of you falling apart beneath him. His lips curl into a wicked smile, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of amusement and lust. “So desperate for me, aren’t you?”

A shiver runs through you, his words sinking into your skin, your core tightening around him in response. Heeseung's hands slide down to grip your waist, fingers pressing into your flesh hard enough to leave marks, and with a grunt, he changes the angle. The new position has him hitting that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyes, and your moan echoes through the room.

"Fuck, yes, right there!" you cry out, arching your back as your nails rake down his shoulders. Each thrust grows more relentless, his hips driving into you with a punishing, unyielding rhythm that leaves you gasping for breath, lost in the delicious agony of it all. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, blending with the symphony of your moans, gasps, and his ragged grunts.

Your hands trail down his arms, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath your touch as your fingers glide over the sheen of sweat on his skin. They move lower, seeking the hand that’s gripping your waist with such force that you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises blooming across your skin by morning. You pry his right hand away and entwine your fingers with his, grounding yourself in that moment of intimacy amidst the ferocity.

The wicked grin on his lips softens into something more tender, his gaze never leaving yours. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his eyes speaking the love that words don’t need to convey. For a moment, there’s a gentleness, a shared breath of vulnerability.

But when you guide his hand to your lips, his expression shifts back to that familiar, dark smirk, eyes narrowing with understanding. He knows what you’re asking for without you needing to say a word. His lips curl up, that sadistic amusement returning as he watches you with a mix of pride and desire.

“You want to suck on my fingers, baby?” he asks, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, lips parting slightly in anticipation, but Heeseung doesn’t give in so easily.

Instead, he brings your joined hands back to his mouth, and with deliberate slowness, he slips his own fingers past his lips. His eyes stay locked on yours as he sucks them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around each digit, wetting them thoroughly. The sight makes your breath hitch, a new wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You’re so jealous of his tongue that you might grow green with envy, wishing it was you instead.

With a soft pop, he pulls his fingers free, and that smug, dark grin stretches wider across his face. “Open up,” he commands softly, his tone brooking no argument. You don’t even think to disobey. Your lips part further, and he wastes no time, pressing his slick fingers against them and pushing them past your teeth.

The taste of him coats your tongue, and you moan softly around his fingers. He watches intently, his gaze dark with lust as he slides his fingers deeper, teasing the back of your throat. He forces your mouth open, her stare never leaving yours

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispers, voice rough with desire. “Being so good for me. So fucking perfect.” He presses down more firmly, the tips of his fingers brushing against your tongue, and he grins when he feels you gag slightly. His hips never falter and your legs that are wrapped around his waist anchor you both together while he focuses on your pleasure.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you moan around him, sucking on his fingers as he guides you, your tongue swirling around them just like he’d done moments ago. “Nu-uh, baby. Eyes open or else I’ll stop,” he warns, causing you to string your eyes open in a desperate plea. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?” His tone is teasing and degrading but fuck does it turn you on even more.

The way he watches you makes you feel exposed, cherished, and utterly controlled all at once. Three of his digits press on your tongue as he uses his strength to widen your mouth, pushing his fingers deeper until your eyes water, and he can feel your breath coming in sharp gasps, rendering you unable even to answer his question.

The thing about your boyfriend is that he likes you vocal and demands that his questions are answered. Even simple ones like ‘Do you feel that?’ have to be replied with a yes, otherwise he takes the pleasure away from you. But how can you answer when his fingers are imprisoning you to silence?

Heeseung laughs mockingly as he plummets into you at a slightly slower pace. “Aw, baby, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” With each question, he bucks his hip forcefully, the tip of his cock meeting your cervix and desperately willing your eyes to close. The intense pressure has your eyes threatening to close, a tear slipping free, but you don’t look away. You meet his gaze, eyes glassy and lips stretched around his fingers, desperately trying to answer him with a look, a plea for mercy.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Look at you,” he murmurs with a breathy chuckle. “So desperate to speak. Go on, then, try.”

You attempt to form a word, but his fingers are still lodged deep in your mouth, muffling any sound. All that comes out is a garbled moan, saliva dripping down your chin as you try to articulate anything that might satisfy him. Your tongue moves helplessly against his digits, eyes begging him for some semblance of relief.

Heeseung’s grin widens, and with a sudden withdrawal, he pulls his fingers from your mouth, a slick trail of spit connecting them to your lips. You gasp for air, trying to find your voice, but before you can utter a single word, he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing whatever sound was about to escape. The kiss is hungry, consuming - tongues meeting in a frenzied dance. His hand, still wet from your mouth, grips your jaw, keeping you firmly in place as he devours you.

Heeseung’s hips drive into you with a brutal, unrelenting pace, his thrusts hitting so deep and fast that you feel like you’re coming apart beneath him. His lips move against yours in a heated frenzy, devouring your every whimper, every plea. Your tongue tangles with his, wet and hot, the taste of him mixing with the desperate sounds spilling from both of you. He pulls back just enough to let you gasp for air, but his lips are back on yours a second later, almost as if he can’t stand to be apart for even a moment.

The hand cupping the back of your head tightens its grip, fingers tangling in your hair as he forces your head to tilt back further, deepening the kiss to an almost punishing degree. The intensity of it sends sparks shooting through your veins, your body trembling with need. His hips snap forward faster, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room, his cock driving into you with a perfect, punishing rhythm that makes your toes curl and your vision blur.

“Hee…I need to cum…please,” you beg into his mouth, your words coming out in broken, breathless fragments between the feverish kisses. Your tongue explores his mouth, whimpering between each word, and he moans against you, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart beneath him. His hips don’t slow; if anything, he picks up speed, fucking into you with a new fervour, as if your begging has ignited something even more primal in him.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growls against your lips, his voice rough and dripping with dominance. “I want to feel you lose it around me. Come on - give it to me.”

His words are like gasoline on a fire, and your entire body seizes up, muscles tensing as you feel the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter. His thrusts are relentless, his cock driving into that perfect spot over and over again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure is so intense it’s almost painful, your mind going blank with nothing but the feeling of him inside you, around you, consuming you.

The combination of his filthy words, his relentless pace, and the raw need in his voice shoves you over the edge. Your climax crashes into you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and all-consuming. Your walls clamp down around him, squeezing his cock as your entire body convulses with the force of your orgasm. A choked scream rips from your throat, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through you.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” Heeseung groans through a tremble and gritted teeth, his rhythm faltering as he feels you tighten around him. He doesn’t stop, thrusting through your orgasm, drawing it out until you’re quivering and whimpering beneath him, barely able to catch your breath.

His hips stutter, and you feel him swell inside you, his cock pulsing as he chases his own release. His hand on your head pulls you back into another bruising kiss, his tongue claiming yours in a messy, desperate dance. His breaths are ragged against your lips, his body tense and trembling. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. You feel the hot rush of his release spill into you, his body jerking with each spurt as he fills you completely.

Breaking the kiss, Heeseug presses his forehead against yours as he pants heavily, his breath warm against your face. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your laboured breathing and the feel of your heartbeats pounding against each other’s chests. His hand loosens its grip in your hair, fingers stroking through the damp strands gently now, his touch a stark contrast to the roughness from moments before.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft and raw, full of emotion. He leans in and kisses you again, slower this time, his lips lingering against yours in a sweet, lingering caress that has you melting all over again.

“Love you too, Heeseung,” you whisper back, your voice shaky but full of sincerity. You’re still coming down from the high, your body exhausted, jaw sore, but thoroughly satisfied, and you know he feels the same, his lips curling into a lazy, contented smile against yours.

