#sloan!reader

[sky-is-the-limit]

[kruegerslov3r]

daddy issue? I LOVE DADDY ISSUES 🫶❤️

[hihomeghere]

Insomniac

Word Count : 1.8k Summary : Five has trouble sleeping and when he does sleep it's anything but peaceful. After a nightmare he craves your touch to remind him you're okay. Warnings/Tags : Talk of nightmares, insomnia, smut, piv, cursing, allusions to violence, use of y/n, Aged up!Five

Happy Valentine’s Day <3

Whether or not Five wanted to admit it he was an insomniac. Blame it on his heightened survival instincts from the apocalypse, or the commission. Whenever it was time to relax and go to sleep, Five felt more wired than ever. Which led to you normally finding him in the strangest positions when he finally crashed. Whether that be hunched over the kitchen table, cold coffee in a mug next to him. Sometimes you’d find him slouched in a chair, a blanket draped over him by one of his brothers. Your favorite was when you’d be watching a movie together, his eyes slowly closing, he’d mumble something along the lines of, ‘just resting his eyes for a second’ before he’d be snoring on your shoulder. A sure sign that he was still an old man in a young man’s body.

It’s not like he didn’t try to sleep. Every night you’d both climb into bed, you’d lay your head on his chest, the soft beat of his heart lulling you to sleep. He’d lay awake, his mind constantly churning. He’d gotten so desperate at one point he’d tried to follow the meditation video Klaus had lent him. Although listening to some lady stoned out of her mind telling him to breathe deep only agitated him further.

On the nights where Five did fall asleep it was anything but peaceful.

Five screamed, waking you up as you all but jumped out of your skin. Five sat up in bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing erratic. You sat up, the sheet pooling around your waist.

“Five?” You whispered your hand lightly grazing his back. He jumped, turning to you like a cornered animal. His lips pulled back in a snarl, wide eyes glaring at you. “Hey,” You pulled back watching the gears turn behind his eyes, guilt washing over him as he realized you weren’t a threat. “Hey it’s ok, you’re ok.” He leaned forward resting his head on your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him. His heart was beating like a small animal against your chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Hot tears wetting your collarbone.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” You soothed, your hand traveling up to his head. You ran your fingers through hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He let out a shuddering breath, loosening his grip around your waist. “Do you want some tea?” You asked, you had been trying to help him kick his coffee addiction.

“Coffee.” He mumbled, sighing into your neck.

“Ok, let’s get some coffee.” You said peeling the sheets off the two of you. He sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. You grabbed your robe off the floor, wrapping it around your body. Five stood by your bedroom door, bleary eyed. You took his hand leading him down the stairs to the kitchen. You looked at the clock as you passed the oven, 2:35. You internally sighed slipping your hand out of Five’s grasp. He pulled out a chair, grimacing as it scraped across the tile floor. You walked over to your new Keurig, Five’s birthday present. You popped one of the pods in before shutting the lid. You walked over to the kitchen cupboards, pulling out a mug and setting it in the Keurig. The smell of coffee filled the air as Five got up from his seat. He walked up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck. You had both been trying to be more open about your pasts. Which meant having these uncomfortable conversations.

“Just-” He sighed, “Just stay with me for a minute, dearest.” You nodded slightly swaying as you both stood in the kitchen. Five loosened his grip around your waist, reaching past you to pick up his coffee cup. You leaned against the counter, pulling your robe closer around your body. He held the mug in one of his hands, leaning his head back against the cupboard cabinet. He let out a sigh before taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re staring.” He mused, turning to look at you.

“I’m just-” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders, “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” He said with a tight lipped smile. You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms.

“I know you better than that.” You said a small smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“Then you know what it was about.” He huffed, bringing the mug to his lips.

“A or c?” You asked, looking down at your feet. You had invented a code between the two of you, A for apocalypse and C for commission. While you couldn’t relate to being stuck in a post apocalyptic world, you were all too familiar with the inner workings of the commission. The killings you both carried out plagued your dreams as well. Your hands had been stained long ago.

“C.” He answered. The commission. Well that narrowed it down.

“Real or not real?” He hesitated, sneaking a glimpse toward you before raising his gaze toward the ceiling.

“Not real.” He said before clearing his throat. You walked over to him, laying your hands on his cheek. He avoided your gaze keeping his eyes lo

“Was it about me?” You asked, pushing his head slightly with your hand to get him to look at you.

“Yeah.” He said clenching his jaw, his eyes darted away from yours. You waited for a moment, to see if he would say anything more.

“I’m right here.” You whispered after a moment had passed, “I’m right here and I’m ok.”

“I know,” He leaned forward his lips finding your neck, he breathed in your sweet scent. The tiniest hint of sweat from the night. His hands found your hips, pulling you against him.

“I need you.” He breathed against your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses.

“You have me.” You sighed, leaning your head back offering him your neck.

The world spun and the temperature dropped as Five blinked you both back to your room. It took a second to get your bearings before your knees hit the bed. You allowed Five to lay you down, his long fingers curling under the waistband of your pajama pants. He pulled them off, while you pulled your shirt over your head.

“So gorgeous.” He murmured, kissing up your stomach. You sighed contently, melting under his touch. He pulled away briefly, pulling his shirt off and stepped out of his pajama bottoms. Leaving both of you in your underwear. He lifted your hips up off the bed, his fingers curling into the waistband on your panties as he pulled them off. Your body buzzed with anticipation as you watched him take off his boxers. He climbed forward onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You grabbed the back of his neck pulling him forward into a kiss as the head of his cock found your entrance. Tasting the bitter coffee on his tongue as slipped inside with the familiar ease of a lover. You gasped into his mouth, feeling every inch of him as he pressed inside you.

“There you are.” He sighed against your lips, his own curling into an easy smile.

