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improbable-outset · 2 months

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📄 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

{{Part 1}} I guess this will be Part 1.5 since there is already a Part 2

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Use of syringe and needles in the beginning, Wife!Reader, SMUT, Miguel rutting, heavy mentions of your pheromones, olphactophilia, Lab sex, overstimulation, breeding kink. You’re driving him nuts…all puns intended lol

𝐀/𝐍: I was planning for this to be in the same universe as For Biology. But it can be read by itself too. Also lmk if the Spanish phrases need fixing 🥹🥹

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You catch Miguel doing something he shouldn’t while dropping off his lunch. Now you both have to face the consequences.

The lab was bathed in a sterile glow of fluorescent lights as Miguel loaded the syringe gun with a shimmering liquid— Rapture.

The fluid inside the vial danced with an underlying glow as he positioned the syringe over his forearm with practiced precision.

The needle neared his skin and with one steady breath, he pushed it in. The liquid filled his bloodstream and a rush of power coursed through his veins.

Once the vial was bottomed out, he withdrew the syringe from his arm. The lab's stagnant atmosphere couldn’t overshadow the electric charge that was now enveloping him.

Miguel didn’t register the hiss of the lab doors open until your voice tore through the silence in the room. “Is that the second shot you’re taking?!” Your voice demanded clarity and answers from him.

Miguel didn’t turn to look at you, instead he silently put the empty syringe gun on the desk in front of him.

He could rapidly feel the effect of the Rapture in his bloodstream— the tingling sensation through his nerves and the blood rushing in his ears.

“What if I said it wasn’t,” he replied, though he knew where this would go.

“No me mientas, Miguel,” you resorted back. Miguel knew there was no point in lying to you when you saw him take the first Rupture shot this morning.

Despite not having any spider senses, he could smell your scent getting stronger as you stepped closer towards him with a heavy stride.

The Rapture was used to enhance his powers, that included his senses and strength.

But it was also a double-edged sword with its side effects. A gamble with his own equilibrium.

Your pheromones spiked his heart rate and the familiar rush of heat reached his cock. But he quickly dismissed it before it clouded his senses.

Now was not the time.

“Lyla, why didn’t you tell me she was coming?” He called out before Lyla’s marigold hologram appeared on his shoulder.

“She wanted to surprise you,” Lyla shrugged before quickly disappearing.

He craned his neck to see you hold out a paper bag in front of you. “And you forgot your lunch. But I think I came here just in time.”

You gestured at the empty syringe gun. He let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He wasn’t mad.

He could never be mad at you for visiting while he was on the clock— especially if you were delivering your homemade food. He just hated the predicament he was in right now.

It was obvious you weren’t going to drop the subject of his second Repture shot. You’ve been married to him long enough to know the side effects if things weren’t regulated properly.

Though, part of him was grateful that you understood his situation and that he could be this vulnerable with you.

You placed the paper bag on his desk before you started searching frantically through the lab.

“Lyla, where are the neutralisers? He always puts it in a different place whenever I come here and I could never find them,” you huffed in annoyance as you tried to locate the vials. The neutralisers helped to maintain his hormones and any side effects he could have from the Rapture.

The rest of the conversation with you and Lyla became a blur. As you bent over to reach the lower cabinets, Miguel’s eyes were glued on you— a captivating figure— and the dress you were wearing.

He had seen you wear that specific dress before but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the small details and how the dress fitted you.

The skirt of the dress gave you a more feminine appearance. The balloon sleeve gave a visual flair to the whole outfit.

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off of the way it accentuated your hips and your curves.

It could be the side effects of the Rapture that was making him see things that he hadn’t noticed before, but now the neutraliser was the last thing on his mind.

He craved nothing more than to hike up your dress with his hands and reach the delicate part of you between your legs.

No!

Right now really wasn’t a good time for you to be here.

No matter how much he pushed those thoughts away, he could still feel himself lose his senses dangerously fast.

Suddenly, the night you confessed that you wanted to have a baby was reeling in his mind relentlessly— all he could focus on now was to breed you. And the way the dress was lifting up to reveal more of your legs as you bent over was only adding to his torment.

“Found them!” You exclaimed. After searching most of the lab cabinets, you found the vials with the neutralisers.

As Miguel stepped closer to approach you, he saw you held one of the vials out in your hand.

He seized your wrist and forced you up from the floor so you looked up at him.

“Necesitas irte,” The statement was punctured with authority, devoid of any room for negotiation.

Even if you were fully aware about the effects of his Rapture, he still couldn’t have you here. Not when he was in such a compromising position right now.

You frowned while still holding the vial in your grasp.

“I’m not leaving until I see you take the neutraliser,” Of course you were unfazed by his hard expression. You could easily break his assertive mask, but right now was a terrible time for your stubbornness.

“Amor…” It took every fiber of him to make himself sound as convincing as possible. Yet, he could still feel himself crack.

He could feel your pulse throbbing under his fingertips, even after he loosened his grip around your wrist. A vital sign of his wife’s consciousness and presence.

He imagined what it would be like having another heartbeat growing inside you, being nurtured and carried by you. He groaned at the mere thought.

“You…you threw away your birth control pills, right?” He already knew the answer but he had to be sure. He needed to hear it from you. Your scent was getting stronger by the second and his breathing quickened.

Your face scrunched in confusion by his question, completely oblivious to where the conversation was going. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

Your simple answer made his dick twitch desperately under the digital suit. If he kept his sex drive at bay any longer, he will combust. He needed to be inside you.

He decided he wasn’t going to hold back his desires anymore. He was going to have his way with his wife.

“Let me breed you…please,” His voice was low in an attempt to conceal his faltering demeanor, but he knew you could easily see his weakness right through him.

“Mig…what…” the words lodged in your throat before he saw the change in your expression.

You quickly picked up on what was going on and realised that he was rutting. But you probably didn’t anticipate it to happen so quickly, otherwise you wouldn’t still be here.

He rolled his hips once against your lower body so you could feel his hard on, earning a gasp from you. He was deliberately rubbing against your clit through the skirt of the dress.

You still haven’t granted him permission, but he could see the way his request was churning in your mind. He pressed his forehead on yours and you looked up at him. He couldn’t read your expression but he could smell your pheromones and how much this was turning you on right now.

“Por favor,” he whispered before he kissed your cheek. He didn’t expect himself to sound so needy.

“Yeah…alright,” you answered. He sighed in relief, a fraction of his tension gone just from your permission alone.

He scooped you up before quickly placing you on one of the benches. His hands lifted the hem of your dress up, revealing more of your bare legs.

He noticed from his peripheral vision the glass vial slipped from your grasp and rolled off the bench before it shattered on the floor. But he paid no mind to it.

His hands halted once he reached your rear before pulling down your panties. He moaned when he saw the fabric candy wet from your arousal, emitting more of your scent.

Your pheromones were overpowering him now and it was driving him insane. You were soaked.

He wondered how long your clit had been throbbing for, how long you’ve been aroused by this. Perhaps you purposely wore a dress with only your panties underneath.