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, possessive hold, you know this isn’t the end but just the beginning of another night lost in each other.

perm taglist: @immortalvessel @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon @heelee-01

#enhypen smut #enha smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #enha x reader

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altieris · 11 months

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cw; obsessive!anakin, toxic!anakin, babytrapping, afab reader, 18+

anakin skywalker is an emotional, clingy, fanatic, and obsessive little bastard.

in my heart of hearts, i believe anakin is fucking obsessed with you. he is lovesick. you're just...you, so gentle and warm. you've shown him so much love and care, and he's so so in love with you. he's ready to do just about anything for you. and hes awfully clingy, but affectionately so. he's always holding you close to his body, nuzzling his face all over yours, and kissing you excessively. sometimes it almost seems like he's trying to merge with you.

he tries to move in with you like 2 months into your relationship. he's all whiny and practically begging, "baby, we spend so much time together. why keep going back and forth like this? :(", and you solely agree cause his pout is just too pretty.

honestly, he loses his fucking mind at the mere idea of not being with you. literally. i'm talking, he'd be going on about his day, then suddenly, he's struck with the mental picture of not being yours, and you not being his. and he's brought down to his knees, head in his hands and everything.

it's to the point where he starts getting so possessive and jealous that he cannot fucking bear your friends. the concept of you taking a liking, platonic or not, to anyone but him makes him so nauseous that he's ready to throw up (that's not to say he hasn't already). and it's mutual. your friends fucking hate him, he's so mentally deranged and they can't figure out why you're with him.

oh and woe to you if any of them are men. he is in pure and utter agony. he will visibly sulk, pout and huff 24/7, he's unbearable. and when he's alone, he'll blankly stare at himself in the mirror, scream into his pillow, and cry himself to sleep.

the thought of you being with anyone but him - makes him physically incapable of breathing. it feels as if he's being suffocated. it makes him sick to his stomach and the thought of you loving anyone else makes him want to crawl up into a hole and die. he picks fights and argues with you because he just wants every ounce of your attention to be concentrated on him, needs your eyes to never stray off of him once, needs you to be all his at every waking moment. only his, his, his, his...can't you just give him that?!

and when he's finally able to see you, he practically combusts, he's fueled up by all the negative thinking :( he doesn't even stop to greet you, he just smashes his lips onto yours, and carries you to bed.

he fucks you in missionary, so he can look deep into your eyes, and show you just how much he loves you - tells you all about how he's willing to do whatever it takes for you to never, ever, leave his side. then he snarls harshly, going on about how he can't and won't let you go. and when he's close, he's practically shedding tears, begging you to never disappear on him. can't you see? he's an empty shell of a man without you, he cannot live without you. you tell him to pull out and he almost doesn't catch it due to the resounding obscene noises filling the room. almost. but he does. so he cages you in his arms, and plunges his dick so deep, and he starts babbling, all pathetic, about how your kids would have his eyes, and your nose.

he practically wails when he buries himself to the hilt one last time, shooting his cum deep inside your womb. and you're about to push him off of you when he starts moving again, helplessly and feebly mewling, "i can't stop", hes so demanding and hopeless. hes physically incapable of bringing his messy thrusts to a halt...god, what do you do with him?

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fluff #anakin smut #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker imagine #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #star wars x reader

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joonipertree · 7 months

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Sano Manjiro, the most frustrating man to have a crush on

You learnt that Mikey punched a guy who asked you out. Mikey refuses to explain why. Both of you are dumbasses.

Tags: fluff, stupid shit, getting together, friends to lovers, fem bodied reader, smut at the end, it's him just eating you out sjsns, slight Dom/sub undertones because I can't help myself

Mikey was a dumbass.

In every sense of the word, he was a short fucking dumbass with a deep melodic voice and great hair. The biggest dumbass in the world. You wanted to punch him in the face and kiss him at the same time. Genuinely, you couldn’t stand that man. In no way could you imagine him ever being a good boyfriend. He’d suck at it-----

“Oi, Sano Manjiro.”

The man in question turned, face dead and eyebrow twitching.

“What?”

“Did you beat up the guy?

“I beat up a lot of guys.”

“The guy who asked me out.”

Mikey sat back with his palms on the ground and Toman jacket secured on his back. His hair had gotten long, a bit too long for his liking and he still hadn’t decided how to cut it. You’d already taken the liberty over the last few weeks to tie them in pigtails and braid them to your heart’s content. He’d just walk around like that without batting an eye.

“Yeah, he went out with one hit. You could do better.”

“Do you know who you are? The fuck. That could have killed him.”

“He isn’t in the hospital or anything.”

You turned around, not being able to take a look at your friend anymore than you needed to. Everyone around you stared with either pity or annoyance. Sanzu, Emma and Ken-chin were utterly done with Mikey’s dumbassery and Chifuyu was done with yours. Baji and Kazutora were done with both of you. They just always choose the stupid people as friends.

“You weren’t gonna say ‘yes’ were you?”

And you weren’t. The boy had very bravely confessed his feelings for you (unlike some people) and before you could even tell him your answer, he’d told you to think about it at least. You’d appreciated it and left at that, already planning on saying no.

“Maybe I was, what’s it to you?”

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered out in agony.

"Maybe you should nurse him back to health then."

"Yeah I was already planning on it."

No you were not.

You left with an emphasis on your steps, back straight and eyes hard because you were stubborn. You didn't care if Mikey won at being the most stubborn person in the block, you would beat him at his own game.

♡

"You know he likes you. He has for years. He knows you like him. Just fuck already." Chifuyu moaned out, having gotten over the shoujo vibes very quickly after seeing the slow burn drag out.

"I dunno what you're talking about."

You wanted to deny it. Not deny that you were in love with Mikey but deny he was in love with you. Because admitting it meant hoping for something to happen and false hope got you hurt. People got close, they saw you in your humanity and ran away. The only people you trusted not to leave were your friends, Mikey included.

"Oh come on. I have given you a powerpoint presentation and a whole binder worth of evidence that Mikey likes you. I nearly got wiped out by Draken for taking one too many pictures."

You snorted. Chifuyu being a romantic buffoon with an overeager imagination made it harder for you to accept it. But you did acknowledge, not with the binder full of pictures and 'receipts', that Mikey had a soft spot for you.

You got close at 17, Mikey being an extroverted loud mouth and you being a shy but curious introvert. He took you on bike rides, talked to you while making eye contact, held your hand and pulled you next to him and you fed him bites of your food and let him sleep on your lap.

But you wanted to argue that….Mikey was just friendly like that.

It had been a few years before you noticed that Mikey rarely made eye contact with people while talking but always asked for your attention. You both were hopeless and were just waiting for the other one to confess. It was getting painful.

Chifuyu's eyes shifting to the side made you alert because he wasn't good at acting. And when he got up and ran, you knew who came inside.

"Hi, Captain! Bye, Captain!"

Mikey sat in front of you, dark bottomless eyes staring into your soul. You looked back at him, still pissed that he punched a perfectly nice guy. He then eyed your sundae and you immediately pulled it closer to you. He needed to learn that actions had consequences and that you weren't weak for him.

With a pout, Mikey placed his chin on his arms, splayed out on the table. It made you aware how broad he was, fingers nimble and boney and angular.

Pretty. Always so pretty.

"How's your boyfriend doing?"

Your teeth clicked and with a roll of your eyes, you established that Mikey needed to get pushed off a cliff somewhere.

"So you aren't gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Mikey drawled out, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

"Why you punched an innocent dude."

"He pissed me off."

"Why?"

"Did you say yes?"

"Answer me first."

"I did."

You glared, taking a petty bite of your ice cream in retaliation. Mikey glared back harder, only changing when he looked out the corner of his eyes. You were about to turn your head before he spoke up again.

"It was an accident."

Your snort was loud and unattractive, hiding your face to try and compose yourself. When you looked up,Mikey's face had softened.

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth. Answer my question."

You debated your options. Because maybe saying that 'yeah I want to date him' would be going too far considering it would be a lie. But admitting that you didn't meant even more probing questions. Like why you were annoyed at Mikey for punching someone you didn't wanna date.

"Why do you care?" You retaliated like a dumbass.

"You're pissing me off."

"Good."

