#i need help eek

[thisisew]

Mr Mechanic {Toji Fushiguro} **So this is actually my first written work (not just shitposting anymore), I'm warming up to the idea of sharing some of my fan fiction. This is based off of a chat.ia, authored by @sxgarcore -> He's a mechanic and you need his help. Let me know if you want a Part 2!** Warnings: just a little nsfw... not that much at all. Like I said, I'm warming up lol.

It had been a blistering, sweltering day. The perfect day for a ride, but the absolute worst day to break down on the side of the road. As you had. In the middle of who knows where, the soft purr of the engine had stuttered twice, only giving you moments to pull off the freeway before your sleek bike died completely. Now, you knew your motorbikes, but you were in no shape or form (or place with the tools necessary) to even think about trying to fix whatever was wrong with your metal baby. So here you are, panting, practically dripping sweat as you finally roll your bike into the mechanic of the nearest town. Thank whichever Gods that there was one.

The day was cooling only just now the sun had begun to set, and your protective biker's jacket had long been stripped off and tied loosely around your waist. Leaving you in a grey, fitted tank top. The way you pant as you roll into the garage looking for help is comical, and it alerts said mechanic who is under a beat up, old dusty truck. He rolls out from under the car, using a rag to wipe grease from his hands. 

"Can I help ya sugar?" He asks, and you pause to catch your breath as his eyes run up and down your figure. 

"Well?"

You wipe some sweat from your brow and smile as best you can given the circumstance.

"My bike… broke down some miles down the freeway. M'so glad I found you!

His eyebrows jump in slight amusement and he chuckles. "Alright. It happens." He crosses his arms over his wide chest, muscles tensing in a way that finds you suddenly very interested in your nails as you fidget. He walks towards you with concentration and you step back so he can take a look at your bike. You feel awkward standing in silence, it's not even like you can go somewhere, you are stranded in the garage with a ridiculously hot and greased up hunk of muscle. Shit.

"I've been working on her myself… I really should've known better than to take her out for this big a trip… I was hopeful though." You sigh in disappointment, gazing longingly at the machine before you, thinking back to the weekend when you had thought it a good idea to tinker.

He doesn't reply straight away, just assesses the bike with meticulous focus. You wonder how meticulous he is with other things… you wonder if he has a girlfriend. He breaks your train of thought. "Here's the problem," he points to a part with a fracture through the side. "This is gonna need to be replaced… and she ain't cheap. It'll be a couple of hundred bucks." He stands, looking you over with what you think could be the slightest tinge of pity.

You swear slightly under your breath at the price, even though you should know by now having a bike isn't cheap. You try your best to remain polite. "You know, I love my bike… but sometimes I swear to God she does my head in." As you speak, you unwrap your jacket from your waist and chuck it over the seat of your bike, needing to fish around for your wallet that is in there somewhere. As you look for your wallet you don't notice how he smirks as you swear under your breath, or how his gaze dips hesitantly down your back.

"What's your name?" His question feels slightly out of the blue, but you reply nonetheless. It makes you feel slightly giddy that you get to exchange names. You swear again as you dig around for your wallet and Toji's gaze is now directly on your ass as it sticks out slightly. He eyes the curve of your butt under your jeans and feels bold. "Question… you single? Just, curiosity of course." He says as if he's the politest, most gentlemanly guy in the world.

Your eyes snap to his, a nice pink flush on your cheeks which you purposefully choose to ignore. "You coming onto me or something?" You ask a bit incredulous. Lord knows this man is not without ladies… and yet, here he is alone in his garage on a nice evening.

"Yeah, I am." He chuckles, stepping closer. "So, you got a boyfriend?"

You give him a onceover. You wonder how often he plays this little role of his, all hunky and brooding. It gives you an itch of irritation when people play it so cool, so you reply in kind. "Nope." You pop the 'p' after giving him a once over and he grins with teeth at the attitude.

"Well then, you free tonight?" He asks leaning down. You have to look up at him, you quickly realise he's too tall for you to look at all intimidating  and as he continues to close the distance between your faces you shuffle and hold up a hand. 

"Hold up, big guy. You're gonna need to try a bit harder than that."

An actually laugh escapes him (rude), and he wraps a free strand of hair around his finger as he looks down at you. "Try me, babe." You feel the defiance in you beginning to crumble due to the soft rasp in his voice, his dark eyes and his really, really distracting shoulders and arms. It's all you can do to whisper a reply. "I'll have you know I'm tougher than I look, to handle that is." You don't know if you’re cringing or feeling good about the reply but the amused twinkle in his eye tells you he thinks it's pretty cute. 

"I think I can handle it… you." He's back to all smirks as your breath shakes in exhale.

His arms land on your bike behind you, trapping you. You can feel your heart stuttering slightly at his intense gaze. The way he leans into you - nosing just brushing -  sends your mind blank, eyes flicking to his lips, the small scar at the corner. His lips barely graze yours as he mutters to you. "I need a yes…" there is a slight twitch of his jaw, and you realise he is waiting- no, holding himself back.

You feel a shiver up your spine as you whisper a reply. "Please." 

The words are barely out of your mouth before his lips seal against yours, his large, rough hands cupping your jaw and tilting your face up to meet his at a deeper angle. You feel as though the breath has been stolen from you, and you just know your face his bright pink as your hands curl into his hair. He groans at the touch and his body pushed up against yours. Your lips part slightly as you feel his tight muscles against your soft curves, his hands now leaving your face and running down your sides. His fingers squeezing spots here and there along the way. He pushes a thick thigh between your legs and you have to grip his tank so you don't fall back onto your bike. A small noise escapes you at the friction between your thighs, breath stuttering.

He grins against your mouth, breaking the kiss and moving his lips down your neck in soft, kisses. He seems to realise his height is a problem for this, and in a swift movement he has hooked his hands under your ass and hoisted you up into his arms, making a approving grunt as you automatically hook your legs around his waist. He plants small bites down you neck easily now, panting softly as he sucks and nips at your soft skin. Each shuddering breath you make because of the action strokes his ego and you feel his hard, needy erection pressing firmly against your hips.

Your mind feels slightly static, a bit disconnected from what's happening but also completely aware of every slight touch and move. As if it’s too unbelievable so it is obviously just a really, really realistic wet dream. He's carrying you somewhere, pressing some button that has the garage doors closing with a grating whine of metal scraping against metal. Just as you whisper his name, you're plonked down on a workbench, papers crumpling. You try to ask if they're are important but he huffs. "As if I give a shit about that right now." His hands roam your thighs as he stands back to look at your flushed, slightly dazed expression.

"Look at you… if this is what some making out does, I'm about to wreck you." He grins wickedly, lust so evident in his eyes you feel your pussy throb, clenching around nothing. Yet.

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #y/n #reader insert #jjk x reader #help I need support #pls be nice it's my first try #eek #toji is BIG #I just know he is

[wtfcl0ud]

the worst thing abt work is tht sincerely 8 hrs w/o music is difficult like im just sitting herr eating in silence screaming crying throwing up

#and i esp need a distraction while i eat #n music also helps with the anxiety #eek! #cloud nonsense

[cubeg1rl]

🐝

#melancholy day 2day #i need to get moving and start my little tasks #have had such a wonderful little break for Kat's 30th and I'm back to work Mon #things r over so soon these days! #also I'm feeling really really nervous about work bcos I think there are some things I'm supposed to have done like #literally months ago that I haven't done and it's fully freaking me out #customer facing stuff too so EEK #i think i need to take it to izzy and ask her for help but I'm soo scared. do it scared and then it will be better but also: literally eek #I'm such a freeze response girlie it truly is not ideal #ok. so I'm saying here first thing mon I will ask her about it. she's a comrade so I think it will be ok I just have to move past the #shame/guilt wall 🧱 #& I'm going to !!!!!!!! #I'm going to!!!!!!

