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morallyinept · 3 months

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Helianthus - An Ezra One Shot 🌻

Summary: Ezra and you have docked on a planet that harbours a pleasant surprise for you both.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 3.4k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/kissing/reader is in the very early stages of pregnancy/mostly soft mush with some Ezra spiciness

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Ezra and sunflowers - what more could you want? 🌻

MAIN MASTERLIST | EZRA MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

In the hazy realm between wakefulness and dreams, where misty clouds encircle an electrifying peach glow, breathy snuffling tugs gently on the strings of your consciousness.

The lightest sensation of touch - a soft nuzzling against your cheek - pulls you back from the brink of satiated sleep and into the warmth of him.

It’s a gradual awakening, the back of your eyelids swathed in sunlight from a wayward beam in the hatch spotlighting over your face. The slow unfurling of a tight bud at the break of dawn, you emerge from a gossamer veiled cocoon of unconsciousness to the feel of his large, pore-filled nose gliding planes over your jaw.

Flutters of his dark, fanned lashes are felt as he forges a path up to your forehead before placing a tender kiss on it with soft, cracked lips, making you smile.

You feel his hand, warm and rough, sliding delicately up your arm. Fingers stroking the skin back and forth over your shoulder with blunt nails. Eliciting warm tingles; the fine hairs standing tall powered by need and a pulling want that pools in your belly.

His lips trace under your jaw, a wet tongue slithering out tasting the skin there, ripe and fruitful. When he reaches your bare nipple, the sheet sliding down your body with his movement, you can’t contain the contented, sleepy moans vibrating on your lips as he sucks it into a hardened pebble around his insidious wet tongue.

“Awake?” He murmurs, kissing over the swell of your breast, plump in his hand.

As you slowly blink your eyes open, the warm, intense browns meet you with a tender intensity. A crooked grin, a flash of yellowed enamel and the cracking of skin over his pink grin greet you - marred, hawkish features that are all his own and yours to savour.

Your voice barely whispers, "I was hoping to steal a few more moments of sleep. How rude."

With a gentle chuckle heavy in his throat, he drags his lips up the juncture of your neck. “Alluding to the pretence of your slumbersome charade. Your smile gives you away every time, Birdie.”

“And here I thought I was being subtle this time.” You sigh as he cages you under him, teeth perniciously tugging at your nipple again.

“Subtlety has no place between us,” he says as he sucks it gently back in the warmth of his mouth.

You hum out as he suckles, thick fingers tracing patterns on your cheek, thumb gliding over your lips. You taste the salt and soil in the whorls of his print, nipping on the pad.

A tidal wave of warm breath bathes your face as he grunts into it, eventually finding your lips. His tongue seeks your own to exploit. Your hands engulf him close, a red giant swallowing him whole.

“Ezra…” You whine, your legs wrapping around his paunchy waist, and you realise a rough layer keeps you from him. “Your suit is on.”

“It is indeed.” He murmurs haughtily into your skin, teeth grazing.

“Take it off.” You sway.

His tongue licking tracks makes you whimper. He looks up at you and shakes his head of greased, mussed waves stuck against his forehead. “I have meticulous plans that you won’t scupper.”

“And if I refuse?” You pout, wrapping your legs around him tighter.

He groans as you rake your nails at the back of his skull in the slick oil of his hair. A move that you know will wilt him into subjugation.

“Do you know what you do to me, foul temptress?” He growls as he snatches at your hand managing to only capture one with his singular mitt. He nips on your fingers and you hiss.

“I can feel it.” You muse. You reach for his turgidity with your other, trying to get inside his suit, but he soon stops you.

“You’re insatiable,” he hums, licking his bottom lip. He then bites into the flesh at your neck, faint purple violets bloom on your skin from the marks of his teeth. “You’ve slept all day. I’d like to show you something before it gets dark. Put your suit on.”

You whine, a noise akin to a strangled squawk. He watches you reluctantly shuffle into your suit, chewing on his lip and humming as his beady eyes trawl up and down your body.

“Saturation?” You query as he reaches for the latch on the inside door without hesitation, or a helmet.

“No need. The air, while thick, is plenty breathable.”

“How do you know?” You baulk.

“This isn’t my first foray." He remarks with waggled eyebrows. "Took to scouring the landscape with thorough reconnaissance of our environs in search of any auspicious indicators of coveted resources. The discovery of a hidden cache would be a boon to our expedition.”

You shake your head at his length of explanation. “And did you find anything?”

“Something.” A conspirator of delight, Ezra guides you from the lander pod with a playful gleam in his dark eyes.

“Where are we going?” You query.

“A little way up there.” He points with his only hand to the beacon of lumpy hills in the near distance.

The planet is green, lush and reminds you of a home you once knew. Breathable air, blue skies and dappling bokeh sunlight. It’s been a while since you both stumbled on an Eden to rest your weary bones and crooked backs.

“Bit of a trek.” You mumble, relishing the chance to have stayed in the cot, warm and snug in some lucid dream long since forgotten.

“Merely a twilight hike.” The fervour of exploration imbues him with an indomitable vigour, a grin flashing at you over his shoulder that’s as infectious as it is alluring.

As you near the summit, the sun streaking fire in the sky as it sets, he stands waiting for you to catch up; his hand reaching for yours as you approach with creaking knees and rasping breaths.

“Kevva, that’s steep.” You puff.

“Lying horizontal all day will render your fitness lacklustre,” he mocks.

“My lack of fitness is all your fault.” You remark with a wry grin.

“I don’t recall nearly this much complaining at the time.” He wraps his arm over your shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

“Ezra.”

“Indulge me, pet. Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks and you feel him prod you some paces forward. His breath is felt on the conch of your ear, warm and moist when he guides you to a suitable stop.

“Open.” He purrs.

You sigh out with an immediate smile. “Oh, Ezra…”

“Resplendent, isn’t it, Birdie?”

“Did you know this was here when we docked?”

He shakes his head with pursed lips. “Happened upon them during my early ramble. I was quite taken with them.”

“They're beautiful.” You agree.

“Go on, get up close and personal.” He takes your hand in his and leads you down the hill.

The sunflowers stand tall and proud, their sturdy stalks reaching skyward like nature's sentinels. Each intricate disc of petals, a radiant burst of yellow, catches the fading sunlight, creating a mesmerising dance of shadows and highlights across the expanse of the field that seems like it stretches on for eons.

As you walk through them, the sensation under your boots is a soft, yielding carpet of grass and fallen petals and seeds. The gentle crunch of earth beneath is accompanied by the occasional release of a subtle, herbal fragrance, as if the very ground exudes the essence of sun-soaked vitality.

With each step, your fingertips brush against the velvety petals, and you can feel the delicate texture beneath your touch. The petals are soft, leaving a subtle, powdery residue on your skin.

You wander through their obliesk mazes, pushing your way through clusters with an awed mirth as he follows. You take a moment to steal a glance back at him over your shoulder and he’s stopped, looking upwards with eyes closed and breathing in.

There’s a quiet intensity about Ezra as he stands there, taking in the vast expanse of the alien, yet somewhat familiar, landscape before him. His eyes, usually so alive with energy and steely determination, now hold a depth of emotion that you’ve rarely seen - a mixture of awe, wonder, and perhaps a hint of vulnerability.

You observe the play of emotions across his face - the furrow of his heavy brow as he concentrates, the slight quirk of his lips as a sense of wonder washes over him. The intensity in his dark eyes as they capture yours.

"Well, hello there, pet," he says, his voice low and filled with affection. "Caught me admiring the view, did you?"

“We both are.” You simply say, reaching for him.

As you both wander deeper into the labyrinth of the sunflowers, you can’t help but feel a sense of whimsy taking over you. He stops to pluck seeds out, tearing open a head and offering you some as they roll around his teeth.

"They're so beautiful," you remark, your voice filled with wonder.

Ezra nods in agreement, his eyes alight with mischievous excitement. "They are indeed.”

"I feel like we're in our own little world here," you say.

He squeezes your hand gently, his touch reassuring. "That's all we need.”

As the sun sets, he invites you to recline amidst the golden blooms, your head in his lap looking up at the sky, lost in a burrow of thick stalks. The anticipation that had danced in your eyes now transforms into a quiet serenity as you lie together, surrounded by the sunflowers' nodding heads seemingly miles above you in the sky.

Your fingertips, still adorned with the powdery residue of sunflower caresses, trace idle patterns on his hand as you clutch it close.

Above, the leaves create a natural canopy, dappling the sunlight into a mosaic of dying warmth as the cobalt bleeds in.

Lying amidst the sunflowers, you become part of the landscape - a living diorama where nature itself paints the backdrop for your being. It's not just a surprise; it's a moment of shared bliss, a poetic pause in the heart of the sunflower field on a foreign planet far from anywhere you could call home.

Companionable silence joins you both for a while, a break in Ezra’s beaky ramblings, content to simply be together in the midst of such natural splendour.

You turn your gazes upward, greeted by a luminous river of stars. His eyes, now reflecting the twinkling lights overhead, find a mirrored universe in yours. The sunflowers, though no longer in focus, cast long shadows that seem to reach towards the cosmos.

His accent, reminiscent of stout Southern edification, begins to expound upon the wonders above as he points out constellations and planets that twinkle as little beams of light.

"The beauty of the universe is unequalled." You conclude dreamily, your head resting on Ezra's thighs, his thick digits weaving and stroking under your jaw.

From this position, you can see the vast depths of it, curling its fingers out to beckon you to dip your face into its secrets.

"Lies." He retorts with a little snicker. "I fear the universe has met its match." He tilts your chin so you’re facing him and those deep brown eyes regard you sincerely.

"You like to talk, Ezra." You smirk.

"I mean it " he assures. “Look at you, the stars are blushing.”

You smile, feeling your jaw ache as he strokes under it with his only thumb.

“Have you ever pondered the nocturnal inclinations of sunflowers?" He breathes out looking up at them.

"Can’t say that I have.” You smirk. "Regale me, o' skilled raconteur," you tease as he tugs on your chin.

"It's a fascinating theory I came across - a notion that in the absence of the sun, these golden blooms, like erudite companions, turn toward each other. A celestial dance, if you will, where they share their stored energy."