There was another pause. Mikey's hand moving to steal your bowl. You swerve it away from him with no chance of winning with his reflexes and the limited space. So your hand went to grab his wrist.

Your heart raced at immediate contact. You became all too aware of him. Aware of his delicate wrist, the muscle, the bone that jutted out, the blue veins against pale skin. You became aware of his reddened and bruised knuckles, his calluses and ripped cuticles. They were hands of a delinquent, that liked to grip things too tight and didn't mind rough surfaces and reveled in strenuous activity. They were big too, too big against your own hand and too rough for your soft skin.

And they were warm, soaking into you to leave a lasting impression.

Mikey let go of the bowl in favor of holding your arm, gentle and all encompassing. His thumb rubbed against your skin, causing goosebumps to form and a shiver to run down your spine.

"I was fighting with Takemitchy. The dude got caught in the crossfire. My hand landed on his face by accident. I can show you Mitchy as proof. He still looks run down. Even I took a few hits."

You saw. Saw the scratches on his face and the redness of his jaw. It made you want to chide him for not bandaging himself. But he always liked it when you did it. Your eyes couldn't meet his, staring at your fingers wrapped around his wrist and his thumb rubbing your skin.

"You need to stop fighting in public settings."

"It wasn't that bad. A tire or two got thrown around but that's about it."

"Where did you--- not gonna ask."

Mikey giggled, soft and gravelly. You were reminded that the years changed his voice in a way that was still his. There was a pause and you realised the question eating away at you wouldn't go away until you asked it. The secret you kept wouldn't help being hidden away. You were tired and just wanted him.

"You know……I talked to the guy today. Went to meet him."

Mikey's eyes instantly hardened, looking away with a click of his tongue.

"Ah, did he tell you I knocked his brains out? You shouldn't date a liar."

"No," you tried to keep your voice casual, "he told me that it hurt but you weren't even looking at him when it happened. He just got too close."

"Then why did you ask---"

"He apologised though, said he didn't know I had a boyfriend."

Mikey’s lips tugged upwards, turning his head to the side so he could catch his composure. And you were ready to slap the shit out of him.

“Huh, I don’t know what gave him that impression. We must look good together.”

“I feel like you saying ‘that’s for asking my girl out’ after you hit him might’ve done the trick.”

Mikey held his hands up in surrender, knees knocking against yours almost to tease.

"I didn't hit him, I just repurposed the accident. Didn't want it to go to waste."

"Manjiro."

"What?"

"I'm not yours."

"Since when?"

"Since always!!"

His eyebrows furrowed, leaning back with a huge frown like you'd just told him his house burnt down.

"What the fuck?"

"You can't just make me yours without asking me first, asshat."

"Everyone knows you're mine."

"I dont."

Mikey took your hand, lips on the back of it as if it was a normal part of his day. But your breath hitched and you froze. Because oh---

"I found you first."

Your palms slammed against the table.

"If you wanna kiss me so bad then do it on my mouth, you coward---"

And within the next second, Manjiro’s mouth crashed into yours. It nearly knocked you back, if it wasn’t for his hand at the back of your head, curling into your hair. You whimpered against him, his lips tugging into a satisfied smirk.

Chifuyu had yelled out, “Fucking finally!!”

The sound of your lips parting away from each other was enough to make you want to lean back in. Your lips weren’t willing to move even an inch away from him. He tasted good. Like vanilla. And he had trouble keeping himself away from you as well, leaving chaste kisses on the corners of your mouth, fingers keeping your chin lifted up.

A throat was cleared, your cheeks instantly burned with the realisation of where you were. Mikey glared at the waiter who just let him know that it was time to leave. And with fingers interlocked, Mikey pulled you away from the diner, sticking out his tongue to Ken-chin who sighed in relief and leaned against Emma.

You got on his bike without question, heart racing because oh god--

The door to his room slammed open and he barely paid attention to anything with his arm around you. You giggled as he lifted you up and swirled you inside with a flourish. Once the door was shut, his laughter was loud and warm as his lips crashed into you, hungry for more. And you let him lead you, combing your hand through his hair causing him to shiver.

Mikey hugged you close, gentle in his touch and you let him swallow you whole and envelop you. When his tongue prodded against your lip, you parted them easily as if he didn’t even have to ask. And oh, he felt good.

But Mikey will spend the rest of your lives telling you that you were the best feeling in the world.

“Mine.” Manjiro murmured out, sucking on your lower lip so harshly that your whole body did a visceral shudder.

You were breathing hard when you parted, eyes hazy but daring as you looked your best friend in the eye.

“You still haven’t asked me, asshat.”

Manjiro growled, eyes narrowed and twitching. Your head and body threw itself back as you burst out laughing, feeling free because you knew Mikey’s arm would never let you fall. That led your neck to be exposed to the littering kisses Manjiro gave out of vengeance.

You squealed as it tickled and felt your knees give out against the bed beneath you. He’d backed you up, without you noticing, like a predator cornering its prey for a meal well earned.

You felt yourself sink into the soft mattress, hand reached out to tug his shirt down towards you. Manjiro just stared at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you didn’t understand and a grin so wide you could see all his teeth.

“Mine, in every timeline.” Mikey whispered.

And your breath hitched, speaking out without a second thought.

“Yours, in every universe.”

Manjiro’s eyes watered and he finally enveloped you, body a welcomed weight as he kissed you in slow languid bliss.

“Good baby,” he whispered and you whined out.

You pawed at him, liking the praise a little too much. Manjiro’s kisses left a wet hot trail as he went from your chin to your cheek. A wet sound heard every time his lips disconnected from you. You let him have his way, feeling his hand pat the side of your head.

You wanted to kiss him back but every time you tried, he clicked his tongue in disapproval and you just laid there as he poured his love into you. You had begun to tear up because Manjiro's love was overwhelming and it was for you.

Your eyes closed as his lips met your eyelids, tasting the salty tears and pulling back to inspect your face. You mewled at the lost contact, opening your eyes and pouting.

Oh, how dare he

He hushed you, hand patting your head again, lips continuing their venture on your face.

Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. And both of you became aware of the effect the intimacy had on you.

Manjiro pressed into you, hips solid and confident. And you felt his bulge against your pussy, only his pants and your underwear in the way. it was enough to drive you insane.

You yearned and yearned and begged with pretty fluttery eyes that had him breathless.

“Yeah? You wan’ me, honey?”

And despite the embarrassment, you nodded with the biggest pout you could muster. And Manjiro melted just at that, ready to burn the world for you if you asked him to. In another timeline, he probably had.

“Haven’t even been dating for a minute and you're already so needy.”

He didn’t even let you blubber out a complaint before your underwear was exposed to him. And you craved him so badly that your legs made space for only Manjiro. He appreciated it, boney fingers squeezing your hips before imprinting the memory of the wet patch into his mind.

Oh you were so sweet. A type of pliable that was only given to those you trusted.

“Not allowed to hide anything, okay?”

And with that, his nose traced the outline of your pussy, tongue peaking out for a taste that just wasn’t enough for you. Your thighs squished against his cheeks and he groaned, pressing his full mouth onto you. Your hips jutted upwards, a cry weak and wobbly escaping your lips. And with effort, you spoke.

“Stop teasing, jerk.”

The warmth was too much, you could feel him right there but the cotton was in the way. Despite your protest, he lapped you up out of greed. And your hands clutched onto his hair.

“If there’s nothing between us, I won’t be sane.” You heard him say and it just made you needier.

“Don’ want you to be. Please.”

And with that, his hand ripped your panties out of the way. Manjiro took a second to stare in awe at your pretty pussy. It was so wet, begging him to eat it out, practically drooling. Many thoughts went through his head.

How it would feel to be inside you, how warm it would be, if he could last long in the tightness? If he'd ever be able to survive without the taste of your pussy after this moment? If he gave your cunt a smack, would you like it?

Manjiro decided that keeping you waiting was the worst thing he could possibly do.

