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bruisedboys · 10 months

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love drunk — miguel o’hara x reader

summary — while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here

grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first ‘I love you’ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff

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implied fem!reader 1.3k words

Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.

“Y/N,” he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. “Come on. Get off me.”

You’re dead weight in his lap. He wouldn’t mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only you’re in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peter’s looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.

“Whyyyyy?” You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare that’s about as menacing as a puppy. “You’re so mean.”

Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where they’d been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when you’re like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.

“C’mon, get up,” he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.

To Miguel’s surprise, you don’t flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.

“What?” He asks you, genuinely confused.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, frowning to yourself. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not mean.”

Miguel blinks at you. “Oh. No, that’s not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you don’t actually think I’m mean.”

Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. “Oh, okay. Can I get back on you now?”

Miguel actually laughs. He’s very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesn’t, mostly because you’re very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.

“You’re funny, cariño,” he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much they’re half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, “No, you can’t get back on me—“ Your face falls, “—But I can take you to bed?”

Your smile comes back so quick it’s alarming, and you nod vehemently. “Yeah, please.”

Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peter’s, he can’t remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. It’s just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. He’s discovering you’re a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really can’t hold your liquor. He’s only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though he’s pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.

He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he can’t bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament they’ve caught their haughty boss in.

“Hey, Miguel,” Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. “Hey, Y/N.” She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, “Early night?”

It’s almost midnight. Miguel can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. She probably is. “Yeah.”

“Miguel’s taking me to bed,” you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadn’t meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. He’ll be sure to set the record straight once you’re safe and alone in his room.

Jess laughs loud. “Right. Well, have fun with that.”

She’s still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. He’s not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.

“What is it, cariño?” He hums.

“Can you carry me? My feet are sore.”

Miguel indulges you. Partly because you’d asked and he’s yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because you’re slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that it’d hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.

By the time he gets you to his room you’re half asleep in his arms. He’d let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before you’re grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, eyes half closed.

Miguel pries your hand away gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.”

You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as he’s back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you don’t try anything, even when you’re completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebody’s trying to take him away from you.

He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like you’re about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back you’ve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks you’re asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.

“Miguel…” you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned you’re not feeling well. He hopes you’re not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he can’t say he’d mind looking after you even if you were.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. It’s dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. “Thank you for looking after me … I love you.”

Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water he’s holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.

He knows you probably won’t remember it in the morning, but it’s been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.

Miguel waits til he’s sure you’re asleep to say it back — vulnerability’s never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. “I love you too, mi amor.”

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arijackz · 2 months

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PICK A CARD: What are your most alluring qualities?

🂺 "Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." ~ Edgar Allen Poe~

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is meant to help uplift your spirit and highlight qualities about you that transcend space and time and manage to energetically get picked up by lil ol' me. Who then tries to put that inexplicable beauty into words. :)

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

☀︎ Pile One ☀︎ (nine of cups, magician rev., moon rev.,hanged man, page of cups, queen of cups)

⇾ Pink. Yellow. Fuzzy. This feels so warm, there's heat around my waist. Maybe you’re a dancer? Do you like to wear very big pullovers or extra garments around your waist? Corsets? I’m getting a strong emphasis with an attraction toward your waistline. Also, a very airy feeling in my ribs. ⇾ You’re fucking hilarious. Your ability to uplift any room’s vibe is extremely attractive. Strong water energy, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, 4th, 8th, 12th house. But not as emotionally heavy. Not the thunderstorm but the sunny, dewy morning after. Literal sunshine. You may have a signature scent. Coconut, vanilla, brown sugar. Before shuffling your cards, my nose was congested but while I was channeling, I had these moments where air would pass through the room, clear my sinuses, and the tingling feeling in my ribs came back. ⇾ You’re a high. A nice clean, mellow high. The brief moments in time when your body completely relaxes and you start flowing with the wind. People are addicted to how you make them feel. Your energy feels like the first hit of that oui. wink wink. People get a hit of your energy and it feels like an escape. This is my intuitive and sensitive dreamy pile. There is a lot of emotional depth here, you’re enigmatic. Being in your presence transports people to a simpler time in their lives. A period where the sun shined brighter, the air was cleaner, and all the color in the world felt more vivid. People can sense the storm raging in the back of your head but can visually see your perseverance and ability to not let darkness rot you, keeping this light and airy energy. It’s almost superhuman, you almost seem not real. You’re impossibly infectious. ⇾ You have a lot of natural inner abundance, you attract a lot in life even if you don’t realize it. I’m getting moksha house energy, a strong wheelhouse of influential power. The duality of your sweet, caring but reserved introspective nature is sexy as fuck, to be honest. It is hypnotizing and ignites people. I also see you have attractive skin, whether it’s clear, glowy, or cute moles, I'm not sure. But something about your skin people just can’t help but want to trace and admire. Jupiter/Pisces energy. Sugary sweet and in your own world, I feel like I have a toothache. Rare kind and light energy. Your attractiveness and romantic influence on people is one of your natural talents pile 1. I can see that with the Jupiterian energy I'm getting. You got 3 major arcana cards back to back. You’re a light in the dark and people are moths to a flame.

"You're pretty like a memory"

☀︎ Pile Two ☀︎ (ace of swords, the tower, knight of swords, 6 of swords rev, the magician, 3 of wands)

⇾ Well for starters, you’re SEXXXYYYY. Not just physically, but your wit, intelligence…people’s attraction to you gives me the image of Joan of Arc’s admirers. People perceive you as gorgeous, brave, and intimidatingly capable. ⇾ I’m getting Uranian energy, Yes, something about you is very mercurial, but this is next level. In modern astrology, Uranus is a higher octave of Mercury and symbolizes putting these higher-level ideas into action. Your ability to think of a goal and go after it is attractive. Or have a belief and fiercely defend it. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you have an innate ability to monetize or profit off of your ideas and skills. Especially with all this sword energy, the 3 of wands, AND the magician. Mane, you make shit HAPPEN. You make shit shake. A lot of people say they’re going to do things they have no intention of starting or say things they don’t actually believe. You are a rare exception to that. You put your money where your mouth is, and the amount of willpower and intelligence you possess is intimidating yet so very very attractive. ⇾ There’s gotta be some major concentration in your natal chart, a stellium, a reoccurring modality, sign, not sure but your energy is uniquely focused and intense. You may sometimes battle with excess mental energy. Anxiety, overthinking, etc. You’re a harbinger of change. Wherever you go, major changes follow and there is something very important about your energy. Your footprint in this world is larger than the average person’s. Your sense of self and your loyalty to your authenticity and values is highly admirable. *whispers* maybe even enviable, watch out for negative intentions and trust your discernment. ⇾ Whether you’re a man or woman watching this, you intimidate a lot of men. You’re the creme of the crop so to speak. You are the human embodiment of a warrior. Strategic, brave, and your fire cannot be dimmed. You have this eternal energy to you. Your name will be sung long after you leave this Earth. There will be tales and songs about you. There is an emphasis on making a change and legacy here, 10th house/ Capricorn Energy. Solar and Jupiterian energy is possible too, there's a lot of king semblance here. I feel like your frame is very attractive. Defined muscles especially around your neck and shoulders. Fox attractiveness. Sharp features, or some special emphasis with your lips, jaw, and teeth. There is a lot of sexual attraction in this pile. I was shuffling and getting flashes of old Wattpad enemies to lovers and dark academia rivalry fanfiction 😭😭. I’m getting a headrush. Maybe you feel like a headrush to people at times. You might look good in darker, cool-tone colors or have dark hair. ⇾ You make people aware of their shortcomings and that triggers them. You trigger strong emotions in people. People see you as superior to many, you’re either singled out in a crowd positively or negatively. People either love or hate you but it is undeniable that you are sexy and very fucking capable. You also have the ace of wands at the bottom of the deck…like I said…sexy and capable.