“A cosmic conversation among sunflowers. I never thought I'd be part of such a poetic moment." You snort with a giggle.

“Oi. Mock me all you like, woman.” Ezra nudges you with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, I do."

"It's as if the sunflowers are sharing secrets, don't you think? A botanical confabulation beneath the cosmic theatre."

“Botanical confabulation? You sure have a fascinating way with words, Ez."

"Imagine if we could decipher their floral discourse. What tales do you think they'd share?"

You sit upright. “That they do wish you'd shut up and kiss me.” You say, pulling him towards you for a deep, saturated kiss.

He sighs into you as you comb his hair back, your thumb lingering in that stark blonde piece of the moon in his hairline. Your hand grips his right shoulder, stroking down gently until it stops where he ends. You squeeze and caress the stump gently.

"You know, when you do that, I feel whole again." He breathes, nuzzling into you. "Confounding in it's whimsy."

“You’ve always been whole to me, Ezra.” Your nose traces the wiry route of the scar under his left socket.

"I won't get to feel your hand in mine." He says, casting a gaze to his stump. You’ve altered his fraying suit so his sleeve no longer flaps about, patching it tight and padding it. Some days he swears he can still wiggle his fingers.

"You have another." You say, taking his hand and kissing the pads of his digits before slowly sucking the middle into your mouth.

“Careful,” he hisses, eyes turning as black as the sky above as he watches you suck it all the back to your throat.

You smile as it pops wet out of your mouth and he pulls you close against his chest.

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if we missed the sling back… stay here a while.” You murmur as you take in the sights of the sunflowers cresting and creaking above you.

“Thirty turns until the next sling if we linger.” Ezra ponders, running the fuzz of his lips over your crown.

“Mm.” You nod. "We have the means."

"I'm concerned by your raffish approach to this contrite endeavour, however serene. Wouldn't you feel more secure in a near proximity to the birthing pools?”

“We've a while to go yet.” You reassure stroking under his chin in the wiry, greying hairs there.

He slides his swamping palm over the small swell of your belly, rubbing back and forth gently. “That’s as maybe, we can come back. Bring the Niblet when all is well.”

“Or we could settle, make it a home.” You sway.

“A find of a calibre we've not yet encountered... feasible to some end.” He grazes your jaw with his nose, lips kissing you side on as you cup his hawkish face. “You know I would give you the universe, pet.”

“I already have it.” You say, staring up at him.

“Oh, the hackneyed piss that pours outta your mouth,” he smirks as you giggle into his face.

“Now you know the trite that I have to endure that comes out of yours.”

“Hokum. You love the elucidation of my wayward charm.” Ezra sneers.

“Among other things.”

“Such as?” He smirks.

You sit upright, slowly pulling the poppers open on his suit. He doesn’t resist as you pull the zip down revealing his chest and belly. You hold yours taught so he can unzip it, revealing the naked flesh underneath it.

He leans forward, sucking mouthfuls of your sumptuous skin into his mouth, hissing as you find the dripping swell of his cock.

“So that’s what you’re getting at?” He smiles crookedly at you as you work him in your palm, rolling back the skin to reveal a ruddy bulb.

Thick and sticky, he fills your hand. Feeling the rough material of your suit pressed into the crease of your cunt as you wind your hips desperately against him, moaning with frustration keening into his mouth.

“Be careful you don’t overplay this distraction technique.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you simply smile, standing and removing your suit entirely.

“I am immune to your tactics.” Ezra assures as he lets his eyes wander freely over your body as he strokes his cock in want.

“Are you sure about that?” You mirth as you sit in his lap. He’s considerably hard as you subtly grind against him as you kiss.

“Should I aid you in your release, pet?” He taps your clit gently making you squeal. “Shall we make the sunflowers recoil in their chaste shrewdness?”

“Let them gossip and blush.” You nod into his face. Your fingers curl around his thick length, stroking as you kiss him some more.

“Mmhm. Hold it like you love it, Birdie... yeah, just like that.” He drawls at you.

“Scoundrel.” You groan.

“I am but incorrigible.” He smirks.

Your kisses are desperate, incisors and tongues, far reaching and choking. His pads swipes against your clit again and you cry out as your whole body jolts with pleasure, his fingers soaked already.

"Sweet Mother of Kevva… a parched man could never drink you dry." He sucks you from his fingers, before slipping them inside you.

You groan out, long and laboured as he strokes your spot with ease, fingers as thick as his cock as they pump and uncoil the muscles from your bones.

“Gently, does it, hmm?” He cajoles as he brings you to the brink.

“Ez… mmm,” you can feel it bunching tight, the knot unwinding as he lets you soar into the heavens above, watching in rapt attention as you shake in his lap.

He drones out as you line yourself up with him and sink down slowly. Knees in the soil and fingers in his mouth.

“Shit,” Ezra groans as you slide all the way down. Eyes paused in a mid-possession as your cunt squeezes and your back breaks.

“You seek to annihilate me, don’t you?” Ezra rasps as you rock on him, broad shoulders in your teeth as you kiss indents in them.

“Ezra, fuck!” You whine, feeling him bottom out and fuck up into you with the simple flex of his hips.

"Give me another one of your kisses, Birdie. Take me back to paradise."

The way he fucks you is like poetry in motion. His gaze unwavering, his touch never faltering. The softness soon replaced by desperateness; fingers bruising more violets into your skin as he clutches you for balance. Kisses with more bite, pants that start to howl.

“Ezra,” you whine, holding onto him. “Kevva, I’m close…”

“Let me have it,” he coaxes, turning your face to him, watching as your eyes cloud over under a sky full of iridescent stars. "Beg me to fuck you harder." Ezra hisses to you.

"Please... h-harder-" Your body convulses around the rapture of him.

"That doesn't sound like begging to me." He taunts with a sly grin. “You have my cock in you, pet. Make me fuck you with it.”

“Please! Mmm fuck, please!” You grapple at him, nails drawing blood in their grazes, his teeth bared as you pull at his greased roots. “Give me all of you, Ezra!” You growl.

“Your cunt is just full of me,” he rasps, your breath bouncing in the back of your throat with every hard thrust. His babbling eutony filling your ears like cotton as you fade out into the white noise.

Just barely hearing the clicks of your kisses and the lewd squelches of you around his cock.

He feels you burst, sees it, hears it. Dissolving him to dust in your solar flare. In that moment, you're his, wholly. And he swears to Kevva he feels something akin to unwavering love rattle through his punctured bones.

The push of you onto him with his hand makes you gasp as you grind and gyrate, your clit pressed in and rubbing against the patch of coarse hairs that you soak sticky with your slick.

“Hm, hm, hmphf…” he grunts, small and ragged as you work, nostrils flaring under the steep hook of his nose. Plush lips pressed into a thin line as he strains.

He throws his head back growling, teeth bared at the universe above, howling throatily as he spills inside of you. His thighs shake, rioting of their own accord as you watch them ripple and tense.

His eyes are squeezed shut before opening them with blown pupils and a slack jaw. They glide down to yours, mouth panting into that wolfish, crooked grin.

“Birdie, I’m still pouring… look, look what you do, exquisite creature.” He pants, sweat slick hair creasing on his forehead, that little blonde patch rip curling in its defiance.

You settle against his clammy chest when he comes to; he lays back with you in his arm as you cup and stroke the stump gently tracing the knot of scar tissue until your fingers still.

You both sleep there, under the stars, in the dirt and leaves of the sunflower stalks protecting you both in their intricate cocoons.

In the morning, when the sun rises and the sunflowers turn their heads in its direction, conversing in their unspoken language with the bright star, Ezra wakes you again with those soft, gentle nuzzles, humming the secrets of the universe inside your ear.

Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed spending time in the sunflowers with Ezra. Let me know your thoughts. And I'd appreciate a re-blog if you enjoyed what you just read so other's can enjoy this story too - thanks so much!🖤🌻

MAIN MASTERLIST | EZRA MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect #pedro pascal characters #prospect ezra #prospect film #jett's writing

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suna-cerely-yours · 2 years

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MESSY ft. atsumu, osamu, rintaro

warnings: fem!reader, 18+, mdni, threesome, oral sex (f!recieving), dubious consent, implied nonconsensual filming

a/n: no, there will not be a part 2. i don’t know what happened here.

“c’mon, we have to raise the stakes a little, you take off an article of clothing for every question you get wrong!”

“i would totally be down for that,” suna leers from a nearby couch, craning his head to look over his laptop.

“atsumu, i asked you to quiz me on this, not to play strip poker.”

“yeah atsumu, don’t be a perv.”

“shut up ‘samu, i’m lookin’ out for her grades,” atsumu turns back to you, eyes widen in faux innocence. “unless you’re that unconfident and haven’t studied, then i guess i can understand why you wouldn’ wanna.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes at his thinly veiled attempt at riling you up. too bad it was actually working.

“fine, for every question i get wrong, i’ll take off an article of clothing,” you squint at atsumu, “ happy?”

“very, doll.”

“what happens if she runs out of clothing to take off?” suna chimes in, running his eyes over your sundress clad torso. “it’s only, what? three questions? dress, bra, and underwear.”

“two actually, i’m not wearing a bra rin.”

“damn, you must be really confident,” osamu stretches his arms above his head, peering to look up at the couch you and atsumu were situated on, “ but what happens if you run out?”

“ i won’t run out, but if i hypothetically do, then i guess atsumu can decide what to do.”

you run out of clothing.

two strategically difficult questions throw you for a loop, and now you have three sets of eyes boring on you, waiting for you to remove your dress- panties already discarded.

“god rin, at least pretend to do your work,” you throw the boy an exasperated glace as he shuts his laptop and leans forward, bracing himself on his knees, eyes trained on you. even osamu puts his pen down, resting his head on his palm.

gulping, you reach for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head in one motion. you feel your nipples harden as you tuck your arm over them, trying to preserve some sense of modesty.

“well? go on, haven’t you ever seen tits before? ask the next question.”

atsumu clears his throat, and continues, his voice an octave deeper.

and immediately throws you for another loop.

"that isn't on the syllabus."