Mikey was a lot more hungry than he thought he was. Your pussy was engulfed in his mouth.

The direct contact was enough to make him moan. Your own got stuck in your throat, not realising how overwhelming it would be. When his tongue prodded inside, you let him guide your legs against your chest so that he could have more access. And then it plunged inside and you let out a warbled moan that felt too loud in your own ears. With a hand covering your mouth, you tried to suppress the little sounds tumbling out of you.

Manjiro’s middle finger tapped against the plush of your thigh and he pulled away with effort to say:

“No hiding. Be good.”

You cried out, flexing your fingers in his hair as he went back to the task at hand. And you let yourself voice out the feeling, soft “ah, ah, ah”s filling the air and causing you to tear up in embarrassment.

“Wan’ to be-be good for you.”

“Mhmmm,” He answered with the vibration of his hum shooting through your pussy and into your back that arched almost painfully.

The orgasm came out of nowhere, crashing into you the second Manjiro’s mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked.

You didn’t even care how loud you were being, brain wiping out everything it had as your body arched and twitched. Manjiro only stopped lapping your cum when you flinched away, kissing your inner thigh before moving to you for a kiss.

You let him inside your mouth easily, whimpering and pawing at his shoulder as you held him close. You shook in his embrace, muttering out weak and tiny ‘thank you’s that had him chuckling at you.

“Did your Manjiro make you feel good, bubba?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, kissing the corner of his lips in appreciation.

#mikey x reader #tokyorev headcanons #mikey headcanon #mikey x you #tokyo manji gang #tokyo rev fluff #mikey imagines #tokyo rev x you #mikey sano x reader #mikey x reader smut #mikey smut #mikey fluff #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #tokrev smut #tokrev x reader

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the-californicationist · 8 months

Note

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

AO3 Link

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takami-takami · 2 months

Text

Hi, sorry. Yeah, I'm just checking in, just curious.

Have you thought about Hero Partner Hawks coming to you to ask you to help him have his first orgasm?

Have you thought about how embarassing the request would be for him to make, biting his nails and bouncing his leg and pacing for weeks on end before he worked up the courage? Judging himself for never having been able to do it? Internally debating the part of himself that thinks he's selfish, or weird, or doesn't deserve to feel good, against the agony of not knowing what the good really feels like?

Have you thought about Hawks having wet dreams about you? Infected with the thought, tossing under the covers, feverish with thoughts of you? Confused and frustrated because it doesn't matter how much he touches himself, how hard he strokes his cock— it's nothing compared to the static spark he felt of your fingertips just grazing his hand, lighting his body on fire from a brush alone? How he knows that's the only way— you're the only way he can cum?

Have you thought about the way he'd tense up like he was scared of it the first time he's about to finish, pretty eyes wide and black lashes beaded with tears of pleasure? Have you though about his back bowing and eyes snapping shut, hands gripping the sheets like he saw god, like he felt pure satisfaction inside you?

Have you thought about how Hawks would babble his moans after, cheeks flushed, head turning and panting into the bed sheets, "shit, baby, oh my god— oh, my fucking god, baby—"

Just wondering.

#you know what this is going in the tags #sorry for the ercetile dysfunction in your tags #hawks x reader #L #🐇 rambles #keigo takami x reader #smut #bnha smut #mha smut

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aerynwrites · 11 months

Text

Losing You

Halsin x GN!Reader

A/N: based on these three requests! Halsin would definitely flip out if you were injured in battle - so here’s a little insight into that scenario. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning: canon typical violence, blood, injuries, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

You knew the shadow cursed lands were going to be a completely new trial all together, but you weren’t prepared for this.

The first ambush by the shadow creatures when you first arrived hadn’t been something to cause you great worry. But after reaching last light and venturing out once more, another ambush had taken your group by surprise.

You’d all been doing fine, Gale and Halsin’s spells holding the most of them off and Shadowheart keeping you all safe and healed. You’d just managed to take out one of the shadows before a panicked call of your name reached your ears.

You turn just as a creature materializes in front of you, its clawed hand swiping upwards in a flash.

You don’t even register the pain at first, the creatures strength sending you flying through the air until you land harshly against the cold ground.

The wind is knocked from your lungs, and it’s then, as you struggle for breath that the pain washes over you in an agonizing wave.

You faintly register the way you cry out Halsin’s name on instinct, and you hear the way he calls for you in kind.

But the only thing you fully recognize is the pain. It’s all comsuming, starting in your abdomen and radiating outwards as you try in vain to sit up and turn yourself over to asses the damage.

Your futile efforts are stopped by a gentle hand on your shoulder, slowly helping you to roll over.

“My heart…” Halsin’s voice is calm at first, but even in your dazed state you don’t miss the way his words pitch upwards as you finally settle into your back, the sudden movement making you gasp as another wave of pain shoots through you.

“Shadowheart!” Halsin calls for the cleric, and you can faintly hear Gale telling her to go while he deals with the few remaining enemies.

Halsin hands are on you now, flitting over your body worriedly as you finally manage to raise your head enough to try and take in the damage.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the damage done. Or rather what you can’t see. There’s so much blood. It runs in thick rivers from the deep wound in your stomach, and seeing the wound just makes the pain elevate.

Your can feel yourself start to hyperventilate, panic settling in full force as Halsin hovers over you, pulling out what little healing supplies he carries in his pack.

“Oh gods…” Shadowhearts gasp meets your ears as she finally appears your side. You watch through bleary eyes as she shakes her head. “We have to get them back to last light I…my magic is sapped - I - I don’t have enough power to heal something like this-“

“Then help me with whatever magic you do have,” Halsin barks, voice unusually panicked. “They won’t make it to last light like this I-“ he pauses, eyes flitting over your form. “We must stop the bleeding.”

“Halsin…” your voice is weak as you call out for you lover, but he is quick to respond, his gaze turning to you as he reaches to take your hand in his bloodied one.

His eyes look panicked as he gazes down at you and you can see the apology before he utters it.

“My heart, we…We must stop the bleeding before we can move you. This is going to hurt, I’m so sorry-“

You don’t even have time to question anything before you feel a firm pressure on your wound, the action sending fire through your very veins.

A scream tears from your throat, hands scrabbling for purchase against the assault. Your fingers finally find Halsin’s familiar form, pushing uselessly at his arms, tears now streaming down you cheeks.

You can register nothing but the pain, your mind clouded with it, your muscles locking down against the waves of it.

You feel the pressure shift, another wave of agony pulsing through you before Halsin face is hovering over your own, brows pulled together, eyes glistening with worry.

You reach up for him then, hands landing on his shoulders as your fingers dig into him, anything to try and relive the pain.

“It hurts,” you whimper, fear now creeping into your hazy mind.

He reaches a hand up, cupping your face, and you notice his hands are shaking as he wipes the tears from your cheek.

You can feel the way your lower lip wobbles as you speak again.

“Am I going to die?”

Halsin’s lips set in a firm line then, eyes full of determination. “No, you will not die this day, or you any day I am by your side.” He pauses for a moment, and you see the moment an idea comes over him.

His eyes slip closed before the familiar golden glow of magic envelops his hand as he reaches it up over you. “I will take your pain away, my love. Then I will be at your side when you wake.”

You don’t protest as his magic flows through you, pain ebbing away almost instantly as darkness clouds your mind.

The last thing you feel before unconsciousness consumes you is the gentle press of lips to your cheek.

———

You wake to weak candle light and, surprisingly, little pain.

The room you’re in is dimly lit by various candles littered around the space, and as it has been since you’ve arrive in these cursed lands, the sky outside remains dark.

You recognize the last light inn, even in your bleary eyed state. You take a deep breath and close your eyes again, trying to ground yourself.

The air is cool but not uncomfortable. Your fingers twitch against soft sheets atop an even softer bed. Though you suppose anything is softer than the bedroll you’ve been sleeping on in the last weeks.

