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acourtofwhatthefuck · 10 months

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Practice On Me — Part Fourteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is readying herself for the ball. Hot Daddy Fin™️ opens up to her a little and shares some worrying truths (and then some). Azriel and Reader reunite, body and soul.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Adult content, 18+, NSFW, minors dni.

Tried my best with this part but sorry if it's a bit iffy! This girlie is ill as FUCK. Still hope you enjoy, tho, loves!

“You know, I have to admit, I was dubious at first.”

Mor is knelt at your feet, and you think this might be the closest you ever come to having a goddess on her knees before you. A strange part of you wants her to snap out and sink her teeth into your thigh, leave a bright red mark on the skin — but alas, her attention is fully on the hem of your gown.

“My uncle, love him though I do, is a calculated bastard.” She pushes to her feet, straightening out the fabric. “But I think he actually enjoys your company.”

“He does.” Roza pitches in from her place on the couch. “I know Fin. Y/N has him eating out of the palm of her hand.”

Though she smiles, her tone is laced with clear concern. Not because she cares about Fin, but because she cares about you. Doesn’t want you to forget that this is the High Lord of the Night Court you’re meddling with.

“Males are vapid and predictable, every last one of them.” You shrug your tense shoulders. “Throw them a few pretty smiles and they’ll do anything for you.”

Mor steps back, a low whistle leaving her. “Forget the males. I’ll do anything for you.”

Her eyes rake over your gown. So do Roza’s. And you…you want to crawl out of your skin and hide.

You’ve never owned a beautiful gown like this, never been able to afford one. The couple of dresses you do keep amongst your clothes are plain ones that just about do for special occasions. What hangs off your body now is…a work of art.

Almost feels like sacrilege for the beautiful fabric to touch your marred skin.

It’s sheer, showing off more than you’ve ever before dared to, and yet there’s a modesty, an elegance, to the many whorls and swirls made up entirely of little blue jewels and pearls and beads. It gives the gown a weight that makes it cling to you, and it outlines a body that…that quite frankly, you’d never considered beautiful until this very moment.

A body that commands the garment, and not the other way round. That makes you feel like far more than just another mistreated, unfavoured Illyrian female that will one day be lost to history.

This gown makes you think: I do not need the wings I have spent my life longing for.

It makes you think: There is nothing more beautiful than a good spirit and soul, and I have both.

It makes you think: Never again will anyone — friend or family or foe — make you feel less than worthy. Less than deserving. Less than strong.

You have always had strength. And this dress somehow amplifies it. Will amplify it to a room full of people who will see, through that sheer fabric, your scars, your lack of wings, and they may pity you, or not pity you at all, or may even laugh.

But you will still be beautiful.

Movement has you realising that tears have blurred your eyes. You swipe them away, and Mor is smiling at you, and Roza looks like she’s a little choked up, too.

“You are so godsdamned gorgeous.” Mor says earnestly. “Every last inch of you.”

Indeed, you glance over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, your gaze immediately finding your scars sitting brutal and undeniable beneath the sheer fabric. You don’t hurriedly force your gaze away like you have done your whole life, don’t try to avoid them.

You just…look. Look at what has been a part of you for so long, now.

“…Mor?” Roza says quietly. “Can you…give Y/N and I a moment?”

“Of course.” Mor agrees. “Time for me to find a snack.”

The stunning blonde squeezes your hand as she strolls past, and as she leaves the room, the door is pulled shut behind her.

Roza rises from her seat, making her way over to you. And as she stops before you, her hands move up to cup your face.

“Did you know,” she murmurs, “that I’ve always thought you were one of the prettiest females in all of Windhaven?” A soft scoff leaves you, but before you can glance down, she’s holding your face firmly. “I mean that — even when Azriel brought you to the cottage that very first time, and you were covered in dirt and mud, your hair all knotted, a leaf or two in there — you thanked me for feeding you, and you gave me a smile that was just like…sunshine. Such a rare thing in Windhaven. I remember thinking, this girl deserves to smile like that, always.”

A single tear spills down your cheek, and Roza wipes it away. She definitely looks like she might start bawling, too — a rare thing for her.

“I know you were never given much of a chance to feel worthy.” She whispers. “Your mother abandoning you…your father taking your wings…they were the two people who were supposed to love you more than anyone, and they broke you and left you broken.”

“You put me back together.” A lump in your throat fractures your words. “You and Rhys and Azriel and Cassian. Your love—”

“My little dove, you put yourself back together. We just loved you through it. I just want you to know that…I just want you to remember, the next time you feel worthless, that you are beautiful, and you have always been beautiful. You’re strong, and spirited, and determined. You have a resolve like no other I have ever seen, and you can do anything — which is why I know you will achieve whatever it is you’re planning with Fin.”

Only then does your gaze drop. “I only wish to appeal myself to him enough that he’ll value my opinion — that this Fenlaros business cannot go ahead. But I still feel awful…he’s your mate.”

“Gods, in the loosest definition, Y/N.” Her hands move to yours, then, liking them together. “Believe me when I say that if it weren’t for my children, I’d never see that male again. I think you know that I do not hold him in high regard.”

“I do know. But I respect you and care about you more than anyone in the world. And if you feel even a shred of discomfort about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. I’ll find another way—”

“The only discomfort I feel,” she squeezes your hands gently, “is at the thought of any harm coming to you. But I’ll feel that way through everything you do in life, because I love you. I also feel awe, because you’re brave and brilliant, and you’re doing what’s right. What I will teach this little girl,” she places your hands on her swollen belly, “to do — to stand up against what is wrong, and do so without a lick of shame.”

“I’ll protect her with my life, you know — the babe. I’ll love her unconditionally.”

“And she will love you, my dove, just as I do. So,” she steps back, eyes your dress again. A smile curves her lips. “Do whatever it is you have to do, Y/N, to change Fin’s mind — you have my full support. I only ask three things of you.”

Your expression softens. Anything — you’d do anything for her. “Of course, Roz.”

“First, don’t get caught with your scheming.” She says. “And second — you may feel like murdering Fin. Gods, believe me, I get it. But please do refrain. He’s my children’s father, after all, and Rhys isn’t ready to be High Lord just yet.”

You breathe a laugh, dipping your chin. “No murder. Got it. And the third thing?”

Roza steps up to you, her fingers finding the beautiful, jewelled material that clings to you like a second skin. She smiles.

“Go to that ball,” her fierce eyes meet yours, “and show everybody there that your father didn’t take one bit of beauty away from you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You pace the length of your room. Back and forth, back and forth. You’re restless tonight.

Day after day is swept behind you like the snow that blankets the mountains. Time is a racing thing. Starfall is fast approaching, and thus, so is the ball. But you still feel as though you can’t get a good read on Fin’s thoughts.

No matter how many dinners you share with him, how many walks through the city streets you take together, the shows you watch in the Rainbow…he does not offer you the candidness with which he spoke through that very first conversation in his study. Any attempts to talk about Tathaln, about Fenlaros, are promptly diverted. He wants to talk about you — wants to know you.

It feels like the opportunity to stop this shit show in its tracks is slipping through your fingers, and you can’t grab hold of it, pull it back.

So instead of sleeping, you think, and you pace, and you—

Gods, you just want to see Azriel.

How much space, you wonder, is enough space? You have respected his needs, have kept to Velaris, given him time to confront his innermost thoughts and feelings. But you don’t know how long he needs, and right now…right now, all you want is to see him. Look into his eyes. Hear that soft, quiet voice telling you that everything will be okay.

You need to know if he’s made a decision about Fenlaros. You’ve tried not to think about it, not to dwell on the possibility that he could choose to run from his feelings over embracing them. But the longer the silence stretches on…the more you find that hole in your heart gaping, threatening to swallow you whole.

You pace more and more, up and down in time to the ticking of the clock. It’s a wonder you haven’t worn a track through the carpet. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so antsy, but perhaps if you could just talk to Az, some of your worries could be allayed—

Before your thoughts can catch up with your body, you’re tearing through the drawers in the desk, scrambling for paper, a pen. Practically throw yourself into the chair. A letter — a letter will do the trick—

But you don’t know what to write.

You stare at the blank parchment like the words will simply appear by your willing. They don’t.

A love letter? No, no, not a love letter. Just a letter to…to remind him that you are still here. That you are reason to stay in Windhaven, and you think you could be reason enough.

Azriel… you picture him as you crawl his name. His honey-golden eyes and his silken hair. The sharp bone structure that could slice through paper, the full lips. The memory of how those lips feel is fading, and you want — need — it back. Your pen pauses, hovers at the parchment, and those lips are all you can think of, the urgency with which you crave them.

Azriel, you write again, I want to see you. I need you, too—

A soft knock lands on the door, and the pen clatters against the desk where you drop it.

The clock has just timed three in the morning — the knock is an unexpected obtrusion in the dead of night. One that makes you anxious.

But a second knock comes, and you shove the parchment and pen back into the drawer, scrambling to your feet. Perhaps it’s Roza — the more the pregnancy progresses, it’s not unusual for her to wake up in the night with need for something. You hurry over and tug it open.

Fin stands on the other side, looking…unkempt. His hair is mussed, like he’s been dragging his fingers through it. The first few buttons on his shirt have been undone, and a glimpse of a fine, chiselled chest peeks out. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He looks as though he hasn’t been to bed.

He drinks in the sight of you in your nightgown, bathed in the room’s glow. He swallows. “Forgive me, I…I saw your light on. Thought you might be having trouble sleeping again.”

You incline your head. “I was.” You admit. “…And you?”

“Too much in my head to even attempt it.”

You’re not sure what to reply with, how to help. Fin watches you closely like…like he needs to. Like gazing at you brings him comfort.

You are treading a very, very dangerous path. But you shift on your feet and ask him, “Would you like to come in?”

A tiny nudge of a smile pulls one side of his mouth up. “I was actually wondering if you’d allow me to take you somewhere.”

Your eyes widen a little. The surprise isn’t for show, and it seems to please him. “Right now?”

“The City of Starlight doesn’t sleep. Ever.”

A fact you’ve learned all too well during your stay here. There’s always some sort of activity, something going on that sends a constant pulsing through the city streets. For some reason, you hadn’t imagined Fin to be a participant in the night life.

“It’s somewhere I go when I can’t sleep.” He explains, as though you’ve spoken your thoughts loud and clear. “I think you’d like it. And from one insomniac to another, I…I would be honoured to share it with you.”

How can you possibly say no to that? For all Fin is mysterious, for all he keeps his cards tightly pressed against his chest, you truly believe that he finds a strange sort of solidarity in this one affliction that burdens you both. You may have wildly different reasons for pacing your room at night — and you’re not sure he’ll ever tell you his — but when the world is too quiet and thoughts are too loud…there’s comfort in knowing that somebody else is staring down those early hours, also.

It almost makes him seem…normal.

And perhaps that’s why you offer him a dazzling smile that isn’t entirely disingenuous. “From one insomniac to another,” you say, “I’d love to come with you.

The way his eyes light up makes you wonder if you’ve played your role, appealed yourself to him, a little too well. “Then I’ll wait here while you get dressed.”

You incline your head. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He waits patiently as you change from your nightgown into warm clothes that will shield you from the freezing night air. With no indication of where you might be going, a sweater and breeches and boots seems like the safest bet. You sweep your hair out of your face and shrug the weariness from your bones. When you emerge from the room, Fin’s gaze traces you like you’ve donned an evening gown and not the thickest layers you could fine.

“I find you so very intriguing.” He comments unexpectedly, and you’re not sure what he means.

You plaster a smile on your face, all the same. “Where are we going, Lord of the Night?”

Heat stokes his hickory eyes, and he looks as though he’s actually trying to tamp down on a broad smile. “It’s a surprise.”

You hold a hand out. He takes it. “Then surprise me.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Tilt your head up.” The instruction comes from close behind you. Near enough that a warm breath tickles the back of your neck. You dutifully obey. “Now, open your eyes.”

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, cautiously. What you’re met with has your next breath catching in your throat.

A dome of starlight arcs high above you. The twinkling jewels in the sky feel almost close enough to reach out and touch, and they shine brilliantly through the glass roof, an occasional transient one cartwheeling its way past in pursuit of another place.

You can only stare. Gape. Your feet move forward a couple of steps, but your face remains tilted upwards.

You were in this building only a couple of evenings before, but it had been so packed, then, so filled with music and chatter and laughter and activity, that you hadn’t noticed what sat above your head. You’d been far too enamoured with the performers, their poetic verses and fluid dances, the tragic climax that had brought you to tears.

Now, the largest theatre in Velaris’s rainbow is empty and bathed in darkness, broken only by silvery moonlight. You and Fin are the only two here. And standing on the gargantuan stage, a mass of empty, folded seats staring back at you, you have the perfect view of the night sky that gives a performance all of its own above you.

There are soft footsteps, and Fin is also stepping forward, stopping at your side. “In over nine centuries, I’ve never tired of that sight,”

You shake your head, a little dazed. You’re lost for words. “I can see why.”

“There is so much unexpected, so much chaos and burden, in being High Lord. But no matter what I may face, what choices I make, and what reactions they receive…there will always be the night sky and its stars.”

Only then do you remove your gaze from the domed glass ceiling — to drink him in and wonder how many layers deep his true heart lies. This male who is as cunning and cruel as he is handsome and charming. How many dimensions does he have that you’ve never stopped to consider?

“I know it doesn’t exactly support the imagine of a calculated High Lord who shouldn’t be crossed.” Fin says, staring had at the surface of the stage whilst a wry smile graces his lips. “Sneaking off to an empty theatre in the dead of night when sleep evades me. But I find…peace here.”

You eye the ginormous building around you, dipped in shimmering moonlight and the shadows of twinkling stars. All those empty seats, the vacant orchestra pit, the stage that has trapped so many beautiful voices and words, guided so many dances and echoed so much beautiful music. There’s a haunting loneliness to the desolation. And you can’t help wondering if…if Fin relates to that, somehow.

When you snap out of your thoughts, you find he’s moved again. Now, he sits on the very edge of the stage, legs hanging down and palms bracing him. He stares out at the rows and rows of red velvet seats, not one of them disturbed by a spectator.

You’re moving before you tell yourself to. Sitting at his side and tucking your legs beneath you. You spend a short time in still silence, but the heaviness of the High Lord’s thoughts seems to spread to every corner of the building.

“When you brought me here the other night,” you angle yourself towards him, “it was my first time in a theatre — ever. I never saw a show before.”

A very slight frown pinches Fin’s features. He seems to consider that. “One of my flaws, Y/N, I have to admit, is that I often forget that there’s a world outside of my privilege. That people lack where I never will.” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Roza was right to take Rhysand to Windhaven. He’s grown with a humility that I very much do not have.”

You snort softly. “I spend a lot of time with your son, My Lord. I assure you he’s just as capable of arrogance. I’ve kicked his ass a good few times because of it.”

A quiet laugh rasps from him. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” He pauses, and then his elbow is gently nudging you. “I told you, anyway — it’s Fin. I consider us to be friends. Don’t you?”

In some ways, you really do. Ans what a lying, using, devious little friend you are.

Especially as you scoot closer to him. And you’re softening your features and staring openly at him.