Once the panties were off, he got you to lean back further until your back was pressed against the bench. He lifted your dress higher to reveal your pussy. You were all slick and ready for him.

With a few taps on his watch, his digital suit vanished, leaving him with only his lab coat. His dick was throbbing pathetically with precum leaking from the tip.

He closed the gap between the two of you until his tip pressed against your opening and his precum mixed with your wetness.

He pushed himself in, feeling the resistance from your tight walls, until he was balls deep. Your mouth hung open as you were taking in everything from him.

The warmth from your pussy that was now engulfing his cock felt like a lifeline. He quickly kissed your temple because he knew we weren't going to hold back now.

Before you could lean into his touch, he started ramming himself into your poor cunt. Your eyes shot up in shock before you grabbed onto his biceps for support.

His pace was relentless and driven by the thought of filling you with his cum until they would finally stick. Your moans and the wet sounds filled his ears as he kept plunging himself into you.

You walls were squeezing his dick in all the right places and he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

Each slap of his hips rocked your body on the bench further, threatening to slip away. But he held a tight grip on your waist so you would stay in place.

“I’ll get you knocked up, so everyone will know…You’re. With. Me.” He ended the last few syllables with a snap of his hips against your rear, adding emphasis and weight to his words.

You let out a breathy laugh between each thrust, amused by his statement.

“Miguel, I think the wedding bands give it away— ohmygod-” your sentence was cut off by a sudden hard thrust from his dick.

“That’s not enough and you know it, I need you full with my babies.” His words came out as a growl and his pace didn’t falter a fraction.

A few locks of his hair drooped from his head as he kept moving, sticking to the film of sweat that formed on his forehead.

He felt the contractions of your walls and he knew your orgasm was just a few thrusts away. You fists gripped the sleeves on his lab coat as you moaned loudly. He watched as your eyes squeezed shut and your climax came crashing down with each stroke from his dick.

He stopped momentarily to move your legs that was wrapped around his waist and rested them on his shoulders. He had better leverage and could reach deeper inside you.

The change in position had you crying out helplessly as he pressed himself into you more. You just reached your peak and you were still riding out your high but he didn’t give you a chance to recollect yourself.

“Miguel-!”

You were overstimulated in bliss as his dick was hitting the bundle of nerves that he knew would drive you over the edge. You could only utter fragments of his name along with your low moans.

Miguel watched with pride as his wife was falling apart under him.

“That’s it, clench onto me. Just like that.”

He could’ve sworn this was the best thing he had experienced with you and he fucked you many times before.

Perhaps the Rapture made him twice as sensitive to all the pleasure he was receiving and more aware of how you were snug around him.

His pace was becoming sloppy and staggered and he could just about feel the edge of his orgasm. Just a little longer of him being soaked in your cunt that always fit to his size perfectly.

His hips flinched into yours one last time before his cum was pouring into the depths of your womb in hopes that you will get pregnant.

Bred by him until it stained you.

Your legs were limp and slipped off of his shoulders. He groaned at the sheer force of his own climax.

He thrusted himself a few more times while more cum was spilling from him. He eventually came to a halt with his dick still half way inside you.

Your breathing was still erratic but you still managed to lift your head up to see where your bodies were meshed together.

He caught a flicker of surprise in your face as you noticed the mess before you under your dress. You gazed back up at him again.

“So…are you satisfied? Do you want me to give the neutralisers now?” you managed to huffed out, still breathless.

Miguel responded by pushing the remaining half of his dick back into your swollen cunt with a wet slap. You let out a broken moan in shock.

“Not yet…”

His lips curled up slightly as he started to plunge himself into you again…

The neutraliser forgotten.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @lazyjellyfish300 @club-danger-zone @farrowroyale @idk1341 @tinauh14 @mybvalentine @migueloharastruelove @ghost-lantern @ginanet @miguels-aranita @francesca-the-1st @monarchberrysblog @ruby-rubes26 @loosecan @oharasfilipinawife @miguelzslvtz @pxtched @hwasoup @the-pan-liquid @homewreckingwreck

I don’t think this one ate :( …I suck at writing dialogues. But I’m so fly when it comes to writing inner conflicts, like with Miguel’s chain of thoughts in this story, and body language. That’s why there isn’t a lot of dialogues here. Maybe because I’m an overthinker and it’s easy to write a lot when it comes to what the character is thinking lol

Idk what it is I’m starting to fucking hate using tumblr now, it just feels a little miserable being here. That’s why AO3 >>> literally anything else

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lightwise · 2 months

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Omega is not okay

I know we've all been over the moon about Crosshair and Hunter's dynamic in The Return, but I want to draw some attention to Omega in this episode, and something that I think Joel Aron is trying to draw attention to with his lighting choices.

Omega is not okay.

Joel has made pointed out many times that he loves doing reveal lighting (think the overhead light in Crosshair's cell or on the freighter at the end of A Different Approach giving him a halo, or how Hunter stops short of the overhead light on the Marauder before stepping out to greet Omega). And throughout this whole episode, the light is breaking over Crosshair and bathing him in warmth more and more. He is slowly returning the light and coming home to his family.

Omega, however, in nearly every single scene in this episode, is in shadow.

Yes, her hairstyle is contributing to the fall of light on her face, and yes, she has her hat on while they're on Barton IV. But this is showing that her psychological state since they escaped Tantiss is uneasy, at best, and very conflicted and darkened, at worst. Even when she wakes up in the comfort and safety of the Marauder, she is shrouded in shadow. And even in scenes where the light wraps around and highlights Crosshair's face, Omega's is kept harshly defined, and she is often looking away from the "camera".

Even when we see her somewhat happier at points in this episode, usually due to watching her brothers reconnect, her face is not as well lit as theirs.

Omega kept her positivity and optimism at the forefront while she and Crosshair were in prison, and throughout most of their escape. It's what we most associate with her--being a ray of sunshine and encouragement for those around her. Now, however, she has the opportunity to relax a bit, for the adults to be handling certain things, and the trauma and perspective shift that she has just gone through is coming to the forefront.

Her survivors guilt, her shock at not being the only female clone, her confusion and questions over who she is and why she is so important, the cruelty she's seen Hemlock be capable of, and her continued empathy for anyone who is suffering is all swirling around in her in ways that she doesn't know what to do with yet. Yes, she has seen much suffering in the galaxy already in her short life, and has always been adamant about her need to help others. But ultimately it had never impacted her like this. Until now.

Crosshair has been broken and remade by his experiences. Omega is being broken and remade by hers as well. And I'm not sure the boys fully realize just how much yet.

Omega refuses to be left behind. She feels responsible for the fact that the rest of the clones are still on Tantiss. She feels guilty that she could have a chance at a life still and they don't. She feels an all-encompassing need to help them if she can, even though she is still young and vulnerable. This is ultimately going to conflict with Hunter's desires to keep her safe and hidden. Echo has already chosen the fight. Wrecker is willing to go wherever he's needed. Crosshair has been through too much to not be willing to fight back however necessary.

Hunter is going to eventually realize that while Omega is still a child, and does need to be protected, at the same time, her own sense of responsibility is going to eventually supersede his desires.