“Five-“ You moaned, gripping his shoulders as he slowly started thrusting inside you. He never left your cunt, hips rolling against yours. Your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close as possible. Your moans and the sweet sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air. You looked up at Five, his eyes bore into yours. You felt a bit shy under his gaze, your eyes darting away.

He stilled, laying his forearms beside your head as leant over you. He covered your body with his own, his hand turning your head so you would look at him.

“Let me see you.” He said softly, nosing against your cheek.

It was moments like this that made you feel like a normal person. Moments when it was just the two of you in the world, two becoming one. He reached down, grabbing your thigh, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh. “You feel so good.” He mumbled, pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. He was taking his time with you tonight, that much was clear.

Your heels dug into his butt, trying to pull him closer to you. He let out a small laugh, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. He slowed, his hips creating a low drag into your cunt with every thrust. His pubic hair rubbing against your clit in a delicious way that had you clenching around him. A low whine pulling its way out of your throat, as he propped himself up.

“You like that doll?” He whispered, his cock rubbed at your walls in deliberate strokes.

“Mmhm.” You nodded tears springing to your eyes as you bit your lip. Your body craved more, more stimulation, more Five. “Please.” You whined, your hands digging into his shoulders, leaving small crescent shapes in their wake.

“Please what?” He asked tilting his head as he leaned down, nipping and sucking at your neck.

“More, I need more please.” You said bucking your hips up to gain and friction.

“As you wish.” He said, his breath fanning across your neck as he snapped his hips into yours. You moaned, your eyes rolling back into your head as he set an excruciating pace. He sat back on his heels, pulling you down the bed with him. He slammed into you, leaving you a moaning mess under him. You grabbed his thighs, nails dragging down his pale legs. Your body buzzed as you neared your high, breasts bouncing as he drove into again and again.

He watched you, picking up subtle signs your orgasm was approaching. Your toes curled as he reached between your bodies, rubbing deliberate circles on your clit.

That was enough to send you over the edge, you spasmed around him, your nails digging into his thighs as you cried out. Tears slipping down your cheeks.

“That’s it.” He smirked, breathing hard. He was getting sloppy as he neared his peak. You continued to ride out your orgasm as his came crashing down.

“F-Fuck.” He groaned spilling into you, his hips stuttering as he painted your insides. He lowered his body onto yours, laying his head in the crook of your neck as he interlaced his fingers with yours. You both breathed hard, letting your heart rate come down.

“How do you feel now?” You asked breathlessly, squeezing his hands.

“Much better.” He nodded, kissing your neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You said pulling your hands away to wrap them around his sweaty body.

Needless to say, Five slept through the night

[fanartist666]

Reader: "JOHNATHAN MICHAEL PRICE."

John 'Bravo0-6' Price, 6'3 200+lb SAS captain:

(Ty staytrueblue for his middle name being Michael btw)

[angel5ofp0rn]

that’s it that’s the whole post

[utterlyazriel]

let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

[lokidbadguy]

STALKER CODED!

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: none yet

Part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

———————

“John Price, military captain, heavily decorated, and unmarried.” you read off of a printed sheet of paper. He’s the third person you’ve seen today that wants to rent the room available. You were praying this one would be a success. You weren’t looking to house the married couples or the rowdy in love teenagers you’d seen earlier on today.

“Yes ma’am that is me.” He says looking down at you, not metaphorically but physically he’s inches above you. You’re far younger than he imagined, beautiful and so awfully well spoken that he’d assumed you’d be either his age or older.

“If this is your job and you’re not married and don't have kids I’m sure you get paid well. Why do you need a roommate?” You say hoping you don’t sound rude but with a job like that this man could afford much better.

“I’m not home much and basically live on base but for the times I do briefly return home id like it to be in a place like your home, beautiful, deserted, quiet.” The last few places he stayed in were apartments and he wanted to settle into something he actually cared to return to, not just someplace that could hold some belongings.

“Well then Mr.Price let me show you the rooms and house, follow me.” You lead him into your home through the halls and the living room simply showing him around making small talk about your job and hobbies.

“If you don’t mind me asking why is it you need a roommate?” He later returns the question, you halt in your tracks and stand still for a second making John hope he hadn’t overstepped.

“I was in a long term relationship that ended two years ago and when we broke up he left me the house or I technically demanded I keep it and um bills have been hard to keep up with.” You Look him in the eyes and smile softly, relieving him of the anxious feeling he’s holding.

“Sorry for asking.” He sincerely apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it, I think it's better you did because this will lead us to the next thing.” You reassure him and continue walking through a pair of French doors.

“This will be your office, I’m sorry about the boxes, they're a little too heavy for me to carry through this house and throw away.” You point to a fair amount of them pushed into a corner.

“No, don't worry about it, I'll get them out.” He replies kindly.

“And then right through here would be your bedroom.” It's exactly to the right of his office, a huge room which must be the master. He wonders if this had been the room you shared with your ex and by the look that covers your gorgeous features, he’s right.

“It has its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. If you want to live here, I’d like the home to be treated as if we both own it, not like you just rent a room, especially for the price.” You explain and truly that is your hope. He’s the perfect tenant and on his submission form he’s looking for a long term place which would mean less worry about the future bills on your behalf.

“When can I start moving in?” He turns to look in your hopeful eyes.

“Immediately if you want it of course.” You say with excitement. The mortgage payments have been a burden and this was a huge relief.

“Is it okay if I have some of my mates help me take these boxes out?” You nod enthusiastically with a quiet

‘of course’.

“I'll be back here early in the morning, Thankyou for inviting me into your home.” He says turning to make way back down the path you took to the room.

“Thankyou Mr.Price.” You offer your hand as a settlement.

“Call me John please.” He shakes it politely.

“I'll see you tomorrow john.” You say walking him to the door and bidding him a goodbye.

—————-

“Be honest captain, is she cute?” John had the unfortunate situation of having to haul soap with him in his car while the two other men drove the moving truck that he only rented to get rid of the boxes you had.