You don’t miss the way his gaze falls to your lips.

“I do.” You say, and he lifts his eyes to yours again. “And as your friend, I’d like to know what weighs so heavily on your mind tonight.”

His mile falters. And you don’t want to lose him, to let the moment slip away from you. You quickly grab his hand before he can tense up.

“I want you to talk to me…” You make your voice soft as butter, sweet as honey. “I like talking to you, Fin.”

There’s a beat. A tense one. And then his body is loosening, relaxing, his eyes becoming infinitely warmer.

His hand wraps around yours, the pad of his thumb tracing your nail. “I like talking to you, too.” He admits, and pauses again. “…War is…a great likelihood, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to go still, then, to tense up. Icy cold surprise bolts through you. That…isn’t what you were expecting.

“War?” You breathe, your mind already conjuring images of your friends on a battlefield. “With whom? When?”

“I do not know when. It could be in a year’s time; it could be in a decade. That all depends on how long it takes for humans to rise up and rally against our kind.”

“Humans?”

“There has been more and more pushback, in recent years, from humans. Humans who are enslaved by our kind and are sick of it. More and more of them are beginning to stand up against it, to protest how they’re forced to live. They’re willing to go to war over it. I don’t know when or where, but they will. In years to come, they will.”

“As they should.” You sit up straight. Perhaps it’s the wrong thing to say, but you don’t care. “They should revolt. I think it’s barbarous, the way our kind treat them. Their purpose is not to serve us. They have just as much right to live freely as we do.”

You mean it, mean it with your whole heart. You know what it’s like to be used for somebody’s personal gain, what it’s like to have freedom always lurking just out of reach. And you’ve heard about the treatment of enslaved humans. Most would rather die that live under the cruelty of their fae masters. That the practice hasn’t been outlawed utterly sickens you.

Fin says nothing for a while. His hand continues to hold yours. His eyes drink you down with a muted intensity. Like this is the first time he’s ever really taken you in.

“I agree.” He murmurs, much to your surprise. “And when war comes — and it will, and I’m preparing for it — when war comes, I will fight alongside the humans. To liberate them.”

You look at him, then — a male who has lived for almost a millennia, but doesn’t look a day over forty. Who is so universally feared, who carries a reputation for things you can’t even bear to consider. You will not fool yourself into believing that the darkness hides an inner light, or that the cruelty is a front. He is not soft and he is not kind.

But perhaps he’s not totally bad, either. That he would put himself in the firing line for the liberation of innocent humans…it has to speak somewhat to his character.

It almost makes you regret your scheming, your manipulating.

Before you can muster a response, the High Lord is leaning closer. Your body tenses as his face stops inches away from yours.

“You need not be afraid of me, Y/N.” He whispers. “I find you…magnificent. I like that you don’t filter yourself in front of me, that you’re not afraid to speak your true thoughts and feelings. You…you are an asset. Worth so much more than you’ve ever been given credit for.”

Your gaze dips, cheeks burning at the compliment. “I don’t know about that—”

“I mean it.” His finger hooks under your chin, soothing the skin there. “Magnificent.” He repeats, and he’s leaning in closer, closer, until his lips are coasting your flushed cheek. The kiss he presses there is cold in contrast, but you have no chance to react as his mouth brushes its way to the shell of your ear and lingers there. “Absolutely brilliant. And do you know what?”

“…What?”

“After the ball is over,” his breath tickles your ear, “I’m going to bring you back here, to this stage. And those stars above our heads will watch as I strip you bare and fuck you hard enough to shake the building.”

It takes every morsel of your resolve not to start at the words. You release a shaky breath — one that makes you seem eager, responsive. It’s convincing enough that you don’t think you’d be out of place up here on this stage.

Thankfully, you don’t have to drag words from your spinning thoughts. Fin lets go, and he pulls back, rising to his feet.

“But until then,” he holds a hand out for you, “there is much to be done. Starting with you and I getting a good night’s sleep.”

You wear a mild smile as you allow him to pull you up. “A girl can dream.”

“And so can a High Lord.”

You don’t say much else to each other as he tugs you close and spirits you back to his palace. You are both pensive, and you are both tired.

But when he bids you goodnight outside your bedroom and strolls off to his own, sleep seems further away than ever. You’re thinking too much at once. Humans. War. Fin. Azriel.

You still desperately want to see Az, talk to him.

You dig back into the drawer, meaning to retrieve the letter you’d started to write.

But your hand merely knocks against wood, and the letter is gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You’re tempted — to write another letter, or note, or…whatever. You don’t even know what became of the first, unfinished one, whether it made its way to Azriel or not.

But days pass, and you…you begin to lose your nerve a little. Perhaps it’s better to live in ignorance for as long as possible than know, either way, what Azriel is thinking. Choosing. Can’t help feeling that the more time pedals on without a word…the worse the outcome will be.

Distractions help. But tonight, it would seem, there are none. And it’s strange, because everything around you is bathed in luxury, in excellence, but you find yourself missing the stripped back simplicity of Windhaven. The crumbling cottages, the mead hall, the rough-and-tumble way of life. There’s always something happening in that harrowing place, something to keep you occupied. As you stare down an evening in a huge, mostly empty palace, you’re actually struck by your longing for it. Both Roza and Fin are busy. Mor is away. Only the mountains and the distant sounds of the city are your companions tonight.

And once again, your thoughts take you to Azriel.

You think maybe this need for him is getting out of hand. And maybe it’s just the sugar-sweet things that Fin has been speaking into your ear, the knowledge that deep down, there’s only one person you want to make such promises to you—

No. It’s not just that. Not just a pathetic influence of suggestive words. It’s a need.

You need Azriel.

Your closest friend. Your safety blanket. The male who saved you and brought you into the fold of a loving, supportive unit. You stared down awkward adolescence together, faced such trying times by each other’s sides.

And you need him.

Your heart, your body, your skin, is hot and heavy with it. Restless. Like the craving is pulling you apart from the inside.

You need to do something, anything, to occupy yourself; take a late-night stroll, read a book. Anything to stop you from staring at the ceiling and being eaten alive by the fire that scorches your veins.

You’re so desperate to get moving that you don’t bother to grab a jacket — just shove your feet into your shoes. A spring mildness has blanketed the city, anyway. You’ll be fine. You just need to move—

But you yank your bedroom door open, and Azriel is on the other side.

His beauty punches you straight in the gut.

He’s a vision, stood there in casual clothing, a note — your note — clutched in his hand. He takes in the sight of you just as hurriedly.

“What are you doing here,” you breathe.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. His eyes rove you again, and he swallows. “I got your note.” He answers. “I wanted to see you, too, and…the High Lord summoned Rhys, Cass and I here…to warn us to be on our best behaviour at the ball.”

You can’t say anything. Can’t speak. You just gawk like a godsdamned fool.

A strange concoction of a frown and a laugh comes from Az. “I…snuck away after…to come here—”

Before you even know what you’re doing, your hand is bunching in the front of Azriel’s shirt, and you’re dragging him into the room with all your strength. He looks bewildered as you shove the door shut behind him.

“Az, have you lost your mind?” You round on him. “If Fin knew you’d come to my room—”

“He isn’t here.” He cuts you off. “Cass went straight back to Windhaven, and Rhys knew I wanted to see you, so…he’s currently having quality family time with Roza and his father in the city.”

There’s a lot to unpack. But all your mind wants to zero in on is that one little sentence — Rhys knew I wanted to see you.

Pathetic, how your entire stomach flips.

“…You call him Fin?”

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up enough to understand Azriel’s question.

“We’ve been living under the same roof.” You shrug slowly. “I…guess he got tired of me using his title.”

Az stares at you, assessing. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you fidget under the intensity of his gaze.

“What is it?” You ask him.

“I’m worried about you. I know he’s taking you to the ball. I don’t want you playing his games.”

You purse your lips. “…That why you snuck here to my room, Az? To give me a warning—”

“I came here because you said you wanted to see me, and I want to see you, too.”

So open — for him. So straightforward that for a beat, you’re not sure how to react.

But then you’re moving, and so is he, and your bodies slam together in a tight, long-awaited embrace. Feeling his arms wrap around you is…everything. Everything you’ve missed and longed for. Everything you will ever long for. Whatever happens…Azriel is the only thing you’ll need, when all is said and done.

And that’s why you’re suddenly crying, clinging to him.

On instinct, Azriel’s arms tighten around you. He moves a hand up to cradle the back of your head, and he whispers, “Y/N…”

“Please don’t leave Windhaven.” The words choke out of you. “Please, Az, just…don’t go to Fenlaros. Please—”

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Tears and all, you do. You remain as close to him as you possibly can as you lift your head to meet his eyes.

You don’t know how you know, but you do — from that one, heavy stare, you can tell that things have changed. That he has changed. He looks like the same, stunning male that you’ve always admired, but something else sits on his face.

Emotion.

Determination.

Fire.

He opens his mouth. Takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body. And then he says, with utter clarity, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You almost break all over again. But he keeps talking, keeps sharing.

“I love you. No — I’m in love with you. I love you more than I can put into words. I want you and only you, and I’m not leaving you. The only reason I would ever walk out of that camp is if you were by my side, and we were leaving together.”

You are…weightless. Boneless. Held up only by Azriel’s arms. A tear rolls down your cheek, and you allow it to fall to the carpet.

“My handling of my feelings,” Az stares down at you, “has been one huge fuck up. I loved you long before you offer to let me practice intimacy on you. Experiencing those things with you…the things you made me feel…only brought those feelings to the surface. And instead of facing them as I should have done, I hid behind Kaeda to avoid them. But it was never about Kaeda. It was always you. It will always be you. And I’m scared, Y/N, I’m fucking terrified. But I’m done running. Done hiding.”

Silence sweeps into the room on swift wings, and you are suddenly incapable of thought, and of somehow turning it into words. Without Azriel’s voice to distract you, you’re aware of the tremors that wrack through his body. As though this is the scariest thing in the world to him, and he’s trying to hold strong against it.

It probably is.

He studies you closely. Croaks out, “Please say something.”

And perhaps it’s giving him the wrong impression entirely, but you’re stepping out of his arms and putting space between you. You just…need to gather your thoughts. To remember how to speak.

“I…” You blink. “I handled it badly, too.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“I made selfish choices. I…I acted out of jealousy because I wanted you, but you and Kaeda were…”

He shakes his head resolutely. “What I told you before was true. I never touched Kaeda like that. Even before I found out about all that Fenlaros shit, I think I knew that I wouldn’t. That I couldn’t.”

A fact that breaks your heart. Your eyes fill with tears again. “But I still did. Cass and I—”

“Cassian was there for you when I should have been, and I had no right — none — to react the way that I did. If anyone did anything wrong that night, it was me. But what you and Cass did…it does not matter. Not one bit.”

You’re pivoting on the spot, turning your back to him, before you can crumble entirely. He really means it. Really does not hate you for the choice you made, even though it hurt him.

“Y/N,” Az’s voice shakes behind you. “Please…look at me.”

Now you’re confronted with the situation, part of you wants to run — to hide.

But Az is being open. Honest. No matter how hard, how terrifying it is for him…he’s here. He’s trying.

And so you’ll try, too. And you think you might be shaking just as much as he is as you turn back to him.

The two of you stare at each other. Feel the situation out with your gazes alone.

Azriel is the one to break the extended silence.

“You said you need me.” He eyes you. He’s visibly trembling all over, and it has nothing to do with the chill in the room. Trembling like he’s trying to hold himself together against the weight of the situation.

“…Yes.” You swallow. “I do, Az…I think I’ve always needed you.”

“So show me.”

You pause. Blink, your eyes blown wide. “What?”

“Show me how you need me.” He steps closer, and though he’s shaking, he outreaches a hand and find yours. “Show me how to give you what you need.”

Your fingers brush his, and you’re forcing a lump down your throat. Drinking him in. He…he’s exquisite. “You mean…”

“I mean,” the gap is closed between your bodies, and his heat is reaching you, “I don’t want to practice. I want it all…everything…with you. I want you to take me. Only you—”

You’re surging forward with so much pent-up need that when your lips collide with Azriel’s, it almost knocks you both to the floor.

But Azriel’s arms are banding around you, and he’s a pillar against you, kissing you back with just as much heat.

You don’t know which of you makes what move. Your hands are all over him, and his are all over you, and he’s walking you backwards and groaning as the kiss deepens.

You find the hem of his tunic, dip your hands under, fingertips skating warm skin that shudders beneath your touch. “Can I take this off?” You murmur, and he swallows your words greedily.

“All of it — take it all.”

And so you do. There is no method to it. You’re a woman starved and crazed as you tear at his clothing, not caring about where it ends up, so long as it’s no longer on him. More and more tan skin is exposed, more muscles, more scars. And when he kicks out of his boots and breeches and his underwear is the only remaining barrier, you’re reaching for him, for the hardness that’s pushing through the dark grey fabric and taunting you.

But Azriel reaches out an arm to gently stop you. His hand brushes your cheek, and his eyes are pure hunger as he says, “Your turn.”

And it hits you just then that up in until this point, Azriel has never seen you naked — in this capacity, anyway. There have been plenty of non-sexual circumstances over the years in which you’ve gotten a glimpse of each other, but not like this. Even when he began practicing on you, you never took your clothes off.

And you’re fucking nervous. Even more so under the press of his gaze. He looks like he may combust as you slowly move your hands to your shirt and tug the front laces loose. You pull the hem out from where it was tucked into your breeches.

The fabric parts enough that it more or less slides off you and pools on the floor. You do not meet the heavy stare that watches you so closely. You may lose your nerve if you do.

But when the last few items of clothing are off and kicked away from you, and you’re left entirely bare, you hear a sharp intake of breath. Curiosity gets the better of you. You lift your gaze and resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest.

Azriel is staring at you like…like nobody ever has before.

Like you are the rare rays of sunlight that break through the grey landscape of Windhaven. Like the world around you was forged from your own two hands.

Like you’re beautiful, and worthy, and unruined.

“…What is it?” You clear your throat, shifting on the spot.

Azriel shakes out of a daze and takes a single step closer to you. “You are…” His throat bobs, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You almost laugh. Almost. But something stops you.

The sincerity in his tone, his eyes. The realisation that he truly means that.

Your eyes travel from his face, down his sculpted chest and stomach. The firm, toned legs and what sits beneath him. You’ve seen plenty of his body naked. But…not all at once.

You think the air might be punched from your lungs.

He’s hard as a rock — from looking at you. The tip of his cock is already leaking moisture. His wings flare proudly at his back.

“So beautiful.” He cups your jaw, guiding your eyes back up to his.

There’s nothing else you can say, in that moment, than the words that tumble from your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Emotion crosses his face, and both hands are gripping your cheeks. He kisses you deeply; so deeply that it steals your breath.

And then he pulls away, and he’s repeating his earlier words, his forehead pressed to yours. “Show me — show me what you need. No games, just…you and me.”

No games, indeed. You cannot wait any longer.

You rise on the tips of your toes and claim his mouth with yours, and you’re guiding him back, back, until his legs are hitting the bed and he’s gladly falling onto it. He sprawls out, watching as you climb over him. As your hand caresses his stomach and moves down.