Echo and Crosshair especially will be able to understand some of what she is feeling and hopefully help guide her through it. Hopefully, Omega will be able to reconcile who she is, what she is capable of, and what is outside of her ability to fix, sooner rather than later. But it's safe to say she will never be the same after this. At least she has a little bit of reprieve before facing whatever is next.

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #omega #omega bad batch #tbb omega #the return #tbb season 3 #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #some light edits #somelightedits #somelightramblings #some light ramblings

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molinaskies · 8 months

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What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic

I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.

I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.

However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.

In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.

I see it two ways:

1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.

In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.

There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.

So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?

What happens when something tampers with that bottle?

Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.

How Dark Sonic Works

What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.

Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.

That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.

Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.

When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.

This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.

Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.

But—

If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.

Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.

~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~

Tikal's Prayer

I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.

The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use

Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use

Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing

In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.

also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.

Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.

It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.

I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…

Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog

I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!

When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.

The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.

Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.

Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.

That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.

Mind over Matter

Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.

Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.

This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.

He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.

The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).

Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.

However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.

Why I Care About This

It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…

…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.

Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.

Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.

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quinzzelx · 14 days

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Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆●~☆~●~☆~☆~●~☆

As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“ Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆●~☆~●~☆~☆~●~☆

I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #reader insert #imagine #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron

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transmascissues · 3 months

Text

next time someone tries to tell me people don’t demonize and act violently toward trans men and transmascs, i’m just going to make them read this reply i got to a positivity post that was specifically about trans manhood and transmasculinity. this is basically just every negative thing people say no one says about us rolled into one message that’s aimed directly at us.

and as if this isn’t enough on its own, their whole blog is full of this disgusting shit. it seems to be dedicated to it, actually. (fair warning, don’t look at the next two screenshots if you don’t want to see even more genuinely awful transphobia.)

you can say what you want about how they’re probably just a troll or baiting or doing this for attention but the fact remains that, regardless of their true intentions, these are real things that a real person is saying about trans men&mascs, publicly and proudly and to our faces because they want it to do damage.

i’ve dealt with people like this before, on a much closer level. when i was a teenager, i had a grown woman come into my dms just to send me very graphic and detailed instructions on how to kill myself. literally entire paragraphs with all of the steps she wanted me to take. before i blocked her, i told her she was lucky she sent it to me and not someone more vulnerable, because otherwise she might have real blood on her hands. she just sent the whole thing again.

we can argue all day about infantilization versus demonization, erasure versus hypervisibility, what counts as violence, what words we use to talk about our oppression, and so on. but the reality is, whether you believe people want us dead or not, they clearly do, and a lot of them really aren’t making any effort to hide it. at this point, if you can’t see it, it’s because you don’t care about our lives enough to look at the reality that’s right in front of your face.

before you do anything else, block this person. don’t engage with them directly, don’t give them the satisfaction of the attention they might be fishing for, just block them. but don’t forget that they exist either, especially if you’re not a trans man or transmasc yourself. don’t just block them and move on and forget that there are real people out there who will say these things about us, who genuinely enjoy the thought that their actions might have deadly consequences.

because these are the people you empower to come out of hiding and start being blatant about their hatred when you insist that no one wants us dead, when you openly mock us and demonize us and try to cast us out from the community that we were supposed to share. when even our own people decide we’re an acceptable target, these bigots throw a fucking party because you’ve just told them they can get away with murder as long as it’s our blood on their hands. this particular blog was started recently, and i guarantee it’s not a coincidence that they started it in the midst of a rise in online anti-transmasculinity.

it really is telling, how much hate a positivity post has incited. y’all can’t stand when we talk about the bad things that happen to us, but you hate our happiness even more.

#i feel like i haven’t made a properly angry post in a while. so here’s this #tw suicide #tw suicide baiting #tw transphobic violence #examples of transandrophobia #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilphobia #virilmisia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia #normally i add more general tags but i don’t feel right putting these screenshots in those tags

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lace-coffin · 4 months

Note

Hello! Merry Christmas! I just read the post of Asa reacting to his victim being attracted to slashers and omg I loved it! You did amazing on it ^^

If your still taking requests I would love a post where the slashers reacting to their victim watching their movie and being attracted/lustful towards their character ^^ if it's okay with you :] thanks!

How would the Slashers react to their S/O being attracted to their movie? (Nsfw)

Slashers x gn!Reader

Requests are open!

Thank you for the request! I’m super glad you liked my other fic 😭💕

Bubba Sawyer

You made a movie night of it, bubba hauling the outdated tv into your shared room for some privacy away from the family. She was nervous for you to see this, they already knew you were aware of the film but..to watch it together in person was so much more intimate. What if you thought he was a monster? What if you decided you didn’t mean all the “I love you’s” you’d whispered into the crook of their neck on comfy quiet nights?

After giving him some reassuring kisses over his mask and taking his bigger hand into yours, you begin the movie, bubba’s eyes fluttering nervously between yours and the screen the entire time.

She braces when the gorier parts happen, uncomfortable but excited in her own way to be this vulnerable with you. He cracks an eye open and forces himself to gauge your reaction, no matter how horrified it may be. You look..flustered? Face hot and tinted a deep shade of pink, hands noticeably clammy against bubba’s, legs drawn to yourself just subtly pressing together. Were you into this?

Just as the screaming girl is manhandled back into the sawyer house on screen you swear under your breath, almost jealous of the way your partner roughly grabs at her. “Fuck..so strong, you need to pick me up like that sometime” you drawl, poorly concealing your want as a half joke.

No time like the present you guess as bubba suddenly stands, height difference somehow even more evident when you’re wanting like this. A moment passes where you look each-other over, both red faced and panting. This is cut short as he grabs you around the waist, leaving no room to escape. You squeal in surprise but it quickly devolves into excited giggles, doing absolutely nothing to help the ache between your legs.

Bubba beams up at you as if they could do no wrong as they throw you into the bed, wrestling you into the position they want like a helpless doll.

An hour and multiple orgasms layer she’s still plowing into you with no sign of stopping, warm wet seed leaking from your abused hole. You never finished the movie.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas has seen his movies a few times before, he doesn’t really feel one way or the other about them, just viewing it as a documentation of his life. Sometimes Hoyt will throw it on the tv on warm lazy evenings, beer in hand, ready to find himself hilarious for the 100th time. Thomas doesn’t quite understand why you and Hoyt like it so much but he doesn’t complain.

It’s happened the last few times you’ve seen it, even if it’s just playing as background noise. Seemingly unable to tear your eyes from the screen for over half the movie, especially during the bloodier parts involving your boyfriend, you suddenly leave the room in a hurry. Thomas had thought nothing of it the first few times, just guessing you couldn’t hold your beer or something but sure enough it happens again this evening and he can’t bear the curiosity any longer. Thomas waits a few minutes as to not raise suspicion before following you the way you came.

What he finds does not disappoint. Backed against the bathroom wall your hand is clasped over your mouth tight, fingers working desperately under your half tugged down jeans to relieve yourself. This entire time you’d been turned on by it? By him slaughtering people? The thought of you wanting him so carnally stirs deep in his abdomen.

