#ohmygod they really just dig in there...

[kittylordinfinity]

Shjfhjhjfghjgdggf i love how even though the changelings can do magic, the way they chose to break Shining Armor’s barrier is just by repeatedly RAMMING themselves into it sijenjnsyhuehidnj oh my GOD theyre so dumb and i. adore them for it <3

[darabeatha]

/ @005mins when he

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

how about dbf!jake getting jealous? maybe over a younger guy? (who maybe even thinks he's her dad???)

OHMYGOD YES

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

Jake can't breathe. His chest is so tight it feels like someone has weighed him down with bricks. He wants to look away. He wants to look anywhere else. But there's no way he can take his eyes off of you. You, or the guy who's talking to you.

He'd only gotten up to order fresh drinks at the bar. He'd been gone for barely two minutes, but when he turns to check on you, there's already a guy standing in front of the little booth the two of you had claimed - and even from here, Jake can see that the smile you've put on is entirely fake.

It takes him exactly five seconds to decide that he can't care less about the drinks. He pushes through the crowd, rams his elbows into way too many people and ignores all of their insults completely. None of that matters.

"Is there a problem?", he growls when he's just a step away from the fucker talking to you. The guy turns to him and has the audacity to only look mildly surprised. He's young, that's the first thing Jake notices. He's about your age. Then Jake notices his service khakis. And then he notices nothing about the guy anymore, because he looks down at you and notices you - the way you're blinking up at him with wide eyes and seem visibly relieved he's back.

"No, sir", the guy says, before turning back at you and smiling. "I was just asking for your daughter's number."

Daughter.

Jake freezes.

Your phone hits the tabletop hard.

Both of you are too stunned to say anything. Your mouth opens and closes without a single word forming on your lips. Jake doesn't even feel like he exists for three seconds. Daughter. Yeah, damn, you're young enough to be his daughter. His daughter. His daughter. His daughter.

"Oh, I'm-", the guy frowns. "Did I say something wrong?"

You clench your jaw and get up, even as Jake keeps standing and staring and not saying anything at all. His mind is reeling. This entire thing would be way easier if the guy was an asshole. Then, maybe, Jake would just revisit his youth for about two minutes, knock the fucker out, throw you into the back of his truck and take you home. But the guy's not an asshole, not really, and the word daughter keeps running through Jake's head in an endless loop.

"Yes", you snarl, grab your phone and your purse and climb out of the booth. "Good night."

You tuck your arm into Jake's and want to pull him with you through the crowd and out of the bar- but your touch seems to suddenly un-freeze him. Within the blink of an eye, he's wrapped his arms around you and slotted your mouths together.

You let out a surprised squeak that melts into a pleased moan, your arms crossing behind Jake's neck all on their own, pressing closer, pushing against him-

"Oh", the guy says. He'd told you his name when he'd come over. You'd forgotten already. You don't really care about it anyway because Jake has his lips on yours, his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips.

He pulls away far too quickly. You're disoriented for a moment too long, your heart hammering, your skin buzzing with heat. God, this man-

"Less dad and more daddy, I get it", the guy grins, and now he is starting to seem like an asshole. A muscle in Jake's jaw feathers. He draws his arms away from you and pulls yours off of his neck.

"Less petty officer, more admiral", Jake says. He doesn't give the asshole another glance. That barely navy fucker doesn't deserve another glance. "Let's get you home, darling."

[sea-lanterns]

Cowgirl!AU thirsts for you (and your fishies);

Cowgirl!Dehya and/or Cowgirl!Beidou both having you ride their cock/or strap. Their hands holding tightly onto your hips just to keep you steady as you plant your hands on their chest while you move your hips against them. At some point they lean up slightly to whisper in your ear with that husky southern drawl of theirs saying, "Your taking me so good, darling," before flexing their hips up inside you to push themselves inside you even deeper, leaving you gasping and quaking on top of them.

Sheriff!Jean seeking you out to relieve her stress on by bending you over her desk in the sheriff's office and rutting her cock/or strap into you repeatedly. She's slowly losing herself to her frustrations and you can tell by the way she presses your naked body more onto her desk till the wood is just digging into you. Your gonna be hurting so bad once she's done with you but she makes up for it by getting you food and water, praising and holding you and bringing you back to her place after.

Heiress!Ningguang who spoils you fucking rotten with buying you dresses, jewelry, perfume, really just about anything. She just wants to make you feel good, her little doll (as she calls you), and another way she does this is by going down on you. It's rare for her to please another woman like this, but your just so special and irresistible that she can't help but be between your legs eating you out to her hearts content. Nothing makes her heart race more than hearing the pretty sounds you make.

Final one (for now); Outlaw!Shinobu who has to be careful about seeing you considering her unsavory reputation because of the gang she's in. She'll admire you from afar, giving you notes whenever she sees you about how breathtaking you are. Then by midnight, you'll be sneaking her into your room where she'll be worshipping your body, muttering against your skin in her southern drawl about how "scandalous" it would be if people found out she was the one making you scream at night.

SINSSS AOJXJWOJDKSJANZ— 😍

THESE IDEAS ARE SO HOT OHMYGOD—

I have no words. I just want to be their plaything and ride these cowgirls like a horse, holding onto the reins (their shoulders or their neck) and just letting them bounce you up and down while you whine and take all their thrusts…

My favorite ideas are Sherif! Jean and Outlaw! Shinobu since I just know they’d look mouthwateringly hot in cowboy attire 🥵

[angelltheninth]

Ohh, ok, can I have feral Kiba rough fucking Fem!Reader + biting and breeding kinks?

Kiba! I think he was one of first characters that I fawned over in the franchise. He was just so cool and I'm gonna be honest I thought that the fact he had fangs was so cute.

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, rough sex, biting, breeding kink, rutting instincts, mating instincts, feral Kiba

Word count: 0.9k

Ao3

A/N: I'm surprised that there's not a lot of Kiba content out there. He's such a cool guy, and one of the goodest boys in the anime. Where's all the love?

Kiba growled into your ear, his clawed hand digging into your hair scratching, "Stay still babe, I need to get inside, then you can squirm all you want." You arch your back against his naked torso, your ass against his pelvis, while he's trying to work his big cock into you.

You noticed for a few days that he'd been holding back while you were having sex but didn't know why. It was like there was some sort of boundary he set for himself that he would go over, not with out your say so.

He was also struggling every time he was about to finish, not to get there but to hold off through your orgasm long enough for him to pull out, shooting his cum across your cunt and stomach.

When you brought up the issue he was a little bashful about it. Even with your mouth around his cock he was hesitant to admit what he really wanted. It was only when you started riding him, whispering how good his cock feels, how much you love to be filled up, how much you want to feel full of his cum you see something in his eyes shift.

"Kiba? Are you- oh!" He growls into your shoulder as he picks you up by the hips and slams you repeatedly down on his cock a few times. He quickly changes positions, turning you on your stomach, letting his cum drip from between your legs as you try to clamp down around nothing, "Wait, not yet, I'm really close."

"I know baby, just..." Kiba took a deep breath, the tip of his cock rubbing in between your folds, "Hold still." His voice was a full on growl, it sent the most wonderful shivers down your spine and made you spread your legs apart wider, allowing him easier movement. "Tell me if it's too much okay?"

"Okay." You gulped as you felt his clawed hand lay over yours, squeezing and interlocking your fingers as best as he could from this position.

You were not ready for the sheer force of his thrust, for the way he smacked against your ass cheeks with every roll of his hips, keeping you perfectly still while he rutted his cock deep into your cunt. With every stroke you heard him growl, curse and tell you how good you are at taking him, pleasing him, how hot and wet it feels inside you.

"You're still holding back." You clenched your walls around him, tilting your head and bearing your neck to him, "Do you think I can't take you? I can. Please Kiba, fuck me like you mean it, like you want to." You took a deep breath, uttering the two words that made him absolutely lose it, "Breed me."

His fangs snapped close to your ear, on full display, his pupils narrowing into thin, sharp lines. He pushed and pushed, trying to get his cock in deeper than it could go, pulling your hips back, making you moan with every thrust of his thick cock in your dripping pussyhole.

"You wanna be breed huh? Are you my bad girl? A bad girl that wants her cunt filled with my seed?" You bit into the pillow case to stifle your moans. It helped very little. If anything it made Kiba even more animalistic, to know that he's making you feel that good, as if your walls clamping down on his throbbing dick wasn't proof enough.

Your walls started spasming around him, your mind going blank as you orgasmed on his dick, trying to milk every drop of his hot cum, "Yes! Fuck, fill me up, as much as you want! I'm all yours to- ohmygod!"

Kiba huffed and groaned as he sank his cock in deep, flooding your cunt with his hot cum, giving you exactly what you asked for and more. "Wanted to do this for the longest time. You're gonna look so pretty when you're full." His hand sneaks from your hip to pet your stomach.

He pulled back roughly, more jets of cum spraying across your ass and lower back and dripping down your thighs. You tried your hardest to keep as much of it inside, reaching between your legs and pushing it back in with two fingers.

"Damn that's hot. You're so fucking sexy babe. So sexy for me." Kiba leaned down and pressed hot kisses along the back of your sensitive neck, leaving goosebumps and love marks. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"It wasn't just for you trust me." You pulled your fingers out letting the combined cum drip down onto the sheets. Kiba snickered as he settled into bed and pulled you against his chest, "Still not done?" You smile as you look back at him and grind your ass against his still throbbing length.

"It's enough for now." With his fingers he gently gripped your chin and planted his lips against yours, "I love you."

You hummed into the kiss, a little string of saliva still between you two as you ran your tongue over his sharp canines before pulling away, "Then maybe you should share things like this with me more."

"If that's what you want. I'm sorry I was holding back before. Didn't mean to make you worry." Kiba nuzzled his nose against yours, making you giggle at the gesture.

"You can always make it up to me." You husked against his lips, your eyes somehow filled with even more lust then before. Kiba smirked at you and dragged his hand between your legs. You were still sensitive from your orgasm so even the lightest touch on your clit made your hips jerk forward. "We'll canceling our missions for tomorrow, I've got another one for you."

"Sounds like fun. Let's see if you can keep up." Oh. Oh you really liked this new side of him. Hopefully it sticks around for a while.

[yeahyeahchloe]

It Wasnt in my Head (3)

(a/n: pls lmk if u see any typos! )

Summary: Abby is the starting linebacker at UW and when her team starts to falter her coach decides to get the team into ballet, in order to teach them that grace and stability is important in football too. Abby is just as upset about her teammates about this, until she sees her pretty new ballet teacher...

dancer!reader x football!abby

!!ABBY IS STRAIGHT IN THE BEGINNING. READER IS HER GAY AWAKENING!!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

This whole house smelled like total ass.

Dina was excitedly walking next to me trying to guide me to the alcohol, as Ellie looked for her friend.

"Abby!" Ellie exclaimed from my left.

I turned to look into the direction she was facing and just about shit my pants.

It was the pretty blonde from the football team.

She smiled at Ellie and they gave eachother a one armed hug in greeting.

"So this is Dina and Y/n, guys this is Abby," Ellie introduced us both.

Abby nodded her head at Dina in greeting before turning to me and hesitating.

"Hey, yeah no we've met," She said to Ellie signaling at me.

"Oh? Where?" Ellie inquired curiously.

"She is the little ballerina that got stuck teaching the varsity starters," Abby told her with a smirk.

"Y/n, you didn't tell me you were teaching the varsity starters,"

"I, uh, I guess I didn't think I would be running into one like this," I answered Ellie before turning to Abby, "Well, Abby, its nice to properly meet you,"

"Pleasures all mine," She answered with a friendly smile and a slight head nod.

Oh wow fuck me.

"Okay, well were gonna go get drunk. Bye!" Dina said, pulling my arm and dragging me away towards the kitchen.

I decided to just pour a vodka soda for me and Dina while we chatted.

"So what do you think of Ellie's friend?" She asked, sending a smirk my way.

"Oh, god, was is that obvious?" I reddened and hid my face with my hands.

Dina guffawed before answering, "Only to me I think, but I get it. She's totally your type,"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh c'mon! She's tall, super built, big nose, commanding presence, athlete. She was basically made just for you,"

"Ok ok fine, she's perfect, but I am way to awkward to ever initiate anything,"

"Well, maaybe just try talking to h-" Dina cut herself off with a large gasp, "Ohmygod Jesse is right there!!" She gasped, pointing to the boy across the room. "I'm gonna go talk to him,"

"No Dina don't leave me,"

"I'm going in,"

"No, D, please!" I begged her as she strutted off.

I turned around and started digging for stuff to make myself a drink, but the stupid grenadine was too high on the shelf.

A hand reached above my own and grabbed and handed it to me.

"Thank yo- oh its you!" I said, turning around to face the person who had helped me.

"What, wishing for someone cooler?" Abby teased with a smirk.

"Ugh, no. Dina is off with Jesse now, so, I'm gonna drink it off," I told her, gesturing to Dina and Jesse making out on a couch.

"Oh god lame. But I kinda get it, I was the same with this one boyfriend,"

My head snapped back to her with a look of disbelief, and before my brain could catch up to my mouth, I blurted; "You aren't gay??"

"No? What, you are?" She asked, matching my disbelief.

"Well, yeah," I said as if it was obvious.

It really isn't, but I'm trying.

"Ah, well, you had me fooled," She said, face tinged slightly pink.

"Yeah, me too" I answered her, exhaling through my nose in an awkward laugh.

"Well aren't we a pair, breaking our stereotypes and whatever," She told me, confidence fully back on. I laughed a little before she continued, "So do you, like, have a girlfriend?"

"Oh, uh, not at the moment, no. Trying to take it easy right now," I responded, before following it with "You must have a boyfriend, though"

"Nah, no. You could say I'm taking it easy too, real focused on grades and sports,"

"What are you studying?"

"Pre-med. My dad's a surgeon, so its kinda in the genes,"

I was shocked by her answer, its not often you see a football player spending their time actually studying something useful instead of doing drugs and partying.

"What about you?" She asked.

"Oh, uh, the arts. I do painting and stuff. And obviously dance, uh, and also law, I'm looking to go FBI," I said, getting embarrassed by my much lamer response.

"Oh, that actually sounds really cool. I bet you have a shit ton of work," She told me, seeming genuinely interested.

"Yeah, well, you only get a scholarship once,"

"Yeah, yeah, true,"

The conversation was starting to falter so I told her to follow me.

"Hey Ellie!" I greeted as we approached the girl.

"Hey, are you ready to..." She made a signal with two fingers signing she wanted to smoke.

"Hell yeah," I answered before turning to Abby, "Wanna join?"

"Of course I do," She responded with an excited glint in her eyes.

We squeezed our way through sweaty bodies and makeout sessions all the way to the back of the large house where the yard was.

Ellie reached in to her right pocket, dug around for a bit, scowled and then reached into her left pocket where she took out a small joint and a lighter.

"Y/n?" She said my name, gesturing the blunt to me, "Wanna light it?"

"My pleasure" I held the joint up to my lips, the flicked the lighter and lit it. I instantly felt the hot smoke flow through my throat into my lungs. I turned my head away from the two in front of me out of politeness and blew out the smoke.

15 minutes later we were all stoned.

"Hey. Hey, beautiful, aren't you like not 'sposed to do this? Cuz you, like, are gonna be a doctor or whatever?" I spoke while turning to Abby.

"Maybe, but I think all be ok," She chuckled at my state.

She held her weed good.

I didn't.

Ellie held hers good.

I really didnt.

I went to answer Abby when Dina came running up to us.

"Hey guys!" She greeted us.

"Heyyy D," I said to her elongating every syllable.

Dina took one look at me before turning to Ellie with the look a mom would have after her kids stole a cookie from the jar.