"Don't look at me with those eyes"

☀︎ Pile Three ☀︎ (The tower, queen of swords, three of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands)

⇾ This is my dark feminine pile. 🎶Sheee’sssss a maaaann eeeaaatttttttuuuhhhhhhhh🎶, Ironically, the black cat got chosen for this pile. The tower paired with the two queen cards screams shadowy feminine to me, but balanced. The three of pentacles create a bridge between your intense fire and air energy. You balance your shadowy, detached and your fiery, passionate nature and it creates this intoxicating dichotomy that people can not get enough of. ⇾ You also are reserved and guarded, people can tell it is hard to gain your trust and gain access to your inner world so people subconsciously try hard to earn your favor. When I was laying out your cards my eyes got heavy and I felt like I needed to go to bed. You have a very sultry sluggishness to you. Think about Corpse Bride, how her eyes were always low, she moved slowly, and her voice was low. You have a dark veil over your character that is very alluring. There may be an 8th house or Mars emphasis in your natal chart. Make sure to check your planetary midpoints. ⇾ I am getting a Gabriette Betchel vibe. There's a darkness around the eyes of the man standing in the nine of wands. There is a draw to the shape of your eyes, especially if they droop a little or you have sunken eyes. Maybe you like dark makeup if you’re into makeup. This pile definitely had a crush on Morticia Adams growing up. You ARE Morticia Adams. Pretty Rave Girl is playing in my head, I don’t associate your energy with the rave aesthetic but I get the sense that people fantasize about you. You’re naturally mysterious and detached and most people only have an idea of you rather than a one-on-one connection. You may face a lot of projections, there’s fog around people’s perception of you. Plutonian-type power, insanely magnetic, with Neputinian-type glamour, veiled and shapeshifting. There may be some WLW baddies in this collective. ⇾ I feel like a very small number of people truly know you, you are reserved and selective with your energy and let me tell you, that is the most attractive practice a human being can implement. You are a once-in-a-lifetime personality that people dream about embodying. YOU ARE AN AESTHETIC. Well not exactly, I’m not limiting you down to your appearance. But you are the ideal embodiment of the dark feminine, man-eater aesthetic. The other three piles felt like concepts that I tried to piece together to paint a picture, your pile feels like a tried and true timeless dark sexiness that we've seen in cinema and music videos throughout the years. There is range here though, I’m feeling anywhere between Morticia Adams to Effy from Skins. The allure of Hollywood’s bombshells mixed with the angst and self-guardedness of America’s outcasted teen icons. I’m seeing an emerald snake, if you’re into sidereal astrology you may have ashlesha placements. I could write an entire essay about the fucking bullshit you've endured and THRIVED FROM but this is already getting a lil lengthy lol. Just know that you are living testament to the saying “I get knocked down ten times but get up eleven.” Stay sexy pookie.

"You got your HP Lovecraft... your Edgar Allan Poe"

☀︎ Pile Four ☀︎ (high priestess, two of swords, 4 of pentacles, the empress, knight of pentacles, 10 of cups)

⇾ UHHHH THE DRAAMMAAA. Bae, the high priestess FLEW out. You’re angelic. No mf backtalk. I don’t know about the stereotypical angel, but something about your presence is otherworldly. So intense but hard to conceptualize, can’t classify your energy as anything less than angelic. People see you as something holy and righteous. A theme of fairness and divinity is strong here. I’m seeing the virgin (Virgo, purity) and a gavel (libra, balance and fairness.) Your energy is always in a state of balance and harmony. Temperance did not come out, but I’d bet my top dollar that it would have if I kept pulling. ⇾ I’m hearing a steady water stream and the flaps of bird wings. People come to you for peace and tranquility. Your aura is serene and healing. Being near you is like transporting to a haven with clean water, a sustainable garden, fresh air, and BUNNIES. An image of a ton of white bunnies just came to me. This is not an 18+ reading, so I won’t go into detail but bunnies represent fertility and high sexual energy. You have an abundance of creativity. The best representation of people’s attraction to you I can put into words is like seeing raw energy. There’s this movie that came out in 2017 called Annihilation and there’s a scene where the main character comes into contact with pure energy and is so entranced by it that she just stares at it head empty, blankly in complete awe. THAT is how people see you. Like c’mon high priestess, the empress, 10 of cups, don’t ever fucking question yourself. You have an undeniably divine aura. ⇾ You’re a big deal, you're energy is very enlightening and calm but there is a heavy weight to it. Everything you do in life makes an impression and holds weight. Your thoughts matter, your conversation changes lives, and your very presence makes an imprint on people’s souls. Virgo 6th house, libra 7th house, Scorpio 8th house, Pisces 12th house. ⇾ You also have a very stable, Earthy nature to you with the 4 of pentacles and the Empress. To me, this is pure wealth. You will see a lot of luxury in your lifetime. You are a giver, you have a lot to offer the world. You are the epitome of “fill my own cup and let it overflow to those around me.” You share your abundance and prosperity follows you. You have the divine understanding that life is all about balance and what you give, you receive tenfold. ⇾ People think you look really good in white. Blonde hair could be a good look on you. Any aesthetic that involves purity or innocence really suits you. Personally, I’d say you look fucking killer in red hair. ⇾ With the ten of cups, I’m getting major wish-fulfillment vibes. When suitors see you they hear an angelic chime in their ear (I hear it right now) and music starts playing. DREAM GIRL. By the strictest definition too, you’re very dreamy and your allure is cloudy, people are afraid if they touch you, you’ll float away. You could have prominent Neptune placements. Do you like to sing? Harmoney and melodic sounds keep popping up. I'm thinking of Euterpe, the muse of music. ⇾ Your abundance leaks into your appearance (look for aspects to your ascendant, especially Neptune, Jupiter, and the Sun), you look very youthful and hydrated. It’s going to sound creepy but from a biological, primal-lizard brain perspective, you look fruitful and like you'd bear many blessings and children. Your skin is well hydrated and plump, your hair is strong and luscious, and you look overall very healthy.

"Be Not Afraid."

ahhh that was so much fun! to those who resonated with a pile, thank you for giving me the pleasure of experiencing your energy and reading for you. if you liked it let me know :)

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #pac #pac tarot #affirmations #self concept

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moonalumi · 2 months

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road-tripping with ellie ( fluff + smut )

warnings- lots of fluff in the first half, car sex. ellie and reader aren’t really dom or sub just horny, fingering (r receiving) , thigh grinding, SCISSORING/TRIBBING AHHHH, also ellie being a loser, overstimulation

palestine help master post

honestly the idea was stupid. ellie suggested it first and it took her so long to finally convince you.

“ellie no nevermind! your cars already breaking down and it’s only been an hour on the road.” you yell out the window so ellie; who’s “fixing” her car, can hear.

“babe it’s fine it’s just the air conditioning that broke, we can just roll down all the windows” she says slamming the hood of the car and slouching back into the drivers seat. she’s already glistening with sweat after only being outside for a couple minutes.

you roll your eyes at her wiping the sweat off her forehead, “you’re acting like you were working hard, fixing the car when all you were doing was staring at it.”

“hey!!” ellie acts offended, “at least i wasn’t just sitting here complaining.”

ellie starts up the car again and drives off again. the wind practically smacking you in the face. ellie laughs at your discomfort and leaves a reassuring hand on your bare thigh, “aw babe you wanna get ice cream then or something to cool off?”

you nod and turn your thighs away from ellie, faking being angry at her. el knows your antics by now n merely laughs at you, squeezing your thigh before pulling up into an ice cream shop.

ellie collects her keys and wallet and opens her car door before realizing you haven’t even moved from your seat yet, “babe are you coming with me?” she asks, eyebrows all knit together with a look of concern.

“no just get me a vanilla cone.” you reply dryly. not even sparing ellie a glance.

“it’s gonna get really hot in here are you sure?” she asks again.

“yes ellie go!”

ellie smiles before hoping out the car to treat her angry girlfriend with ice cream. and she’s smiling again when coming back to the car and hands you your ice cream through your open window.

“for you because you’re my beautiful princess and i love you so much” ellie leaves a big wet smooch to your cheek that has your nose crinkling.

“ew ellie shut up you’re so cheesy, don’t kiss me” you wipe her spit off your cheek as you take your ice cream cone from her hand.

ellie settles in her seat again, “oh cmon you used to love my cheesy little lines.” you give ellie a side eye to which she laughs at.

“awe babe cmon you can’t be mad at me anymore i got you ice cream.” she places her clammy hand on your thigh once again and you wince.

