#till the room REEKS!!

[poppy-metal]

FREEEEEEE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[kiwanopie]

I’d snort a mile of glass and eat a pit bull whole just to get one (1) of his pubic hairs stuck in my teeth

[peachsayshi]

Folding me in half until my toes are next to my head, till the room reeks. We're gonna be locked in there for days.

serious q - what’s the first thing gojo does to you once he’s outta the box 😏

[mcondance]

“till the room stinks”

MDNI 18+ fem! reader, bodily fluids (spit, cum, sweat), patrick is fucking disgusting but that’s canon, reader kinda nasty too i can’t lie to ya, prepare your olfactory system

“till the room stinks” 

except…. that’s how it always is with patrick. patrick sweats, and it drips down onto your arm and your stomach and onto your face. it gathers on his chain and every time he bottoms out, heavy balls pressed flushed to you, it drops down onto your tits. 

patrick spits too, always too much but for you it’s fine, every nasty, disgusting thing he does is okay. 

it’s never “till the room stinks”, because with patrick, sex always stinks. there’s always cum in places it shouldn’t be, some of his crusted in your hairline and some of yours staining his wrist. you both reek of it. there’s no option of fucking and then getting redressed, not with how patrick likes it. 

there’s always his sweat rolling down your stomach, and dripping onto your face, and it tastes salty but you love the putrid taste. there’s always his spit in your mouth and spattered onto your neck through kisses where he can taste your sweat. his spit tastes like whatever he last ate, and since it’s more often than not you, it’s always a mix of some food and the taste that belongs to only you.

when you breathe in heavy after a moan and before another, his smell and the smell of sex fills your nose and your face twists up, and it should fucking stink but it’s a smell you’ve loved since the first time you and patrick fucked. you fucked that first time, had his car smelling for days, so bad he had to roll the windows down and let it ride like that. 

“till the room stinks” doesn’t mean much with patrick. he’s always so fucking messy.

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [4] (myg)

title: and the hits keep coming 2.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: just when you thought yoongi couldn't surprise you anymore, it happens again. warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] a lot more feelings of insecurity and sad vibes, yoongi stepping over oc's boundaries, oc being disrespected yet again (nothing new nothing changed same old shit same old fucking shit)

You were tempted to ignore him, but with Nao involved, you couldn’t avoid dealing with him.

“You should go eat. I can just talk to him for you…?” Taehyung suggests as he watches you contemplate your next move.

That would be great help to you. While you couldn’t afford to avoid him forever, maybe a few days wouldn’t hurt. So, with an overwhelming and shaky sigh, you passed the phone to him.

He hurriedly motions for you to leave the room. And you reluctantly do so.

Taehyung scrunches his nose and shuts the door in your face.

Fighting the urge to hold a glass against the door, you forced yourself to wait in the kitchen till he was done.

On the other side of the door, Taehyung angrily exhales, taking his own sweet time to answer your phone. Then the call drops.

Not even a second later, the loud ringtone fills the room once again. It reeks of desperation.

“Hello?”

No response.

He tries again, “Hello?”

“…Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

After another pause, the voice scoffs, “Figures.”

A bit taken aback, Taehyung bit his tongue, “What do you want?”

Taehyung hears nothing back. “Yoongi? Why’d you call?”

“I called _____, not you.”

“Well, she can’t talk now.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to bite back. “This has nothing to do with you, Tae. I just need to talk to her.”

“You can’t. You have me instead. What more do you have to say?”

There’s yet another long pause.

“How is she?”

Taehyung almost laughs in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. How do you think, Yoongi? Is the future Mrs. Min okay with you asking about your ex?”  

“Careful, Taehyung-”

“Does everyone else know already?”  

“Of course not, I went straight to _____’s. And nobody can know about it either. We’re not ready. I just…”

Taehyung grew more confused the longer Yoongi took to speak.

“I need to talk to her, Taehyung. I really… I messed up.”

“Did something more happen?”

Another pause.

“No. I just had to check in… Can I come by tomorrow? I still need to drop Mimi off.”

“Uh… right, about that. Listen…” Taehyung thinks for a second, “I think, maybe it’d be better if you just let her breathe for a moment. And I’ll come get Naomi.”

Another pause.

“Did she ask for that?”

Taehyung had half a mind to lie about it but he refrained, deciding that the truth would hurt him more. “You know she’d never. She’s too… stupid-” Stupidly in love with you. “-and you need to stop taking advantage of her; you need to hold back, Yoongi. You can’t go running to her for everything anymore.”

Yoongi knew he was in the wrong, but was annoyed that Taehyung was the one to tell him that.

Still a little in denial, he childishly spits, “Fine, bye. Get here before 7.”

Taehyung wanted to retaliate but he was immediately met with a little digital sound indicating that Yoongi had hung up on him.

A little bemused, Taehyung pulls your purple Samsung away from his ear and stares at it--- “So fucking typical.”

As Taehyung steps out of your room, he almost bulldozes you down.

“Jesus, _____.” Frowning, he asks, “Were you eavesdropping?”

You shook your head and wordlessly waved a jar of tiramisu in front of his nose.

Taehyung eyes you suspiciously, “I’m going to pick Naomi up tomorrow.”

When he says that, your face visibly drops. You didn’t actually expect Yoongi to pull away so fast. Was his girlfriend already keeping him from you now? You almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for thinking like you owned him.

Taehyung debates on whether he should elaborate or wait to see if you ask about it.

But you just gently and nonchalantly nod, “Right, of course. That’s okay. Please bring her here by 7.”

“He didn’t ask for this!” Taehyung blurts.

Your expression doesn’t change.

A little intimidated, he looked straight at his feet and explained, “I offered to pick her up. But Yoongi called because he wanted to talk to you. I just told him that I thought it was a bad idea.”

When he doesn’t hear you react, he slowly looks up at you, suddenly feeling miniscule. And he swore he could see steam coming out of your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you stare into his eyes, “You need to stop overstepping. You’ve done it once already. You need to stop.”

He almost felt the heat radiating from you.  

Almost as if he didn’t actually expect you to react so negatively, he asks, “_____... You’re really mad about this?”

You slam your jar on the coffee table and storm off into the kitchen.

“The first time you meddled, Yoongi left me. The second time, he happened to meet his future wife. What’s it going to be now?”

Taehyung was stunned, “Are you kidding me? Are you just mad that I’m looking out for you in ways you yourself wouldn’t or do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you planned it all,” you glare at him accusingly.

Too stunned to digest what you accused him of, his eyes just widened in bewilderment. “_____. I- Planned what, _____?”

You tip your head forward in mockery, “Planned what? Take a guess.”

The room fills with silence once more.

Taehyung shook his head, “I’m going to ignore all of that. And fine, I’ll ask him to call you back then.”

“No!” – “No?” He parrots.

“I don’t want him to call me.” You almost whine. You don’t even know what you truly want. (Actually, you do.)

“Okay.” Taehyung nodded reassuringly, his hands grasping at your elbows, “He won’t. I’ll bring Naomi back tomorrow. Okay?” But you shook your head obstinately, “No, I want her back now.”

“Right now?” - “Now.”

“_____...” He looked at the grandfather clock on your wall.

Cringing a little, Taehyung attempts to reason with you, “_____, it’s Yoongi’s turn to have her.”

“Yeah, that’s a spoken agreement, not a written and notarized thing. He can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with my daughter.” You’re sure this is evil _____ speaking and it’s as if you can’t control her.  

Taehyung nervously cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t have a counter argument. You are Naomi’s mother and arguably the primary caretaker after all. He figures he owes you this.

“So, will you get her back for me?” You weren’t really giving him an option.

Taehyung knew your word was final. Either way, he wouldn’t police you on being a mother. “Let me give Yoongi a call, okay?”

“You do that. I’ll make you something to eat before you go!” You smile sweetly.

Not quite sure of your strategy here, all you knew was that you wanted your daughter with you. It was your way of gaining some control back in your life. You don’t have it in you to think of whether or not this was ethical or right. You just did not want to spiral.

From the kitchen, you could faintly hear Taehyung on the phone.

You take note of his assertiveness and slap some extra mortadella on his sandwich. He deserved it for putting up with you. You couldn’t think of anyone else who’d still be with you and handle your mood swings.

Was that normal or just sad? You do not want to think.

In your mind, you were satisfied in life. Sometimes you regret bringing up marriage with Yoongi. Maybe if you hadn’t forced the idea on him, you could’ve been in Hyejin’s place now.

The fact that you’re even in this position is ridiculous. Sooner or later you’d have to face… everything. The reason they’re getting married and you aren’t. The fact that they might have Nao be a part of their wedding and you’d just have to smile and nod, that Nao may have another parental figure, that you won’t be Yoongi’s bride or a bride at all, ever, and that maybe you’ve lost Yoongi’s companionship forever.

You had to step out for a bit.

Right at that moment, Taehyung emerges from the living room into the kitchen.

Sighing, he starts, “So, he agreed. He wants to know if everything’s okay. Of course, I know it isn’t but I told him he had nothing to worry about. And he didn’t buy it.” –

You push the little ceramic plate towards him, “Eat your sandwich.”

Taking a large bite out of it, Taehyung thanks you and adds, “--- by the way, your food is on the dining table, I didn’t actually give it away, you know?”

“I saw it,” you confirmed, “Jus’ not hungry.”

Quickly changing the topic back to Nao, you ask, “So, can Nao be back now or…?”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing…” He stalled. “Nao’s coming now.”

A gulp. You think he’s swallowing his food.

“Yoongi’s coming with.”

‘Why do you always bring me bad news?’ is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you squeak out a “When?”

“Twenty minutes? Told me Nao was already dolled up or something.” He finishes his sandwich and washes the plate.

In a soothing tone, Taehyung proposes, “Why don’t you head down to the pâtisserie? I’ll receive them. You don’t have to worry about seeing him, okay?”

You appreciated his offer but chose to decline it, “No. It’s okay. I need to tidy up anyway,” – “_____, I’ll do it for you. I know how you like it. Go take a walk or grab a sweet treat or something, yes?”

“No, it’ll take too long for you to do it by yourself. You can help me though. Just do my bed, please?” You’re already walking off.

Taehyung follows you into your room but doesn’t have a chance to stop you, you’re already stripping down and into your ‘serious cleaning’ clothes. It’s just an old dress and rubber gloves.

Sometimes, Taehyung mourns what you and Yoongi could have been. You’re perfect for each other. The two of you just needed to work on your communication a little. He’s thinking about how much of you Yoongi’s missing out on and can’t help but scoff. In pop culture terms, he really fumbled you.

Suddenly you gasp, “Did you watch me change?” Aimed at the man.

“No!” Vehemently shaking his head, he repeats, “Not intentionally! I was zoned out!”

“Wow, calm down, I don’t mind, you know that.” You smile sweetly once again.

Grabbing a pillow, he sighs. Sometimes, he thinks you toy with him on purpose. He really can’t tell.

 ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Forty minutes go by yet there has been no sign of Nao or Yoongi. No calls or messages, no updates whatsoever.

You ought to get Nao a little phone for herself. How had you not thought of this before? It’ll probably be a lot more useful now.

You were nervously readjusting the doilies in a circle over and over again when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Taehyung’s resting figure suddenly snapped upright, “I’ll get it.”

However, you were closer to the door and got to it before he could take two steps.

When you open the door, you wished Taehyung would’ve beaten you to it. You wish you had taken that walk or chosen to buy yourself a sweet drink; because you couldn’t even have guessed what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Nothing could have prepared you to see your ex-boyfriend with his current girlfriend and your daughter. Together. All of them. Holding hands. In front of you for the very first time. All of them.

While Yoongi had the decency of looking literally anywhere but in your eyes, you couldn’t say the same about his girlfriend. Fiancée.

Hyejin, placed between your daughter and your ex, exhaled a dreamy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding, _____! Nao-chan wanted to show you our matching hairstyle!”

Bewildered and wordless, all you could do was smile and nod. You mechanically turn your head to look at Nao, who sported a baby pink lock of hair amongst her regular, natural hair identical to Hyejin’s.

You nodded and stepped aside, briefly bumping into Taehyung who looked just as uncomfortable as Yoongi, making space for the lovely family to step into your home. Your eyes were glued to your feet.

Just like always, before you take a drastic step, your daughter grounds you as she runs to you and clings to your lower half. Although, the pink strands of hair brushing against you almost make you lose it all. Almost.

Following which Taehyung breaks the tension by awkwardly, yet warmly greeting the pair, taking a load off of you.

You needed to lie down.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ how to disappear completely by radiohead ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: sorry! it probably gets better! i think this one has a few edits pending but i couldn't waitttt

[writingoddess1125]

Pot calling the Kettle Black

Mihawk x Reader + Alucare OOC

Just some domestic Fluff stuff and light violence.

Saw someone requested this! But when I went to answer the answer got deleted cause my laptop overheated and shut off ;-; I'm so sorry! (If you were the person please DM me I do apologize)

Anyway Enjoy!!

"For goodness sake" You sigh as you watch the comb snap from your sons hair. Tossing the ruined item to the side to later be thrown away.

You sat there trying to brush through Alucare's thick hair. It seemed the salty air had decided to reek havoc on his dark locs and render them a crusty tangled mess.

"This is humilating-" He grumbled sitting on the floor of the cabin you and Mihawk shared, Wincing everytime you ran the now 4th comb through his hair and encountered a knot.

"Sorry honey but you're too tall for me when you sit in the chair" You admit, needing the upper angle in order to even attempt to manage his hair.

You rinced his hair in more fresh water but it seemed no matter how much you used it was not helping in softening the hardened locs.

Yanking more on his hair which earn another pained grunt in discomfort from the boy- Both of you not noticing the door opening as Mihawk watched calmly from the doorway lf the cabin.

"Struggling?" He finally spoke, revealing himself to the both of you as you pulled the comb from Alucare's hair.

"Yes, His hair is so dry was the sea air that it's a wavy mess" You say gesturing to his locks with a defeated sigh. Alucare glancing back at his father who seemed amused by the sight, Mihawk walking into the room fully and taking the comb from you as well as reaching into the bag he personally carried and grabbing a jar.

"I'll help, Come" He said calmly and gestured to the chair in the room. Alucare turned his nose to this but sighed in defeat as he stood up and sat in the chair. Mihawk going behind him and taking the hair product he used began to comb it through his hair- Softening it enough to take out the knots.

You looked on in surprise at the two- It was a very cute father son moment in your eyes as you watched Mihawk with care detailed his sons hair.