And when your fingertips brush the head of his cock, a deep, delicious noises rumbles in his throat.

You mop the moisture up with your palm, using it to slick the length of him and slide your hand up and down. He hisses between his teeth, hips jerking, hands bunching within the covers on your bed.

“No games,” he repeats through gritted teeth. “This is about both of us.”

And you know that, and you’re not patient enough, anyway, for foreplay right now.

It dawns on you that there will plenty of time for that.

He is not leaving Windhaven — not leaving you.

You will have experiences together beyond this one night.

And with that very fact warming your heart and making it set to burst, you place your legs either side of his body and stare down at him. His cock brushes against your centre, and he can feel how wet you already are for him. His eyes travel down.

You watch, and you ask him, quietly, “You’re sure about this?”

His gaze flicks up immediately. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.” He reaches out a trembling hand and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “That doesn’t mean I’m not nervous — gods, I really fucking am. So scared. I just…want to do it right. To be good for you.”

The sentiment almost brings tears to your eyes. “You couldn’t do it wrong if you tried, Az. Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.” He sits up a little — angles himself closer to you. “And I love you with my whole heart, too.”

And that’s all either of you need, isn’t it? Love and trust. The need that exits between you. Everything that is just…yours and Azriel’s relationship in its entirety.

Your eyes remain locked with his as you gently reach down and position his cock at your entrance. He breathes shakily. Doesn’t look away from you once.

Not as you slide down onto him just a little. You pause at the first feel of your walls stretching to accommodate him. A pleasured frown furrows his brow. A moment passes, two, and then you slide down further.

More and more. Sinking onto him. Pausing. Adjusting. With every inch of his huge length that disappears inside you, you feel like every one of your nerve endings is struck by lightning. Azriel’s head lolls back, and he makes a soft noise.

“You’re okay?” You check, hovering over him.

“You feel—” He chokes on his words. “Fuck.”

It’s the encouragement you need to sink the rest of the way onto him. The last few inches slide into you quick, thanks to the slickness that soaks your folds, and then he’s pushed into the hilt and hitting a spot so deep inside you that you can’t stifle the noise that breaks from your throat.

“Did I hurt you?” Azriel gasps, and you can only shake your head. He seems to study your face for confirmation, before he’s pushing up to kiss you.

And you kiss him back. For a moment, that’s all either of you do.

But when he’s losing himself in your mouth, his tongue dancing around yours, seemingly distracted by your kiss…only then do you lift your hips and sink down onto him again. And then you’re falling into a slow, steady rhythm.

Azriel is gasping again, his mouth moving from yours to press kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbones — your breasts. As you rock slowly against him, the walls of your pussy squeezing him, coaxing him, he buries his face into your chest and explores you, lips and tongue paying attention to your nipples, teeth grazing with a gentleness that’s almost heartbreaking.

“So beautiful.” He whispers, and the hands that are sitting on your hips travel up your back — up to the scars that live in the place of your stolen wings. “Gods, Y/N, you’re everything.”

You moan, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You just…want to hold him to you, to feel him against you. It’s like it all comes crashing down on you that he very easily could have left.

But he didn’t. He won’t. He is here and so are you. He is yours and you are his.

“Talk to me,” you breathe, raking your nails down his arms. “Tell me how you feel.”

“So good — feels so good with you wrapped around me.”

“Yeah?” You lean down, brush a kiss to his lips. “You like being inside me?”

“There is — fuck — there is no one, Y/N, that I want to do this with, besides you.” His mouth slants over yours, and he whispers two words — take me — before he’s giving himself to your kiss.

He’s so big, so deep. And the blood in your veins feels like molten lava as the pace picks up, as his trembling begins to subside, and he grows more confident. His groans are loud, and his hands roam over your body before finally landing on your hips. Fingertips dig into your flesh with a dizzying bite, and he’s rocking you, encouraging you to take him. To fuck him.

This is not practice. This is two bolts of lighting striking in the same place. The friction between your bodies is perfect, like nothing else you’ve ever felt. The pleasure may just finish you yet. It’s electric. Addictive. You want to feel like this forever, with him.

And more pleasure floods you as in one swift move, he flips you over — takes you entirely by surprise. You’re landing on your back, and he’s hovering over you. He stills as he stares down at you.

“This is perfect.” He says, dipping down to kiss you again. It makes him move inside you suddenly, and the different angle has you both gasping into each other’s mouths. “Gods.”

“Fuck me, Az.” You moan. “Just like that.”

What starts out slow quickly builds in pace. The roll of Azriel’s hips become thrusts — and the moans, the cries, the words that leave you, all guide them to be deeper, harder. You think you could stay like this forever, with him buried inside of you, wringing pleasure from every corner of your body. It snakes through your veins and zips up your spine, and when his hand travels down and his fingers find your clit, you fucking explode.

You cry out, bucking up from the bed as your orgasm hits you full force. Azriel fucks you through it, and his groans are growing louder, more desperate, as the walls of your cunt clench around him. He breathes out a fractured, desperate noise, leaning down to brush his lips over yours as he fucks into you harder.

“I can’t last much longer.” He chokes around his pleasure, pressing quick, nipping kisses to your mouth. “I can’t—”

“Come for me.” You gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “Come inside me.”

The noise that your words coax from him is downright sinful. He grabs your hips in his hands, slants his mouth over yours. He slams into you again, again, again, and then he’s roaring his pleasure with enough force to shake the bed, and you feel every rope of come that he spills into you.

You’re trembling. Or maybe that’s him. Or both of you. Both slick with sweat, and both shaking, and both unable to hold yourselves up any longer.

Azriel collapses beside you, his body still tangled with yours. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths heating your skin. You sink a trembling hand into the strands of his hair.

“That was—” His voice hitches, “I can’t…can’t put it into words.”

Neither can you. It’s all you can do to nod as you catch your breath.

“Thank you.” A kiss is pressed against your neck. Another. Az’s arm drapes over your chest, and he moves his mouth to yours. “Thank you.”

Still void of words, you settle on kissing him. Deep. Slow. Unhurried. Your hand cups his cheek, and your tongue strokes into his mouth. Lays out a litany of sentiments that you’re currently incapable of verbalising.

It feels like you kiss each other forever. But then you’re pulling back, pressing your foreheads together. And you stare into Azriel’s eyes as you tell him once again, “I love you.”

Emotion floods his eyes, and he holds you as close to him as he possible can, murmuring onto your mouth, “I love you, too. I think I always have.”

You know you always have. You tuck yourself into his side, content to feel his skin against yours. The rest of the world floats away. There is nothing and no one but you and him. Your Azriel.

Your eyes are growing heavy when he brushes his lips against your forehead, and he whispers the words you’ve needed to hear for so, so long.

“Whatever happens, Y/N,” another kiss joins the first, “you and I will face it together.”

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

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eveningepiphany · 1 year

Text

tease | H.S oneshot

summary: seeing harry tonguing his guitar last night has you finally admitting the state he puts you in. and that’s never good when you’re a tour photographer. especially now you have photographic evidence of the moment.

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem rec), dirty talk, praise, swearing

a/n: can’t stop thinking about that fucking video? like it’s on loop in my head I can’t. he was so slutty last night it’s illegal. also this isn’t 100% proofread so enjoy I hope it’s okay!

———

Some days at work are harder than others for you.

Today, you knew was going to be rough the second Harry walked out in single-handedly the most revealing outfit he could have. Borderlining absolutely slutty.

And as his tour photographer, that is quite a bold statement to make when you’ve seen every single outfit— and when his top half is often found shirtless up on stage.

But tonight, out backstage when you were prepping your SD cards and ordering your camera lenses, he walked out of his dressing room adorning his stage outfit to show you, and your stomach dropped the sight of him.

It was a new style, something he hadn’t worn before. A cropped, tasseled blue vest, paired with low rise pants that looked like they were clinging onto his hips for dear life.

“Alrighty, what d’ya think?” He asked, doing a little spin to shake the tassels.

Your mouth opened and words struggled to form as your head fogged over from just seeing his body. And the way his ferns were fully out— along with almost all of his other ink on display. Arms, chest and all.

You had sworn this, many times, was just your eye for art. For people like him who made photography electric. But as time and the tour progressed on from its earlier start in 2021, it was getting harder to convince yourself. Because even if you didn’t acknowledge it, there was no way to justify the heat that stirred in your stomach as just admiration.

“Oh— wow— I like the tassels,” you paused, tongue swiping over your lips, “they’ll be really fun in the photos, I’ll try to get some motion blur type shots with them.”

Your hand reached out before your brain even computed what it was doing, grabbing one of the rhinestoned threads at the base of his vest and running down it. Knuckles brushing the side of his chest.

“Excited to see them as always, m’lovely.” He smiles, the pet name making you flush.

“10 minutes till you’re on, H!” Someone called out.

You laughed at the panicked expression on his face as he realised he was probably dawdling, and in fact behind on his own schedule.

“Alright!” He confirmed back, then chuckling as he whispered to you, “I still gotta brush m’teeth.”

“Well, cmon let’s go, I’ll see what behind the scene shots I can get.”

And you thought that the time spent with him pre-show would ease your racing mind a little, but now that you’re out on the floor you’re almost jittering.

He looks fucking delectable. And by the sound of the stadium around you, they notice it too.

As he steps out you have to force your camera up to your face, which is something you never have to do? But looking at him through your viewfinder is hardly enough to satiate you.

Especially a little later in the show, when your camera is aimed to the back of him— and he’s squated down to get a drink of water…

His pants slipping so far down his hips that the waistband of his Calvin Kleins are easily visible.

Some girls on barricade behind you are going feral simply at the sight. And you can hardly blame them, because the sight of them makes you a little light headed too. Tonight he’s really not leaving much to the imagination.

You feel obliged to take a photo of it, lens aiming up to him— hearing the girls from behind you as your cameras shutters open to capture the moment. They’re shouting clearly, “Y/N, you get that pic girl!”

Another one yelling from your left, “SHES ONE OF US!”

You laugh at them. The fans are always an amazing part of the show. You leave with an array of adorable bracelets, funny shirts, and always lovely compliments.

You snap a few more photos before someone calls your name again, and you turn. A brunette girl, in an incredible replica of his recent purple and black heart overalls from the recent Wembley show, is standing.

“Y/N!” She reaffirms when you’re looking at her.

“Hi lovely, your outfit is amazing.” You smile, and she has fresh tears streaming down her face— a common love on tour occurrence.

“Ohmygod, thank you so much. I made you this tshirt, i wanted to give it to you!” She pulled a white shirt from her feet, presumably from a bag.

She held it out, unfolding it to show off the print on the front.

You immediately couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh at it. A big pink shaded heart, with 2 also heart-shaped photos on each side of it— of you and Harry. But the best bit was the bubble written font, “my favourite parents!” that is above it.

“I— can I please take a photo of you with it first.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, “No way, of course you fucking can.”

You take a few photos of her posing with the shirt, “I have 2, please feel free take them both!”

You can only assume one of them is intended for Harry. And even if it’s a little weird of you to take them, you do anyway because the girl was too lovely to even consider denying them.

“Thank you so much.” You chuckle as you hang them over your elbow. She still looks starstruck at the interaction that just occurred and you’re overly excited to edit the photos later on.

In the time of the short interaction, you turned to find Harry. He’s about to transition into she, and is over on the main stage.

You hustle to get yourself up from the floor and onto the stage area. Moving to chuck the shirts on the bench, where most of the bands essentials are for easy access.

Harry sees you over there and you decide to show him the design on the front before you can overthink it.

He’s beginning to sing the intro, and he chuckles the lyrics into the mic as he sees it. And fans around the whole arena scream at the shirt— which you didn’t realise was being displayed on the big screens.

You shake your head, struggling not to admire the tone of his laugh that just echoed around the stadium.

Also blushing a little at the fact you did genuinely just show him a shirt with both of your faces of it, deeming you both as a fans ‘parents’.

You go back to doing your actual job, moving to get a good angle, aiming to blend back into the background as you take more photos for the night.

Capturing the sway and jolts of his tassels as he sings. Getting a few shots that not only capture his energy but also his outfit perfectly.

You smile at yourself and at your work.

And you glance up as Harry joins in with Mitch while he absolutely shreds his guitar solo.

Sweat is beading on Harry’s chest and you’re all too aware how much money people would pay to see it from your angle. Thank god for Barcelona’s heat.

And, fuck, not only is it that. His arms look perfect as well. This outfit is really just showing as much of himself off as possible.

You change the settings on your camera hastily to alter the outcome of these next few shots.

He’d stepped away from the mic, turning to look at the band, mouthing something you couldn’t decipher.

He starts to lean down head getting closer to guitar. His tongue juts out…

Your eyes immediately pull back a little from your camera because, there no fucking way he’s about to let some kind of intrusive thought win here.

Time seems to slow. But not the movement of his tongue. It’s flicking fast, as if to mimic it playing the strings of his guitar. Or something like that anyway, because all you can think of is… well… something too inappropriate to even be entertaining in your head given he’s literally your boss.

You can hear the piercing screams around you, someone in the front shouting what the fuck loud enough you swear someone in the back of the stadium could’ve heard it.

You’re not even aware you bought your camera back up to your face and that you’d clicked the button a few times until it’s done and the moments over.

Harry’s laughing at himself, and Sarah is face palming at his lewd action. His smug smile after solidifies the fact he knows what the fuck he just did. And exactly the kind of effect it’s left on some people.

Just not aware you’re one of them…

Because you can’t deny the way you spent rest of the night with a nagging warmth between your legs. One that festered long after the moment was over.

After the show came to a close and you eventually ended up in your hotel room, freshly showered as you edited some of your favourite photos. Including the shots you’d captured of him and his guitar.

Which were fucking insane. You had just the right amount of contrast going on in them, and a certain degree of motion blur that indicated the movement his tongue was making.

The final product was amazing once you had edited it on photoshop. But you spent the remainder of the night in your hotel room ridiculously worked up. Left in bed toying with your clit lazily as you stared at the celling, acting like you didn’t have a specific person in your thoughts.

It got to the point in the next day where you stressed about what photos to show him. And whether or not that included the one you literally came to the thought of last night?

Usually you wouldn’t hesitate, especially since it looked incredible. But you were embarrassed internally. What would he think, or say? And could you even play off your sheer attraction to the image.

You placed your head in your hands with a groan, sat in the chair over by the window. You’re tired, and swear on your life your decision making is going to be impaired when he walks into your room.

Which you didn’t have much more time to stress much about it as a knock came to your door that you knew was him.

You rushed over to open it, finding him standing there, hair freshly washed and clad in much more clothing then you last saw him in. A plain white shirt and some gym shorts— that still made him look hot as fuck, without even trying?

He greets you with a good morning, voice a tad hoarse from last nights show. And he’s smiling as he hands you a cup, one you know is filled with hot chocolate. Just for you.

“I owe you like 100 hot chocolates for how many you’ve bought me just in this leg of the tour alone.” You laugh, letting him past you.

He glances at the unmade bed— you stopped making it a while after he started to come visit your room the morning after the show to pick which photos he liked best, and ones he also wanted edited. Sometimes he’d settle himself on it, legs crossed like a cute little kid.