“She’s nearly a decade younger than me.” He answers hoping that’ll lay it to rest.

‘That doesn’t answer my question.” Soap never chooses peace.

“Yeah she’s stunning.” And really you were.

—————————-

“Hi good morning, come in.” You say opening the door letting the cold air sweep into your warm home. Eyeing the huge men that stood in the doorway.

“Good morning this is soap, gaz, and that's ghost if you couldn’t tell. This is my task force and certainly my best mates.” John replies quickly giving them an introduction.

“Nice to meet you all.” You say trying your hardest to not sound intimidated.

“And you as well, gorgeous.” Soap says gripping your small hand in his own.

“He’s a flirt, don't worry about him.” Gaz says, shaking your hand next.

“Nice to meet you.” Ghost offers you his gloved hand giving you the softest handshake he thinks he’s ever given in his life.

“Well you boys can get too it there is pastries on the counter and drinks in the fridge if you need anything i'll be in my room that’s down this hall.” You say smiling at all of them then reaching into the pocket on your paint stained overalls fishing out a pair of keys.

“Oh and before I can forget John these are yours, this one is too your office and bedroom door and this one is too the house door.” You say handing them over on the pink keychain you’ve kept them on all this time.

“Thank you.” He says before you walk away.

————————

“That little lady does not know how to pack these. They are insanely heavy, how'd she ever expect to get them out.” Soap says picking up a box from the office room that’s filled with papers.

“I don’t think that was her main concern.” John says as he also picks one up walking them outside and into the U-Haul he rented.

“She’s a true stunner though, how will John Price be able to resist?” He teases his captain.

“I’m with soap on that one.” Ghost surprisingly grumbles throwing a box down on the gravel.

“Should’ve seen the way she was looking at you captain.” Gaz enters this pointless conversation out of breath gently setting down more boxes.

“I actually think you're the only one here whose age is appropriate for her gaz.” Gaz makes a sound of disagreement.

“Captain 8 years isn’t what you’re making it seem, don't you remember when soap had a girlfriend like 13 years older than him.” The memory flashes through all their minds and ghost has to keep himself from giggling.

“And don’t you remember how it ended.” It was ugly, soap found that when time passes people get older and being 37 with a 50 year old wasn’t what he thought it’d be.

“All I’m saying is I think some romance with a pretty lady like that could do you some good. I mean your living in a home together tension will get to you at some point.” John rolls his shoulders back and sighs.

“Shut up and get back to work, all of you.” The captain says demanding as they all hurry back inside.

But what if?

——————-

“Wow, I don't know when’s the last time I've seen these rooms empty.” You say walking into the office.

“Was it all his?” John says giving you a one up at the change in clothes. You're wearing your pajamas which consist of shorts and a big shirt.

“Yeah it was, when will you be bringing in your own stuff?” You reply quickly changing the topic.

“I actually have all my stuff in my truck, only three boxes, I’m not a man of many possessions.” He laughs Gruffly swiping a hand over his mouth.

“I have clean sheets in my closet if you’ll be needing some.” You offer politely.

“Please.” He says and you nod, turning to go get them.

“I’ll just be bringing in the rest of my belongings.” He says walking down the opposite end of the hallway.

He brings the boxes in one by one, setting them in the office not paying mind to where you could have gone till he brings the last one in and hears you humming in the bedroom putting what were to be his pillows inside pillow cases.

“Oh love you didn’t have too. I've been making my own bed on base for longer than my memory goes back.” His deep voice slightly startles you.

“Sorry, it's just a habit.” You apologize softly and he wonders if it came off the wrong way.

“No, Thankyou is what I really mean.” He says slightly smiling at the floral print sheets that now adorn his bed.

“Sorry these are actually the least feminine looking ones I have.” You smile realizing how silly it looks for a man as manly as the one who stands before you to have blue and pink flower sheets.

“No worries love.” He nods to you.

“Well I'll see you in the morning, goodnight.” You say giving him a small pat on the shoulder and leaving to what he could only assume to be your bedroom.

He got changed for the night, ready to settle into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows the scent of lavender and a perfume that had to solely be you was invading his senses. Something so feminine and warm and good, god was it good. He turned his head slightly more into the pillow taking a deep breath in and out enjoying it. The more he focused on it the easier the sleep had come and before he knew it he was sleeping like a bear in hibernation.

—————————————-

I’m ready for a new story.

Comments and reposts and greatly appreciated<3

If anyone has thoughts or ideas on how this should go please send them in.

[sky-is-the-limit]

Till his beard gets so bleached that they confuse him with Santa.

[wndaswife]

it’s your privilege | taylor sloane & fem!reader

Taylor can’t help herself from teasing you. She often thinks it’s a form of cuteness aggression.

Word count: 4270

Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff, masturbation, cunnilingus, strap-ons, light choking, brief hair-pulling, a lot of teasing, light/sorta degradation, praise (taylor was feeling generous), dom!taylor sloane

“You were awfully quiet tonight,” you heard Taylor say from the washroom. You looked up from your phone and saw her rubbing in her facial serum in the mirror with the tips of her fingers. 

You set your phone face down on the pillow beside you, sitting up and tucking your hands under your thighs. “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t feel much like talking with everyone.” 

After some moments of silence while you watched Taylor finish up her nighttime routine, her eyes met yours through the mirror. She smiled at the sight of your softened expression once your eyes met, a glint of mischief mirrored through her reflection.

Taylor liked that she was able to make you so soft, that all she had to do was tease you a little or even just meet your eyes to make you feel better than anyone else could. 

She thought you were so cute and sensitive and so obsessed with her. 

Turning the washroom light off and closing the door behind her, she approached you sitting with your legs hanging from the bed. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you removed your hands from under your thighs to support her as she took a seat sideways on your lap. 