It’s also quiet. Much quieter than your used to for the only safe haven in the shadow cursed lands. Which means it must be well into the evening, everyone having retired to bed.

You only open your eyes again when the gentle rustle of fabric meets your ears. You turn to the source of the sound, only to be met with the familiar sight of a certain Druid sitting by your bedside, his hand clasped loosely with yours as he leans back in his chair, eyes closed in what you assume to be the trance he falls into at night.

You squeeze his hand in yours instinctively, seeking out that familiar comfort as the memories from before come slowly back to you.

Halsin’s eyes open the moment your hand stirs against his own, hazel eyes widening as he takes you in. He lets out a small sigh, lips tugging upwards ever so slightly.

“You’re awake,” he says simply, scooting closer to your bedside.

You nod and move to sit up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the pain that shoots through your abdomen at the action.

Halsin is reaching out immediately, hand on your shoulder as he urges you to lay back down.

“Careful, my heart, your injuries are still fresh. You must not move too much until Shadowheart or I are able to heal you further,” he explains, voice gentle.

You give him a small nod as you rest back into the pillow, grimacing at the pain now blooming in your abdomen.

“Gods…” you whisper, “It landed a solid blow, didn’t it?”

Halsin’s lips fall into a frown, brows drawn tight. He says nothing at first, instead standing to turn to the table near the bed and grab a small cup.

You watch in silence as he mixes something into the cup before moving to the small fire in the hearth and the pot hanging over it. He dips a ladle into the pot before transferring the contents into the cup and stirring it before returning to your side.

The cup is steaming, and you catch the faint smell of medicinal herbs and something slightly sweet.

“Here,” he says softly, holding the cup out as he reaches for you with his other arm. “It should help with the pain. I will help you drink.”

Halsin slides one arm under your shoulders slowly, delicately lifting you up just enough so you can drink comfortably. The small movement bring no more pain, so once you’re sure you’re secure in Halsin’s hold, you reach up for the cup.

It’s warm in your hands, and it’s then that you realize just how cold you are. Even with the blankets draped over you, a persistent chill nips at your skin.

You blow on the still steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip, expecting it to be too hot and also not pleasant in taste.

You’re surprised on both accounts.

It’s the perfect temperature, not too hot at all and it actually tastes pleasently sweet. It tastes like…

“Is there honey in this?” You ask, eyes flicking to your lovers only to see his lips twitch upwards.

“There is,” he smiles now. “I know the taste can be unpleasant and you already know of my penchant for the particular treat…I thought a little something sweet couldn’t hurt.”

You smile at him in return, already feeling the affects of the drink. “Thank you.”

Halsin continues to support you as you finish off the concoction, and then he takes the cup from you before slowly helping you lay back down.

The blankets shifted with the small movements, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spin as the cool air kisses your exposed skin.

“Are you cold?” Halsin asks, concern lacing his words.

Nodding, you pull the blanket up to your shoulders again, silently taking note of the banded covering most of your torso.

“It is a little chilly in here,” you admit softly, trying to hide another shiver.

Halsin turns to look at the fire, the flames dwindling and embers glowing softly.

“I’ll stoke the fire,” he tells you, turning back to face you. “I need to change your bandages, so I’ll try to make it warmer.”

He squeezes your hand gently before turning to his new task with you watching on in silence. He pokes the burning logs already in the hearth before adding a few new ones. The flames lick eagerly at the new fuel, and you can feel the room rise in temperature just from that.

Once Halsin is satisfied he walks to a table across the room and washes his hands in a large bowl of water sitting atop it.

You watch silently as he goes through the motions, and despite your silent admiration of your lover, you can’t help but notice the stiff set of his shoulders, or the way his lips stay pressed in a thin line.

When he finally returns to your side, his hands are full of supplies. New bandages, a small bowl that once again smells of something medicinal, and several other items.

He sets them all down on the small side table next to your bed and gestures to the blanket covering you.

“May I?”

You nod, “Of course, Halsin.”

He nods and folds the blanket down to your waist neatly, finally giving you a clear view of what hid beneath.

Bandages span from just below your chest all the way below the waistband of your pants. You briefly realize these are not the pants you were wearing when you got injured - the leather armored pants being replaced with simple cotton ones. At least the fact that Halsin was probably the one to change you nullified any embarrassment you may have felt otherwise.

Neither of you speak as Halsin begins unwinding the old bandages, the white cloth getting more discolored the more he unwraps. When it’s finally fully removed, you’re able to see the full extent of the damage.

By all accounts you should probably be dead.

There’s four red, angry claw marks coming from your left hip all the way up and across your stomach to the right side of your ribs. The blood has been cleaned off, but a flash of the pools of crimson liquid pooling on the ground makes you tear your eyes away from the stitched up wounds.

“H-how…” you trail off, unable to voice the question.

How am I still alive?

Halsin is quiet at first, focusing instead on cleaning your wounds and gentle applying what you assume to be a healing poultice.

He lets out a quiet sigh as you flinch against his minstarations, even his earlier concoction not enough to numb the pain from direct touch.

“In truth…” he pauses. “I was afraid you were going to die on that shadow cursed battlefield.”

He doesn’t look at you as he continues his work, being even more gentle this time.

“I…I do not feel fear often. Having had centuries to master that specific part of myself, but…” his words die on his tongue, and you can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly.

“I have not cared so deeply for someone in many years, and the thought - the thought of losing you was more than enough to bring that unfamiliar fear to the forefront of my mind.”

His words settle into the quiet room, the fire crackling the only sound to penetrate the silence.

Finally, he speaks as he begins wrapping the new bandages around your middle, hands moving slowly as not to aggravate the wound.

“Shadowhearts magic was depleted, mine was about to be as well. We used what little magic we could conjure to stabilize you, and then Gale managed to open a portal here to the inn,” he focused on his work as he continues. “I was afraid you were going to die, my heart. And there was little I could do about it.”

He secures the final piece of cloth before his hands fall back to the bed, fingers digging into the sheets.

“I would not have survived that.”

You let out a shaky breath, reaching out to take his hand in your own, unfurling his fingers from the covers to lace them with your own.

“Hey…” you whisper, gaining his attention enough to tug him towards you. “I’m here. I am alive because of you. I’m okay.”

Halsin shakes his head, eyes falling closed, “But you could have-“

You shush him softly, tugging on his hand more intently.

“Lay with me?” You ask. “Please?”

Your lover hesitates, eyes opening to look down at your bandages before looking back up to your pleading eyes.

You pull him closer again, his thighs now pressed against the edge of the bed. “I’ll be fine I just…” you trail off. “I want you close.”

Halsin sighs, but not in anger or disappointment. In fact he sounds…relieved. Like the fact that you are alive and no longer on deaths door has finally settled in.

He nods, helping you adjust to the other side of the bed before he slips in beside you, pulling the covers up around your waist once you’re both settled.

You want to roll over onto your side and curl into him, but you know you can’t. So you settled for the way Halsin lays on his side instead, his arm draped carefully over your hips, thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the unmarred skin of your right side.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” you whisper, one hand falling to cover Halsin’s.

You turn to look at him when he doesn’t respond. Leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He responds in kind, lips molding against yours before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“And I won’t let you,” he promises.

You smile as Halsin captures your lips again. The action is full of so much. So much love and care and affection.

And most importantly, promises to keep you safe.

A promise you know he’ll fulfill. As many times as it takes.

#Halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin

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sytoran · 6 months

Text

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒 || mdg pt. 5

timelines and lifelines have torn you and natasha apart, but the two of you are bound by the child you have created. though subjected to earth, loki, god of mischief, dangles the possibility of a future with natasha by making you a god.

pairing: goddess!natasha x mortal!reader (not for long)

note: this is the 5th installment to the goddess!nat universe, as per the 4k celebration! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains depictions of violence. this series is 18+ only.

word count: 1.8k

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

Previously…

Your relationship with the Goddess of Lust, Natasha Romanoff, comes to a screeching halt. Torn apart by timelines and lifelines, you’re not coping well, and neither is Natasha — especially when she finds out she’s pregnant with your child.