"sure is doll, look it's highlighted an' everythin'," atsumu states, putting the textbook down.

"now for your punishment-"

"hold up, what?"

"you did say atsumu could decide what to do if you run out of clothing to take off," suna chimes in again, oh so unhelpfully.

you look back at atsumu, who's looking at you with his head slightly tilted, like you were a problem he couldn't figure out.

your throat feels dry and a lick of warmth curls low in your stomach, pussy clenching as you unconsciously rub your thighs together once.

atsumu's eyes immediately zero in on that movement as a slow grin unfurls on his face, eyes lighting up.

"touch yourself."

"what? atsumu you're not-"

"touch yourself for us. let us watch you cum."

osamu and suna have their full attention on you, and you think you see suna pull out his phone.

pressing your lips together, you slowly let the hand covering your breasts drop, parting your thighs. placing a hand on your thigh, you slowly rub circles on the soft skin, exhaling as you drop your head to rest on the back of the couch.

“atsumu- i, i don’t know about this-”

“no? but your pretty pussy sure does,” he retorts, reaching over to spread your folds slightly, tapping his middle finger on your clit.

you react instantaneously, gasping as your thighs close around atsumu’s wrist, pressing his hand firmly against your core.

“don’t go all shy on us now princess,” osamu grins, gripping, spreading and situating himself in between your thighs, hooking your knees on his broad shoulders.

you feel a hand clasp around your throat, titling your head back even more, before that same hand slides up your throat, pushing two ringed fingers past your lips, forcing them to part.

“you look so cute stuffed with only two fingers, bet you’d look cuter stuffed with my cock,” suna coos from above you, other hand holding his phone.

you whine, sliding the hand on your thigh to your breast, pinching your nipple slightly.

“always knew you were a whore, babe.”

your muffled response breaks into a moan as atsumu’s fingers are replaced by osamu’s mouth, his tongue circling your clit.

suna’s fingers fuck your mouth as atsumu paws at your tits, guiding one of your hands to his bulge. you pull his cock out, doing your best to wrap your fingers around it, moaning when osamu slides a finger inside you, accompanied with his sloppy licking.

you’re close, so close, when the sudden opening of the door startles all of you, your eyes flying open as suna’s hand slides back down to your throat.

kita stares at the four of you impassively, eyebrows raised.

he stares a moment longer before directing his gaze at atsumu, “she likes it messy, make sure you don’t ruin the couch.”

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dee-writes-smut · 1 month

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SUMMER (Part Four)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY healing is a long journey that can't be summed up in just four simple seasons, but it seems with the help of a certain shadowsinger at your side, you've seemed to do it.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, Cassian POV, and mentions of wingspans ;)

AUTHORS NOTE the finale you've all been waiting for is finally here as promised! Thank you all so much for your support during this series, I am excited to be back and writing for you all again! Love you all and I hope you enjoy! <3

Summer arrives like a promise fulfilled, a canvas awash with vibrant hues of green and gold, as if nature herself has donned her finest attire. The air hums with the gentle whisper of transformation, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the promise of new beginnings on its warm breeze.

As the sun stretches its golden fingers across the land, casting long shadows that dance in its radiant glow, there's a palpable sense of rejuvenation in the air. It's as if each dawn heralds a new chapter, a chance to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the endless possibilities of the present.

In this season of abundance, life bursts forth with an exuberance that is both intoxicating and invigorating. The world awakens from its slumber, blossoming with a riot of colors as flowers unfurl their petals in joyful defiance of the lingering chill of winter. Leaves rustle in the gentle caress of the wind, their verdant whispers carrying tales of resilience and growth.

Amidst this symphony of nature's symphony, there is a sense of newfound strength coursing through every living thing. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the warmth of the sun infuses each day with a sense of possibility, igniting a fire within the soul that refuses to be extinguished.

In the heart of summer, time seems to slow, allowing moments to linger like the last rays of sunlight on a balmy evening. It's a season of exploration and adventure, where every day holds the promise of discovery and every sunset marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

And as the days stretch languidly into twilight, there is a quiet resilience that takes root, a deep-seated belief in the power of new beginnings and the strength that comes from embracing change. For in the heart of summer, beneath the sweltering heat and the endless blue skies, lies the untold promise of tomorrow, waiting to be seized with both hands and forged into something beautiful.

(Mid Summer, Velaris)

The afternoon sun poured into the training ring, casting long shadows of the figures sparring lightly within it. Cassian was across from me, a patient yet mischievous grin on his face, as he handed me a training sword. “Ready to get your ass kicked, or are you going to make me work for it today?”

I smirked, feeling the flutter of my old spirit stirring within. “Dream on, Cassian.”

The clash of our swords sang through the air, a melody of metal that resonated with the pounding of my heart. Each strike, each parry, felt like shedding layers of fear that had cocooned me since losing my wings.

“Focus,” Cassian said, his voice a mix of sternness and encouragement. “Remember, it’s not just about strength. It’s about knowing your opponent.”

I nodded, gripping my own wooden sword a little tighter. As I lunged forward, Cassian parried easily, countering with a swift movement that I barely blocked in time. We moved in a rhythm, the clack of our swords punctuating each maneuver. My muscles remembered the dance, even if they ached from disuse. Cassian’s style was a flurry of motion, designed to overwhelm, but today he tempered his usual ferocity, giving me room to find my footing again. The physical exertion was grounding, pulling me further away from my mental ghosts.

Laughter and shouts from Mor, watching from the sidelines, filled the arena, her cheers a buoyant soundtrack to our dance of blades and as we paused for a break, Mor jogged over with a waterskin and a smirk. She threw an arm around my shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Look at you! You’re almost back to your old self,” she beamed, her pride evident.

The warmth from her compliment soaked through me, loosening some of the tightness still lingering in my chest. “Feels good to move like that again,” I admitted, allowing the truth of my words to wash over me. It did feel good—like claiming back pieces of my soul, piece by piece.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” she smiled, squeezing me close again as she handed me the waterskin. After I took a long drink, she shot me a sly glance. “Speaking of fun, have you noticed how Azriel can't seem to stay away from your side?”

Mor’s eyebrows wiggled as I coughed on the water, wiping my mouth as I tried to compose myself. “He’s just being supportive,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Cassian chuckled, leaning on his sword. “Oh, he’s being supportive, all right. Haven’t seen him this glued to someone since… well, ever.”

I rolled my eyes, but the seed of awareness began to sprout in my mind. Azriel had indeed been a constant presence, his quiet strength a comfort I hadn’t realized I’d leaned on so much.

“Do you think it might be a mating bond?” Mor asked casually, too casually, as she inspected her nails.

The question halted me, the weight of the implication settling in my stomach like a stone. The mating bond was sacred, profound—was I ready for something like that? The very thought made my heart race, not just with fear but with a blossoming hope I hadn’t acknowledged until now.

“Maybe he’s just being a good friend,” I countered, but my voice lacked conviction.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “When you know, you know,” he said simply. “And it looks like you’re starting to realize something there.”

We resumed training, but his words echoed in my mind with each strike and block. Azriel’s face appeared in my thoughts, his smiles, the gentle touch of his hands, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me lately. My feelings for him, which I had shelved as mere gratitude or the simple need for companionship during recovery, seemed to be deepening into something richer, more profound.

As we finished and walked back towards the House of Wind, Mor looped her arm through mine. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she whispered. “But don’t close your heart to the possibility of something beautiful. Azriel cares for you deeply, more than just as a friend or protector.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow that bathed the world in a soft, forgiving light. It felt symbolic, reflective of my own internal dawn. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to consider that what lay between Azriel and me could be the kind of love that songs and tales were spun from. As fear and doubt receded, leaving room for this new, tender hope, I realized that my journey of healing was also leading me down a path of rediscovering my capacity to love—not just Azriel, but myself and this new life I was slowly, bravely building.

(Mid Summer, The River House)

That evening, the dinner with the Inner Circle was held at the sprawling, candlelit table in the River House. The atmosphere was thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of friendship and familial bonds. The windows were thrown open, allowing the crisp, cool air of Velaris to sweep through the room, mixing with the scent of jasmine and roasted meats.

As I entered the dining room, a subtle change in my demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by the group. Rhysand was the first to catch my eye, giving me a nod of approval and a warm, welcoming smile. Amren, ever observant, watched me with her piercing gaze, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, acknowledging the shift in my spirits.

Azriel, standing slightly apart, offered me a soft, encouraging smile as I took my place next to him. His quiet strength bolstered my newfound resolve to engage more fully with those around me.

Dinner began with a lively discussion led by Feyre about a recent exhibition at the art gallery in the city. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she described the vibrant colors and revolutionary techniques of the new artists showcased. I listened, chiming in with my thoughts on the integration of night and day themes, which earned an approving laugh from Rhys.

As the meal continued, Cassian, true to form, began recounting one of his training escapades, embellishing the details to make his tale more dramatic. “And then, just as I was about to execute my perfectly planned maneuver, an Illyrian baby sneezed on me. Totally threw off my game!”

Laughter erupted around the table, and I found myself genuinely chuckling, the sound surprising even to me. “Only you, Cassian, could be outmaneuvered by a baby’s sneeze,” I teased, earning a round of applause and a mock bow from Cassian.

“See, she’s got jokes now! Our girl’s coming back to us,” Mor exclaimed, her face alight with joy. She reached over to squeeze my hand, her gesture warm and reassuring.

As plates were cleared and desserts were served, the conversation shifted to lighter, more personal stories. Feyre shared anecdotes about her latest painting misadventures, while Mor detailed her plans for the upcoming festival in the city. Each story, each shared laugh, felt like a stitch mending the frayed edges of my soul.

As the dinner party began to wind down in the warm, laughter-filled hall, a soft coo from the corner caught my attention. Nyx, cradled gently in Feyre’s arms, was awake and curiously peeking over her shoulder with wide, starry eyes. I felt my heart tug softly. It had been too long since I had held him, too long since I’d allowed myself to be part of these simpler, beautiful family moments.

Feyre caught my gaze and smiled, understanding immediately. “Someone wants to say hello,” she said softly, walking over with Nyx. His small hand reached out, and I couldn’t help but smile as his fingers grasped at the air between us.