“I’m sorry Tommy it’s just, the way you take what you want and, and hold them down when they’re pleading..fuck, it does something to me”

The look of shock plastered against Tommy’s raised brows quickly transforms into a look of smugness. Your jeans are tugged down around your ankles uncaringly before you can continue to explain. Just enough room to Thomas to take what he wants, what you need. His hot mouth works over you roughly, not caring about technique as much as just having you in his mouth, claiming you, feeling all he can. You tug his hair into a death grip the closer you get to the edge, making Tommy groan in response and double his efforts. The orgasm hits you like a train, it’s sudden and rough and filthy, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Tommy removes himself from you finally, lips swollen and spit slick, dopey fucked out look on his face.

Asa Emory

It’s almost like a sick treat, this predicament you’ve found yourself in more than once, and probably will again in the future. Having a cushy spot in the collection as Asa’s favourite pet definitely has its perks, but in return you must admit you tend to get a little sloppy, bratty even. Getting too confident in your place and pushing your masters will. Obviously Asa doesn’t stand for this. This is how you find yourself placed in his lap on the black leather sofa, wrists cuffed together in front of you and legs spread either side of his.

In times like these Asa likes to show you what happens if you don’t behave, if you aren’t his beloved pet, If you’re a dazed fly caught in his web with no sign of escape.

The movie starts of slowly, you’re still a bit red faced from being cuffed down but relatively calm in your place on his thighs, finding it kind of cute seeing Asa in his exterminator gear on the sleek tv. Asa only runs a stray hand over your thigh for now, running close to where your thigh meets hip and dipping back down. Not enough to do anything but enough to get the cogs turning in your head and enough to get your legs squirming.

Your owners hands delve down to the centre of your thighs as the movie picks up, Asa roughing up victims on screen with such measured precision it’s almost erotic on its own. The gloved hand running over your clothed need doesn’t help either.

Eventually the torture scenes begin, Asa finally tugging off your underwear and widening his thighs, by proxy widening yours bracketed around them. Lubed up fingers work their way into your aching hole, other hand under your chin, forcing you to look at the screen. “Look at that cricket, these people were ill mannered and got what was coming to them, we’d hate for that to happen to you, hm?” The parallel between the writhing groaning victims on screen and you also writhing and moaning in a lewd way makes you feel disgusting in the best way possible. The only difference is you’re a willing victim.

You choke out a particularly loud moan as his long fingers hit a sensitive spot, wrenching your eyes shut in process. “I said look you stupid mutt.” Asa snaps, tugging your head back towards the screen. “I know you love it when I play in your guts but let’s hope you regain your manners so I don’t have to do it that way, yes?” He says coolly as a man is being disembowelled, slightly amused at the gore in-front of him.

The gore used to make you feel strange, not able to completely connect to it as it always seemed unreal through the tv, but it made you feel like you were prying, seeing people’s most hopeless and intimate last moments. It felt almost perverse to see this desperate side to someone at the hands of an uncaring god. After multiple occasions of viewing it and heavy petting from Sir during you’ve started to associate the sick acts on screen with pleasure at the hands of your master. Simultaneously causing pain to others and vile pleasure to you at the same time.

Asa edges you a few times during the more violent moments, waiting for the grand finale to let you finish, he revels in the way you moan for him, squirming and trying to get more whilst only being permitted what he gives you. It’s ironic how greedy you are for his touch while being shown on screen what happens when you try push him further then you should but he can’t help finding it endearing on you.

By the time the credits have rolled you’ve finally been allowed to cum once, and again, and again. Until your legs are shaking, trying to force themselves closed around your masters spread ones for some reprieve from the onslaught of overstimulation. “Didn’t that feel good? You see where being a well trained dog gets you?” Asa chuckles darkly into your ear before landing one last slap onto your abused hole. “Let’s keep it that way cricket.”

Billy lenz

You share the old mattress on the attic floor together, head laid on Billy’s lap. The picture on the tv in front of you isn’t amazing but it’ll do. You’ve seen black Christmas a few times so it’s not like it matters if you miss a few details, just happy to see your partner on screen and be sharing quality time together.

Usually with Billy’s attention span he ends up skipping over the bits that don’t include him much, complaining about the “pig bitches” on screen being boring. You’re not sure if he does this because he’s genuinely bored or if he just wants to skip to the parts that make you flustered. Occasionally you make it through the whole thing but it’s a rare occurrence.

As soon as your lover on screen starts spewing filth over the old rotary phone it’s over. Usually Billy would all but jump your bones, not now though. He loves to see the way you try act coy, like the disgusting words being thrown down the phone don’t bother you at all, in reality a familiar feeling is stirring between your thighs and Billy knows it.

One hushed low moan and a needy look is all it takes for Billy to pounce on you. You giggle and palm him over his trousers, trying to get him as riled up as you can before actually initiating anything. It works because in moments he’s grabbing your hair with force and pushing your face into his clothed cock. “Hurry up piggy, to.. to slow..teasing slut, need you on my cock”

Now settled with your head back in his lap and cock down your throat, you continue the movie, warming his needy cock as you watch the brutality on screen. It never fails to amuse you how Billy’s cock twitches in the murder scenes.

Jason Vorehees

Jason isn’t shy about his movies, he’s done those things on screen before and an uncountable amount of times offscreen too. To be honest there’s so many of the movies he doesn’t always remeber the plot of each despite literally being in them. He does however remember that the movie usually ends with his cock buried in you.

Jason doesn’t really understand why you find his acts of violence so impressive but, he’s not complaining. He can admit he looks pretty broad and strong in some scenes.

Since the movie marathons usually end the way they do it means Jason is already wound up before the tape has been pushed into the player. Dark mottled skin beneath his mask flushing even deeper. You both ignore the tent in his torn trousers for now, not wanting to ruin the illusion that you both don’t already know what’s going to go down.

After a grotesque on screen death Jason is guiding your hand to his wet clothed cock, head tilted down in embarrassment, his good eye wrenched shut in shame. This shame seems to melt away later on in the evening as you have two fingers slipped into your boyfriend’s desperate hole, fucking into his prostate with fervour. Jason almost seems like another person as he’s riding your hand greedily.

The credits roll but the movie had been long abandoned anyway, you have more pressing things to concentrate on. Like the way your lovers cock jumps and pulses, cum staining his shirt and dribbling down to mix with the lube between his legs.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms isn’t a massive fan of watching his movie, the scenes in it bringing back the painful memories way too vividly for him to handle. He will however watch it if you beg him enough, promising to skip the uncomfortable scenes and only watch the ones he doesn’t mind, and also the fact you bribe him with a mid-movie handjob also helps.

It’s really a battle of self control for Brahms, already pawing at you before the movie title even pops up, he’s here for one thing. Well two things, he loves spending time with his lovely partner, but right now it seems his brain is being controlled by his cock. You can tell him no and bat him away a few times, the dominance in your voice will only go straight to his dick anyway, kind of defeating the object but he’s not objecting by any means.