“ellie!!! theres melted ice cream on your hand and it’s all sticky—“ ellie smirks and only grips your thigh harder, “ewww don’t touch me!!!” you squeal and she chuckles, licking the melted vanilla ice cream off her fingers.

“there it’s clean. can i touch you princess?” she teases.

“you’re so gross and annoying, i hate you i don’t know why i’m dating you.”

ellie leans in with the biggest dorkiest smile on her cute face, “because you love meeee.” you can feel her eyes searching for yours.

so you turn to face her, “i do love you els.” you smile back at her and peck the corner of her lips, “love you so much.”

you can see ellie’s cheeks gets impossibly redder as if they weren’t already flushed pink from the heat.

“now can you drive to some cute park or something before we drive again. i don’t wanna see highways anymore” you ask your girlfriend.

“of course baby” she says before leaving you alone to enjoy your ice cream on the drive.

———

“babe stop eating all the good fruits!! you always steal my food.” ellie complains as she eats what she got herself from the ice cream shop.

“that’s what happens when you get a girlfriend ellie.” you tease.

the scenery of the park is rather beautiful. there’s a large pond with tall willow trees lining the edges of it. the sun glistening on the waters surface making it look sparkly. you and ellie occasionally throwing fruits at the birds only after frantically searching up if the fruits were okay for birds to eat. but with no service you decided just fuck it maybe it’ll be okay.

ellie of course, parked in the shadiest most secluded part of the park; claiming it was for the romantics and so “we can have privacy while we makeout.”

she wasn’t wrong though because the second you two finished eating your little treats, ellie was practically begging with her eyes for you to makeout with her.

ellie’s big eyes turning more and more half lidded every time you separated from each other to catch your breaths. her hands getting more touchy. they’re moving from holding your hand to your jaw to behind your neck to push you deeper into the kiss.

the longer you kiss her and separate the cuter she looks. her lips are getting puffy and pinker and glistening with the combination of both your salivas. her tongue peeks out to lick her lips before she’s attacking your face again. then kissing down your neck. leaving a trail of wet open mouth kisses down to your collarbone.

“babe…smooch smooch… please” ellie whispers through her kisses. her hand pulling your hair back to have better access to your neck.

“you wanna go in the back el?” you ask pulling back to see her face. she nods and scrambles into the back. just crawling, jumping over the back and fumbling around to find a comfy spot and to leave enough space for you.

you shortly join her and straddle her lap. ellie smiles while looking up at you as you brush her hair away from her face and cupping it.

“you look so cute elzy, you want me?”

“mhm please” she mumbles out, muffled now that her face in smushed in between the cleavage of your tits.

“take these off then,” you hook your finger over the waistband of her jeans and sit off her lap to take your own pants off.

the whole ‘taking off pants’ process took seconds but in those mere seconds the sun managed to pierce through the shade that ellie cautiously parked her car in and heat started pooling into the already stuffy back seat of the car.

you hurriedly straddle ellie’s lap again. her mouth attacking you with harsher kisses and bites all over from your neck to your exposed tits thanks to ellie pulling down your tank top.

“mmm babe you taste so good” she mumbles with her lips all squished against your skin.

“w-what no im sweaty?” you question out of breath as you unconsciously grind on her thigh.

ellie’s attention gets diverted from your tits to the roll of your hips on her thigh, “augh shit babe m’sorry not giving her enough attention”

her fingertips shakily find their way to your clit. then down to your hole and smearing your slick all over your folds.

“elll” you beg thrusting your pussy to follow her fingers.

ellie pants and whimpers the second her fingers enter your hole, it’s like she’s the one getting fingered with all the huffing she’s making. her lips find yours as she thrusts her fingers in and out. her knuckles already getting wet from your slick.

ellie’s still a nervous wreck during sex even though you’ve done it a couple of times together. her fingers are still shaky inside you, she’s not keeping an even pace and her thumb is fumbling around not knowing whether to rub at your clit or not.

“babe w-wait,” you push ellie away a little and she gives you the cutest confused look. before she can even talk you give her a kiss and grab at her thighs and spread them apart. sitting your pussy right atop of hers and a moan leaves the both of you. ellie gives you a lazy smile and her hands plant right on your hips.

“that feel good?” you ask her. even though you already know the answer she looks lost in bliss.

her head leaned back against the headrest and she just looks so sexy all sweaty in nothing but her tank top and in need of pussy. whining and whimpering and thrusting her cute bush covered pussy up to meet your clit.

you wrap your arms around her neck and press your forehead against hers as your rut harder against her. you can feel her clit throbbing against yours and it just makes the pleasure of watching your two pussies coating each other with cum and the sight of ellie’s body under you. her abs contracting as she cums.

“babe babe aughh ohh fuck!” ellie whimpers out. her eyes squeezing shut from the pleasure.

the sound of wetness and squelching becomes so much louder the faster you grind on her. ellie’s moans getting higher and higher pitched as she becomes increasingly more sensitive after her orgasm.

“ellie im so close please hold on” you breathe out. ellie tries holes back the volume of her moans and instead squeezing your hips as she takes your grinds.

you squeeze ellie in for a hug as you cum on her pussy. kissing the top of her head and slowing down to a limp stop when you’re done.

you and ellie catch your breaths before the heat becomes unbearable. both of you are dripping sweat on each other. still half naked with cum in between your legs.

“babe-fuck what are we cleaning up with” you ask sitting up and watch as the strings of cum that connect you two break.

ellie grabs a random shirt she had stuffed in the bags and hands it to you, “just use that it’s whatever” she helps guide your shaky legs to sit next to her and clean each other up.

both of you still out of breath, and heaving immediately drive to a store to get some waters and maybe some cleaning supplies because the backseat definitely has you and ellie’s babies still on it.

#ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie x fem reader #the last of us #ellie smut #elliensfw #ellie fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

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When Eddie is introduced to Jonathan, they both give each other a look that says “if you say anything, you’re dead” and naturally, Nancy clocks it immediately.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” they said at the same time, only growing the suspicion.

“Seriously? Do you know each other already?”

“No!”

“Yes, but-“

They glare at each other, but Eddie speaks up again.

“He bought from me a couple times. No big deal.”

Nancy looks between them, shakes her head. “There’s something else going on. But we’ve got bigger problems.”

And they did.

For months, their problems seemed to get worse by the day. It was a great distraction.

But honestly, anytime Eddie spent more time with Jonathan, it got harder not to say how they actually knew each other: a make out session in a bathroom at a party when Jonathan was yearning for Nancy.

He told Steve eventually, had to with the way he kept finding ways to avoid being around Jonathan and Steve got suspicious.

“If he said something to you about us, I’ll take care of it. He doesn’t get to say shit about what makes us happy.”

And Eddie couldn’t have Steve lose another fight, so he told him.

“So wait. You and Jonathan…”

“Made out. Yes.”

“Like…with tongue?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I remember tongue being involved.”

“And hands?”

“They were there too.”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, lifts one to wipe over his face, then settles it back on his hip. “And you liked it?”

“Considering at the time my options were Jonathan or the girl in Hellfire who insisted I wasn’t gay because I looked at her during campaigns, yeah. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve been through.”

Steve huffed. “Yeah, but like. Compared to me-“

“Oh my god.”

“What?!”

“I cannot believe you’re jealous of Jonathan Byers. Again.”

“I’m not! I’ve never-“

Eddie raised his brows. “Never? Not once?”

“That was different!”

“That was worse.”

“I dunno, finding out your boyfriend has made out with the only other guy in Hawkins who’d be up for it is arguably worse.”

Steve pouted for hours. Eddie let him.

It was cute, alright?

And when he got over it, they made out for hours in his bed.

Steve, of course, was the one who told Nancy.

In his defense, he was very high, and Nancy had been pushing him all night, from the moment she caught wind that he might know how they knew each other.

Eddie went inside to grab them all water, and she pounced.

By the time Eddie got back, Steve was half asleep and Nancy was smirking at Eddie.

“You could’ve just said.”

“He’s never getting high for free again.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s back to being a paying customer, too.”

Nancy laughed, startling Steve into opening his eyes. He smiled up at Eddie, no clue he’d just given up one of their secrets.