“May I?” I asked, my voice a whisper of excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty.

“Of course,” Feyre replied, carefully transferring Nyx into my arms. The baby settled against me with ease, a soft sigh escaping him as if he found comfort in my embrace. His tiny hand reached up, touching my cheek gently, an innocent gesture that felt like a reassurance of missed affection. It was as if he was saying he remembered me, that he too had felt the absence of our connection.

The moment wasn’t lost on Azriel, who watched from a short distance. His shadows flickered subtly around him, a telltale sign of his emotions stirring beneath that calm exterior. Since the conversation with Cassian and Mor earlier today, every glance, every small interaction with him seemed charged with a new, silent tension. My newly admitted feelings for him amplified each shared look, adding weight to the air between us.

As I rocked Nyx gently, my thoughts drifted to Azriel again. His presence at my side had become a constant, his support unwavering. The depth of my affection for him had crept up silently, weaving itself into the fabric of my daily life until it was indistinguishable from my other truths. I found myself stealing glances at him, each look a quiet confession of the feelings I was only beginning to allow myself to acknowledge.

Azriel eventually made his way over, his gaze softening as he looked at Nyx in my arms. “He’s missed you,” Azriel murmured, his voice barely audible over the low hum of conversation around us.

I met his eyes, feeling a flush of warmth at the intimacy of the moment. “I’ve missed him, too. Missed all of this,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. The way Azriel looked at me then, with such warmth and depth, made my heart skip a beat.

“Looks good on you,” he said after a pause, nodding towards Nyx.

The comment, simple and offhand, thrummed with unspoken meanings. It was a nudge against the boundaries we had maintained, a gentle probing into the new spaces of my heart that had begun to open to him.

As I handed Nyx back to Feyre, I caught Azriel’s arm gently. “Stay for a moment?” I asked, my voice hopeful, laden with the weight of all the things I hadn��t yet said.

He nodded, his usual reserve melting away for a moment as he stayed by my side, his presence a silent promise of things perhaps soon to be explored. We both knew something unspoken was shifting between us, and while neither of us was ready to dive into those waters just yet, acknowledging it—even in silence—felt like the first step toward a new horizon.

(Mid Summer, The House of Wind)

The following week, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, and I revived our "book club"—a ruse for nights filled with wine, wild discussions about our latest reads, and shared secrets under the cloak of night. As I sat curled up on a plush couch, a glass of wine in hand, surrounded by these incredible women, a profound sense of belonging enveloped me. Here, in these moments, I was safe to just be; to heal, to laugh, to grow.

The cozy nook tucked away in the House of Wind had become our sanctuary, a place where the Inner Circle’s book club convened to discuss literature, life, and everything in between. Tonight, as the flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the room, I settled into my usual spot among the plush cushions, surrounded by my closest friends.

Feyre, Nesta, and Mor lounged around me, each with a book in hand, their faces alight with anticipation for our weekly gathering. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, the air buzzing with the promise of lively conversation and shared insights.

“So, what’s everyone reading this week?” Mor asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced around the circle.

Feyre held up a worn copy of her latest find, a tale of forbidden love and political intrigue. “I’m revisiting an old favorite,” she said with a smile. “It’s like catching up with an old friend.”

Nesta, with a smirk playing on her lips, produced a rather scandalous-looking novel with a provocative cover. “I’m exploring the more… sensual side of literature,” she declared, her voice dripping with amusement.

As the conversation flowed around me, I couldn’t help but chuckle at Nesta’s choice. Leave it to her to bring a little spice to our book club discussions. I was hesitant to share tonight, scared to share my feelings so blatantly, to say them out loud in a space with women who would not so soon let me forget. Tonight felt different, though, I felt stronger, able to seize this chance to share with my friends the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

“I’ve been reading this collection of poetry,” I began, my voice tentative at first. “It’s funny how words can capture the complexity of human emotions so beautifully.”

Mor’s eyes gleamed with interest, her grin widening. “Ah, poetry—the language of the heart,” she said, her tone teasing yet tender. “Any particular poem speaking to you?”

I hesitated, my gaze flickering to the empty spot where Azriel usually sat. His absence was keenly felt, a reminder of the unresolved tension between us. “There’s one poem that resonates with me,” I admitted, my voice growing stronger with each word. “It’s about…” I faltered, the weight of my confession heavy on my tongue.

Feyre leaned forward, her eyes warm with understanding. “About love?” she prompted gently, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine in silent support.

I nodded, the words spilling forth in a rush. “About love, and fear, and the courage to open your heart to someone—even when it scares you.”

Nesta regarded me with a thoughtful expression, her gaze piercing yet compassionate. “Love is a battlefield,” she said, her voice soft yet firm. “But sometimes, the greatest victories come from facing our fears head-on.”

Mor chimed in with her trademark humor, lightening the mood with a well-timed joke. “Who knew our stoic Shadowsinger had a soft spot for you?”

Feyre smiled knowingly, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe it’s time to confront the shadows and see what lies beneath.”

Nesta couldn’t resist adding her own brand of wit to the conversation. “Speaking of shadows,” she said with a sly grin, “has anyone else noticed Azriel’s wingspan lately?”

We all laughed at Nesta’s comment, the tension in the room dissipating as we embraced the camaraderie of our little gathering. Despite the challenges we faced, tonight was a reminder that with the support of friends, even the darkest shadows could be chased away.

As the evening wore on, our conversation drifted from books to more personal topics, each of us sharing snippets of our lives and experiences. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a chance to peel back the layers and reveal the raw truths hidden beneath.

Nesta, ever the enigma, shared tales of her latest adventures in the human lands, her sharp wit and cunning intellect shining through with every word.

Mor, always the life of the party, regaled us with stories of her escapades in the Court of Nightmares, her laughter contagious as she recounted her misadventures.

And Feyre, with her quiet strength and unwavering compassion, offered words of wisdom and encouragement, her presence a soothing balm to our troubled souls.

As for me, I found solace in their company, the weight of my burdens eased by the warmth of their friendship. In their laughter and shared moments, I found the courage to confront my fears and embrace the possibility of a brighter future.

And as the candles burned low and the night grew late, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I would face them with the unwavering support of my sisters by my side.

The support of the entire Inner Circle was a force as tangible as the magic that coursed through our veins—a constant, steadfast presence that fortified me against the darker moments. Their belief in me, their unyielding backing, gave me strength, and little by little, I began to feel not just the shadow of the person I once was, but someone stronger, resilient, reborn from adversity.

In these gatherings, these moments of shared vulnerability and joy, I was not just healing. I was transforming—emerging not how I was before the kidnapping, but perhaps even brighter, tempered by trials and warmed by the unwavering light of the family I chose and who had chosen me in return.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The night pressed heavily around the room, its silence a thick, oppressive blanket punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of Azriel beside me. In the comfort of his proximity, sleep had finally granted me a temporary reprieve from the relentless torment of my nightmares. Yet, the peace was fragile, vulnerable to the slightest disturbance—a reality proven as a sharp, inexplicable chill sliced through the room's stagnant warmth.

The temperature plummeted, wrapping its icy fingers around my spine, jolting me awake. My eyes flicked open, instantly scanning the familiar contours of the room bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight. Shadows clung to the walls like dark, silent sentinels until one stirred coalescing into a form far too human, far too familiar.

Lyris emerged from the darkness as though materializing from my deepest fears, his presence a tangible echo of past horrors. His eyes, sharp and merciless, locked onto mine with the precision of a hunter sighting its prey. The sheer malevolence in his gaze sent a visceral shudder through me, yet it was no longer solely fear that stirred within my veins. Anger, raw and blazing, kindled within, fueling a burgeoning defiance I hadn't known I possessed.

"Thinking you could escape me?" Lyris's voice was a venomous hiss, his form inching closer with predatory grace. His smirk was twisted, a grotesque mask of sadistic anticipation.

But then, with the seamless reflexes honed by centuries of battle, Azriel was between us. His body moved with lethal precision, his hand snapping out to seize Lyris by the wrist, halting his advance with unyielding strength. "She's under my protection," Azriel snarled, his voice a dangerous, low rumble. His other hand flicked to his side, the sound of steel sliding from leather slicing through the tension as he brandished a dagger, its blade catching the moon's silver light.

Lyris recoiled slightly, his eyes darting to the blade then back to Azriel’s unwavering stare. "You think you can keep her from her fate?" he spat, struggling against Azriel's iron grip.

“Her fate is her own, and you have no part in it,” Azriel retorted, his wings unfurling menacingly. The air around us thickened with dark, swirling shadows, responding to the raw power emanating from him. In that moment, he was not just my protector but an avenging angel cloaked in night's embrace.

The room filled with a heavy, expectant silence, thick with the weight of unspoken threats. Breaking the tension, I found my voice, though it trembled with the force of my emotions. "Where are my wings, Lyris?" The question tore from me, a desperate plea tangled with a demand.

"Your wings?" he mused mockingly, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "Such a precious prize… Let's just say they're kept in a place where they await their true destiny—far from your reach.”

"Give them back," Azriel demanded, his tone lethal, a stark contrast to the deceptive calm of his posture.

Lyris's laugh was cold and chilling, like the howl of the wind outside. "You overestimate your power here, shadow singer. I could take her now, and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

Azriel's response was swift and deadly serious. "Try it, and it will be the last thing you do." His wings unfurled dramatically as he snatched Lyris’ wrist in a powerful grip, the span of dark membrane filling the room with a sense of otherworldly power. The shadows around him deepened, swirling in response to his anger and the protective fury that laced every syllable.

The standoff stretched, a moment suspended in time where every breath, every heartbeat was laden with potential violence. Then, with a jerk, Lyris wrenched free, stepping back into the protective shroud of darkness. “She will never be free from me," he hissed, his presence oppressive, suffocating. "And neither will you."

Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he dissolved into shadows, leaving a cold void in his wake. His final words echoed ominously, a malevolent promise hanging in the air. As the immediate threat vanished, Azriel’s demeanor shifted, the lethal warrior receding to reveal his concern. He turned to me, his intense gaze softening. “Are you alright?” His voice was now a gentle whisper, a stark contrast to the deadly thunder from moments before.