"Ellie, come on. I told you not to let her do stupid shit like this anymore, you know she's a total lightweight,"

Ellie looked around defensively and held her hands up in surrender, "Hey man, she asked for it. Besides I didn't do any, yaknow, for protection,"

Dina sighed, grabbed my arm, grabbed Ellie's, and told us were going home. I shouted a goodbye to Abby that was somewhere along the lines of "Bye gorgeous see you in class!" and shuffled alongside Dina out the door.

The drive home was filled with Ellies playlist, and when me and Dina climbed up the stairs and into out apartment we bid our goodnights.

My mind was fuzzy the whole time though.

It was full of one thing.

Abby Anderson.

a/n: this took forever to get out, whoops. working on pt 4 asap, might post later tonight if im feeling spicy.

[ghostlykeyes]

I'm feeling so totally normal about Denji so like denji with reader who both are hella virgins trying to have sex for the first time

virgin Denji so sweet LOVE him

Warnings: 18+ Denji, explicit sex, AFAB pronouns/anatomy, Denji's POV.

dare et accipere.

Denji knows there’s not much he can give you. 

He’s supposed to be listening to you, and he really, really wants to. Your voice is coming out in a low, gentle hum. It’s buzzing around his head like a late-night summer moth tempted by a flickering streetlight, but never quite landing. But your hand, your hand has landed. It’s resting on his knee and he thinks the warmth that’s seeping into his skin through his pants might set him on fire. Blistering, intense, somehow not unpleasant. But it’s enough to scramble his brain, to cross the wires a little. 

So he’s supposed to be looking at you, listening to you, but he can’t stop thinking about how his room looks. His room, of all things. There was a time when he would have been so glad to have a girl in his room, he wouldn’t have thought about anything except girl and room and ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod and no amount of dirty laundry would poke through her feminine smokescreen. But you, you’re different. 

His eyes flicker around the room: underneath you both, a mattress, the sheets just washed but freckled with permanent stains. On his nightstand a candle Nayuta made at school, allegedly smelling like warm vanilla (really, it just stinks like somebody forgot cookies in the oven). There’s a curtain, bought second-hand, fixed over his bedroom window with thumbtacks. Over everything a dusting of dog hair. And it’s enough for him, really, it is. 

But he can’t stop thinking that you, you deserve new clean sheets, romantic music filling the air instead of the hum of an air conditioner, a whole damn department-store-section of candles. The weight of everything he doesn’t have presses into his bones. It digs its thumbs into his chest. He starts to think, what the hell, you deserve more than him—

And then your soft hand rubs against his cheek. His thoughts evaporate. Poof. 

“Denji? What are you thinking about, honey?”

“Um,” he says, very eloquently. Denji goes completely pink. His hands won’t stop moving in his lap. He rips off a sharp corner of fingernail, lets it tumble out of his fingers and onto the floor. If he keeps picking at his fingernails, he’s going to start bleeding. That thought doesn’t save his cuticles. Denji squishes a loose tag on his index finger. He pulls.

You giggle. Your soft hands close over his, prying his fingers apart. Denji’s lips quirk. You squeeze him in your grip, and sigh. 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” you tell him. You squeeze his chin between your soft, soft fingers and lift his chin until your cool breath fans his burning cheeks. The smile you give him is gentle, delicate, like a flower blooming. And god, his chest tightens. His heart hums in his chest, growling chainsaw-loud. The buzzing in his ears threatens to swallow him whole. “I’m nervous too,” you admit. “But I want it to be you.”

“I want it to be you, too,” he blurts out. Thank god his brain can go on autopilot sometimes because he feels so pleasantly tangled up, he has no idea how to form words right now. But, well, who needs words, anyway. Your eyes flutter shut, and you keep his chin trapped between your fingers. You blow a sigh out of your mouth, like somehow maybe your nerves will go out with it. 

He knows he’s supposed to close his eyes to kiss—he knows that’s a rule that someone somewhere made up, and everyone is supposed to follow. But he can’t help it. He wants to watch you as long as he can. You’re starting to lean in. He catches the softest hint of your shampoo. Again, on autopilot, his hand finds your cheek. Denji’s rough thumb skims over your cheekbone. You smile then, so bright, and you timidly catch your bottom lip between your teeth, and holy, holy, holy shit, Denji thinks. A shiver shakes down his spine. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. And you deserve everything, absolutely everything, but you’re here with him. Denji. With his chainsaw heart and his bare-walled room and his hands that don’t know how to touch a woman (yet). His hand trembles a little against your warm cheek. His throat’s dry, and so is his mouth, dry like cotton. He’s nervous, yes, because it’s you, and because it’s sex. He’s nervous but dear god he’s ready, the way his pants are too tight, almost choking him and the pounding in his chest all shout ready, ready, never been so ready. So it kills him to stop but ugh, you’re such a nice pretty girl. You really do deserve at least one candle.

“Wait wait wait,” he chokes. Your eyes fly open. Your spine straightens as you pull back, so fast and half-frantic you could almost call it ‘recoiling’.

“Did I do something wrong…?” There’s nervousness sticking to your voice. 

“No,” Denji assures quickly, squeezing your hand. “Just hold on a second, okay? And close yer eyes again.” Your shoulders relax. The gentle, timid smile blooms back across your face. 

Denji scrambles up from the bed. There’s a fluorescent pink lighter lounging next to Nayuta’s candle and he snatches it up. Flicking it quickly, he holds the flame to the wick and smiles lopsided as the flame catches. He lets the lighter clatter out of his hand back onto the desk. Denji plops back onto the bed beside you, catching one of your hands in his. 

“Ta-da,” he announces. You open your eyes and he presents the lit candle with an enthusiastic wiggle of his fingers. You make a showy gasp and cover your open mouth.

“Wow! All for me?” You tease, and bump his shoulder with yours. He grins. Tease all you like, but you can’t hide how hard you’re blushing or the way that just one candle makes your eyes light up like a whole damn Christmas tree. Denji feels a warmth start in the center of his chest and spread out, all gentle-like. It pools in his stomach, his fingers, his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “Anything for my girl.”

‘My girl’ makes you melt into him. You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh, looking up at him with those pretty-pretty eyes. He brushes a kiss right between your eyebrows, and lingers there a moment. Because yes he wants to sleep with you, and yes maybe he imagined losing his virginity as something sloppy, sweaty, pulled away from him quick and unceremoniously like a band-aid. But Nayuta is at a sleepover and you have nothing but time tonight, so why rush? Why not savor it?

(No. He’s not stalling because he’s nervous. No way.)

“This feels kinda sappy,” you laugh, rippling through the silence. Denji squishes your hand.

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling lopsided. “It kinda does, doesn’t it? Who woulda thought I could be so romantic?”

“I like it, though,” you assure.

“Good,” he says.

“But I wanna have sex with you now. If that’s okay.”

“Oh,” he says. A beat passes. His brain is in total-meltdown mode. Not a single coherent thought to speak of. Autopilot takes control again and makes him inch closer to you on the mattress. You both ignore the squeaking. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”

You take his face in your hands, holding him still, and lean forward to gently push your lips together. It’s a quiet, sweet peck before you pull away. Once. Twice. On kiss three Denji flicks his tongue out to push against your lips and relishes in your quiet gasp. He’s kissed a handful of girls and he’s definitely read his fair share of dirty manga, enough to have good instincts. He lifts a palm to caress your babysoft face before dragging it back to tangle in your hair. His other hand finds your left breast and camps out there. 

“Denji,” you sigh into his open mouth, in an airy kind of voice that goes straight to his dick. His fist tightens in your hair and he’s desperate, he’s got to taste you. He slips his tongue inside your mouth and curls it along the roof of your mouth. Denji licks a shuddering stripe across you. Your back arches, mashing your tit into his hand. He whines. 

You chew on his bottom lip, timid enough that he barely feels your teeth. But it’s enough to make his hands tremble against you. 

“Mmmmm,” he hums, deep and dark and low. The prick is enough to remind him he’s got hands and, oh shit, he should probably be doing something with them. He unwinds his fist from your hair, trails it slowly down your neck until you shudder into his touch. Denji’s hand cups your other breast. Experimental, he squishes them, savors how they mold to his hands. 

“That’s…” you’re stammering, breathing your unsteady words into the inch of space between your mouth and his. 

“Good, baby?” Denji double checks. 

You nod before slamming your mouth back against his, almost splitting his lip on his needlepoint teeth. The sting makes him palm your chest again, probably harder than he should. But you make a sweet little desperate sound that he swallows whole, a keening note that he takes as encouragement. Timid, he runs his fingers along the firm shell of your bra, feeling where the material starts and ends under the thin fabric of your shirt.

“You can take it off,” you pull away from his mouth to whisper in the shell of his ear. And then, more firmly, “I want you to take it off”

Denji doesn’t need to be told twice. He snatches the loose hem of your shirt and pulls, yanking it off you so quickly it almost gets stuck on your arms. You splutter, teasingly.

“Can you take it off faster?” You giggle, helping him unsnare the fabric from your armpit.

“Can always try!” He says brightly, offering you a wide, cheesy grin. You roll your eyes. He finally gets the damn shirt loose and slides it quickly off your arm, tossing it over his shoulder.

“No thanks, I don’t need you to rip all my shirts to shreds.”

“Mmmmm,” he bumps his nose against yours, rubs against you affectionately. Denji’s calloused palms skim down your arms. His fingers tingle like electricity, like TV static. “I dunno, it seems like a good idea to me.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you grip his shoulders, steadying yourself before swinging a leg over his waist. Your knee brushes against his dick and he whines, full on whines, and he doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. Denji sinks one hand into your soft thigh. His other spreads out over your spine, helping you balance until you’re comfortably straddling him. Your thighs, god, your soft, squishy, wonderful thighs, how did he get so lucky, squeeze against his legs, and the heat explodes across him like a wildfire. Tender, you press a light kiss to the top of his head and sigh. The inhale pushes your tits right into his face. He almost cums right then and there.

“Fuck,” he breathes. The word fans hot air across your collarbone and your skin explodes into goosebumps. Denji’s hands scramble across your back, looking for your bra clasp. You arch into his touch.

“Up,” you murmur into his ear, earning a shudder. “And to the left.”

He follows your instructions well and hones in on the snaps. Denji’s fingers tremble but it doesn’t stop him from unclasping your bra. His fingernails scrap lightly against your skin and right there, he’s got it. The bra snaps open, and you slip the straps off.

Denji’s seen your boobs twice. The first time, when you’d broken into an apartment-complex swimming pool and lost your bikini top trying to dunk his head underwater. The second time, you’d been sharing the bathroom, changing clothes. He’d made to (reluctantly) slip out as soon as you’d started unzipping your shorts but you’d given him a wink, squeezed past him, and locked the bathroom door. “I don’t mind if you stay,” you’d whispered against the shell of his ear. 

He’s jerked off to both events multiple times but holy shit, this? With you breathing heavy, topless, and straddling him? Your hard nipples just inches from his face, your cheeks warm and blushing, you biting your lip as if to say I hope you like them? This takes the absolute fucking cake. He’s gonna be touching himself to this for months.

Denji’s hands shoot to your breasts. For a moment, he just holds them gently, still, his eyes wide and cheeks cherry-red. 

“Um,” he chokes out. “Baby, I dunno if I’m gonna last long enough to…”

You giggle all sweet, taking his face in your hands. 

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you reassure. “We have time, right? I just want to make you feel good.” 

Okay, you’re a certified fucking angel. It’s not the first time he’s thought that. But it is the first time he’s thought that while you’re half-naked on top of him, letting him feel up your chest. And despite the fact that oh, the way you said that just made him so painfully rock hard he thinks he could cum right then and there if his boxers shift the right way, he plans on showing you. That you’re an angel. That he needs you. That he loves you.

With a jerky motion, Denji maneuvers his hands back to your thighs and pivots you. You fall back onto the mattress with a squeal. Denji quickly scrambles over top of you, until his knees settle next to your thighs and his hands press into the mattress, just above your shoulders. Your doe eyes blink up at him. For a second he looms over you, committing the sight of you all laid out—all for him—to memory. 

He leans in until his nose brushes against yours, offers you a butterfly-light kiss. 

“C’mon, baby,” he breathes. “Wouldn’t be fair if I just laid back n’ let you make me feel good…” 

He attacks your neck like he’s starving. The wet suck of his lips trailing down along your jugular tugs a moan out of your mouth and fuck, you’ve gotta stop making noises like that or he really is going to cum in his pants. Denji nips your skin, gently, of course. The sharp edge of his shark-teeth is enough to make you bleed. He doesn’t want that—a hickey or two, though? That could be nice, he thinks as he sucks the dip between your collarbones. Something dark purple, something in the shape of his lips that reminds you of him.

“Lemme make you feel good, too,” he rumbles against your skin. You squirm up against him, your thigh brushing his cock. He sucks in a breath and drops his forehead to the dip between your tits. His fucking nerves are on fire. Denji lingers there for a moment, waits for the heartbeat-throbbing in his dick to calm down. 

He tries to think of the unsexiest thing he can, just to hold on. Paying taxes, bringing the dogs to the vet, pulling hair out of the shower drain. It only half-works because no matter how much he tries to think about something else, the smell of your body wash, the music of your heavy breathing, and the heat radiating from your naked tits coalesces into a mind-bending smokescreen. Fuck, you’re so sexy.

Denji fills his hands with your chest and licks a lazy stripe down the center of your torso. Your back arches into him. As he gets lower you tremble, quaking and moaning and oh, Denji thinks, I could do this all freakin’ day. His tongue stills against the barrier of your shorts (still on, unfortunately). He looks up at you. Denji raises an eyebrow, questioning, but your head is thrown back and you’re moaning his name—won’t stop moaning it between heavy breaths—so he takes that as an okay to pop the button. 

Your shorts slide off you easily, and you lift your legs to help him tug the fabric off. Denji’s hit with the sudden scent of ‘girl’. He can’t describe it, but it’s a little musky, a little sweet. A little wet spot seeps through the thin fabric of your underwear. The sight of you in your panties generates a shiver that reverberates from the top of his spine, down through every nerve in his crotch.

He breathes out, shaky. Denji gulps. He’s not afraid, really, or even nervous anymore. His raging hormones vaporized every single feeling except the need to be inside you. It’s just that he’s dreamed of having you like this so long, ever since the first time he saw you, and he’s half afraid that any second he’s going to wake up in a tangle of sticky sheets. Still single, still a hopeless virgin, still no ‘you’ to give himself to. He could weep at the thought.

Denji shakes the thoughts out of his head. He leans towards your core, until he can feel and smell and holy shit, almost taste you. Carefully, he hooks his index finger in the bridge of your panties. You whimper as his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. He swallows a moan at the sound.

“Can I—”

“Yes, Den, please, just touch me,” you whine, lifting your hips toward him. He bites his lip at your desperate attempt for more friction. Just for a second he reflects on how lucky he is, on how badly you want him. But he’s not going to keep you waiting.

Denji tugs your panties down. He doesn’t bother to slip them off your legs. They hang crooked off your left ankle and you open your mouth, probably to tease him. You don’t get the chance—his warm mouth is on you before you can speak. Your quip melts into a deep moan. 

Denji shudders between your legs. Your thighs bracket his head, squeezing tightly. He doesn’t mind the pressure. It keeps him grounded, a little, because holyfuck his head is spinning. Nothing in the world could glue back all the little pieces your pussy’s taste has broken him into. Perfectperfectperfect. His rough hands keep your legs lifted, trapping you at an angle that lets him lick you unrestricted. Experimentally, he slides his tongue from the top to the bottom. He tries to note which places make you squirm hardest. He tries, but fuck, he can’t make anything stick in his brain. So he lets his tongue take over. 

It’s sloppy at first. Not that it matters much. Everywhere he licks and sucks turns you into a trembling mess, whining and fisting the sheets. He dips his tongue inside. Denji’s eyes roll back. Holy. Shit. You’re so warm he could just fucking live down here, pushing his tongue into you all day.