“Hi, baby. You know Nancy didn’t know about you and Jonathan?”

Eddie glanced over to see Nancy rolling on her side, laughing hysterically.

“Yeah. I’m sure that was on purpose. How about we get you to bed, superstar?”

He managed to get Steve onto the couch, where he immediately passed out.

Nancy hugged him, kissed his cheek, like she always did before leaving.

“It’s not a big deal, you know. He’s mentioned that he isn’t only into women. We’ve talked a lot about the Argyle situation.” She walked towards the door. “Steve will get over the jealousy eventually. It’s not like Jonathan wouldn’t have made out with him if he could have.”

She left before Eddie could respond.

Eddie suddenly understood exactly what Steve was feeling.

“Not gonna happen,” he mumbled to himself before joining Steve on the couch and pulling him close.

#eddie munson #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #sorry but it’s a very funny thought to me that Eddie and Jonathan made out once and Steve gets jealous #and it’s way way worse than any jealousy he had over Nancy #it’s also absolutely hilarious to think of Eddie getting illogically jealous in return #it’s just a silly brain worm #it took up 10 minutes of my day so now it can take up 5 of yours

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fairy-hub · 5 months

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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, period cramps, suguru takes a bath with you, they all refuse to let you walk, pouty reader with Kento because I for one am emotional over tiny things during that time and kento being sweet with me would be everything, making s’mores with Satoru, full of kisses adoration and cuddles, for when you need cuddles and a bath, nap and cuddles or chocolate and cuddles

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Hi! May I request Suguru with a fem aligned reader (if u do write that but if not, gn is also ok!) who is on their monthly cycle? cramps r hell rn and I need some comfort.

Oreo: Hope this helps 🫶🏽 sorry I couldn't get this out sooner, I wanted to do more characters because I've been in the mood for some comfort too

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Slowly peeling the covers back, gently lifting you off the bed, cradling you to his chest. “Poor Princess, I hate seeing you like this.” You grimace, furrowing your brows. “Sorry my love for moving you.” Covering your cheek in soft kisses.

He doesn't stop until you’re smiling from the sweet attack. “Got our bath ready, the warmth and water should help ease the flow.” Getting lost in his captivating tender warm chocolate eyes.

“Our bath?”

The softness of his voice soothing. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't hold you when you’re cramping? I was thinking I would wash us off afterward, carry you back to bed.” Kissing his hard pec, resting your head against his warm chest, closing your eyes.

You’ve never had someone talk to you with such gentle kindness, look at you with such adoring love or tenderly touch you until Suguru. “You’re better than I deserve.”

“You deserve only the best, and I'm going to give it to you.” Carefully sitting you down on a towel covering the counter protecting you from the cold. Holding your arms up for Suguru to slip the baggy shirt off.

Lifting you off the counter, steadying you on your feet. “You are the best.”

“That’s why I’m your’s.” Pushing your underwear down, for you to step out of. Kissing above your pubic line, gently rubbing in soft circles where you’re cramping the most. After a year of living together he knows your body well.

Using paper tissues to toss your pad in the trash. Lifting you off your feet, cradling you lowering you into the warm, bubble bath. It's the perfect temperature, the water lapping at the back of your neck easing some of your head’s tension.

The bubbles reaching above your head, you have to make a small space otherwise be consumed whole. “You look beautiful and cozy.” Letting out a gentle sigh, the warmth and muscular relaxer soothing your aches.

“This is wonderful, thank you darling.” Suguru slips his sweats down, folding them up to set on the counter. Leaning forward he whips his feet off in the mat, stepping in behind. Carefully sitting down, pulling you into his lap.

Closing your eyes resting your head listening to the music. His chest rumbles when he sings, “Whatever words I say I will always love you, I will always love you, whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again.” Kissing the top of your head.

“Your voice sounds like heaven. I want to record you singing, I can listen to it to fall asleep when you’re working late.” Looking up at Suguru’s face, he smiling down at you.

The soft curve of his lips, the love in his eyes, this is what it’s like to be treasured by someone. “Which songs do you want me to sing for you my love?”

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Resting on his chest, eyes closed listening to Kento’s comforting voice reading. “Traveling down the thin winding path, not yet reclaimed by the forest’s growth. Breaking into a small clearing, displaying a partly dilapidated house. Part of the original brick structure standing tall still.” He pauses to flip the page, looking down at you.

Smiling at how you’d fallen asleep on his chest. Grabbing the long thin bookmark you gotten him. Slipping it between the pages, closing the book, setting it aside.

Checking the heating pad, gently making sure it's in place. Carefully lifting the blanket over you, covering you up to your neck. Slipping his glasses off, laying his head down on the pillow behind him. Closing his eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

Your cramps had been persisting all morning, at last you were comfortable enough to fall asleep. He loves your soft warm body resting in top of his. The safety in knowing you’re protected, happy and at peace.

The sun has set by the time Kento wakes up. “My love?” Kissing the top of your head. Massaging your stomach and sides. “Wake up I need to get dinner started, I'll get you cozy in the bed with the heading pad.” He peels the blanket back, grabbing the now cold heading pad setting it aside.

Shifting on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kento carefully fixes the blanket on yo. Wrapping his arm around you, slowly standing up. “What are you craving?”

Pouting whining in frustration, “I dunno! I'm hungry but I don't know what I want. I don't want you to leave me alone.” Cupping the back of your head, swiping his thumb in small circles. His gentle touch soothing your emotional turmoil.

“Take out it is you can look at what you want and take your time there’s no rush. I'll carrying you to and from the door to get the food.” Nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. He knows the bedroom by memory.

Carrying you with one arm, pulling the covers back, laying you down then flicks on the lamp. “We need to make sure we get you something yummy.” Kento kisses your forehead. “Lemme get your heating pad and my phone.”

Kento isn't gone long coming back into the room. He’s beautiful with his blond hair falling across his thin framed glasses. You like them more than his green and silver ones that hide the beautiful dark coffee brown shade of his warm, gentle, tired eyes.

Slipping into underneath the covers, holding his arms out for you to climb slowly onto his lap. Resting your chest on his chest craving the skin to skin.

Placing the heating pad on your stomach, grabbing the near by covers and covering you both. “Comfortiable beautiful?”

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You have a wonderful view of Satoru in a tight black shirt splitting open firewood with a wooden axe. You’d insisted a cabin in the woods because you pouted about being around other people was a bit extreme. Now that you’re here with no one else but Satoru for miles around it’s peaceful and necessary.

The view of his arms flexing when bringing the axe through the wood catching your attention. Almost distracting you from the monthly fit your body is throwing from not getting knocked up by Satoru.

Loading the logs into the pit. He points his fingers at it, looks up at the window and smiles. Could he really spark the firepit without destroying the ground around it?

You eyes widen. There’s a flash of light and boom fire errupts from the pit. Arching towards the sky, settling down, gradually getting lower as it consumes the wooden logs.

Blowing off the his finger gun proud of himself. Then vanishing out of site as he comes into the cabin. Slipping back outside covering the bench in several blankets and the throw pillows from the sofa. The bringing out a plate with a roasting stick.

Dipping back into the house Satoru bursts into the bedroom, grinning widely. “It’s s’mores time! Cuddles, a crackling fire underneath the stars your wonderful boyfriend feeding you chocolate you might be cramping but that has to help a little right?

“Can’t think anything sweeter, other than getting some kisses from my Sugarbear.” Satoru climbs onto the bed, hovering over you carefully not to let his weight crush you. Softly kissing your nose, cheeks, forehead and lips. You can feel his smile in the gentle curve of his lips.

Wrapping your legs around him, parting your lips for his tongue. You crave Satoru’s slow, sweet romantic kisses more than air. Slipping your fingers through his short undercut into his fluffy hair.

Squeezing your sides lifting you off the bed. Refusing to break away, he’s lost in your soft lips whimpering into the kiss. Carrying you through the door, slowly sliding his hand up and down your back, cupping your ass.

Pulling away you need to breathe, resting your head on his chest. Shivering from the cool fall air, nuzzling your head into Satoru’s neck, kissing him gently.