“Think of it as a gift for all your talent. And putting up with me.” He chuckles, and plops himself down on the chair that’s opposite to the one you were sitting in.

So you follow suit, walking back over the your chair. Taking a small sip of the sweet liquid in your hands.

“Have any favourites so far?” He asks, taking a quick swig of his own drink— which you can only assume is hot tea.

Yes, you think, the one where you’re about to practically fuck your guitar strings with your tongue.

You substitute that for, “A few! The tassels were so fun to try and capture.”

You rotated the laptop screen to show him a cool shot you edited of him. It was a front on photo, his arms extended and washboard abs in their full fucking glory along with his tattoos.

He nods, a smile coming across his lips, crinkling the corners of his slightly tired eyes.

You showcase him a couple, all that he gives relentless praise on— regardless of if they had been edited or not. But you just want to show him your favourite.

You swallow as you stare at it on the screen of your macbook. Working up the courage to turn the screen to him as he waits cluelessly. Does he even know you took this?

“This one too…” you hesitate a little as you swivel the laptop around on your lap.

“Oh. I like this one a lot.” He says, nodding and then glancing up from the screen to your semi-flushed face.

“Didn’t know you took that.” He chuckles, shrugging and almost seeming… like he has more to say about this situation.

Like something is laying on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

You think he’s not going to though, after a beat of silence, you nod.

“Yea… what actually are you doing in this photo?” You nervous laugh, and wonder what kind of answer he’s going to provide.

He runs a hand through his curls, brows raised a little at your question.

“What did you think I was doing?” He quizzes, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“I- well it looked quite… everyone in the audience was going wild. Were you trying to be a tease?”

“I wasn’t! I swear. I was playing the guitar.” He confirmed, yet smirking like he knew there was a two-way perception of the event.

“With your tongue?” You sighed out a laugh.

“You still didn’t answer me. What did you think I was doing?” He backtracks, eyes watching you intensely as you’re both entering some rather dangerous, untouched territory.

You’re quiet again, and he raises his brows still expecting a response.

You flush under his gaze, hand coming to cover your eyes. “It just looked very…”

“Very…?”

“Inappropriate.” You laughed, feeling like you were emotionally torturing yourself by letting this situation happen.

“How so?” He continues to push, wanting to hear more. Secretly adoring the way you get all flustered about it. How badly he wants you to tell him exactly what the movement of his tongue reminded you of.

“It just— you know what I mean, Harry!” You say, now being the one trying to backtrack out of this entire situation. That in the end is still technically your own fault.

You distract yourself with other photos, going in and trying to find another possible contender for his new post on instagram.

“Don’t try and avoid the conversation, love.” He chuckles at your sudden shy demeanour.

“Harry.” You place your hand over your face again trying to mentally reset yourself. Put your thinking back in line.

“Cmon! I’m just curious.” He tries to brush it off, but if he has to resort to begging, he honestly wouldn’t hesitate.

“I know you are, but— it’s weird!” You whine, wanting to die at the fact you had let this happen in the first place.

“I promise I won’t judge.” He places his hand over his heart, face serious, like he was swearing it on his bloodline.

You thought about it a little longer. He clearly was not going to leave you alone if he didn’t get an answer. You could try and lie, but he already knows anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“You know, Harry. You just want to hear me say it.” You murmur, bringing up the chocolaty drink to your lips to distract yourself.

“Sure, maybe I do. I wanna confirm my suspicions.” He proposes, a small shrug of his shoulders. You place the drink back on the coaster, staring at him. Eventually caving.

“It— everyone definitely thought it looked like you were, uh, giving oral.” You rushed out, trying to now act as nonchalant as possible to avoid further questioning.

I didn’t work.

“So everyone including you?” He asked.

“Well… yea.” Your cheeks were pink, and he smiled at your flustered voice.

“Dirty thing.” He chuckled, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief thinking maybe you could move on and pretend as if this never happened, but he continues on.

“Had you a little worked up, did I?”

“May I touch on how unprofessional this conversation is?” You bring up, trying to save yourself. But it’s evident in your voice you hardly mean it. You are admittedly a little curious as to where he’s going with this. Equally, if not more embarrassed than anything, but still curious.

“I suppose you can, yes.” He nods.

“But may I bring up how you undressing me with your eyes yesterday was unprofessional? Because unless I’m insane, you definitely were.” He’s cocky, and overconfident with his accusation.

Not that it can be really labelled as an accusation, given he’s not wrong at all.

“I—“ you swallow, “Okay. Whatever. Point proven.”

He laughs at your surrender, shuffling forward on the chair.

“So you were— that’s the kind of stuff you were thinking about me?” He rests his elbows on his knees, watching you intently.

“You are really trying to get something out of me aren’t you? What do you want to hear me say?” You raise your brows, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Just want you to tell me the truth. Be honest with me, since we’re talking about being professional. I think that’s a good start.” He sounds so gentle yet firm, and your devouring this dominant kind of trait he’s showing you.

“Communication and honesty is very important when it comes to professionalism.”

Pleasure has been simmering in your stomach since he walked through the door, and his persistence is beginning to pay off, since you’re starting to let your guard down.

“So you want me to tell you how wet I got after your little stunt last night? That if I wasn’t your employee, after the show you would have found me in your dressing room bent over on the table.”

“Waiting for you to come in there, all sweaty and ready to strip that teeny fucking vest off, and put your mouth to use.”

He’s got a dusting of red over his own cheeks now, blood rushing to his cock as he realised he cracked you open now. Your dirty words spilling out of your mouth after holding back seemingly since last night.

“That what you would’ve done? Bent yourself over my dressing room table waiting for me like a pretty little post-show gift?”

“Maybe so.” You feed into it, watching as his eyes darken with desire.

He sighs out, standing up promptly, “Alright, darling. I’m gonna offer you something. You don’t have to agree, but if you do we can stop at any time. Okay?”

“What exactly are you offering?” You ask as leans his tall frame down to you, hands bracketed on your hips.

“For me to pick you up, put you on that bed and strip you until I can bury my head between your legs.” He stated, matter of factly.

Your thighs are shaking so hard you’re clenching them together— clit throbbing at the pressure.

You can only look up at him and nod, to which he doesn’t take as an answer.

“Baby, need you to use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes, Harry. Want that please.” You whine, very quickly becoming delusional at his close proximity.

He grunts as he picks you up, his arms firm around your body and he carry’s you the few feet to the bed. His lips hot as they suddenly come in contact with your jaw.

He pushes your legs open with his thigh, making you moan and push your hips forward.

“Needy girl.” He whispers, voice dirty and hot near your ear as he sucks on the skin below it.

His hands cascade down your body, finding the waistband of your sweatpants and tugging it down.

“Please, please touch me.” You’re wild, bucking your hips up. Wanting to get his tongue on you so bad.

He chuckles at your sudden spiral, how quickly you’ve unravelled before him. Truly like a present, all laid out waiting just for him.

He palms his hand over your damp front, “Soaking through already, fuckin’ hell.”

You groan as he rubs a pressured circle on your fabric-covered clit.

“Want to tell me who got you so wet?” He coos, slowly moving his fingers over you as he waits for an answer.

You give it to him shamelessly, “You. Want you so badly.”

He’s over the moon to finally have you like this. Because it became apparent rather quickly the crush he’d developed on you since you were hired. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t fucked his fist at the thought of getting to touch you.

“Oh, you’re being so good for me now. Because I’ve got my hand between your pretty legs I bet.”

You cant even respond as he slides your drenched underwear down away from your tingling core.

He audibly groans at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy. Watching as you squirm under his stare.

“Jesus fuck, Y/N. How long have you been hiding this gorgeous cunt from me?”

“Too long.” You whimper.

His fingers slid through you, and he gathered up your arousal to play with your clit. Relishing the way it slides under his fingertips.

You were clenching around nothing as he gently rolled your clit between calloused fingers. Playing with it until you were a mess. Moaning and grinding up against his fingers. Begging for what he’d promised earlier.

“Your mouth, Harry. Need it. Anywhere.”

“S’that why your little hole is clenching so hard? Like it’s begging for me.” He watched, mesmerised as your hole pulsed around nothing, and leaked more clear arousal.

You look so delicious to him. And he took a moment to appreciate the fact you were about to let him clean up all that arousal pooling at your hole

He sunk down between your legs very slowly. Distracting himself a few times with mouthing over your fabric covered breasts.

Eventually making it there, so he could blow over your clit, letting you squirm at the teasing stimulation. You smelt amazing too, your sweet tangy scent making his mouth water.

He was grabbing at his cock, pushing at it trying to relieve pressure down there as he peppered kisses along your inner thigh.

“Stop teasing, H. Please I— fuck.” You hissed as he bit the seam of skin of your thigh.

“Cant handle it huh? Are you gonna come before I even get my tongue on you.”

“Want to finish around your mouth.” You plead with him. And he shakes his head with a laugh, anticipating your reaction as he leans forward to drag a long stroke through your slit.

Your whole body shakes with a moan. His velvety, hot tongue immediately leaving you a wreck.

“Harryyy…” You cry out, bucking your hips into his face.

“Gonna ruin your cunt, darling.” He murmurs into you, and you know it’s true with the way your hole is clenching.

He sucks your clit into his mouth before placing fast strokes over it. Flicking and rolling it between his tongue and lips.

The sounds of him lapping up your pussy are echoing through the room, further fuelling the fire that’s started in you.

Your whole jaw goes lax as he moves further down, gliding over your hole— pushing his tongue past your entrance.

“Fuck!” You moan, hips jolting, causing his hands to slide up and hold them into place.

He slides it into you as far as he can, nose bumping your clit. Making you realise very quickly that you’re going to finish around his mouth.

He moans into you, again the vibrations makes you writhe in his tight grip. “I- Harry- more!”

It’s making your whole body shake, and he’s pressed so far into you that it’s all you can feel. And it’s obvious that you’re about to come, just with the way your cunt is pulsing around his mouth.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck. Harry, please, I’m gonna come!” You felt the burning spark fly through you, hitting you like a truck when his tongue curled and rocked inside you.

He’s humming and pressing himself so close you genuinely think he can’t breathe. And you realise immediately when the rubber band in snapped inside of you.

It gushed through your whole body, making you moan and cry in his grip. He couldn’t even explain the feeling of having you clenching around his tongue. It almost made him finish in his pants.

He lapped up every single drop he could. But he didn’t stop.

Your clit was so sensitive as he came back up to it with the same intensive pace.

You tried to push him off, “be a good girl, baby, give me another one.”

“So sensitive, Harry.” You whined, hand threading into his soft hair.

“Y’can take it.” He states, going back to sucking on your clit, and the outside of your entrance.

It made you a mess. A proper fucking mess.

You legs were being spread wide by the palm of his hands, and you were almost crying at how sensitive your pussy was.

You were always a five-minute-scroll-break kind of girl when it came to masturbation. So this came as a whole shock to your body. And it was so fucking hot from his perspective.

All he could hear was your filthy fucking whines, begging him one minute to stop and the next to go faster. And he was going insane at how sensitive your little hole was.

That was all he could feel. The clenching of your cunt, the absolute shaking mess your body was becoming.

His tongue flicked over your clit, just as you imagined he would after seeing him last night. And it was getting to messy, your arousal absolutely coating his mouth and chin.

“I-“ a deep suck of your clit, “I’m gonna fucking come!”

You writhed the whole way through your orgasm. Fucking into his face like it was a toy, grinding into it so hard your sure he was completely consumed by you.

And as you came down from the high, still shaking, he cleaned up down there again. Too good to waste, was his thought process. ‘You tasted like a dream’ you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter against you at some point.

His thumbs run over the dips of your hips to bring you back down to earth.

“Good girl, Baby. Took my mouth so fucking well.” He presses a final kiss on your clit as he stood up, your hands dragging up his back did.

“Feeling a little better too, i hope.”

“Yes. So good. H.” You panted, still in a bit of a daze.

“Next time,” he peppered a kiss on you shoulder, “tell me when you’re feeling all worked up okay.”

You nodded, hands sliding to rest in his hair.

“Or by all means, lay yourself out in my dressing room so I can make make come like you deserve.” He smiles at your little nod, still so out of it.

“My little gift, hm?” He coos, stroking a gentle hand down your face.

And he knows he’d do this moment a thousand times over with you. Just to see that smile flash over your lips.

———

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles barcelona #he is so fucking hot I cant #that clip 🧎‍♀️#smut

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midnightmah07 · 23 days

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Template can be found here.

Background & Personality:

Maisie is sweet, energetic, kind and empathetic, some people would even describe her as naive... Which couldn't be farther from the truth. She's born into a wealthy family that taught her and her sister everything there is to know about music and art, and just like her older sister, she pursued a music career at an early age, being known for her angelic voice. Still, despite her sweet personality and loving persona, Maisie can be very feisty to those who test her patience and wrong her or her loved ones; as she puts it: "my good opinion once lost is lost forever", which makes her susceptible to holding grudges.

Maisie is the youngest of two sisters, having an 11 year age gap with her oldest sister, and she's the aunt of Grace — @4necdote's OC. Grace and her family lost their fortune for a few years due to her sister's music producer taking advantage of them; during this time, Maisie did her best to support and help her family in every way, shape and form, working herself to the bone despite her young age to make sure they were safe and sound. Once her sister fell in love with a good man and got her fortune back, Maisie remembered her childhood dream of falling in love and building her own family, her own romantic fantasies that were once lost and locked deep into her subconscious due to what happened to her family came flooding back into her heart after this. Still, despite this, the damage of what happened to her sister made Maisie more wary of people in general, making her too difficult to please and really picky when it comes to her romantic partners, being scared of opening her heart to most people that weren't her family.

Fun facts: Maisie is a jazz singer, and despite being well-known, she's less famous than her older sister, who's an opera singer; Maisie is often mistaken for being much younger than she actually is, and it's one of her insecurities; Maisie has only had 1 boyfriend despite her age, due to her unrealistic standards, and her first kiss was awful and she prefers to not talk about it please; she's albino

Basic info:

Height: 160cm

Age: 25

Nicknames: Mai (by friends and family), Whiskers and Ribbons (by Fellow)

Birthday: December 11th

Dominant hand: left

Favorite food: sole meunière

Occupation: singer

Hobbies: playing the piano, painting

Homeland: Shaftlands

Unique Magic: [to be added]

Relationships:

Grace ( @4necdote's OC): Maisie is Grace's aunt, but due to their small age gap, Maisie and Grace feel more like two sisters. They're very fond of each other, especially because of the period of time where Maisie had to take care of her family; Grace is often referred to as Maisie's favorite nephew, and Grace is always the one to receive Maisie's clothes when she needs to get rid of her old ones. Maisie usually tries to give Grace advice, and despite her lack of experience, she's usually wonderful at helping Grace with her romantic life, helping her realize her feelings towards Floyd once she complained about the boy to her aunt.

♡ Fellow Honest: because I still need to know more about Fellow due to not knowing the full story of Playful Land, I can't go into detail about their story, however! Fellow and Maisie are exes, him being the only boyfriend she's ever had. His playful demeanor and charming persona managed to sweep her off her feet, and Fellow genuinely fell for Maisie as well... But due to issues relating to Fellow's life, Fellow betrayed her trust and they broke up, but both of them still have strong feelings towards each other.