“Diana was curious about that earthenware pot you made for me when she saw it in the kitchen,” Taylor said, absently running her hand up your chest as her eyes ran over your face, her pinky and ring finger pressing gently into the soft flesh of your left breast. “She asked if you were selling any more like it.”

When you and Taylor were first seeing each other, she invited you over for dinner once and you found out that she was an incredible cook. She’s always had the passion for cooking, she told you, but her busy schedule never made much room for shopping for gourmet ingredients, much less the time it took to cook intricate dishes just for one. 

From that, you learned two things: Taylor was an amazing fucking cook, and secondly, that she had a big heart, seeing little purpose in cooking so beautifully if she seldom had anyone to share her food with.

“I noticed that she kind of kept looking over at me,” you said, absently rubbing Taylor’s thigh with the palm of your hand. “I think she wanted to have a conversation so I kept moving around so she’d have to keep talking her way through different people to get to me.”

“She’s such a bitch,” Taylor huffed in irritation, tucking her hand under your shirt and rubbing the pads of her fingers against your stomach. “I tell her it’s not for sale and she has to go and talk to you like she didn’t believe me.”

You laughed with your head tipped back slightly and Taylor’s frown relaxed. She liked that you didn’t take her socialisation and professional life as seriously as she did. 

“What did you tell her after she asked if it was for sale?” you asked. 

“I told her you made it specially for me the night you invited me over for dinner to ask me to be your girlfriend.” Taylor grinned and hugged you close with her arm still around your shoulders, recalling the beloved memory. 

You had shown Taylor the pot after you had dinner together. But you hadn’t even wrapped it in a bow or anything, so Taylor didn’t know it was a gift until you told her, and she didn’t know you had made the whole damn thing until you told her that too.

It just looked so perfect and beautiful. She hadn’t ever been given a gift like that before, let alone any made for her because someone thought she was an amazing cook. 

“That still didn’t shoo her off of wanting me to make her one, huh?” you said, an arm wrapping securely around Taylor’s waist to ensure she didn’t slip as she adjusted herself on your lap. 

“So glad my girlfriend hates socialising with any other living breathing human being besides me,” she teased, batting her eyelashes at you. 

Taylor stood from your lap and reached down to lift your leg up, guiding you backwards onto the bed.

“Not true,” you defended. 

“Yeah? Name one other person but me who isn’t your immediate family that you’d genuinely love to have a conversation lasting over an hour with — in, like, some empty padded room.” She climbed onto the bed on all fours, advancing on top of you, but not before pulling the waistband of your pyjama pants down and nipping at your hip playfully. 

You started playing with some of her sprawled out hair where your fingertips could reach as you laid beneath her while she slowly ascended your body like a snake, tugging your shirt upwards and kissing and biting gently at your stomach. “I really like that woman at the bakery just outside of Joshua Tree.”

Taylor breathed out sharply through her nose as if to laugh dryly, and you felt it just between your ribcage. “The one that always gives you an extra cheese danish when you go, but hardly even talks to me when I go?”

“Yeah, her.”

“That’s really sweet — the only other person you can tolerate socially is someone who hates me.” She secured your hips between her knees and hovered over your face with an elbow by your head, an impish smile on her lips. 

She leaned down and nipped at the tip of your nose. “Wrong answer,” she said. 

“What was the right answer?” you implored, moving your hands up her smooth thighs, tucking them beneath her slip before moving up further and resting your hands on her hips. 

“You shouldn’t have disagreed with me in the first place,” she teased, the prettiest grin spreading across her face, bare of makeup.

She sighed superficially as if disappointed and lifted herself up to sit between your hips, below your lower stomach. She ran her hands up your clothed stomach and chest as if pondering something absently. 

With her bottom lip stuck out a little in a pout, she said, “And I was really in the mood to make you feel good tonight, baby; I thought you just look so cute with your hair up.”

“I guess we’ll both have to go to bed unsatisfied.”

Taylor laughed and moved her hand up your chest, the tips of her fingers very nearly brushing against your nipple beneath your shirt and sending a dull wave of unsatiated desire through your body; she always knew which buttons to press. 

“Who’s both?” she asked. 

She leaned down so she was hovering above you again and you expected her to say something, so you watched her lips. They parted and your eyes flickered up to hers, watching as they fluttered shut. 

You quickly looked down between your hips and saw Taylor tucking her hand beneath her pink satin slip.

When you looked back up, her lips were pulled back into a slight grin as she watched your cheeks flush and your eyes dart around. She started to slowly roll her hips forward so she could use your body to push the back of her hand against.

You tried to interrupt her and wiggle out from underneath her — you wanted to be able to touch her too. “Tay-”

“Don’t move,” she all but whimpered from beyond clenched teeth. “You’ll ruin it, and I won’t be able to get off.”

There was no way she was as turned on as she was making it seem, and she knew you knew that too; she was teasing you, and letting you know she wasn’t going to let you touch her at all. 

She tucked her hand beneath your head and lifted you while your elbow moved back so you could sit yourself up. Her hand, now cradling the back of your head, led your lips to her neck, and Taylor sighed when you began kissing down the smooth, warm expanse of her skin. Her hand began to pick up speed, her wrist moving quickly against your lower stomach.

“I love you, Taylor,” you murmured against her throat.

You felt the vibrations of her satisfied hum against your lips. “I love…” she sighed out, then slid her hand around your head to take hold of the lower half of your face, pulling you away from her neck to meet your eyes, “having your mouth on my cunt.”

Taylor liked to push you as far as she could; when you were horny, she could get away with any amount of teasing as long as it brought you closer to being able to please her.

“Beg to eat me out.”

“Please.” You immediately begged. “Please,” you repeated, and moved yourself up onto both elbows. “I wanna make you feel good, Taylor. Please let me eat you out. Please, I wanna make you come. I wanna taste you.”

Her hand slid out from between your bodies and she parted your lips, sliding her thumb into your mouth and pushing your lower jaw down to open your mouth. Then she slid two fingers in, rather pleased to watch as your lips immediately wrapped around her. 