On the other side of the universe, Loki, God of Mischief, breaks into your apartment to offer you a deal. Worse still, he eats your leftover pizza.

Now…

When you come back to consciousness, you feel like you’re floating. Not in the whimsical, psychedelic cocaine-induced way, but in the Help-I’m-Physically-Suspended-In-The-Air way.

And it is true, much to your demise, because despite the fruitful hours of work spent in the gym, your arms and back can’t quite handle the excruciating pain of being strung taut like a rope.

Against the will of every screaming cell in your existence for you to fall the fuck back asleep, you forcefully sit up and open your eyes.

It takes about two seconds for the headache-worthy hangover to sink in, and three seconds for you to regret every godforsaken decision you had made the night prior.

Last night- oh, fuck. Last Friday night.

(No, this isn’t going to entail a radio pop song with a curly black-haired Katy Perry, because the only curly black-haired one in this story is the God of Mischief himself. Both equally as sassy, but expounding on that would fracture the entirety of the space-time continuum.)

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Speaking of the devil (quite literally), Loki forces you to bring your blurry gaze up to the cocky expression painting his angular face.

“Fuck you,” you spit, dry and hoarse, memories surging through your teetering consciousness. All you were aware of was the mother of your problems was the man himself.

Now, you were suspended like a puppet in your very own living room, strings of golden magic encircling your body, keeping you stretched to the edge of insurmountable agony.

“Funny,” Loki says dryly, eyes raking over your pathetic form. “That’s exactly what you said last night that put you in this position.”

You would’ve laughed, truly, if not for the ache in your ribs and your back and your– you get the point. “You offered me a proposition,” you comment, licking your cracked lips with distaste.

“And you said ‘fuck you’ and threw up three bottles worth of alcohol on my ridiculously expensive snake-scaled shoes before promptly passing out from your hissy fit of a heartbreak.”

“Deserved.”

“I will hang you upside down.”

You roll your eyes – however much you can roll them in this position. “You gave me an offer. That means that I had a say in this, and I certainly did not consent to take part in this BDSM-worthy fantasy of yours.”

Loki scoffs at this, shifting in his seat. Your seat, actually, his black robes draped over your armchair like it belonged to him.

“My sex life is none of your business, and more than often entails men,” Loki begins, putting a finger up. “The only reason I’m taking interest in a hopelessly lovesick woman-lover is because you have something that I want.”

You exhale roughly, lungs and ribs screaming in protest. You weren’t of a godly status by any means, but based on his identity and the fact that a God was lurking around Earth, you were competent enough to figure out what he wanted.

“You wanna get back to the land of the Gods,” you state, eyes narrowing in seriousness. “Like me, you’ve done some shit that made SHIELD put a target on your back. Except it’s ten times worse, considering you’re a God. That’s why you’re here. What you want is connections, because I have – I had – a relationship with Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha.

It pains you, to even put it in the past tense, that what you had with Natasha would only ever be history.

“Oh wow,” Loki responds, acting shocked. “There’s actually more to you than this himbo attitude you exude.”

You don’t give him the pleasure of a response to his provoking, despite your incessant need to sucker-punch that face of his. But uncovering his plan has that layer of composure slipping, for a second, and you delight in it for what it’s worth.

"Put me down first," you say instead through gritted teeth, looking up with a ferocious glint in your eyes.

"Say yes first," Loki answers promptly, folding his arms over his chest with a self-satisfied grin.

"Put me down and or I won't consider your absurd request," you try again, a wracking cough making your stomach lurch in pain.

"Funny you think you're in a position of power," the arrogant god taunts. "Who's to say I won't torture you to the brink of death until I get what I want?"

"...Who's to say I'd eventually break?" you say finally, narrowing your gaze. You sure as hell were scared as fuck, but you had to survive. "Threats only work on people who've got something to lose. I'm forbidden from ever seeing the love of my life again – I've got nothing to lose, y'know? No amount of torture will get you what you want."

Your little speech of sorts, delivered with an unwavering tone despite the pain coursing through your body, plays out perfectly. Loki's gaze is unreadable as he contemplates upon your counter-proposition.

Unceremoniously, you're dropped to the ground, hitting reality with a grunt of pain. “Shit,” you wheeze, clutching at your ribs with sore wrists. “Warn a girl, man.”

Loki waves you off dismissively. “The pain won’t matter anymore.”

“Wait,” you struggle to say, reaching out to nothingness as the man closes his eyes and raises his hands to the lands you once roamed.

It’s only then that you realise you’re surrounded by candles, so many candles. You’re in the center of some kind of ritual board, and what you assume are ‘offerings’ circle you.

From skulls to black flames, you know something is wrong. Very wrong. Loki is muttering incantations under his breath, a language beyond your human tongue, and the pressure in your room rises to an extent that forces you downwards.

“What,” you ask, exhaling roughly against your cracked ribs. “What kind of God am I going to become?”

Your question goes unanswered, lost in the swirling black flames that surround you. Loki’s eyes open again, and this time they are completely black. He begins a chant, crafted from an inhuman tongue, a language you’d never heard before.

That’s when the pain starts.

You scream, brain waves throbbing, a loud ringing sound echoing in your ears. Psychedelia takes over your conscience, producing images all around you, dark and distorted and everything you thought you’d buried.

“ибяѓюгэю юдякиэҁ, эиѫч ҩ рэд.”

Unbridled darkness, enemy of peace.

Natasha’s face is at the forefront of your mind, unblemished and happy and everything you’d ever wanted. You reach out, spluttering and breathless, trying to grasp that wistful memory like it’d materialize in front of you, like she could ever be yours.

“бцэт юҩщи ҩцядрҩи дю ғдг ҩця ҩиэҁ.”

Put down your weapons and fall to your knees.

Her face gets shattered into smithereens, scattered throughout the dark swirls of your mind, overtaken by shadows. Horrifying screams and flashes of a graveyard overwhelm you, and you yell through the misery for the love of your life.

“тҩ фэн тнэ юэҁѓяэ ҩғ џэиəэдисэ lə'”

To quench the desires of vengeance and rage.

Fury slugs through you, as you crawl away from cold hands that pull you back. “No!” You yell, but your voice is not yours anymore. The only thing to describe what you feel is chaos, darkness creeping in from the shadows, a slithering worm into your ear, a rotting carcass and the stench of carrion.

“ҩҁэ бҩиэҁ сдҁт ҩғ ҁсчнэҁ дию бдюэҁ.”

To see bones cast of scythes and blades.

The world snaps from reality, and you get flung into a different dimension. This place you’re trapped in is unfamiliar. You’re standing on a pile of dead human bodies, and there are ghouls and demons cheering your name. Blackness seeps through your veins, infiltrating your mindwires.

“Revenge,” you spit, a devilish noise, and the cheers rise again.

You scream, as black wings tear through your back, ripping your collared shirt and spreading towards the sky. You launch from the depths of whatever hellhole that may have been, an inhuman screech echoing around the void, soaring towards the heavens in search of the one you’d lost.

“ҩѫэҩя, гдск-щѓəэю юэџѓг, эт ндҁ иғцяг”

Come forth, black-winged devil, let chaos unfurl

Upon descending on holy ground, unfamiliar faces intrude into your mind, prominent and unmistaken. Backlogged information begs its worth — God of Thunder. Goddess of Magic. God of Science. God of Justice.

Then one word rings above all, high and mighty, and the darkness of your mind clears to reveal the people that had taken your Natasha away.

SHIELD.

“энҩгю яҩѫ нэг, ҩю ҩғнэ Циюэящҩягю.”

Behold from hell, Ruler of the Underworld.

Reality drives into your side like a thousand semi-trucks, bright and flashing, and then you’re back in your living room. You stay on the ground, all-fours, spluttering and gasping for air.

Natasha.