The push and pull of desperation and dominance eventually gets to much for Brahms, resigning to begging. “Please mommy/daddy/master I’ve been so good, did what you said, please, need it”

Tell Brahms how good he’s been for you whilst teasing his leaky tip, circling your thumb over his slit and hearing the pathetic whines he lets out. If you’re feeling really mean you can edge him during the duration of the movie, telling him to look at how bad he’s been on screen, like a dog who needs a muzzle. Your poor partners brain is essentially mush by the end of it, hazy and exhausted from reaching the edge so many times but being denied, a soft slap to the cock if he complains.

Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t understand the need to watch his movies, he was there and committed the atrocities on the tv, why does he need to see it again? He’s not against it though, by that I mean he won’t leave the room if you start playing it and he happens to be on one of the sofas. But he doesn’t really interact.

His attention never stays on the tv long, mostly trained on you and your reactions. It would probably be unnerving to most to have this prolific killer staring them down unblinkingly from across the room, but that’s just Michael. If anything it worries you more when you can’t feel his gaze burning into your back, almost strangely comforted by knowing he’s near.

You make a show of paying extra attention to his kills, pointedly commenting about how powerful and sexy he looks covered in blood like that. Michael knows you do it on purpose but he can’t deny it defiantly works to excite him, he’s not been used to a lot of praise in his life so he supposes it makes sense in some way that it would have that effect on him.

Despite what you may think Michael does have a decent amount of self control when it comes to you, he definitely does if it means he gets to watch you torture yourself by not touching, just rearranging your legs over and over in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Michael sees all the desperate looks he pretends not to notice.

Eventually he tires of playing his part as the none the wiser partner and stands from the sofa, briskly crossing the living room and slinging you over his shoulder. If you want to get fucked by Michael Myers then why wait? He makes a point of turning the tv off and grabbing his knife on the way upstairs.

The movie was dull to Michael but the way he’s bullying his cock into you definitely isn’t. The way you gasp and hiccup against him as he holds his signature knife to your throat is burned in his memory. Michael wouldn’t actually hurt you with it but if you happen to catch yourself a little he’s more than happy to lap it up from your neck as he fucks into you.

Yautja (female and male)

Female

Her movies are always a hit when she’s nesting, you spend hours cuddled up in the warm furs along side each-other anyway so you might as well revisit some old favourites whilst you do. Your mate is insatiable during mating season, never straying far from the nest nor your flushed body.

She adores the way your body reacts to the tv version of her, easily sensing the way your heart rate picks up when she thunderously bellows in pride after a kill. It’s also obvious in the way you can’t keep your hands off her during these scenes, you can’t believe the beast that’s all muscle, dominance and sex appeal on the tv is your girlfriend. The same girlfriend who lets you gently trace her mandibles and pet her dreads.

During this season she needs no excuse to fuck you into the furs anyway so it never lasts long before she’s pinning you to the nest floor. Her hips rutt into you with a primal want, the need to mark and breed, she knows she can’t actually put a pup in you but god is she going to try. It can go on like this until the movie is long over, more concerned in sliding against eachother as hard as you can until you’re both completely fucked out. She’s not satisfied until you’ve cum multiple times and are littered in bruises and bites from her sharpe mandibles.

Once she’s happy with the wreck she’s turned you into she’ll pull you close against her warm scaly skin, purring and clicking into your sweaty tired skin.

Male

Mating season hits and it’s it’s anyone guess what will set your mate off, something as simple as looking cute whilst cooking or admiring the skulls he presented to you can be enough to have your bent over and panting.

Today it’s watching his movie that does it for him, you only commented in passing how handsome and capable he looked taking down multiple trained specialists like it was nothing. You saw the effect it had on him and giggled mischievously, knowing how he gets this time of year. Your laugh must have translated to a challenge to him because it only takes a matter of seconds for him to slam you into the floor, snarling in your face, mandibles flared.

Your mate shows you who’s in charge by grabbing your hair in a death grip, forcing you to watch him kill on screen as he slams into you, bottoming out each time. You swear you can feel him in your stomach, trying his hardest to fuck all you can take into your stretched, lewdly squelching hole.

He demands you watch and tell him how much of a good mate he is as he finally pops his knot into you, stuffing you full and binding you together until you take all his cum, until his body decides he’s breed you thoroughly enough to make his seed take.

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artethyst · 2 months

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~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! Reader/OC

“Lucien,” Eris growled, stalking over to his sobbing and heavily pregnant mate, his brother could only stand there awkwardly, in a fruitless attempt to soothe her.

“I swear I had no part in this!” The Emissary raised his hands in mock surrender as his sister in law continued to cry, unrelenting tears spilling down her pale cheeks.

Eris sighed, and whilst he wished she would stay inside like the Healers had recommended, he couldn’t deny her anything.

His only request was that his brother chaperone her should she feel restless, especially if he happened to be caught up in meetings he was unable to be in absence of.

Eris gently removed his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, overly paranoid that she would catch a chill in her weakened state and ignored the way Lucien rolled his eyes at his brother’s worrying.

Lucien knew, beneath everything, the feared High Lord of Autumn was nothing but a softie. A mama’s boy who would do anything for his wife should she merely ask of it.

He was certain Eris would have surrendered even his own crown- the one he had spent centuries suffering for, if it meant she was happy.

“I can’t understand what she’s saying,” Lucien was almost just as panicked, knowing whatever was wrong he’d surely be blamed for it.

“Well, we both know how successful you are with the ladies,” Eris drawled and Lucien snarled at the reference to his own mate. “My work is done for the day, you may leave.”

Lucien bowed and sent one lasting gaze at the two of them, admittedly unnerved by her frantic state.

Until recently he had never seen her cry in the many years of knowing her, and whilst he would never admit it out loud, she had always been his favourite member of the Inner Circle.

“My love,” Eris soothed her by playing with her hair, she had found solace against his hard chest as she let out small gasps, taking comfort in his scent as he provided comforting waves of love down the bond. “Tell me, what is making you so upset, hmm?”

His words held no taunt as she sniffled, and he would never tell her that he found it rather endearing how she looked- so vulnerable with her cheeks aflame and violet eyes glossy.

“T-That hawk!” She whimpered, a shaky hand moving to point at the tree before them, and only he could’ve understood her choked out words as they were sobbed into him. “I-It pushed a p-poor baby b-bird out of i-its nest a-and-“ the next part was too horrific for her to say and she cried harder as Eris sighed, stroking the back of her neck.

Oh, for anyone to see her now.

The Crown Princess of the Night Court, feared magic wielder who helped slaughter many in the war and High Lady of Autumn, brought to tears- over a baby bird.

He supposed it had something to do with the little flame growing in her stomach.

“E-Eri I want you to kill it,” the soft tone of her voice betrayed its sentiment as he paused his ministrations for a moment, his eyebrow raised in amusement. “Make it p-pay for s-slaughtering that d-defenceless creature!”

He withheld a chuckle at the irony of her demand, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head before adjusting their position so her back was flush against his front.