Gidel: Maisie had, and still has, a soft spot towards Gidel. She sees him as a sweet and wonderful boy, and often encourages him to seek his dreams and grow as a person. Gidel clings to her and views her as an older sister, and because of this he was deeply hurt once they had to part ways due to Fellow and Maisie's breakup.

Vil Schoenheit: after learning he's Grace's housewarden, Maisie keeps an eye out for him in order to know if he treats her nephew well, and upon learning about his personality and how he treats others, Maisie is very pleased with him, even taking an interest in his work and complimenting his acting and singing in the times she manages to see him.

Floyd Leech: Maisie finds Floyd... Interesting, to say the least. Despite this, she can see how much he cares for and loves her nephew, and because of that she gives him his full support, often helping him out and making ways for them to spend time together, much to Grace's dismay.

Sam: Maisie and Sam are childhood friends. They went to school around the same time, and Maisie was a victim of many of Sam's tricks and schemes — although they were all made with light hearted intentions. Although they went to different schools, they saw each other rather frequently and keep in touch even today, Sam sometimes attending her shows and Maisie making sure to advertise his business whenever she can.

Crewel: Maisie met him when she grew up through Sam, and they hit it off right from the get go. They usually talk about fashion together and often shop together when they want to catch up, and at some point, Crewel tried making attempts to flirt with her. Unfortunately, due to still having feelings towards Fellow, Maisie wasn't able to reciprocate, so their relationship is purely platonic, however Crewel wouldn't mind taking her on a date if she ever decided to give him the opportunity.

Character reference:

#💙! maisie #twisted wonderland #twst #oc x canon #NEW OC IN TOWN LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #*ahem*#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #art #digital art

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daiziesssart · 5 months

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a humiliatingly long character analysis of lily evans

Someone sent me an ask that briefly mentioned how misunderstood Lily is, and before I knew it I was typing out this monster. I am. sorry. This is literally just me rambling about her, what I find compelling about her character, and why her character is so often misunderstood.

This is long as hell so I'm putting it under a read more lolol

Part of the reason I like Lily so much (other than my being ginger and projecting onto any redheaded female character I see) is that even though she isn’t explored as much as her other Marauders Era counterparts, we know enough about her to start building the framework for her character. And what I see is a girl who was incredibly interesting, kind, and flawed.

One thing I always think about in regards to Lily is that she was dealt with a pretty unfair hand. As soon as she receives her letter, she’s basically torn between two worlds, both of which have been less than welcome to her. On one hand, we have the muggle world that she’s known all her life, but once she starts integrating into the wizarding world, she likely feels a bit of a disconnect with that world. To twist the knife further, her sister- whom she loved dearly and grew up so close with- starts outwardly resenting her with such unbridled hostility that they likely couldn’t even be in a room alone together without major conflict.

On the other hand, we have the wizarding world– a world she’s not as familiar with and one she soon learns holds a demographic of people who hate everything she is and would rather see her excommunicated or even dead. And even though finding out you’re a witch/wizard is probably such an exciting and life-changing moment, I can’t help but also take note of the difficulties, especially if you’re the only one in your family with magic. You’re essentially uprooted from the only way of life you’ve known at an already complicated age, and now you have to quickly become acclimated to this new world that you only just found out existed. Not only that, but now you’re suddenly attending a school with classes that are primarily focused on this world of magic (which is still brand new to you), and you have to work extra hard to play catch up in order to do well. Like, that all seems like… a lot for a kid to handle.

And then I remember how young she was when she was thrown into that mess. She was only 11, and kids that age desperately crave any sense of belonging. I mean, that’s something that still holds true for adults, but it’s especially critical for a developing child. So imagine Lily, ages 11-15, struggling to stay afloat in this weird purgatory between these two parts of herself, both of which have been the cause for major and traumatic experiences relating to rejection in her life.

(I say it was the “cause” even though it’s obvious that those things were never her fault at all, but when you’re a young kid navigating the world, the only thing you’re able to process is that the common denominator is you, therefore you’re the one who must shoulder the blame.)

So now we have this tween-teenaged girl who has a dysfunctional relationship with two major parts of identity and probably feels absolutely lost.

This is why her hesitancy to end her friendship with Snape makes sense to me. Even though by fifth year he’s already well past toeing the line with the dark arts, Lily was willing to overlook some pretty egregious and troubling things in order to maintain the relationship. I kind of interpret that as her way of desperately clinging on to any sense of belonging she has left; her relationship with Petunia has already been poisoned, and now there are people who resent her existence as a witch; if she loses Severus too, what and who else does she have? And what tone does that set for her, if everyone and everything she’s come to hold close to her ends up turning her away?

It’s also important to note that not only is Severus one of her few remaining connections to the muggle world, but he’s also a wizard who grew up in the muggle world; he understands her, and I don’t doubt that he gave her some stability at times when she needed it (her finding out about her being a witch, her having trouble acclimating to the wizarding world, etc).

I see this as being one of her flaws and I can actually appreciate how relatable and realistic it feels. Lily is not a bad person; on the contrary, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone to describe her as such. Not to get all clinical and boring, but the interesting thing about (unhealthy) coping mechanisms is that it can actually be really hard to identify them in your own behavior. Unless you’re in therapy and/or are actively psychoanalyzing yourself, you likely don’t even realize how many of your common behaviors are born from self defense mechanisms put in place by your brain after past events.

To me, it makes sense why she avoided actually confronting the idea that Snape was too far gone. We know that she was aware of the path Severus was taking, but it almost seems like she was still convinced that she could save him, and could possibly steer him back in the right direction. It’s only when she becomes the target of his bigotry that she realizes that the Snape who called her a ‘mudblood’ was not the same Severus who was the one who held her hand and introduced her to this new, exciting world.

In a general sense, yes, it is selfish, to only take a stand when something starts affecting you personally. But I also think it’s important to note that it’s unlikely that this was a conscious decision on Lily’s part. In my eyes, it was easier to delude herself into thinking she still had a chance to save him before it was too late when she was able to separate him from his actions (considering, a lot of the time, she was only hearing about them after the fact, rather than seeing them firsthand). But the elusion is shattered once she sees that the Snape she grew up with– her friend, Severus– is, in fact, the same person who’s out there calling other students slurs, dismissing the malicious use of Dark Magic on others as just “a laugh”. There we see a Lily who is actually revealed to have been somewhat aware of Snape’s involvement with the darker side of magic, and genuinely feels pretty ashamed about her inaction.

Also, this is in no way me being a Snape-anti, and I actually could do an entire separate analysis on his character alone and why I find him so interesting.

Anyways, that moment in SWM is probably somewhat of an epiphany to her. It’s like a dam that’s been broken, and now she’s overwhelmed with the realization of exactly how much she overlooked in order to keep their friendship afloat. And for someone like Lily Evans, someone whom we know is opinionated and unafraid to call others out on their bullshit, that can be hard to swallow and feel pretty mortifying and shameful. And I think this was a huge turning point for her- at that point, she doesn’t have the luxury of avoiding uncomfortable truths anymore and now that she’s getting closer to graduating and being thrown out into the world on the brink of war, this was probably a really sobering discovery.

This is where we don’t have as much info to go off of, and a lot of it is up to interpretation. But we actually have little crumbs to go off of following her graduation and leading up to her death.

One of my favorite little tidbits isn’t in the books, and @seriousbrat's post reminded me about it. Here's the actual entry on Pottermore for anyone who's interested, but I'll summarize: after James and Lily began dating, Lily brings James to meet newly engaged Petunia and Vernon. Everything goes downhill, because Vernon is a smarmy asshole, and James is still pretty immature and can’t help but mess with him (which… fair, I guess). Petunia and Vernon storm out after Petunia letting Lily know that she had no intentions of having her as a bridesmaid, which causes Lily to break down into tears. I mention this because I also think it’s a pretty important aspect of her character; like we’ve seen in her past friendship with Snape, Lily seems more than willing to forgive others most of the time. Petunia is a bit of a complicated character herself, but she was objectively very cruel and unfair to Lily once it became obvious that she was a witch and Petunia was not.

Something that always stands out to me is just how desperate Lily is to earn Petunia’s trust and approval again. Even up until her death, she was more than willing to mend the relationship, were Petunia ever to consider.

This is a detail about Lily that I feel is misunderstood quite a bit. I’ve seen a lot of instances of her character being reduced to a one-dimensional archetype with little to no complexity. And often, that archetype is “know-it-all, prudish, self righteous bookworm who is also a goody two-shoes with a stick up her ass”. What annoys me is that the reason for this is most definitely the scene in which she blows up at James in SWM for bullying Snape, and hurls quite a few insults at him directly after an extremely devastating and overwhelming situation for her. This frustrates me because we know for a fact that she’s the polar opposite of this archetype I’ve seen her reduced to.

In actuality, she’s referred to as popular, charming, witty, bright and kind. From flashbacks we also are shown that she’s opinionated, bold, and not afraid to challenge others. With other context, like her interpersonal relationships, we can also see that she’s pretty emotionally driven and wears her heart on her sleeve.

(I know Remus didn’t mention Lily much in the books, but I really love how he described her in the movies. He tells Harry that the first thing he noticed about him was not his striking resemblance to his father, but his eyes, the same eyes Lily had. He also calls her a “singularly gifted witch” and an “uncommonly kind woman”.

“She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even and perhaps most especially, when that person could not see it in themselves.”

I know there are mixed feelings on whether or not the films count as canon source material, so take it with a grain of salt, but I personally cannot see a world in which Lily and Remus didn’t become close friends.)

Here we have a direct description of what she was like and who she was, corroborated by recounting of memories of her, and yet for some reason, this feels like the thing that is most commonly lost in translation.

I don’t think I can say why I think that is without mentioning the dreaded M word (misogyny- it’s misogyny), but I also don’t want to get too off topic so I’ll be brief: female characters are typically not given the same grace as male characters. When we have an undeveloped male character, he’s awarded the assumption that despite his lack of depth, there still exists a complex and multifaceted character– it’s merely just potential that hasn’t been tapped into. Whereas when we have underdeveloped female characters, they are taken at face value, meaning that not much exists beyond the little information we have of them. They are not presumed to have a life or a story that exists beyond the surface of what we know like male characters are. That’s why I think characters like Regulus, Evan, or Barty (just to name a few) are more popular than Lily, despite being less developed than she is.

(Before anyone gets defensive, no, I don’t think it’s an individual problem that you alone need to be shamed for. I think it’s the result of a deeper issue regarding misogyny in media as a concept; these are things that we’ve all unknowingly internalized and while it’s not our fault, we still have to do the work to deconstruct those learned prejudices.)

What I find really cool about her character is that despite how much she’s been hurt, she’s also still known as one of the most loving, kind, and considerate characters. There were so many times in her life where the love she received was conditional and ripped away from her– and I think that’s what makes her sacrifice even more poignant. She was able to protect her infant son from an extremely powerful dark wizard, wand-less, knowing that her husband was just murdered in cold blood, just from how much love she felt for Harry. Her love was a force of nature on its own, and I just think that’s such an amazing thing about her.

I know I’m biased, given that she’s one of my favorite characters, but even upon delving into this, I still just find it so incredibly hard to understand how anyone can actively hate her (not indifference, but actual dislike). In my opinion (again, no one is unbiased, and she is a favorite character of mine, but trust me when I say that I’m trying to be objective as possible when I say this), she’s probably one of the most likable characters of the Marauders Era. I think perhaps a lot of people haven’t given her a chance or really taken the time to learn about her character, but it could be a myriad of other reasons that I’ll never understand.

There's so much more I could say but this is long enough and I will stop myself

Lily Evans, u will always be famous to me

#lily evans #character analysis #harry potter #i am a little embarrassed that i got so invested in this. i hope at least one person enjoys this insane essay that no one asked for

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hybbart · 1 year

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I love the way you draw Impulse. He is such a good shape, holding him in my hands

I'm glad because its a real pain to draw him!!! I can't remember right now if I've posted this but I finally properly worked out his design the other week, you see.

In raau he is purely human. In regular art though, it's glamour, cause I love the idea of the Just Some Guy secretly being a big monster. He glamours because if he doesn't people get scared and won't invite him to the barbeque and like all dads he needs the enrichment of grilling burgers for friends to survive.

His design is just supposed to be as "dad who still clings to the 90s" as possible, while his monster form is supposed to be an acid dragon. I spent so long working on it just because I couldnt figure out how to make it look not too detailed, on top of his body type and short hair being the ones I struggle with the most. Basically, I made a design to torture myself with.

#impulsesv #fanart #fantasy #character #ask art #art #sketch #colour #hybbart

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narrativelysignificantturtleduck · 6 months

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something that makes sokka extremely adhd relatable is that he's constantly looking for his Thing, the one Thing he's good at or useful for that makes up for any failings or flaws or ways he just can't measure up to others. at the beginning of the show he defines himself by being the oldest boy in the village & best warrior, but then he gets his ass kicked by zuko and suki and sees aang's raw power and he can't exactly think fighting is his special skill anymore. but he still thinks he has to be defined by fighting ('man of the house' daddy issues) so he calls himself the guy with the boomerang bc that's turned out to be his most useful and versatile and unique weapon, the one that other people can't outclass him at (after all, it's his most successful attack in his fight with zuko). when he loses it in "avatar day" he explicitly says it's like losing a key part of his identity and the moment katara goes "hey you're good at solving mysteries" he's like "yeah! i'm a detective! that's my new thing! and gets a new set of objects to signify it ("i believe in the power of stuff"). but detective sokka doesn't last bc throughout the entire episode he and katara are pretty equally matched in detective skills and he gets his boomerang back anyway. failed experiment.

and throughout all of this, he's figured out that people find his insistance on getting them fed & his grumpy comments funny and so he begins defining himself as the meat and sarcasm guy, and when he's a tough spot in "bitter work", bargaining with the universe to get him help, he offers that up as all he's got to give. it's obviously a Joke that he immediately asks for meat after telling the universe he'll give it up but it's also pretty indicative of how much he clings to these identities. it's all he's got (he thinks), of COURSE he can't actually give it up. they stuck that boy in a hole for 22 minutes and it revealed so much about how he sees himself.

at some point (likely around "the library" when he takes initiative to come up with a fire nation invasion plan) he also becomes the plan guy, the idea guy, and the gaang find themselves looking to him for leadership. this is perhaps the closest to fully encompassing sokka that any of his "[blank] guy" labels get, since coming up with plans involves planning when and how to fight (boomerang guy) & how to get everyone fed (meat), and people not following his plans is a major source of frustration (sarcasm).

this all culminates in "sokka's master", where the show finally names the underlying insecurity driving this quest - that he's a nonbender. katara being the last waterbender meant she was in danger and that keeping her safe was top priority, and even though hakoda and kya wouldn't have played favorites sokka probably felt a little like the unfavorite child for not being special like her. he lacks an ability, and believes his life has less value bc of it. almost like somebody with a disability and internalized ableism

(interesting, one of the people who most consistently mocks sokka for being a nonbender is toph, early on. toph has a lot of internalized ableism herself, a fear of vulnerability bc she doesn't want to perceived as weak like her parents thought she was. her bending is her disability aid, the thing that allows her to be stronger than people think, so she dismisses a nonbender until she learns better.)

piandao's response to sokka's lack of self-worth is not to train him to be great at one thing, but to introduce him to a variety of different arts, show him that his value lies not in having any one skill but in his capacity to learn and grow. there's no single thing that makes him worthy. it isn't even the combination of all of them that makes him worthy. he simply is worthy.

and i don't know if this is a unique narrative in fiction or anything but it really means a lot to me that sokka doesn't have One Thing that "makes up" for him not being a bender. he's of course extremely skilled and prodigious at many things he does in the show but there's no one savant talent that "justifies" him being in the group and i feel like so many disability narratives - especially for kids - go that route and i really appreciate that atla doesn't and simply says people are valuable because they are valuable, not because of their special abilities

#nina's personal log #sokka #seeing 'avatar day' again reminded me i had this in the drafts #ALSO i think toph is a different disability narrative than sokka but also more nuanced than typical this is NOT saying hers is bad #it's very good #nd atla tag

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robinsegghead · 3 months

Text

Danny's Daycare Part 4

[Master List]

Mrs. Bianchi hadn’t been lying when she’d said he would see an influx in children. Within a week of visiting her, he had seven more kids, a total of thirteen. He definitely needed to hire some help- he couldn’t keep duplicating without exhausting his powers and despite Ember’s help, they wouldn’t be able to handle thirteen kids on their own. He could afford to hire help with all the money the Ghost King apparently had.