A few weeks ago you’d mentioned sex and Denji, determined not to fuck it up with his inexperience, clumsy hands, had called Kishibe. (Yes, Kishibe, and yes, ew. Asking for sex tips from that man was the weirdest conversation he’d ever had.) Despite the fact Denji doesn’t remember much of what the old man said (how is he supposed to think with his tongue in your cunt), he distinctly remembers this; pay attention to your clitoris. 

Denji’s tongue maps the wet skin. In the back of his mind, he’s half-concerned he won’t find it. Gentle, hungry, he licks towards the top of your pussy, higher, higher, until—fucking ow. If the way you just pulled his hair says anything, he found it. 

“Relaaaaaax,” he breathes against your hot pussy. You whine from above him. “I’m gonna go slow, okay? Lemme know if it’s too much.” 

Closing his eyes, Denji says a silent prayer you won’t ever tell him to stop, because this may be his new favorite place on earth. Then he timidly closes his mouth around your sensitive knot. Encouraging, you gasp his name.

Denji takes his time, sucking softly. (It’s not a doorbell, kid, Kishibe’s voice rattles through his brain. When you’re eating a lady out you need to be gentle.) He savors the little whines his tongue shakes out of you. You’re writhing around his mouth like a live wire.

Timid, Denji removes a hand from your thigh and spreads your lips. If you’re going to take his dick (supposing he even makes it that long) he needs to stretch you out. Slowly, he presses his index finger into your pussy. He sucks in a breath as your muscles clench around him. The wetness, the pressure. Denji imagines the heat and the softness closing around his cock. He groans from somewhere deep, deep in his lungs. His nerves are spitting electricity.

“This okay?” He asks, mouth still flush to your cunt. You take a second to breathe and adjust around his finger before blowing out a breath.

“Yeah, it’s good. It feels tight but…it’s not bad.”

“M gonna put another finger in, ‘kay?” 

You nod. His middle finger prods your entrance, stilling against the hot flesh for a second. Denji works it in, and yeah, he thought it was tight before, but now? The pressure against his fingers is almost unreal. A shiver tumbles down his spine. His skin explodes in goosebumps. 

The last tidbit of information Kishibe gave him burns through his brain—make her cum before you get in, alright? Once you’re really fucking you’re not going to last long enough to make her feel anything. Denji needs to be in you soon or he’s going to be sitting there, sheepish , cum staining the front of his pants. 

So he picks up his pace. He works his fingers in and out, gentle, but still fast enough that it makes you whine and clench around him. He moves around you clockwise and counter-clockwise, then his tongue starts spelling out the alphabet. And then once he’s through that and you’re yelling his name at the ceiling, but you’re not quite there, he starts his grocery list. He’s halfway through ‘seaweed nori’ before you unleash this noise, this deep, dark call that’s almost scary (but definitely sexy) and squeeze your thighs around his head so tight it makes his neck hurt. 

“Denjidenjidenden, holyshit, that’s so good, Denji,” you scramble strings of curse words and his name. It’s an angel’s choir to his ears. Your body shakes like you’re about to fly apart. He can’t see much of you from where he’s trapped against your pussy but he doesn’t care, this is the best view he could ask for anyway. You’re perfect no matter what angle he’s viewing you from. He lets you ride the orgasm out, lets your breath start to steady and your thighs gradually un-vice from his head.

“Babyyyyy,” you whine. Your voice is so cute and sweet. It drags him from between your legs. He just has to look at those big, worshiping doe eyes you’re giving him. He presses a kiss to your lips and tingles at the way you lap up your own wetness off his mouth. For a virgin, you’re not shy. 

“I…I wanna go down on you, now,” You whisper to him. Denji’s jaw tightens, and his eyes roll back in his head. His hips jerk, completely involuntarily, dragging his throbbing cock against your leg. Electricity surges through his limbs. It’s almost over, right then and there. You move to undo his pants and he lets you, but he grinds a warning through his still-clenched teeth.

“Baby, if you do that, I’m not gonna be able to uh, last long enough to…” You giggle and shimmy both his pants and boxers off in one smooth pull. The air hits his sensitive dick and he whines your name. Half-a-prayer, half-a-plea. Your name sounds so good in his mouth, he thinks through the haze. 

“Okay,” you say lightly. “Next time?”

“Next time,” he says. Or at least he wants to say that, but then your hand closes around his cock and he can’t speak. He groans instead, shoving his head into the crook of your neck. 

You breathe, deep, but your words quiver.

“I think I’m ready, Denji.”

And in his fantasies that’s the moment he sinks into you—the moment he fills you up, the moment that you become his and he becomes yours. 

But he knows that tremble in your voice. It’s the one that haunted you when you asked him out for smoothies, (as a date, you’d squeaked after a second of silence). The one that colored your tone when you called him once, panicked, whispering that a guy might be following you home. You’re scared. 

So he slows down, and he presses all his love into a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Hey,” he says, taking your face in his hands. “It’s me, okay? Your Denji. Everything’s gonna be okay. If it’s too much we can stop right then ‘n there. Okay, peachy?”

And you giggle, because he only calls you ‘peachy’ when he’s trying to make you laugh. And suddenly, he makes everything okay again. 

“Okay, love,” you nod your head. You reach down between his legs. When your hand finds his dick you give him a loose stroke before lining him up at your wet, soft entrance. The head of his dick brushes against your heat. Denji bites his lip so hard he almost draws blood. He makes a fist in your hair, careful not to pull, and you drop a feather-light kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I’m ready,” you say. This time your voice is steady. He knows you mean it. You’re ready.

Slowly, so slowly, Denji eases his hips forward. You suck in a breath as he just barely pushes in. He knows he needs to be gentle but holy shit. The head of his cock works into your core. It’s so warm and so, so tight. Denji’s head falls forward, his messy hair dragging over your face. The sensation is overwhelming, unbearable almost. Every single one of his nerves is in overdrive. It feels like they’re all poking into each other with a million needles but somehow it’s hot and it’s electric and it’s absolute bliss. 

You’re vice-tight around him and Denji doesn’t even think he’s going to fit. Carefully, he inches it in, panting. Your pussy’s squeezing him tighter than he’s ever squeezed himself jerking off. Is this what it’s going to feel like every time? The thought sends a pins-and-needles shock through his entire groin and he moans, half a grunt, half your name. 

“I—fuck—I don’ wanna hurt you,” he breathes, his fists white-knuckling the sheets. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you keen back, almost breathless, boneless. “It’s okay, Den. I can take you.”

He gulps at that, and pushes his cock in. It takes every fucking ounce of restraint in his body not to start humping you like an animal because god. above. This is the best he’s felt, ever, in his life. And it’s better than he could ever have imagined, it’s better than any dirty magazine could make it look and sound. If this is sex then he’s never putting his life in danger again. He’s got to keep living on no matter what just so that he can come home at the end of the day and fuck you.

You’re mind-numbingly tight. Denji grits his teeth around your name and eases his hips back. It’s hard for girls, sometimes, he remembers, and there’s no way he’s going to let himself fuck you, hard, unrestrained, squash his virginity into nothingness. Not if it hurts you. 

“This is good,” you breathe airily, and press your fingernails into his back. 

“Mmmmmmm,” Denji moans, pushing back into you. Words are impossible. He rocks his hips back-and-forth, back-and-forth. The way it’s tugging pretty little noises out of you is divine and shit, he can’t help thrusting into you a little faster, a little more greedy. You feed his passion by screaming his name. Your pussy squeezes around him. Denji gulps. The tightness is bunching up in his abdomen, deep and low inside him. It’s coming—what, it's been like a minute, tops?—but he can’t stop it, the pleasure’s fucking smashing through him. It’s tidal-waving through his limbs, rippling everywhere but collecting in his groin. Denji moans your name, tries to warn you, “baby, baby I’m gonna—” and then he’s jerking out of you, sudden and almost severe. His fist closes around his dick, pumping, and he’s cumming. Hard and fast and thick and all over your pretty tummy.

He can’t even be embarrassed because what the fuck this feels sosososo good, it’s fucking unimaginable and he is never, ever, ever going to jerk off again. It’s sex, with you, only sex all sex forever and ever sex. Denji whimpers your name, clinging on to you like you’re the only thing that might stop him from exploding right out of his body. Everything’s all tingly and his nerves are static and his vision’s white and, just, fuuuuuuuck. There’s no words to describe this. But he hopes the way he’s whining into your neck and his whole body’s writing tells you plain and clear how good you make him feel.

After the lightbulb-flash of that orgasm, he’s completely jellybones. Denji collapses, thankfully, far enough to your left that he only flops on your arm and doesn’t crush all of you. You giggle, giddy with sex and love. You snag his boxers from the corner of the bed and wipe the cum off your tummy with them, and shit, he really should’ve gotten you a towel but he literally cannot fucking move. You snuggle up underneath his arm and he accepts you, pulling you into his chest. Despite the dusting of sweat, despite the smell of sex, despite your wetness slicking both your thighs, he can’t get close enough to you. He squeezes you, plants a kiss to the top of your head. You both settle in, tangled in his bedsheet, and let your breathing even out.

“Thank you,” you hum after a while, nuzzling him. You’re so sincere it makes his heart melt in his chest a little. Because, what could you ever thank him for? You, sweet you, beautiful you, angelic you? He should bow at your feet just for letting him breathe the same air as you, let alone touch you. He’s about to say that, but you sigh and he knows you’re not done speaking yet so he waits. You walk your fingers along his naked collarbone, just basking in the warmth. “For making that so good for me.” He squeezes you tighter to him, nuzzles into your neck affectionately. “And for, um. For giving me your first time. I know it’s not a big deal for a lot of people, but it felt really special. This, I mean,” and you sigh, and he presses a kiss to the warm, inviting skin of your neck. “...us.�� You finish. Denji couldn’t agree more. He’s glad you’re good with words, because him…not so much. But it feels good to hear the way you feel, spoken plainly, put out on display. He feels the same.

“Aw, baby,” he murmurs, and pulls you into him. He wriggles up, maneuvering until his nose presses into the skin of your temple, and his words breeze gently over your ear. “I’m glad I got to do it with you,” he says, and seals his words with a kiss. “Forget my first time, y’know? I’ll give you every single thing I have.”Denji knows he can’t give you much—not everything you deserve, at least. But giving you all of himself seems like a good place to start.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XII

The Moan

“I want buns of steel. But also, buns of cinnamon,” Elain Archeron muttered, as she pulled out a pan of cinnamon buns from the oven. It was a strange choice, but this was Feyre’s favourite treat, and Elain felt that she owed it to her sister on her birthday.

Elain was running late. But there was a lot to do.

Feyre had changed her mind at the last minute, and they weren’t going to a Moroccan restaurant anymore. Instead, the restaurant was catering, the party was at Feyre’s loft, and Elain was tasked with making desserts. And there were thirty people invited, though with Feyre’s friends, it was quite possible that many more would drop by.

Now, Elain was running behind. She had to make a cake too, because Feyre requested her cake, and not one from a bakery. Elain was pretty proud of the cake, though she had no idea how she was going to transport it and carry it, but she wasn’t concerned about the logistics right now.

“Piglet, you are being very rude,” she told her pug. Predictably, she received no response.

As she mixed icing sugar, lemon juice and double cream for the icing, she continued, “That’s fine. It’s entirely up to you if you want to play introvert today. However, don’t expect treats then. You can’t be a glum introvert and still want treats.”

To that, Piglet expanded a mournful moan.

“No,” Elain said. “I don’t even know if you’ll get your Advent Calendar treat today. Unless daddy wants to give it to you, don’t count on me.”

Piglet looked sadly at his calendar, sniffling and barking weakly.

In about ten minutes, he raised his head, but didn’t get up. But Elain knew why–because in the next moment, the doorbell rang. 

God she was running really, really late!

Wiping her hands with a towel, Elain fluffed up her hair–she wasn’t even sure why she was doing that–and went to the door.

When she opened it she was faced with not one, not two, but three men.

Three giant men. They looked wild, and dangerous, and beautiful. Not the men of this age or this time. They seemed ancient and powerful, like the warriors of old.

Not to say that they were dressed in armour or anything. 

In fact, all three were wearing identical black suits, which probably cost as much as a downpayment for a house, and white shirts, open to various lengths on their brown, muscular chests.

Elain whooshed out a breath.

Her lady parts did a funny squeezie-squeeze, especially at the sight of Azriel Night, whose dark golden skin contrasted gorgeously with the white shirt and the black tattoos that snaked from under the collar of his shirt.

“Gentlemen,” she said at last. “Please, come in.”

“Ready for us, beautiful?” Azriel smiled and winked at her.

“Yeah, all three of you…”

Initially, Azriel self-invited himself to be Elain’s date to the birthday party. That was followed by him telling her that he’d be bringing Rhysand as well, since Rhysand needed to be introduced to Feyre. But, apparently, Cassian was also ready to party, since he was standing right here, smirking and looming over everything and everyone.

“Brothers, let me introduce you properly,” Azriel announced, once they were inside. “Lady Elain Archeron, my future wife and the future mother of my children.”

“Ohmygod,” was all Elain managed to breathe, her eyes wide and her cheeks red.

Cassian chuckled under his breath. 

“Az is mental. Don’t mind him,” Cassian waved his hand, as he shouldered his way in.

He was strikingly handsome in a rough, lumberjack-chic kind of a way. Big. At least 6”6. He was probably a Viking or something like that in the past life. A Fae General. A chieftain, who’d smear himself in paint and fight the enemies with all sorts of terrifying weapons. He looked mighty fine in his bespoke suit, but it seems like all these modern trappings were little more than a nuisance to him, and he’d be just as comfortable in some fighting leathers.

“Hi Elain!” he boomed, looking around and whistling softly. “Nice digs, Lady. I’ve seen castles that aren’t as fancy as this. Is it too late for me to become a matchmaker?”

Elain smiled and he pulled her in for a quick hug.

“You are my future sis-in-law apparently!”

“Oh god, Cassian, not you too!” she moaned. 

“Step aside, Lothario,” Azriel hissed at him and Cassian laughed.

“I’d be worried too. He knows I am irresistible to the ladies,” he announced proudly.

“I am positive that Lady Elain can resist you.”

With that, the third man, a lithe, tall, slender, muscular specimen, with an aristocratic bearing, a bit of a posh sneer, and an impressively beautiful face, pushed past Cassian and then gently took Elain’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Lady Elain Archeron. Allow me to introduce myself. Rhysand Darling.”

“Just Elain,” she told him, but curtsied nevertheless, adding, “Lord Darling.”

He smiled. He reeked of elegance and good breeding. 

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the woman who’s bewitched my surly brother.”

“I am not surly,” Azriel threw with a frown.

Elain reached for him and then took Azriel’s hand in hers. 

“He is alright,” she approved, smiling at him. “He’s grown on me.”

“I believe you know my mother and my sister,” Rhysand commented, as he clasped his hands behind his back and circled the formal living room and the parlour, admiring the art on the walls.

“Kandinsky,” he muttered to himself.

“I do,” Elain confirmed. “Lady Selene and the Duchess are members of the Women’s Institute, as are my sisters and I.”

“Wait, what?” Cassian gaped at the two of them. “You know each other? You know Selene?”

“We circulate in the same places,” Elain said vaguely.

Scowling, Azriel growled, “Yeah, with the Queen, right?”

“Her Majesty was a member of the Institute as well. The Sandringham Chapter to be precise,”

“You met the Queen?” Cassian gawked at her like she suddenly started juggling fire balls.

“Elain is a Lady,” Azriel said with a sigh, looking somehow depressed about it. 

Elain held his hand in hers and gently rubbed her thumb over his pulse. When Azriel looked at her, she was smiling at him and that smile managed to calm him down somehow. Like Elain didn’t care about the difference in their upbringing, and she liked him for…him.

So Azriel smiled back at her and then whispered, “you aren’t even ready yet.”

“I’ve been baking.”

Azriel smiled excitedly and said, “I can’t wait to eat it! You know, matchy….Ours, is a match baked in heaven.”