Black wings flap behind you, resplendent and marvelous. Those had been real.

Arising from the ground, gone is the fear in your eyes. No more shreds of hope. No more sense of justice. Your blackened eyes burn red, searching for Loki. He stands in the corner of the room, and he seems so much smaller now, compared to you and your bloodlust.

“She was mine,” you growl, dangerously, fearsome and inhuman.

“She is yours,” The God of Mischief answers, marveling at his creation, for there was nothing that could stop you now.

***

“Rockabye baby on the treetop,” Natasha sings softly, a hand gently caressing the swell of her stomach. Colours sweep into galaxies as nightfall arrives, cloaking her land in gentle beauty.

“When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.” As if on cue, the wind gets a little chillier. Worry clouds Natasha’s face, edging in on her safe haven.

“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall.” A holographic image of The God of Justice materializes before her eyes. It meant that it was an urgent message, from one God to the next.

“The SHIELD base is being attacked by an unknown force. We’re in grave danger,” Steve says, urgent and frantic. Screams and chaos can be heard in the background, and the God barely ducks a crashing marble pillar.

Natasha almost scoffs and switches off the image. The Gods had ignored her very existence ever since they had banished you, which was convenient in hiding her pregnancy, but at the same time rather annoying, now that they were begging for help.

That is, until Steve persisted further. “Natasha. This perpetrator has power beyond measure, dark power. It could even exceed Loki’s.”

“......What does this harbinger of hell want?” Natasha asks, steely eyes surveying her homeland.

“Natasha,” Steve repeats, weary eyes hooded with anxiety. “They’re looking for you.”

Down will come baby, cradle and fall.

so that happened.... any thoughts about our new and improved y/n, ruler of the underworld?? loki rlly stirred up a lot of shit huh

reblog or no y/n x natasha reunion

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader angst #marvel #sytoran's 4k celebration #wlw fiction #wlw #gxg #natasha romanoff angst

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quinzzelx · 6 months

Text

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“ Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

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I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #reader insert #imagine #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron

509 notes · View notes

luveline · 7 months

Note

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.”

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell.

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says.

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.”

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?”

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.”

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.”

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety.

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp.

“Are you kidding?”

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.”

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!”

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor.

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture.

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.”

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?”

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.”

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away.

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that.

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too.

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries.

“You okay?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest.

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.”

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you.

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?”

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?”

“What’s that?”

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.”

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers.

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say.

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring.

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks!

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says.

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually.

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.”

You laugh. “No, really?”

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.”

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…”

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back.

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.”

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

Waxing jakes chest hair after he come back from deployment "Son of bitch " and him hearing your evil giggles while pulling off the strip of wax.maybe jake calling you a mother fucker while you keep eye contact

"Baby," Jake tries placating you, buttering you up so you won't put him through hell, "Please be gentle. I'm weak, I'm not used to this, this- this is cruel!"

"It's not cruel," You scoff, pressing down once more over the wax strip on his chest, "It's normal. When I lick your tits I don't want to cough up a hairball."

"And while I'd love for you to- hnngh! Lick my- my tits, darlin'," He pants, even the experimental tug you give the strip to see how much power to give your final pull making him squirm, "I don't think I can- handlethis!"

You give him no warning other than a sick grin, yanking the strip off of his pec and leaving behind a hairless - albeit red - patch behind.

"Oh- Oh my god," He groans, head thumping back against the pillows, "I think you- you ripped my nipple off!"

"Nope," You pinch the tender flesh, "Still here."

"Ow!" He jostles himself on the bed, glaring viciously at you while one of his large, calloused hands comes up to cover his pec, "I need that, y'know?"

"No you don't," You scoff, "They're just decorative."

"Well- yeah! But how weird would I look at the gym if I didn't have nipples? Or- or playing football with the guys. Do you want them to have a reason to pick on me?" His handsome features are twisted in an incredulous scowl, hand still spread protectively over his chest.

"They've already got a thousand reasons to pick on you," You begin peeling apart another wax strip, "Besides, you're gonna look weird anyways if you don't let me finish waxing your chest."

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this," He wheezes, the big breath shaking his voice. He throws his hands over his face, moaning in agony when he feels you secure the second wax strip to his skin, "If you'd told me five years ago that I'd end up stripped and waxed by some psychopath," He drops his hands to glare at you once more, fire in his eyes as you tease a tug at the edge of the strip, "I'd have called you a- motherfucker!"

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akystaracer22 · 8 months

Text

Maybe in Another Life We Would Hate Each Other a Little Less

A chance encounter sheds a little light on Adam that Lucifer couldn't have predicted, leading to a moment he thought he'd never have with the man.

Notes (Aka my thoughts while writing):

God is a dick and I wanna kill xem

Adam folds his wings like a bird because monkey see monkey do

Both these guys were traumatised by the same person and we don’t talk about it enough

Probably Guitarduck/Adamsapple but in a fledgeling platonic kinda way

Refer to my ref for what Adam looks like!

I listened to Rät while writing this and- it kind of fits Adam???

Jesus is God’s favourite child and it fucking shows

How tf did this become a sickfic????

Lucifer gets the experience of being me whenever I make the impulsive move to boot up Char.ai and talk to literally any of the AI’s, get aunt agonied bitch.

Oh my god Adam has middle child syndrome.

Can you tell I attended a Christian school when I was younger???

Adam was hiding just how fucked over he was from the wing rot but he’s not having a good time in this. Most of the latter half of the oneshot is him dazed from both the one set of wing rot and the feeling of someone touching his wing.

Shit emergency wing HC for Adam ig: His wings grow warmer corresponding to his mood, as in when he is in general happier his wings radiate warmth and when he’s in a foul mood they’re just normal or even a little cooler.

In saying that yes Lucifer’s wings glow when he’s happy

Word Count: 1902

Fic under cut!

“Fucking- Shit!”

Lucifer paused, looking behind him and backing up to peek through the crack in the door. This ought to be good.

Sure enough, he was right, this was entertaining.

Adam was ranting again.

Honestly it was a nearly daily thing by this point, probably the only good thing about his daughters decision to let Adam stay at the hotel. He loved his daughter, he really did, by Adam was… Adam.

Lucifer knew he was a lost cause.

But still, didn’t mean Lucifer couldn’t tease the hell out of the man since he was stuck down here with the rest of them.

Lucifer’s smirk at watching the first man rant quickly died as he took in the guys appearance, he looked…

“What is wrong with your wings.”

Adam jerked and twisted around, scowling at him and oops he said that out loud didn’t he.

“Piss off!”

Lucifer, in his typical fashion, did not piss off and instead entered the room, “No seriously what is wrong with your wings.”

Now that he was closer, the king was certain they didn’t look like that a week ago. The feathers, while already having looked like a wreck were duller and the colours seemed almost… muted. Ignoring the already horrific state Adam’s wing were in, they shouldn’t look THAT bad so why…

“Wait-”

“I said-!”

“Have you not been preening you wings?”

Adam went silent, staring wide eyed at Lucifer much to the kings confusion. A beat passed, then two.

“What the fuck is preening?”

Lucifer blinked, he wasn’t serious, was he?

Surely not.

“By the heavens you’re dead serious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Lucifer debated whether he should explain it or not. On one hand, it’s Adam. On the other, Wings were a serious thing. He’d even seen Husker cleaning his wings from time to time, for Adam to just not know…

“You know what? For once my hatred of you is outweighed by my need to show you what’s what,” The fallen seraphim huffed, closing the door behind him and summoning a chair to block it from the outside so Adam couldn’t escape. “Come on we’re fixing this travesty.”

“What part of fuck off you do you not understand?!” The first man snapped, his wings mantling as Lucifer rifled through the closet, dragging out one of the many jars of oil he’d had the foresight to put in most of the rooms, perks of being a guy with basic common sense.