You circled your tongue around her fingers, sucking with your lips as you swallowed.

“Do you like that?” she asked, looking down at you, her wavy blonde hair slipping from behind her ears and brushing against your cheeks.

When you nodded, she asked, “Is that all you wanted? Shall we go to bed now?”

“No,” you immediately protested, her fingers still in your mouth.

Green eyes dissected your expression with unparalleled focus, drinking in how you looked so desperate and flushed and overwhelmed. 

But it always made you feel so warm when Taylor’s eyes ran over your face in the tender way that only she could do, even when she was trying to only tease; her eyes would run over the trembling of your soft lips and over your delicate eyelids, how your tongue peeked over your bottom teeth and how your eyes darted side to side to capture both of her own. 

She removed her fingers from your mouth and kissed you, her fingers dipping into your hair to cup your cheek and rub the pads of her fingers into the side of your head softly.

The both of you moved and she parted from your lips so your head rested on your pillows and Taylor could hold onto the headboard for balance. She repositioned herself on top of you. 

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” she asked, looking down at you as both her knees laid beside your head. 

You kissed her inner thighs and ran the palm of your hands up the back of her legs before groping her ass. “Thank you,” you told her sincerely. 

She smiled, satisfied, and pulled her panties to the side, revealing her wet cunt.

You nearly started crying real tears when she lowered herself down onto your face, your tongue parting her pussy and your lips immediately wrapping around her. Her flavour spread through your mouth and your hands moved up to take hold of her hips and bring her weight further down onto you. 

She let out a long, relieved groan as if she had been waiting for you to eat her out for as long as you had been, though she had made you beg for so long. 

Her hips rolled forward and back in a gentle swaying rhythm, letting your tongue explore her, delve through her soft folds, in and out of her opening, tasting how she felt just and only ever for you. 

Taylor was careful not to move so much lest she become unaware of each and every way your tongue moved against her, for she wanted to feel every inch of how you worshipped and loved her, tasting her slowly with a hunger only she could satiate.

In the meantime your hands explored her body, your thumbs running up her obliques and with a flat palm, how her stomach rose and fell with each of her quickened breaths. She took hold of your wrist and moved it up to her breast, her moan enthusiastic and prolonged when you pinched her nipple between two fingers.

You could feel her begin to pick up speed, and your other hand supported her hips, groping the side of her ass securely. She took hold of the headboard with one hand on your head, encouraging you, petting you. 

“Make me come, Y/N,” she told you, and you pleased her in the way you knew she loved, in the way you held back when you knew all she wanted at first was just to feel you love her slowly and without any intention of bringing her to orgasm just yet.

For some years when Taylor was younger, she did ballet.

You knew nothing about ballet or any form of dancing, but you sometimes thought you could see traces of her time as a ballerina in Taylor’s everyday life. For example, she had great posture, and you always thought she moved so elegantly. Her steps were extraordinarily light, and sometimes she snuck up on you when she entered a room.

When Taylor came above you, you always watched with rapt attention the way her back arched, the way her gracefully-moving hips came to a staggered halt, twitching as she released above you. She threw her head back and groaned, the angle of her jaw trailing down smooth and sharp to the corner of her earlobe, exposing the expanse of her pale neck and the shadowed contours of her throat and clavicle.

When Taylor reached her orgasm, she looked like how she did all the time — beautiful, and like she had been rehearsing for audiences the way her eyes squeezed shut and how her pink lips parted, and the way she moaned and called your name and squeezed her thighs securely around your head. 

A trembling thigh lifted and released you from beneath her so she could sit herself down beside your shoulder, laying her head back against the headboard and catching her breath for a moment.

You turned and wrapped your arm around her thighs, kissing the side of her hip. She laid a hand on your head and brushed your hair out of your face.

After a moment, Taylor leaned down and whispered into your ear, “Close your eyes.” She pressed a kiss between your eyebrows and you felt her slip off of the bed, and you listened as she walked a few metres away.

A few moments later, you felt the bed dipping by your ankles and, though tempted, you kept your eyes shut until Taylor climbed atop of you again so her face was at the same level as yours.

“Open your eyes,” she said, then pressed her hips forward against yours to rub her solid length against your upper thigh.

Before you had time to react, Taylor met your lips with hers, kissing you with fervour as she began to pull your shorts and underwear down. You squirmed beneath her, adjusting your legs and hips as much as possible so she could remove your clothes without disconnecting from your lips. 

She rubbed her strap against your cunt, and you heard her make a satisfied noise when she felt how slick and ready you were against the transparent blue silicone. 

Your hips bucked upwards and Taylor immediately pressed a hand down onto your left hip and forced your ass flat back down onto the back.

She lifted your shirt above your head and you watched as your chest was covered in her long wavy blonde hair. Your nipples hardened when her hair brushed against your breasts.

Taylor massaged one of your breasts with her palm, the other running up and down your side soothingly as she sucked at your hardened nipple. She switched breasts and you wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her securely against your body and feeling the comfort of her weight against you. 

She reached down and began rubbing the length of her strap against your cunt, moaning into your mouth then parting from your lips so you could watch her expression twist into that of desire as she bit her bottom lip and looked down at you scrutinizingly. 

Cracking under her pressure, you squeezed her around the waist and forced your hips upwards, pleading, “Taylor, please, I can’t wait. I want–”

“Watch your tone with me,” she reprimanded, pressing the heel of her hand against your hip harsher and forcing your hips back down. “It’s a privilege to be touched by me.”

You nodded in agreement, shutting your mouth and meeting her eyes obediently.

“Repeat it,” she told you.

Without even a beat of hesitation, you repeated, “It’s a privilege to be touched by you.”

“That’s right, Y/N,” she cooed. “You only get to feel good when I have enough time to entertain you. Your pleasure will never come before mine.”