His chin grazed her scalp as he effortlessly flicked his hand, the unassuming hawk turning to ash in an instant as she watched in satisfaction.

No matter how silly, trivial or frivolous her demand, he would always comply.

“Better now my love?” He crooned as she became giddy, throwing her arms around his neck as he breathed in her scent- a sickly sweet smell of a youngling mixed with his own.

It brought a new possessiveness- pride within him to know she now carried his smell with her, a subtle hint of spice and ember imbedded in her natural twinge of jasmine.

He felt her heart soar as she tugged against his own through the bond, her soft cheek nuzzling against his rough hand which came to gently rub at her damp skin.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbled, as he unwittingly melted at her words, thinking he might never get used to the love she had shown him- insisted that he deserved.

“You saw me this morning Bunny,” he teased as she pouted.

“That was hours ago!” She insisted guiding his calloused palm to her slightly protruding stomach. “I need you…We need you.”

He couldn’t help a genuine smile overtaking his wry smirk, feeling the life they created flicker beneath their joined hands.

“It seems our little ember agrees,” he mused and despite his biting fear of her upcoming labour, as everyone knew- Fae births were not only extremely rare, but horrifically dangerous, despite it all he was happy.

Despite what having a child would mean, a new threat to him he had no doubt people would take advantage of, he couldn’t help but feel at peace too.

At peace with himself. At peace with his mate and their unborn baby which would soon complete their little makeshift family.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris vanserra x oc #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x oc #eris vandaddy #acotar fic #fanfic

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soapsbaby · 11 months

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Bunch of Deviants

Summary: Assigning one kínk to each of the main CoD characters that I headcanon them to have.

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Alex Keller, all x gn!reader Rating: NSFW (minors DNI) Word count: 1100ish

Ghost - Size Kink

He loves using his size to his advantage and making you feel as small, and in a way vulnerable, as he possibly can. He adores the fact that he can just pick you up and fuck you against whichever surface he wants with ease.

Will place his cock on your stomach and give you a cruel smile. That's all going to be inside of you, sweetheart, think you can take it, hm?

He loves sometimes seeing you struggle a bit with his size, the way your eyes start watering when you try to fit him all into his mouth or the delicate little whimpers when he first starts pushing into you.

Soap - Exhibitionism

Soap loves to just do it whenever and wherever the possibility arises, be it indoor or outdoor. Literally you can’t think of many places you haven’t done it, be it his office, every room in your apartment, the local woods, his car, in an alley behind a club you were partying at. He's always down to just pull your underwear to the side for a quick fuck.

He really gets off on the possibility of someone seeing you or walking in on you (even though he’d probably get slightly embarrassed if it actually happened and thank god it hasn’t yet).

No… No, Baby, I don’t care if anyone sees. Let them see. Let them see how well I fuck you.

Loves sneaking off with you at events and just taking you in whichever free room you can find. He loves the thrill of acting like nothing happened afterwards, seeing you slightly struggle to walk straight.

Price - Sugar Daddy

He loves treating you and making sure you are always taken care of. You are on his credit card with no limits.

He gets off on knowing that you are treating yourself and can get anything that makes you happy and he loves when he is at work and gets a text of you wearing whichever new clothes you bought with his money.

He would never deny you anything (within reason) but he loves when you whine and beg for it a little bit.

His favorite part, of course, is when he gets to take your fancy new clothes off of you or, if possible, just fuck you in them.

Gaz - Body Worship

It’s not even that it’s necessarily a kink of his, he just can’t help himself from praising and worshiping you the moment he gets to see and feel your body, let alone when he’s inside of you.

He is so genuine when he starts praising you, paying attention to every part of your body and just babbling on about how much he loves all of it, how smooth and soft you feel.

Loves when he can take his time before sex and just massage you, kiss your entire body and take however long he needs, baffled that you are his and his alone and how lucky he is.

Alex - Bondage

He loves when he just gets to let go and have you take charge, tying him up in whichever position you’d like him in and then take him like he belongs to you.

He loves the sensory experience of it, the rope on his skin and immobility that comes along with being tied up, however he also loves how the decision-making is taken off him and he can turn off his brain for a while and let you take charge.

Is a little embarrassed by this but he loves when he’s tied up and can’t fight you overstimulating him, just having to take it.

Farah - Sensory Play

She is not much into anything rough but she enjoys playing around with different sensations, especially when she gets blindfolded and all of her senses are heightened.

She loves experimenting with temperatures, one of her favorites is wax play, even though for her that can already be on the border of what is too painful. Still, she loves the sensation if you drip it from high up enough and the way it looks on her skin.

König - Praise and Humiliation

He thrives on you talking through it, telling him how well he is doing, how good he is making you feel, that he is your little toy that you can do with whatever you please.

You have tied him up before but it is never necessary. He will just take whatever you throw at him, so eager to make you feel pleased with obedience that there is no need to restrain him. If you tell him to keep his hands behind his back then that is what he will do without question.

Doesn’t use that many profanities in his day to day life so it is very easy to humiliate him by making him repeat your words. “Say it, König. Who is my little fucktoy, hm?” “M… Me.” “No, sweetheart, the whole sentence.” “I… I am your little fucktoy.” “That’s right.”

Alejandro - Breeding

His breeding kink is his biggest weakness. Whenever you tell him to put a baby in you his thrusts will start to stutter, sweet moans spilling from his lips, mi amor, you know we’re not ready, we can’t… we shouldn’t- and then, against all better judgment, he will come inside of you regardless, staying inside of you for as long as he can afterwards to make sure none of his cum is wasted.

Rudy - Edging

He likes using the time he has off work to the most and making sure he takes as much time with you as he can. He simply enjoys pushing you to the edge as many times as you can take and then eventually push you over it, making sure he keeps going and overstimulating you until you forget your own name.

He knows your body by heart, knows how to read you like an open book and can tell exactly how close you are and when he needs to stop.

He will be so frustrating that it makes you go insane. He takes such pleasure in your desperation and at the same time is so patient. It doesn’t matter whether you are begging him to fuck you, he won’t until he has decides it’s time.

Valeria - Sadomasochism

Valeria is just into pain, going both ways. She just enjoys all of the scratching, biting and slapping that comes along with having sex with you and it doesn’t matter whether she’s topping or bottoming either.

Usually by the end of it you are both covered in bruises and scratches, she doesn’t care. She likes you marked up so everyone can tell that you are hers.

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manias-wordcount · 7 months

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Her Good Girl (Vi)

Kinktober 2023 Day Eleven: Dildo

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart. Come on, in…”

You take a deep breath in, letting precious air fill your lungs and give you life.

“...and out.”

You let it all go. Letting the breath of life slip past your parted lips for a short trip away from you and your body. It’s necessary. To keep on living. To keep on going. So you don’t miss it. You don’t miss the air that is used to fill your lungs. Besides…

You have that smile of hers to look forward to.