"The salt from the sea will dry out your hair and stick to you. Add more conditioner" He grumbled, Alucare nodding at this as Mihawk with gentle hands detailed the boys hair.

"Why bother keeping your hair so long to begin with?-" Mihawk asked, raising a brow noting that when continuing it was just past the center of his back. Far too long for his taste.

"Cause when it was shorter I got mistaken for you and almost scared a Marine half to death" He said calmly, Mihawk freezing in his actions before he cracked a small smirk and continued his task at hand.

"I see" He said calmly continuing the task at hand. However was forced to stop just halfway through and pulled Alucares hair back in a low ponytail for the time being.

"Out of product.. We will be stopping in a village soon for your mother to stretch her legs- we will gather more hair product for you" he said calmly as Alucare stood from the chair and gave a short thanks.

Standing in the little general store Mihawk turned his head to see Alucare speaking with a girl- A pretty girl. How her cheeks were red and she was clearly swoon- Alucare also flirting back with a charmed smile on his face, he knew that look well.

It wasn't long till the three of you (four on the way) made it to a tiny village to get some supplies for the journey. Deciding a small store near the docks would have the hair supplies for the teen.

The young girl played with a lock of her dark brown hair, her ebony sparkling as Alucare clearly wooed her and she gave a shy nod. Earning a smile from his son and he nodded walking back towards you two- Noting that Mihawk had clearly noticed.

"Mother, they are having a summer festival in a few days, Would you like to attend?" Alucare asked, seeing how your face lit up at the idea. Chattering excitedly at wishing to do this as Mihawk stared at his spawn- Clever.

"What do you saw Mihawk? Wanna stay for the festival?" You ask softly, he looked in your eyes and knew he wouldn't refuse you. So he gave a soft nod to you. Alucare smirked at this as he clearly got what he had wanted- Grabbing the hair stuff he needed quickly he smirked. The Warlord hummed, knowing damn well what was to come soon.

In less then 5 hours his son was off running around with this girl- Mihawk saw how this girl and Alucare ran around the island together clearly he had wooed her a bit too well. Knowing that his son was plotting to win her heart and win something else before departing- The adventurous feeling of the sea clearly infecting him with wonder and interest. He had done the same, it came with being out on sea.

The day of the festival Mihawk was excited for all the wrong reason- Sure he was happy to get to spend the festive day with you but really he wanted to see the blow up that was about to happen-

A stolen kiss and a blushing of a innocent girl had Alucare confidence up and bolstered, even if he knew it may be cruel to do. On the second night Alucare snuck onto the ship, not expecting Mihawk to still be awake waiting for him as he cleaned his blade.

"You lied to her I take it?-" Mihawk asked, Already knowing the answer to the question. Alucare nodding silently-

"Her heart is going to be broken when she finds our you're leaving" He said calmly and met his sons gaze.

"That's why I won't tell her. Goodnight" He said shortly and headed to his Cabin on the ship. Mihawk shaking his head at this- Not under his watch.

Was this his live soap opera? Hell yes it was.

"Ready to head out back to sea Alucare? We need to leave by morning. Who is your friend here?" Mihawk said quite louder then his normal tone, purposely making sure the girl heard every word he said.

Once at the festival Alucare separated from you both rather quickly, most likely to enjoy himself elsewhere with the girl. Leaving the two of you alone to enjoy one another. The dancing, the food and even the drink had been fantastic. Seeing you dance and dress up for the lovely festivities had been worth every Berry he spent, the pretty festival clothes complimented you well and he couldn't help but keep his hands on you.

Truthfully having spent the day with you he had forgotten the whole ordeal with Alucare. Till he son his son running up a scenic hill for the firework show.

Staying for the fireworks with you he silently plotted what he would do. Knowing they would probably still be on that scenic hill once over- You were also pretty tuckered out and he didn't want to stress you or the baby. Getting you back to the ship to rest after the fireworks Mihawk set in his plan and went back out to the festive grounds to find his son and burst his little bubble.

"Ah there you are my Son" Mihawk said calmly as he walked towards the kissing teen couple- the two pulling away as Alucare eyes were as wide as saucers at being caught.

"Wait you're leaving?- You're family didn't move here?" She asked sharply, Alucare sending a murderous glare at his father. Not expecting the old man to not only catch him but also absolutely call him out on his bullshit.

"Seems so" He said nonchalantly, clearly trying to play it cool for being caught so bluntly. "It seems some things have changed so I will be leaving"

"You lied to me!" She hissed angrily, clenching her fist.

"I did-" He said calmly which made her angrier.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she fumed, Alucare stepping back as he tried to clearly step out of the emotional situation. However neither Mihawk nor Alucare expected what happened next- In a second she pulled back and pushing cheddar him square against the jaw with a bone bending strength.

Alucare stumbled back so hard Mihawk had to catch him and both their eyes were wide at such a hard punch from the little lady. Her eyes narrowed at both of them in anger and Mihawk had a wave of deja vu.

"I will not forget this Asshole!" She yelled, huffing as she stormed away angrily down the scenic hillside back to the village.

Mihawk standing Alucare up fully as both of them seemed a bit dazed. The two Dracule men walking back to the ship where you were waiting for them.

As Alucare boarded the ship he glanced to the side seeing his father with a amused gleam in his eyes as he waited for him to board.

"Was it fun heartbreaker?" He teased, earning a glare from the teenager as he grumbled and went on the ship. Ignoring the ache from his cheek which was sure to be blue and purple by the days end.

"Oh shut it-" Alucare grumbled as Mihawk gave a noise which was as close to a chuckle he got. Before the family retired to bed.

Once out to sea you had prepared your small family a meal and all seated in the ships small breakfast you scolded you son and gave him a ice pack for his swollen cheek.

"That was very unkind Alucare, I raised you better then that" You warn and he sighs at this, Accepting the verbal lashing he was getting from you.

"By the way- What was that poor girl's full name? You are going to send a apology to her" You tell him, still disappointed in your son for stealing that girls first kiss and lying to her.

Alucare paused his eating for a moment, thinking back "Beckman.. Lyra Beckman I believe-"

There was a mild choking noise from the older man, Mihawk sighed heavily at this as he rubbed his temple... Of fucking course it was...

[anon-sect]

"Your shoes really reek, dude. You need to air them out." Lenny complains to his roommate in his dorm room. Nick had been his roommate for the past three years at college. Somehow, they kept being put together each time. Each year, he had to put up with his foul-smelling running shoes. Nick was a 6'5" tall athlete jock on the college track team. He was running at least 7 miles just about every day. The odor from his favorite running pair was so pungent.

"They are my favorite to run in. And I am not changing them. So deal with it." Nick told him as he went to his next class, leaving the foul sneakers behind.

Lenny had enough of them. So he put them in a trash bag. He went to the garbage shot in the hallway and shoved them down the pipe. He was satisfied that he didn't have to smell them anymore.

While Lenny was napping, he was awoken by Nick. "You seen my running shoes? I can't find them." He was asked. He thought about lying to him, but the truth would come out eventually. "I threw them in the garbage shot. If you want them, you can go looking in the basement." He spoke as he turned over to ignore him to go back to napping.

Nick was upset. He really loved those shoes. What Lenny didn't know was that those sneakers were special. They were once a former human who used to bully him in the neighborhood. He turned him into sneakers to punish him. He loved torturing his former bully with his feet. Now, he needed a new replacement pair. Since Lenny decided to chunk his shoes without telling him first, he knew whom to replace his favorite pair of running shoes with.

Nick grabbed his TF device from his backpack and put in the setting for sneakers. He pointed at Lenny. With one flash, Lenny was reduced to a new pair of running sneakers. He picked them up to examine them. He pressed on the insoles. They seemed even better than his previous favorite.

Lenny instantly awoke to feel a change. He found himself split in half and in a different form. He felt fingers pressing down on his face. "You got rid of my favorite pair of running shoes. I really loved running on the bully that used to torment me in my neighborhood back home. That guy was a good pair of sneakers. But now you have to replace him. You will be my new favorite running sneakers. This is the consequence of throwing that other guy away without knowing the full truth." He heard Nick speak to him and laughed. The foul sneakers used to be a person all this time, and he chunk him like a common object. Now, this was his fate. He tried screaming for help but lacked any vocal ability. He couldn't even move on his own. He felt Nick place him on the floor. He had a sick feeling of what was coming next.

Nick placed his new running sneakers on the floor. He grabbed a pair of socks he wore for three days straight. He quickly sniffed them and saw the stench was horrible. The thought of Lenny having to deal with that made him smile. He put the stinky socks on his feet and put on his new favorite sneakers without a single care about Lenny.

Lenny would have gagged if he had a physical mouth. The socks that were now pressing down on his face was so foul, it smelled like something died in it. Next came the being walked on part. Each step felt like a building crushing him over and over. He could feel the floor and ground beneath him as though his back was being ground into it. He thought it couldn't get worse till Nick started running. He was in constant pain and agony feeling the ground beneath him and the foul stench of the socks bearing down on his insole face. As Nick continued to run on his usual nine-mile run, the socks began to get sweaty. The sweat combined with the stench saturated the inside of the sneakers. He now had no way to escape from the smell.

Nick returned back to the dorm room after his run. It was a little weird having it all to himself now. But he loved his new favorite sneakers. They were way better than the previous ones. He was glad those were gone. Lenny was a great replacement. If anyone asked about his roommate, he would tell them he didn't know where he was. Besides, no one would believe that he was turned into a pair of sneakers anyway. "You were excellent on my run. I am looking forward to running in you nearly every day. If anyone asks about you, I will not know where you went. Thanks for chunking those other shoes. You are much better than them." He told his shoes as he went to go take a shower. He loved that his new shoes already had his foot stench. It should be a badge of honor for Lenny to smell like his feet on day one.

Lenny regretted getting rid of the other sneakers. Had he known that he would be replacing them, he would have just suck it. Now his fate was the same as the other guy. He was Nick's sneakers, and no one would be the wiser.

[demonicbaby666]

Tears on the Window Pane

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Lena Luthor x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.6k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, toxic ex, jealousy, alcohol, rough sex, fingering, humiliation (if you look hard enough), semi-public sex, degradation, hair pulling, asphyxiation, daddy kink, top!Lena, bottom!reader

Summary: months after a breakup, you bump into your ex. Though the relationship was filled with turmoil, and you’d long since believed you’d learnt some valuable lessons from it, it seems you’re not as strong to resist as you think.

A/n: this was originally going to be an enemies-to-lovers story but then a devilish creature crawled out from a dark corner of my room, muttered mean!Lena really seductively in my ear, and I was helpless to fight what came over me then...

It was foggy that Friday night. National city's streets pulsed with life as people filtered out of bars and clubs, only to move on to the next, then the next. When their wobbly steps turned solely to stumbling, they would wave their white flags and surrender to the night or, better yet, early morning. That, too, is what your plan had been - to wander aimlessly with a group of friends until your head spun and your feet hurt, till the sun rose from beneath skyscrapers and the morning breeze would snip away at the lingering effects of hard liquor and cheap beer. Those plans, however, had been wholly derailed when you made your way into a club, and tendrils of cold shivers made their way up your spine, forcing your gaze to flicker over the swarming sea of sweaty bodies, landing on one person. 

If it were a year ago, a mousy smile could be caught stretched across your lips. A sudden timidness to being perceived by this goddess whom you'd once called your girlfriend may have even sent butterflies flittering low in your stomach. But a year ago, you were naive, blinded by flashing lights that coloured red, green and toxic, sweet. 

You stood there, hand in hand, with a stray girl your group had adopted for the night, past feelings dwindling low in your stomach as your mind walked the line between now and then. Fear had the muscles in your stomach tensing, pupils dilating, and legs refusing to heed the commands of the arm tugging you towards the bar. The other emotion you harboured was similar in nature. However, it differed in that although its predecessor forced your legs to remain rooted, this successor wedged them closed to alleviate the quickening pulse, growing thick and lively. 

Trying to ignore that even from a distance Lena's eyes had locked onto your every move with chilling precision, you elbowed your way to liquid relief. It had been your intention to leave after slinging back a few shots of watered-down vodka, but then came the shift - the subtle twist in your gut that made you courageous enough to entertain the attention you were receiving rather than cower away from it. 

With a turn of your head and a feeling of which direction to turn in, you granted yourself a few moments to really take the CEO in. She appeared to have come straight from a business meeting, dressed in a navy suit, surrounded by white-collared men and women all fighting to gain recognition. And yet, she gave them nothing. She remained silent. Eyes cemented on the light sway of your hips and the shrinking space between you and the unknown body lurking beside you. 

With each boom from the speakers and the accompanying shake of the floor, bodies morphed together until there was only Lena and the blur of scattered masses. The music died in your ears, reduced to a faint hum, and the constant pounding of the bass became secondary to the pounding of your heart. The beginning of a slow-motion step forward was attempted, the heel of your boot hitting the sticky floor before, "You want to dance?" 

The spell was broken. Music assaulted your eardrums. The reek of alcohol polluted your nose, and calloused fingers brushed your elbow before a tall figure obstructed your view, sporting an aggravatingly hopeful smile. 

"What?" you snapped, not realising how harsh your tone was until the man’s unabashed beam faltered. You tried again, this time softer. "It's loud in here. What did you say?"

There was a charming awkwardness to him. The way he rubbed a palm over the back of his neck and let out a nervous laugh made you feel bad for the guy.

"Come have a dance with me?" he asked, voice gruff but not entirely unpleasant. 

The human blockade made it hard to gauge if Lena was still watching, and in the absence of her scrutinising glare, you allowed yourself to be led to the crowded dancefloor. 

As the music flowed and your body moved, you let your mind wander. You thought back to the breakup and how the following months were spent re-wiring your brain, re-learning how to make decisions independently and cultivating a life centred around yourself. You’d told yourself it had been worth it. The freedom was blissful, and opportunities popped up where they had never seemed to before. But with the merriment came the bittersweet - evenings spent alone, men thinking they had free rein to eye fuck you and, occasionally, get handsy. A day didn't go by where you wouldn't crave the guidance and praise Lena bestowed. But more than anything, you missed the feeling of being wholly owned. It was that deep-rooted longing that had you looking back to Lena. 

Despite not being in a relationship with the woman, the look she was shooting at the poor man behind you led you to believe her claim over you was still unconquered, and that single fact should have sent you running. But once again, strobing lights really did have a way of distorting things. 