“The part where you’re being stupid and my daughter started rubbing off on me,” Lucifer shot back, his own wings serving well to corral Adam towards the bed, “How you don’t know how to preen your wings is beyond me but that’s ending today.”

“Again- what are you blabbering about.”

Lucifer paused, hand hovering just over Adams feathers. Preening someone elses wings was… intimate. It was something reserved for friends, family, lovers, and stuff… not enemies. Was he really going to just go ahead and clean Adams wings for him?

The seraphim’s eyes flicked over to where the ruined wing was draped over the bed. The wing was already in bad enough shape as it was, if he didn’t do this then wing rot was bound to hit it at some point and-

He didn’t really have a choice, not if he didn’t want to watch someone die of wing rot again.

Adam went stiff under Lucifers touch as he started work on the mans functioning wing, it was the easiest to work with, not the mention the safest to start with. The injured wing would no doubt be sensitive to any interaction, so better to start small.

Ish.

Adam shuddered as Lucifer moved between feather’s, periodically reapplying preening oil as he went. He was right as usual, looking closer most of the barbules had been separated and needed to be locked together again. Grimacing, the seraphim gently scratched out what looked like dried blood from where it was hidden in the base of Adam’s Secondary coverts.

“What are you doing?” Adam whispered, his voice for once lacking it’s usual bite. Lucifer paused for a second in confusion before Adam’s wing flexed back into Lucifer’s hand, “Don’t stop!”

“Okay okay!” The king huffed, working on his primaries, “What I’m doing is called preening. It’s something beings with feathers do to clean them.”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, like birds,” Lucifer agreed, “The oil helps take care of bacteria, but you got to realign the feathers, get rid of the ones ready to moult, and fix the feathers that are out of sorts, though you can just shake the feathers to do that part quicker.”

“Mhm”

Lucifer shifted over to finally tackle the ruined wing and froze, a chill slinking down his spine. As he took in the state of the tattered appendage.

“Shit.”

This close the seraphim could see the red pimples under the thinning layer of feathers surrounding the injury, it was wing rot in its early stages.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Lucifer dove his fingers into the scapulars to shut Adam up while he discreetly conjured up some disinfectant for the rot, if he’s lucky he can treat it now and just get Charlie or Vaggie to deal with it now, knock it over the head before it becomes so visible the others can notice. He ignored Adam’s breath hitching as the seraphim started, just as predicted, the wing was sensitive from the damage done to it.

“But seriously you need to do this more, this is just horrific,” Lucifer grumbled to himself, not really caring if Adam listened, “Honestly I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to you before!”

“Mmmm tried once… I think?”

Lucifer, glanced at Adam’s face, it was pointed away from him, but he could still sense Adam’s attention was on him, “Yeah?”

“Saw the birds doin’ it and tried to copy ‘em,” Adam continued at the prompt, spreading his other wing, “It hurt so I stopped, didn’ know there was a method to this shit or someth’n.”

“You… nobody even tried to teach you?”

“I think they thought I knew,” Adam chuckled sourly, “I think they thought I fu’kin knew how to just- do this. ‘Cause I was meant to right?!” Another laugh, “I bit the fu’kin apple so I shou’da known this kinda shit! Apple of knowl’dge or what’ver.”

Lucifer, wisely, didn’t say anything, he just kept working on Adam’s ruined wing, applying the disinfectant, and fixing what few feathers were still healthy and removing the rest. If it was anyone else in this situation he’s wrap the wing and tell them to rest but… it was still Adam that was in this mess.

“I- why didn’t they teach me? Luci why didn’t they teach me this shit?”

“I… don’t know,” Lucifer replied carefully, deliberately skipping over the butchering of his name that sounded way to close to a nickname for comfort, “Come on, up you get he still got the underside to finish then I’ll be out.”

Adam grumbled but complied, sitting up a little to turn around as Lucifer summoned a pillow for Adam to lean back on. Rolling his neck Lucifer got to work on the auxiliary feathers, the lighter feathers were definitely in better shape, but then again that wasn’t exactly a high bar, and they still were looking rough.

“Jesus was prob’bly taught how to preen himself.”

Lucifer’s shoulders hitched as his wings tucked in against his back abruptly. Jesus… was a rough topic. For all sinners talked about him, Lucifer never met him but from the sinners around that time… it was never a fun conversation. Pretentious once kings cursing his name while hopeless commoners lined up for the exorcists blade, faithful until the end that Jesus would let them into heaven if they just believed in him.

… there was a pattern in there, wasn’t there. Like father like son, he supposed.

“Jesus was made from me and yet he’s God’s favourite fukin kid, course he’d fucking know how to preen,” Adam continued unimpeded, “Doesn’t matter if I was Gods first- Jesus was always fucking better than me.”

Okay! Lucifer was in no way prepared for this conversation, but he highly doubted Adam was even going to remember this conversation, so he just focused on the wings.

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

Lucifer sincerely wished Anthony, or just anyone really would bust down the door at this moment, at least then he could get himself out of this conversation.

“Why do you think that?” the seraphim deflected, moving onto Adam’s good wing and going through his coverts.

“Because none of them ever fucking did this,” Adam waved his hand haphazardly before letting it rest on his chest, “You’re my enemy but you’re fixin’ my fu’kin wings because I’m too stupid and useless to just figure it out myself.”

“Not useless,” The words left Lucifer’s lips without his input, damn himself to double hell, but it managed to shut up Adam, so he kept on the thought train, “You’re not useless you were just never taught, it’s not your fault heaven doesn’t think.”

“Jesus-”

“Is God’s prodigal son and shouldn’t be counted.”

Adam huffed and leaned back on the pillow, “Why’re you good at this?”

“I’ve had aeon’s to learn, and over a decade of putting it in practice,” Lucifer thought about his daughter, a small smile making it’s way into his expression, she really was the best thing to happen to him.

He finished up with Adams good wing and moved onto finishing off the wrecked one. Applying the disinfectant to the infected spots on the underside before reaching for the preening oil again.

“Y’know, maybe in another life we would’ve hated each other less.”

Lucifer just laughed and started preening the wing, yeah right, maybe in a reality where the apple incident never happened, “You’re sick Adam, feverish even.”

“And you’re a wife-stealer.”

“Should have been better in bed.”

“Fuck you,”

Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the first man, earning a tired chuckle. Then the seraphim blinked at the sudden warmth radiating out from the feathers. What in the-?

“Oh… they haven’t done that in a while.”

Lucifer blinked up at Adam who was staring at his feathers in amazement, “Ackde-whuh?”

Adam leaned back and closed his eyes, “Yeah… sometimes they just get warm all of a sudden it’s weird. Hasn’t happened in a while though. Apparently it sometimes happened when Lute was around? I dunno why.”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times before letting out a small “huh” and running a hand through the ruined wing, it was definitely warmer.

Sighing, Lucifer let his hand fall away despite the wing chasing it, “Alright well your wings are definitely cleaner now, so I’ll be out of your hair now.”

The seraphim stood up to leave through the balcony, opening the window and almost stepping out when Adam called after him, still sounding exhausted.

“I can see why they left me for you.”

Lucifer paused, before smiling sardonically and looking back at Adam, who looked like he might have just passed out.

“Tell me that when you’re not delusional from illness and I might believe you.”

With that, Lucifer stepped out and left for his own room… though, if Adam woke up to a small plush duck on his nightstand, that was between Lucifer and the god that cast him down.

But there is one thing Lucifer will admit.

Maybe Charlie wasn't wrong about thinking Adam could be redeemed.

Pings:

@sleepy-hijinx @whatataha @cyborg0109 @birbisanon @legogator @overlord-rey @luckyburgerz @spiny-dogfishes @justakidicarus

#adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fandom #guitarduck #platonic #written by an asexual #fluff #fallen angel adam #fallen angel #wing fic #angst #tw swearing #tw mentions of wing rot #i wrote this #I wrote with on four hours of sleep powered by caffeine and a cold #adamsapple #ashes to ashes dust to dust

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