[daydreamerdrew]

Captain Marvel Adventures #15

#eek #normally when Billy needs guidance he talks to Captain Marvel #but I love that when he can’t get help from Cap he can go to the Wizard #dc #fawcett comics #marvel family #billy batson #my posts #comic panels

[dirt-str1der]

Ngh awake thinking about the way phantasmagorias author portrays the majima everywhere alert through prose like YOW the second before the door slams open you already feel ten thousand icy cold needles shooting into your skin so deep they pierce to the marrow, like youve walked into a spiderweb spun with threads of fate and theyre all wrapping around you and trying to converge inside your body and then the door opens and its him. Its really him and you have every reason to square your shoulders up and tell him get the FUCK out of my home

#Yakuza liveblog #like aoaoayooouuu i lovee this fic so much i consider it the Best One. i adore how utterly faithful it is to the games even if the author #despises the kiwamis LOL but whenever i read it i go EEK !!! and start kicking my feet like a girl #i linked chapter two which was the start of the encounter but chapter two has many many many MANY terrible scenes where kiryus just being #fucked up and over and sideways by literally everything and it sucks to read #and you can really tell how unhappy he is because instead of letting his fists talk first his confusion actually splits through his rage #beacause the sight of majima alone ... dangerous and a stranger to this new life hes destroying his back and hands to build... kiryu #recognoses him as not a ‘friend’ really but an Opportunity. hes shot back a year into the past where every songle day would be bloody #knuckles and split lips and hes comfortable in a body aching with bruises and pumping hot blood through his veins. he fucking hates #construction work he hates that he cant make enough to even buy haruka some new damn shoes he hates that his days are packed full with #below minumum wage hours he hates that people out there need help and hes forced to keep his head down and work work work himself to death #and back again just to make instant noodles for breakfast for his daughter and tap water for himself ... but he will do it. he will keep #doing it for as long as it takes if it means haruka can keep going to school and haruka will keep going to school even if she hates it #because her papas working so damn hard for her to have the shot at life that he didnt. haruka the same girl whos going to take on someone #elses dream and make it come true. not for herself because thats not what she wanted at all... someone told her papa that its every little #girls dream to be a star and he believed it .. so she believes it too. even if its not true. she kept believing it when she realised that #mireis dreams had landed squarely on her shoulders and she had to make it all come true just so she could come running back to do what she #actually wants !!! she wants her dad she wants her siblings she wants her family !!!! thats just how it is sometimes !! she inherited kiryus #tendency to be the big hero and yet kiryu is just a tad more selfish than she is because he saw majima in that doorway and kamurochos scent #flooded his shitty little apartment again and he wanted it badly so so badly that he couldnt help but let majima in #hello by the way hii :) #helioshellion is a fucking genius even if i cant spell their url ever

[multifandomhoodies]

in a cycle of I have GOT to look gayer

#i need people to look at me and go EEK A DYKE #while also staying true to my normie core ass. hope this helps!

[sadieshavingsex]

bro couldn’t be me going to my friends for advice about sex and relationships and taking them at their word for years before realizing I’m actually way more experienced than them at both sex and relationships……….

#mine #relationship anxiety #sex therapy #me when I think I need so much help to understand this and it turns out I’ve experienced way more than them in so many ways!!!! eek #no offense to them but just odd that I always assume everyone has it together more than me because they speak confidently on a topic lol??? #what is going on #idk what I’m saying like this isn’t shade on my friends more shade on my inability to believe in myself and my own inner compass

[stargirlo]

men that talk u thru it while they destroy ur insides ♡.

oki okie. having sex w ur boyfie can be consensual and gentle at some times, but there can also be nights were he absolutely destroys you in & out >< while he says the sweetest things against ur ear!! eek! it makes u melt into a little puddle like an ice cream melting on the sun.

he has u in a mating press, pussy in display, boobs all mushed against one another as his hips rut against yours. he's huffing and panting like a dog getting its treat before leaning his upper body against yours, his grip on the back of your knees tightens slightly as his hips snap and roll into your pussy. his cock nuzzles in deep into your sopping hole, a lewd squelch erupting along the way.

his lips brush against the shell of your ear, whispering sweet nothings and praises into your ear.

"my good girl, takin' me so well . . . you like it, baby? c'mon answer me . . ."

"i know, i know, sweetie . . . jus' one more 'kay? i promise, one last time."

as he brings you close to another orgasm, he'll always embrace you close to him, assuring you that you're doing such a good job and calling you his good girl :(( all the while ur a crying mess & babbling how it's too much, and he knows that it's too much 4 you </3

"let it all out baby, yeah i got you . . i got you, fuck─ you're so tight, sugar . . ."

"aah─ you're so pretty like this, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl . . ."

"fuck, look at me like that again and i might just fuck you again . ."

he prolongs the pleasure by rubbing your clit slowly in circles as he continues praising you, his cock throbbing and softening inside you as his cum slightly gushes out of your pussy, watching it flow down beneath the wrinkled bedsheets.

"i know i promised that this will be the last one but . . . i can't help it, sweetheart. need ta' fuck you one more time . . . can you do that for me, again?"

oh boyyyyyyyy :oooooo

💌: suguru geto, nanami kento, hiromi higuruma, shinichiro sano, draken, mitsuya takashi, chifuyu matsuno, ran haitani (sometimes :<<<), jj maybank, hawks, zhongli, jing yuan, gepard, kuroo tetsuro ++ your favs!!!

#( xoxo ) ✶ rosalina ! #jjk x reader #jjk smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #obx x reader #obx smut #mha x reader #mha smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #geto suguru smut #getou suguru x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #hiromi x reader #hiromi smut #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro smut #draken x reader #draken smut #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya smut #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu smut #ran x reader #jj maybank smut #ran smut

[abbyshands]

Good nigth darling,you're okay?can we have more nerdy!abby pleaase i beg you 🙏🙏🙏(srry for my inglish)

teach me

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; hello, my love! i’m good, and i hope you are too! of course EEK i was going to write more for her anyway, i love a nerdy girl. also this is cut off asf I’M SORRY i’m tired, maybe i’ll do a part 2 if y’all ask <3

synopsis; you’ve never been good at science, let alone college biology. when your professor all but forced you to get a tutor, who should you end up with but your nerdy girlfriend, who has a very unique way of getting you to study?

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; abby uses baby/princess, use of a strap-on, cockwarming + edging (kinda), abby refers to the strap as her dick and it’s referred to as her dick/cock, choking, spanking, degradation (ish. abby’s tone is just mean), anddd i prob missed smt so lmk <3

wc; 2.2k

p.s.; ALSO this is was ib an ellie fic i saw bro idk where tf it is 😭 searching for it tho. i js remember it was nerdy ellie. it was so good BUT LIKE WHERE IS ITTT idk i’ll link it here if i find it

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

you’ve always sucked at science. biology, chemistry, whatever the hell it was, it had never been your cup of tea.

your professor had not so kindly recommended you get a tutor. otherwise, your grades would decline (more than they already were, that is). you didn't want a tutor, let alone for it to be someone you didn't know. you were already feeling awkward enough having to have someone tutor you at all—you couldn't imagine if it was by an unfamiliar.

that's where abby came in.

abby anderson was your girlfriend, and she was a nerd. like, cliche movie nerd. if you couldn't find her in her dorm, with you, or in class, she was at the library, doing homework until she couldn't anymore. she was a coffee addict with how late she was up each evening, study sessions, unnecessarily reviewing, and, again, homework.

let's just say, abby anderson would do crazy things for an a.

you didn't necessarily want to have abby as your tutor. for some reason, it was embarrassing to you. you had already felt that way when you told her you needed one at all. it would be 10x worse if she would be the one doing it.

not only that, the focus.

how the fuck were you going to focus when you have abby fucking anderson in front of you? when your mind races with memories of her fucking you from behind, or kissing down your neck, or making you the wettest you've ever been, just by being alive?

you weren't.

but abby was persistent. you had originally said no when she first asked to tutor you, but when the guy who was supposed to tutor you didn't even show for your first session, it was no longer a request.

it was a demand.

you were sitting beside abby in her dorm, working on an assignment for your biology class that was due the following day. you had taken up to ten breaks by now, and it had only been an hour and a half or so.

abby pushed her glasses up on her face as she looked over at you, eyebrow raised. you had been dozing off, elbow on the desk and chin on your palm as your eyes began to fall shut.

"hey," abby snapped her large hand in front of your face, making your eyes open again just as quickly as it had happened. "are you listening to me?"

no.

"yeah. yeah, sorry, i just, um—dna and rna. that's what we're learning now, right?" you ask confusedly, doing your best to make it seem like you know what you’re talking about.

but the look on abby's face tells you all you need to know.

"mhm, like, ten minutes ago," abby hums a bit annoyedly, and you can't help but let out a sigh. it's bad enough you have to be here at all, but letting abby down, or worse, pissing her off, was the last thing you wanted to do. “you're never going to learn if you don't put any effort in," she sighs.

“c’mon, abs,” you whined as you set your pencil aside, putting your head down on the desk, eyes on abby. the blonde set her own pen down with a small shake of the head, expression unreadable. “i can’t do this anymore,” you said dramatically. abby rolled her eyes.

“what’s wrong now?” abby asked, but it’s not like she really wanted to know the answer. you knew how seriously abby took her own schoolwork, which may be the reason she was annoyed that you didn’t. but you just weren’t like that.

“none of this makes sense. i can’t remember a thing we go over. god, i hate biology,” you complained once more, looking away from abby.

abby sighed as she put a hand on your shoulder. as much as she wanted to be annoyed, she loved you, and she knew full well that even if you were smart, biology was your worst class.

“what can i do to help, baby? flashcards, d’you want me to quiz you? what do you need?” abby asked as she moved her hand to your back, rubbing it. you shrugged.

“i dunno. i don’t think any of that stuff is going to help me, abby. my memory’s—not that good,” you lamely huffed, but it was true. your memory was best when it came down to the things you cared for. college biology was not one of them.

“hm,” abby hummed. it took a beat, a small pause. but then, abby’s perked eyebrows told you that she had just gotten an idea, and so did the way her plump lips curled into a grin.

“i think i know what’ll do the trick.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

that’s how you ended up on abby’s lap, her cock buried deep inside of you as she gripped you by the bottom. abby’s way of bettering your sour memory came in the form of one of the most agonizing experiences you had ever had.