Her gaze remained fixed, and though it was unnerving, it was thrilling. Being with Lena was always like this. She was intense and stubborn and so damn territorial it spoke directly to the servile side of you in a way that nothing and no one else ever could. It made you desperate to bend to her will, no matter the costs. The only problem then was you weren’t hers to bend, and it became clear in that second that that needed to change. 

You kept up the act, dancing as provocatively as stilettos would allow and laughing along to rehearsed pickup lines. The last straw for the fuming brunette came when a pair of hands snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a muscled torso, and a pathetic little jab touched your ass. Lena was up on her feet and charging towards you in no time.

"Hands off,” the older woman growled, digging her blunt nails into your forearm and yanking you forward. 

"Take it easy.” The man tried to make a grab for you, but Lena beat him to it, stepping forward to shield you from his grasp. Instantly, he backed away, throwing his hands up. “I didn't know she was spoken for." 

"Shut the fuck up." Lena was seething, her jaw clenched and her eyes vicious. “If you even think of you touching her again, I'll chop your dick off and feed it to you."

She didn't wait for a reply to come or give notice to the small crowd that had formed around the three of you. Instead, Lena hauled you into the bathroom in record time, practically threw you into an open stall door and pressed your front firmly against the wall. 

"A few months, and you're already whoring yourself out,” came the surly voice from behind you. "Did you learn nothing?" 

"I," you tried to answer, but a hand fell over your mouth, silencing you. 

"You're disgusting,” she sneered. "What makes you think I care what you have to say?" 

The palm over your lips was held tight. There was no space between slim fingers and no room to breathe from anywhere other than your nose. A woeful whimper arose from the back of your throat, sounding so pathetic heat rushed to your face and painted your cheeks pink. 

The fact you knew, from experience, there was no way to get out of Lena's hold evaded you. From the surface level, it could be said you were under the assumption your sudden hike in mental strength extended to your physical. However, deep down, you knew the fight was what you and Lena needed. All that pent-up anger, resentment, and hunger required liberation, and together, that was something you always did well. 

"You're so desperate, aren't you?" Lena snarled, lodging her foot between your heels and wedging them apart until you were spread open for her. "I bet if I reached into your panties, I'd find you soaked." 

As predicted, the contentious grunt that heaved a puff of cool air out your nose and elbow to the gut sparked something primal in Lena. It forced her hand to the back of your neck, where she pushed your cheek harder into the wall and laid a stinging slap over your clothed cunt. The yelp that followed met a quick demise, cut off by bracketed fingers restricting your airways and survival instincts chose then to seek the help of your hands. They flailed about, aimlessly reaching out for Lena, begging her to stop or to give you more; you didn't know. All you knew was your mind's conflict. 

The top half of your body fought hard, shoulders driving back and forth, whilst the bottom speedily submitted, rocking against the minimal pressure Lena's palm offered and greedily pushing down to gain more stimulation. It was all in vain, of course. 

"Pathetic," she tutted, delivering another swift slap to your aching sex. "Little slut wants her pussy fucked?" 

"Lena, please,” you quietly sobbed. 

Swift as the wind, the brunette had your back to the wall, one hand gripping your jaw, the other holding your wrists above your head. 

"Please, what?" she goaded, pushing your head up to work the blank space of your neck with not-so-gentle bites, topping them off with soothing licks. 

"I d-don't know," you whined. 

It wasn't far from the truth. Your mind was hazy from alcohol. You were letting your body lead you into something you knew you’d later regret. But the scariest thing was that it didn't frighten you at all how willing you were to throw months of hard work away. You knew what you wanted. The problem was grappling with whether it'd be a good idea to say the words out loud. 

Your indecisiveness earned you a piercing pain that rang from the veins of your neck to the tiniest of capillaries in your toes. There was no way to see the irreparable damage done. Alas, there was no need. You felt the sharp edge of each tooth sink into your throat, marking you. The agony, however, was thankfully quashed seconds later as you received your second reprimand. Between the tearing of lace and Lena thrusting three fingers into your tight channel, there was no time to stop the ear-splitting moan that tumbled from your lips and bellowed over the bathroom stalls. The sound alone sent any remaining occupants fleeing in fits of laughter as your stomach sunk due to both mortification and arousal. 

With Lena's new hand placement came the opportunity to use your hands again. Instead of using this as a chance to fight back, you pulled Lena up from the nook of your neck and hastily interlocked your lips together in a frenzied kiss. She reciprocated at first, then drew a sharp breath before pulling away. You attempted to chase her. However, you were woefully mistaken in thinking you had the authority to initiate such an act again. A brutal strike of curling fingers taught you that, alongside the smirk you witnessed when your eyes flew wide open and a shove to your neck forced the back of your head to collide with the wall. Lena wasn't shy with her pace after that. It was like she was adamant about proving how easy it was for her to drive you crazy. 

Trailing fingers up your jaw to the back of your neck, Lena bundled your loose waves into a bun and tugged, forcing you to look into her blackened eyes as she frowned. "Do that again, and I'll bring you to the brink over and over again, then leave you here crying. Understand?"

You heeded the warning with fast nods and chants of 'yes, yes, yes', which seemed to please the brunette. She kept up her hurried movements, digits sliding rapidly up and down your hot canal, occasionally curling to stroke the rough patch of tissue that had you seeing stars. 

The closer you got, the harder it was to remain still, and when Lena didn't stop your hips from matching the flow of her ministrations, you were beyond grateful. In fact, the move garnered reward, specifically a svelte hand moving south to knead your breasts. It turned out this was only a distraction from the nimble thumb readying itself for work. A swipe to your clit followed the next hit to your sweet spot, and before you knew what was happening, your stomach muscles were convulsing, and pangs of liquid heat soared through every vein in your body. 

Your breaths were short and shallow. Lewd moans were given free rein to fill the four walls of the suffocating stall, and the thrumming bass coming from outside was being overtaken by the pulsing sound of blood pumping in your ears. Yet, somehow, through it all, you could still hear the shameful jabs Lena was throwing at you. 

"I'm going to,” you began, only to be cut off by a stern voice.

"I don't think so, honey,” she interjected. “Who decides when you get to come?" 

"Lena, oh god, Lena," you cried, squeezing around her fingers and trying to stop the tight coil in your gut from unfurling. "I can't!"

"Who tells you when you get to come?" Lena barked, slowing down. 

Tears were welling in your eyes, giving shine to the stars interspersed across your vision.

"You!" 

"Who?!" Lena sped up again, redoubled her efforts and slipped a fourth finger inside you, filling you so completely that your knees almost buckled beneath you. Even still, you weren't granted permission to release the strained muscles holding you from your orgasm. 

"Fuck!" you screamed. A tear spilt down the side of your face, your jaw shook, and blood coated your tongue as you bit the inside of your cheek, tearing into the smooth flesh. “You do, Daddy!" 

Just when you thought you might pass out, hot breath skimmed the shell of your ear, and Lena whispered the words that were your undoing. 

"I want everyone to hear you. Come nice and hard for Daddy."

Finally, you let go. All the pent-up tension rushed to the surface like a tidal wave. It submerged you in a whirlpool of flooding pleasure that had you shouting out for Lena, begging her to hold you steady whilst you shook and shook for what felt like hours. Her arm was around you in no time, providing a lifeline to hold onto whilst her fingers kept you under, massaging soft tissue. 

You stood there, mind numb, body useless, until the shudders passed, and Lena carefully pulled her fingers out of you. It wasn't until after feeling had returned to your legs and the strain of standing wasn't registering that you realised Lena was practically holding you up. Her arms were on your hips, and her body firmly pressed you to the wall, so there was no chance you'd keel over. 

When your eyes met, you detected the slightest bit of worry, making your heart skip a beat, and that alone was why you didn't argue when the next thing she said was, "I'm taking you back to mine."

It wasn't so much a walk to the car; rather, Lena stormed through the club, dragging you alongside her before slamming you against the back door of the vehicle and kissing you silly. At first, you were taken aback. Her reluctance to do just this only minutes ago was still echoing between your legs. You shook it off and accepted the moment for what it was: fleeting. That was when the rain started to fall, and the drunken mob's laughter erupted into roars of childlike amusement, and for the first time in a while, you felt content. 

You laughed and laughed and laughed, genuine bubbling girly giggles shaking your chest and vibrating between rain-kissed lips. 

"I'm so screwed," you half-whispered, half-sighed, nestling your head into Lena's neck. And as the sky cried a fresh set of trickling tears that splattered off the car's window panes, you happily bled a few of your own. 

"Mmm," the older woman hummed in agreement, kissing your temple lightly. “Yes, you are."

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[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 7: Awake

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Relief washes over Azriel. Nyra wakes up.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Azriel woke up in the healer’s quarters. The first thing he saw was the ceiling illuminated by daylight streaming into the room from the floor to ceiling windows. Upon sensing his discomfort, the shadows clouded his vision and slowly spread apart, giving him time to adjust to the light. They informed him that he had been unconscious for eight days.

He turned his head to the side and saw an unconscious Cassian. He saw how his brother’s wings were still being healed by the healers on surrounding him. One of those healers had seen him wake and rushed off, probably to alert Madja. There were bandages on his chest. And his shadows, half of them were not even there with him.

“How are you feeling?” The old lady asked just as she met his gaze.

“Mild pain in the chest. Weak limbs from lack of physical activity.” Azriel’s response sounded more like a healer’s diagnosis. He had found it easier to tell them what he thought whenever the healers asked him how he felt. A rarity when you counted his brothers who would try to lie and get out as soon as possible.

“Restrict your physical activity till the pain subsides and let the wounds heal. Your wings are fine but keep flapping them every now and then so that they don't feel unused once your body heals.”

A shadowy snake slithered through the air, startling one of Madja’s assistants. His shriek attracted everyone’s attention in the form of a glare. The shadow approached him and curled next to his ear and shoulder. Mate. And all sense had been lost when the shadow whispered that word and the rest of them echoed after it. He discovered that half of his shadows were with her.

Rhysand appeared by the door, looking at him with wide eyes. The moment Azriel registered him, Rhys was already walking towards him. This was not the High Lord but a brother. And he breathed in relief once he saw Azriel awake and healing. He strode over and hugged the shadowsinger tightly. Azriel did his best to conceal his painful groans. Rhys needed this assurance that he was there and Az would give it.

After taking an update on Cassian, Rhys took him and winnowed to the sky above the House of Wind. The two of them landed at the House of Wind. Cassian was still confined to the healer’s quarters and had yet to wake up.

"Where's she?" Azriel walked inside, still shirtless and chest covered in bandages and reeking of whatever medicine that had been used on him for his recovery.

“Fifth floor. She has yet to wake up. Madja says that everything is fine but she’s in a magical sleep of sorts. She’ll wake up only when things stabilise within her. And that’ll take time.” Rhys was pacing after Azriel and he knew the shadowsinger would not stop.

Azriel had heard Rhysand but he walked quicker. The worry and the anxiety, it seemed, were killing him. Mor was already there near the hall which led to her sisters’ rooms, waiting for them. The shadows told him which room was hers and he did not stop.

He passed by Mor who had just exited Nesta’s room. Completely ignored her greeting and moved forward. He halted right in front of her door. For someone who marched forward to Nyra’s room like he’d march into battle, Azriel suddenly lost all confidence. The shadows by Nyra’s side were whispering to the ones crawling on him.

Mate. Sleeping. Soft. Strong.

Azriel’s knees gave up on him and tears flowed down his cheeks. He felt relief, happy, comfort and most of all, safe. Even with him outside the room, he felt safe with the warmth of the mating bond. It was like a faint pulse. Thrumming slowly and nearly silent. He had to focus to feel it. It was a familiar beat. His own heartbeat had changed to match this the night he met Nyra for the first time. When more shadows were born. He felt her on the other side, a quiet presence slumbering peacefully.

Azriel's hand barely touched the door and curled into a fist. The shadowsinger barely registered as the High Lord helped him up his feet and opened the door. They walked into the room with Rhys supporting him lest he fall to his knees again.

Healthy. Strong. The shadows by his side fluttered over to her, ready to care for her and do anything she desired. If only she would wake up. He did not understand what he was feeling. Relief, maybe, because she was alive. He had yet to figure himself out.

The shadows seemed to be reassuring him that she was here. That she would be here. That she was connected to him. And a part of him immediately submitted to this female. The longing to be loved by her started growing. It was a small sprout with a baby leaf, barely there. Next to it was another sprout. The longing to love her with all that he was.

And then he saw it. The magic coursing through her. Felt it in his own bones and blood as if it was his own. What power was that? There seemed to be no limit to it. Azriel watched all of his shadows watch over her carefully. Very few tendrils escaped and caressed her cheek, played with a few hairs. A bunch of them tried to hold her hand but he was quick to rein them in forcefully. He heard Rhysand's footsteps retreat to the outside.

Azriel watched her for mere minutes before he gathered himself and exited the room. Rhysand and Nesta stood outside. They were sizing each other up when the shadowsinger walker out and gently closed the room. They heard the door and not his footsteps. Nesta was openly glaring at him.

“What authority permitted you to enter her room ?” Nesta could care less about Azriel’s freshly dried tears and tired eyes. About the healing he had to still continue.

“I’m sorry. I just…” Azriel did not have the energy to right anyone anymore. “I’m just so glad.”

“Glad that we were dragged into this mess? Made fae by that disgusting cauldron you worship?”

“She’s healthier than when she was mortal.” Azriel did not comprehend Nesta's anger even when he was looking at her face shaped by wrath. Tears pooled in his eyes. "She's healthy." His voice was a whisper that the wind picked up.

Nesta opened her mouth to speak but she did not have anything to say. Could not think of anything to say. “Then why hasn’t she woken up?”

“She hasn’t woken up?” Nesta’s question had Azriel looking to Rhys for answers. Azriel sounded so small, so hopeless at that moment that Nesta was inclined to feel the slightest pity for him. She shoved that feeling down whatever hole it crawled out from.

“She hasn’t.” Rhysand confirmed.

“How long?”

“Eight days.” Rhys turned to Nesta, feeling responsible for what happened to the sisters in Hybern. “We’re trying our best. I have scholars and healers looking into the matter.”

Nesta looked away, pained by the thoughts taking over her. “Will she wake up?” A tear escaped her.

“You woke up. Elain woke up. She will also wake up.” Rhysand sounded determined. He had dragged the sisters into this mess. The sisters after being Made turned out to be his brothers’ mate. One had a mating bond trying her to a Vanserra but that was of little importance right now. Nesta would go mad any day now. Elain was not even in her senses. Nyra was still in a deep slumber. And Feyre was away.

"And what is that?" Nesta pointed towards Azriel's chest.