Her stare softened at your obedient nod and your focused stare as you hung onto her every word. “Turn around,” she then said. “You know how cute I think you sound when you have your face pressed into the pillows.”

She lifted herself from you momentarily to allow you space to turn onto your stomach, and you were soon cocooned by Taylor’s body from behind.

Brushing your hair from your shoulder so she could whisper against the side of your head, Taylor’s lips pressed against your ear as her cock prodded at your opening. “You’ve been such a good girl,” she said before taking hold of your hips with both hands and pulling your ass up against her. 

You arched your back and allowed her to pull you onto her cock slowly, and Taylor continued speaking by your ear as she entered you slowly. “You’re so tight,” she said. 

There was a certain way Taylor liked to fuck you, and she knew you loved it. She was purposeful and delicate as her hips pulled back and thrusted forward, but right around when your cunt had taken about half of her strap, she’d buck her hips forward sharply and enter you with a firm impact so her hips slapped against your ass. She timed it perfectly each time, treating you delicately as she moved in and out of you then meeting your ass with a snap of her hips.

She was filled with so much satisfaction, her ego reaching heights as she listened to your soft whimpers and whines while you gripped onto the sheets and begged for her; you weren’t specific when you asked for more, but Taylor knew that, mostly, you were just asking for her. 

“I think you’re so cute when you act all shy,” she said through her soft pants. “I think you’re so gentle and soft-spoken, blushing when you get complimented by strangers, stuttering when you speak.” 

She took a handful of your ass and groped your breast with her other hand, tugging sharply at your nipple. “It makes me so wet when you’re like that. You always act so shy — even when you’re taking my cock six inches into your tight cunt.”

She released your breast and wrapped a hand around your neck, arching you up and allowing her to bite down on your neck, trailing soon-to-be dark bruises up to just below your jawline. 

Soft moans and whimpers muffled by her hand wrapped around your neck only urged Taylor to fuck you harder. She fucked you with more effort, groaning breathily into your ear. Her other hand wrapped around your hip and she lifted your ass up, letting go of your neck to slide a pillow under your hips.

Taylor lifted herself onto her knees and placed both hands on your hips, pulling your ass back against her in time with when she thrusted forward, her hips meeting your ass with a sharp slap each time.

From across the room to the left of the bed by the bedroom door, her attention was caught by the mirror. She reached down and took a handful of your hair gently, turning your head and making you face the mirror. 

She watched as your eyes met hers through your reflection and she felt herself grin watching how at her mercy you were, bent over and arched with your face pressed against the pillows and your hair in her tightened hand. 

“Don’t I look good fucking you, baby?” she panted, grinning down at you, her other hand gripping at your waist and pulling you back against her. 

“You look beautiful, Taylor,” you conceded adoringly. 

“Look at how beautiful we look together. You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.” She leaned down so her body cocooned your back and she buried her face in your hair, both hands now grasping at your ass and hips harshly. 

Taylor’s body meshed in perfect sync with yours, her long wavy hair spilling down her smooth back, her skin glistening with sweat, the black harness fastened around her hips. She reached her arm around and met your clit with her fingers, massaging against you in circles while she kissed your back. 

“I love you, Y/N,” she said against your shoulder. “Come for me.”

You were the sweetest thing when you came, all whimpers and cries for her, always reaching for her to feel her close to you. She let go of your left hip and interlaced her hand with yours.

Taylor kissed your neck softly, listening closely as your breath caught in your throat then released. She slowed her thrusts and stopped playing with your clit, her other hand moving to rub up and down your side soothingly. 

You started catching your breath and Taylor moved her lips further up to kiss beneath your jaw where it was warmest. 

“I love you,” Taylor murmured. 

“I love you too,” you replied tiredly with a long, satisfied exhale. 

She helped you put your shirt back on because you were tired, then slid your underwear back on too and kissed her way up your thighs. She unfastened her harness then quickly brushed her hair in the mirror again before joining you back in bed. She turned the nightstand lamp off and got under the sheets with you. 

With your eyes closed and your body facing Taylor’s, she watched you silently as you dozed with her arm tucked under her head. 

Taylor was aware how shallow and, frankly, aimless much of her life was. She was successful in her career and successful amongst her peers — but all of it, for what? It wasn’t enough for her to do what she did without anything real. 

You were the ground under her feet and the most special thing in her life — you made her life real, and you made her special.

Even in college she always knew at the back of her mind that she didn’t have what other people had; everyone else had supportive families and friends they’d known since high school and partners who loved them.

Taylor grew up with parents who were just as arrogant and abusive as they were rich, and a brother who grew up to be just like them. She didn’t quite know what to do when she knew that she wasn’t interested in the people she was friends with because it wasn’t ever like she had anyone else to talk with. 

People who weren’t like the friends she didn’t care about weren’t interested in talking with someone like her. 

When she moved to Los Angeles after graduation, she wanted to make new friends. She was going into entrepreneurship — however the fuck anyone defined that — but she had enough money to make mistakes and start something new. 

In spite of that, she ended up in the exact same place as she was all of college — with people she wished she could grow out of and doing shit she couldn’t see herself doing forever. 

Frankly, Taylor thought she was fucked up.

Maybe it was in her genes. 

Nicky turned out just like their parents, after all, and maybe there was only just so far that she could make it on her own without giving up and resorting to living off of her parents’ money with no ambition and no plans for anything real. 

But then she met you, and she wanted you like she’s never wanted anything else. 

You were so creative and sensitive and smart, and it didn’t seem like you hated her. She took her time with you and tried not to scare you away, but no amount of careful effort could change the way she was. 

But if there was any fateful reason she ended up in Los Angeles, it was for you.

When you told Taylor you were interested in her, you gave her the only real and special thing she’s ever looked forward to in her life. 

Everything she did only ever made sense because of you. After meeting you, it just seemed like everything made sense for the very first time. 