“how does dna differ from rna?” abby asks you casually, as if she isn’t filling you to the brim. you feel your face getting hot, bottom lip bitten down on as you look at her nervously.

“u- uhm. d- dna has a d- double helix model, fuck,” you whine. you must be at least a little correct, because abby bucks her hips up into you, causing the silicone dildo to move inside of you. “rna’s single, a- and involved in a different process than dna.”

“attagirl,” abby praised. it’s then that she grabbed you by the ass, hard, and forced you to ride up to the top of her dick, just before she’s slamming you back down. for only a few seconds, you gain some pleasure by moving your body like that, or abby doing it for you, that is.

but then, she’s robbing it away from you, just like that.

“a- abby, please, c’mon,” you whimper. this had been going on for a third of an hour or so. abby would ask you a question from the deck of index cards she had made for you, and you would answer. simple, right?

wrong.

because here's the thing: she wouldn’t move unless you answered her, and it had to be correct. and if not?

smack.

abby's large hand comes down on your ass as if to shut you up. really, it doesn't. you let out a moan as she then grabs your ass again, not giving a care to how sore you may be.

because she's already slapped you way too many times to count.

“don't act like this isn't for your own good," she says firmly, reprimanding you. "you got that one wrong last time. and we’re not going to stop until you’ve got that whole fucking deck memorized, you got that?” she asks, signaling to the forgotten pile of index cards on the desk behind you. you whine, body too achy for abby to deny her.

“f- fine," you whine, because who the hell would you be to say no?

“good girl," abby praises as she rubs her hands over your bottom, caressing you in a loving manner, a wide difference to the way she was addressing you mere seconds before. "now, can you tell me what a neuron is?”

doing your best to not focus on the feeling inside you, you nod, and easily answer. “a- a neuron—" you huff. "is a specialized cell.”

abby moves her hands to your hips and pushed you up, so that you're around halfway down on her cock. you let out a small shudder, but it must mean you're correct. “and what’s it do?” abby then asks.

to some degree.

but you know this one. after all, it was one of the last cards you looked at in the deck. so, you respond, “transmit.”

abby moves you up more, and this time, she brings one of her hands up to cup your tit. she plays with your nipple if only for a second, causing you to let out a low moan. but just when you think she's going to keep going, of course, she doesn't.

“transmit what?” she asks firmly as her fingers caress your rib cage, and it's all you can do not to roll your eyes.

“nerve impulses," you say a bit too fast, eager to have her hands back on you. your neediness helped you on that one. "i- it’s the basic unit of the nervous system," you add, for good measure.

"that's right, princess," abby smirked, course she did. she had always had way too much fun when she was driving you crazy during sex. this was no different.

but you're pleased to find yourself rewarded, because abby allows you to ride her again. you move up and down a little quickly, scared that your girlfriend will rob you of the feeling before it's even begun. abby begins to rub your clit as she gazes at you fucking yourself on her dick, way too needy for her touch.

"eager girl," abby cooed, rubbing her index on your clit in quick circles. "so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

"yes," you huff out fast, eyes closing shut at the feeling under you.

"too bad."

abby shoves you all the way back down her dick, so that you're all the way back down at the base. it pleasures you for only a second, before the feeling vanishes, just like that.

"abby, f- fuck," you groan annoyedly, body begging for a release you know abby won't give you unless you do what she tells you to do.

and she doesn't like your words.

abby grabs you by the neck, forcing you to look at her as you roll your eyes in the brattiest manner she's ever seen from you. "look at me. look at me when i'm talking to you," and she uses that tone you know she only uses when she's not playing games, barking your full name out at the end like the word pains her tongue.

once she's got your eyes on her, she speaks once more. "if you really want this dick, and i know you do, you're gonna take what i give you like the good girl you are. that clear?"

you keep your eyes on her, scared of what will happen if you don't, face hot as you answer. "y- yes, ma'am."

"primary use of the kidneys?" abby asks, not even giving you praise for obeying her. but you're not at all surprised by that: if there was one thing about abby, she did not like your bratty side.

this time, unlike what abby's asked you before, you can't remember the answer to this. like, at all. you fumble with it for a second, digging through your head for what it could be. but you don't get a response.

"i- i don't know," you dumbly stutter, genuinely unsure of what to say. abby isn't having it, obviously, because one mlre spank is coming down onto your ass before you know it.

"f- fuck!" you whine brokenly, head rocking back, and bottom sore from each hit abby's given you. she doesn't seem to care.

"yes, you do," she all but growls at you, and you think of your real class all too quickly, like she's your professor. "we went over this. so fucking tell me," she says, and it only makes your abdomen churn more.

and fill with butterflies.

“s- something to do with b- blood pressure, right? c- controlling it? please say yes," you were begging more to yourself than to abby, not even sure where that answer came from.

“mhm, and what else?" she coos, doing what she's done a million times before: moving you halfway up her cock.

"i- i don't know, abs. can't remember," you mutter, and really, how could you by now?

it looks like abby is feeling a little generous this time, because she helps you along. "what’s it do to your body, princess? begins with an 'r',” she asked.

even when your brain begins to fog up with all of the questions in your head, and what's happening besides that, it seems to click for you when abby says the letter 'r.' “r- regulates it? th- the fluid balance?”

“mhm," abby says with a small nod of approval, even kissing your chest this time as a reward.

"there’s my smart girl.”

and it goes on like that forever, question, answer, question, answer. sometimes, you got abby's cock easily. most times, you weren't so lucky.

your eyes are drooping, body aching and face hot as you stutter out the answer to the final card in the deck. once you do, you let out a deep, long exhale, which makes abby chuckle.

"see, pretty girl? wasn't that bad, was it?" abby coos, putting her hand up to cup your cheek. obviously, you want to say no. but after all of this, it was too risky to be bratty to abby. so you shake your head.

and you hadn’t even finished yet.

"n- no, it was—fine," you lie, and abby knows you are. but she doesn't ask about it, knowing full well how much she's done to you already.

"look on the good side.”

“you'll remember better now, won't you?"

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

———

#abby anderson #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby tlou #the last of us smut #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #tlou2 smut

[wegc]

omg thots on 3some w 3racha in the studio….???🫣 w the door unlocked..???? eek!!!

first thought is that a 3some with 3racha is genuinely a fucking dream because HELLO!!! two super fucking buff men fucking the shit out of you and one insatiable, greedy, pussy drunk brat sloppily kissing you all over? give it to me NOW!

i can just envision being caught by changbin and jisung when you and chan are making out on the studio couch, you perched securely on his lap with two firm hands groping your ass. chan usually locks the door, but this time he was careless, and perhaps he wanted changbin and jisung to witness how he gets to have you, all desperate and out of breath after he catches them staring at you far too many times.

when poor jisung opens the door, he can’t help the flush of his face and the overwhelming sensation of his cock stirring in his sweatpants because you look so fuckable, and your ass looks so soft, and god—would you grind your cunt like that above him?

changbin wants to reprimand chan; as their hyung, he should’ve been more cautious, more responsible—they produce music here every day and now the pair of you are moments from fucking each other right on the studio couch? but he doesn't say anything. how can he when his throat becomes drier than it has ever become? how can he say anything when he’s dreamt of you in this situation for so long? and when chan finally looks over and shyly laughs before beckoning him to take you next, how can he say no when he’s fisted his cock to this very scenario?

changbin would be rough and fast, pounding you from behind, slapping your ass, and yanking your hair, almost punishing you for being such a whore—for being so keen to endure three cocks one after the other. he prays to whatever deity out there that he earns the chance of doing this again because he needs to fuck your ass; that ought to teach you a lesson! if you wanna get fucked so bad, take all three of them at once!

“god—you’re fucking insatiable, aren’t you? you’d bend over for some dick anywhere, huh?”

and chan, who landed the two of you in this predicament in the first place, calls you his greedy little thing. he’d be temperate compared to the other two, cooing and laughing breathlessly in your face, peppering you with lingering, sloppy kisses and urging you to jerk hannie off as he takes care of you.

“you like that, pretty? yeah, i know baby—you gonna cry? feels that good? can’t go a day without being filled up, hm? i’ll give it to you.”

and jisung, dirty little jisung who wants it messy—who yearns to spit in your mouth and have you choke and gag on his sore, thick cock as you’re getting fucked. jisung, who smears your mascara down your flushed cheeks and ensures you leave stains of your lipstick on his dick—he needs you to be a fucking mess.

“always so proper around everyone else—stupid slut for us though, yeah? tell me you like being used like this—nothing but a hole for us, yeah?"

or, perhaps one day, you'll make a mess out of him too. jisung wants nothing more than for you to spit in his face and slap him around. leave bruised, splotchy marks on his chest! call him your stupid fucking slut! bully him for being so desperate to eat you out! tug on his hair every time he becomes all fuzzy when he's eating you out! his eye will roll back, i promise.

either way, when they're not playing with you in the meanwhile, chan and changbin will be fisting their aching, overstimulated cocks, engraving this memory in their minds eternally to preserve it for masturbation fuel later!!!

#bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #seo changbin smut #seo changbin x reader #changbin smut #changbin x reader #han jisung smut #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #3racha smut #3racha x reader #answered #mutuals

[0tea-cryptid0]

Fuck it, Fanart time.

#fanart #art #artstudent #please god help me #i need money #give me your money #i just want to make things i enjoy but no one else would like it and i need money #eek #sketch

[moechies]

wakatoshi ʚɞ

“y’feel so good honey.”

your cunt sinks onto his meaty tip, pulsing erratically at the unfamiliar stretch.

“hah—.. h-help me, please!”

“take your time, you can do it.”

you try, you really do, shoving yourself onto your lovers cock. he holds you tightly but the fat of your hips, gently guiding your cunt to wrap more and more of him.

“eek— w-waka!”

he sighs, face flushed and eyes shut tight from the pleasure. he lays back into the soft of the bed, peeking out of one eye to watch your flustered expression and your body shiver with pleasure.

“please , n-need your help. i can’t do it m’self..” you mewl, body giving up and landing atop of his, sniffles muffled as you hide yourself into the crook of his neck.

“poor baby.” he teases, soothing over your hair with one hand, the other soothing across your shivering ass. “too much for my honey?”

you nod, bracing yourself as he flips you under him, forced to meet his eyes as he hovers above you.

“y’were almost there,” he stares down at the remainder of his cock you were unable to get inside your cunt, sloppy swipes over your clit in order to quiet his baby’s complaints. “y’gonna do better next time? so i don’t have to do all the work, hm ?”

“y-yes..! t-thank you waka, thank you f’helping me!”

he groans; what sweet pleasure it was to feel your plump ass meet his pelvis.

“no need. thank you f’this perfect pussy honey.”

#haikyu brainrot forgive me #this is funny cus tendou is my fav character actually . #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #hq wakatoshi #wakatoshi smut #ushijima x reader #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima smut #ushijima x you #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

[luveline]

dad!steve eek!!! maybe some for kbd!? no rush, anyway love you!! <3

kisses before dinner au —mom!reader, 1.1k

Bethie squirms uncomfortably in your lap. “I’m sorry, mommy,” she says. 

“Well don’t be,” you say, hand to her forehead and holding her back so she can see your face, how you’re not angry. “It’s okay. You don’t like it?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

You don’t get it. Bethie hasn’t eaten anything all day. She refused breakfast, snacks, smoothies, and hot chocolate. The plate in front of her repulses her, no matter how gently you plead with her to try it. “Honey, I don’t see how that can be true.”

She’s in your lap because you’d been hoping helping her eat might make it easier for her. She was thrilled to sit in your lap, but not even slightly inclined to eat her mac and cheese, or any sides. You offer her a slim carrot baton shining with honey, wiggling it from side to side. 

“Doesn’t that look yummy?” you ask softly. 

She looks down at her hands. 

You drop the carrot. You’re genuinely perturbed. Not easily panicked, this has thrown you off kilter. Beth has been picky ever since she started school, and you don’t mind, you’ll accommodate and feel sorry that she misses out on Steve’s chicken pot pie, but there’s a difference between being picky and having a total aversion to food she used to enjoy. 

Avery tries to pretend she’s not watching. Steve doesn’t bother, frowning deeply despite the baby in the high chair beside him and Dove on his thigh, the two girls giggling about something. The rest of them have cheeks covered in cheese sauce and sticky lips, but your Beth…

Maybe it’s too much to have everyone watching, you think. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s leave it for later, yeah? Will you help mommy with something? Is that okay?” 

Beth nods emphatically. “Yes!” 

You help her down off of your lap and take her little hand. “We’ll be back in a minute.” 

Steve shakes his head, at a loss. “Sure,” he says, though his face says something different. What are we going to do? “Take your drink.”

You grab the glass if only to appease your worrier. 

You and Beth leave the kitchen and the living room to sit on the stairs. There isn’t much privacy to be made in the house, but this will do. You put her on the step above you to sit eye to eye, and you take her little hand, rubbing circles slowly into the soft palm of it. 

“Is there something mommy can get you?” you whisper. “Anything at all. Because you’re so big now, you know you need to keep yourself nice and strong with dinner. Yeah? You need to eat so you can have lots of energy. I know,” —you smile at her startled frown— “you said you’re not hungry, but it’s okay. We don’t have to eat all of something. Me and you could go have McDonald’s, or pizza! We could have something special. We could go get donuts. Anything you want, even if it’s only one bite.” 

“I don’t know, mom…” 

“Anything you want, baby. Even if we get there and you don’t want it anymore, or it’s not what you thought.” 

Bethie decides in whispers that she’d like McDonald’s ice cream. You could cry. You almost do when you con her into eating half of ‘your’ cheeseburger on the drive home, her little feet swinging in the footwell as she licks ketchup off of her fingers. 

You show Steve the wrapper when you get home proudly. 

“Good job, mom,” Steve says, reaching for you in the doorway. 

Bethie brandishes the cup tray of ice creams to her sisters in delight. They scramble in screeches to get there first. 

“Wren!” Bethie cheers, wiggling an ice cream at her baby sister where she lays in a bouncer. “Mom, can I feed Wren?” 

“Only the plain one, baby.”

“Yeah, I know. Wren, look! I have ice cream. You want ice cream?” 

“Little spoonfuls,” Avery says, reaching for her own ice cream, big sister instincts quelled by excitement. “Oh my gosh, there’s fudge.” 

Steve nudges your hip with his hand. “Hey, you okay?” 

“That was a bit scary.” 

“It’s just a bad day for her. She’s okay. Did you eat anything?” he asks, curling an arm behind your back. 

“No. I got you a strawberry-kiwi smoothie, though.” 

“Anything for yourself?” 

You shake your head. “I knew Beth would only eat if I was eating it, so I had a bite.” 

“You’re a genius,” he says, hugging you to his side. His shirt smells like detergent under your nose. “I kept your dinner in the oven. Only take a minute to heat back up.” 

“Did you eat yours?” 

He puts his lips to your cheek and doesn’t answer. 

“This is nice,” you murmur. 

“I know.” He rubs your back. You’ve never had to ask him to do it, he just grabs you up and sets about soothing an ache you don’t have. He’s always been like this. 

“I can’t believe I had to sweet talk my six year old into eating fast food,” you say, watching Beth over the curve of his shoulder. She swallows a spoonful of ice cream and crinkles her eyes at the cold. “I never could’ve imagined this.”

“Thank god. You never would’ve let me date you if you did.”

You laugh and angle your head up for a kiss. “That’s not true,” you murmur. 

He kisses you but seems more eager for a hug, hooking his arm higher up behind your back and cuddling you into his neck. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do,” he confesses, “but if you keep being that gentle? She’s going to be fine.” 

You brim with a weird pride. Steve knows intimately the kind of parent that you are, and how hard you try, so if he thinks you’re doing a good job, you must be. “Dinner was great,” you promise. 

Steve laughs. “I know. It was fucking bomb. Honey roasted broccoli? These kids don’t get how good I am. I could go pro.” 

Dove wanders over with clumsy footsteps but better pronunciation. “Smoothie, daddy,” she says, holding his pink smoothie up to him with an urgent look. 

“Oh, thank you.” He pats your arm and breaks away to bend down. “Thank you, gorgeous,” he says, taking the drink and smiling huge at her. She says something in garbled kid talk and leans in to give him a hug, and then she runs back to her ice cream. 

Steve looks at you adoringly. 

“How’d you give me four perfect girls?” he asks, knowing he’s cheesy, his smile turning teasing. 

“A lot of hard work.” 

“I can tell.” 

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 17]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

“No.” 

Minnie plants her little feet firmly on the sidewalk and pulls her hands out of your and Matt’s grips so she can make her point by crossing her arms over her chest. A pout starts forming on her face and you have the feeling this is as far as your daughter will be going.

Across the street looms Clinton Church and you can understand why your daughter does not want to go anywhere near it. The building is as imposing as it is grand with its traditional architecture half shadowed in the morning sun. There is light reflecting off the many windows, casting little glares that you are sure Minnie can interpret in multiple ways - including eyes looking down at her. 

Try as you might, you can’t imagine what else your little one must be picking up from the building. Is there someone praying inside? Or chanting? What sort of terrifying noises is the building making? How many rats are scurrying around the grounds, hissing and eeking and becoming unseen monsters? 

How many real monsters are there? 

Right now, the only monster you know of is the one in your chest named Anxiety. It is roaring inside you and causing all sorts of ruckus. 

You know Minnie can pick up on your upset, and it is probably influencing her, but no amount of breathing exercises or chamomile tea is going to relax you. 

Meeting someone’s parents is always going to be nerve wracking under any circumstance - but meeting the mother of the man who fathered your child? Who already has a unique and slightly estranged relationship with her son?

Frankly, you’d rather give birth again. 

To make matters worse for your over analyzing, Matt's mother is a nun. 

You have never interacted with a nun before, and your mind has been nonstop screaming that you are going to make an absolute fool of yourself. You are convinced you are going to say something dumb - like Jesus is stupid or some other blasphemous thing. 

You don't even know what counts as blasphemy, but you know your mouth will find a way to make you want to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

You are on the same page as Minnie and don't want to take another step toward the Church. 