"Bandages?" Rhysand answered but it sounded more like a question due to his confusion.

"Not the bandages. That thread." Nesta's hand moved forward and grabbed at a string the males could not see. She pulled it and Azriel felt his heart shoot up to his throat. She let go of the string quickly after seeing how Azriel had jolted but the shadowsinger had immediately reentered the room. Nyra's sleeping position had changed. As if someone had tried to shake her to wake up.

"That was probably the mating bond." Azriel answered Nesta, still looking at the sleeping female.

"You're her mate?" Nesta was also now looking at her twin. Azriel hummed. "Is that a problem?"

For a while, she did not answer. She kept thinking about the bond that had led Rhysand to set foot into the mortal lands. At that thought, she looked at Rhysand who looked at her questioningly. Then she looked at Azriel and then back to Nyra. "I don't know."

****

Two more weeks had passed. Nyra was still in some sort of magical sleep. Nesta was getting angrier. It was almost a surprise that she did not claw into Rhysand these recent days. Elain had spoken a few words but that was just answers to questions related to food and water. She could be heard mumbling something inconsequential. Nesta spent her days between their rooms and the library.

Feyre had finally returned home from the Spring Court albeit with a guest who was not exactly welcome or unwelcome. It was evident that Lucien Vanserra was here for his mate, the Archeron who had been mumbling everything under the sun that did not make sense to anyone. Feyre had bathed, made love to her mate and now moved to visit each of her sisters. 

Nesta was anger personified. She ignored her as though she’d been a mere servant than the High Lady of the Night Court. Even after being informed of Feyre destroying the Spring Court. “Elain is not fine. She’s been saying things which do not make sense and Nyra has yet to wake up.”

“We will soon figure out-“ Rhysand’s attempt at a diplomatic answer was interrupted by the raging sister. 

“My sister was full of life before we were dragged into this mess. And my twin, despite being ill, was at least awake to talk to me. And now, even with an immortal body, she has yet to wake up.” Nesta took a deep breath. “So don’t give me this nonsense. Give me the truth, pure and straight.” 

Rhysand inhaled. He knew the moment Nesta was pushed into the Cauldron that she would not let what happened to her sisters slide. That she would refrain from controlling whatever deathly power from the Cauldron that rested within if it meant she could go and break the King’s neck. And Rhysand did not want to stop her or be her target.

“Our healers say that there’s nothing physically wrong with them. Everything is fine. Organs are functioning well. Even the flow of magic is completely fine.” 

“Bring in someone better.” Nesta was one more moment away from slitting his throat. Rhysand nodded and took a few steps back. And even then, he did not understand why Nesta treated Feyre differently from Elain and Nyra. Feyre did not know the answer to that herself.

Feyre stepped forward and dared to ask. “What happened inside the Cauldron?” Nesta glared at her. “Nyra and you were thrown in together. Maybe if you could tell us something about that, it could help us figure out a solution faster.” 

Nesta stared at Feyre and exhaled. She closed her eyes and the memories flooded in. The Cauldron, cold and mocking. It had been an infuriating thing. It was absolutely unacceptable. Even remembering it was painful. How Nyra’s body was just floating without no movement of its own. Not even a single breath. She pressed her hand to her temple. She had to remember. For Nyra. Her sister. Her twin. They had shared everything from a womb to clothes and secrets and lives and lies. 

And then it came to her. That string she saw. It emerged from Nyra’s heart and twirled down her left arm and floated away from her to a male. The string had wrapped around him just like it had Nyra. The winged man with blue gems. 

“Azriel. He needs to hear what I’m going to say.” Nesta was looking straight at Rhysand who nodded. Azriel walked in a few minutes later, his face calm. 

“You asked for me?” Azriel spoke, his voice not giving away a single hint of the worry he held for Nyra. 

“Nyra died in the Cauldron.” Nesta did not mince words. She did not do anything to beat around the bush. But the only thing she knew about the winged male in front of her was that he could understand. That he would understand. Two weeks ago, she did not know whether their mating bond was a problem or not. Now, it was their only chance.

“I know.” It took every bit of control Azriel had forged in the last five hundred years to let the pain be revealed. 

“And then she came to life.” Azriel nodded. “There was a thread connecting her to you. You’re connected to her the same way Rhysand and Feyre are connected, aren’t you?” Azriel nodded again. “Use that to call out to her.”

She would not use that word—mate. Not in her life would she ever acknowledge such a thing. It sounded too romantic to be real. And with Rhysand and Feyre and their mating bond on display, it sounded like an excuse to be shackled. More so when she remembered Elain and Lucien.

“Did you see anything that explained how?” Nesta shook her head. And the sadness in her eyes resulted in Azriel saying something before he could even control himself. “We’ll figure it out.” Shock graced Nesta’s features for a mere second before she wore her mask of composure and nodded. Azriel pivoted, nodded at his High Lady and High Lord and exited the room wordlessly. 

“How?” Nesta almost lost her balance and Feyre darted forward to help support her, looking at her worriedly. “How does this connection work?” 

Outside the room, Cassian perked up at that question. Azriel, who had not really left the area, laid a hand on his shoulder in a silent request to retain control. 

Cassian looked at his brother and they knew each other. They knew how much Rhys and Feyre loved each other. How beautiful the mating bond had been for their brother. And if a chance at something so beautiful and with such purpose would appear for them then why wouldn’t they try? Why wouldn’t they try to know the females connected to them? 

They knew the Archeron sisters were fierce in their own way with their love. Nesta was ferocious. She would claw her way out of hell for Nyra and Elain. Nyra was calm and cool. She loved with loyalty and all her life. Elain was kind and hopeful. Feyre had actually fought for her love and had died for that even if that was for the wrong male but there was no doubt that she’d go beyond for Rhys.

Cassian and Azriel had already been loved by Feyre for being family. And that was a very powerful love they shared with Feyre. She was Iike a younger sister to them. 

Deep in his heart, the General knew that Nesta’s feelings would be an impact. It would not be gentle like a breeze. It would strike him in the chest like a spear. And it would change everything even he did not understand. And he knew Nesta was not just any other female he'd fancy. She was it. Everything—the beginning and the end. But she had been hurt in the worst way possible by being witness to her sister’s sufferings. She’d been thrown into the Cauldron with her twin and had been the only one to see her die. 

Cassian was familiar with that sort of feeling. They felt it when Rhys had been trapped for fifty years. With Rhys, they knew he was out there and alive but he was also being subject to something worse than death. And here, Nesta had seen Nyra fall ill, her condition worsen and finally die. 

And heavens knew what Azriel was feeling. Maybe Rhys did. The High Lord had witnessed his mate die to free the male she loved back then. Had felt the bond almost rip before Feyre clawed her way back to the world of the living. She described the feeling as returning home. And that was it. Home was Rhysand. Home was her mate, ready to rip into the minds of the High Lords to get her another chance to live. Home was her mate ready to die after her despite the short time they had. 

But what about Az?

The shadowsinger had felt the bond rip apart from his chest when Maia died five centuries ago. There was the huge hole in his soul that their family only partially managed to fill. And then he’d met Nyra. Sick and frail and still so lovely as the first blush of dawn. And then he felt her die. And the bond remained. Cassian did not know what that felt like and he selfishly hoped to never know. 

Whatever Azriel felt when Nyra came back to life as a fae, Cassian did not know. What he did know was how Azriel was now worried for her and would watch over her. His shadows were already liking her. Cassian knew of Azriel’s fierce loyalty when it came to love. He’d known and loved and lost Maia and now his mate had reincarnated. And now, Nyra was here, in a deep sleep no one seemed to be able to wake her up from. 

“What did you feel?” Cassian suddenly asked. Azriel looked his way. “When Nyra was in the Cauldron.” 

Azriel looked at the wall in front of him. The worry of his mate and her never waking up removed all restraints he placed on his emotions leaking out of him. And this was Cassian. His brother who had taught him how to fly. Who’d stuck by him ever since he met him. The first person to whom he’d confined about his hands. And suddenly. The river began flowing.

“I’ve felt her ever since I met her.” That was new information. But then again nothing about Azriel was normal. Maybe that extended to the female who was his mate. This was a shadowsinger and his mate who had reincarnated. Her birth was the Bone Carver's prophecy come true.

“I had left behind my shadows here when we visited them for the first time.” Another exhale. “But new shadows were born. They were excited, ready to go to her. They told me everything about her. When a strand of her hair moved to her cheek. When she adjusted her clothes. They’d analyse the colour of her dress and rave about it and how it suited her for hours. It was irritating at first.” Azriel leaned on the wall next to Cassian. “New shadows are like babies. They usually keep babbling until I calm them down. But these new ones never calmed down because I never allowed them to go to her. I'm going to leave the older shadows with her because they behave better than the newborns.” 

“I have felt her through the newborns when she was mortal and now I feel her through…” Azriel trailed away, not daring to say the word. As though saying it would result in him losing it. The mating bond was a blessing, he was sure of it. But to say it out loud would be to doom it. “I feel her. And I felt her die and come back. And I was already dying. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to follow her.” To death. 

Oh, Cassian was starting to understand Azriel. Or maybe he did not. Maybe he did not want to understand. He did not want to know that feeling.

“Call out to her, Azriel.” Rhys spoke from the entrance of Nesta’s room. Azriel looked at him once, knowing completely that he had been listening to his rant. The shadowsinger would never begin a rant without his barriers if he didn’t know how many people could hear. “Call out to her before it’s too late.” 

And the burning feeling in his chest rose till it was a flame, leaving behind smoke and ash for him to suffocate on. And in his panic, he did not realise it until he and his shadows caught the bond together and tugged once. He reigned them back, hoping that the tug did not harm her in any way. And by the time he was breathing heavily with Cassian and Rhys holding him up, the air thrummed around them. 

He knew it. 

He would always know it. 

Nyra Archeron was awake. 

****

Nyra felt tired. She felt like she had a very satisfying sleep but maybe it was for too long. Her eyes opened once and then it closed, hoping that there was still more time to sleep. The rays of the evening sun crept through the translucent curtains. She turned and closed her eyes and opened them. Someone was watching her. She looked at the person watching her straight in the eye. 

A female emerged from the walls as though she was travelling through them. It was a picture of an angel of death. Nyra remained confused but then she felt something. The absence of something. There was no more pain in her chest. And the presence of something. Whatever that was, she had yet to identify.

“Lady Nyra.” The wraith began. “My name is Nuala. I am-“ but Nyra did not let her continue.

“Am I dead?” 

Nuala was startled for a second before she answered. “No, you’re not.”

Nyra sat up and looked  around at the unfamiliar surroundings. “What is this place, if not the afterlife?” 

“We’re at Velaris, the Court of Dreams.” Nuala smiled warmly. As warmly as woman with a cool presence did. “It is a city in the Night Court.”

She closed her eyes and racked her brains. Velaris. It sounded familiar. Where has she heard it before?

“Feyre Archeron is the High Lady of the Night Court. She rules alongside her mate, Rhysand, the High Lord.” 

Nyra blinked once and twice and thrice. “Are you talking about some other Feyre Archeron or my youngest sister?”

“I am referring to your youngest sister.” Nuala watched Nyra in her inner turmoil. The tea she wanted was prepared by now. “This is chamomile tea. It’ll help with your headache.” The Archeron looked at her and then at the cup.

“May I?” Nuala gestured at the bed, asking permission to sit. Nyra nodded. The female sat next to her on the bed and handed her the mug. Nyra took a slow sip before continuing. 

This lady was beautiful. With dark skin and darker hair, she truly looked like an angel of death and that prompted a question. “Are you sure I’m not dead?” Nuala looked surprised before she shook her head. 

Nobody talked for a while. Nyra continued to drink her tea, feeling a little better with every sip. Once the tea was finished, she handed the mug to Nuala. By then night had fallen, and a blanket of stars had graced the skies of Velaris. Nyra looked at it and did not look away. 

“May I ask you something?” Nuala’s voice made her look away from the starry skies. Nyra nodded.

“Why do you keep asking me if you’re dead? Is there some discomfort you feel?”

Nyra placed a hand on her chest and looked down as though she could see her insides and whatever that had once plagued her. She clutched the white nightgown and closed her eyes. “Because it doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

In fact, she felt nice. Like a warm blanket wrapped around her in an embrace. She relished it. Closed her eyes and hummed faintly.

****

Outside the room, Azriel clenched his hands in his pathetic attempt to stop crying. She was alive. Safe. Healthy. He had been waiting so long for her. And now that she was here, he did not know which deity to thank, which power to bow before. He did not know much about Nyra but the relief he kept feeling was infinite. And he when he saw Nesta, he let his tears flow.

"She's awake." Nesta looked at him, wide-eyed but she did not enter the room like he had expected. She gave him the first smile and raised her arms. In an act of surprise, Azriel hugged her as he cried into her arms. "She's safe."

****

A/N: Hello. I think Nesta and Azriel share one of the most beautiful friendships I've ever read about.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag

[cokou]

Could I request a Eustass Kid x reader Drabble where it’s just the reader pampering him? Just giving him the love and sweet praise he deserves? Could be sfw or nsfw.

Pampering Madness 甘やかす狂気

Kidd × F!Reader キッド×エフ！読者

event. 100 followers event! Requests all open till 17th of July 2024. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sum. Giving Kidd a helping hand after a tiresome day. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. Smut/MDNI! Dom!Reader. Blow Job. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. HI ANONY! TYSM FOR REQUESTIINGGG, I hope i gave you exactly what you had asked for, tysm once againn!! //Do not translate or transfer my works, this is my only account. Will not be crossposted anywhere. // Masterlist♡

The sun sets as evening falls once again. Sitting and waiting inside Kidd's bedroom as he continued working in his workshop for hours in days. You were sitting on his bed crossed-leged, having a glass of water right by the bedside table where all different sorts of cords were tangled.

As you wait for his appearance, you decided to raid his room once again. You stood up, approaching his little drawers and pulling them open, rummaging through different sort of items stored inside. Closing them, you now approached his closet, which, unfortunately wouldn't open from all the jacked up clothes ramming the door.

Whilst raiding his room, you heard the doorknob twist and was followed by loud bang from the door being thrown over the wall once again, the wall had a permanent marking of the dooeknob hitting it more than once.

Kidd enters the room and a sigh following, he looks around the room and found you looking at his stuff.

"The hell are ya' doin?" He approaches the bed and slumps himself over it while he looks at your direction, he raises his brows in curiosity of what you were doing.

"Just doing a room raid, you know." You stop rummaging through his stuff and leaving quite a huge mess by the floor.