I collapsed back against the pillows, my body trembling uncontrollably. The fear wasn't just about the physical presence of Lyris—it was the emotional and psychological terror, the deep scars he had left on my soul, that overwhelmed me.

Azriel sat beside me, enveloping me in his arms, his presence a solid, reassuring force against the lingering echoes of dread. "I'm here. You're safe," he murmured against my hair, his voice a soothing balm.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, sobs wracking my body as the terror slowly ebbed away, replaced by immense fatigue. "We have to get them back, Azriel. I need to feel whole again."

His embrace tightened, a silent promise of unyielding support. "We will," he assured me quietly. "No matter what it takes, we will bring them back.” He took a deep breath, his arms tightening around me as if he were scared that I might run from him. “Always, I will protect you. From him, from anyone who dares to threaten you,” he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. His wings, now gently wrapped around us, formed a cocoon that felt impenetrable.

Settling back against him, I allowed the warmth of his embrace to seep deeper into my bones, expelling the lingering chill of Lyris's visit. His presence was a bastion, within which I found not only protection but a profound sense of belonging.

As we lay back down, the room once again shrouded in the soothing silence of night, a new resolve fortified my spirit. Lyris had found me, yes, but he had not found me alone, nor would he ever. Azriel’s vow to protect me was more than a promise—it was a declaration, a sentinel set against the darkness, both within and without. As sleep beckoned once more, the shadows no longer seemed an ominous threat lurking in the corners but allies, guardians cloaked in the same darkness that wrapped around us, a shield against all that would do harm.

(Late Summer, Cassian)

The morning after Lyris's intrusion, the House of Wind seemed to hold its breath, an unspoken tension palpable in the air. Everyone had shared their worries for her, our friend who had clawed her way back from that bastard's torment. We all worried, we all loved her so greatly, enjoyed the way her presence warmed Azriel’s cold exterior and to see her fall back into that dark place she had fought her way out of, to take Azriel unknowingly with her again, it poured a dark sense of grief over the house.

But amidst the uncertainty, the deep seeded fear of losing our friend once more, there was a glimmer of light, a beacon of hope cutting through the darkness. Entering the kitchen, I was met with a scene that caught me off guard—our friend, her laughter ringing out like a bell as she shared a moment of levity with Azriel. It was a rare sight, one that stirred a mixture of surprise and quiet satisfaction within me.

Azriel, usually cloaked in shadows both literal and metaphorical, had a small, genuine smile playing at the corners of his lips. His usually guarded demeanor seemed to soften in her presence, and I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in the air between them.

Their interaction spoke volumes, a silent language of understanding and companionship that transcended words. Despite the trials they had faced, there was a sense of comfort and familiarity in their shared laughter, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the company of those we held dear.

As I joined them in the kitchen, a silent witness to their shared moment of joy, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the bond that had formed between them. Their friendship had weathered storms that would have broken lesser souls, and yet here they were, laughing together as if the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders.

And as I observed them, surrounded by the warmth of their laughter and the comfort of their companionship, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope for the future. For in the bond between her and Azriel, I saw strength, resilience, and the promise of brighter days ahead.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The day had been long and daunting, with every passing moment feeling like a test of endurance. The worry from my friends was palpable, their concern etched into every glance and every word. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate their care—it was their hovering, their treating me like a fragile thing, that grated against my newfound sense of strength. But amidst it all, there was Azriel.

He stood as a steadfast anchor amidst the storm, a silent guardian who watched over me with unwavering determination. While others fretted and fussed, he remained at my side, a silent sentinel who seemed to understand without the need for words. His presence alone was enough to bolster my spirits, to remind me that I was not alone in this struggle.

Throughout the day, I found myself stealing glances at him, marveling at the depth of his care. How had I not noticed it before? His gaze lingered on me with a mixture of concern and understanding, his eyes a window to the depths of his soul. It was as if he saw straight through the facade I presented to the world, recognizing the strength within me even when I doubted it myself.

As evening descended and the weight of the day settled upon us, we retreated to the familiar sanctuary of my room. Azriel had made it his own, his presence a comforting presence in the darkness. The routine of preparing for bed had become second nature to us—changing into pajamas, brushing our teeth side by side, and slipping under the covers as Azriel performed his meticulous check of the room.

In the quiet moments before sleep claimed us, we lay in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for Azriel's unwavering support, for his steadfast presence that had seen me through the darkest of days. It was a bond forged in the crucible of adversity, a connection that defied explanation yet felt more real than anything I had ever known.

“Azriel?” I called softly into the night, my voice barely a whisper.

He turned to me, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. For a moment, we simply gazed at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. And then, with a small smile, he reached out, pulling me closer until I was nestled against his chest.

At that moment, as I lay nestled against Azriel's chest, something shifted between us—a subtle yet profound change that altered the very fabric of our connection. It was as if the air crackled with an invisible energy, a tangible tension that seemed to draw us closer together.

I felt it first, the unmistakable sensation of the mating bond snapping into place with a sudden clarity that took my breath away. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. The primal need to be close to him, to feel his presence as an extension of my own, suddenly made perfect sense.

And then, as if in response to my realization, Azriel let out a small gasp, his arms tightening around me with a fierce urgency that mirrored my own. It was a primal, instinctual reaction, as if some ancient part of him recognized the significance of this moment and refused to let me go.

In that instant, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, replaced by a profound sense of clarity and understanding. We were bound together, our souls intertwined in a way that transcended the physical realm. And as I gazed into Azriel's eyes, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united by the unbreakable bond that now bound us.

"I'll protect you, ensure you are safe and happy and loved," Azriel vowed, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around me like a warm embrace, promising sanctuary in the depths of his love.

Tears welled in my eyes as his words washed over me, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm my fragile resolve. "As will I," I replied, my voice trembling with the weight of my own commitment, my heart laid bare before him in a moment of raw vulnerability.

His eyes, pools of darkness tinged with golden fire, bore into mine with a fierce intensity, piercing through the walls I had built around my heart. "Throughout all the seasons you will be mine, if that is what you want?" His voice was a whisper, yet it echoed through the chambers of my soul, stirring something deep within me that I could no longer deny.

With a trembling breath, I reached out to him, my fingers trembling as they traced the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every scar, every shadow that danced across his skin. "There is no one else I would rather share them with," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, the truth of my words ringing out in the quiet room like a sacred vow.

And in that moment, as our souls intertwined in the golden threads of the mating bond, I felt a surge of emotion wash over me, overwhelming in its intensity. It was as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had been lifted from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that I had longed for all my life.

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the space between us as we stood on the precipice of eternity. In that sacred embrace, we found refuge from the storms that had battered our souls, forging a connection that would endure the trials of time. And as we surrendered to the pull of the mating bond, our hearts beat as one, a symphony of love and devotion that echoed through the halls of the House of Wind.

Together, we would face the challenges that lay ahead, our bond a beacon of hope in the darkness, guiding us through the labyrinth of life with unwavering strength and unwavering love.

For in each other's arms, we had found our home, our sanctuary, our forever. And as the night enveloped us in its embrace, we knew that no matter what trials awaited us, we would face them together, united in a love that was destined to last for all eternity.

[PREVIOUS]

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impala-dreamer · 5 months

Text

Trouble On Set

A Short Story

~Jensen and Jared have a habit of messing with costars, but what happens when one of them fights back?~

Jensen x Reader (ish), Misha, Jared / Dean x Carrie, Sam, Castiel

2,963 Words

Warnings: Pranks and Drama and Adult Behavior. Fluff.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

Dean raised his hand once more, ready to strike, and Carrie cringed in fear, shrinking down into a tiny thing, like a flower retreating from the frost.

“Please, don’t!” Her voice was weak and trembling just like her fragile frame. Blood trickled down from the cut on her lip, bruises blossomed beneath her smooth skin.

Dean froze, his fist hovering in the air above his head. He caught his breath and crumbled inside, green eyes going wide with sadness. “I- I didn’t mean to…”

Sam rushed past his brother, nearly knocking him to the side as he fell to his knees to check on Carrie. She lunged forward into his big arms, finding a bit of comfort as they wrapped tight around her.

“It’s OK,” he whispered, “I got you.”

She looked up from Sam’s shoulder to Dean, her eyes huge with shock and betrayal. “Dean, I-”

A loud, blistering pop of air ripped through the room, accompanied by a rotten smell so foul that Carrie could not hold back her disgust.

“Dean, I- I-” The smell permeated her senses and her gag reflex activated. “Oh god-”

Jared laughed, his giant body shaking, still wrapped around Y/N. She gagged loudly and tried to pry herself out of his grasp.

“Cut!”

“Oh my god!” Y/N held her breath and shoved at Jared’s chest, finally pushing him away.

Above them, Jensen looked down with a wicked smile. “Jesus, dude, what’d you eat!” He waved a hand in front of his face as the smell finally reached him.

“You’re disgusting,” Misha added, standing off to the side on his mark. “So gross.”

Jared stood up and shrugged as he adjusted his jeans, yanking them up back into place. “Hey! Shit happens!”

Jensen burst into a loud cackle that bent him clean in half. “Did you shit yourself?”

Y/N tried to stay calm, keep herself professional, but the smell seemed to be getting worse. “Wow.”

“Think something died in your ass, dude,” Jensen went on, hands on his knees as he laughed.

Jared took it all in like he was winning an award, smile beaming as the crew reset.

“OK! Settle! Let’s go again.”

Dean raised his fist high, his jaw twitching with anger.

Carrie shrank down and away, terrified and aching from his previous blow. “Please, don’t!” Her voice trembled, her hand shot up to hide her face from his wrath.

Dean froze, his fingers unfurling as he looked down at her, pain and sadness filling his freckled face. “I- I didn’t mean to…”

Carrie stared up at him, tears flooding her pretty eyes.

Jensen licked his lips slowly, seductively, and raised an eyebrow at Y/N.

Sam rushed past Dean and dropped down to his knees next to Carrie. She fell forward into his big arms as her breath became labored with heavy sobs.