“No?” Matt questions, tilting his head down towards his daughter. He looks a bit baffled, like he can’t understand why she’s taken such a stance. You know he is nervous about the meeting as well, having told you such earlier, but you don’t think he realizes how much his nerves, on top of your own, are affecting Mouse and her fear of the new big building.

“No.” Your daughter repeats, giving a tiny stomp of one foot to emphasize her point. 

“No, what, sweetheart?” He kneels down to be on the same level as her, but you have a feeling that isn't going to help much. Minnie has made her decision and trying to sway a determined, upset toddler is a near impossible task.

“I don't wanna,” she tells him, her voice starting to get whiny. She turns away from him to press herself into your leg, her pout growing even bigger.

Matt knits his brows together, confusion clear, “You don't want to go to the park?”

Technically, you are supposed to meet Matt's mother in the Church park that is between the main building and the orphanage but as far as you are concerned, all of the grounds are Church. Apparently, your daughter feels the same. 

“No. I don't wanna,” she declares, which quickly turns into the chant of, “I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna!”

You can feel the tantrum coming and intervene, scooping Minnie up and hugging her to you. She instantly clings to you, burying her face against your neck with an additional almost screech of, “I don't wanna!”

You start to gently rock her from side to side and rub at her back to try and soothe her. You kiss her hair and promise, “We don’t have to go, baby. It is okay.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like a grade A asshole. 

Matt’s face crumbles into heartbreak and you totally deserve to walk into traffic. He had opened up to you about his mother - about how she had left him as a baby only to end up raising him after his father had been killed - but not telling him who she was. He told you how he only recently learned the truth - less than a year ago - and how hard it was for him. 

But now he had you and Minnie and maybe, just maybe, you could all learn to be a family together.

Anxiety overdrive kicks in and a potential solution tumbles out of your mouth, “What if we go somewhere else instead? Somewhere we’ve been before?”

Matt lifts his head up at you, so you see yourself in his glasses, and for a second you think he's going to argue - insist you go to the Church playground - but then he tilts it towards where you don't want to go. You don't know what he is listening for, but after a moment, he stands again. He steps closer, a hand going to sit on your waist and trapping Minnie between the two of you. She stays nestled against you, little fist tight on your shirt, but you find yourself breathing a little easier at his touch.

“Would the office be okay? Foggy is out meeting clients and Karen is at the Bulletin today, it will just be us.” He offers quietly. Relief washes through you at the suggestion - you think the office would be a much easier meeting place.

But it is not your decision to make. You gently bounce Mouse to get her attention and ask, “Do you want to go to Daddy’s work?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her twist your shirt in her hands. You can tell she is thinking over her answer, so you wait, trying to focus on your daughter instead on how firm Matt’s hand is on your waist. It takes about twenty seconds, but Minnie finally nods into your shoulder. 

“Okay, We’ll go to Daddy's work.”

To reward her for being so brave, you press a kiss to your daughter’s hair and Matt quickly mimics you. Minnie clings tighter to you at the affection and you think she is going to remain tense and upset until you are far away from the Church.

“Okay. Wait here, I'll go tell Sister Maggie about the change in plans,” Matt tells you and you wonder if it is really okay with him. 

You know you and Minnie meeting her is important to Matt, but is the location important as well or is it just convenient? You are too wound up to ask and fearing you won't like the answer, you keep your mouth shut and focus on rocking Mouse.

Matt gives Minnie another kiss as he tightens his grip on you just slightly. It isn’t painful, but you get the impression he does not want to let go. You want to lean into the touch, your overactive mind telling you it might be nice if he never let you go, but before you can process those feelings, he is pulling away and crossing the street.

You step to the side, so you don’t impede foot traffic, and watch as he navigates past the cars and disappears around the side of the large building. Once he is out of sight, you look down to your daughter.

You want to ask her why she doesn’t want to go to the park at the Church, so you can better understand how she sees the world, but you also don’t want to put too much pressure on her. She’s already clearly upset, and you think trying to get her to answer your questions will just make things worse. 

So, you focus on making things better for her.

“Would you like your headphones, Minnie?”

That gets her to lift her head up to look at you, squinting like she’s trying to determine if this is some sort of trap. Eventually she gives you one curt nod before hiding her face again.

You are a pro at being able to maneuver to get into your purse while carrying a toddler and soon enough you are handing over neon blue headphones. She needs no help in unfolding them and situating them over her ears, and once they are on, she snuggles herself back into your arms. You have no issues or complaints with the action - you simply begin to rock her again and hope this mood subsides once you are at Matt’s office. 

You think about ways to get Minnie to interact with Matt’s mother as you wait for Matt to reappear. You think this might be the perfect time for parallel play - you’ve got a few coloring books stuffed in your purse, along with some small toys. You think it may be best to let her do her own thing while the adults talk, and that she comes over when she’s ready. 

You hope that Sister Maggie understands that would be ideal - you know she helps to raise children, so she must understand that some kids are shyer than others. Pushing Minnie to interact when she’s fussy will only result in tears. 

Possibly your own.

A few more minutes pass before Matt returns to the sidewalk followed by who you assume to be his mother. She's dressed in a gray and blue smock dress and matching habit, which is far less intimidating than the all black look you were expecting. She has an air of authority about her, holding herself tall as she walks, and you have the feeling she is a no-nonsense person.

You pray to a God you don’t really believe in that this meeting goes better than you fear it will. 

You move to meet the pair as they cross the street to you and offer what you hope to be a warm smile. The smile, though not as overtly friendly as yours, is returned and Matt does the honor of introducing you. You adjust your hold on your daughter so you can shake the woman's hand. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew has told me wonderful things about you,” Sister Maggie says before directing her attention to her granddaughter. “And who might this little one be?”

To no surprise to you, Minnie attempts to burrow into you more at the question, smushing her face hard into your neck. You rub her back, trying to let her know everything is okay.

“This is Minnie, she's a little shy right now.”

Sister Maggie gives a knowing nod, “New places can be intimidating.” She drops her voice just slightly, in what you guess is an attempt to be comforting, and addresses Minnie, “Did your father tell you this is where he grew up?”

He did - you and Matt explained the outing to your daughter, but you don’t know how much she understood. You do know no amount of sweet talk will change her mind, even if it is about her new favorite subject - her Daddy. 

“I don't wanna go,” Mouse mumbles against you defiantly. You aren't sure if Sister Maggie can hear her, but you know Matt can. He steps forward, once again boxing in Minnie between the two of you and leans down to kiss the back of her head.

“We're not going there, princess. We're going to Daddy's office, remember? You've been there before,” he whispers into her hair. She shifts around in your arms a bit before giving another nod. You can feel her jutting out her bottom lip against your neck and part of you thinks you should call this all off and reschedule - but you aren’t going to do that to Matt.

Sister Maggie is watching your little family’s interaction, and you can’t bear to look in her direction to see what her reaction is, if she has one. Your anxiety has only prepared you for the worst.

“Perhaps we should start heading that way instead of saying where we are not going,” the nun advises after a moment and instinct and rational has you agreeing with her.

“I think that would be best.”

Matt pulls away from you and Minnie and you watch with downcast eyes as Sister Maggie offers her son her arm. He seems hesitant to take it, but he does, and your little group starts moving away from the Church and towards Nelson, Page, and Murdock.

The walk is quiet and you use the time to try and desperately calm your nerves, if only for the sake of your daughter. 

You think about Matt and what kind of person he is - he is full of love and care. He got those traits somewhere, and whether you argue Nature or Nurture, Sister Maggie has certainly influenced that. Did she encourage his Goodness? She must have had some sort of positive influence if he is not only wanting her to be in his life, but his daughter’s life, as well. 

You know some people believe family comes before anything, even if they treat you horribly, but you also know that if Sister Maggie was not a Good person, Matt would not allow her near Minnie.

He wouldn’t risk losing his relationship with his daughter. 

That is something you have no doubts about. 

As you arrive at Matt’s office building, Minnie lifts her head up off your shoulder. She wrinkles up her nose like she’s thinking hard before pointing to the plaque that state’s the firm’s name. You give her a warm smile, proud of her for recognizing it, but that only makes her squirrel away again.

This is the behavior you are used to seeing from your daughter in public - overly shy and not wanting to interact. You aren’t sure if the nerves and uncomfortableness from the church still linger, but you hope that once you are upstairs, she will start warming up a little. You won’t push her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but for Matt’s sake, you would like her to at least try talking to her grandmother.

Matt leads you all into the building and up the stairs. Sister Maggie runs a finger over the banister as you climb the stairs, giving a pleased hum, “Franklin did an amazing job cleaning this place up. Tell me that nose of yours helped in getting rid of all the mold.”

Matt huffs at the comment, “The property manager hired someone to come do that.”

“And did they get it all?” 

Matt’s mouth presses into a thin line and you already know the answer. 

“No, we spent a weekend getting the rest of it.” 

You stop in front of the Nelson, Page, and Murdock office, and as Matt fishes out the key, you look up and down the hallway, mulling over what is implied.

“You cleaned the whole building?” 