The only real things in her life all revolved around you — a shared home, a lover, a best friend, a future, a real life with someone who really loved her and put her before anything else.

Plus, if you really loved her as much as you always said, then maybe she wasn’t as fucked up as she thought she was. Even she started to make sense.

“Don’t ever leave me,” she whispered to you, then smiled as she watched you continue to sleep peacefully.

You looked the most beautiful when you didn’t know she was watching.

[klauw22]

little lore/fic/x reader stuff under cut bcs im insane abt mummy vencha,,,

Sloane Cameron, once a young devotee to the kings and queens of the land has been chosen to be sealed alive in the royal temple in order to guard the graves and riches of the dead. Unbeknownst to them, the scripture painted onto their limbs and back were not for protection or luck in the afterlife like they've been told, but rather curses and spells binding their soul onto the thin thread which laid between the two realms, dividing the living from the dead. That is where their soul was now bound to wander until eternity, losing their grip on mortality yet unable to pass on like the rest.

With time their flesh rotted away leaving nothing but a husk of sand and bones. Before sealing, their sight was blinded as they weren't worthy of looking onto the royals that rested within these tombs, not even in death, and to ensure that Sloane wouldn't try to escape.

For centuries the guardian remained asleep in their designated chamber. That was until now. Until you and your crew of explorers too curious for your own good uncovered the entrance to the temple, awakening the guardian from their peaceful slumber in the process.

The guardian now awake had one goal in mind.

With a torch in hand you scanned the golden walls upon entering, lightly tracing your fingers along the carved paintings. Sand and dust coating your fingertips. For a moment you swore you could feel another presence there with you. Another pair of eyes watching, lingering on you while your crew stayed behind. The room suddenly felt cooler, as if a draft of cold air passed through you making a shiver run up your spine. This spooked you even further but you were determined to continue onward.

Its probably just my imagination you tried to comfort yourself as you stepped deeper.

[hihomeghere]

[gravity-barbie]

There's only one bed HCs

Featuring: Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Viktor, Lila, Sparrow!Ben & Sloane

A/N: This isn’t a request, I just had to post the fluffiest prompt I could after s4. Also, the umbrella’s characterisation in this is very s1 inspired.

Masterlist

Luther Hargreeves

-Luther is immediately very flustered, you’d think he just stumbled out of the middle ages with how concerned about propriety he is in this situation, and he can barely form a coherent sentence

-He offers to take the floor, but if you do the same and/or insist on sharing he’ll quickly compromise on the latter if for no other reason than not wanting to disagree with you, but that decision has his heart racing a mile a minute

-He feels very self-conscious about taking up most of the bed, so any reassurance from you that you’re comfortable, or better yet, like his closeness absolutely melts him

-He stays half awake all night, too afraid of doing something embarrassing in his sleep to get any proper rest, but his contentment to just enjoy your nearness still makes it one of the best nights of his life

-Since he was already awake (and he’s a total sweetheart) he gets up early to scavenge you two up a breakfast in the morning, enjoying this slice of domesticity with you a little longer

Diego Hargreeves

-Diego says he’ll take the floor, but if you even slightly question that choice he gets embarrassed and defensive, suggesting you two share the bed just to prove that he ‘doesn’t care’

-Obviously he does care, outwardly he keeps his cool, but on the inside he’s swarming with butterflies like he’s a teenager

-As much as he tries to appear aloof, he’s actually being so considerate, checking if you’re comfortable more than once and making sure he isn’t touching you at all

-He’s not the easiest sleeper, tense and alert, and at first lying next to his crush doesn’t exactly help, but as the two of you talk and banter a little, the tension starts to defuse and he actually finds your presence very soothing

-He’s the type to get cuddly in his sleep, much to his shame and annoyance in the morning, he doesn’t let himself enjoy the amazing feeling of holding you in his arms for even a full minute before he’s scrambling back to his side of the bed and pretending to be asleep

Allison Hargreeves

-Allison can be a grown up about this, there’s only one bed, why wouldn’t you share it? She’s not indifferent but she doesn’t overanalyse the situation either

-She gladly embraces the domesticity of the scenario though, drawing out her nightly routine, and getting chattier than usual, trying to savor this experience that she’s wanted for so long

-She’s also trying to make sure you feel at ease too, figuring if you do feel awkward, that’ll fade as the two of you talk and unwind

-She is prone to nightmares, so don’t be surprised if you’re startled awake in the middle of the night and put in the unenviable position of trying to ease her, but she for one is very glad that it’s you she wakes up to

-Speaking of waking up, sunrise is the peak of this experience for her, feeling yours and her tangled limbs, seeing how peaceful you look while you sleep, it's the kind of moment she understands the importance of cherishing

Klaus Hargreeves

-Klaus suggests sharing, he’s slept under way more awkward circumstances next to people he’s felt way more uncomfortable around, it’s really no big deal

-He has to remind himself to keep his thoughts PG a couple of times and can’t get through the night without making at least one innuendo but overall he is respectful and won't likely make you uncomfortable

-Though he can keep his thoughts clean it's harder to keep them platonic, the longing he feels being so close to you is nearly overwhelming and he wishes so badly that the context was different

-With you by his side he sleeps more peacefully than he has in… ever, it actually kind of amazes him

-He's in no rush to leave your side in the morning, the sleep clouding his brain making him all too willing to forget his reservations and cuddle up to you for as long as you'll have him

Viktor Hargreeves

-Ever the gentleman, Viktor immediately offers to take the floor, but he feels quite heart-warmed by you insisting on sharing

-Even platonically the intimacy of sharing a bed means so much to someone as affectionate starved as him, but with the added context of you being his crush this experience feels like a mini miracle

-He's pretty nervous though, triple checking that you're okay with this and minimizing his own space as much as possible when he gets into bed

-He relaxes with some reassurance and the two of you quickly get comfortable, starting up a random conversation that's meant to segway into sleep but could keep you talking all night if you're not careful