“It’s OK,” he whispered, “I got you.”

Jensen bared his teeth and ran the tip of his tongue across the edges, licking his chops like a wolf as he stared at her.

Carrie looked up from Sam’s shoulder and a tear fell from her eye. “Dean, I-”

Again, Jensen used his tongue, this time flickering it quickly between his teeth, then rolling it suggestively. He smirked as Y/N shivered, distracted by his movements.

“Dean, I-”

Another slow, long roll of his tongue.

“I, uh…”

“Cut!”

Jared leapt to his feet and went over to Jensen, continuing a conversation from before the first take. Misha pulled out his phone, and Y/N simply stayed on the dirty studio floor, wiping real tears from her face with the hem of her shirt.

“You OK?”

Blue eyes were wide with genuine concern, but Y/N waved Misha off. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Her smile was weak but managed to help calm her frustration.

“OK, people. Let’s go again! Take ten…”

And so it went.

After five days of filming the first of her seven episode run, Y/N had messed up nearly every shot she was in, whether by design or fear of having it ruined. Jared and Jensen were terribly wicked, making her break constantly, tripping her, making faces at each other or her, farting- it was almost unmanageable. Through it all, Y/N tried her best to stay calm and keep going. It was a huge thing- landing a spot on such a great show, but she didn’t know if she could do it for much longer. The frustration was boiling up inside of her, and- not to mention- she felt unwanted and severely disliked. Everyone always talked about how nice Ackles and Padalecki were to guest stars, how playful and loving the set was, how the cast and crew were like family. Y/N sure as hell wasn’t feeling like family. More like the black sheep no one wanted to talk about. Or to.

Dean raised his hand once more, ready to strike, and Carrie cringed in fear, shrinking down into a tiny thing, like a flower retreating from the frost.

“Please, don’t!” Her voice was weak and trembling just like her fragile frame. Blood trickled down from the cut on her lip, bruises blossomed beneath her smooth skin.

Dean froze, his fist hovering in the air above his head. He caught his breath and crumbled inside, green eyes going wide with sadness. “I- I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s OK,” he whispered, “I got you.”

She looked up from Sam’s shoulder to Dean, her eyes huge with shock and betrayal. “Dean, I-”

Jensen looked up at the ceiling, refusing to meet her gaze. He puckered his lips as if whistling, completely ignoring her.

“Dean-”

He tongued his cheek and sighed, seemingly annoyed by her acting.

“I… um…”

Y/N cleared her throat and grit her teeth, determined to make it through the take.

“Dean- I’m so sorry.” Carrie let loose a stream of loud tears, pouring them into Sam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry!”

“And...cut! We got it. That’s dinner, people.”

Y/N stepped out into the cold Vancouver night, totally uninterested in dinner or anything other than collapsing into her bed back at the hotel. She needed a shower, a drink, and a call back home to her best friend. The job she’d been looking forward to for weeks had turned out to be a nightmare.

Finally alone, she closed her eyes and lifted them towards the dark sky, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. Things were not what they had seemed.

Boots echoed behind her and Y/N startled, turning to see Jensen walking towards her, a kind smile upon his plump lips.

“Hey.” He stopped a few feet away and tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels nervously.

Y/N’s anxiety spiked and her stomach tightened. “Hey.”

He licked his bottom lip slowly, green eyes flashing over her face. “Great job today. Made it through that scene nicely.”

Confused, Y/N swallowed down her annoyance and nodded. “Thanks. You too.”

“It’s not easy to cry like that,” he complimented, voice smooth and sweet. “I’m impressed.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, not sure what was going on. “Thanks?”

“Really,” he pushed with a smile, the apples of his cheeks burning pink under the lot lights. “You did great.”

Y/N couldn’t respond; her thoughts twisted in utter confusion. She stared at Jensen as if he were some alien being sent to drive her insane.

He tipped back on his boot heels and took a deep breath, prepping for something. He cleared his throat and locked his knees. “So anyway… I was wondering if you… wanted to come get a drink with me? We’re pretty much done for the day. I think they’re just reshooting Jared’s scene with Misha next, so you and I could sneak away.” He held his breath and dug his front teeth hard into his bottom lip, waiting for her answer.

It was not what he expected.

Y/N’s jaw dropped and she blinked furiously at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”

Jensen laughed timidly. “There’s a bar we like to go to downtown. We can… go hang out? Get a buzz on?” He shrugged and smiled.

Y/N snapped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He jolted. “What?”

“I said, are you fucking kidding me?” she spat, turning towards him with rage pulsing from her form. Jensen took a step back but she came closer. “You… you have been fucking with me all fucking week!” Her voice echoed down the alleyway, giant metal buildings amplifying her rage like a blow horn. “You’re so mean! You… you and Jared have been fucking up every take for me! You tripped me twice, I slammed into a wall yesterday; you’re making disgusting remarks and faces at me while I’m trying to cry. You’re ruining this for me!”

Jensen’s hands lifted from his pockets to surrender, his palms facing her in the dark. “Whoa. It’s not… we’re not-”

“You’re not? You’re not! You’re gonna get me fired! Do you even care about anyone but yourself? This is a huge deal for me and you’re going to ruin it. I’m gonna get fired because you can’t keep be fucking professional and Jared can’t stop eating burritos for lunch!” Y/N caught herself, gasping for a breath while her pulse raged in her ears. “Fuck!”

Jensen shook his head in shock and lowered his hands. “Y/N, it’s… really not what you think. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Oh, he’s sorry!” She spun around, telling the world. “He’s sorry he’s going to get me fired, everyone! Jensen Ackles is sorry! That makes it all better!”

He stood, dumbfounded and guilty, his shoulders falling low, his eyes filling with hurt. “Wow. I’m… really sorry.”

Y/N took a deep, shaking breath and turned her eyes away, not wanting him to see her cry. “Yeah. Thanks for the apology.” She crossed her arms and spun on her heel, turning her back on him. “Think I’ll pass on drinks.”

Jensen tried to say something, to find some way to smooth things over, but his voice died in the back of his throat, his mind empty and unsure. “Yeah,” he mumbled, backing away. “OK.”

She heard him walk away and she did the same, stalking towards the parking lot.

From the shadows, a dark figure emerged, black hair a mess, trenchcoat flapping gently in the breeze.

“You know he’s just fucking with you.”

Misha’s voice called to her and Y/N turned to see him leaning against the corner of the building, clearly having heard and seen everything.

“You usually lurk in the shadows like that?”

He laughed and shrugged. “No, but I’m usually in the right place at the right time.”

Y/N shook her head. “Not me. I’m clearly in the wrong place, wrong time, wrong profession.”

Misha pushed himself away from the wall. “Nah. You were really good today.”

“Was I?” she snit, sarcasm coating every inch of her. “Sorry. I’m just- they’re torturing me and I don’t know why.” Her voice cracked. “They fucking hate me. What did I do?”

He laughed.

“Oh, that’s funny to you?”

He shook his head. “They don’t hate you, Y/N.”

She huffed. “I highly doubt that, but thank you.”

Misha came closer and lowered his voice. “You know, they only torture those they like. Especially Jensen. He’s only like that with people he… really likes.” He emphasized the last like as if he were the grade school gossip and Y/N scoffed.

“Yeah, right.”

He grinned and shrugged. “Believe me or don’t, but it’s true. At least with you around, I’m getting a break.”

Y/N’s shoulders scrunched up high as she processed the new information. “He… likes me?”

Misha nodded. “Yup. He’s like a kid on a playground,” he told her. “If he dips your pigtails in ink tomorrow, don’t be upset. It’s like his mating call.”

Y/N cracked the first smile in days and hummed devilishly. “Hmm…”

“That’s a scary hmm,” Misha laughed.

“It is,” she agreed, turning to meet his gaze. “Maybe we can use this,” she said, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. “Maybe we can prank him back.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that never works. I’ve tried.”

Again, Y/N’s brain turned in circles as her plan pieced together. “Hmm…”

Misha leaned back and watched her think. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Carrie walked into the kitchen, her face covered in bruises; a tiny butterfly bandage above her eyelid holding together a deep cut. She tiptoed down the steps and skirted the perimeter, eyes ever on Dean who sat alone at the table. He nursed a beer, two empty bottles haphazardly lined up next to it.

“Rough night?” she asked, her voice cracking with nervous emotion.

Dean didn’t look at her. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long sip, his eyes closing as the brew flooded his tongue. He came up with a heavy breath. “Rough life.”

She nodded and took a step towards him. “Yeah. I don’t doubt it.” Bare feet were sticky on the tile as she went to him, stopping at the edge of the table. “Do you wanna-”

“Talk about it?” he snapped, cutting her off, looking up with pained, red-rimmed eyes. “No. Do you?”

Meekly, Carrie shook her head. “No.”

She started to turn, meaning to leave him alone to wallow, but Dean’s hand shot out to grab her wrist, pulling her down to him. He looked up, a little drunk, mostly guilty.

“Why are you still here?” he whispered, tears choking his deep voice.

Her bottom lip trembled as his grip tightened. “W-what do you mean?”

Dean sat up, drawing closer to her, gaze digging into her soul. “Why are you still here? I almost killed you.”

She swallowed hard and leaned down, breath passing over his lips like a warm breeze. He closed his eyes but the kiss never landed. She pressed her cheek to his and whispered in his ear. “Because I can’t leave you…”

Dean’s eyes welled with tears.

Y/N’s whisper continued as the camera zoomed in over her shoulder on Dean’s reaction. “Because all I can think about is taking you out back and sucking your big, juicy cock over and over until you die of dehydration.”

Jensen choked on his own spit, so shocked by her words. He coughed to clear his throat and the scene was dead.

“Cut!”

Y/N pulled back and stared down at him, daring him to say anything. Jensen was stunned, looking up with wide eyes.

She winked.

He shivered.

“Back it up! Reset!”

Carrie tiptoed down the steps into the kitchen, bruised and battered from the night before. She saw Dean and shivered, body tensing up as she walked the edges of the room

“Rough night?” she asked, voice shaking.

Dean ignored her and lifted the bottle to his lips. “Rough life.”