“Oh no, we couldn’t get permission from the other businesses to do that, but we did what we could to the public space and our offices. People feel comfortable here now.”

The door is opened and as you all file in, Matt suggests hanging out in the conference room. It has a nice window and plenty of space to sprawl out, so you have no objections. 

You set Minnie down as Sister Maggie and Matt head into the other room. She instantly clings to your leg, practically hiding behind it. You pet her hair a few times before pulling her away just enough so you can kneel down to talk with her. As soon as you are at her level, she is trying to get into your arms again. 

You let her hug onto you as you let her know what is going on, “Hey Mouse, do you remember earlier when I told you we were going to meet Daddy’s Mommy?” She nods but says nothing, so you continue on. “That is her. She wants to talk to me and Daddy and you and get to know us so she can be part of our family, too. But you don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, okay? I have your coloring books and you can color while we talk.”

That gets her to pull back just a hair and peek up at you with big brown eyes, “What are you gonna talk abouts?” 

You smile at the question and gently run your hands over her back, “All sorts of things, but we’re going to end up talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. If you don’t want us to talk about you, you can tell me, okay? We’ll talk about something else.”

“But I don’ gotta talk?” 

You nod, and let your bag fall off your shoulder. Minnie’s new zoo themed coloring book and crayons are easy to pull out and you offer them to your daughter. She lets go of you to greedily take her toys and hug them to her chest.

“You don’t need to talk,” you confirm. “Do you want to sit at the table, or do you want to sit on the floor?” 

Minnie considers the question, and you take advantage of no longer being hugged onto to stand up. Your little one peeks towards the conference room, then back up to you, and declares, “I wanna sit on Daddy’s lap.” 

You feel so much pride over your daughter making such a bold decision. 

“Okay, let’s go ask Daddy if you can sit in his lap.” You know Matt would never deny her, but you do want to drill in making sure Minnie asks permission first.

She waits for you to lead the way before following you into the conference room. Matt and Sister Maggie are sitting opposite each other, and Matt has already scooted his chair out and is holding his hands out to help Minnie into his lap. 

“Daddy!” 

She hurries to him and gets scooped up and crushed into a hug. She hugs back best she can while holding her coloring book.

You take the chair beside Matt and finally allow yourself to look at the nun across from you. She’s watching Matt and Minnie with an almost unreadable expression, but there is something soft behind her eyes - like she’s been keeping it repressed for years. 

But then she catches you looking, and the softness is gone, replaced by that All-Knowing Nun look you’ve seen in movies before. 

“How old is she?” Sister Maggie asks, and you can’t help but flush at her directness.

“Almost four, her birthday is on the 28th,” you reply, forcing yourself to not completely avert your gaze and hideaway. 

She raises her brows before turning her sharp gaze to Matt, accusing him with, “You did not mention her birthday was coming up.”

He has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “There were a few other things to cover, first.” 

The older woman shakes her head, “Priorities, Matthew. I may be new to being a grandmother, but you know well I have raised plenty of children and we have never skimped on birthdays. We may not always have the money to spoil someone, but we do well to make sure they know they are loved.” She looks back to you, “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Oh, um, the zoo. We’re going to go to the zoo,” you tell her.

Beside you, Minnie has slipped down into Matt’s lap, so she is sitting. She has started to flip through her coloring book, examining each picture before making her decision about what to color. At the mention of the zoo, she quietly mimics you, “Going to the zoo.”

Matt breaks into a smile at the words, looking proud as can be that Minnie spoke around his mother. He wraps his arms around her middle and you have the feeling he wants to crush her to his chest again but is resisting. 

Sister Maggie seems to know Minnie isn’t speaking to her, but just in general, and keeps the conversation to you, “That sounds like a lovely birthday. Zoo trips are always a delight with the kids.” She tilts her head slightly to the left before continuing on, “Matthew said you do not have a support network.”

“That isn’t what I said!” Matt quickly says, before turning his head towards you, “That isn’t what I said.”

Sister Maggie scoffs, “It is what you meant, and it is not a bad thing. You more than anyone know what it means to have a support network. Now,” she says your name gently and offers you a somewhat kind smile, “You are welcome to come to the Church and use any of the services we offer, and you may come by anytime you need, day or night. We will always have our doors open for you.”

You stare across the table as you process the words she has said. Shame and embarrassment course through you at the idea of Matt talking about you. You know you’ve never really had anyone to turn to, but the thought of others discussing such matters makes you want to crawl into a hole and cry. Yet, on the other hand, the mere offer of being welcomed at the Church has you spiraling in all sorts of good and overwhelming ways. 

But of course, instead of being thankful, the words that tumble out of your mouth are, “I’m not religious.” 

“That changes nothing,” she says simply and somehow, sits up straighter, “I have been given a second chance to know my son and through this a blessing of a granddaughter. I will not run from these responsibilities again and -”

“Daddy,” Minnie suddenly says, cutting Sister Maggie off while pouring all her crayons out on the table, “Pick a color!” 

Matt’s cheeks turn pink at the interruption, and you try to not slide down in your seat. You know you can’t expect your daughter to sit there quietly, even if she’s being a little fussy, especially if Matt is around. She’s a toddler. 

Matt clears his throat and asks, “What colors are there, sweetheart?”

“There’s green, and blue, and purple, and red, and orange, and yellow,” she lists off, holding up each crayon as she does.

“Let’s go with red.”

“Okay!” Minnie picks up the chosen crayon and begins to carefully start coloring in a gorilla. 

Since she spoke up on her own, you try to engage with your daughter to bring her out of her shell, “Can you tell Daddy what animal you’re coloring?”

You expect her to answer happily - after all she loves explaining things to Matt and she’s been learning all her zoo animals.

So of course, she does not do that. She whips her head around to look at you, and with the sternest little voice you have ever heard, barks out, “I don’t gotta talk!”

Your first instinct is to laugh at the outburst, but you bite down on your lip to control yourself. The urge passes quickly, and you decide you should praise your daughter for setting her boundaries, “That is right, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

She narrows her eyes at you for a moment, clearly judging you, before turning back to her artwork. 

Only then do you allow yourself a chuckle. 

To your surprise, Sister Maggie laughs as well. “Well, she is certainly a Murdock.”

That gets your attention and you and Matt both let out a curious, “Oh?”

“That little glare was all Murdock. I have seen it so many times from Matthew, who got it from his father,” she says and there is almost a fondness in her voice. “I expect the hands on the hips pose is genetic as well.”

Your eyes go wide at that. Matt’s father has never been brought up in depth before - you read the news article about his death in an online archive, and he was almost brushed over when Matt told you about his mother. You assumed, like your own parents, it was a sensitive topic. 

“I..didn’t know that,” Matt starts slowly, and you can practically feel the emotion bubbling inside him. Without considering it, you reach across the small gap between your chairs and take his hand, squeezing it. He instantly squeezes back. “I don’t remember him ever doing that.”

“I suspect he tried to not let his frustrations show around you, but it is something I remember clear as day - Jack with his hands on his hips, glaring at the refrigerator because it dared to lose power during a blackout,” Sister Maggie tell him, before she motions to her eyes, “They may not be the same color, but that look is the identical.”

The room goes quiet, save the noise of Minnie scribbling. You keep your hand around Matt’s, trying to communicate you are there for him in his love language. He starts to roll his bottom lip between his teeth, and you wait for him to react before you do. 

“You…,” Matt starts after a few more moments, voice almost warbling, “don’t talk about him. You don’t talk about him like that - what he was like.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never had reason to,” Sister Maggie says. She places her hands on the table in front of her, clasping them together, and she looks like she is about to give an interview. “But that has changed, clearly.” She looks from Matt to you, “Matthew said you were looking for family history. I do not have much from Jack’s side, but I can tell you what I do know, and I keep my own meticulous records. I believe reviewing these things, medical and non-medical, together, will…help us heal.”

You look to for his reaction. His mouth is parted, and he looks like he is going through his own emotional rollercoaster. You know how important family is to him and how dear this information must be to him, so you make a decision.

You lace your fingers with his and smile at Sister Maggie and ask, “How did you meet Jack?”

“Ah, yes, now that is a colorful story…” 

a/n: maggie is v hard to write

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader

[harunayuuka2060]

*Ten years have passed since MC arrived in the Devildom*

Mammon: Oi, MC! Are you done with your homework? Lucifer will get mad at ya' if you didn't do any of it.

MC: Mammon... I need help with Math.

Mammon: Huh? Ya' strugglin' with it? Let me see.

MC: *hands him their Math homework*

Mammon: Yo, this one is easy. Aren't ya listenin' in class?

Mammon: You're lucky you have a genius like me.

Levi: *walks by* That's the only time you're useful.

Mammon: Hey! What did ya say just now, huh, Levi?! Grr! *gives MC's homework back*

MC: Thank you, Mammon! *hugs him*

Mammon: Yeah, yeah. Don't get close to other demons, okay?

Mammon: Stay vigilant.

MC: *nods*

Lucifer: MC? Are you ready?

MC: Hm. But Luci? I thought Tantan would take me to RAD today?

Lucifer: No. I'm not busy so I will take you there as usual.