“You are so ridiculous, I love it!” Elain stared at him, but then couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I am not ridiculous! I am right,” he argued.

“Where is the little beastie with the bows?” Cassian looked around, seeking out Piglet.

Azriel frowned and also twisted his head this way and that way.

“Where is little matey?”

Elain pursed her lips and then pointed to the sofa in the family room. 

“There he is. Being dramatic.”

And after a pause, added, “and RUDE! We have guests, and you are being absolutely rude!”

Azriel rushed to the pug.

Piglet was still dressed in his onesie, laying on the sofa arm, unmoving. 

Depressed Piglet

“Pinky, my lovie, what’s wrong?” Azriel cooed, stroking the pug’s back. 

Piglet didn’t move and just lay there listlessly, his little short legs draped over the sofa arm. Azriel nosed into his back and whispered, “what’s wrong? Daddy is home. I’ll take care of my boy.” He then picked Piglet up and cradled him to his chest. 

“He is depressed,” Elain threw, while Rhysand watched Azriel fuss over the dog with amusement. 

“Depressed?!?!” Azriel gasped. “Why? What made him depressed?”

Elain crossed her arms on her chest, and said, her voice laced with disappointment.

“We went to the vet today: to get Piglet’s longevity shots. It was a substitute vet–not his usual one–so he gave him a check up too.”

“Is he okay?” Azriel exclaimed in fright. “Is he sick?!”

Rhysand snorted a laugh at Azriel’s reaction. Azriel didn’t even look at him, while flipping him the bird.

“Whoa, is the doggo okay?” Cassian also asked, worried. 

“He is fine. But the vet said that he is,” she took a piece of paper off the counter, and read out loud, “mildly anxious, highly spirited, overweight, overall well-adjusted, but with an extreme case of separation anxiety.”

As she repeated the diagnosis, Piglet released a tragic howl, before burrowing into Azriel’s neck.

“And he’s been like this ever since we came back.”

Azriel rocked Piglet back and forth in his embrace, kissing the top of his head. 

“Don’t listen to the stupid vet. You aren’t overweight. You are just plump. And that’s okay. You are built for feed, not speed.”

Rhys laughed again, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the scene. 

“And it’s okay to have separation anxiety. I am anxious every time I am separated from Ellie. And from you.”

“What exactly are longevity shots?” Rhys asked, cocking his head.

“They are illegal!” Elain announced proudly.

“Illegal?”

“Yes. They are stem cell shots. Not legal here. But I am not having my dog die–ever. So he gets his longevity shots every six months.”

“Must be a pricey enterprise?”

“It is. Three thousand a pop. And I don’t care. It’s worth it.”

“Worth it,” Azriel agreed, and then gently pulled Piglet away from his neck and looked into his big, sad eyes.

“Baby boy, do you want to go to a party?” he asked. “Do you want to be the star? You'll wear the nicest outfit and you’ll have so much fun there. Everyone will be loving on you. What do you say?”

Piglet sniffled, clearly needing more encouragement.

“There will be snacks,” Cassian added.

“Yes. And cake. And maybe chicken nuggies! They are your faves!”

“He likes chicken nuggets?” Rhys asked, chuckling.

“They are chicken meatballs, but we call them ‘chicken nuggies’,” Azriel explained. 

And then, he started signing. And dancing. With Piglet dangling in his hands, Azriel sang to the tune of Jose Feliciano’s ‘Feliz Navidad’:

Please feed the dog

Please feed the dog

Please feed the dog

I am so hungry

I don’t wanna starve!

I want a bucket of chicken nuggies!

I want a bucket of chicken nuggies!

I want a bucket of chicken nuggies!

And a slice of meatloaf

Everyone stared at him, slack-jawed. 

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Rhys whispered in horrified awe. “Do we need an intervention?”

“Don’t get in between a man and his dog,” Cassian warned.

The dog meanwhile, bobbed his head to the song, finally coming to, and returning to his normal self. 

“Did he get snacks today?” Azriel asked Elain. “He looks a little thin.”

“Yeah, he lost 5 kilos because he didn’t have snacks today,” she threw tartly, still displeased with Piglet’s attitude and behaviour.

“Okay, can we at least do the Advent Calendar?” Azriel pleaded, while Piglet slipped from his hands and then trotted happily to the huntboard and got on his hind leg, waiting for his daily treat.

“Oh, really? Now he is ready?” Elain asked dryly, staring Piglet down, who turned away from her and towards a much safer Azriel. And he even sweetened the deal with a smile, grinning at his dad, and showing a full row of his tiny little crooked teeth. 

“He is ready!” Azriel announced excitedly, and then there was a whole argument between him and Cassian over who is going to break the slat and take out the treat. Cassian won, because he declared that he ‘never gets to do it, but Azriel gets to do it all the time!’ With that, he broke the seal, took out a small chewable treat shaped like a bone and broke it in half, before Azriel could stop him.

“Oh no!”

“What?” Cassian asked, alarmed, while Piglet crunched on half the snack.

“You don’t understand…it’s dog maths,”

“What?”

With a deep sigh, Azriel explained, “If you break a treat into two, that actually means zero treats. Or, for example, when dinner is at 7 pm, but you serve dinner at 7:02 pm, that means that you are two hours late. Though if you serve dinner at 6 pm, you are also two hours late.

“Anything that is human food is also dog food, but dog food is only dog food. In addition, human food is not counted towards food or snacks, therefore, it could be consumed in unlimited amounts.”

Rhys was shaking with laughter, while Cassian was clearly doing some complex calculations in his head, as he listened to Azriel. He fed Piglet the second part of the treat, and then confirmed, “So this means he did not receive a treat at all?”

“Exactly. A broken treat does not count as a treat.”

“I am adopting dog maths for all my maths,” Rhys decided right then and there. 

Elain was watching the brouhaha with a shake of her head, before she asked, “May I count on you three, gentlemen, to undress him, put this tie on him, and then put his coat on.”

She handed Azriel a brown chequered tie and a Burberry jacket for the dog, but he in turn handed it to Cassian and said, “I am going to go help my girl out.”

It’s not that Elain needed help exactly, but she didn’t mind it either. Cassian looked at the dog attire uncertainly, gnawing on his lip, and then told Rhys ‘you are helping’.

“He likes to escape,” Azriel offered helpfully, as he ran after Elain up the stairs. 

The moment the other two men were out of sight, he lifted her in his arms and pressed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. 

“I’ve missed my girl,” he murmured, dragging his nose over her jawline, up her cheek, kissing her softly and slowly.

“Azriel,” she moaned into his hair, grabbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s fuck off and not go to the party, send Cass, Rhys and pug, and stay in and fuck?” he proposed, hope shining in his eyes.

She laughed softly and said, “I think my sister might be a bit affronted if I didn’t attend her 25th birthday so I could stay home and fuck, as you put it.”

“Who, Fey? Fey wouldn’t care!” he blew his cheeks, “she is our shipper!”

“What?”

“She ships us hard. Wants us to be together!”

“Is this your dark romance lingo?”

“You should join the dark romance revolution,” he suggested. “You can join our Book Club,”

“Wait, you have a book club?”

“Yes, we do. But shit, you can’t! No girls allowed,” he shrugged apologetically.

“You have an all-men Book Club where you read dark romances?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah. We are not sexist or anything. We read romances and smut.”

“You just said that no girls are allowed in your Book Club. That’s the definition of ‘sexist’.”

He frowned, thinking, while he deposited her on the floor in their bedroom, and plopped down on the bed himself. 

“Oh yeah. Oh, well, a little sexist. But not super sexist.”

“Oh, well, phew. As long as you aren’t super sexist!”

Rolling on his side, and propping his head, he gave her a heated, lascivious look and said,

“Come on, strip, baby. Show me what you are wearing!”

“Since when did our relationship include stripping?” she pondered, as she disappeared in the walk-in closet.

“Not yet, but it should include plenty of stripping,” he decided. “I am all stripping-ready and if you’d like me to, I can strip right now.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Elain didn’t seem surprised.

Downstairs, it seemed that the two humans lost control of the situation pretty quickly. There was banging, suspicious crashing, curses and little claws clacking frantically on the floor. Cries of ‘hold him!’ and ‘shit’ and ‘why is he so fast’ peppered the commotion.

Azriel was smiling, listening to the chaos. He did warn them.

“This? Or this?”

When he glanced at Elain, his jaw dropped. Everything was forgotten.

If the house was on fire, he wouldn't have cared. 

Because his naughty Elain came out, holding two hangers in her hands, and wearing nothing but a tiny, lacy, baby blue lingerie set. It hugged her generous form very deliciously and was basically see-through, which made Azriel swallow audibly. He asked for stripping and well, here they were. He could clearly see her full breasts and the pink nipples beneath the gossamer-thin material. And the way her knickers wrapped around the round hips just so…the firm, but ample thighs…

“Nu!” she pressed.

“What?” he asked, looking dazed.

At that point though, Piglet tore through the bedroom. He looked a proper state. Half of his onesie was hanging off his body, and he zoomed wildly around the bedroom, diving under the bed, before emerging and repeating his frantic circle.

From downstairs, they heard Rhys’s disgruntled holler, “What is this dog on?! What’s in the longevity shots? Cocaine?! I bet it’s coke!”

Elain stood there, almost naked, laughing, while Azriel devoured her with his eyes.

Piglet stopped his zooming and gave the situation an assessing gaze, looking whether any serial killers needed sorting out. Having not found any, he gave everyone a victorious bark and then bounded out the bedroom and down the stairs. 

“Hold him on the right!” Cassian shouted.

“He is too fast!” Rhys screamed back, “how’s he so fast when he only has three legs!”

“Bribe him with a strawberry or a piece of cheese!” Azriel yelled in turn, not taking his eyes off Elain.

She grumbled, “how many men over 6”5 does it take to dress a three-legged pug?”

Azriel sat up on the bed and whispered, “Come here, baby.”

“Why do I feel like if I do, then we might not be leaving here at all?”

“You might be correct, but maybe, just maybe, if I touch some of these fleshy soft bits,”

“WHAT? Fleshy soft bits??” she gasped incredulously, while Azriel’s very long arm wrapped around her hips and he pushed her closer. 

“Such,” he kissed her, in fact, soft belly, “fine,” another kiss right below her breast, “fleshy,” and his lips landed on the side of her waist, where it curved sensually and where he licked a path down to her hip, “soft,” and he lightly bit the spot just above the lacy band of her underwear, “bits,” and he inhaled so hard with his face against the mound of her sex that a satisfied, raw groan of pleasure reverberated deep within his chest. 

Elain almost fainted, when suddenly, he wrapped his mouth over the lips of her pussy, biting them gently through the material of the underwear. 

“My god,” she gasped, not knowing whether to push him away, or to pull his face closer and into her slit.

He dragged his tongue against the seam of her folds, and muttered hoarsely, his voice rough and harsher than usual, “do you know how much I’ve dreamt about eating your pussy? How much I want to watch you coming on my tongue?”

“My god, Azriel,” Elain managed to growl out, while he filled his huge palms with the flesh of her round ass cheeks. His thumbs stroked her skin, while he kissed her thighs, around her belly button, before gladly sinking his teeth into her breast and biting her nipple.

“I will be your god, my beautiful Elain,” he promised. “Once I make you come, you’ll understand the definition of ‘my god’.”

“So confident.”

“Oh I am.”

He pulled back a bit, and told her, “Gotta confess. A nice bare pink pussy is my kryptonite.”

“I suppose I fit the bill then?”

“You do. You always do.”

She picked up the two dresses that she had dropped on the floor and showed them to him again.

One was a wintry, knit dress, which no doubt, would look mighty fine wrapped over her form. The other, was a much more formal dress, in some ways sculptural, made of some type of heavy satin. It was cream, tailored and spectacular. 

“This is more practical,” Elain said, lifting the knit dress. “I can wear it with tall boots and I think it would look nice,”

“No,” he said flatly.

“No?”

“You aren’t going to look ‘nice’. You’ll look stunning. ‘Nice’ is not for Elain Archeron. It’s not for my girl.”

She bit her lip adorably, considering his words, while he was watching her like a hungry hound.

“I do have these shoes that I’ve been dying to wear, but they are open and it’s December.”

“Bring the shoes,” he ordered simply. “You’ll put them on there.”

“Okay,” she agreed, though it didn’t seem like she needed a lot of encouragement. 

…Downstairs, Cassian had Piglet in some kind of MMA headlock, while Rhysand was attempting to put the jacket on the pug. 

Small wins: they succeeded in taking the onesie off. And Piglet had a tie around his neck, even if it was all skewed. 

The jacket was proving to be a challenge.

“You two seriously cannot be trusted with a dog,” Azriel lamented, watching the pathetic display. 

“Fuck, Elain,” Cassian gasped. “You look…wow. You look really beautiful.”

Azriel immediately wrapped a possessive, proprietary arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. 

“Thank you, Cassian,” Elain smiled and then snapped her fingers.

With frightening ease, Piglet broke out of Cassian’s hold, showing that he was just indulging them and that they never stood a chance. He also grabbed the jacket out of Rhys’s hands and trotted to Elain, handing it to her. 

“Are you going to be a good boy tonight?” she asked, as she dressed him in about 47 seconds. “It’s Aunt Fey’s birthday and you have to be nice to her. She’ll want to give you hugs,” at that Piglet sighed, “and you have to give her hugs.”

Piglet led the charge, and when he saw Dev and Dev asked to ‘shake’, he shook with him. Azriel was carrying the birthday cake, internally freaking out. That was a heavy responsibility.  Rhysand was charged with carrying the cinnamon buns and the pastries. Somehow, Cassian ended up without a task, however, once they piled into the car, he was responsible for holding Piglet in his lap. Elain carried and touched nothing other than her purse. 

“Camden then?” Dev confirmed with Elain.

“Yes,” Elain nodded, sandwiched between Azriel and Rhysand, and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the amount of testosterone in the car. The most amorous sensations came from Azriel’s side, whose scent she wanted to drown in. The heat of body, the muscular arm that pressed into hers, the very sight of his gorgeous throat which she wanted to kiss and lick and bite had her squirming in her seat, pressing her thighs together. Azriel gave her a side glance and smirked. 

“You feeling okay, baby?” he asked lightly.

“Oh, just splendid!” she assured him tartly.

“You sure? You seem a bit squirmy there,”

“Oh, quite positive. Just setting in,” she offered him a fake smile.

“Anything I can do to help you? Settle in, that is?”

“Doing okay on my own,”

“It would seem so. Perhaps you’ve been doing it on your own for a bit too long…and might require a helping hand after all?”

Cassian squinted at them, stroking Piglet’s head, looking absolutely and hysterically ridiculous holding a dressed up pug. Elain kept averting her eyes from the two of them, because she knew that she was about to burst into laughter.

“Is this some kind of sex talk?” Cassian asked suspiciously.

Rhys smiled a brief smile, and it occurred to Elain that nothing much escaped this man. 

“Ellie doesn’t do sex talks,” Azriel told him.

“Hmmm…sounds like sex talk,” Cassian insisted. “Will there be girls at this party?”

“Quite a few,” Elain nodded. 

“Okay, maybe I’ll hook up with someone.”

“You are not going there to hook up!” Rhys warned him.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not an American frat party where you are going to be shagging someone in an empty bedroom. We are going to a birthday party. And we weren’t even invited!”

“I was invited,” Azriel argued.

“Technically, you weren’t,” Rhys argued. “You are going as Elain’s date.”

“Oh.”

“Then what am I?” Cassian wondered.

“Piglet’s date,” Elain joked. “Listen, it’s fine. You were all technically invited. Feyre wanted to meet everyone. She is quite taken with Azriel already. I am sure you’ll impress her as well. Now, impressing my older sister Nesta might be a little more difficult.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassian instantly leaned forward, as if the challenge of impressing Nesta intrigued him.