“Your kisses are sweeter than any treat I could buy.” Satoru sits down with you straddling his lap. Picking up the roasting fork, its tip having been resting on a plate next to some marshmallow, a chocolate bar and some Graham crackers.

“Cheesy!” Leaning back enough to admire Satoru’s handsome face. Kissing his cheek.

He passes the roasting stick to his other hand. Squeezing your between his arms when he sticks a fluffy marshmellow onto it’s tip. “It’s true! The way you kiss me is so sweet and loving, it makes my heart beat faster every time. I can't stop kissing you, it's getting worse. Everytime I see you I want to cover you in kisses, hold you close and never let you go!”

Oreo creampie m.list

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princessbrunette · 7 months

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kinktober : oct 3rd

simon riley x teasing / bratting

winding simon up was so much fun.

it really gets your heart racing after a slow week, you know? sometimes, you were restless and antsy — and you needed your giant, strong man to threaten you a little to feel something.

so, you’d pretty much been slutting yourself out to him around the base.

it was unlike you, his demure thing that respected privacy and boundaries as much as he did. but, occasionally — you both liked the thrill. which is why you had taken the chance to be extra chatty and sweet with his men, brushing it off as “i’m a nurse, si. you expect me not to speak to people now?” however, it wasn’t just that. it was the tight outfits, the dropping things on the floor just to bend over right in front of him before he goes off on duty — and worst of all, when he’d give you little to no reaction, the touching.

you’d spot him near the dining hall, a quiet night on the base. he was stood, arms crossed after training some newer recruits and he just looked so fucking big. he wore a long sleeve black thermal shirt, stretched across thick muscle, and black cargo pants, the thick belt accentuating his waist. he had his usual black balaclava on, and his boots added an inch or so onto his already imposing height. you felt yourself fucking clench, and for no reason other than he looked good.

you skip over, all bouncy and smiles and he has to fight not to let a smile slip himself — his eyes softening.

“si!” you smile softly, approaching and he turns his body towards you. simon always gave you his full attention.

“you alright, love?” he gruffs in that low voice, and you can barely contain the horny and dumb expression from sliding across your features, blinking up at him with large doe eyes as you suck on your bottom lip. tease, he thinks.

“missed you, been neglecting me.” you groan, and he can tell by your voice that you don’t really feel any kind of way about it. there’s something bigger at play here and he knows it already.

“was trainin’ the rookies.” his eyes don’t leave yours as you step closer, tits brushing against his stomach.

“mhm? how was it?” you converse sweetly, barely glancing around to see if there were any wandering eyes before reaching down to his belt, playfully tugging at it before your hand wanders lower, feeling his heavy shape under your palm. he harshly grabs your wrist, pinning it in the air as he stares you down, voice dropping an octave.

“you think that’s wise, nurse? doin’ that right here?” nurse. he always calls you that when you’d been bad. bingo.

his intimidating glare makes you falter for just a second, ripping your eyes away to recoup but when you do he moves his head to follow your gaze, stepping forward so you’re backed up against the wall.

“don’t know what you’re talking about.” you try, but it doesn’t come out as confident.

“no? reckon you’ve been behaving this week, then?” he pushes, muscles tight with frustration. he’d been waiting for the chance to pounce, and you’d barely even pushed his button. you hold your chin up, putting on the act.

“i have. i’m a good girl.” you tease and he scoffs, eyes darting about the hallway before grabbing you roughly by the waistband and stuffing his thick arm down there, strong hand pushing past your panties. you let out a quiet yelp when he slides his fingers through slick, tutting at you and pulling his hand out.

“as i thought. all wet over nothing.” he berates, opening your jaw with one hand and stuffing his wet fingers into your mouth with the other. your eyes water as they stare up at him mercilessly, threatening to roll back when you choke on them just a little. you’re saved by the sound of footsteps and he pulls back, a string of saliva following his hand when it departs and snapping against your chin, making you splutter a little, wiping it with the back of your hand.

you think he might let you run off, now that there’s people around but he grasps you by the back of the neck when you turn around, practically walking you like a dog in the direction of your dorm. “c’mon, know you’re fuckin’ dyin’ for it. walk that sorry little arse all the way to your room.” his voice is a mere growl now and all you can do is silently nod, cunt clenching around nothing.

#simon riley smut #ghost cod smut #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley drabble #call of duty drabble #cod prompt #kinktober 2023

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florencemtrash · 3 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn.

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint.

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot.

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world.

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else.

Except for me.

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too.

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other.

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet.

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance.

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift.

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice.

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms.

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.”

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city.

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you.

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library.

“They’re in love.”

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths.

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.”

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all.

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper.

“For the miss.”

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads.

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—”

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.”

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed.

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?”

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable.

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.”

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding.

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family.

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple.

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.”

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.”

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.”

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall.

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.”

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell.

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous.

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in.

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s.

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that.

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring.

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx?

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more.

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch.

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine.

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling.

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat.

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle.

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes.

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.”

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head.

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.”

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear.

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.”

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders.

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.”

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.”

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?”

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!”

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw.

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers.

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek.

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive.

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief.

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering.

He wasn’t the one you wanted.

“AZRIEL!”

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless.

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!”

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—”

“Are you hurt? What’s—”

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!”

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed.

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you.

“Az.”

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you?

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood.

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun.

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian.

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck.

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you.

Panic seized your soul.

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face.

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.

You did feel it when he broke your wrist.

When he forced the book from your grasp.

And then stabbed you in the stomach.

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides.

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned.

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place.

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW!

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body.

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.”

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.”

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose.

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street.

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master.

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot.

She was Nesta fucking Archeron.

Lady Death.

Queen of Queens.

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled.

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings.

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes.

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops.

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.”

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do.

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness.

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised.

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones.

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to.

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery.

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what….

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain.

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror.

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!”

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.”

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach.

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together.

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight.

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic.

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.”

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice.

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time.

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all.

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.”

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears.

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness.

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved.

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him.

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head.

“I know.”

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—”

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.”

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.”

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it.

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.”

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.”

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.”

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers.

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it.

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable.

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood.

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power.

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth.

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise.

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader angst

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roanniom · 9 months

Text

Sting

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, slapping/spanking (consensual), PIV/unprotected sex, major switch energy from both parties here, dirty talk and light degradation

You know that thing at some wild bars where you can pay to take a shot and then get slapped by a hot bartender and then splashed with a cup of water?

Eddie Munson is the guy who rushes to the bar and slams a crumpled stack of bills down, a massive smile on his face as he hollers and asks for the “special.” When you climb onto the bar with the shot he steps between your thighs with a massive smirk. He’s been flirting with you for weeks outside of the bar and you’re more than happy for him to finally crowd your personal space (when he found out you do this at your part time job he’d insisted he was visiting that very night). The minute he shoots back the gulp of tequila, you rear back, wind up, and let loose a massive slap, cracking him right against his left cheek. He reels to the right with the force of the impact, but before he can recover, you empty the contents of a plastic cup of water across his stunned face.

Eddie’s soaked features expand into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. He stares at you, a little dazed, heavy hands dropping to your thighs and fingers digging into your flesh bruisingly. You grin right back, leaning in with a hand on his neck so you can whisper.

“Looked like you liked that,” you tease. It’s a relatively empty bar. Pretty much an off night. So nobody hears when Eddie puts a hand on your neck and pulls you so he can whisper in your ear.

“I’m so fucking hard right now, it’s insane.”

You laugh at that, covering your face with your hands. The whole point of the gimmick is to play into guys’ fantasies - grown men had uttered wet, stuttering proposals to you before - but there’s something different here with Eddie. You’d been tiptoeing around your chemistry with one another ever since Robin had invited you to that party at Steve Harrington’s house. The heat between you was just waiting to finally ignite.

“Masochist,” you throw at him.

“Sadist,” he counters pointedly. His hand rubs into the softness of your inner thigh, moving dangerously close to your center. Especially for this being your place of work. Luckily there’s only a few drunks left in the both by the front door, so they can’t see.

“Who, me?” you play along.

Eddie’s finger dips under the hem of your cutoff shorts.

“You’re telling me you didn’t just get off on slapping me?”