Carrie took a step towards him. “Yeah. I don’t doubt it.” She floated towards him, nervous but needing to help. “Do you wanna-”

“Talk about it?” he growled, looking up at her.

Y/N let her eyes go soft and parted her lips. The tip of her tongue shot out to slowly drag across her bottom lip. Jensen swallowed hard.

“No,” Dean snit. “Do you?”

Carrie shook her head. “No.”

She started to leave but Dean reached for her wrist, pulling her down to him. He looked up and gasped.

Y/N puckered her lips into a perfect circle and Jensen couldn’t think of anything else but her mouth wrapped around his cock.

“W-Why are you... s-still here?” he whispered, chest heaving, eyes gazing over.

Carrie’s lip trembled “What do you mean, Dean?”

Y/N spoke his name with half a moan and Jensen squirmed in his seat, feeling his dick grow.

“Uh…Um...Why? W-why are-”

“Cut!”

Thrice more, Jensen mucked up the scene. Staring at Y/N, he couldn’t get any words to properly form, let alone a tear to fall. She licked her lips, batted her lashes, sucked her fingers, moaned in his ear. The closer they got to finishing the scene, the harder she teased him, and in the end, he could barely stand.

Dean stood quickly and Carrie backed away, afraid he would strike her again. Her wrist was snagged in his hand, his grip unbreakable.

“Let me go!” she demanded, twisting in his grasp.

Dean walked her backwards until she hit the countertop, her breath pushing out in a shocked huff.

“Dean!”

He kissed her silent, releasing her hand only to hold her cheeks, push his breath into her, his pain, his guilt.

“I’m sorry.”

She licked his kiss from her lips and closed her eyes. “I know.”

“Cut! We got it!”

Jensen dropped his hands from Y/N’s cheeks but didn’t back away right away. She bucked her hips forward and he groaned deep in the back of his throat. He was hard against her, his erection straining in his jeans.

The crew carried on their business and slowly, Jensen backed away, clasping his hands in front of his crotch.

“You figured it out,” he said with a faint laugh.

Y/N tongued her cheek and looked away, over his shoulder. “I had a little help from an angel,” she confessed.

Jensen dropped his head. “Damnit Misha.”

Y/N lifted her eyes to his. “Damnit, nothing.” She cocked her head and leaned close. “Wanna go get that drink now?”

Jensen’s lips puckered and he let out a slow breath. “Hell yes.”

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @djs8891 @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @iamsapphine @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @maggiegirl17 @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @roseblue373 @sacriceria @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @spnexploration @stevekempscocktails @the-wounded-healer05

#spn rpf #spn fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #fluff drama pranks set life #one shot

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turtlecleric · 2 months

Note

Imagine.

You watched with growing anxiety at the agitation in Leo’s movements as he paced in front of you. His hands clenching and unclenching as if he was resisting the urge to hold onto something.

Your own hand came to cross over your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt over your heart as you tried to soothe it's frantic hummingbird pace.

He…couldnt be serious could he? This…this wasn't a joke. The icy feeling of dread crawled over your shoulders and settled like a dead weight into your stomach at the realization that…maybe…none of this… none of this had been a joke at all.

The question fell unbidden from your lips. A small croak of uncertainty and a necessary follow-up from Leo’s explosive confession just a few moments earlier.

“Do…do you really mean that? You’re not joking…you… love me?”

It came out smaller and more tentative than you would have liked, but a dangerous dangerous seed of hope had been planted by Leo’s words. It's roots slowly dug their way into the softness of your heart, coiling and squeezing to the point that you felt like you couldn't breathe. But you needed an answer.

Leo’s pacing came to a screeching halt directly in front of you, and his head snapped up at your ghosted whisper.

His plastron heaved with a barely controlled movement as if he were restraining himself from something. For all of his composure, or lack thereof he couldn't hide the look in his eyes.

A dark smolder was lit in his eyes, as his heated gaze bore into you with such an intensity that it made you instinctively take a step back.

Your movement snapped whatever thin chord of restraint Leo still had been leashed with and he moved.

Sometimes you forgot he was the greatest ninja of all time. Forgot the speed and the strength that pulsed underneath that leathered, scaled skin, like an untapped live wire.

Because in a flash, Leo had made up the distance between the two of you and somehow had you advanced backwards to the point your back slammed against the wall behind you.

You let out a little “oof” as the air was knocked from your lungs at the force of impact. Before you could even catch the breath that was so rudely extracted from you, you felt Leo’s hand slammed onto the wall right next to your head.

A small squeak of surprise emitted from your throat as you jumped, your head snapping up to meet Leo’s solemn gaze.

“L-Leo?”

You whispered, still working on catching your breath.

Leo, for being a man of many words, was uncharacteristically silent. And the way that he just stared at you so intently, with his own shallow breaths hitting your face in small pants, set your nerves sparking.

He didn't speak, but instead, the hand on the wall came to cup the back of your neck, tilting it up to meet his gaze. The slight tremble of his fingers against your neck was the only hint of his true feelings.

Imagine.

Leo’s body pressing you securely up against the wall with no chance of escape, one hand cradling the back of your neck with an aching tenderness that was at complete odds with his earlier explosion of feelings.

Imagine.

Leo’s other hand coming to gently pull yours away from where you clutched it over your heart. He took your hand into his and with a sagging sigh, closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours.

He brought your shaking fist to his lips and began to press slow kisses to each of your knuckles, murming against the skin.

“Does this answer your question?”

Leo tenderly unfurled your clenched hand and placed it against his plastron, pressing it against his heart with his own hand.

You could feel it thundering underneath your palm and your own heart rate began dance in reply.

“I-I don't understand…”

Leo’s whole body shook at your reply, and his hand around the back of your neck tightened slightly, his thumb coming to agitatedly stroke the soft flesh. Each little touch sent sparks of electricity up and down your spine, your breath hitching slightly.

Leo’s forehead pressed more firmly against yours with a low-sounding groan emerging from the base of his throat.

He slowly drug your hand from his heart, over his collar bone, up his neck and moving your fingers to feel the pulse point directly underneath his jaw.

“Can you feel it? Can you feel how you never give me a break?

Ohhhhhh you could feel it alright, and you're pretty sure with how close Leo was and how tightly was holding you, he could feel it too.

You let out a small incredulous laugh and shook your head, not believing this was happening.

“O-oh is…is that what this is?”

At the sound of your laugh, a dark almost guttural sound emerged from Leo’s throat and he moved his head down to gently knock your jaw upwards with his nose.

He held you hostage there for a moment, just breathing in your intoxicatingly sweet scent, unable to believe that he was finally this close to you. Holding you just the way he had dreamed about for years.

Then imagine.

With an aching amount of measured slowness, Leo beginng to drag the smallest of kisses up the pulse line of your neck, starting at the juncture between where your neck met your shoulder and working his way up to the corner of your jaw.

Imagine the timbre of his voice as his warm breath ghosted over your skin with every kiss.

“Dont. Laugh. Can't you see how serious this is?”

Just…just imagine.

~Ninja

Oh... I'm imagining, alright

#i can barely even read I'm #hhhh #asks #rise!leo #ff

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aldbooks · 2 months

Text

Gwynriel Day 12 - NSFW

A Court of Shadows - bonus chapter

I had proposed the idea at some point in the story of a bonus chapter featuring fire play which I decided to save for Gwynriel weeks. This particular chapter can be read without any major spoilers of the story.

Read on AO3

2863 words

Tugging on the knot to ensure it was secure, Gwyn’s fingers slid up, caressing the inside of Azriel’s wrist, watching his fingers curl and stretch toward her touch. She carefully wiggled two fingers under the thick, silk ribbon to check he had enough room. “Feel good?” she asked.

He hummed his agreement, his head hanging over the back of the chair as he watched her work. Standing, she allowed him a quick kiss. “Words, Shadowsinger,” she scolded, using the same reprimand he used when he was in control. He smirked.

“Yes, dove. You’re getting good at that.” His tone was a mix of pride and wariness.

Gwyn chuckled lightly. “I learned from the best.” Another quick kiss and then she stepped back, studying her handiwork, walking around him in a slow circle. She’d selected a chair with a low back that allowed his wings to hang freely and comfortably. His hands were bound together at the wrist and secured to either of the back chair legs, limiting his movement, just as his ankles were securely bound to the front legs. And he was beautifully, gloriously naked.

“Secure enough?” she asked. She watched, biting her lips as his muscles flexed, testing her knots.

After a moment, he looked up at her with a crooked smile. “I could get out of them if I wanted, but they’ll work for our purposes.”

“Good,” she grinned. “Do you like the new ribbon?”

“Yes… I see it wasn’t the only thing you bought today.” His eyes slid over her body as she stood before him, his heated gaze bringing a slight flush to her skin.

Smirking, Gwyn turned, giving him a view of her backside as she strode for the bag of ‘supplies’ she’d picked up in Velaris that morning when she’d gone shopping with the girls before she and Az had shut themselves away in their seaside cottage for the next week. Her friends had given her many raised eyebrows and knowing smirks with every purchase but mercifully refrained from any lewd comments.

She was very much looking forward to the next few days.

Az sucked in a breath, growling slightly as she bent over to rummage through one of the bags and she hid a smirk as he got an eyeful of the lingerie she’d purchased in the same cobalt blue of his siphons that had been specially designed for ‘easy access’. Rising back to standing, she showed him the items she’d selected. A bottle of scented oil and a black silk blindfold.

He raised a brow as she stopped directly in front of him, close enough to touch- if he had the use of his hands. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked him for about the fifth time that evening. She could feel his nerves through the bond, could feel the way he trembled slightly as he breathed in slow and deep and nodded.

“Yes. I don’t want to be scared of your fire, Gwyn. I know you won’t hurt me- I trust you.”

Her heart squeezed at the open, vulnerable expression in his eyes. He’d come a long way since he’d begun therapy and she knew that, while it was still difficult to be so honest and open about his fears and insecurities, he was trying. And that’s all she’d ever asked of him. Laying a hand on his cheek, she bent down and kissed him thoroughly. He sighed contentedly when she pulled back.

“Safe words?”

Smiling, he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Mercy to pause. Red to stop.”