“Nesta is…complicated,” was all Elain said. 

“Is she as beautiful as you?” Cassian queried.

Elain got all adorably pink and flustered and Azriel gave his brother an unimpressed look.

“Nesta is very attractive,” Azriel growled, stroking the side of Elain’s neck with his thumb. “But no one is as beautiful as Elain.”

Elain lit up like a Christmas tree at his words, blushing and smiling and trying to hide, but he only kissed her temple and held her closer.

-

When Rhysand heard ‘Camden’ he did not expect this. He wasn’t exactly a Camden type of a person, so he wondered if he’d stick out like a sore thumb in the Camden crowd. He was an Old Etonian. But when they arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and reminded himself that the Archerons weren’t exactly poor. They stopped next to a sprawling refurbished industrial building. It was old London brick–dark and dirtied with age, which gave it character. There were a couple of huge windows, now brightly lit up, and behind the house was a canal and a little dock. This was nice. 

Cassian got out first, and Piglet confidently trotted to the door and barked, announcing his arrival. Azriel was last, holding on that cake like his life depended on it. Rhysand smiled. Azriel was such a good boyfriend. Who would’ve thought? But he turned out to be the exemplary boyfriend, who was utterly obsessed with Elain. To an unhealthy degree, in Rhys’s opinion. Azriel already marked his body permanently with all things Elain. If this didn’t go well and ended in a way that Azriel wasn’t expecting, well…it would get messy. Hearts would be broken. Dreams would be shattered. Tattoos would have to be removed or covered up…

The door opened and a tall, very slim woman stood in front of them. That she was Elain’s sister was obvious. But her face was sharper, the eyes a steely grey-blue, long golden brown hair tied into a no-nonsense chignon at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple pearl-grey dress, well-tailored, but without frills, and a huge diamond and emerald brooch, a la the late Queen. 

For a moment, she just stood there, assessing them all with an unflinching gaze.

“Are you Nesta?” Cassian suddenly stepped forward, his attention wholly on the willowy, busty beauty in front of him.

“You are late,” she said instead, ignoring him.

“We aren’t!” Elain argued. “The party doesn’t start until six and we have plenty of time to prepare.”

Cassian wasn’t deterred and announced, “I am Cassian!”

“Congratulations,” Nesta said. Then, she asked Elain, “What is this? A reverse harem?” 

Before the confused Elain could answer, Cassian asked excitedly, 

“Oh, a fellow reverse harem lover?! Very nice. What’s your favourite book?”

Nesta gave him a puzzled, but intrigued look, while he continued, undeterred, 

“Mine is “The Kings’ Wife’! What’s yours?”

“‘Forget-Me-Not Bombshell’,” she answered flatly, surprising everyone. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Behind Nesta, they heard an excited voice, and an exclamation, “Elain, this cake!!! Oh my goddess! It’s crazy beautiful!! Piggy! Come…Come! Give me hugs! Come to me, my good boy.”

Piglet muscled his way between the sea of legs, and hopped towards the birthday girl, being a good boy, just like he promised. 

She sat on the floor and accepted him in her arms, taking off his coat. 

“Welcome everyone!” she said loudly. 

“Thank you for having us,” Rhys said ahead of everyone. He wasn’t sure why.

And then, her eyes landed on him. 

Feyre. What a name.

A gently lovely girl, with blue eyes and brown hair, and a scattering of visible freckles all over her nose and cheeks. Not a beauty like Elain. Not as striking as Nesta. And yet…

“I’ve heard your voice,” she suddenly said, her luminous eyes firmly planted on Rhys’s face.

“Pardon?” he stuttered.

“It was like you called me,” she continued, “and I heard you. Your voice. Across the hills, calling me. I think it was in a dream,” she laughed nervously. “But your voice was very distinctive.”

“Well, then I am glad that I am the man of your dreams. Literally.”

At that, Feyre laughed, but it was nervous, as if there was a grain of truth in his voice.

Rhys continued,

“Happy birthday, Feyre darling.”

She got up from the floor, still holding the pug. Piglet looked between the two of them with a smug look on his squished face. Like he knew something they didn’t.

“Are you Rhysand?” she asked shyly.

“I am Rhysand,” he confirmed. “You’ve heard of me?”

“I have. Apparently, I’ve also heard you. Welcome.”

Like her sisters, Feyre also wore a plain dress, of deep dark blue velvet. It was simple, but form-fitting, exposing her elegant neck. She didn’t wear any jewellery and at that, Rhys smirked and reached into his jacket pocket. He stepped closer to the birthday girl, ignoring all the curious stares from his brothers and her sisters, and then took out a flat black box and handed it to her.

“For you.”

Feyre blushed prettily and looked up at him from under her long lashes. 

“A gift? For me?” she repeated, taking the box from him.

“A pretty gift for a pretty girl,” he smiled, smoothly opening the lid and suddenly taking out a…crown. A diadem. 

Nesta stared at the gift, and so did Cassian, and even Azriel, with complete astonishment.

It was a delicate band of white gold, shaped like a branch, studded in places with tiny diamonds and lapis lazuli. 

“A crown for the lady.”

Rhys smiled at Feyre, whose eyes were as big as saucers and then gently placed the diadem upon her head, effectively crowning her.

“Well, now it’s perfect.”

“I…my…I can’t…” Feyre began to babble frantically, but Rhys only offered an indulgent smile and said, “of course you can. Now, did you know that Piglet loves me and allowed me to dress him?” he lied.

“Oh no way! Really?!” she exclaimed, totally falling for his bullshit. “He could be so standoffish. And if he wants to zoom…well, then you can’t even catch him!”

“No?! You don’t say?” Rhys pretended to be shocked, while offering her his arm.

She took it easily, still clutching Piglet to her, her eyes never leaving Rhys’s face.

“May I tell you something?” she requested.

“Well, of course! What is it?”

“I think that you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she gushed. “And I thought that Azriel was handsome,”

“Well, he is another pretty face for sure. But not as pretty as mine,” Rhys winked at her, and they disappeared inside the huge loft, joking and laughing.

“Did he just give her a tiara?” Nesta questioned in disbelief.

“Yeah…who needs soup when you can just get a tiara,” Elain agreed. 

Turning abruptly to Cassian, Nesta said, “Help me please.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned. 

“I’ll let Elain take her coat off, but please bring the cake into the kitchen,” Nesta commanded, picking up the boxes with buns and pastries, while Cassian lifted the cake.

“Be careful with your bear paws,” she warned him sternly.

“Well, don’t stress me out!” he threw back, and they also disappeared inside the cavernous house, sniping and bickering playfully.

“Well, I don’t know what just happened there,” Azriel twirled his finger in the direction of his brothers, “but something did.”

-

Feyre’s place was wonderful, though very different from Elain’s. The floors were dark, old wide planks, the walls–exposed brick, shiplap, stucco, there were beams above, and soaring ceilings, impressive windows and all sorts of interesting industrial touches. 

“I like our house better,” Azriel decided easily, after he looked around.

Elain smiled at his bluntness, finally taking off her coat. She sat on the arm of the sofa, and unzipped her boots. They were in a small sitting room, where Feyre usually watched TV. Just behind the wall, they heard laughter, clinking of glasses, and the arrival of more guests. Excited compliments of ‘Feyre, look at your tiara!’ ‘Fey are you wearing a crown?!’ ‘Feyre, you are a proper high noble lady’, ‘Should we call you Lady Feyre?’ and so on. They also heard Piglet squealing and galloping around, yelling wawabawa akwakwaka which was his usual call for snacks. Since he was ‘depressed’ earlier today, his snack consumption was quite low compared to his daily snack load.

It was only when Elain turned her head that she gasped and recoiled.

Because Azriel…

He was…

Well…

He was on one knee in front of her. 

“Hi,” he smiled at her, seeing her shocked face.

“What…what are you…ohmygod…what are you doing?!” 

She was literally hyperventilating.

Clutching the front of her dress, she was gasping like a fish, her face flushed.

“Elain, will you,” he began asking solemnly,

“YES!” she cried out, eyes wild. “Yes,”

“Give me your pretty foot,” he continued nonchalantly, smirking to himself.

“Wait, what?” 

“Your foot, pretty girl,” he extended his hand out. 

“You don’t want to…” her voice faded into a whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“I am sure,” she hissed.

“So, you don’t want me to ask you to marry you?” he confirmed, while he took her foot and then pulled out her fancy high-heeled open toe pumps from the bag, and slid one on. 

“No!” she shouted.

“No need to yell, beautiful,” he told her, working on the complex tie and clasp of the shoe. 

On his knees

“I am not yelling,” she pouted.

“So you didn’t get excited when you saw me on one knee?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think that maybe, just maybe I’ll pull a ring out?”

“No!” 

“Hmmm. You seem a bit upset, sweetheart.”

“I am not upset,” she folded her arms on her chest, as she bit her lip aggressively, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to fall. 

“So you don’t want to marry me?” he pressed.

“No!” she repeated yet again.

“Hmmm,” he gave another annoying hum, and then took her left hand and squeezed her ring finger, before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “And you don’t want a big diamond ring on this pretty little finger of yours?”

“No!”

“Okay, I am a little sad, as I was planning to stop by Cartier, but if you aren’t interested,”

“You are not going to do it!” she argued petulantly.

He shrugged, “who knows…But seeing as you aren’t interested anyway,”

Quickly she amended, “I am not not interested…”

“Oh no? Because I did think that you looked a bit devastated when you didn’t find me proposing.”

“I am not devastated. I was just surprised,” Elain insisted stubbornly.

He tied her second shoe and then bent to kiss her ankle.

“And if I did, propose that is, what would my Cinderella say to her Prince?”

He wrapped his big, warm hands over her bare legs, rubbing the backs of her knees slowly, as he waited for her answer.

“I don’t know! Can I say ‘yes’ after knowing you for 2 months?”

“You can say ‘yes’ after knowing me for two hours,”

“You called me a cow, and a prissy bird or something like that in the first two hours of our meeting,” she glowered at him.

“You implied that I couldn’t get it up,” he reminded her quickly.

“Ergh, I didn’t mean it,”

“Because I can certainly demonstrate–me getting it up pretty well,” he offered. 

“So you keep saying.”

“And you keep denying me the opportunity,” he scolded, before kissing her hand again. “Look at me,” he ordered, and then lifted her chin, so their eyes met. “The truth is, at the end of the day, you are the one person I want to come home to. You are the only person who I want to tell about my day. You are the one who I want to share my happiness with, my sandnes, my frustrations. So, I’ll ask you, Elain Archeron. And you better say yes. Because there is no getting rid of me.”

Elain wiped her tears with her first. She didn’t even know why she was crying. Probably because she loved him. And the thought of him not asking her to be with him forever did in fact, devastate her. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked gently.

“I dunno,” she admitted, wiping her tears again.

“You don’t have to cry. I am yours. I am.”

“You don’t have anyone else?”

“Nah…” then he stopped and looked at her guiltily, adding,  “Well, I do…” he paused mysteriously and Elain gasped in silent horror.

“You do?!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah…”

“Who is she?”

“Oh, it’s a he,” he said immediately, grinning at her. “He is furry, likes snacks a lot, has three legs, snores and zooms,”

Through her tears, Elain smiled and then pushed him. 

“Are you just going to traumatise me for the rest of the night?” she demanded, finally getting up.

“Do you like me on my knees in front of you, Miss Archeron?”

“That’s the least you can do for putting me through all this nonsense,” she looked down at her legs, her sexy shoes, and sighed. 

“You are gorgeous. A girl of my dreams,”

“Apparently, that’s Rhys–he is in Feyre’s dreams,” Elain said dryly.

“Yeah, he is the girl of her dreams,” Azriel nodded and then rose up, while Elain laughed.

-

Cassian sat in an armchair, observing the revelry in front of him. He swirled his whiskey lazily around the tumbler, feeling mellow. He wasn’t exactly drunk, but he was under the influence for sure. It was a good feeling. The party-loving pug had arrived about fifteen minutes ago, definitely also under the influence of something, because he yawned widely and then raised his front paws, asking Cassian to pick him up. It looked like Piglet had decided that Cassian could join his secret and exclusive pug-pack and Cassian was only too happy to oblige. Now, Piglet was snoring blissfully, his head resting on Cassian’s thigh. Taking his pug-protector duties very seriously, Cassian scowled at anyone who attempted to disturb the sleeping pup, and considering his size and general appearance, no one dared to contradict him. 

“Hey Nes,” he called out. “Come sit with me.”

Nesta, who was walking by, gave him her typical icy look and snapped, “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Nes?” he smiled playfully. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

He patted the seat next to him. It would be a snuggly fit for the two of them, since he took up so much space.

“What do you want?” she demanded, but he noticed that she didn’t exactly walk away.

“Come, sit with me. I’ll tell you a story.”

“I don’t want stories,”

“Sure you do, my prickly rose.”

“You are overly familiar, Mr. Night,” Nesta sipped her white wine, but Cassian reached out and held out his massive hand to her. And Nesta…Nesta…took it. He pulled her to him gently and she stepped closer, before he wrapped his arm around her waist and to her utter dismay, placed her next to him. Piglet moved onto his side, but didn’t wake up.

“The little beastie is tired,” Cassian murmured, his expression soft.

“What do you want, Mr. Night?” she tried again. 

“You remind me of Elain,” he noted simply. “She is mad formal as well.”

“I don’t know you at all!”

“You can find out more. Whatever you want.”

“What do you do?” Nesta asked, squirming next to his massive, muscular body. God he was handsome. Azriel was handsome, hands down maybe the most handsome one out of the three–and that was saying something. Rhysand–not her type, but undeniably beautiful. But this one–objectively, he was probably the least classically handsome, yet to Nesta, he was simply stunning. Everything she didn’t know she liked he possessed. This size of his, the muscles, the strong features, the jet black silky hair tied into a haphazard bun. 

“I am a sports agent,” he answered. “What about you?”

“A barrister.”

“I should’ve guessed. Here is what I think, Miss Archeron,”

“What?”

“You are a very successful, very beautiful, very lonely and very misunderstood woman,”

Nesta jolted in her place, her pale face colouring angrily, her brows knitting together at the audacity of his words. His expression remained calm, almost placid, though, unlike Azriel, this wasn’t a placid man. Undeterred he continued, “And I am guessing that you are knocking on 30 pretty soon, and you aren’t very happy with where you are in life. It should’ve been different, right?”

She attempted to get up, but he held her down, and tsked,

“Before you storm away, let me tell you something,”

“Leave me the hell alone!” she snarled. “You uncouth, rude bastard,”

He chuckled.

“Uncouth, huh? Cute. The Archeron girls are adorable. Now, look at them,” he jerked his head towards the crowd. Reluctantly, Nesta followed his gaze, and watched Elain and Azriel seated next to each other on top of the radiator cover, eating what looked like ice cream. Well, he was holding the bowl, but he was feeding Elain, who was licking the spoon, before he dunked it back into the ice cream, and took a swipe himself. She rested her head on his shoulder, both of her hands wrapped securely around his upper arm, holding onto him like she couldn’t let go. 

It struck Nesta then–how relaxed Elain looked. Elain was always a little bit tense, unless she was with Piglet. She was especially tense around Eris, always worrying about his opinion, always desperate to please him, always seeking his approval, or a rare compliment. Elain worried about her figure, having been told by their mother that she was chubby and that she’d never get married, because men wanted a slender wife. Elain was insecure, old-fashioned, but bold and entrepreneurial, which made for a confusing combination. But never did Nesta observe Elain looking so…content. Happy. At ease. She held on to that big, tattooed, striking man and only had her eyes for him. It didn’t look like the rest of the world existed for her, because he was the centre of it. 

“She is in love,” Nesta breathed, the realisation slamming into her like a hammer.

Azriel was in love, for a long time now, and of that she was sure. But Elain? Elain had fallen too.

Turning abruptly to Cassian, she found him with his hands clasped behind his head, looking mighty satisfied, with a proud smirk on his lips.