Lucifer: Unless you don't want to spend time with me? *sad frowns*

MC: Of course not! I always enjoy your company, Luci. *smiles innocently*

Mammon: Oi! Oi! Cut it out! *pulling MC to hug* I'm your best brother here and not Lucifer!

Lucifer: Mammon, it seems you're forgetting that I'm their adoptive father.

Mammon: ...

Mammon: *hugs MC tighter* So is Lord Diavolo, but why are ya not living together?

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Mammooon...

Mammon: Eek!

MC: I'm going to be late to school.

Lucifer: Right. Let's go now, MC. And Mammon, you're dead to me later.

Mammon: Ugh...

Lucifer: Always call me if anything happens.

MC: *nods*

Lucifer: Or if you cannot reach me, you can ask Diavolo or Barbatos.

MC: But are they not extremely busy?

Lucifer: We will always make time for you. *kisses their forehead*

MC: *smiles*

MC: Take care, Luci.

Lucifer: *smiles back* You too. *then takes his leave*

MC: ...

Mephistopheles: MC, there you are.

MC: *turns around to face Mephisto* Good morning. *smiles*

Mephistopheles: Good morning. Are you going to class now? Let me accompany you.

MC: Haha, thank you.

Mephistopheles: What's funny?

MC: I just recalled how you shooed me away on our first meeting.

Mephistopheles: That's because you looked like a certain someone.

Mephistopheles: You gave me the creeps that day.

Mephistopheles: *mutters* I thought Lord Diavolo made a clone of them again.

MC: ???

Mephistopheles: Nothing. I'll be subbing for your first period. Make sure you can answer my questions later.

MC: Won't you just tell me the answers?

Mephistopheles: What's the point of studying then? And I'm your teacher. At least be respectful.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* You don't look like a teacher, Mephisto.

Mephisto: You-

Diavolo: Look at this, Barbatos! *chuckles* My baby got a perfect score on their quizzes!

Barbatos: Yes, my lord.

MC: *smiling, but feeling a bit embarrassed*

Diavolo: I should frame these and hang them on the wall.

MC: Barb, please stop him.

Barbatos: Unfortunately, it won't be possible.

MC: *is on their way to Majolish*

MC: I wonder what Asmo is up to.

Luke: On your own again?

MC: Luke?

Luke: *walks up to them* How many times do I need to warn you?

MC: *smiles* You've been doing so in the last ten years.

Luke: Where are you headed?

MC: I'll be meeting Asmo. You have nothing to worry about.

Luke: ...

Luke: Let me put a protective spell on you just to be safe.

MC: ...

MC: Luke, thank you for always looking out for me.

Luke: I'm only doing this because I can't trust those demons.

MC: ...

MC: Is there really no way for you to-

Luke: No.

MC: ...

Luke: I'm done. Always take care of yourself, MC. *then walks away*

MC: ...

Asmo: What do you think, Lucifer~? MC looks good in their clothes, right~? Meticulously selected by Yours Truly~.

The brothers: It's ugly.

Asmo: What?!

Lucifer: Can you NOT make them wear anything revealing, Asmo?

Asmo: Huh?! They're basically covered except for their shoulders!

Belphie: Still revealing.

Satan: I agree. MC, next time Asmo asks you to wear something, decline him immediately.

Asmo: Hmph!

MC: Haha...

Simeon: Where have you been, Luke?

Luke: I came to check on the human.

Simeon: Are they doing fine?

Luke: Fortunately, yes.

Simeon: *smiles* It's been ten years. And the brothers are taking care of them well.

Luke: *looks displeased* Are you trying to imply something, Simeon?

Simeon: ...

Simeon: You haven't still let your guard down...

Luke: ...

Luke: Has Michael sent another letter asking us to return?

Simeon: Yes. Will you be answering it this time?

Luke: ...Yes. But I want him to send someone before we go back to the Celestial Realm.

Simeon: Who's on your mind?

Luke: Gabriel.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Yes. He's a good choice.

Michael: Let me borrow your identity for a while, Gabriel.

Gabriel: You would still do it even if I don't let you.

Michael: *smiles* I appreciate your cooperation.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me brothers #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me mephistopheles #obey me michael #obey me gabriel

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for —(and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: eek not a request but an idea that wouldn't leave me alone! thus... we embark on a mulan-esque story that i hope u will enjoy <3 big thank you's to @strangerstilinski who listened and helped immensely as i whittled a hunky idea down to a plot

word count: 2.9k

synopsis: Someone in the Illryians Mountains has been making a name for themselves— a bastard like Azriel and his brothers, ruffling the feathers of a war camp's Lords. But they seem to have no loyalty to the fighting legion, or much to anyone for that matter. fem!reader

— CHAPTER ONE :: STRANGERS

Frost was everywhere.

Despite all the eerie memories that tainted them, the Illyrian Mountains were hauntingly beautiful, even Azriel could admit that.

Pine trees stretched up tall, their timber trunks hidden beneath the snow-leaden branches. It was a sea of swirling frost. Snowflakes eddied down from the frozen sky, a soft blanket of white draped across the landscape.

He was sure that some, maybe the likes of Feyre and her artist's eye, could see that beauty easier than he could.

Beautiful, Azriel thought bitterly, but fucking freezing.

Normally, dealing with the likes of the war camps that riddled these mountains was left to Cassian. He had that raucous, fiery way about him that was far better suited to it. Enough pride to challenge the warriors and more than enough eager attitude to back his taunts if need be.

But Cassian was currently very much occupied— and highly unsuited to crack the whip against some rowdy Illyrians in his current state.

Azriel couldn't help the smile at the thought of when he'd last seen his brother.

Freshly mated Cassian looked as though he had tiny hearts circling around his head at all times. He resembled a puppy following his nose, always that wicked grin on his face as he trailed after Nesta. His adoration was impossible to miss.

Cassian had more than earned the time off. He deserved to celebrate properly, to have a couple weeks with no badgering worries, with no bickering Illyrian warriors to deal with (beyond his usual two).

So, as a mating gift to his brother —and partially to escape a house filled with intolerably mated couples— Azriel had taken over his duty temporarily. To oversee the war camps he detested so much.

Today, he was to investigate the rumoured stirrings amongst the camps and assess the level of threat it posed. More often than not, these sorts of stirrings were simply whispers of rebellion but nothing more.

There was an easy fix; a visit from one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history, or even from Rhys himself. It always made the Illyrians a little nervous and those whispers of a coup would sweep away with the wind in a matter of time.

This time, however, the network of spies that operated under Azriel had not come back spinning such rumours.

Instead, there was talk of Lords with ruffled feathers. Lords with bruised egos due to a single bastard warrior, rising in the ranks and not playing by the rules.

The familiarity of the situation was almost too ironic, Azriel thought. He had half a mind to tell Rhys what he had learned and leave them to it. Cauldron knew these brutal camps needed a bastard to challenge their ways from time to time.

But still, there was always the potential for such a warrior to pose a threat in the future. Azriel could not leave a possible danger to brew. No stone left unturned.

The snow beneath his boots was beginning to melt.

He had been standing in the cold and peering up at the war camp ahead, barely seen through the heavy snow falling, for too long now. Snow was gathering on his wings, tendrils of ice shooting through their sensitive membrane. Find the bastard.

Shaking off the snow, he began to walk.

—

Gods forsaken males and their egos.

The bone in your forearm ached, having taken the brunt of your initial fall in the mud. It's covered in it too, the muck of the ground that always seemed to linger. Always a layer of dirt beneath your fingernails. Truly, one of the many incredible appeals of the Illyrian mountains was never actually being clean.

You'd probably hate it more— if it didn't do such a good job of masking unwanted scents.

But right now with a jagged cut that tears up your left arm, all the way to the elbow, you're cursing the mud. It's likely festering with uncountable grim diseases. You'll have to flush the wound to properly clean it before it begins to heal.

That means water. That means energy that you don't particularly feel like summoning to fetch it. You cast your glance to the window.

Outside, the Mother's Kiss howls loudly.

The southerly chilled wind current that Illyrians don such a precious name is quite fitting for their backward ways — to expect a kiss from your mother to have such a sting on the face.

Tonight, the current seems particularly fierce. The windows of your shelter rattle in warning. A storm had blown through camp rather unexpectedly and you'd caught the worst of it, tangled up in a snarling fest against Brudam.

Brudam, who is responsible for the current state of your arm. Your lip curls at the mere thought of the arrogant male. Your wings bunch up tightly and you huff quietly to nobody.

He'd caught wind of the broth you had made that had filled the stomach of three ravenous bastards in the camp. It had been just enough to keep them on their feet. Tonight, you know that one hot meal might very well be the difference that helps them survive the night.

But Illyrians are a tough breed— and they don't take kindly to people giving handouts, as Brudam had put it.

You preferred the term leveling the playing field.

As if Brudam and his Lord father had ever experienced to ache of starvation. Ever had to sleep in the snow with nothing but their own wings for warmth against a blizzard.

Another deep pain twinges in your arm and you hiss, drawn out of your thoughts. If you have to pick your wins, you can at least admit you're glad he had only found out about the broth— and had seemed none the wiser to the healing tonics you were slipping the freshly-clipped girls.