"Well you better let that shit go." You gave him a thumbs up and you approach his bed, you climb over it and making yourself some room for yourself. Slumping yourself on Eustass and burying your face on his chest.

"How'd your day go?" You lift your head up to look at him, he reeked the smell of sweat, and a bit of a foul aura.

"Fucking shit! Did you know that damn little invention kept on failing?! Shit took lot's of hours away from me!" He sits up, looking a bit irritated.

"Just lay down and rest, Eustass." You forcefully lay him down onto the bed once again, gently touching his shoulders and massaging them, his head on your lap. "You know, even if it did fail, I'm sure you made lots of efforts just for that little piece. You'll manage to do it you know."

"Obviously! You know that shits blueprint had tons'a steps and numbers to follow, where the fuck did i mess up?!" His muscles tense up as he gives out his remark.

" Kidd— I'm sure you can fix it up in another day? You know I'll be happy to help you with anything. I don't mind some business." You continued massaging his shoulders, making him relax his muscles again. You caught the sound of his heavy breathing across the silent room.

"Anything? You got shit to relieve my stress then?" He shrugs of your hands from his shoulders as he sits up on the bed.

"Sure thing! Just lay on the bed, c'mon."

As he lays down, you climb over to him. Looming over his giant body, you snake your way into his touch and kissing him, he reciprocates the kiss and makes it deeper. His tongue begs to be inside your mouth as the kiss become more and more sloppy, sharing salivas with each other, drool dripping at the corner of your mouths, and the soft sound of your mouths squelching from the saliva could be heard.

You pull away from him and carresses his cheeks, "y' did so good." You snake your hands onto his abdomen, trailing gentle touches on his v-line. Bringing your mouth over to that part, you shower his abdomen with feather light kisses. You carefully unbuckle his belt, removing his bottoms and freeing his semi-hard cock.

You trace his tip with your index finger and gave it kitten licks.

"Stop fucking teasing." His impatience grows as he looks at you. You open your mouth, taking his coxk inside slowly, making sure to take every last drop of it. Trying your best to hold your gag reflex, you started bobbing your mouth on his cock slowly, taking all his size.

Kidd grabs a handful of your hair and shoves you deeper, controlling your movements. His large hand displaying on your hair, tangled. You fasten up your pace more, earning grunts from Eustass. He loosens his grip onto your hair as he felt his climax reaching out soon, tightening his grip on your hair once again. Soon enough, he releases inside your mouth, making you take every single last drop of his cum.

"Stay down, Eustass. Let me relieve you." You remove your shorts together with your little underwear as you crawl ontop of him, you gave him a soft peck on his cheeks.

Grabbing his cock gently, you guide it upon your entrance as you slowly sink yourself on him. You give yourself time to adjust on his length, he was big. He was stretching that little hole of yours that it simply felt like he was splitting you in half.

Kidd holds onto your waists, slowly lifting you up and slamming you back down on him, making you moan slightly. You lift up yourself and slamming against him, thrusting yourself slowly on his cock. His cock glistens with your essence all over it, you feel him growing inside your right funt as you slowly take over for him.

You begin thrusting yourself more onto him as he guides you with his hands on your waist. The pace fastens ever so slowly,

"I knew you had it in you do shit like this." Eustass gives you a shit eating grin, almost like he was ripping you into shreds.

"W-What? I-I'm just taking care of you ya'know..." You release a shaky moan as the pace was much faster now, slapping noises erupting from the two of you, together with rhe squelching sounds from your cunt. You hold yourself onto him as you moan and thrusting yourself on him.

"Doing so good Kidd.." you incoherently praise him as he generally wants to break you down right now.

Eustass releases pretty grunts and groans while he mutter swear words under his hitching breath. As you ride him, the oace now was definitely a lot faster and rougher than what was started with. The room covered in moans and grunts, together with skins colliding with each other. Sweat dripping on one's forehead from the heat. You felt Eustass fasten the pace, growing rougher each thrts he gave you.

He was close, and so were you. You warn him about the upcoming climax and so does he. You two were moaning and groaning so loud, you could've swore you heard someone by the door. After a while, Eustass cums inside you and you too had reached your orgasm.

"Where the fuck you think yer going? We're not done yet." Eustass grbas you by the hair and throws you onto the bed, this time, he was the one to loom over you. I suppose the night is still young afterall. "And by the way, that was the best ride I've got my whole life."

©Cokou 2024, all works belongs to me.

[silky-nereid]

— running away is easy

links : Art Deco dividers, Art nouveau dividers, Orange dividers and continuation of bee’s knees & memory’s regret

Yandere!cheater (Gerald) x Married!reader/you x Yandere!firework owner (Ray)

a/n: hopefully this oneshot makes sense and I apologize if it doesn’t make sense.

tw : violence (someone gets punched.), dehumanizing terms ( it, this thing.)

You finished getting ready, wearing light clothes to try and battle the scorching heat that decided to finally come down. You walked down the empty opulent hallways, walls lined with extravagant paintings. You heard a familiar sound of a dial telephone ringing from the dark oak double doors, pushing open the door to see a room mirroring a library.

A chandelier hung off the ceiling that depicted the latest swirls and elegance, rows and rows of bookshelves. Your hand grazed yet you decided to grab the receiver, holding it against your ear and grabbing the stem and pressed your lips closer to the mouthpiece.

“Hello?” Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. “How were you able to get this line? I am not going back today.”

You paced in small circles around the library, you saw them gesturing to the phone. Your hands let go of the receiver to let them continue the conversation with him which you decided to take the time to disconnect and you opened a book to read but the pages weren’t cut; they must not read often. You faintly heard the subtle remarks that they gave to him but you knew that he would always find a crack and open it more while roughly putting back the receiver on the holder.

Their footsteps trailed closer to you as they poked their head in the row that you were in with a hand on their hip, then started adjusting their cufflinks.

“Let’s go for a drive?” They suggested. “A drive will do us some good.”

You agreed to go through with a drive with a boiling sun whose rays felt that it would melt your skin off your nervous bones. It was somewhat going well, they had asked multiple times if you wanted to go shopping since it seemed that they had time to spare but you had declined the offers.

You used a handkerchief to cover your nose, trying to not breathe in the rancid stench of the sewers that seemed to be amplified by the boiling sun. The drive that ended up in the beginning, your hometown. The entrance was somewhat well taken care of and it still reeked of the elegance that you hadn’t missed.

“What are we doing here?” You asked.

“I wanted to bring you back home to present myself to your parents.” Their eyes stared straight ahead, not even glancing at you. “For when we marry.”

“What?” You stopped fanning yourself with your hand to look at them. “Do you hear yourself, Ray? Can you drive us back?”

The sound of whistling wind was something that you had gotten used to in the forced drive back to their home, you saw their tightened grip on the steering wheel. Your eyes looked at the roundabout as it had been filled up with a familiar car that you knew too well. Ray helped you out of the car, your eyes noticed the crooked frames of the hallway and the remains of a cleanup from a shattered vase as the paintings seemed to be hanging off a thread.

“Stay here,” they said. “ I will be back to figure out what happened.”

You crossed your arms, waited till their footsteps became distant echoes down the long hallways and followed the remaining coverups of a destruction that led to a dark oak door which had a small opening, your eyes winced at the sudden brightness from the lightbulbs but noticed who sat on the pink striped cabriole.

“I told you to stay there, dear.” Ray’s footsteps hurried down the hallway, grabbing your shoulders to face them. “Why couldn’t you listen to me? You could have gotten hurt.”

A subtle cough escaped his lips which you pulled away from them, stepping into the lounge that seemed to be decorated with lesser tastes. The room seemed to desperately mimic the insides of a hotel room that hadn’t been cleaned in days or weeks but it had bits of elegance that couldn’t be hidden despite the filth. The ashtray held fresh butts of cigars which rolled your eyes since it seems that he would later ask for a light or for a cigarette from your golden case tucked in your pocket.

You sat in the floral settee, your trembling hand tightly gripped the cushions from the armrest that seemed to shatter in your mind. Your free hand held a small chunk of ice wrapped in a small towel and pressed it against your neck that was drenched in sweat. Ray stood behind the floral settee, their hands rested on the wooden frame while glimmering rings decorated their fingers.

“Why are you here?” Ray broke the silence and looked at him. “How did you get in here?”

“To get back what is mine,” he responded. “They’re married to me, remember not to you. A bootlegger. I was let in clearly but this tiny escapade will end now but how unsightly for you, Ray.”

“Bootlegger?” You looked at them with confusion then to Gerald. “They’re no bootlegger, they just own a couple of shops downtown I believe.”

”Don’t tell me that you believe those rancid lies and I thought you knew everything about them,” Gerald scoffed. “They’re a bootlegger. They’re the very thing that corrupts good people like you.”

Gerald smiled at you but the smile never reached his eyes, rolling up his sleeves and strolling towards the miniature bar. His hands meticulously grabbed the ingredients which was an old fashioned glass, remaining ice that hadn’t melted yet from the heat, bourbon. He poured himself a drink and planted himself down next to you, his free arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“They want to tell you something, Gerald.” Ray stepped towards you, pulling you up. “Say it, you’ve been practicing. It’s your moment, dear.”

Your eyes watered from the heat, legs shaking in unbridled fear.

“I—I want to leave you.” Your eyes looked up at Ray then to him. “I’m going to leave you.”

Gerald’s smile dropped, placing the glass on the nearby table. He dabbed away the sweat with a towel and discarded it on the floral settee.

“There I told him. Can we go now? It’s too hot.” Your trembling back touched the windowsill, tugging on Ray’s cuff. “Ray, please. Let’s just go.”

“You have filled up their brain with this nonsense.” Gerald stared at Ray and got up, standing a foot away from them. “With these putrid fantasies, why can’t you understand that they do not love you despite everything you have done for them. They love me, they married me, not you.“

“They don’t love you,” Ray replied. “Dear, say it. That you never loved him, you need to break from him and I will treat you better. I won’t be like him, I won’t bring women home, I’ll be loyal to you. Just say it once.”

“See,” he said,” they can’t say it because they love me. It was one time that I brought someone home but I didn’t do it again, did I? Did the gentleman who was found ashore in the papers also get this so-called loyalty?”

Your trembling hands pulled Ray’s fist that seemed to be made of steel away from Gerald, your nails scratched their forearm causing beads of blood to form while tears streamed down your face. He turned to see you sobbing with Ray looming over you, trying to calm you down but you didn’t want to be around Ray. Your voice cracked from shouting at Ray and how it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Are you sure this is what you wanted and not what this thing is saying?” Gerald held his bloodied nose with a towel that he discarded on the settee. “It’s blatantly obvious that it needs to control this temper then who knows what will happen to you and I will not be able to protect you. Are you sure this is what you are leaving me for?”

You untangled yourself from Ray’s web and standing between him and them, your back touched the floral printed wall. Your blurry vision darted from them to him, hearing the familiar noise of a heartbeat in your ears. Trembling legs that inched away from Ray despite them having their arms out and using their hands seemingly trying to push down on something nonexistent to get closer to you; was this supposed to be calming?

“Dear, this isn’t like you.” They urged you to come to them with each step. “Come to me and I’ll give you what you need.”

“You hardly know them.” Gerald looked at Ray with a burning glance. “Just because they took refuge in this cesspool that you call a home does not mean that they will go to you.”

Yandere! Cheater ending

You inched closer to him and Gerald slowly began to wave you over while he stepped back. Your hands squeezed his forearm, he wiped the remaining dried blood from his nose before tucking the discarded bloodied towel in his pocket.

“It seems that they made their decision.”Gerald kissed the side of your temple. “Let’s go to the car. A drive will do us good.”

Gerald’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His footsteps guided out the door and down the marble steps till a tug on your wrist snapped you back into the humid reality.

“You don’t have to go to him,” Ray said. “Look at me, please. You can still make this right.”

Gerald pulled your wrist out of their grasp and helped you inside the car. His free hand drew circles in space where thumb met the index finger, the smile finally reached his eyes through the drive home back to the small world across the dock.

Your eyes looked at the blue sky shifting and exposing the insides of oranges, pinks, and purples. The sky had been dyed pitch black with glimmering rhinestones stitched into the fabric, he helped you out. Your coat had been peeled off your shoulders and you expected to hear only your footsteps and the occasional servants but it was doubled with his.

“Why the change of heart, Gerald?” You asked. “Why have you decided to stay rather than going into her arms?”

“You seemed distracted more than ever,” he replied. “She can wait but it seems that I have neglected you for far too long, haven’t I?”

Gerald guided you once more to the bedroom, his hands carefully peeled away your clothes to be replaced with your comfortable nightwear and he sat you down on the cabriole.

“What did you do to me?” Your knees pressed up against your chest and eyes tracing the custom design on the cabriole. “I don’t know where I begin and where you end.”

Gerald’s eyes looked at you and his footsteps stopped at the side of the cabriole’s armrest. You looked up at him, a warm hand that held yours and slipping on your wedding ring. His hands held your face up and he seemed to try to understand the knots and tangles of your mind.

“We have stayed here too long, don’t you agree?” He asked. “Let’s go on a trip and this time you get to choose where we go. Would you like this?”

You agreed that he sat down next to you and wrapped his arm around you, your fingertips traced the circles on his knuckles; feeling the vein, warmth, and calloused palms.

Yandere! Firework owner ending

You held the wedding ring that made you tethered to him, it was a piece of melted metal that meant something special years ago but it meant nothing now. Gerald’s lips grew into a smile, taking back the ring and asking for a light and a cigarette.

“Someone will get your things.” He looked at you and them. “I won’t be there if this fails.”

Gerald’s footsteps echoed throughout the hallways till it became a distant memory in the halls.

Days had passed which Ray’s eyes seemed to remind you of a cat’s pupils that would grow bigger each time they saw you despite now living in the same house.

You were wearing comfortable loose clothes and sat on one of the lounge chairs, seeing the house that was once yours across the dock; how small and insignificant it looked. Ray’s hands held you delicately as if their body was molded specifically to hold you, their fingertips drew swirls on your spine that caused your hands to tighten on the back of their coat.

“Did I hurt you?” They stopped the swirls. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“It’s alright.” You smiled, holding their face that seemed to be the boiling sun in your hands. “Are you alright? Has your hand healed?”

“It’s just a scratch.” They showed their bandaged hand. “Nothing new, my love.”

Ray’s eyes admired your wonderful features, often asking if you secretly were a noble who bewitched them with your very presence.

Your grip tightened on their forearm with each step towards your old childhood home.