“Good girl,” Vi hums at you from between your legs. Her eyes are half-lidded, and her gaze sits heavy, heavy, heavy on your lower stomach. As if it’s the real trouble you have to worry about right now. And not the fact that there’s a hand settling over your waist, trying to keep you still. Or the fact that your legs are thrown over her shoulders, putting you in an especially vulnerable position. Or even the fact that you measly little tank top you were wearing is pushed up high enough that your boobs can do nothing but sit out on your chest- exposed and on display. All for her to see. All for her to enjoy. “Do you want more?”

“Yes.” You respond quickly. With a shaky voice and a swiftness that’s a little too embarrassing for even you in this moment. In fact, you can even feel all the blood rushing to your face as you only grow more and more flustered. Though that might have something to do with the way Vi’s gaze is constantly flickering downwards towards the main event happening between your thighs. “Yes, I- I want more. Please.”

Your own voice sounds pathetic in your ears. But in front of you, Vi shutters at the sound and sight of your pretty pink tongue darting out to lick at your lips at the same time. She’s always been so soft with you. She’s always been so weak for you. Wanting to do nothing but touch you. Please you. Pleasure you- the whole nine yards.

That’s the whole reason why you’re here right now. Almost completely naked while lying on your back with her between your legs. With your legs up and spread nice and wide. And your soaking wet panties somewhere across the room. Though, you imagine they aren’t as wet as you were when Vi finally stopped teasing you and had you riding her tongue for so, so long. And you imagine they aren’t as wet as you right now

Considering just how easily this new dildo Vi bought for you glides so easily into your fluttering little hole.

“Then I’ll give you more,” Your girlfriend murmurs quietly as her hands work to make more of this shiny new toy disappear inside of you. Instantly, you’re pulling a face and breathing harder now than you were before. She moves slowly- not enough to get you loud or screaming. But enough to keep you a little noisy. To make you feel a little stretch. To get you biting at your lip and grabbing at her wrist for a chance to ground yourself as the dildo pushes further and further and further inside of you. “I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

You don’t doubt that. You didn’t doubt that. Not the first time she said it to you. Not the last time she said it to you. Not even for a second. You believed her full-heartedly when she called you to come back home and told you that she was going to take care of your every little need tonight.

You believed her completely when you arrived to see the packaging of a seven-inch bright pink and thick dildo in the trash and the toy itself sitting out on the counter to dry. And now you believe it with every fiber of your being. That she’ll take care of you. That she’ll pleasure you. Give you all you want. Especially now that had she started pushing this brand-new toy of hers past your lower lips and into your dripping-wet hole…

…only to pull it all the way out and shove it fully back in.

“Ah…” Your moans are soft. Near silent in this bedroom safe space she shares with you. But she drives it up. Her ears drink up every sound you and your lewd body make for her and for her alone. From the sounds of your moans and groans and gasps to the sounds of the sheets rustling beneath you. And even the wet, dirty sounds that your pussy makes as your walls are stretched out and stuffed full all by Vi’s doing. All by Vi’s hands. “Oh…oh…”

You start to sit up on the bed, propping yourself up on your arms as you try to watch her work out the tightness building within you. But she’s quick to take the hand she had on your waist and to push you back into flying flat on the bed. And without missing a beat, you find your legs being bent further and your body being nearly folded in half as Vi leans into you. But then she starts taking you further. While still using one hand to work the dildo inside of you- slipping it in and sliding it out so, so easily- she’s using the other to bring your knees to your chest.

This angle allows her to get closer to you. So, so much closer. Now her face is mere inches away from your drooling pussy, ready for your clit to be licked and flicked if Vi so wishes. Now her face is mere inches away from your chest- nipples ready to be sucked on if Vi so wishes. And even more than that- now her face is mere inches away from yours. With eyes ready to meet and lips ready to kiss and kiss until she has to remind you to breathe for her again.

And that’s exactly what she does.

Because while she’s kissing you, she can move even closer to you. She can swallow up your even sound- your every moan and cry and whimper and gasp for air. She can swallow it all up, and she owns it. And she does all of that while another hand comes up and cups at your boobs. Fondling them. Rolling a nipple between two fingers. Squeezing, touching, holding, feeling. But most of all?

She can do all that while working the dildo inside of you to reach deeper. To hit harder. To make the pleasure feel even more sweeter. Even more intense. Then the second before. And the second before that. And the second before that as well.

She can stretch you out. She can make you feel so full and stuffed and tight before pulling it all away. Making you miss the feeling of that brand-new toy being pushed past your lower lips and swallowed by your pretty little cunny. More than you miss the air that leaves your lungs. Because even though you know it’s going to come back. Even though you know it’s about to happen all over again and again and again and again? You find that it’s something to look forward to. You still find that it’s something that feels necessary. To keep on going. To keep on living. To keep on feeling good. To keep on being hers.

“Good girl...good, good, good girl….”

Her good girl.

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desolationtimstoker · 22 days

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gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

#don't mind me just sorting through headcanons #gerry keay #gerry delano keay #tmagp #tma #my post

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vettelsvee · 11 days

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BEE HOTELS | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

sebastian vettel x wife!journalist!reader

summary: seb's suzuka biodiversity project goes according to plan... or will he have some surprises that he might reject at first?

word count: 1983

warnings: none of it really! just seb being the standard, as i always write him (almost always, oops). use of y/n y/l/n

taglist: @celemilii bc i wrote this for her as a birthday present! i recommend you to read her works bc she's just like me: we write about the oldies.

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback is truly appreciated!

The painting in yellow and black tones increasingly filled his hands. Sweat dripped from his forehead, not only due to the sun that was blazing that day in Suzuka but also because of the stress he was feeling to ensure that the project turned out as planned: flawlessly.

Sebastian had spent months not only brainstorming and meticulously preparing for that Japanese Grand Prix weekend but also dedicating himself wholeheartedly the night before to build each of the hotels that his former colleagues were now painting.

He was exhausted, but the feeling of happiness he was experiencing at that moment was immense. The conversations among the other drivers couldn't be more positive. They seemed to be enjoying the process, constantly sharing laughter and jokes among them as they continued with their task the best they could.

While the German was focused on ensuring that everything was going perfectly, he could gradually see, out of the corner of his eye, a figure he knew perfectly well in any form.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?"

Her husband's tone surprised Y/N, who lowered her arms, disheartened, knowing that the hug she was about to give would most likely not be reciprocated.

"I came to see you. What else would I do?" replied the journalist, ignoring Seb's behavior. "And to interview you too, but you already know it."

The blonde frowned, feeling a bit confused by the situation. Interview him? How could there be nothing he wouldn't know?

"Interview me?" he innocently asked.

"Didn't Britta tell you?"

Sebastian shook his head once again. Y/N’s gaze shifted to Roeske, who averted his eyes at the mess he knew he had caused with the couple. The former driver's PR knew that if he had said anything beforehand, Seb would have likely rejected the offer and, most importantly, gotten upset. Besides, he knew that such a refusal would upset Mrs. Vettel, and that would end up in a pointless argument between the couple.

"Well, you know how Britta is. She didn't mention anything about interviewing me today, especially not by you. You know, with so many things she has to keep track of..." Vettel tried to excuse her.