It ached to see them and their quivering wings. The way the muscles in their backs buckled when they tried to spread their wings, a cut too deep into the wrong nerve. It ached to see it, yes, but beneath that pain was an ocean of bitter and furious fire.

But your righteous anger would not help these girls.

You were not the most proficient healer and the tonics you were attempting... it was hard to say if they would make any difference in saving any females' wings.

You were gathering knowledge as best you could though, scraping together herbs that scarcely grew in the frozen climate. It was a poor imitation of something that might work.

Whether it would be enough... that was up to the Mother. But you had to try.

You assess the wound on your arm once more, wondering about the reserve of water you had in your small hut— whether you could both clean your wound and have enough to hydrate.

Another glance out at the wintry snowscape outside. You grimaced. If you didn't, you would have to bear the blistering chill of the Mother's Kiss to get more.

Weariness weighs on your bones. You hadn't been prepared for the fight, hence your almost embarrassing injury, and it drained you more than you expected.

You stand with a sigh and drag your feet toward the tiny cauldron filled with melted snow collected earlier in the day. It hangs over the fireplace, the embers within long since snuffed out. Your motion stirs them up.

For a moment, you stare into the fireplace. The water in the cauldron shimmers. The shelter creaks around you, bending in the wind.

It's covered in soot, marred by the flames that usually lick it from beneath it. The lip of it, however, is still clean enough to see your own reflection. You peer into it.

And in that reflection, you find a tall figure with massive wings looming above their shoulders standing behind you.

Your heart spasms in shock and you have to swallow your gasp of surprise. Your eyes dart up, frantically hunting for a weapon. You grab the closest object you can, your hand closing around a kitchen fork. And before they get the chance, you twist and lunge, arm raised.

The floorboards groan as your boots slam into them, darting forward to attack. But the male dodges you easily, your strike passing through empty air.

You don't stop, turning and striking for him once again. The male sways back again easily to avoid your swing and you scowl.

Quickly feigning one way, you watch as his hands, weaponless, move to defend his gut — and you change direction, fast. Neck exposed, you snarl as you sink the fork deep into his shoulder.

The male hisses in pain.

You falter for a moment at the noise but it's a mistake. His hands move so fast you barely see them, gripping your wrist that holds the fork and twisting it down to the ground, immobilising you from using it.

You snarl again and tug against him fruitlessly. A swell of panic begins to rise within you as you tug again, again, again. His hold doesn't falter.

"Stop," The male commands you quietly.

This time when you tug, he opens his fingers and you fly back onto your ass, wings flaring out a moment too late to catch yourself.

You expect him to trudge forward, to beat an attack down on you now that you're less defended, but he doesn't move from his spot.

In fact, you realise as you stare at him, cheat heaving, he hasn't attacked you at all.

His weapons, which there are many of them, stay strapped to his side, glittering against the snow's reflected light. You spot the siphon on his hand, a churning sapphire colour — and clock the matching one on his other hand.

This was not just any Illyrian warrior in your home.

Faintly, your panic subsides as you realise that if this male meant to hurt you —to kill you— he very well could have done so by now.

You let your eyes trail up, taking in the face so hidden in shadow, and recognize that the darkness swirling around him is not ordinary shadow.

The revelation has you sitting up a bit straighter, the bindings around your chest pulling tight. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

What do you say to one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history —one who served on Rhysand's inner circle, friend of the High Lord of the Night Court— when you've just stabbed him with a fork?

As if your thought had reminded him, the male —Azriel, you know his name to be— shifts and reaches for the utensil still sticking out of his shoulder. He yanks it out without a noise of complaint.

Then he says, "Considering your choice of weapon, it's no surprise Brudam cut up your arm."

You scowl at him but at a closer look, you can see that his expression isn't condescending. No, with his raised brows, he almost looks... impressed.

"I wasn't expecting visitors." You bite back defensively.

Azriel's eyes dance with amusement. He throws the fork onto your table with a clatter. "That's how you greet visitors?"

"Uninvited ones, yes."

His amusement fades, the planes of his face shadowed and yet still handsome. Like most Illyrians, there's this incomprehensible sense of elegance to him, an alluring pull tied to his very demeanor.

But looking at him now, even in the dimness of your shelter, you could see Azriel went beyond to type of beauty that usual Illyrians had. An unparalleled grace, an unmatched Adonis.

He is the most beautiful male you had ever seen—and you had just stabbed him with a fork.

"Sorry," You mutter eventually when he doesn't say anything.

You shift onto your knees to stand, your hand coming to cup beneath your elbow— the ache of the injury had begun to bleed back in now that you weren't focused on fighting off an intruder.

"You're forgiven." He says. You can see lightly, through the dimming light, the faint blood on his neck you've caused.

"You fight well," He comments, with the air of a compliment. Something like amusement is in his eyes when he says, "Even with your unusual choice of weapon."

You glare at him as you climb to your feet and all but collapse into a chair. You don't even have another to offer to him. Buried beneath your leathers, your chest aches in pain — a reminder that it's been bound for far too long. You ignore it and tilt your chin towards him.

"Why are you here?"

You're actually sure that even if you offered Azriel a chair he wouldn't take it, given how stiffly he stands before you. He takes a moment to answer, his gaze flitting around the small room you both stand in. Calculating, categorizing.

"There were rumours of a warrior turning up trouble here."

He fixes his hazel-eyed gaze on you. You steel yourself beneath it. "A couple days in your camp and it became clear who the outlier was."

A couple days? For some reason, you can't believe that he's been surveying this place without detection from anyone. Another glance at his shadows, the dark masses that hang around his shoulders, and you can believe it a little more.

Besides, it's hardly as though the Lords would deign to tell a bastard like you anything important.

You clench your jaw but don't say anything.

"Brudam mentioned you feeding some warriors." Azriel continues, his tone unreadable. Though something, you couldn't tell what, glittered in his eyes. "Not very in the spirit of Illyrians."

You scowl at him again. Even if he had once faced these conditions before, you wondered if his time away, spent Cauldron knows where, had softened his memory.

"It's not against any law."

"No, it isn't," Azriel says. His eyes narrow. "But making healing tonics without a Healer's jurisdiction and selling them to young females is."

Your heart stops for just a moment. How could he know that? The last batch you had dropped off had been over a month ago.

Without thinking you snarl back, "I'm not selling them, you prick."

Something blooms on Azriel's face, surprise and a hint of smugness.

Your mouth snaps shut as you realise what you've done. You curse yourself. Slumping back in your chair, your wings sag with you and you let them droop onto the floor, uncaring. He could very well be here to kill you, given the knowledge of what you had just admitted.

For a long moment, there's just silence.

You stare at the floor and wonder which version of the High Lord is true; the Court of Nightmares whose power ripples through these camps and keeps them in line. Or the rumours of a softer side, a dreamer.

You wonder, more importantly, which of those this male before you is friends with.

Something in the floor creaks when Azriel finally moves. He crosses the room swiftly to the fireplace and gathers two logs from the stack of firewood beside it, tossing them onto the pile of ash.

You watch, perturbed, as he hunches over the fireplace for a quiet minute— and when he pulls back, a small flame is burning on the wood. It dances on the log, entrancing and amber-coloured.

Heat begins to fill the room. You pick your wings up and stretch them towards it, grateful for how they begin to warm. You hadn't quite realised the extent of your chill until right now.

It's such a kindness that hasn't been shown to you in many years. Surprise and silent gratitude bloom in your chest.

Azriel turns back to face you. You school your surprise away.

"What's your name?" He asks, his voice gruff.

It's been a while since anyone asked that either. Bastard. Mongrel. Imposter. There are a thousand other words that have become your name whilst growing up here.

You can't tell him your name. In the same way you can't tell anyone here your real name without revealing too much about yourself.

So you shorten it and tell him that instead.

Azriel nods. Doesn't repeat it, doesn't blink at your hesitance. Instead, he just says, "Like I said, you fight well. You could be better though."

You frown at the backhanded compliment, something in you sneering at the jab at your fighting skills. Worse, you know he's right.

If you had weapons suited to your size, exercises that focused on your agility more than your brute strength... There's a good reason you have to work twice as hard as every other warrior in camp.

Azriel looks at your arm, no longer bleeding and beginning to stitch itself up. Shit, you really need to clean that first.

"Clean that and get a good night's rest." He orders, not meanly. Then he crosses the space of your shelter in a few paces of his long legs, heading for the door.

"You—" The question dares to come out of you. "You're not going to turn me in?"

Azriel pauses, one hand, one scarred hand you can now see with the fire going, on the door. So, the rumours of that were true.

"No," He says lowly. He sees you staring, and as if on command, the shadows swirling around his shoulders dart down to cover his hands. They and the doorknob in his hand disappear from sight completely.

You evade your eyes back up to his hauntingly beautiful face. His expression is stony, unreadable. He stares at you for a long moment, the dancing fire reflected in his hazel eyes.

"I'm going to train you."

[next part]

#ahhhh!!! i'm very excited for this one!! #pray i can do it justice !! #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel fic