“Well I know you got off on being slapped, so…” you trail off, winding your arms around his neck and interlocking your fingers over his nape. Eddie scoffs.

“Well obviously. Hence the whole me being ‘so fucking hard right now’ part.” His thumb glides a cheeky line down the center seem of your shorts. Right over your slit. “I’m not the one playing coy here, baby doll.”

“The bar is closed!” you call out abruptly. Startled by your sudden change in volume Eddie steps back from you, giving you space to hop down from the bar. You clap your hands to get the dull attention from the single occupied booth.

“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here!”

Eddie chuckles behind you, resting his forehead against the smooth mahogany of the bar to keep from beaming his smugness throughout the rest of the establishment.

“But it’s not even—,” one of your regulars winds up to argue but you go over to the door and flip the sign, slapping the ‘closed’ sign against the glass.

“Stuart if you don’t get your ass out this minute I swear to god.”

~*~

With the bar empty of patrons, the only sounds left are the moans and heavy grunts issuing from you and Eddie respectively as he fucks you on the couch in the manager’s office. The one perk of having the shittiest closing shift with the worst manager is that you’re left to lock up and therefore are free to defile his furniture in piece.

Eddie’s got you on your hands and knees, ass on the air as he pummels into you with unforgiving thrusts.

“Holy fuck you are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His hands are heavy on your hips, moving every few seconds to squeeze the dip of your waist or grope the round of your ass.

“Back at ya, pretty boy,” you manage to respond breathlessly.

“You’re teasing me, but I mean it. Your fucking attitude. This fuuuuhcking body. Shit.” He seems beside himself, overwhelmed with need even though he is literally in the middle of fucking you. In a moment of extreme stimulation he lands a sharp spank to your ass, mesmerized by the way it jiggles with the force.

“Eddie!” you cry out, though there’s a laugh in your tone.

“You liked that?” he asks gruffly. When you nod and moan, he spanks you again, this time on the other cheek. “Of course you do. You were ripped from my wettest fantasies, you’d have to love getting spanked.”

“Mmmm not as much as you loved getting slapped,” you tease, mouth half open against the ratty fabric of the couch, seconds from drooling over how great he’s making you feel.

Suddenly your world gets upended as Eddie rips you up from the couch, shifting and hoisting so that he is now sitting up against the back of the couch with you straddling his lap. You’re dazed by the change in position and you grab at him weakly to maintain your balance.

Eddie gazes back at you with a drunken grin on his face.

“Do it.”

“Wha–ahh…” You are distracted by him lowering you back down on his cock. This angle comes with gravity on your part, and sinking down on him means that you feel him deeper than before. Deeper than you’ve ever felt a lover before.

“Eyes on me, baby doll,” Eddie coos, placing one big hand on your neck. You’re suddenly pretty out of it. So Eddie gives you some time to adjust to the new fullness you’re experiencing, placing light kisses over your cheeks, jaw, and neck. When you begin trying to roll your hips, Eddie drops his hands heavy on your waist to stop you.

“Slap me.”

Your eyes go wide, and clarity seeps into your system.

“Yeah?” you ask. A grin tugs at the corner of your mouth. Eddie nods emphatically.

“Yeah. C’mon. Hit me.”

You lift your hand up and place it lightly on his cheek.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it outside of the ‘special’ before,” you giggle. Eddie smiles at your hesitation but slaps lightly at your ass.

“C’mon. Do your worst, baby doll. I can take it.”

You take a deep breath before pulling your arm back and delivering a solid slap to his left cheek. Eddie lets out a massive moan, matched only the way his cock twitches inside you - hard.

You bring your hand back to his cheek to sooth over the pink spot forming where you struck him.

“Feels good, pretty boy?”

“Oh yeah,” he says gruffly, having the presence of mind to at least look a little sheepish.

“I could tell,” you laugh, rolling your hips against his. This time he doesn’t stop you, and you’re able to see park yourself up to a vigorous bounce. Your ass smacks against his thighs as you ride him, and eventually Eddie devolves into filthier and filthier dirty talk as he slowly loses his mind.

“Fuck. Closing the bar to get fucked in the back. So bad, baby doll. Such a bad girl.” He sucks at the swell of your breasts as you laugh. “Why are you laughing? Having fun being a little slut, huh? Of course you are.”

“Sooo much fun, Eddie,” you whine. You’ve been on the precipice of an orgasm for the past five minutes, and his words are working overtime to get you over the line. “Oh fuck, there. Right there!”

Eddie begins bucking his hips rapidly, taking over fucking up into you, all while continuing to prod at the same spot deep inside of you.

You cum in an eruption of moans and shakes, writhing in Eddie’s lap while he continues lifting you up and down his cock, fucking you through the sensation. Stars cloud your vision and it takes a while for you to get enough deep breaths into you to get your bearings again.

When you do, Eddie is still rutting up into you, somehow more desperate than before. A cute pinch in his features that has you aching for him, an aftershock quaking through your pussy.

“Look so…fuck….so pretty when you cum, baby doll,” he does his best to rasp. You ground your hands on his shoulders and continue to ride him. Letting him use you to hurtle towards his own end. You feel like you want it for him more than you even wanted your own.

“You’re so pretty, Eddie,” you hum, voice raw. Your hand slides up his sweaty neck to rest over his flushed cheek. “My pretty boy.”

“Mmmm yours,” he slurs, gazing up at you with eyes. A thrill of possession runs through you. No you haven’t known him long, but there’s something electric about the push and pull you have with Eddie. It’s hot and heavy and sick and sweet and you can’t help but feel a need to own him, as he seems to own you.

“You’re mine?” you ask, though he’s the one who just instigated that concept fully.

He nods, but his eyes slide closed as you bring him even closer to the edge. You slap lightly on his cheek for attention and he moans, eyelids rocketing up.

“Harder.”

You do as he says, slapping him on the other cheek this time. It is harder but Eddie grunts as he picks up the pace, fucking up into you.

“Harder.”

You slap him again, and he blinks before groaning, his hips beginning to stutter and lose their steady rhythm.

“Fuck me, harder! Please!”

The begging breaks you.

You slap him, hard, and then lurch forward to swallow his gasp as his jaw drops and eyes roll back. You kiss him while he stiffens in your arms, his hot spend spurting into you. Your hands close over his cheeks to cradle him to you, cooing against his lips and working him through his pleasure with steady, shallow rolls of your hips.

“That’s it, pretty boy. Came so good for me,” you whisper, open mouthed kisses raining down on his cheeks as you hold him.

After several minutes of shuddering breaths, Eddie let’s put a hoarse laugh.

“Fucking Christ. What was that?”

You laugh along with him, lifting his chin to look into his hazy eyes.

“That was you cumming your brains out to me slapping the shit out of you.”

“You’re a poet,” Eddie snorts. His hand traces lazy shapes into the bare expanse of your lower back.

“Oh I’m sorry is there a classy way of describing what just happened?” you counter with humor. Eddie shrugs.

“I found ecstasy on the knife’s edge of pleasure and pain with my woman in my arms.”

You dissolve into a fit of laughter than he can only suppress by dragging you against him in a hug and muffling your face against his chest.

After the struggle dissipates, you slump boneless in his arms, content to be held. You press a kiss to his chest.

“Your woman?” You quote back to him. Eddie huffs.

“Well I’d hope this ownership thing is a two way street if I’m gonna be yours, baby doll.”

For a second you don’t answer and his blood runs cold, worrying he may have been presumptuous, taking what you said in a moment of passion at face value. But then you’re looking up at him with a dazzling smile.

“You’re gonna regret this, Munson. I bet a collar would look really pretty on you.” You reach up and trace a finger around the circumference of his neck, watching the muscles and tendons work as he swallows, the skin there flushing a beautiful red.

You don’t get a chance to do anything else before you’re flipped again, suddenly on your back. You hiss at the sudden extraction of Eddie’s cock, but the hiss becomes a gasp when it’s slapped down on-top of your clit, suddenly hard and swollen again.

Eddie’s hand comes down to wrap lightly around your throat and your eyes light up, a big smile on your face.

The man above you stares down at you.

“Was thinking the same about you, baby doll.”

When he slaps your ass it stings.