“Why are we here again?” You asked. “Can’t we do this another day?“

“To get your parents' blessing.” They looked at you. “Love, we must do this since we cannot push this back even further.”

You watched the familiar door open to be greeted by an older couple whose face molded into happier faces. Surely, they are looking for someone else.

The furniture was in the same exact place since you left, your knuckles knocked on the wooden door frame to get rid of remaining thoughts that decided to bury themselves in your brain. You disliked the suffocating taste of the home, standing on the steps and hearing the excited footsteps of Ray.

“I got the blessing, my love.” They smiled. “Are you alright?”

“Let’s just go to the car,” you replied.

Ray walked and helped you into the car, you could feel the boiling excitement from underneath their very skin.

“Do you think that we could go to the beach?” You smiled. “I haven’t been there in ages.”

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

Doflaming, Cora (Rosinante) and Law protecting Fem!Reader from an abusive Ex

Warning: Physical abuse, mention of verbal abuse, and hinted manipulation

🦩Doflamingo🦩

Word Count:394

He was watching, for a bit she was new to the “family,” and she had brought an idiot lover with her as he made the offer for her to join his family. She had refused unless her lover was with her joining his family. Doflamingo frowned when she had asked and made the offer to her.

He watched the man she wanted to invite reeking of alcohol as he wrapped his arms around her waist pushing her closer into his arms and smirking. He was like a leech as he stuck to her side, aware that without her he would have nothing.

“That sounds fine,” Doflamingo said, he needed her talent and if that man took one step outline he would rid of him. By then she would be deep in Doflamingo’s clutches anyway. Or that was the plan. “One wrong move and he is out,” she agreed to the terms.

Unfortunately, the man had managed to stay longer than Doflamingo had hoped. He turned on the charm in front of everyone, his lack of talent in the battlefield or even member of the family went unnoticed for a while as he tried to weasel his way around each member.

But the day came when he lost the charming smile, the family was celebrating their victory again. How easy it was to fool the marines, how they were in Doflamingo’s hand and being manipulated like puppets on a string. After a few drinks did his charming smile disappear after she dropped her cup onto his lap.

He started shouting at her cursing her out. The table watched before he lifted his arm ready to slap her but couldn’t move, his hands held back by Doflamingo strings. The blond man in a large pink suit smiled seeing the horror on the other man’s face, “I warned you one wrong move and you are out,” he flicked his finger sending the man flying to the ocean.

He let the man off too easy, but he didn’t want to spoil the mood of the party by spraying blood everywhere, instead, he took a seat by her. She turned to Doflamingo and smiled thanking him before he pushed her into a kiss. She thankfully kissed him back before he deepend it. He knew the perfect place to end this celebration with her in his room, in his bed.

💖Corazon (Rosinante)💖

Word Count: 338

She was a new recruit working under him as he showed her the ropes and what was to be expected in the Marines, from mopping the hallway to even fighting off a pirate invasion. She was good and diligent in taking notes and asking the correct questions.

 It was almost sad when their time together training was done but fortunately, she was under him and he would run into her often, when out in the hallway. And sometimes he would time his walks or exits just to see her and greet her with a soft smile and invite her to lunch.

But one lunch was too much to handle when she invited her boyfriend. The boy took a seat next to her not much taller than her and ordered her to get his lunch while he talked to Rosinante hoping to woo the older marine.

The conversation with the guy was simple, talking about his accomplishments and such and himself. Whenever Cora changed to the subject on the woman, he would soon get reminded that they weren’t alone, and he was there to talk about what he liked to do and throw orders at his girlfriend. A few lunch dates went on like this for a while Cora getting angrier but couldn’t say anything after all she seemed happy till she finally spoke up.

She finally had enough of him talking about himself she wanted to talk to Rosinante the jerk glared at the woman he was dating before lifting his hand ready to strike, Rosinante quickly stopped his hand from touching her cheek.

“YOU ARE A MARINE,” He nearly shouted, “Your job is to protect,” he pushed the jerk down to the floor as he glanced at the tall marine surprised before scrabbling off leaving Rosinante alone with his crush. “You should break up with him,” he told her.

“I plan too,” she smiled and took his hand and kissed his cheek, “thank you for saving me,” she said,

A few days later Rosinante would ask her out.

🐅Law🐅

Word Count: 395

Law had noticed the marks on her skin when she came for checkups, she lied saying such obvious likes like falling down the stairs or hitting the door when opening it. He was annoyed how easily she liked protecting the asshole, but he couldn’t do much about that after all she was a stranger, but it didn’t stop him from whispering in her ears his advice on how to leave him.

She would stare at him wide eye feeling his lips brush against her ear, his bread brushing against her skin. She blushed a bit and stared at him, her heart hammering harder in her chest as she stared at the handsome doctor with the golden eyes staring at her before her eyes flickered to her boyfriend who was waiting by the door.

“Please….save me,” she whispered. He knew better than to say anything right now as both men stared down at one another. The weaker of the male eager to leave. He stared at the woman with fantastic eyes and such and her eyes closed to tears. He would listen to her wishes.

He needed to protect her. He enjoyed the small conversations he had with her when her boyfriend wasn’t around, and he didn’t want to put her in danger anymore. He waited as the man walked towards him; he tried being charming tried talking to Law in a calm manner but it was easy to see he was getting angry.

“She is my girlfriend,” he finally said, “I think you should let go of her,” he was running towards Law and the girl ready to attack her.

“I think she is over you,” he held his hand up, “ROOM, SHAMBLES,” he cut the man into two pieces before picking up the young woman's bridal style. “Get near her again and you won’t live to see another day.

The girl wrapped her arms around Law’s neck and whispered words of thanks as he took her to his ship where he could have a full examination of her.

It took a while till she felt comfortable around Law as she adjusted to the Heart Crew but in the private room in the middle of the examination did, she share a private kiss with him. Thanking him for saving her but most of all for reminding her that she was also deserving of love and safety.

[queenshelby]

The Client (Rewritten)

Part One: Starting Out

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (37) & Reader (35)

Note: In this fic Cillian is a lawyer, helping the reader after she becomes a victim of domestic abuse.

It was one of those days again where James was seething with anger. Exhausted from overwork, his mounting stress erupted in a torrent of fury directed at you.

"Didn't I fucking tell you to clean up this mess an hour ago?” he bellowed the moment he barged in at 6 o’clock, his eyes ablaze with disapproval. You knew that yet again, your efforts fell short of his demanding standards.

“James, I am sorry. I lost track of time. I was in the garden…” you faltered, justifying yourself, avoiding his piercing gaze as you spoke.

“When I talk to you, you look at me! Understood?” James hissed as he yanked your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his imposing glare.

"I-I'm sorry, i-it won't happen again, I promise," you whimpered in fear, the sting of his slap still fresh on your face as you crumpled to the floor.

Without warning, he had struck you once more, the scalding tears tracing a path down your cheeks.

"Look at the things you make me do Y/N! I don't want be the bad guy here," James muttered, hoisting you to your feet as you wiped away the evidence of your pain.

“I am…” you attempted to speak, but he cut you off abruptly.

"I am sorry. I overreacted,” remorse etched on his face, though you didn't want his apology, refusing to meet his gaze as he enveloped you in a suffocating embrace.

“Okay,” you choked on a sob, swallowing hard. Words failed you, a suffocating fear gripping your heart.

Nine weeks pregnant with your unborn child, the last thing you wanted was to draw his wrath further. It wasn’t the first time his fists struck you, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. Amidst his tirades and vicious cycles of abuse, his apologies felt hollow, the promise of change a mere illusion.

"Come on now, Y/N. Some of the senior associates are coming over tomorrow, and I need this place spotless! You don’t want to embarrass me, do you?” James remarked as he released you, prompting you to nod meekly and reach for the vacuum cleaner.

Without wasting a single moment, you attacked the housework, vacuuming and scrubbing with a frenzied determination. Every inch of the furniture received your fierce dusting, and not even the windows escaped your meticulous cleaning. By around 9 o’clock, you had conquered the tasks, but the exhaustion had already settled in.

As you completed your chores, you ascended the stairs to the bathroom, yearning for a brief respite under the warm water. Wrapping a towel around your trembling frame, you hastened to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable, but your attire failed to appease your husband's dissatisfaction.

“For once, could you not make an effort for me? I am your husband, after all,” James seethed, his breath reeking of alcohol as he barged into the room, making his presence felt.

He must have faced a brutal day, likely losing a pivotal legal battle, a realization that spelled trouble for you.

“Please, James, not now,” you pleaded, your words trembling with fear as he advanced towards you menacingly.

"You are mine. You will obey. If I desire, you will submit. You are good for nothing else," James growled, his tone dripping with malice as he forcefully pushed you against the wall, his grip tightening.

"James, please, I'm pregnant. You know this," you cried out amidst tears, attempting to evade his suffocating presence.

"So what?" James spat venomously. "That doesn't exempt you from my needs. On your knees, now," he commanded, gripping your hair and throat mercilessly, his wrath escalating.

"Stop! Just stop!" you begged, your voice breaking as you struggled against his brutal advances, triggering his unchecked fury.

He suddenly kicked your stomach, first once and then twice and slapped you till your face was bleeding once again.  

He was full of rage, and you couldn't make it stop. You were just going to let him do this to you because you didn’t have any strength anymore to fight him. You started seeing dark everywhere and before you knew it you blacked out.

Hours later, you woke up at the local hospital, engulfed by searing pain and exhaustion. Despite the haunting memories of what had befallen you, you chose to keep silent about the truth.

“I fell down the stairs,” you feebly explained to the nurse, offering a feigned facade. Unfamiliar with your history, she dismissed it as a minor accident.

But beneath her seemingly indifferent exterior, a flicker of concern burned brightly. As she somberly delivered the news of your lost child, you found a peculiar solace in the revelation, casting shadows of doubt on your inner turmoil.

“You appear oddly composed despite your loss. Is there anything I can do for you? I can arrange for a psychologist or call your husband to be here with you,” the nurse endeavored to comfort you, sensing an unseen weight upon your shoulders.

“The pregnancy was not planned. I didn't really want another child, so I will be fine,” you mumbled uncertainly, concealing the painful truth that your husband had manipulated you into this plight.

As you pondered your bleak predicament, the specter of freedom beckoned. Yet, with nothing to your name, escape seemed as elusive as a wisp of smoke.

“But, actually…” you hesitated just as the nurse was about to depart.

“Can you please call my brother for me? I don't have my phone on me, and I don't have a wallet either,” you implored, hoping against hope that the nurse would grant you this one favor and that your brother would pick up your call after almost a decade of silence.

“Of course, use my phone,” the nurse offered kindly, extending the lifeline you sought. With Dermont's number etched into your memory, you dialed it, engulfed by a mix of trepidation and longing.

After about three rings , a rough, familiar voice answered, "Who is this?"

"It's me. Please don't hang up ," you blurted out hastily, anxious the nurse wouldn't witness the conversation unfold given how you had parted ways with Dermont many years ago.

A brief pause followed, and your breath hitched, amplifying the suspense.

"Y/N," he finally said, his tone laced with surprise and perhaps a sliver of compassion. The name he hadn't uttered in so long seemed to weigh upon him, dragging up dusty memories of a shared past.

"I'm at the hospital. Can you come? I need your help. I have nowhere else to turn," you murmured into the phone, your voice cracking with unshed tears.

The heaviness of those words hung in the air, enveloped by a thick silence. You could barely discern whether he was mulling over your request or simply wrestling with the fervent desire to hang up.

"Which hospital?" Dermont asked, his tone now a shade softer. It seemed there was always a piece of him, deep within his heart that wouldn't abandon you despite your troubled past.

"Mater Private. I'm on the fourth floor," you mumbled as you swallowed the lump in your throat, anticipating the decision that could change the trajectory of your life forever.

"All right. I'm on my way," Dermont reassured, trying to hide the unease lacing his voice.

The phone call terminated, leaving you on tenterhooks, the enormity of your actions mercilessly sinking in.

The nurse watched you with gentle eyes, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. A whirlpool of agonizing vulnerability consumed you, spreading barbed tendrils of panic but somehow you knew that, at least for now, you were safe. Dermont would be coming from you and you would not have to face James again. 

Hours later, at Cillian's House....

It was around midnight when Cillian’s phone rang, ripping him out of his sleep.

“Jesus, why is someone calling you so late?” Janette, Cillian's paralegal, yelped while laying next to him. She pulled the doona over her face to cover her ears, trying to block out the unexpected interruption. Cillian and her had been entangled in an on-and-off romance for a few months now. It wasn't anything serious, just innocent fun on restless occasions.

“It’s a friend. It’s probably urgent,” Cillian murmured to her before taking the call and, as Dermont's panicky voice flooded his ears, a sense of urgency gripped him.

Barely shaking off the dregs of sleep, he scrambled out of bed, his actions fueled by instinct.

"What's going on, Dermont?" Cillian asked hurriedly, his mind shifting gears as he mentally prepared to handle whatever crisis his friend was in. 

“I urgently need an AVO. It can't wait,” Dermont nervously admitted and Cillian could hear the strain in his voice. 

"What the fuck for?" he wanted to know, thinking that Dermont had gotten himself in trouble and what he heard next made him forget all about his restless night.

"It's for my sister, Y/N. I swear, she needs it urgently. She's at the hospital because her sick bastard of a husband did beat her up again," Dermont explained and the sudden mention of your name made Cillian bolt upright. 

"How bad are her injuries? Is she alright?"  Cillian queried urgently, concern etching lines onto his face. The strong defenses he had erected around his heart began to weaken, an unspoken history pulling him under. Despite having lost touch with you just over sixteen years ago, memories of you remained vivid.

Dermont sighed before replying, "The doctors and nurses managed to deal with the damage. She's alive but she her entire body is covered in bruises,"  Dermont's voice cracked, conveying his helplessness at the distance that had grown between them after all these years.

"Did she report him to the police?" Cillian asked through clenched teeth, his cool demeanor betraying an intense surge of anger.

"Not yet. She's scared, man. She is really scared," Dermont whispered, the weight of his words settling menacingly in the air. 

"Listen, there is nothing we can really do tonight. You need to take her to the shelter on York Street. She'll be safe there. They provide emergency accommodation in cases like this. Come to my office with her tomorrow morning, at 8 o’clock and we'll start the paperwork,” Cillian advised, his mind racing through scenarios to ensure everyone's safety.  "Oh, and Dermont, get her a prepaid phone. She shouldn't be using hers in case her husband is tracking her," Cillian added as an afterthought, knowing that dangerous men like James often went to great lengths to control and harm their victims.