-As opposed to the anxious start to the night, waking up next to each other feels like the most natural thing in the world

Lila Pitts

-Lila's thrilled, she doesn’t immediately suggest sharing but she makes it clear she’s not sleeping on the floor and is all too happy to accommodate you if you won't either

-If you do try to give her the bed and take the floor though she stops playing coy and basically tells you to grow up and share with her, insisting it’s no big deal

-But to her it is a big deal, honestly she can't believe she didn't plan this herself it's that perfect, she can barely fight back an unending smile

-Though keeping things sfw she does lay the flirting on thicker than usual and pays close attention to how you react to that and the situation you're in throughout the night

-As bold as she is she isn't actually used to this kind of closeness and the intimacy of sleeping next to her crush does start making her slightly nervous, but luckily your presence has a way of making her feel better

Ben Hargreeves

-Ben’s not exactly a go with the flow type, if you’re put in a position where there’s meant to be two beds and there’s only one, he’s gonna try to get his other bed

-Ands it’s only after all his demands fall on deaf ears that he even registers the implications of sharing the one, nervousness quickly sets in but he tries not to show it, avoiding looking at you and giving his usual sass

-He does offer you the bed, sounding more begrudging than he actually is, it’s actually his preferred solution, cause as spoiled as he acts he could never sleep comfortably at your expense

-But of course you insist on sharing and as soon as he’s laying next to you, he confirms what a bad idea this was, he’s just as flustered as he feared he would be, maybe more so

-He pretends to fall asleep as soon as possible so you won’t catch on to how he’s feeling, but actually he’s awake and on edge for hours

Sloane Hargreeves

-Sloane has encountered this scenario in more than one romance novel before, so her brain just goes wild with the possibilities

-You’re the one to suggest sharing the bed, and it absolutely melts her heart, it's sweet and it's a relief to know you're comfortable being this close to her

-She always has a hard time hiding her crush on you, but she’s never been so flustered before, the butterflies in her stomach verge on painful

-But she's also giddy and her contagious enthusiasm guarantees the two of you will have a good night, your energy is half 'slumber party' and half 'married couple's nightly routine'

-The experience is wonderful for not just Sloane but you as well, because even if you didn't have a crush on her before, spending a night with her surely makes you realize you want to spend many more with her

[lovedrruunk]

WE ARE SO BACK!!!

Blushy Sloan :3

the day u guys get a finished drawing is the day i quit tumblr forever

I was actually so close to finishing this one I cleaned it up and everything but alas…

[kruegerslov3r]

SAM'S LAUGH !!!! my face is about to crack from smiling >.<

[springtyme]

hey babes 💖 congrats on the 2k! you deserve it, i'm literally obsessed with your writing! 🥂 can i request a drabble and moodboard for older hubby price? thank youu <33

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 ♡

Thank you so much, hun! ♡ I hope you like this, it was so enjoyable to make! (like, boy oh boy, what I wouldn't do to have this man be my hubby)

Main Masterlist || John Price Playlist || 141 Masterlist

You can’t help but smile back at your reflection as you stand in front of the full body mirror of your bedroom, applying your lipstick, your favourite little black dress hugging your curves as you gently sways to the smooth, melodic voice of Ella Fitzgerald coming from the speaker on your nightstand. 

You’re just so excited for tonight, the first date night you and John have had in months as he has been away at base. You are so engrossed in the music and the happy anticipation bubbling inside your chest that you don’t even notice as John steps into the room at first, but as the rich scent of his cologne fills the air you catch his gaze in the mirror. He truly is a sight for sore eyes as he stands there, leaning against the door frame as he buttons up his dress shirt, a smile playing at the corner of his lips, the most kissable lips you’ve ever known. 

He watches you for a moment, his blue eyes sparkling with adoration as he takes in the sight of you, before stepping further into the room, walking up behind you with determined steps and wrapping his arms around your waist.  “God, you’re stunning,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. The gentle touch of his lips sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You’re looking pretty handsome yourself,” you reply, turning around in his arms to face him with a smile. His eyes soften as he looks at you, his hand reaching up to adjust your necklace. His fingers trail along your exposed skin, sending goosebumps in their wake as he fingers the pendant hanging from your neck. You can feel the intensity of his gaze as he continues to look at you, his love for you shining through. 

“You’re flattering me, darling,” John says, his voice filled with warmth. “But really, I can’t take my eyes off of you. You take my breath away every time.”

You feel your heart swell with love for this man, this man who never fails to make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. You reach up to cup his cheek, running your thumb along his jawline as you look into his eyes, the stubbles of his beard gently scratching against your soft fingertips. “You always know what to say to make a girl feel special,” you say with a soft giggle.

“It’s easy when all I have to say is the truth,” he replies, leaning in to capture your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known, inside and out,” he whispers so softly against your lips. 

You melt into the kiss, feeling the love and passion between you two like a warm blanket wrapping around you on a cold winter night. As you finally pull away, you can’t help but smile at the crimson of your lipstick that’s now staining the corner of his mouth. With a giggle, you reach up and gently wipe away the trace of your crime. But before you can finish, John takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips, planting a soft kiss at the delicate skin of your pulse point before bringing his lips to the golden band of your wedding ring, pressing a soft kiss to the line of diamonds that is encircling your ring finger.

“And I love you so much,” he murmurs against your skin, his eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration. 

You feel a rush of warmth in your chest, your heart swelling with happiness at his words. “I love you too John, more than words can express,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve missed you so much.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. “I’ve missed you too, love,” he murmurs, his voice filled with longing. “But I’m home now, and I’m gonna stay here for a while, I promise.”

You smile against his chest, feeling content and at peace in his arms. The world outside disappears as you revel in the warmth of his embrace, the love that surrounds you both like a cocoon. And as Ella Fitzgerald’s voice continues to serenade you from the speakers you melt into each other, swaying gently to the music, lost in the moment and in each other.