The journalist shook her head and once again looked at the PR, seeking confirmation from his side. A single nod was enough to acknowledge that her client was right.

"Y/N, schön, we need to maintain professionalism," Vettel stated firmly, seeing that neither of the two women responded. "I don't think it's very appropriate to mix our personal life with the professional one. We've always done it this way, and we should..."

"To hell with professionalism, darling," she interrupted, raising her voice. "We've been pretending to be professional for too many years to keep doing it. You've been retired for almost a year, living the life you've always wanted with our children and me," she explained, trying to convince him. "It won't hurt if you let go and be yourself, if we just are ourselves."

Sebastian remained silent for a few seconds that felt eternal for the woman. He knew Y/N was right, he knew nothing would happen if they showed themselves as the couple they were in private, but his shyer side, the most introverted one, the one that wanted to protect his privacy above all and, above all, his family, felt a kind of fear that this would end up making him completely vulnerable to public scrutiny.

"Alright, let's do the interview," the German finally said, causing his wife to start hopping around before pouncing on him and kissing him all over his face.

"Where should we start, Mr. Vettel?"

"What about giving Mrs. Vettel a kiss?" he replied, playing along with the game the journalist had started. "You know, to help ease any tensions..."

Sebastian didn't need to say anything more for his wife to take his face in her hands and pull him towards her, giving him a kiss that lasted not only longer than they would have allowed on another occasion, but also longer than they themselves expected.

They ended up pulling away after a few seconds, just as they began to hear cheers, applause, and comments from the other drivers, who were watching the couple enthralled, as they had never shown themselves in such a way during their years in Formula 1.

"Carry on with what you're doing!" the four-time world champion shouted, trying not to sound angry. "I don't want anything left unfinished!"

Y/N couldn't help but blush and lower her head in embarrassment at all the attention she was drawing.

"Um... shall we start now, darling?" the journalist spoke again, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Yes, yes, of course. Go ahead, ask me anything."

She quickly pulled out her notebook, where she had written down a large number of questions to ask her husband as if she hadn't actually worked hand in hand with him on the project. She tried to maintain professionalism despite the still uncomfortable situation they were immersed in.

Seb, who seemed to notice how tense the woman was, decided to do things a little differently, although it was more than obvious that it took him some effort to take the first step.

Quickly and with trembling hands, he wrapped his right arm around his wife's waist and slowly guided her to sit on the ground next to him. She resisted at first because, deep down, she was also afraid to show herself as she truly was with the love of her life; but when she saw how the German also invited the cameraman who was filming them to sit on the ground, she knew there was no choice but to listen to the guy who initially meant nothing to her but ended up becoming her everything.

"More comfortable like this, right, schön?" Sebastian wanted to know, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yes, I think it will be more comfortable, darling," she replied, allowing herself to be guided by her husband's behavior, although once again blushing slightly.

With her head resting on his shoulder, the journalist took her notebook in her hands again, flipping through the page where she had the first question of what would undoubtedly be the most fake interview not only she had ever done but probably would do in her extensive career as a journalist.

"Well, let's start, darling. What inspired you the most to start this biodiversity project?"

"Well, as you know, I've always felt a special connection with nature and the environment. Do you remember the conversations we used to have, like, I don't know, about twelve or thirteen years ago?" she nodded. Of course, she remembered. How could she forget when he revealed to her how much the issue mattered to him at his home in Monaco, even before they had started dating? "I wanted to do something to show the importance of biodiversity, so these bee hotels seemed perfect to me."

"And why Suzuka, Seb?"

"Do you really need an answer to that question?" the man countered, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you already knew."

Now it was Y/N who looked less than pleased. Of course she knew why he had chosen Suzuka, it's just that the viewers, possibly, didn't.

"Suzuka is a very special place for me, both professionally and personally," the German continued. "This place has witnessed many important moments of my life, and I wanted to somehow give back everything it has done for me. Its people, I mean," he hastened to add. The journalist laughed at the incoherence of the response, earning herself a playful punch on the arm and some affectionate insults.

The interview continued in such a way that, more than a recording that would be broadcast on various media later, it seemed like one of those informal chats the couple used to have in their room, lying on the bed they both shared, after reading a story to their children and leaving them completely asleep.

Laughs, knowing looks, and even some intimate memories that ended up being revealed to the camera flowed effortlessly. Sebastian couldn't stop playing with Sally's hands and hair, caressing them so delicately that she seemed like a porcelain doll. The journalist, on her part, couldn't stop running her index finger up and down her husband's arm, writing invisible messages about how much she loved him.

"To finish I'd like to know something, darling. How was the process of designing and building each one of those bee hotels?"

"As you already know, and for those who are watching, I was lucky to work with a local carpenter yesterday. We worked on them all day long, and even part of the night. There are eleven in total: one for each team, and one for me," replied the German with a big smile.

His wife started laughing, and her lips twisted in a way that it wasn't hard for Vettel to recognize that his wife was hiding something.

"In fact, there are twelve, Seb," the journalist said with a playful tone.

"What do you mean twelve?" he asked, quite confused. "Love, you were there yesterday. There were eleven. One for each team, one for every two drivers, and another for..."

"I made one myself and I painted it too. Well... some parts are already painted because I asked the kids, secretly, to paint them so you could have a little piece of them here..."

The former driver was impressed by his wife's confession, and he couldn't help but feel emotional. Even a couple of tears threatened to leave his eyes when he saw Y/N, completely excited, getting up from the grass and fixing her clothes before reaching out her hand to him.

"What are you waiting for, Seb? Come on, you have to see it!"

Seb followed her, feeling a mix of very strange emotions after sharing life with this girl for so many years. When they arrived, they stopped in front of it, Britta taking photos from every possible angle and then starting a video call with the couple's children, who were staying with Seb’s parents.

"Schön, this is... God, I have no words. It's incredible."

Y/N smiled proudly before heading towards the structure and start explaining him everything.

"I've drawn us here, right in the front," indeed, there were two larger figures next to three smaller ones, surrounded by flowers and trees. "And here are the kids' drawings. Honestly, I don't know what they've drawn, but... I knew it would make you happy to have a little piece of them too."

The blonde bent down in front of the hotel made by his wife, examining it carefully as he traced with his fingers the strokes that Emily, Matilda, and Ben had made who knows when, and that seemed to have been well hidden. They were simple, clumsy, but he knew that behind them there was something much more important: the purest love he had ever experienced and that nothing and no one could surpass, not even his wife.

"It's wonderful, Y/N. You have no idea what this means to me."

Y/N could only approach her husband and give him a chaste kiss on the lips, not caring this time what happened next.

"I did it for you, Seb. I love you, we love you," she corrected herself, turning towards the mobile phone in front of them that Britta still held, referring to their children, who could be heard excitedly. "You are the sunshine of our lives and you deserve much more than this."

Sebastian didn't hesitate to, once again, kiss Y/N, and then hug her tightly, continuing to give her kisses on her temples.

"I wouldn't be the sunshine of your life if you weren't in it," he whispered in her ear. "You are the sunshine of my life. I love you, Y/N. Thank you for everything."

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