“What are you so happy about?” she demanded.

He tsked and said, “I set them up.”

“What are you on about?”

“Without me, they wouldn’t have met! I was the one who contacted her. I was the one who dragged him to meet with her. I was the matchmaker. And look how well I matched them. Now, obviously, this extends to Feyre and Rhys now. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have met either,”

“Hold your horses with them! They just met tonight,”

“And yet he crowned her like she was his lady,” Cassian reminded her.

“Which was weird,”

“Rhys likes big gestures,”

“Alright, fine, what do you want? To quit your job as a sports agent and work with Elain as a Junior Matchmaker?”

At that, Cassian laughed, and woke up Piglet. The dog stretched, yawned and then rolled over and quickly located his ma and dad in the crowd. With a happy yip, he jumped off the chair and ran over to them. 

Nesta turned away from Cassian, watching Azriel scoop some ice cream into a soup bowl and let Piglet slurp it all with messy gusto. Nesta knew how much Piglet loved a pup cup, and this was a pup cup on steroids. Elain and Azriel cooed and laughed over their dog, holding hands, watching him, commenting something to each other, and Nesta was struck by another revelation–they were a family. Somewhere along the road, somehow, the three of them formed a family of their own. And Elain was no longer just an Archeron. For almost thirty years, Nesta had her two sisters, and the three Archeron sisters were an unshakable, even somewhat notorious unit. They were regal and beautiful and available and wealthy. They were the Three Sisters. And now…She glanced at Elain again, who was back on the radiator cover, seated with her legs crossed and placed on Azriel’s lap, who held them tightly. Whatever he was saying, was making Elain laugh loudly, her head thrown back. The grouping of empty glasses near her probably played a role as well. But it stung Nesta somewhere deep in her chest. Her beloved sister was no longer hers. Her beloved sister was now beloved by someone else. Elain’s light and softness were well and truly melding with the untamed intensity of Azriel Night. 

“The only one I want to matchmake for, is you,” Cassian said firmly. His tone was steady, but he said it in such a manner that Nesta turned to him, looking into his lovely luminous hazel eyes. 

“And who are you setting me up with exactly?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Me.”

“You?”

“Me. You and I are going on a date.”

“Excuse me?” she almost choked on her wine.

“Why are you surprised, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetheart. What do you say? Walk on the wild side? Me and you?” he winked at her.

“You are mad,” he concluded simply.

“Perhaps. Doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

She stood up from the chair, and he didn’t stop her this time. He just looked at her expectantly.

“Fine,” she said tersely.

Cassian smiled.

“I knew you were a smart girl.”

“I am already regretting it,” she warned.

“You won’t have any regrets. Once I am done with you, you’ll be asking for more and more dates.”

“Doubtful.”

“I’ll prove it.”

She threw him a withering glance, and added,

“The only reason I am saying yes to you is because,”

“My blinding handsomeness? All my bulging muscles? My mighty height? Wicked sense of humour? Winning personality?” he offered.

Nesta rolled her eyes and moaned, “Help me Lord. No, ridiculous man.”

“What then? What secret weapon do I possess that totally made you want to go out with me?”

“Piglet trusts you,” she shrugged, like it didn’t mean much. 

“Oh…”

“And he doesn’t trust many people. I’ve been watching him. He trusts no one like he trusts Azriel. He even trusts Azriel with Elain! Which is unheard of. He is actually capable of leaving her with Azriel and not hovering like he is surgically attached to her. And when I saw today that he actually sought you out and slept next to,”

“That was the turning point?” Cassian chuckled. “The beastie trusting me?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s good to know. He is my wingman. Now, where the fuck is cake?! Are we cutting or what?”

“It’s a birthday, not a wedding,” Nesta reminded him. Cassian took her by the hand, soliciting a small girlish gasp of surprise from her. 

“Yeah…not yet.”

-

Elain was standing, eating birthday cake, chatting with her old classmate Lucien, who was also one of Feyre’s closest friends. Lucien was also distantly related to Eris, which only confirmed yet again how incestuous their circle actually was. Azriel teased her about it, but he was actually correct in his observation. 

Lucien’s been throwing confused glances in Azriel’s direction most of the night, as if trying to figure out who he was to Elain, and what the nature of their relationship was.

But he was too polite to ask, so instead, he joked, “So, when am I going to be set up with someone sexy, smart and successful? What am I, a wet herring?”

Elain laughed.

“All herrings are wet by default,” she told him, “I thought you weren’t interested in matchmaking?”

“I wasn’t. But seeing how well you are doing, I am eager to have you change my mind.”

“Are you ready then?” Elain asked seriously.

A year ago, Lucien was in a very serious car accident, where he lost his eyes in the aftermath. His longtime girlfriend left him shortly afterwards. He’s been devastated ever since, and wouldn’t venture out in any social situations, let alone dates. This was the first time that he decided to attend anything that had more than three guests, and only because he and Feyre went way back.

“I might be. I want to have someone looking at me the way you are looking at him,” and he nodded towards Azriel who was talking in a group of men.

Elain squirmed a bit and blushed at his insinuation.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Eris. Not my business,” he told her quickly.

“Thank you. But Eris hasn’t been in touch for weeks now. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“His loss. Maybe mine as well,” and he looked at her with a longing that made her almost uncomfortable. “But I don’t think it was ever meant to be–you and I.”

“I don’t think so,” she agreed. “We look good on paper. But maybe we don’t work so well as anything but friends.”

“The friendship is good,” Lucien decided, sipping some of his champagne. “Let’s do that. Let’s be friends.”

“And there might be someone of interest who could be a good potential,” Elain murmured thoughtfully, clearly thinking about something.

“Oh yeah?”

“But you’d have to be a client. Formally.”

“At least tell me her name!” he laughed. “What if she has a horrible name!”

“Nuala. How’s that? Can you live with that?”

“Oh. Nuala. I like it!”

“So, if you are serious, then ring me up after New Year’s and we’ll create your profile and will get to work.”

“And you think that this wouldn’t be an impediment?” he asked awkwardly, pointing to his face. 

Elain looked at him and said seriously,

“For some, yes. For others, no. If they can’t see beyond the surface and not understand what you bring then it’s probably not a good match. Or a good person.”

Suddenly a familiar, very muscular, very big hand smacked Elain on the ass. 

She whipped and hissed at the grinning Azriel. Piglet was at his feet, looking up, also grinning smugly.

Before she could unleash, Azriel quickly explained, “It’s my burden, beautiful. Every man’s burden–the need to smack his lady’s juicy rump whenever we are near it.”

“Oh, is that so!!” she exclaimed, while Lucien hid his smile in his champagne flute.

“Listen,” Azriel said somberly, like he was being serious. “It’s not easy. It’s not easy to have these…urges. You think I want to walk around, see your gorgeous arse, and be overcome by an intolerable need to slap it? And then I have to trudge and actually, you know, do it! Slap your yummy buns.”

“Yummy buns?!?!?” 

“Oh goodness…” Lucien laughed. “I think I shall leave you two alone to discuss!”

“Not until you tell her that it’s an uncontrollable urge that all men suffer from?” Azriel insisted, wrapping his arm around Elain’s waist.

“Most of us do,” Lucien confirmed. “Not everyone acts on it though,”

“See, not everyone acts on it!” Elain elbowed Azriel and he bowed dramatically.

“I think it depends on the arse. Yours is too tempting not to smack.”

Once Lucien moved on to another group of guests, Azriel grabbed Elain by the hand and dragged her after him, with Piglet hot on their heels.

“You are not having messy sex with me in the closet!” she warned.

He didn’t answer, but threw her her coat and her boots, while lunging at Piglet and taking him by surprise before he could escape.

“Are we leaving?” Elain asked, looking around and at her coat in confusion.

“No. But put it on. We are gonna go out for a sec.”

She frowned at his abruptness, but took off her heels and pulled on her socks and then her boots, before tying her coat with a belt. Piglet was wearing his jacket too, though he looked unamused and put off by the fact that he wasn’t chased around. Azriel even pulled on Piglet’s knit hat, while he dressed himself, and then taking Elain’s hand, he had the three of them sneak out quietly. 

The moment they were outside, Elain gasped softly and threw her head back. 

The world had turned white.

Snow.

Thick, fluffy piles of snow had fallen in the past few hours and now covered everything in pristine brilliant whiteness. It swirled in the lemony light of street lights, falling silently all around them.

Piglet looked up, awed. 

This was a new and beautiful thing that he didn’t remember from before. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he caught snowflakes on his nose, licking his lips loudly. Then, with a happy howl, Piglet burst forth and galloped through the snow, rolling in it and screeching joyfully.

Elain bounced on her heels, clapping her hands excitedly, laughing and also trying to catch some snowflakes on her tongue.

“This is better than sex in the closet!” she giggled, spreading her arms wide.

Azriel came behind her and wrapped his arm across her chest.

“Fuck sex,” he whispered into her ear, his lips warm and tender on her cold skin. She shivered at the proximity, because of how good he smelled, and because he enveloped her in his warmth and his bigness. He continued, his cheek scraping against her own.

“I am trying to be your home, you know. Your safe place. Your go-to person for happy and for sad. I am looking to be the reason you smile, and laugh and clap your hands.”

“Az,” she breathed and turned in his arms, looking up at him. Her chocolate-brown eyes were filled with tears. Tears of love. They rolled silently over her cheeks, while Azriel smiled down at her and whispered, 

“We're still gonna have rough sex though.”

Before she could answer, he gently took her jaw in his fingers and tilted her face so it lined up with his. 

“I want to kiss you, Elain,” he said seriously, his breath fanning over her lips.

“Kiss me then,” she permitted. Thick, white clumps of snow fell on Azriel’s black hair, his eyelashes, her hands that clutched at his shoulders. Her tears dried up and she breathed heavily, disoriented and aroused at once.

And then, Azriel kissed her.

His lips were heavenly. 

Soft and light at first, tentative and gentle. 

She tensed against him, the bulk of his body shielding her from the world. And in this world, in her world, there was only him.

His kiss was tender, but firm, luxuriant and dominant at once. He gripped her face in his massive hands, squeezing tightly and holding her in place, but his lips were soft and loving on her mouth. He didn’t hurry, but tasted her thoroughly, enjoyed the scent of her sugar- and wine-tinted mouth. She tasted delicious–like he always thought she would. Butter and honey and pastry and everything nice. Everything that was Elain. She was sweet and homey and familiar, and he felt like he’d kissed her a million times before. 

His tongue parted her lips at last, and he continued his exploration, but it grew hungrier and more urgent as the kiss progressed. A groan of primal, animalistic pleasure escaped his throat, reverberating against her lips and Elain trembled in his arms, growing hot and needy, despite the falling snow and the sharp wind. 

She felt consumed by him, and yet, worshipped at the same time. Just like always. He ignited feelings in her which she’d never experienced before–didn’t even think that she was capable of them. It was raw and hot, and left her feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed. Elain didn’t care about anything at that moment, nothing but Azriel Night, the man she came to love so desperately and completely. 

She arched into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding the back of his head, while he cupped her head and delved deeper into her mouth, licking and sucking on her tongue. His other hand fell away from her face and slipped down her back, before pressing into her hip and pushing her closer to him. 

Elain was well aware of his general size and how he was big everywhere. But feeling him now, thick and hard against her belly, definitely aroused–finally made her feel like a woman. She felt desired. Needed. Wanted. Big, strong, powerful, towering Azriel, and she was his undoing right now. Little Elain, whom no one took seriously. Azriel Night was kissing her. Panting for her. Growling in his chest like a beast because of how she made him feel.

She didn’t know that she needed this kiss until his mouth took possession of hers. To say that she’d never been kissed like this before was an understatement of the century. Azriel licked and sucked on her mouth, nipping on her lips, biting them until they were swollen beneath his. It was then that she released a ragged, pitiful moan of pleasure, because he ground himself between her legs and her breasts rubbed into his solid chest, intensifying her pleasure, making her feel everything. 

“This is the sound I want to hear when I am inside of you,” he murmured into her mouth, kissing her lightly, before clamping his teeth over her jaw. 

Elain felt his heart pounding against her own, and she howled into the night when he bit her neck, sucking in on the delicate skin and marking her as his anew. He sucked and bit her and she staggered back, almost falling out of his arms. He didn’t let go of her, but only growled like a beast, panting into her skin, his lips and teeth working themselves deep into her flesh, while his arms banded around her. Elain gasped from the pain and the sublime pleasure, because hearing him grunt and growl like that might have been the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. 

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he whispered, returning to her lips and kissing her hard and sloppily. She loved this untamed, wild side of him, where he lost his control and revealed the true nature of him and his utter obsession with her. “To me. You belong to me,” he chanted. “Mine.”

“Yours,” she nodded, kissing his lips, kissing his eyes, then his tongue, then his lips again. She was the one to lose control of the situation just as well. If he wanted to fuck her against the wall of her sister’s house, she’d let him. She was achy everywhere, tense and wet between her legs, and when he boldly thrust his hand under her dress, and between her damp thighs, he smiled.

His thumb brushed against her slit, and between kisses he asked, “all for me?”

“All for you,” she nodded, biting his neck hard and leaving teeth marks on his skin.

“I guess you want me to be yours as well?” he joked, and then pulled his hand away from her pussy and licked his thumb. Before she could answer, he kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers and allowing her to taste her own essence. It felt forbidden and scandalous and not something that Elain’s done before, but she liked it. She liked everything. And this kiss…it was unreal. It was unreal in its intensity and its pure eroticism. Who could even kiss like that? Apparently Azriel Night could. She was buzzing. Head to toe she was shivering, her fingers and toes were tingling, her tongue couldn’t get enough of him, of his taste, of how he felt against her own tongue. 

Once they pulled apart to get some air into their lungs, Azriel smiled at her and rubbed his cold nose against hers. 

“Can I kiss you now any time I want to?” he asked.

“Yes!!” she just about yelled. “And I will be kissing you!”

He clasped his hands on the small of her back and kissed her again, “well, that’s brilliant, because I really, really like kissing you.”

He then reached between their bodies and said, “Now, look what I have!”

“What?”

From his pocket, he took out a…carrot. 

“Stole it from Fey,” he said conspiratorially, as if it explained something to the very perplexed Elain.

He grabbed her hand and said, “come on! We are building a snowman!”

“Now?”

“Well, of course now!” he said, looking at her like she was silly. “Next year we might be building one with our baby. This year, we gotta build it with our fur son.”

“What baby?!” she gasped, as he tugged her along, to the clearing where Piglet was burrowing through the snow, rolling in it and howling with excitement.

“You know–son, daughter. Baby.”

“We are having a baby now?”

“Starts with kissing, ends with a baby. That’s how it is.”

“I wasn’t planning on having any babies,” Elain argued feebly, but he only said, “plans change’.

The snow was thick and wet, but there wasn’t heaps of it, since it was London, after all. 

“You do the head, I’ll do the base,” Azriel instructed, assessing the situation and figuring that they’d have enough snow for a small, modest snowman.

Turned out that Elain sucked at making a snowman. She wasn’t wearing gloves and her hands kept getting cold, so Azriel needed to continuously interrupt his own work, so he could blow into and kiss her freezing palms, which only descended into more kissing…mouth kissing. Meanwhile, their stupid pug kept destroying the round snow mounds that they managed to construct by jumping into them and rolling around happily. Elain’s boots were soaked through as well, so by the time Azriel finally managed to roll a decent base, he had to give his girl a piggyback ride, because she was freezing and shaking, while laughing uproariously. She was also filming his work on her phone, while Piglet hopped around them, trying to understand what was happening. Hanging precariously off Azriel’s back, Elain finally managed to roll a decent-enough ball, which they hefted together and carefully placed on top of the other ball. 

“Pink, we need a stick,” Azriel instructed, and Piglet took off before Azriel even finished talking.