“Danny!” A happy little shriek sounded from across the room, quickly growing closer. A small body crashed into his leg and a little ‘oomph’ came from the child who fell to the floor. “Danny! Look! Look, look!” Maru, an unusually energetic four-year-old, shoved a picture she’d drawn towards his face.

The picture was of two stick figures, the smaller one was crying, and the bigger one was… comforting her? “Wow, Maru! It’s really creative!” He nodded sincerely. “Who’s that?” He pointed to the bigger stick person, assuming the smaller one was her.

She sighed dramatically. “That’s you silly! Cause I was sad being left home alone all day but now I don’t have to cause mommy said you’re good!”

He masked the frown that threatened to overtake his face when she mentioned being left alone all day. She didn’t want him to be sad, she wanted him to appreciate her art and reassure her that he’d be around for a while, so she didn’t have to be alone. So that’s what he did. “I like having you around too, Maru!” Her story was just like Marco’s. How many other parents left their children home alone all day just so they could afford to put food on the table?

A little bell rang alerting him to someone standing in the entrance. He glanced at his watch (which he’d connected to the very thorough security system) and saw a couple of parents waiting to pick their kids up.

“Allegra! Tommy! Your parents are here!” The two kids groaned, both totally immersed in their activities and not wanting to be dragged away. “Five minutes okay?” He smiled, opening the door for Mrs. Reik and Mia. “They’re finishing up what they’re doing, I’ll grab their bags.”

They’d fallen into a routine, he, and the parents. They would show up, give their children a few minutes to finish what they were doing, and he’d grab their bags (which he often slipped a book, toy, or snack into without their knowing). Tommy’s bag was a little worn down and he made a mental note of the brand and color so he could replace it.

When he made his way back to the two women they were each holding a child. “Danny are you still looking for help?” Mia asked, shifting Allegra on her hip.

He nodded brightly. “Yeah, I haven’t had much time to look, and I don’t know many people yet, so it’s been difficult. If you’re interested or know someone who is, let me know!”

Mrs. Reik thanked him, grabbed her son’s bag, and was on her way, but Mia lingered.

“Do you have applications or…?” She trailed off, embarrassment clinging to her frame.

He nodded, considering the tired look on her face. “I do. It’s mostly a formality,” he moved towards his filing cabinet and pulled out some papers. “and so I can run a background check and such. Do you have experience with kids?”

She shifted Allegra pointedly. “Mama and- and papa were always working. I raised this one and Georgie too. Now that papa is… anyway, mama needs a little help with money and my schooling’s all online, so I was going to start working anyway.”

“Well, fill this out, I’ll run the check, and we should be able to get you working real soon.” The bell rang alerting him to another parent. “You have my number if you have any questions.”

After Mia left most of the parents arrived with the exception of only a few who worked much later. Danny’s daycare was open from seven thirty to six -which was, admittedly, a very long time. But he wanted to be as available as he could for families in need. With Mia’s help he wouldn’t feel so worn down at the end of his eleven-hour day.

And worn down he was. When he got back to his apartment he didn’t even realize it had been infiltrated. Usually he would notice something like that immediately, but Ancients he was tired. So tired he didn’t even react when his eyes finally landed on the vigilantes in his living room. He added two more to his list of people who’d managed to sneak up on him and also a mental note to brush up on his observational skills.

“Oh. Hey.” He nodded slightly, dropping his bag on the ground and crouching to pet the cats, noting Curiosity’s energy. Good, the medicine was working. “Give me a second,” The vigilantes squinted, looking between each other in confusion. “I need coffee.” One of them nodded in understanding, the other sighed dramatically. “You guys want anything?”

“Coffee sounds great.” The red one responded. Red Robin, his subconscious provided.

“Agent A banned you from coffee, Red. “The purple one -Spoiler- groaned.

Red shrugged. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or me. Besides, he offered, it’d be rude to turn him down!”

Deciding this argument had nothing to do with him, Danny began brewing a fresh pot, poured two mugs, and grabbed a water bottle. Returning to the living room he found Red examining his pictures of him and his Fraid, and Purple collapsed into his couch. “You didn’t ask for anything, so I got you water. It’s still sealed.”

She looked touched, grabbing the bottle, unsealing it, and taking a tentative sip. Red didn’t hesitate when grabbing the coffee and taking a large gulp, not even wincing at how hot it was.

“So. What can I do for you guys?” He collapsed into the armchair across from Purple and began sipping on the coffee. Gross, he should have added sugar.

Red squinted. “You don’t seem terribly shocked about our presence.”

Danny shrugged, tiredly. “Hey man, it’s Gotham. I would have been annoyed that you guys broke my four-month streak of not running into any vigilantes or rogues except Nightwing ruined that streak a few nights ago so…”

“You ran into Nightwing?” Red asked.

Before Danny could answer, Spoiler spoke up. “What the hell’s going on with your pants?”

He glanced down, considering the right leg of his jeans which, he now noticed, was covered in doodles, and sighing. “I should know better than to wear my nicer jeans to work, huh? Allegra probably did that while I wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, as fun as this is, I’m sure you didn’t come here for refreshments and conversation?”

“Actually, that’s exactly why we’re here.” Red Robin placed his now empty mug on the coffee table (seriously, how did he drink it that fast? It’s literally a thousand degrees!) and sat beside Spoiler. “Just wanted to get to know the new guy in the Bowery.”

Danny snorted, taking another sip before closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the ceiling. “More like, you wanted to get to know the guy who is doing a good thing for seemingly nothing in return and wondering if it’s a front or if he’s a rogue in the making. Am I right?” He slid one eye open and took in their surprised faces. “I’m not an idiot, I know what I’m doing is going to raise some questions. It took forever to get anyone in the community to trust me.”

“So-”

“Who’s your mystery donor?” Spoiler asked, cutting Red Robin off.

He smirked. “You’re looking at him.”

Tucker had added an egregiously wealthy relative to Danny’s backstory when recreating him. He’d forged a death certificate, a will, bank transfer’s, a charge for cremation and an urn, everything one could need to convince the world that his money was earned in a normal way and not through combat for a ghost throne. He even displayed the urn on a bookshelf in his living room.

The two vigilantes stared, glancing at the run-down apartment, and back to him. “No really, who is it?” Red asked.

Danny rolled his eyes. “I have a pretty big inheritance, just using it for something good. No one would trust me if I told them it was me though, definitely makes me seem like a rogue out to traffic their kids or something. Which,” He looked at them pointedly. “is not the case. I’m just doing what I can as a favor for a friend.”

“Pretty big favor.” Purple whistled.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have free time. But after finishing my bachelor’s and not needing to work, I was getting bored.” Technically, that was only partially true. Danny still spent more than his fair share of time working in the Infinite Realms as their king. But they didn’t need to know that.

The vigilantes looked at each other skeptically before Red spoke again. “You decided to open up an entirely free daycare, paying for everything out of pocket, as a favor to someone because you were bored?”

He shrugged.

“No matter how much money you have that’s not sustainable!” Red threw his hands up in the air.

Danny considered this for a moment, taking another drink. “You know Bruce Wayne?” The two froze only for a moment, so short that it would be hard to catch unless you had experience reading people’s micro expressions. Which he did. “The amount of money I have makes Bruce Wayne look impoverished by comparison. That’s not a brag, it’s disgusting, and I’m trying to get rid of it. So. There. I can keep this daycare running for the rest of my life without putting a dent in my inheritance.”

“How the hell do you have that much money!?” Purple shouted.

“Listen, Purple, can I call you purple? I’ve been calling you Purple in my head this whole time, you didn’t exactly introduce yourselves.” Sure, he knew her name was Spoiler, but she didn’t need to know that. “Anyway, Purple, I inherited the money, don’t ask me how I have so much, ask the guy who gave it to me- well, you can’t, I guess, cause he’s dead, but that’s not the point.” He paused, realizing he’d been going several sentences without breathing which was definitely suspicious. “I have a shit ton of money; my friend raised me better than to be a rich capitalist scumbag so I’m doing my best to make her not hate me for my wealth.”

Maybe that would be enough breadcrumbs to keep them busy for a while and off his back. He was rich, he inherited it from someone who was dead, he had a friend who hated the rich, he might as well give them his social security number and childhood home address while he was at it! Tucker could find someone more mysterious with less.

He heard the distinct voice of a woman coming from their ears (probably a comm?). “You two done with RR’s weird obsession? We have actual crime to deal with.” It was an amused but stern voice, and it reminded him of Jazz the few times she’d joined Tucker on his comms.

Red was grumbling something, but Purple seemed amused. “Well… I’m Spoiler, but Purple is fine too I suppose. Aaaaaand while this has been -fun- and all, we should probably get going. Thank you for answering our questions and for the drinks. Sorry for breaking into your apartment.”

He grunted in response, the exhaustion of the day seeping into his weary bones. The sound of his window sliding open and shut signaled their departure and while he had intended to take a shower and eat dinner, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. This daycare thing was a lot more exhausting than he’d thought it would be.

The thought he’d been having on and off since opening the place up reappeared. How long was he planning to keep this up? He’d done it all on a whim and by the time he realized what he was doing, it was done. He was now the (maybe proud?) owner of a free daycare in the middle of the Bowery and also the king of the infinite realms and how long was he going to be able to do both?

Hiring Mia would help (would he be able to explain Lunch Lady and Ember?) but he had had so many ideas on how to help Gotham, he wanted to do it all. While he wasn’t a true Gothamite, hadn’t grown up here, had barely been here a few months, he’d grown to like the rough city, this wasn’t simply a favor to Lady Gotham anymore. It was something he really wanted to do. The people here needed help; he could provide it.

Teaching some classes at Gotham U could be interesting but he hadn’t decided if he wanted to or not. He already had so much on his plate, could he really add something as big as teaching college level classes? And if he did want to teach, would his teaching be better off at Gotham U or maybe a younger level? If he could hire enough trustworthy people to watch over the daycare and run it themselves, he could work on some of this other plans for Gotham.

Their education was extremely lacking anywhere that wasn’t Gotham Academy (for rich snobs) and he’d double majored in Engineering and Biochemistry, surely his knowledge would be useful to teenagers?

Great. If he followed his usual pattern of following through on whatever whims he had, he was likely to build a whole Ancients damned school in the Narrows next. Although…. It would help with the exorbitant wealth thing….

~~~

Danny had definitely prepared for messes. He’d stocked his cabinets with different cleaning supplies and tools for all kinds of spills. He’d expected food, drinks, and bodily fluids, but he didn’t have a cleaning product to get melted crayon out of carpets- he didn’t even know how Allegra had managed to melt the crayon!

It hadn’t been that big of a deal, honestly, but the carpets were new, and Danny liked when the place looked organized (the same could not be said for his apartment or bedroom) and the large dark red stain on the light blue path of the carpet looked suspiciously like blood which was not a good look for the daycare.

That was how Danny found himself searching the convenience store down the street for some kind of cleaning product for melted crayons. It was only after he’d gone to three convenience/grocery stores in the area that he decided he would make the trip across the river to the Upper East Side and search one of the ‘nicer’ stores.

Despite his desire to get rid of his wealth, he didn’t like shopping at the fancier stores in the area, for the same reason he didn’t live in a penthouse in the Diamond District. He couldn’t help Gotham without putting himself in the shoes of her people. And while he wasn’t truly in their shoes (being an incredibly wealthy king meant he’d never truly understand their suffering) he also refused to live lavishly.

But he really wanted to get the red crayon out of his carpets. There were… so many cleaning products. Staring at the shelves, Danny began mentally crossing out each one he knew wouldn’t work before picking up individual bottles and checking what they were meant for. It took a long time. He was only halfway through the search when he felt someone approaching.

An older man in a suit of some sort (who goes grocery shopping in a suit?) stopped a few steps away, picking up a couple of cleaning products and placing them in his cart. He began to move away before stopping once more.

“I noticed you seem unsure about the cleaning products. Perhaps I could be of assistance?” His tone was polite, but Danny felt a blush spread across his cheeks anyways. He was supposed to be a responsible adult, but he couldn’t even find a cleaning product correctly.

Nodding appreciatively, Danny faced the man. “I need to get melted crayon out of a carpet and apparently my closet of cleaning supplies wasn’t prepared for that.”

The man nodded. “That sounds like quite the mess.” He plucked a bottle from the shelf that Danny had yet to look at. “This will do the trick. Pour a generous amount onto the affected area, let it sit for fifteen minutes, then scrub it out, repeat, and rinse.”

Danny grinned. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m Danny.” He offered the man a hand.

“Alfred Pennyworth, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

They shook hands before Danny stepped away. “Well this is all I needed and I’ve gotta get back to take care of this as soon as possible. I really appreciate your help Mr. Pennyworth.”

“I’m glad I could help you. Have an enjoyable evening, Mr. Danny.”

And an enjoyable evening he had. Once he’d gotten back to the daycare, Danny managed to scrub out the stain (Thank you Mr. Pennyworth) until the carpet looked almost good as new and definitely not like blood had been spilled on it. Afterwards he made his way home with a bit more energy in his step than he was used to.

Jazz had insisted on Danny having one of those large family calendars due to his crazy schedule and tonight being a Thursday night meant it was time to plan out the following weekend and week after. Things were generally the same every week- Daycare from seven thirty to six, Monday through Friday, the evenings were spent recharging, Saturdays he slept in and went to the Infinite Realms from eleven to eleven, Sunday mornings he got brunch with Jazz, Sunday nights was the group call with Tucker, Sam, Val, and Jazz, and then it repeated.

But he hadn’t made it to the soup kitchen in a while and he had really enjoyed volunteering there while the daycare was under construction so tomorrow he was going to get up early, go to the Realms from six to six and make it back in time to help with the dinner crowd. He hadn’t seen the two brothers in a few weeks but there were few days he didn’t think about them.