"Thanks, man," Dermont responded appreciatively, the reality that his friend was offering a much-needed olive branch sinking in.

"Of course. I will see you both tomorrow," Cillian agreed as he terminated the call with a sense of purpose coursing through his veins. As he glanced at Janette, who had since emerged from beneath the covers, a spark of clarity illuminated his eyes.

"What happened?" she wanted to know as Cillian climbed back into bed beside her.

"My friend's sister needs an AVO. Her husband has been beating her for a while I think and she just ended up in hospital tonight," Cillian pensively uttered the words as he slipped back into bed, disrupting the tranquility of the room that suddenly seemed tainted by the overwhelming gravity of the situation.

Janette blinked, slowly awakening to this revelation and the evident distress on Cillian's face. 

"I don't get it," she said softly. "Why are you even getting involved in this? You no longer do this kind of work and should refer her to Legal Aid rather than taking this case pro-bono which I know is what you are going to do." 

Cillian let out a sigh before replying, "Because he is my best friend, and I knew her from when we were young. We basically grew up in the same neighborhood."  he clarified, while absentmindedly toying with a loose thread on the blanket.

"Okay sure," she replied, immediately lapsing into a trance-like silence. With furrowed eyebrows and a partly sealed mouth, Janette's disapproval lingered uncomfortably in the room. "But honestly, do you even think that she will accept your help? If her husband has been doing this to her for a while, then she might even go back to him after a you bring a lawsuit," Janette interjected, the skepticism evident in her voice. "She's obviously got mental issues. Women who allow men to do this kind of stuff for a prolonged period of time usually have other things going on with them Cillian and you may not be able to save her," Janette persisted, exposing her doubts about the situation at hand.

Cillian felt a pang of defensiveness on behalf of you which was something he hadn't seen in over a decade and a half. "She isn't that type of woman, trust me. I knew her quite well," he stated emphatically, as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair before sighing deeply. "Let's just get back to sleep, alright?" he then murmured, draping an arm around Janette's waist. But his mind remained restless, preoccupied with thoughts of your predicament and, to make matters even worse, when had fallen back asleep, Cillian's thoughts drifted back to their shared past, resurrecting memories of a time when life seemed infinitely simpler.

One evening in particular entered his mind. It was a cold autumn night just over sixteen years ago. You had just turned 18 the month before and Cillian was visiting Cork during his Semester break.  It was Dermont's 20th Birthday and Cillian had traveled all the way from Dublin to join the celebration. 

Spotting you in the corner of the room that evening, Cillian's pulse quickened as usual. He had been feeling this irresistible pull towards you for years, but never had the courage to utter a word about it. 

"Hey," he finally said, approaching you timidly, holding a little parcel in his hand. 

"Oh hey. I didn't even know that you were coming," you responded excitedly as you spotted him.

Your smile was as dazzling as ever, bathing his heart in warmth.

"Well, I wouldn't miss your brother's birthday for the world," Cillian replied with a wink, handing over the present wrapped in shiny blue paper.  "And this is for you I suppose. I am sorry it is a bit late. So, happy belated18th birthday," he told you, his heart pounding in his chest like a wild drum.

"You shouldn't have gotten me anything," you smiled as you unwrapped the gift with your slender, small fingers revealing a bracelet featuring your favorite animal.

"Oh wow, Cillian. Thank you," you exclaimed, that warm smile lighting up your face once more, sending a flutter through Cillian's heart.

"I'm glad you like it," Cillian replied, his own mouth curving into a grin as he marveled at your unbridled delight. "I first thought getting you jewelry was weird, but I don't know, when I saw it, it seemed really fitting somehow,"  he confided, a certain vulnerability in his voice which you found both surprising and endearing.

Your fingers grazed the intricately designed silver badger, its keen little eyes gazing back at you, seeming almost fiercely protective. 

"It's perfect," you told him before leaning in to kiss his cheek.  The gesture was innocent, yet it ignited a lingering warmth between you two - a feeling that left Cillian both thrilled and lovesick.

The night wore on, and the party dwindled to a close, but that brief encounter remained etched in Cillian's memory. He sought you out a few times that evening and, eventually, he found you outside, enveloped by the chill of the night. The atmosphere was saturated with a heavy silence, the hushed rustling of leaves playing an eerie melody in the darkness. The soft glow emanating from the house cast shadows upon the garden as he hesitantly approached.

"Avoiding the drunken crowds?" Cillian asked as he sat down next to you on the big swinging bench which you always assumed to be from the seventies. In his hand, he held a pint of Guinness and you reached for it to take a sip.

Your fingers made contact with his, setting off a current that surprised both of you. "I almost forgot that you are old enough to drink now ," Cillian mentioned, trying to bring the electricity in the air back down to normal levels.

"It's not my first sip of beer, but don't tell alright?" you chuckled , before cautiously taking a mouthful of the bitter drink.

Cillian's lips spread into a warm smile, enjoying your carefree laughter. It was a sound he wished to hear more often, although he realized he knew very little about what made you truly happy. "Scout's honor," Cillian nodded, the corner of his lips twitching in a soft smile.

The frosty night descended around you, weaving in the shared quietness and the stirring breeze.

As you handed the beer glass back to Cillian, you brushed your fingertips gently against his, the little shock still radiating like a cozy secret between the two of you. Cillian studied your face, reading the emotions swimming at the surface of your eyes. Something so genuine and comely: it was invigorating, and he couldn't seem to glance away.

"I know I've never said this, but honestly, I always quite liked you, you know ," Cillian quietly admitted, baring his soul to you. Opening up to his best friend's younger sister—the girl he pined for relentlessly throughout adolescence—felt both breathtaking and slightly terrifying.

"Really?" you queried, attempting to keep your wavering voice steady. "Why didn't you say something?" you asked, the words barely audible, as a nervous flutter rose within you. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, mirroring the tumultuous storm brewing within your heart.

Cillian let out a soft chuckle before answering, "I'm not sure, really. You were young, and I was neither mature nor brave enough to express my feelings. I don't know,"  Cillian said with a shake in his voice, bashfully lowering his gaze. The vulnerability emanating from his statement filled you with a deep warmth, especially when he raised his eyes to meet yours again.

As you stared at each other, a wave of intensity rippled between you. "I kinda liked you too , y'know," you confessed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the depth of Cillian's ocean blue eyes.

"In fact, I always had the biggest crush on you but just when I was ready to tell you were dating Siobhan O'Connor and  I hated that. I thought you would never notice me," you admitted nervously.

Cillian looked taken aback, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"What? That can't be," Cillian countered. "Of course, I noticed you! You had always been the most beautiful girl at every party we went to," Cillian cheerfully insisted, causing a soft blush to grace your cheeks. 

"Do you still think so?" you asked, your voice barely audible as a shiver of anticipation coursed down your spine. You shuffled closer, your breath hitching when your thighs brushed tantalizingly against Cillian's. Suddenly, he felt like the only solid thing in a world of chaos.

Cillian's gaze dropped to your lips, and in that moment, he knew that you two had been dancing around each other for far too long. 

"Yes, I do. You are beautiful,"  Cillian whispered hoarsely, leaning in to cup your face gently. Your eyes fluttered shut, and his lips met yours in a searing kiss that turned the world upside down. Every fear, every moment of hesitation dissipated like smoke in the night, replaced by the thunderous wave of desire.

You hesitated at first, unsure of how to react to the sudden turn of events as you had never been touched with such tenderness, and it took a moment to adjust.

Yet, as Cillian deepened the kiss, you realized that something seemed to awaken within you—a heavy hunger you didn’t know existed.

With shaky hands, you reached for his face, tracing your fingers his jawline. Cillian reacted with a low groan, tightening his arms around your waist. You tugged at the bottom edge of his sweater, desperate to feel more of him pressed up against you.

"Do you want to go to my room?" you murmured, pulling away just enough to speak. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Cillian heard you loud and clear as if it was the most reasonable thing anyone has ever asked him. Albeit sensing your nervousness, he nodded and, shortly after that you led him to your room while everything around you seemed to blur.

You locked the door behind you, taking a brief moment to survey the room that was once yours but now seemed foreign.

The single bed was pushed against the wall, and a vanity littered with makeup and hair supplies occupied the other corner. But all of that faded into the background as you turned to face Cillian.

"We probably shouldn't tell Dermont about this," you murmured with a hesitant smile and Cillian chuckled softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face.

"Probably not," he replied, caressing your cheek gently.

As he leaned in to kiss you once more, you could feel the heat rising between you two. Your breath hitched as his hands roamed your body, and you clung to him greedily, running your fingers through his hair.

Cillian's fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping under it to touch the warm, smooth skin beneath.

You shivered nervously  , but didn't stop him. Instead, you pulled him closer, your fingers digging into his back.

Cillian kissed you harder, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands moved up to cup your breasts, and you arched your back, moaning into his mouth.

You could feel his hardness pressing into your hip, and you reached down to touch him over his jeans.

Cillian hissed, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. "Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You bit your lip, feeling reckless and wild. "I never, you know , did it before," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to, with you."

"Are you sure? We don't have to,"  Cillian said, searching your face for any signs of hesitation or uncertainty. But you only saw concern and care in his eyes - a stark contrast to the hunger and desire that had consumed you both just moments earlier.

"I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to pull him down onto the bed with you for another kiss. Your bodies pressed together, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. Cillian's hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before settling on the button of your jeans.

With trembling fingers, he undid the button and slid the zipper down, revealing the lacy red thong that lay beneath.

You watched him, your breath hitching as his gaze dropped to your lower half. Cillian swallowed hard, his throat dry as he saw the dampness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice ragged. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your jeans and dragged them down your legs, leaving you laying there in just your thong and your snug fitting t-shirt.   The anticipation coiled tight in your belly while you watched him stand and remove his own clothes, letting them fall to the floor where his shoes already lay discarded.

His body was lean and covered in freckles. Your eyes were drawn to the firm muscles of his abs, your gaze tracing the lines and ridges formed by his body. Then they wandered lower, to the bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs. 

You quickly sat up and pulled off your t-shirt , tossing it aside with eagerness, revealing your bare breasts for the first time to his gaze. 

You sat there nervously  , anticipation and excitement coiling in your belly. Your nipples hardened under his gaze and you couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Cillian said, as he knelt on the bed and crawled towards you, trailing his fingers over your skin. You inhaled sharply and leaned back to allow him access. He gently caressed one breast and then the other, before leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. You gasped as his hot mouth closed around it, and your body trembled under his touch.

The sensation of his tongue swirling around your nipple sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pooling in your core.

You let out a low moan, arching your back as he teased you. Your hands roved over his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your fingertips. Cillian's hand traced a path from your breasts, down your stomach, until he reached the apex of your thighs.

He hooked his finger into the hem of your thong and slowly pulled it down your legs, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine as he stared at your naked body, taking in every inch of you.

His gaze was intense, filled with desire and longing.

His eyes met yours, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply.

His tongue plunged into your mouth, dancing with yours in a sensual rhythm that mirrored the movements of his fingers.

Cillian gently explored the folds of your pussy, discovering your slick wetness and groaning into the kiss.

He slipped a finger inside you, and you gasped at the sensation, your hips bucking upwards to meet his touch. He added a second finger, stretching you open and preparing you for what was to come.

Cillian broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and over your collarbone. He suckled at your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with his tongue before continuing his journey down your body.

He planted soft kisses along your stomach, inching lower and lower until he reached the apex of your thighs. You spread your legs wider, allowing him access to the most intimate part of your being, the scent of your arousal heavy in the air.

Cillian wasted no time in exploring you further, spreading your lips apart with his thumbs and diving his tongue into your wetness. You cried out, your fingers finding their way into his hair, holding him in place as you ground yourself against his face.

"Holy shit, I didn't expect that," you panted, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as his tongue flicked expertly against your clit.

Cillian groaned against your wetness, his hands spreading you wider open as he feasted upon you. The sensation of his tongue delving into your most intimate places was almost too much to bear, and you struggled to keep your sanity as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Don't stop," you pleaded, your fingers tightening in his hair as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

"Cillian, please, don't stop." Your voice was a breathy whisper, urging him to continue his assault on your senses.

Cillian eagerly obliged, redoubling his efforts and bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. His tongue fluttered against your clit, and his fingers plunged deeper inside you, curling up to stroke the sensitive spot within.

The sensation was indescribable, and you felt your orgasm building, spiraling higher and higher until it threatened to consume you entirely.

"Cillian!" you shouted his name as your release crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body shuddered, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Cillian didn't relent, his tongue continuing to circle and flick against your sensitive clit, drawing out your orgasm for what felt like an eternity. When you could finally take no more, you pushed his head away gently, panting and gasping for air. He looked up at you with satisfied eyes, crawling up your body to kiss you deeply, sharing the taste of your release with you.

It was the strangest but most satisfying experience , feeling his face slick with your desire, knowing that it was because he had pleasured you in the most earth-shattering way possible.

He brushed the hair away from your sweaty forehead, murmuring sweet words of love and adoration.

"You taste fucking delicious," Cillian whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his lips traced the shell of your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for another searing kiss.

As you were kissing, you reached into his briefs , wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. Cillian hissed, his hips bucking forward as you began to stroke him firmly.

"Goddamn, Y/N," Cillian growled, his blue eyes dark with desire as he watched your every move. "You're going to make me come like this."

"That's the idea," you purred, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-come that had gathered there.

"No, really," Cillian tried to sound stern, but even he could hear the barely concealed desperation in his voice. You chuckled and continued your assault, your hand moving faster and faster along his length. "I wanted this for so long. I need to feel you. All of you,"  Cillian moaned, as you released his manhood from the confines of the briefs. His cock was thick and pulsating with need, and you couldn’t help but marvel at its size and girth. Cillian leaned back, resting himself on his knees, giving you the perfect view. His muscles rippled in the dim light, and the sweat glistening on his skin only added to his allure.

He pushed his briefs all the way off , tossing them to the side and leaving him completely bare.

You couldn't take your eyes off him, mesmerized by the sight of him fully naked before you. He was a work of art, and you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the male form before you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Cillian asked, his voice low and husky. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Y/N."

But you knew what you wanted.

"I want to, Cillian. I want all of you," you whispered and, with that, Cillian was on top of you, his lips crushing down on yours in a passionate kiss.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, and you couldn't help but squirm underneath him, eager for him to enter you.

"Please, Cillian," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me."

Cillian didn't need any further encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your slick folds. He hesitated for a moment, savoring the feeling of your wetness against him.