“Whoa,” he breathed, as Elain laughed, her arms wrapped around his neck, and her lips constantly making contact with his face. “I guess he really wanted that stick.”

Piglet returned with a stick, tossed it to Azriel, who fashioned one arm out of it, before sending the pug to fetch another. Soon their snowman had two arms, a couple of coins for eyes, and then, with great fanfare, Elain pushed the carrot into the head. 

She barely managed to take a few photos and a short video for Piglet’s Insta account, before he began to circle the snowman curiously, barking and growling at it, and then attacking it viciously.

“Why are you so mean?!” Elain cried. “You are supposed to be gentle with it! Don’t eat it!”

Oh yeah, he was gonna eat it. 

Piglet savagely munched on pieces of the snowman, licking and pulling clumps of snow, smacking his lips. 

“Fucking animal,” Azriel laughed, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Elain. “Are you cold?”

“I am,” she nodded. “But I don’t want to go back inside. This is so much fun!”

“Yeah? What else is fun?” he teased.

She drew her knuckles over his cheek, his now-wet hair and then stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cold mouth. He didn’t have to be asked twice and quickly took over, capturing her sweet mouth with his and eagerly coaxing her plump, buttery-scented lips apart. She whimpered against him, especially when his hands boldly slid to cup the curve of her behind, slipping beneath the coat and making her shiver from the cold. She didn’t care. She sighed warmly and deliciously into his mouth and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her cold, wet fingers tangling in his hair. Caressing his tongue with her own she opened up eagerly to the kiss, and Azriel responded in kind, deepening the caress of his tongue, kissing her filthy and hot, his lips both teasing, and dominating at once. It was dirty and open-mouthed, her kisses loud and maddeningly sticky, rendering his brain to almost naught–all he saw and felt was his gorgeous girl, finally, nearly all his.

Elain moaned against him and Azriel…pulled away abruptly and yelled, “Piglet! The fuck, you weirdo?!”

Elain turned around and gasped in shock, not knowing whether to scream, cry or laugh. So she did all three–laughing so hard, that tears sprung in her eyes.

Because Piglet burrowed into the snowman and successfully pulled out the carrot, which he was now crunching on, though it looked like he was making out with the snowman.

“Dr. Hannibal Piglet Lecter,” Azriel muttered. “Fucking savage pug.” 

Azriel grabbed her phone and filmed the carnage.

From Piglet's Instagram: The carrot is no more

“This should pay for his upkeep for a month,” he said, knowing that the video will garner a million likes and comments. 

Gripping the half-eaten carrot in his mouth Piglet rushed to them and demanded that Azriel pick him up. 

“That’s it? You just give up?” Azriel laughed, as he grabbed the dog and pulled Elain closer to him.

When they returned to the house, the first thing they were greeted by was Nesta and Cassian, glaring at them and arms crossed on their chests.

“We saw you making out!” Cassian declared like he was Mother Superior at a convent.

“Guess the two of you failed as chaperones!” Azriel shrugged indifferently, while he helped Elain out of her coat.

“We didn’t fail!” Nesta bristled. “You two are out of control!”

Little did she know.

-

The next day

Dev arrived around 11:30 am. He hadn’t asked Azriel this yet, but he had wondered where Azriel planned to live once he and Elain got married. Elain’s house made much more sense for a family, not to mention that her office was here as well. But if Azriel was going to move here, Dev needed to consider where he was going to move as well. Russell Square, Holborn, Fitzrovia were really out of his budget. Azriel paid well, but these were some prime locations, and he’d have to rob a bank to afford something nice. Shame that he wasn’t a footballer who grew up with a billionaire duke, or a little heiress who inherited a damn mansion just because. Considering her sister’s place last night, Dev definitely thought that it was better to be born wealthy and healthy, than poor and ill. 

The pug came out first, dressed in a full on morning suit, with a pale blue silk tie no less. He barked his greeting and headed for the car.

“Shake?” Dev asked, extending his hand. Piglet gave him his paw. Then Elain and Azriel came out of the house, holding hands like teenagers. No doubt about it, his old mate Azriel Night, the quiet, scarred boy whom Dev met in a group home when they were around eleven was in love. Azriel, who didn’t say much, leaving the talking to his rambunctious brother Cassian, but who possessed incredible speed, the ability to appear and disappear like a ghost, and a mean left hook that could fall even a grown man in a few seconds–that Azriel was now all grown up. And Dev was proud of him. Azriel deserved something good in his life. Something nice. Something pure and genuine. And this sweet little matchmaker of his, this fancy noble Lady and her posh pug somehow, amazingly, fit the bill.

Azriel opened the car door for Elain, and just as she climbed inside, he slapped her arse.

“I am a gentleman, baby,” he announced. “Always a man, not always gentle.”

“You can’t be like this in front of my father!” she warned.

“Oh, meeting the family?” Dev chuckled. “You ready for that, big man?”

“I’d have to meet him one day,” Azriel shrugged. “Guess today is the day.”

“So, where to? Kensington Palace? Buckingham?” Dev joked. Would he be terribly surprised of Elain said ‘yes’? not really. 

“Mayfair,” she said. “Mount St.”

Of course. Dev wasn’t even surprised. An ultra posh street with Balenciaga, Rubinacci and exclusive jewellery stores, a caviar and champagne restaurant Scott’s, as well as the luxury Connaught hotel where basic rooms went for 1,000 quid a night. 

“We usually go to Annabel’s for all of our birthdays,” Elain explained, and both Azriel and Dev shook their heads. 

“Let me guess. Dad is a member?” Azriel chuckled. Annabel’s was an elegant private club with a dance floor for the famous, the dressed-up and the well-heeled.

Elain pursed her lips, indicating that he was. 

“So why not today?”

“Feyre texted and said that we should go to dad’s,” Elain said. “Said to bring you,”

“Oh boy. I am getting somewhat nervous,” he joked, but Dev, who knew Azriel for a long, long time, noticed a note of worry in his friend’s voice. Azriel was all jokes and nonchalance and elegant swagger, but he was going to meet the father of the girl he loved. And that meant something. It was important.

It wasn’t a long drive and Dev soon parked next to a massive, three story Edwardian mansion. It was red brick with white trim and actual columns. Piglet barked excitedly, recognising the place. 

“You’re going to go see grandpa?” Elain asked, stroking his head. Piglet barked again, raring to go.

“Whenever I have to leave him with my father–especially if I go on a holiday–I come back, and it’s basically ‘I shall require organic vegetables three times a day with freshly churned butter. A pup cup of the finest double cream delivered daily and milked from a prized cow in Oxfordshire. For dinner, I shall dine on a lightly seared steak, a bit of duck confit and a brioche toast. Oh, and a couple of mini cannoli straight from Naples’.”

“Somehow, I am not even a little bit surprised,” Azriel admitted and Dev nodded in agreement. 

“The level of spoiling that he receives from my father is criminal.”

Azriel told himself that he was not nervous, when Elain took his arm, and they walked under the portico, the doors opening as if by magic.

There was a butler, who greeted them and called Elain ‘Lady Elain’. They walked through wide marble hallways and sitting rooms, Azriel feeling decidedly out of place even if he wouldn’t show it. Piglet tore through the house, howling happily, unconcerned about anything, and by the time they saw him next, it was in the dining room where a middle-aged gentleman was cooing and hugging the pug, rocking him like he was a baby. 

To Azriel’s surprise, Nesta was here too, but also Cassian–which was unexpected, to say the least. Cassian raised his shoulders, indicating that he had no idea why he was here, though it didn’t look like he was greatly burdened by the company. 

“Daddy!” Elain went to her father and he smiled at her. 

“Good morning, pumpkin,”

Pumpkin? That made Azriel smile. But the nickname fit. She was his little pumpkin.

“Please meet Mr. Azriel Night,” Elain introduced them. “My father, Sir Charles Archeron.”

“Arsenal captain,” the older man nodded knowingly. “My girls are Tottenham fans. I am an Arsenal man myself. Though I do enjoy rugby a lot as well.”

“I am slowly pulling Elain and Piglet to my side,” Azriel teased. 

“Oh, I saw all the photos on that Instagram that Elain has for the pup. He looked like a Gunner born and bred.”

Azriel laughed, “You follow him too?”

“How can I not,” he squeezed Piglet lovingly. “Barring my girls giving me actual grandchildren, this is so far, my only grand-pup,” he said dramatically.

Nesta rolled her eyes. Elain rolled her eyes.

And both groaned.

“This is what happens every time I mention grandchildren,” Mr. Archeron complained.

Just as he said the words, Rhys entered the room, holding a champagne flute, with Feyre on his arm. 

“Oh, you’ve arrived!” Feyre exclaimed with a wide smile. “I was just showing Rhys around.”

“Why are we all here, by the way?” Nesta asked impatiently. “I was looking forward to Annabel’s.”

“Forgive the change of plans,” Rhysand said breezily. “We’ll be sure to go to Annabel’s soon.”

“Well then, what is it?” Nesta sipped her mimosa, while silent servants circulated around the room with trays of champagne. “We are all here now.”

“I am curious myself,” Mr. Archeron agreed, while he gave Piglet a piece of cheese. “And I am pleasantly surprised to see my three daughters with such fine gentlemen. All here together, today.”

Nesta was about to protest the implication that she was here with Cassian, but Cassian put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, effectively quieting her down.

Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a glance, and then he said,

“Feyre and I got married earlier today. She is now Marchioness Feyre Archeron-Darling, Lady Darling. My wife.”

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Hiiii how are you doing,Hope your doing just lovely❤💗 your writing is really good so I was wondering if I could please request shanks x reader(any gender) in a scenario where y/n is out eith the red hair pirates and they go by a bar. Anf when y/n is sitting alone at a table not to far from the crew and random guy starts to flirt with y/n.

it's been so long to get back to this request cause i couldn't write anything for the life of me [im so sorry]. sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy the meal <3

jealousy, jealousy ft. shanks!

(drabble) in which, shanks gets jealous and decides to take back what's rightfully his. warning: [jumps straight to smex im sorry]; nsfw contains rough sex, penetration, dirty talking. mdni as always :)

"sh-shanks—" you moan around his fingers but he's unforgiving. his digits dig deeper into your mouth, pushing past your pretty lips, till he can feel your moans against his skin. he groans at the way you suck on his fingers, the way your drag your hips backwards and take his dick so good. "hm? what is it, love?" he replies nonchalantly, as if you both weren't holed up in a random janitor's closet at some bar. his dick pistons in and out of you, the appendage dragging against your muscles deliciously as his other hand digs deeper against the fat of your hips.

the captain was furious, ofcourse. he had seen you laugh along with some other guy, downing the drink he had bought you in one swift go. he noticed how you twirled your hair, how your eyes followed that man's lips in a wicked trance.

even though you kept claiming you weren't flirting, he could practically see that man undressing his girl with his lewd fucking thoughts and glances. so, of course, he had had no choice but to drag you into this shabby, small room and fuck you till you remember you were his. "please sha—" but he doesn't let you finish, pressing his deft fingers firm in your mouth "hm? saying something?" his fingers dig deeper as do his thrusts. his hips snap faster, the contact of skin on skin almost burning. but it all melts to nothing as he places a soft kiss to your neck. too soft. maybe he realizes that too, because he immediately chases the soft press of his lips with a feral bite. his fingers move from your mouth, dragging downwards to land against your neck. and you can feel your own spit messily press against the column of your throat. he presses down hard, cock sinking into you and out of with wicked ease, and sweat travels down your spine. the room only grew hotter. "say," he grunts, pulling your hips backwards to match his ruthless pace, "what was that- ha-fu- fuck- that boy talkin' bout?" but you're too cockdrunk, too hung up on the way his fingers trail over your hips and the curve of your ass, the way they snake upwards and pull your hair back. he has the audacity to laugh as you gasp, your pussy clenching around his cock, your clit throbbing in pure neglect. "answer me, come on baby." "nothing" you shake your head violently, babbling as he pulls your hair back once more, "ah- ngh- sh-shanks, nothing, i promise." "really? didn't seem that way when he practica—lly hah, shi— when he eye-fucked you in front of me." he mocks you with a laugh, the huffs warm against your back. he pushes you further against the wall, your cheek squished against the wall. you gasp as his calloused fingers finally move down to your puffy nub. "fuccck ohmygod ohmygod shanks-" but he's far too angry to care. instead of careful, calculated circles that will make you cream on his rock-hard cock, he chooses to press down harshly. you would scream but his voice ghosts next to your ear, "don't forget, you're mine, yeah?" your voice climbs in pitch as does his feverish thrusts, his skin against yours. his taut abs press against your sweaty back and his fingers press down harder on your abused clit, "gonna cum? fu-fuuck look at how your pussy milks me fuckin dry." but you can do nothing but take it. mouth agape and drooling as he pounds into you till you reach your breaking point and he reaches his. he pulls out, swiftly painting your back in his favourite colour and you slump forward, too spent to do anything else. he tugs your skirt downwards, jaw clenched shut in rage, "i hope it made it through your thick skull, if i haven't fucked you too dumb. don't let me see you with that boy again."

but when he turns you around and presses a kiss to your temple, you ease into him. he mumbles against your skin, "i'm sorry, but only i get to fuck you like this yeah?" the captain raises you face such that his lips ghost over yours. you can smell cheap liquor and jealousy on his tongue but you nod, too fucked out to present any arguments.

"good girl," his lips still ghost over yours, "let's get back to the ship 'n i'll fuck you once more to remind who you belong to, gonna fuck you till my name is all you remember."

nobody would guess that the man that was carrying you into his arms, pressing down against you so adoringly is the same man that'll ruin you as soon as you're back home.

[jacenotjason]

hellooo!! helloo!! I have... I have TWO QUESTIONS!! 1. How would each of them react to someone being homophobic/transphobic towards them? 2. uhhh how would they react if they saw their parents? especially the ones that don't like/have never met parents (i was gonna put something else for the second one but uhhh i frogor uh oh)

OH BOY TWO QUESTIONS!! Ok lets all pray Tumblr doenst eat this its gonna be a lot

Ok first question, how would they react to someone being queerphobic to them?

Eddie: “mhm… sure…” he does not care. He deosnt really listen to people in the first place, the second you start trying to offend him he just tones you out. He does not give half a shit. Maybe if you keep talking.. a fuck will fall into his hand!

Poppy: being queerphobic to her?? Eh. Who cares. She lived through a homophobic cult and also bigoted parents, shes got tough skin. Being queerphobic to her children? PREPARE TO CATCH THESE TALONS BIIIITCH

Julie: absolutely roasts you. She takes one look at you and digs up your nastiest trauma some how. Like this “ew a girl dating a girl thats gay (idk how to be homophobic)” “? *looks up and down* okay? I didn’t ask, go tell your mom. Oh, wait shes dead isn’t she? And your father isn’t even present, he left when you were 6 and you had to rely on your Grandfathers homophobic ideology and your Grandmothers abuse. I don’t care what you have to think.” Then the homophobe just lays on the floor in the fetal position.

Sally: “196.251.208.6” get doxxed.