Good.

~*~

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Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson thots #stranger things smut

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lewisvinga · 2 months

Text

american | logan sargeant

summary; y/n was never one to mess around and rebel against her parents, until she met a fellow american, logan

warnings; clubbing/partying, drinking

word count; 1.15k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; american boyyyy, not rlly proofread tbh

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

“Y/n, fix your posture and stand up straight.”

Y/n’s mother scolded her as they entered a family friend's house. They were invited to an event to kick off the summer at the Sargeants, friends of the L/n family, in Miami.

Y/n sighed as she listened to her mother and stood straight, fixing her knee-length dress. She was never one to disobey her parents. Despite studying at the University of Miami, she never attended parties or drank. She never rebelled.

Her mother hums in satisfaction as they walk farther into the house to head to the backyard where everyone is. Y/n was soft-spoken and quiet, following her parents around as they greeted everyone.

But after an hour, she got thirsty and decided to get a bottle of water. The water cooler was right next to the beers and other alcoholic beverages. She glanced at the cooler for a second too long when a voice interrupted her.

“Well, Y/n L/n. You look so pretty.”

She looked up in shock and was met with familiar icy blue eyes and a cheeky smile she hadn’t seen since she was 13. “Logan! You’re back?” She exclaimed with a smile.

“It’s been a hot minute but the Miami Grand Prix is next week and I had this week off.” The Blonde explained with a smile. His head then nodded towards the cooler of the alcoholic beverages, “Which one do you like?”

“Oh, no!” Y/n exclaimed, quickly shaking her head before reaching for a water bottle. “I don’t drink. Never have.”

“And you go to UMiami and you don’t drink? At all?”

She simply shrugged in reply, fiddling with the ends of her yellow sundress. “No. Don’t really party either. But it’s fine, I like to focus on studying-“

“Nonsense!” Logan interrupted her, “You’re still a goody two shoes. You were always scared to step out of line.” He chuckled.

Her eyebrows furrowed up as her cheeks started to heat up. “No!” She said in defense. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t want to break any of their rules. I’m grateful for all that they give me!”

“Hey,” The Williams driver began with a cheeky smile, “Wanna head out of here? Take a spin ‘round town. The weather's nice.”

His blue eyes remained on hers as she let out a small hum. She glanced back at her parents who were already drinking and busy talking to their friends. She looked at him with a smile before saying, “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Oh, Springsteen!” Y/n exclaimed as the familiar voice of the singer began to play in Logan’s Porsche. The top was opened and there was a slight breeze as he drove through the neighborhood.

“Of course!” The Blonde replied, glancing over at her. “Dude he’s like the king. Don’t you think?” He said, tilting his head down so she could see his eyes from above his black sunglasses.

She chuckles as she adjusts the Prada glasses resting on her nose. “Oh, hell yes! That guy can sing. But personally, I’m a fan of Elvis.”

“Presley?” He asked in shock.

“Oh, yeah! He’s the best.”

“What’s your favorite record of his?”

“I’m a big fan of Burning Love at the moment.”

Thankfully, there was a red light right at the neighborhood exit. Logan reaches for his phone which is already connected to his car to play the song. Y/n couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh as the familiar intro began to play.

The light turned green and he began to drive on the main roads. The speed limit was higher which meant that as he sped down the roads, the strong winds compensated for the hot sun shining down on them.

Y/n felt very relaxed even though she and Logan secretly left the party. The breeze and Elvis’ voice relaxed her as she went into a deep conversation with him.

Thankfully, her glasses covered up her curious eyes as they glanced over him. He had gotten quite a bit of a tan but it made him glow in the Miami sun. He was much taller than when she had seen him last when they were 13. And if anything, he had gotten a lot more attractive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his teasing voice. “What are you staring at?” He asked with a smile, noticing her glances at a red light.

She immediately froze in the spot and began to stutter. “I- Well. The trees are lovely and-“

“Relax! I’m just messing with you.” Logan said between laughs as he focused back on the road and the green light, “Besides, I think you’re pretty good-looking now too.”

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes as she leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. She glances to her side, watching the buildings and people turn into a blur as the wind blows her hair behind.

Part of her wanted to stay obedient to her parents. After all, they were parents and provided everything for her. They paid for her college, her car, her clothes, and bags, the least she could do was listen to their rules.

But another part also wanted to be a carefree college student. She wanted to have fun and not regret her days in college. She wanted to be young, dope, and proud like an American.

She turned to look back at Logan before saying, “Let’s go clubbing. I want to have fun.”

The blonde looked at her shocked before his lips curled into a smile. “Oh yeah? What’s gotten into you?”

“Just done with being afraid to break my parents' rule. I want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Well, it’s Miami, so we gotta get you a new dress.”

Y/n furrowed up her eyebrows as she glanced down at her long yellow sundress, brown Hermes sandals, and white cardigan. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” She asked with a frown.

Logan raised his eyebrow. “Y/n, you’ve lived in Miami your whole life. The party scene is different here.” He explained, taking a right turn which fortunately for them, was a shopping center. “Honey, you need to put on that party dress. Like you said, you want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Fine,” Y/n said with a smile as he searched for parking. “But you’re coming with me! I have my dad’s credit card and a mall filled with designer stores. And I’m gonna make sure I find the right outfit.” She grasps her Chanel bag as Logan exits the car and quickly rushes to her side to open the door.

“Well, anything to be young, dope, and proud, right?” He said, holding his arm out. She immediately hooked her arm with his, ignoring the faint blush on both of their faces.

She glanced up at his ice-blue eyes as she let out a content sigh, “Like an American.”

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant scenarios

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nvuy · 1 month

Text

an ode to a nightingale — sunday

summary. you were never anything. sunday begs to differ, in his own twisted way.

notes. a thing i did as an experiment and also as a little gift to a special someone (you know who you are) because we both enjoy staring at this guy's face. he's a funky little dude and a massive green flag. 100%.

i redownloaded hsr and i’ve started penacony. i have no idea what’s going on. it’s probably because i’ve been stuck staring at dr ratio’s boob window the whole time. i’m like a toddler watching cocomelon. i cant look away.

warnings. mdni, for safety. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is a controlling dickhead, you’re an implied streetwalker, yandere themes, insulting, threatening, possessiveness, mentions of kidnapping, gaslighting, obsessiveness, lots of nice stuff like that. please let me know if i've missed anything!

“What do you want from me?”

You looked in the mirror as you spoke, and you saw some pathetic state of a person staring back at you. Behind the edges of the golden vanity was the outline of the filled bathtub with steam wafting from the surface.

And him.

You watched as he sank into the water with a satisfied gleam on his face.

You refused to linger on the scratch marks that left gorgeous red and white lines down his arms, and his chest, and his spine.

It smelled like coconut. Coconut and dusted sugar on creamy pastry. And the clogging smell of mascara.

It smudged down your cheeks, and your lips were ruined and swollen, and your skin was painted in purple bruises and teeth marks.

And you were sore. Every part of your body was aching.

Sunday was leaning against the edge of the tub, staring at you through his lashes. He always preferred his baths boiling, as if he wanted to melt his skin off. Usually, he’d bring a book with him and read it during his off time when given the chance.

He didn’t answer.

“You’ve changed,” he said instead. His voice echoed off of the white tiles in the bathroom.

“I look the same as the night you took me off the streets,” you murmured. “Like a whore.”

Sunday hummed. “Is that how you see yourself?” The wings extending from his ears dipped below the water for a moment. “A ‘whore?’”

You didn’t want to turn to face him.

It was difficult enough to hold his unwavering gaze in the mirror.

“You’re not denying it.”

“Because I think you look damaged.” He was honest this time, and there was bitterness swelling with his tone. He instinctively fluttered his feathers to dry them off.

“By your design.” You were speaking of how he made it his duty to ruin your skin with his teeth.

“What I’ve done to you is nothing. You had already ruined yourself by offering your body to those disgusting animals before I had ever even laid my eyes on you.” He waved his hand as if he meant no harm with his words. “I’ve merely saved you.”

Your jaw clenched.

He fluttered his lashes at you in the mirror and sighed.

What a pretty sight.