Then, with a slow and deliberate thrust, he entered you, filling you up completely. You gasped as he bottomed out inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Shit," you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Don't move yet," you begged, still adjusting to the sensation of him inside you.

Cillian obeyed, resting his forehead against yours, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back. You could feel the pulse of his cock inside you, and it sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"How does it feel?" Cillian asked, his voice strained. You could see the strain in his eyes too, the effort it took for him to hold back.

"Strange. But in a good way," you replied quietly, your breath hitching as he shifted inside you, causing your walls to clench around him.

"Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?" Cillian whispered, concern etched on his face.

"No, no, I want more," you reassured him, your hands roaming down his back and gripping his firm buttocks.

Cillian took your cue and began to move, slowly at first, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. With each thrust, his cock hit a sensitive spot inside you, eliciting a gasp every time. The smell of sweat and sex filled the room, and your bodies slapped together, creating a primal symphony that echoed through the space.

"Oh god , don't stop," you panted, your legs tightening around Cillian's waist as he thrusted into you gently, but precisely.  Your bodies melded into one, slick with sweat and desire, every movement bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Cillian's thrusts became more insistent, and your moans grew louder as he hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl.

"I can feel how wet you are for me, Y/N," Cillian whispered, his voice husky with lust.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring the corners of your mouth as he continued to thrust into you.

You moaned against his lips, your legs wrapped around his waist as you took every inch of him. The friction of his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls was driving you crazy, and it didn't take long before you felt another orgasm building inside you.

Cillian must have felt the same because he started to build his own rhythm, driving himself harder and faster into your writhing body.

"I am so close. Oh god fuck," you panted, your fingers digging into Cillian's back as your body tensed up and you released a loud moan . The intensity of the orgasm shook you to your core, making you dizzy and disoriented. Your walls clenched around Cillian's cock, the sensation sending him over the edge.

With a loud groan, Cillian came inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you up with his warm seed. He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he caught his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as your bodies slowly came down from the intense high.

Cillian's breathing was heavy, his heart pounding against your chest. You could feel his sweat mingling with yours, creating a sticky mixture that coated your skin.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "That was intense," he gasped and you moaned loudly again as he slowly pulled out.

"Yes it was," you agreed, shivering as the cool air touched your wetness. You could feel Cillian's warmth seeping out of you, merging with the sticky fluid that dripped down to your thighs. The sensation was oddly comforting and erotic at the same time, causing you to lick your lips in anticipation.

Cillian leaned in to kiss you once more, but before you could reciprocate, there was a sudden knock on the door.

"Y/N, are you in there?" you heard your brother ask and you quickly covered Cillian's mouth with your hand before responding.  "Yes, Dermont, what do you want?" you said, trying to compose yourself. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you could still feel Cillian's warmth seeping out of you.

Cillian shot you a puzzled look, but you just shook your head slightly, indicating that he should stay quiet. He looked confused but thankfully didn't protest.

"I was looking for Cillian. Do you know where he went?" your brother asked and you were quick to respond.

"Nope , I haven't seen him," you lied, trying to hide the panic in your voice. Your heart was racing, and your body still hummed with pleasure from the intense lovemaking session you had just shared with Cillian. You could feel a blush creeping up your neck as you tried to remain calm.

"Alright," Dermont said, sounding disappointed. "Well, I'll catch up with him later then. If you see him, let him know that he left his  phone in the living room," Dermont said, his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

As soon as you heard the front door close, you let out a sigh of relief.

"That was close," you whispered to Cillian, who was still lying on top of you and  he chuckled, his breath hot against your ear.

"Too close," he agreed and then he kissed you once more before having to say his farewell for the evening. It was one and only time you had slept with each other before Cillian returned to Dublin for his studies and you went to Australia for your gap-year and whilst Cillian had promised to wait for you, life had other plans. 

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[nymph-ette111]

hiiiiiii!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) could you do a simon cof x sweet, feminine reader headcannons? made my own headcannons to share with you because ily and i love this prompt(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

♡ i imagine reader and simon would go out, hes wearing the same crusty ass grey hoodie while shes dressed up all cute and pretty >.<

♡ he reeks of nicotine while she smells like neapolitan marshmallows<3 hes obsessed with her scent. he literally loves using her bodycare/haircare products over his 3 in 1 men shampoo (if he even showers that is) because he'd smell more like her.

♡ she shares absolutely everything of her purchases. she'd do little mini hauls to Simon, showcasing her new pink ballerina flats, sugarbunnies plushie she had to fight a war for in mercari, too faced chocolate bar palette, cute japanese stationary, and a lot of new clothes. Simon loves it. he loves seeing her happy. (may even buy her things he thinks she would love if he didn't have a smoking addiction<3)

♡ she doesnt only share that though she also loves talking his ears off about anything and everything<3 at first he was annoyed with her constant talking but when he spoke of it, she stopped talking so much and he got guilty and missed her overtalking. he tried to bring her spark back in talking and it worked

♡ shes compassionate and kind, understanding his struggles (but not condoning his actions) and helping him to get better. (he really wants to be saved by her but feels that he just cannot.)

♡ he really doesn't get why she's with him. Hes depressed, miserable, and difficult to be with. His low self esteem sometimes gets the best of him and he starts believing that he's not worthy of her, often leaving her on read, missing her calls, and ignoring her. (im sensing attachment issues) reader clutches w communication though :3

♡ they'd explore abandoned buildings. Simon's there to smoke blunts while readers there to get awesome fit pictures<3 they would go a long way travelling and reader the most practical girl you know has her feet hurt from walking on platforms. they either take lots of breaks or Simon just carries her on his back (unlikely)

♡ talk about taking fit pictures, Simon's technically her photographer. She has a blog where she posts fashion and besides the mirror pics, Simon's always the one taking the pictures. He's quite good at it too.

some of these headcannons probably won't work in his time but who cares(⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ) hope this prompt isnt that hard to write for..(⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)you can always ignore if you want!! thankkkkkk you x3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxooxoxoxox

WARNINGS; MENTIONS OF SMOKING, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION

AUTHOR'S NOTE; WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU!!! probably inaccurate for both the character and the timeline... listen, I don't know what swedish people were up to in 2012 leave me alone. also not very happy with this, still trying to figure out how to write Simon :3

-he looks comically out of place in your room. just imagine a pastel pink room filled to the brim with cute plushies, shelves full of little trinkets and books, floral bedding and lace curtains. a wall full of movie posters, magazine pages, and little polaroids of your most treasured moments, and then there's a depressed smoke addict.

-you know those videos where it's a boyfriend sleeping in their girlfriend's girly room with a bunch of plushies on top of him? yeah, basically same situation.

-his sleep schedule is fucked up. either he pulls an all nighter or is passed out till 3 pm. when it's one of those times where Simon feels tired, you just let him sleep in your bed whilst you do whatever.

-it's also a great opportunity to gather the perfect pictures for black mailing.

-he just looks so stupid in your room I love him.

-doesn't care about your plushies but will learn to treat them nicely after you yelled at him for 15 minutes straight about how it's unacceptable to throw rilakkuma off the bed just so he could sit down.

-punches the plush when you aren't looking.

-he definitely gives you that pink hello kitty hoodie to wear. or he wears it instead so you two could match. that's probably your idea and he obliges because it's something you love and enjoy.

-really like the idea of him being your personal photographer. he's always the first to leave a like on whatever you post, especially if it's he who took the picture.

-doesn't know anyone besides you. his followings on social media just contain a bunch of his favorite bands and your account.

-a bit sad but I can see him borrowing your money (with permission) to buy cigarettes if his mother refuses to give him any. he wants to buy you stuff you might like but he's too busy spending it on his addiction :(

-he instead draws you your favorite characters so you can put it on the wall alongside your other pictures.

-has never been in the vicinity of a woman without being an awkward shit. moral of the story he doesn't know anything about girls. his knowledge of things is pretty vague, so please don't be surprised if you see him just poking around your vanity and asking a million different questions on what certain products do and why.

-his mother is very happy her son finally found a girlfriend. she approves of you and thinks you're an absolute sweetheart. always asks Simon when you will visit them again.

-you two definitely earn a few stares in public because how did such a sweet and pretty girl end up with a guy like Simon.

-it pisses him off endlessly but can't help his thoughts and feelings. thinks he doesn't deserve you or any of the kind shit you do for him.

-like nonnie said, he probably isn't the greatest boyfriend... there are times where he cancels your hang-outs without further explanation or simply doesn't acknowledge any of your calls and messages. he feels pretty shitty after it and apologizes for his behavior. you forgive him even though you both know he'll do it again.

-he is low-key obsessed with your smell, he smothers anything you have in the shower all over his body without caring what it's for, just simply reads the labels and puts it on... with big amounts. this man is making you go bankrupt. you could literally see the outline of his fingers left in the product..

-his camera is full of pictures of you, he likes looking at them when he feels down. which is pretty often.

-shows you all of his favorite places in Stockholm or even Kirkvile (where does this man live I don't get it) ones that aren't usually full of people, just overly adventurous teenagers from time to time. something tells you that you two have trespassed into private property multiple times but Simon doesn't want to answer that question clearly.

-ugh imagine clipping cute little hair clips into Simon's hair and he just lets you do whatever you want because if you're happy then he is happy and he wants to see you smile :(

-in exchange, you let him do corpse paint on your face.

[unspeakable-imagination]

Cigar Smoke and Sleepless Nights |Part three

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x reader

Reposts and likes are appreciated

Cw: Cigars and smoke, drinking, reader has ptsd. Logan has ptsd, canon-typical violence, references to abuse

Part one two four

You've come to understand that the mysterious Logan's nightmares are common, almost a nightly occurance. You've seen him twice more since the first real meeting outside. It's been a week, and You've spent the majority of your time in the library and gym, working out and doing the other assignments that storm, Hank, and Scott give to you. You caught up quickly, and generally finish your project faster then the real student groups, so you've had more time on your hands that you expected.

Xavier has been a crutch, almost supporting you. Asking you to do smaller tasks and paying you, telling you to biy yourself something nice, to make your room like your home. At first you wanted to turn him down on the money, but you were running out of cigarettes.

In the night, before you trained and after you've eaten, you work like a janitor. Sweeping the hallways, picking up leftover garbage in the diffrent and unique classrooms, and even going as far to have the occasional dish left in the sink.

It was about time for tour next smoke as you felt the jitterish anxiety crawl under your skin, wrapping its selfish pressure around your lungs, making you overthink and underthink all at the same time. Gradually panicking, you stumbled your way from the hall to the back door, throwing it open lightly, not even noticing, hearing, or smelling the lethar, liquor, metal, and smoke behind you.

Forcing yourself forward, till your about halfway to the treeline, fumbling in your pockets till you gripped the cold zippo and paper back of cigarettes. It's to your mouth in an instant, your hand cupped around the flame to black it from the harsh cold of the coming winter as you pulled the flame through the tabacco. Taking a deep breath of the poison, it finally feels like your feet are back under you, like your lungs have had the weight lifted from them, and your senses come back. The flood of scent washes over you and you snap you head to the grunt behind you.

Logan, leaned against the wall, just like the first time you saw him, another more fruity and authentic smelling cigar tilted from his mouth. It's embers looked like they were glowing, and when he took a drag, they lit up, a dim orange glow casting to his face. You were able to see him better. His eyes were staring directly at you, and he smelled faintly annoyed at your presumed outburst.

"Sorry," you quietly said. "Didn't mean to disturb you." Turning your head back towards the forest, you try not to pay attention to the smell of him. Focusing more on your own dose of tabacco, you feel the tingle of a nicotine buzz slowly flow from your lungs and belly to your fingertips.

"It's fine," he grunted. You felt his eyes on you, smelled the smoke from both of the sources and heard his breath. It took a moment, but the silence helps calm you. You finished your cigarette, despite the man who'd been out here longer than you.

Dropping the but on the ground, smothering jt with your boot, then picking it up, you pivoted, walking right past him and back into the mansion.

Logan was perturbed by you, his eyes watching you from the moment you ran out, reeking of panic, till you walked back in, smelling like camels. He'd only really seen you once before, but could hear your lingering presence. Storm and Jean tell him you're new, a woman who was taken in after she was ran out from her town. They Don't explain to much about you, and it didn't seem like they really knew.

You were [Name], 25, and nocturnal. It had something to do with your mutation, they said. That's why you stayed awake all night, and why everybody would pass by your door that had a 'Do not disturb' placard on the handle during the day. Whenever he'd wake up from nightmares, he'd catch a glimpse of you on his way to do whatever he needed, be jt a smoke break, or leaving to get shitfaced at a bar. Usually you were sweeping or in the kitchen, making an assortment of food.

He wanted to ask more about you, but Charles expressed that you needed tome to settle in. Of course, that was a week ago, but it was still lingering in his mind. People came to the mansion as a sanctuary and he had the habit of destroying peace. If you were just finding it, he wouldn't stop you.

He quickly used his palm to snuff out his cigar and twisted his way into the door, following behind the trail you left. You were in the kitchen, already making yourself some pancakes.

"Who are you," he said lowly, quietly. You only hummed and flipped the pancake you had on the griddle before looking at him.

"I'm [Name]," she said. When she looked at him in the light of the kitchen, she realized just how tall and intimidating he looked. He had broad, thick shoulder and dark hair with a set of mutton chops on each side. He was 6'3, a good foot taller than you. Shrinking back a little, you avoided eye contact. "I'm sorry, you're Logan, right? I hear some stuff about you in passing."

Logan bristled and swallowed. He didn't realize that she knew him too. "That's not what I meant, I mean you. Not your name."

"Last I checked, a name defines a person, but okay. I'm someone new. I came here uhh," you counted the days on your fingers. "Two weeks ago. I'm from Montana." She tilted her head. "Does that help?"

Logan grunted, partially satisfied, but unamused by her first comment. He looked at her borderline burning pancake, and she followed his eyes, cursing and flipping it onto a plate before pouring more batter.

"I'm sorry, is there something I can help you with?" She sounded a bit annoyed, but he couldn't quite tell. She was acctually anxious, still intimidated. She didn't want to take her eyes off of him. Her senses were going haywire and the fact that this was the closest he'd been made him smell suffocating. She couldn't even smell her burning pancake over the disturbing metal.

"No," Logan said gruffly, turning and leaving the kitchen. She listened to his heavy footsteps go the next story up, then into a distant room.

[kenm4vhs]

i would let him do unspeakable things to me ‘till the room stinks, ‘till the room REEKS until it’s declared a safety biohazard level 4