Frank: he just starts crying :( then he goes and tells Eddie and hes gonna stab you

(How do you even be homophobic to someone questioning??) Barnaby: “I know my identity isn’t the root of your anger.. come here, sit down, lets talk it out..” uuuh free therapy? He just summons tea bc all grandpas have the ability to just summon tea

Howdy: i actually have no idea. Ik hes sort of gotten this reputation as violent but hes- guys hes pathetic. He probably just laughs at them and shoos them away, maybe pull the gun from under the counter if he needs to

OK ooo o this ones a little less fun.. if they met their parents

Eddie: quick Eddie lore he was raised in joint custody, his parents hate each other so… uhm.. were getting the gang back together! He’d probably just sit with his face in his hands as his parents fight like “Ohmygod.. guys stop” they blame each other for how Eddie ended up and hes like “Im literally right here”

Poppy: shes long gotten over her fear of her parents. She’s happy and thats all that matters, she’ll happily tell off her parents like a GIRLBOSS YEAAAHHH happily explain how she escaped the cult they sent her too and how happy she is rn

Julie: uhm.. Julie’s parents are dead. Next question. Lmao ok but fr if she like.. came back to life she’d be so happy :3 she, and all the other joyfuls, were raised by a single mom and Julie got all her “men are trash, defend urself, never be afraid to punch a man” type ideology from her mom and her mom was super accepting and she misses herrr :((

Sally: now you may think Sally has a terrible relationship with her parents.. but she doesnt :3 shes unable to see her mom (for agoraphobic, mental health, and also legal reasons) but she loves her a lot. Her mom did sort of raise her in shitty conditions, but Sally doesn’t blame her at all and misses her a lottt wah

Frank: no

Barnaby: ooohh no… so uuh lore for those that dont know, Barnaby’s parents gave him up to the “”””boarding school”””” when he was four and he doesnt remember them. He’d probably be happier then he should to meet them, but most definitely get gaslit by his parents :( like they have what Barnaby thinks is a normal conversation but really isnt.. someone stop it q-p

Howdy: he fuckin loves his dad!! And all his family!!! And he sees them regularly, so itd just be a normal visit

AAA big post ee

Also tumblr didnt eat it thank u tumblr

[dykeomania]

𝒎𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒔: "please."

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: riding subtop!ellie's thigh as a punishment until she cracks because she edged you (implied). Lol.

𝐚/𝐧: defining a “blurb” as something similar to a one mic, one take, except it’s more like.. whatever i write in one sitting. it is just a really, really, really coherent thought. so. anyways, subtop!ellie stans, stand the fuck up. subbottom!ellie stans, y’all are next. this isn't an actual fic, so, this isn't the last of sub!ellie on my blog, i'm not gonna just do her dirty like that. kinda proofread, but not really focusing too much on it, 'cause that throws away the whole point. it's alright. entirely for the culture. join the slutting out ellie train or get left behind!!!!!!!!! (also fun fact, this was actually a part of guilty pleasure. but i.. edited guilty pleasure. so. now it's here.)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, mdni. vulgar language (dirty talk, like, ellie is... down terrible), choking. pwithoutp, as per usual. it's. it's..... it's.......... Mhm.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 746. sumn light.

.   .   .   .

"beg." ellie has seen a million different versions of herself but she'd argue that none of them have ever been this small. she's looking up at you with the biggest, brightest, pair of doe green eyes that you think you've ever seen, and you can feel her breath trembling; slipping through the gate of her top teeth that's digging into her lower lip or stumbling out of her parted lips that yours are hovering over. she's so delirious and drunk off the feeling of your pussy against her bare thigh, she could cry. the way you drag your clit over the tensed muscle, your slick cunt making her skin glisten and she can't see it, but fuck, can she feel it. she would do anything to have you replace her thigh with her face. anything, to have you replace her thigh with her own pussy and let you use her even when she's too sensitive.

anything to be able to loosen the tight grip of the blanket she had at her sides and reach her hand up and just fucking touch you, in any way.

"y/n, please," it's a plea that sounds like it should be accompanied by a tear, or a grit of her teeth; so frayed, and cracked around all of its edges, "i have been so. so. fucking. good. please, i'll do whatever you want --" she can feel you rutting against her thigh quicker, and she's gasping at this point. she needs to fuck you. if she had any idea how fucking ridiculous she looked right now, she'd probably shoot herself. "--i'll fuck you so good, i'll make you feel so fucking good -- i'll make you feel better, y/n, please. please? please, baby-- fuck, please--"

you had to shut her up by tightening your hand around her throat. had to. or else ellie would've kept going -- could've kept going for however long she needed to as long as it meant that she got to do something, be it as simple as kiss you, getting the chance to drag her hand over your skin, press her fingers into your hips, push her thigh against your fucking clit, to kiss you, to feel you,

ellie has never, ever, been this. fucking. small.

"you wanna touch me?" you coo, hand involuntarily tightening around your girlfriend's throat.

her eyes are like mossy puddles as she looks at you. her breaths skipping, her voice between a whine and a murmur as she sighs out a "yes." "yeah, what do you want?" "want your pussy on my face, want you to fucking grind your pussy on my tongue, fucking -- please."

"you wanna fucking make me cum, huh? you think you deserve to, you're fucking sorry?"

"fuck, yes--" she slurs, "say it." "m'so--m'so sorry, i'm so, so sorry, i'm so fucking sorry, baby, please--"

"lay down." your words -- solidified by you actually moving off of ellie's thigh -- are sudden and unexpected. and after an extremely unproductive half hour, they make ellie's eyes light up like fucking slot machines. "fucking lay down right now, before i change my mind."

"ohmygod," absolution permeates ellie's voice as she rushes to shuffle to.. wherever you need her to be, want her to be, what-the-fuck-ever. she couldn't care less. couldn't care more about anything other than the sight of your cunt, shining and clit swollen, being readied to lower onto her face. this had to be religious. it was like she was about to be fucking baptized, "you better fucking make me cum, or i swear to god."

"oh, fuck," ellie is already scrambling at the sight of your pussy, which to her, is essentially the actual second coming of christ, personified. reaching to pull you down, so eager to experience the bliss of your glistening cunt, "oh my god, thank you." "hey." ellie whimpers at the sudden abrupt grasp that you take on her jaw. "are you gonna fucking make me cum?" "i will-- i will, i will," ellie nods, fingers pressing into your thighs "fuck, i will. i promise. m'sorry -- fuck, m'so sorry, thank you."

you take a second to marvel at the girl beneath you. her damp skin glistening, purely with anticipation. her expression wrecked, her face flushed, her entire existence in this moment being entirely devoted to you. your grip softens, and you find yourself nodding too as you pass a hand through her hair, grasping onto it for leverage and slightly pushing her head back into the cushions, "good girl."

"always," ellie sighs, her hot breath fanning against your lowering pussy, "so good, just for you."

[anawrites3]

Ignore my last ask. Your name is similar to another author who does Stony and Sambucky. But same ask, but

Bakugou and Deku are on a double date with Kirishima and Denki who just had a baby and Bakugou is jealous.

That's just mean, you should say that I'm special and unique and no one in the world is like me 😂💕 Kidding of course!

Thank you for your ask, I was actually ready to write it as Marvel characters, only I don't know much about them so dunno how that would turn out 😂

This was fun! I havent wrote anything for bnha in a long time so this felt nostalgic haha

Katsuki stared at the baby in front of him. The baby stared back. He frowned. The baby smiled, showing off toothless gums.

"Can you please stop glaring at her?" Kirishima sighed. "You're stressing her out."

"She seems pretty happy to be here." Izuku observed carefully.

"Alright, let me rephrase that. You're stressing me out by glaring at her."

"Please do not fight our daughter." Denki added hurriedly.

"Kacchan won't be fighting her. Or- or anyone!" Izuku stressed.

Katsuki watched the way she reached out towards him with her little chubby hand.

"I'm really sorry we had to bring her along but her nanny got sick and we didn't have time to find anyone else to look after her." Eijirou smiled apologetically before sitting his daughter more comfortably on his laps. She babbled at him happily. "We'll make it up to you guys next time."

"Oh no, please don't worry about that! It's no problem at all." Izuku smiled at them, before digging his elbow into Katsuki's side. The blond grunted but still didn't look away from the baby. "Kacchan, tell them that it's not a problem."

"It's not a fucking problem."

"See?"

"Ohmygod." Denki whined.

The baby reached out towards Katsuki again and this time he caught her hand between his fingers. She was so small. So little. Her tiny hand basically disappeared in Katsuki's grip.

"The problem," He started, looking back at his boyfriend. "Is that we don't have a baby of our own."

Izuku, who was just taking a sip of his drink, choked very painfully.

"Wh-what?!" He croaked out. "What are you talking about?!"

"I'm talking about a baby. I want a baby too." Katsuki glared at Eijirou again. "Give her to me."

"No!"

[fukashiin]

rating my mutuals!

i dont have too many but it'd still be fun to rate you guys as a small bday gift from me in return for the interactions and moments I've made with you up until now <33 (if you arent here then i was too shy to mention you but i love your works tremendously!!)

@jeidoleech ⤷ KHOI !

1000/10

my first ever twst mutual on tumblr actually. you dont understand i squealed like SQUEALED when you followed me back and tagged me in your mutuals list?? i was over the moon <33 your writing style is adorable and it really butters my biscuits AND I WAS OBSESSED WITH YOUR BABY BLUE THEME WHEN I FIRST FOLLOWED YOU GOODBYE. so thank you?? for following me like?? SO much??? you were apart of the reasons why i wanted to continue writing for this fandom <3333 i cant keep up with you altering between jade and Floyd im gnna be completely honest OKAY.

@mifyu ⤷ MIFFY !

youre adorable/10

some of the sweetest people I've ever met hello??? and your themes just??? top it off???? i was super shy to ask if you wanted to become mutuals but ohmygod i wasnt expecting you to be the ballsy one. thank you for becoming mutuals with me your works are just the prettiest and im looking forward to more!! i bet if we had a competition to see who could say 'ily more' you'd win by a mile.

@iuuru ⤷ MILLIE

我愛你你你你/10

HELLO IM SO GLAD I REACHEDJ OUT TO YOU WHAT. you match my energy so well and i love that abt you??? MY CHINESE SPEAKIMG COMPANION???? the moment i clicked on your blog i just KNWEW i had to become your moot you just seemed so fun and lovable AND YOU ARE. i was able to improve my chi vocab by a little bit because of you and im genuinely so grateful?? MY FAV LEONA KISSER YOUR WORKS AND IMAGINATION IS LITERALLY IMPECCABLE ILYSM I HOPE TO SPEAK IN CHI WITH YOU SM MORE AND CRASH THE TAG LIMIT BY FAWNING OVER YOUR WORKS

@tinyletterz ⤷ REMY !

stop being so gorgeous???/10

i could use up all the synonyms for beautiful in all the languages i know and it still wouldn't be enough. your works are the prettiest???hello??? whyre they so soft and fuzzy??? u deserve all the cupcakes and cats in the world ill literally take you to the cat island. youre personality is so lovely i literally go through the whole water cycle whenever you answer my ask??? so thank you for being my mutual<33 ALSO WHAT SHOULD WE NAME OUR CAT CAFE??

newer mutuals who i'd love to know better!

your guys' personalities are amazingf and itms such an honour to be your mutual KISSES

@siphoklansan ⤷ SIPHOK !

YOUREAMAZINGATARTSTOP/10

your works. your animations. who allowed you to be that talented??? ill always remember the time you said i was lively and fun even before we became mutuals! that made my day!! youre literally some of the nicest people ive met on this app so never give up on your passion for art IM LITERKALLY GOBBLING THEJM ALL UP <3

@twistedchatterbox ⤷ NOIR !

9038839/10

i cnat believe your first interaction with me was digging up my thirst post for idia STOP. IM A CHANGED PERSON. but ohmygod youre so good at art too?? can you stop being so talented with both writing AND drawing???? but regardless im so happy to be your mutual you seem so hardworking with every work you post and i appreciate that sm?? AND I LOVE YOUR OC. SHES BEAUTIFUL;

@cupids-chamber ⤷ CUPID !

i relate to you an eerie amount/10

i couldve sworn i started hyperventilating the moment i saw you follow me????? you may not think that your crack fics are funny BUT THEY REALLY ARE??? at the same time your normal ones make me SQUEAL AND KICK MY FEET IN THE AIR IM SO TEMPTED TO GET RUN OVER BY AN ACTIVE SPEEDING BUS. and congrats on 4.35k!! i hope we interact a lot more <33

⤷ FOLLOWERS !

♾/10

FROM DECEMBER UNTIL NOW IM SO SO GRATEFUL FOR THE NUMBER OF FOLLOWERS I CURRENTLY JHAVE??? YOU GUYS READ MY WORKS AND LIKED/REBLOGGED AND ITS LITERALLY SO MUCH MORE I COULD EVER ASK FOR??????? SO I JUST WANTED TO SAY THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT YOURE ALL SUPER IMPORTANT AND DEAR TO ME I LOVE YOU ALL SMM<333

[bluemooniegif]

**BSD manga spoilers**

What do you think of the similarities between Fukuchi's new outfit and Hawthorne's original disguise?

( If only I had a nickel for every time a masked, hooded character worked with Fyodor to spread an infection ability . . . )

I genuinely had to just sit and stare at these images because OHMYGOD

One thing with costumes in BSD is that there are often repetitions, and they're never done by accident. Something these two have in common is the belief that it's their responsibility to bring about a better world-- Fukuchi by opening One Order, and Hawthorne through passing on God's judgement.

If we think of the mask as their goal (a better world brought about by their actions), we get a very interesting insight into their true beliefs. Hawthorne fully prescribes to his goal, namely because he was brainwashed by Fyodor, and wears the mask properly. Fukuchi, despite his actions, wears the mask on half his face. That could be chalked up to Harukawa's desire for us to know immediately who he is, but I think it's more telling of his internal monologue. Will this save the world? Will the change he wants truly come to be? The loss of his best friend and closest confident, who was willing to fight him to the death because he thought this was wrong, would shake any man. While I do believe Fukuchi is fully committed to his cause, I struggle to believe that he is totally guiltless.

Also, I want to note that this entire spread is very... religious-looking. The clothing, the background, the text... Very interesting. My brain is about to explode so I can't really dig much deeper, but just know I am thinking thoughts about this.

[llondonfog]

MISS LETTIE I GOTTA SAY THIS MY FAVOURITE AU FROM YOU WAS ALWAYS THIS ONE where general lilia finds present day silver on a tower AND OHMYGOD THE ABSOLUTEEE PEAKKK HAPPINESSSSS that made me scream "OHMYGOODNESS JUST LIKE THAT FANFIC!!!!KQHDJW" on my screen when i realize past lilia is meeting!!! his future son!!!!! WHAT. A. BLAST. i knew u were so right for that-- i always envisioned this fic as canon and now it actually came true-- 😭😭 (srry for the capslock thou my excitement is at sebeks voice loudness rn 😟💥)

IMS DJDJSDKKDKDKDJDJDJ

I'M SO HAPPY YOU LOVED AND STILL THINK OF THAT AU!!!! (I really REALLY need to dig into that again, it was such a fun concept!!!!) BUT TO THINK ABOUT IT WHILE CH7 WAS UNFOLDING IN REAL TIME IM GENUINELY SO AHHHHHHHH

Nothing could make me happier than to know you guys get so much joy and remember my writing, I'm really emotional right now FOR ALL REASONS CH7 INCLUDED!!!!

Silver meeting General Vanrouge is a trope that's so Near and Dear to my heart AND IT CAME TRUE???? THE FANFICS THE FAN ART WE'RE GONNA BE SO BLESSED

[mochiwrites]

Hi! I think I once sent an ask about how I accidentally got into hermitshipping by being terrible at reading tags on your crime AU and really enjoying it even after I went 'oh wait this is a ship fic woops!'? I just wanted to say thanks again for being my gateway into this fun aspect of the fandom, I've read everything you've written so far (and often came out of some going 'huh y'know I can kinda see why people dig this ship' (like ranchers)), and your writing is just *chef's kiss*

I'm finally hitting that stage of "I need to consume more... so I'll just have to make it myself" so again! Thanks for the creativity boost and everything! <3

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WAILS?????? OMG??????? I REMEMBER YOU :D

uwahhhh you're very welcome !!!! I'm really glad you've enjoyed!!! it's definitely a very fun aspect of the fandom to be involved in, so I'm glad you like it here!!! :D and sobs???? ty for reading everything?????? omg?????? that's so much reading ohmygod are your eyes okay??? also the,,, the emotional whiplash of all that, anon are you okay--

but !!!!!!!! I'm super happy to have given you a creativity boost!!! :D come create with us, yessss >:3c join the joys of creation >>:3c