~~~

Mia was an incredibly helpful addition to the daycare and Danny thanked the Ancients she was so reliable. Although he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her entirely alone at any point throughout the day, he did get to take a few hours in the afternoon to get paperwork done in his office while she watched over the kids. On busier days he wouldn’t even do that. They had eight kids every day, guaranteed, but there were many families with less regular schedules that would drop their kids off once or twice a week and on those days, Danny wouldn’t leave Mia alone for even a moment.

The best part about her was that she didn’t ask questions. She’d taken one look at Lunch Lady, paused, looked at the menu, nodded, and didn’t say a word. When Ember introduced herself Mia acted as though it were a completely normal situation, completely ignoring the green/gray skin and getting to work.

She didn’t work the entire day, he couldn’t (and wouldn’t) ask her to stay for an almost twelve-hour shift. She came in around nine in the morning and left around three, taking Allegra with her. When he told her how much he’d be paying her she nearly had a heart attack, but working with children was a difficult and demanding job and he refused to underpay her for her work.

“Hey boss, you looking for more help around here?” She asked in the middle of cleaning up for naptime on an unusually busy Friday afternoon.

He dumped his armful of toys into the bin and pushed his hair out of his face. He really needed a haircut. “Yeah. Your help has been great, but I’m hoping to eventually have enough people here that I don’t have to actually be here all day every day anymore, you know?” She nodded thoughtfully. “You have someone in mind?”

She wiped down the tables still covered in crumbs from snack time and took a moment before responding. “I have a friend who mentioned an interest. He doesn’t live around here but he’s a friend. I’ve known him a long time, he’s good people.”

He shrugged. “Give him an application and I’ll look it over. And if you’ve got more friends like that, feel free to give them applications too. Like I said, I’m looking to hire quite a few people. Although, I’d like to hire people slowly, make sure everyone gets trained well and gets along before hiring another person.”

She hummed in agreement and at the end of her shift took three application packets, stuffing them into Allegra’s backpack before picking the girl up and toting her away. Mrs. Reik was the last person to pick her son up that day and she ended up staying a bit to chat.

“I can’t tell you how helpful your daycare has been for our family.” She started, a sentiment that many of the parents had conveyed to him many times. “I was wondering if you’d like to come by for dinner sometime, so we can properly thank you?” Her offer was shy, slightly guarded, but definitely genuine.

He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. He’d been told that his smiles could be unnerving (too many teeth) so he channeled all the appreciation he could into this one while still keeping it small. “I would love to, Mrs. Reik.”

“Oh please, call me Diane. Would next Friday work? My husband will be home all day with Tommy, and he makes a mean lasagna.”

As long as his food didn’t come back to life, he wasn’t too picky about it. “That sounds great. The daycare is open until six, is seven all right?”

“That’s perfect. Thank you again, Mr. Nightingale.”

“Please, if I’m going to call you Diane, you can call me Danny.”