“‘Saved me?’” you repeated hoarsely. You tried not to claw at your skin in frustration. You willed yourself not to lunge at him and puncture his eyes from his skull. “Do me a favour and save me from your arrogance next. You’re deluded if you think trapping me in your bedroom is praiseworthy.”

He smiled.

“Think of it this way: a bird is much safer trapped in a cage than free to the winds.” The smell of coconut and sugared powder made your head spin. Of course, he would use the soaps and creams you wore when he first met you. The smell was engraved into his mind like a branding.

Although covered by a robe, you felt vulnerable. His gaze held strong. You weren’t sure if he was even blinking.

Sunday seemed too relaxed. Your freedom was a joke to him; what is freedom if you’re too busy giving your body to strangers? Did you want to go back to that life?

“You want me to get in the tub just so you can humiliate me,” you accused with a dangerous flash of your teeth.

You wanted to sound angry. You wanted to sound furious, but it was only a pitiful whimper of a phrase. You felt pathetically weak.

He was quick to answer, “I did not request your company.” He patted the book with golden edges that sat on a ledge of the bathtub. You didn’t want to ask of its contents. “You came here of your own fruition. You felt lonely.”

“You think you know everything about me.”

“But of course.” Sunday plucked the book from the ledge, careful not to wet the pages as he turned to the page he’d marked. “You are mine, after all.”

His tone was light. Confident.

Your face was burning. “Fuck you.”

Who even were you? Who were you next to him?

Nothing, was the appropriate answer. He insisted otherwise, though he’d never given you a definitive answer of what you were. He’d never explicitly stated you to be a whore, disobedient, disrespectful, too independent for your own good.

Everything you hated to hear about yourself, even if it was all true.

He’d only tut and usher you away with a wave of his hand.

You’re his, as well.

His teeth in your skin, his feathers tickling your neck, his wandering fingers that crept below your navel. He’s stained your skin with his. It’s hard to wash off—even harder when he shares the same soaps as you.

Perhaps he knows this, and that’s why he hopes you share a bath with him.

So you’re reminded that there’s a chain around your ankle.

“You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, y’know. You think you’re so high and mighty, and yet you’re naked and pining after some street whore. And then you insist that I belong to you, but also beg for me beneath your own sheets.” But that wasn’t true.

As soon as the words left your lips you screwed your eyes shut and you leaned over the vanity.

His smile only grew, and the tip of his tongue touched the sharp edge of his canines.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the marble countertop.

Here he was, vulnerable. Susceptible to a swift slice of a blade to his neck, to being held beneath the surface of the water until he stopped flailing.

And you’re still so afraid of him.

He reads you like the book in his hands.

Sunday cooed. “Just like water, you are destructible, easily poisoned, and ever changing. You are lost, entrapped within four walls, so desperate to escape, but you cannot think for yourself.”

You furrowed your brows.

He turned the page of his book. The water sloshed as his arms moved.

The smell of coconut was hurting your head.

“You speak in tongues because you’re scared of ruining your perfect image,” you said. “You’re just an insecure little boy who's stuck in a daydream.”

That forced his head to turn. He almost snapped his book shut. Instead, his fingers froze on the edges of the crisp paper.

Then, he let out a hearty laugh.

“Allow me to rephrase: your beauty is wicked. It is rotten, vile, and evil.” The sweet scent of sugar was a cruel joke. It juxtaposed everything that spilled from his filthy lips. “Your blood is muddied and ruined. You’ve allowed strangers to see your skin.

“You’re lucky I’ve tolerated your behaviour for this long. If you were anybody else, you would have lost your foul tongue after our first night together.”

The way he said it all made you feel so much smaller than you were.

You finally turned around to face him. The reflection in the mirror made the bathtub seem further away than it actually was.

The tub was in the centre of the room, craved meticulously from a blue crystal. To you, it closely resembled aquamarine. It was big enough to be considered a swimming pool if you removed the golden faucet, but you refrained from insulting his fussy craftsmanship and adding fuel to the fire.

Sunday was particular about everything; sizing, shapes, colours. Everything had to match, everything had to make sense, everything had to be perfect and presentable. Any faults or flaws were dealt with swiftly, whether that be a person or an object. You weren’t sure if you were considered one or the other.

Then came the specifics. A ledge for placing things, voids in the walls for storing soaps, adequate cupboards, flooring, walls, forms, everything.

Aeons forbid you dropped a glass and scratched the precious tiling.

And he was particular about you, though he never clearly stated what he wanted from you.

He wanted you. That was clear from how he would coax you to join him with gentle words and fleeting touches. How he would stain your skin and leave an imprint of your body on his bedsheets.

Anything other than that was muddled, muddied, lost in his own deluded mind.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him again.

Sunday fluttered his lashes at you. “Nothing at all.”

“Have you ever told the truth?”

You had instinctively drawn yourself closer to him. You leaned over the tub, fingers curled around the rim of crystal.

Sunday sighed. He looked sick, like delusion had twisted through his mind like poison ivy crawling along the walls of the gardens outside. “You are afraid of the truth.”

“You’re lying again.” He wasn’t lying, but you refused to make him feel as though he was in control.

That was he fed off.

Your fear, your touch, your taste, your words, every inch of your skin. His. All of it.

“I want everything,” he stated.

You wanted to break the tub and slit his throat with the shards of crystal.

“I want you to give yourself to me. All of yourself.”

How selfish of him.

He still views you as an offering.

You turned away and moved to storm out of the bathroom. You would wait until he was finished. You couldn’t be in the room with him.

The steam was burning your skin, and your scent on him was making your head feel like it was splitting apart.

He grabbed your face and forced you to look back.

You would have described his eyes as beautiful; golden irides with hints of plush velvet and a deep sapphire. But all he did was stare. He’d never look away, and he never wished to.

He saw things you did not.

“I want undying loyalty.” When you squirmed, he held your cheeks harder. “I want hopeless devotion. I want compassion. I want to see the silhouette of you in my bed first thing every morning.”

Your nails were frozen digging into his wrist, still wet and hot from the water.

He seemed as though he wished to say more, though refrained when he let go of your face. He’d abandoned his book now, his gaze remaining locked onto you.

Your cheeks stung from his fingerprints. You feared the patterns would be burned into your flesh.

“I want you to stop,” you whispered.

You knew what he was doing.

“Oh, I will.” This time, when his fingers raised for your face, he simply grazed them along your sore cheek. “Join me.”

You didn’t answer at first. You didn’t even move from your spot, frozen as if he’d drawn ice down your spine.

You breathed out. Your fingers were trembling.

“I’m not stupid,” you said. You were trying to convince yourself it was true.

Sunday only tilted his head. “No, you’re not stupid.”

He was already pulling the string of the bow around your waist. His wings bristled.

“I know what you’re doing,” you insisted, holding onto the fluffy material when he undid the knot holding the robe together. “I know what you’re doing.”

He smiled playfully. His hands pushed away the robe. “What am I doing?”

Your eyes welled with tears.

You don’t know what he’s doing. You are stupid.

You wished you’d never met him. You wished you’d never let soft hands and kind words and those pretty eyes of his draw you into his bed.

You shouldn’t have ever crawled back to him.

You let out a pathetic sob.

“Oh, you sweet thing.”

Sunday tutted pitifully and offered his hand.

Almost instinctively, as if it had been written in your blood since the moment you were born, you took it and leaned into his embrace.

His hair smelled of sugared tea. The feathers of his wings grazed over your face, now soaked with your tears.

He gently drew you into the water, murmuring something bordering on praise. You didn’t even hear what he said.

“I will make you all better.”

The water was hot. His lips on your cheek made you dizzy. The mirror had completely steamed up by now, and your chest pressed flush against his.

You tried to push him off you. You tried. You really did. You’d done this before, many times. Letting him break you down and watching as you lost control of your limbs and clawed at him until he held you.

He was good at that. Predicting. Letting things form the way they always did.

You were so angry. Angry at yourself, at him, at everything. Weakly, you curled your fists and hit his shoulders defeatedly. You heard him laugh.

All you did was betray yourself, surrendering and stilling as his cold hands dipped below the water.

“I will make you whole again.”

#sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #hsr x reader #sunday x you #$. the macrocosmos #$. after hours

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