Apparently, Jazz was right, making friends wasn’t so difficult. The formula was as easy as opening a free daycare, putting yourself out there, befriending every person you meet so they spread the word about you and your business, and working twelve hours a day five days a week chasing after energetic demons. Easy.

~~~

The good part about being able to open portals to the Infinite Realms was that he didn’t need to wake up extra early to get to work. He rolled out of bed (which he’d actually made it to before taking one of his power naps, thank Ancients) at 6:02 in the morning, ripped open a portal, transformed, and BAM! He was at work.

Stepping directly into his office (seriously he needed to get rid of a few offices how did he have so many?), he settled in for a few hours of paperwork before taking a break. He had quite a few requests to schedule a time to spar which he scheduled first- putting those off only meant his rogues would come find him and he didn’t want to explain to Gotham why he was fighting ghosts- before moving onto other matters.

The Observants knew not to bother Danny in his office after an incident where Danny had refused to do work for a day for every disturbance he received. It was a three weeklong strike that finally ended in them leaving him alone and Danny eventually catching up on his paperwork.

Three hours later he experienced a moment he thought he’d never see. There wasn’t any paperwork on his desk. He was free! Free! Standing up in the hopes to leave the Infinite Realms early, a pile of paperwork materialized in front of him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Collapsing back into his chair, Danny regretted every moment of his miserable life. He just had to stop Pariah from destroying the world, didn’t he? But guess what, Danny? No world, no paperwork! He could be nonexistent right now, oblivion, dead, but instead, he was half dead and one hundred percent responsible for copious amounts of paperwork.

There would be no rest for the dead it seemed.

Prev. Next

#fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom/jason todd #danny's daycare #dp x dc #dead on main #Infinite realms #alfred pennyworth

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

Text

Taxi Cab

Hobie Brown x f!Reader

She would never hurt anyone. He would hurt anyone for her.

Before Hobie, nothing very eventful ever happened in my life. I grew up in a happy home, went to a good school, and decided to become an art teacher. I got good grades, I made life long friendships with people similar to me, and I kept my head down and minded my business.

Though it's been nearly half a year since he came rocketing into my life, I still can't put my finger what exactly drew Hobie to me. We don't have a lot in common. Where I am passive, Hobie is active and fierce. Where I am lenient, Hobie is harsh. Until Hobie, I had never listened to punk music, considered anarchy, or pierced a single thing on my body.

Well, I still haven't done the last one. Besides my ears. Needles are too much for me. Sometimes I get nervous that the spikes on Hobie's wardrobe are going to stick me.

Hobie is a force. He's dangerous, he's passionate, he's larger than life. Being near Hobie is addictive. He has a gravity around him that draws people in, but it tends to spit them out at much the same rate.

For some reason, I've been able to hang on. Sometimes it feels like clinging for dear life, until he reminds me how much he cares.

Even though he can do that in odd ways.

Like tonight.

Ever since I met Hobie, trouble seems to follow me around. I've been mugged twice, had my tires slashed, and even had to move because someone broke into my apartment and trashed the place.

My parents are becoming increasingly alarmed, only satisfied in the fact that Spider-Punk always seems to be nearby. They don't necessarily approve of Spider-Punk (I mean, most don't), but they do at least appreciate that he seems to be looking out for me.

Which is so weird! Hobie can't figure it out either, but he says Spider-Punk is a narcissistic asshole who only saves people to get attention for himself.

He might just be mad that I said I thought Spider-Punk seemed like he'd be cute, under the mask.

I was hoping my luck had turned around and I wouldn't need to run into Spider-Punk again for a while, but I guess that was just silly optimism. On my way to Hobie's with two large bags of groceries in hand, I'm stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk when a taxi cab crashes directly into a fire hydrant.

The fire hydrant lets loose a typhoon of water in my direction, and I scramble to the right to get out of the water, but it's too late. I'm soaked.

"Oi!" I hear the unmistakable sound of Hobie yelling. He was heading my direction after I told him the bags were getting heavy, and arrived just in time to witness the crash. He wrenches open the door of the car and pulls out the taxi driver. He seems unharmed, a little shaken up, with heavy bags under his eyes and a wobble in his step.

Drunk or high.

"You could've killed someone!" Hobie is shouting, looking over at me and then back at the driver. "I ought to kick your fucking arse." He pushes the man against the side of his cab as the water continues to spray. I drop the groceries, mostly ruined now, and approach Hobie.

The man is muttering something under his breath, and as I reach them, I can smell the liquor coming through his pores.

I grab Hobie's arm. "I'm okay. Come on."

"No, I saw it, he nearly killed you, Y/N. Just a few feet over, you'd be gone. Then I'd have to fuckin' kill him!" Hobie slams him against his car one more time, and I pull on his arm harder.

"But he didn't. The cops are on their way. Let's go. I need help carrying the groceries, and it's too cold for me to be all wet."

Hobie looks at me finally, really looks at me, and then with one more burning glance at the inebriated taxi driver, gruffly releases his collar and turns to me.

Effortlessly, he scoops me up into his arms, bridal-style, and I gasp. He strides with ease over to our drowned groceries, and bends down, picking them up in his hands.

"Jesus, have you been working out?" I ask.

His face is too tense for a smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch. Despite my protests, he carries me into his building and up three flights of stairs, only setting me down once we are safe inside the walls of his apartment.

Without me asking, he goes into his room and brings out a pair of leggings I've left here before, and one of his t-shirts. I change in the bathroom, drying my hair as best I can with a towel, before going back to the kitchen to see what can be salvaged of the groceries.

"I think I can still do something with this! The bread is gone but, homemade bread crumbs aren't like, necessary. They're just fancy." I turn to see Hobie leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, still scowling. "Uh, or I can go to the store, if the homemade bread crumbs were like, important."

I let out a yelp of surprise when Hobie pushes himself off the counter and strides towards me, grabbing me by the shoulders and bringing me to him for a rough, passionate kiss.

In moments, I meld into him, wrapping my arms around his waist as his fingers find their way into my hair, and his tongue enters my mouth.

This kiss feels different. Urgent, feverish, desperate. He holds me tightly, pressing me so close to him it feels like he wants us to be one person, like he would climb right into my skin.

I pull away for just a moment, gasping for breath. "Are you okay?" I say on an exhale.

Hobie stares down at me intensely, his hands still in my hair, his eyes wild and the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"I would do anything to keep you safe," he says flatly. "There's no limit to what I'd do."

I bring my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks, nodding. "I know, Hobie."

"I would have killed that man if you hadn't stopped me."

I know he's exaggerating to make a point, but a chill runs up my spine a the way he says it so calmly, with no hint of irony. I remember his chest heaving, the wild look in his eyes as he held that drunk man up against his own car.

He looked out for blood.

"I'm okay, Hobie. So are you."

"Move in with me. You hate that new place. Stay here."

We've only known each other six months. We're barely adults. I make no money as a new teacher and I honestly haven't figured out how Hobie seems to make so much money off the gigs he plays. It's too soon to move in together. It's not smart.

But I love him. And he loves me. We haven't said it yet, but I don't know that we need to. I can see it in his eyes, feel it while he holds me, taste it on his lips.

He loves me.

"Okay."

"Today. Like, we can get your stuff later, but don't sleep there anymore. Stay with me."

I nod and lean forward, pressing my forehead to his chest. His hands finally leave my hair, and wrap tightly around my shoulders. I listen to his heartbeat - rapid at first, but as we stand there, silently clinging to each other, it begins to slow down.

He's pressing soft kisses to the top of my head, humming quietly, and I've never felt more in love.

I've never felt more cared for, more loved in return, more safe.

Six months or sixty years. I don't think it matters.

#hobie brown #Hobie brown x reader #Hobie brown x you #Hobie brown fluff #Hobie brown fic

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crushedgraham · 8 months

Note

18+ request: in modern/au, fem!reader and Alcina are married and she's a college professor and she's on a zoom call and reader tries to break her composure, like eating her out underneath her desk?

thank you!!!

Getting that A

Pairings: Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Summary: Alcina seems stressed, so much paperwork and now a lecture over zoom? It only seems right as her wife to try and lighten her load - on your knees.

Warnings: Roleplaying, a little degradation, exhibitionism, Modern AU

There are very few people who would willingly listen to two hours worth of art history, but when the lessons were taught by your goddess of a wife? Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe it was the way the vocabulary rolled off her silver tongue or perhaps the designer glasses that sat perched perfectly on the ridge of her angular nose. You couldn’t care for the reason, all you knew was that you were married to the sexiest professor in all of Romania (possibly the world) and she was missing from her rightful spot between your thighs.

Your knuckles knocked quickly against the deep mahogany wood of Alcina’s office door, followed by a distant “Come in.”

Pushing open the heavy door, your eyes immediately fixate on Alcina’s powerful figure sitting behind her desk. You shoo the lustful thoughts away as you note the stacks of paper scattered across the desk along with a pale finger rubbing at her brow bone - a habit you’ve come to know when your wife is particularly stressed.

“Draga? Is everything alright?” You’re snapped out of your own little world by weary blue eyes searching yours.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I brought your lunch up since you skipped breakfast.”

She resumes her incessant scribbling as you gently rearrange a few papers to make room for the tray. “How sweet of you, my love. Thank you.”

Though she made no move to react any further, her eyes remained glued to the documents. Taking this as a challenge, you saunter around the desk until you're by your wife’s side. Your hands glide along the neatly rolled sleeves that cling just enough to her forearms, up to her tense shoulders where your fingers press into a tight knot at the base of her neck. Alcina’s reaction is immediate, her hand stilling, her long eyelashes fluttering shut and the sinfully low groan that rumbles deep from within her chest.

“You’ve been working so hard, take a break, baby.” Your breath tickles the shell of her ear and you punctuate the end of your sentence with a nip at her earlobe.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, I have a zoom lesson in five minutes.” Her tone is threatening but all it does is make you want her more.

Alcina was a very experimental woman and that extended into your sex life. There was a particular kink that you knew she had that had been untouched for quite some time. This was quite a fitting situation to strike at it.

“I’m sure I could help you de-stress and listen to the lecture at the same time, professor.”

Her eyes meet yours, silently asking if this is what she thought it was, all you offer is a cheeky grin as you kneel like a saint at the feet of their goddess - you were always ready to worship your lady.

“Let me help you, professor, please?”

The space underneath her desk is slightly larger than an average sized desk because Alcina was anything but average. From this angle, she got a wonderful view of your cleavage that your tight dress top did little to conceal. She might not outwardly express it but the dilation of her pupils was all the encouragement you needed to nuzzle your cheek against the cold metal of her belt buckle - your hands groping and squeezing the strong muscle of her thighs.

Alcina tuts at your neediness, “Such a slut. Well go on, prove yourself useful and I just might let you pass.” She goes back to work, now clicking away at her computer to get the zoom meeting ready.

You unbuckle her belt with vigor, dropping it on the floor with a soft thud when it makes contact with the plush rug that aids your exposed knees that will surely bruise after this. The button on her suit pants is stubborn and takes a bit of cautioned yanking that earns you a glare but you undo it nonetheless. You tug the pants down just below her knee caps, revealing her lacy black underwear. Alcina spares you one last glance before clicking the “start meeting” button, students knowing your wifes strict rule of punctuality, begin flooding into the meeting.

The heady smell of her arousal mixed with the accents of her perfume and cigarettes mix to create an aphrodisiac that only you would ever witness. Shuffling forward, you press your tongue flat against the wet patch that stains the center of her underwear. The faint taste adds to the burning heat between your own thighs. Hungry for more, you yank the delicate lace to the side - a moan nearly slipping out from your lips as the sight of Alcina’s puffy, wet pussy is on full display for you.

Her voice, deepened by her lust, begins the lecture but it sounds worlds away to you. Your wife is notorious for her powerful voice, which is just as commanding and boisterous in bed. And as much as you’d love to make her scream your name - you didn’t want the undeserving students in the call to witness what solely belongs to you. To avoid this, you begin by slowly cleaning the insides of her thighs where her slick has collected. Your tongue trails up the sides of her cunt, narrowly missing her soaked folds. Alcina glares down at you over the rim of her half-moon glasses, her nostrils flaring from the teasing that she couldn’t stop you from carrying out.

But for both your sanities, you finally relent. Pressing your tongue against her swollen clit draws a shaky exhale through her nose and a feather light whimper from yourself. Your tongue stays there, drawing little circles before dipping down to taste her straight from the source. Above you, Alcina digs her manicured nails into the top of her desk in an effort to keep her tone even. Yet when you stuff your tongue inside her, her composure quickly begins to crack. Her velvety walls clench against your slick muscle as you work it in and out of her needy slit, her body twitching as the tip of your tongue presses against the spongey little spot inside her that you know all too well.

Alcina quickly asks a question, allowing one of her students to answer, giving her a brief moment to focus on your motions. Her hand sneaks down to thread between your locks, her grip is tight and the sharp points of her nails scrape against your scalp ever so slightly. The added pressure to your head pushes your face further into her pussy, your nose now rubbing just right against her clit. The new friction against her clit mixed with the scandalous situation sends her to the brink of cumming embarrassingly fast. A large black pump gets thrown over your shoulder, the heel digging into your shoulder blade. The burn from both the heel and her nails along with your own arousal that drips from underneath your skirt encourages you to ignore the aching in your jaw and fuck your wifes dripping cunt faster.

“I apologize but a family emergency has c-come up. I will pick up from where we ended next week.” Her rushed excuse doesn’t register in your head but the obscenely loud moan after she ends the meeting does.

You get one last thrust in before her walls start twitching, constricting your tongue - forcing you to helplessly take the coating and gushing of cum. It clings to your tongue as you pull it out from her pulsing cunt, taking a long pause to enjoy the taste as it slides down your throat when you swallow.

“So professor, how was that? Surely A plus worthy.” You question smugly.

Alcina rests her head back against the leather headrest of her plush office chair, her eyes shut as she basks in the afterglow of her orgasm.

“Perhaps a B minus at best.”

An offended and quite appalled gasp rips from your drenched lips as you stare incredulously at her. She opens one eye to look down at you, her face completely neutral before she cracks a grin, little giggles tumbling out before they turn into full laughs.

“Joking, darling! I can’t help myself when you react so adorably.” She rolls her chair back to give you enough space to lift you up into her lap. You refuse to look at her, your bottom lip pushed out in a pout and your arms crossed securely over your chest.

“Oh? Is my little dove upset with me? What a shame, I only give rewards to those who don’t pout and ignore their amazing wives.” Alcina noses along the curve of your neck, red lips passing the color of her expensive lipstick onto your skin. Her fingers deftly reach under your skirt to trace your cunt through your thoroughly soaked panties.

“I- I want a-an A..!” You whine out.

Watching Alcina unravel so beautifully nearly brought you to your own orgasm, untouched. Still, you were turned on and your sensitivity was cranked all the way up. A throaty chuckle reverberates against your skin.

“And you got your A, Dragul meu.” She rises to press her lips against yours in a slow kiss, she invades your mouth, moaning into the kiss at the taste of herself. Though the moment is broken when the sound of the front door opening followed by the loud bickering of your three daughters echoes into the large office. You drop your head onto Alcina’s chest with a groan.

“I didn’t even get to cum…”

“We both need a shower, perhaps I could give you your reward there.”

That was all you needed before you were booking it to your bathroom connected to your bedroom. Alcina shaking her head in amusement at your antics while redressing.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village

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mrs-snape5984 · 2 months

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“There is a light and it never goes out…”

“Take me out tonight. Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care, I don’t care, I don’t care…” (“There’s a light that never goes out” by The Smiths)

Overstimulation. Disorientation. Light sensitivity. Chronic pain. Fatigue. These are only a few of those symptoms, which are torturing me day in and day out for the past two years, already. Due to them, caused by a disease, that is called “Myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome” (ME/CFS), I’m currently forced to live a life within the strict confines of my dark and silent room, mostly enduring my daily existence in solitude.

I miss being a part of this world….and fuck, I miss being a part of other people’s lives! Living like this makes me feel like an old piece of furniture, which has been stored away in a hidden chamber…not worthy enough to be used or seen by anyone, and yet still not bad enough to be discarded.

Some months ago, two wonderful people started taking me out to see their worlds by sending me pictures and videos of the places, they’re heading to. Thanks to them, I’m allowed to get a glimpse of places, I’ve always dreamed of being able to explore them on my own.

Furthermore, something else became apparent whenever one of these precious gems of human nature took me with them: I wasn’t just carried around in their phones, but they carried me in their hearts. This realisation blew my mind! It’s not only me, who’s clinging to them as if they’re my lifelines…no, this little German mess, that I am, became important to these people, too! Words can’t express how grateful I am for our connections…and that I was also lucky enough to find true love in this bond (I love you, R. 🖤).

One of those amazing people is my beloved sister in Christ @vulnus-sanare, who will soon come to visit me in my small world. Finally, I’ll be the one, who can show her the beauty of the tiniest things in my environment…always surrounded by the securing gloominess of the nights. Magda, my heart, I’m going to introduce you to the stars above my town, to the soothing sounds of the Moselle River right next to my house and I hope, we will manage to experience the mesmerising dance of the bats in the vineyards, if we take my wheelchair with us. I can’t wait to have you here and pull you into the tightest of all embraces, sweetie!

I’ve commissioned my dear friend @snake-queen7 to create this breathtaking piece of art of Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules on a nocturnal walk through the vineyards behind my house. Before I caught ME/CFS, I used to enjoy these nightly strolls in order to watch the bats with my children, so I sent her a photo of the exact spot, I want to share with Magda. Since it was Severus and Snapedom, which brought us together, it’s only fair to bring our beloved dungeon bat to this special place as well.

My friend, I’m more than happy with the outcome of your artwork and it’s a pleasure to share it with all those lovely people of our Snapedom. Please take my apologies for taking so long to write this post, but I wanted to honour your work the way, it deserves to be honoured. For this reason, I had to wait patiently for a moment, when my brain wouldn’t refuse me to do its job (brain fog is such a pain in the ass!). Thank you for everything, Natalia! 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 years

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The Royal Blood Pt. 2

Male Yandere Vampire x Gender Neutral Vampire Reader (CW: Dub-con, vampires, vampirism, blood, blood drinking, minor character death, general yandere behavior, marriage, oral sex, smut.) Word Count: 2.1k (Sorry if this is not as good as part one, I still tried to make it nice, I hope everyone enjoys. I know I kinda rushed writing it and it may not be my best work. Art of Ericke made by the ever amazing @reiyn02) Part 1 can be found here: The Royal Blood Pt. 1

It had been months since Prince Ericke had turned you into a fellow vampire. You had been traumatized by your sudden transformation, dark cravings, and the death of Owen, who had been your only friend. You became more quiet and withdrawn at his loss. You had tried to go without blood a couple different times but each time it turned you near feral and all Ericke had to do once you got to that point was hold a chalice of blood up to your lips and you instinctively swallowed down every drop, unable to prevent yourself from giving in. You hated being a monster. And you desperately wanted to hate Ericke just as much, if not more, but as much as you tried you could not help but feel the torturous flutter of butterflies in your belly every time he held you. Any animosity towards him that you managed to muster just melted away with a simple touch of his hand. Despite your amorous feelings for the prince, you would probably still have tried to escape again anyway, but he was smart. He knew you would not leave now that you were turned, you did not want to hurt anyone and you could not stand the thought of extracting a human’s blood yourself. So with him you would remain Mercifully, he always got blood for you so you never had to feed from someone yourself, and instead of him getting it from random villages he now collected it from prisoners sentenced to die or those who were in there for life. Even if they somehow found out they were being fed upon, who would believe them? He had also remained true to his promise, instead of his poorly and conflictingly treated servant he treated you like the most precious treasure owned by any member of the royal family. And, aside from when he was gathering blood, he kept you with him constantly. Meetings, meals, outings, everywhere he was you were surely by his side with your hand in his as he gently thumbed the brand mark that denoted you as belonging to him. You were always quiet and subservient to whatever he wanted to do and went with him willingly. He was not too concerned with your reticence. The fact that you were so good and obedient and always at his side was enough for him at the moment, besides he could hear the way your heartbeat picked up when he held you, he knew you would liven up and love him openly eventually. Ericke also figured you would need some time to get used to being around other nobles and people of wealth and importance. And he was not wrong, it was very nerve wracking to be surrounded and judged by people who felt like you were as dirt on their shoes. The party he held for the announcement of his engagement and to introduce you to the people of high society was a good example. There were so many people all muttering and staring in your direction during the entire event. “Don’t worry babe, you’ll be fine, you’re better than any of them anyway.” You literally clung, much to your fiancé's delight, to Ericke’s arm the entire time as he whispered in your ear pointing out who was who and little details about them. It was a miserable time for you, you had to greet them all individually and you could practically feel the scorn they all had for you, particularly the ones who had had plans to court or be courted by your prince. As if you had even asked for it. After you had been introduced to everyone and greeted them all individually you stayed only as long as was required by polite society standards before Ericke rushed the two of you out and back to his chambers. As much as Ericke had enjoyed you clinging to him for dear life because of your anxiety he knew it was time to go when your beautiful eyes threatened to cry. “You did really great, baby doll.” He kissed you gently on the forehead and pulled you into his lap after he sat on the bed. You started sobbing but he held you close and wiped all your tears away. “Shhh, you did fine, I don’t care what they think anyway. I know how wonderful you are.” He held you tighter. You did care about how they saw you though. So many people judging and hating you just for taking the handsome Prince Ericke Ashfall off the market and for being lowborn while doing it. Your super sensitive ears even picked up Lady Caroway, head of her house, making absolutely terrible comments about you, someone she had scarcely met. But your dearly betrothed had heard those comments too. And Lady Caroway had gone mysteriously missing. You knew what had happened, the blood he served you that day was clearly identifiable as hers by the scent. You did not let on that you knew what he had done to defend your honor, but you were very cuddly and clingy that night. It was the first time you ever graced his cheek with a kiss. Ericke could tell you knew though, he made a mental note to give you the blood of anyone you could hear insulting you in an overly cruel manor. You probably should have been mortified that he had killed someone so casually just for being mean to you, but honestly you were more worried about why you appreciated it so much. Maybe it was just part of being a vampire. Or maybe it was partly due to drinking blood, it always seemed to make you a bit more clingy. Maybe it was just that after he had kept you captive and forced you into a life of vampirism your brain latched on to any shred of decency he showed you. Whatever the reason, defending you in such a way really made you start to appreciate him a lot more. Ericke was pleased that you were less quiet and had started to open up to him more. It made planning the wedding a whole lot easier, he did not do a single thing without asking for your opinion or input, though he did have to deny you your request for a smaller ceremony. This was his chance to show the entire kingdom how much he loved his darling, his chance to cement once and for all in the jealous minds that envied you that it was you he valued above any of them. And when the big day came no one could claim it was anything less than spectacular. The color scheme of course matched the royal family’s colors, purple and white. Even in your mounting anxiety you had to admit everything looked astonishingly beautiful. A rug had been placed down the length of the grand hall, white with purple trim. It alone was surely worth more than the entire hovel that you used to live in. The normal chandelier had been swapped out and now there was a new gleaming silver chandelier hanging from the roof, three ringed tiers of candles, two rings of candles were white and the center ones were purple. All the candles produced a brilliant violet light, casting the entire room in a surreal amethyst glow. Banners that bore the royal crest, in the same colors as the rest of the décor, now hung from the walls. Curtains that usually concealed the windows had been drawn back to reveal a lovely view of the full moon that adorned the clear night sky and of the black pond below that reflected the moonlight perfectly in its still waters. Two large tables on each side of the room were completely covered by food and drinks of all kinds imaginable for the reception. It was all truly magical. You trembled nervously but managed to collect yourself and focus on performing the bonding ceremony. You each took one side of a silver ribbon and tied it together before kissing one another deeply on the lips. This was the first time you had kissed him upon the lips. It felt exhilarating, amazing, and right. The festivities after that lasted well into the night, but when they finally faded away Prince Ericke took you into his arms with that surprising strength of his and carried you all the way to your shared bed chamber. He placed you delicately upon the bed, as if you were a fragile snowflake that would melt at the slightest touch. Ericke then locked the door and lit all the candles in the room before crawling above you. “Now for the real bonding baby doll.” Before you could ask what he meant his mouth was at your neck, the familiar graze of his fangs ghosted your sensitive skin before he slowly sank into you and drank of your cursed blood. You moaned loudly and unexpectedly, this felt so much better than when he fed on you when you were a human. You were a bit light headed when he finished drinking from you and lifted your head to his neck. You were not keen to bite someone, but you let your instincts take over as you followed his lead. Your top canines elongated into fangs and you carefully bit your new husband and suckled from his wound. He had to stifle a moan. When you were done you were blushing and felt very warm. Almost dizzy. It was amazing. You didn’t know that when two vampires feed from one another it binds them together in a manner far more intimately than sex or a mere mortal marriage ever could. It was a connection that only two vampires in love could ever possibly share. It was worth being a vampire to experience this. Even so you both still wanted to make love and you pulled him close and grinded your crotch against his as he kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you shared the flavors of your blood with one another. He ended the kiss and began to disrobe before removing your clothing. He had seen you naked before, but you had never been more beautiful to him, laying there in a beam of moonlight, your blood and his smeared on your lips, eagerly waiting for him to enter you. Ericke kissed and licked from your waist to your crotch, licking what he found there tenderly. He intended to take his time, he had waited for this moment with his darling for a long time and he wanted to savor it. His mouth work was a bit sloppy, he was the prince and not used to servicing someone in such a way, but what he lacked in experience he made up for with enthusiasm. You stroked his hair as his mouth kept busy working on you before finally making you cum hard all over his face. He wiped his face and licked his fingers and your crotch clean. “By the gods, (Y/N), that was even better than your blood.” Ericke took a bottle of oil and lubed the both of you up really well until he was sure he could slide in you easily, he tested your entrance with a couple of carefully placed fingers to stretch you out and ready it for him. When he was certain he would not harm you he lined his cock up with your hole and slid into you with a sigh of contentment. Your insides were so warm. And all for him. The thought almost made him blow his load right then and there. He slid his length back and forth at a steady rhythm inside you as his hands held your hips. A scarlet blush spread upon his pale flesh seeing your pleasure-drunk face and knowing he was the cause, he was the source of that joy and ecstasy you were feeling. Your prince grabbed your hips and began to go a bit faster, careful not to go too fast and end things too soon, he wanted to ingrain the sight of you laying there beneath him for the first of many times into his brain until the day the world crumbled into dust. He leaned close and began sucking your neck where he bit you previously, not to suck your blood this time, just to mark you. A second orgasm made your body quiver as he continued targeting your neck with his affections, after you came though he could only hold back his own climax a few more seconds before unloading his nuts deeply into you. After a moment for both of you to catch your breath he went to start a bath for the both of you. He laughed to himself, reminded of the night he first brought you here, when he was afraid to admit his attraction to you, it all seemed so silly now since after he worked so hard to make you his in every possible way.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere exo #yandere vampire #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere husband #vampire husband #vampire boyfriend #My OCs #my OC Prince Ericke Ashfall

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