She gave him one more quick peck before pulling away entirely. “Good.” Holding up the hand with the blindfold, she let it unfurl. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

With that word, her entire demeanor changed. Her body took on a looser, seductive quality as she leaned her weight into one hip, exaggerating her curves as her face became a mask of command. Azriel’s eyes darkened with vicious delight.

“From now on,” she said, pitching her voice slightly lower into the smoky timbre he liked. “You will address me as My Lady. Understood?”

“Yes, my lady.” His lips curled upward just the slightest bit as she nodded and sat the bottle between his spread thighs on the seat before moving around behind him once more. Slipping the blindfold over his closed eyes, Azriel obligingly tilted his head forward so she could tie the ribbon behind his head. It had been designed to fit snugly over the contours of his eyes and nose to completely block out light without putting extra pressure. He hummed appreciatively as she adjusted it into place and he moved his head around experimentally to test it out.

“You like?”

“I do. I might have to get a few more of these,” he said thoughtfully. Gwyn shook her head. Always the Spymaster.

“Good, now, sit still.” Azriel obediently stilled. Lifting a hand, one of his shadows brought the bottle of oil to her and smiled at it, smoothing a finger over it as it wrapped itself around her. “Thank you darling,” she cooed. Pouring some oil into her palm, she handed it back to the shadow. “Hold on to that for me, would you?”

It twirled- a movement she’d learned was the shadows version of nodding, and hovered to the side, ready to hand the bottle back to her when she was ready. Azriel muttered over his shoulder, “traitors.” and his shadows vibrated as though laughing.

Gwyn couldn’t help her grin.

“Relax,” she purred, spreading the oil between her hands and pushing her power into her palms to warm it up. She’d developed an immunity to heat and fire once her powers had manifested- she’d also lost her tendency to burn in the sun, much to her amusement- a fact she’d taken full advantage of during the summer, laying out on the beach behind their cottage until her skin had darkened to a warm golden hue. Azriel had nearly pouted when her freckles had begun to blend into her darker skintone and demanded she stop getting so much sun.

Because of this loss of sensitivity, she again held out a hand, allowing one of his shadows to dart forward and test the temperature. Once it twirled away in approval, she reached forward and- without warning- smoothed her hands along the arch of either wing. Azriel immediately jerked, his head dropping back in a growl. He cursed under his breath but said nothing else so she kept going, reaching as far as she could until her chest was pressed up against his back as she stretched her arms to either side.

With his head resting on her shoulder, she nipped her teeth along the lobe of his ear as her hands worked in long, slow strokes until she felt his tense muscles slowly relax under her touch. Occasionally she pushed more pulses of heat through her palm, feeling him momentarily tense then relax as she worked her way over the stiff spines of his wings and the sensitive membrane until she felt the oil dissipate. Holding out her hands, the shadow holding the bottle of oil helpfully poured more into her palm.

Azriel began to grow restless at the loss of her touch and she kept him distracted with kisses along his neck and jaw as she warmed up the oil in her hands. His breathing was slightly ragged but steady belying the throbbing erection she could see as she peered over his shoulder and down his chest. She had already planned out exactly how this night would go in her head and it would be a good long while before his poor cock would receive any attention.

Tonight would be a true test of his patience… and she was only just getting started.

Bringing her hands to his shoulders, she began working the hot oil into the muscles of his back and neck, occasionally teasing his wings and nipping at him with her lips and teeth. Slowly, methodically, she worked her way around his body massaging hot oil into his arms, chest, abs, thighs, all the way down to his bound ankles. By the time she was done, Az was a panting, writhing thing, pulling at his restraints.

“Gwyn-” he whined, yelping when she pinched the inside of his thigh. “Fuck- sorry. My Lady… fucking please stop teasing and touch me.”

“I am touching you,” she cooed, running her hands back up his thighs, skimming dangerously close to his hips which bucked towards her. His groan caught in his throat, sounding more like a whimper.

“Please.”

Gwyn hummed softly, working her hands in soft strokes moving closer and closer to his cock. “You beg so pretty for me. Do it again.”

“Please- my lady.”

Smirking, Gwyn framed his cock between her hands, smoothing them up over his hips and stomach so her thumbs brushed either side of him. “Oh- fuck.” Leaning forward, she followed the touch with her lips, running them featherlight over his length until he made that same whimpering noise. Pressing a kiss to the tip, she pulled away from him entirely, drawing a growl from him.

She swallowed a chuckle as she stood and leaned forward, threading her fingers into his hair to tilt his head back. “I’m not done playing with you yet,” she said against his lips.

A needy groan worked its way up his throat as she kissed him, pulling the blindfold off and letting it fall to the ground. “That was just the warm up, love. We haven’t even used my actual fire yet,” she flashed him a grin, holding her hand up so he could see the flames dancing over her finger tips.

He did whimper then, his gaze glued to the fire. “Check in,” she whispered. “Are you ok to keep going?”

She watched him lick his lips, swallowing nervously. His eyes never left her hand even as the flame flickered out. “What’s next?” he breathed.

In answer, she turned back to her bag and withdrew her last purchase, holding it up for him to see. A skin safe wax candle that melted at low temperatures. Perfect for the sort of game they were about to play. She watched his eyes narrow as he worked out her plan. He shifted in his seat but didn’t protest. “Want to keep going?” she asked once more.

Slowly, he nodded. “Yes.”

Smiling softly, she leaned in for another kiss. “Try to relax.” He huffed a sound of disbelief.

Holding the candle in front of her, she held one hand under it, her fire sparking to life once more. She’d bought this one specifically for several reasons, but mostly because the glass was clear, allowing them both to watch the wax melt, and because the wax changed color from white to red as it melted.

She could see Azriel’s chest moving in controlled breaths as he prepared himself and prayed this was not a massive mistake. She had figured it would be easier to ease him in using conduits that could hold the warmth of her flame without actually bringing the flame to his skin until he was more comfortable with it. Still, she knew the sting of the wax, even at a low melting point would be a shock.

Once the entire contents of the glass had turned red, she pulled her fire back in and carefully raised the jar so it hovered a few feet over his chest. “Ready?” she asked. Together, they both took a deep breath as she tipped her wrist, watching the wax pour from the spout and drizzle across the center of his chest. Azriel hissed and tensed as the wax rolled a single line down the center of his torso, slowing to a stop just above his navel.

“Okay?” she asked. The skin around where the wax had first landed was slightly reddened, but his shadows did not seem alarmed so she could only assume he was not truly burned.

Swallowing hard, Azriel nodded and she decided to let the lack of verbal response go as she tipped her wrist once more, this time moving her arm in an arc as the wax drew a red line from his right shoulder to left pec. Moving her arm slowly, she painted a zigzagging line across his upper body, watching the wax roll across the ridges of his abdomen, stopping short of his hips. The first line she’d drawn was gradually fading to white as it cooled but the rest almost looked like blood as it dripped over his skin. The picture was as arousing as it was alarming.

She checked on Azriel again and when he nodded once more that he was alright, she continued painting the rest of his body with careful lines of red across his thighs, chest and shoulders, moving around him to draw thin lines over his wings. When she was about halfway through the contents of the jar, he was covered in dripping lines of red and white, his chest heaving and skin red and covered in a sheen of sweat.

Standing back to admire her work, she tilted her head to the side and drizzled another line over his chest, making sure to catch his nipples. Azriel groaned and jerked in his restraints. “Fuck- Gods, Gw- My lady… please.”

Reaching out, she stroked a warm hand over his cheek and rather than flinching away from it, he leaned into the touch which she could only count as a win. “How are you doing, love?”

“Good” he said through clenched teeth. “But I’m dying. I need you to touch my cock. Please.”

She chuckled. “Aw, is your cock feeling neglected?” she asked with a pout. “I can fix that-” she held the candle over his hips, grinning when he immediately bucked and growled.

“Fuck- no.”

Laughing she kissed him. “Don’t worry, love. I’m not that cruel. You’re the sadist, not me.” He growled against her mouth, his shadows suddenly swarming around her, stroking her exposed skin in cool touches that made her shiver.

Tugging sharply at his hair, she hissed at them. “It’s not your turn yet.” They quickly backed off but she didn’t miss the fact that the candle was no longer in her hand. Cheeky bastards. Stroking her now free hand over his jaw, she felt a groan rumble through him at the heat before she pulled away.

“Don’t worry, we’re done with the candle and the oil for now. The only hot thing touching you from here on will be my mouth.” He moaned in relief as her kisses trailed down his neck. Reaching down, she slipped her nail under the edge of the puddle of cooled wax around one nipple and peeled it off, earning another groan as she repeated the process on the other side.

Leaning back to look down at him she mused, “We should probably clean you up first.”

This earned her a warning growl- amusing since she was the one in charge. Though they both knew that the minute she was done playing with him and it was his turn- he’d make her pay for every minute of teasing she’d just put him through. Winking, she snapped her fingers, the wax disappearing from his skin, leaving behind faint red marks in the places more recently touched by the wax that hadn’t yet faded.

“What a pretty picture you make.”

“Gwyn- My lady” he corrected when she tugged on his hair. “Please.”

“Beg again, love. You know how I like it.”

“Please,” he snarled.

“Such attitude,” she teased, lowering to her knees between his thighs. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.” Before he could growl at her again, she had his cock between her lips, sucking him into her mouth with no preamble.

“Fuck,” he shouted as he bucked into her mouth. There was no hiding her arousal now and she let him scent it as she glanced up at him beneath her lashes. She could feel he was close but, after that initial suck, made herself take her time licking and kissing and teasing him until his words were an intelligible jumble of threats and pleading.

Her hands had been massaging and stroking his thighs and stomach as she worked and she felt his whole body tense as she scraped her nails over his hips just before his climax hit and he spilled himself into her mouth. She continued to lick and kiss him as he came down, cooing quiet praises.

“You did so good for me, love. So brave. My beautiful Shadowsinger.”

The low rumble that came from his chest was the only warning she got before he snapped his bonds, wings stretching wide as his arms swung around the back of the chair, snatching her up off the floor. She squeaked as he hauled her into his lap, burying his hands in her hair and kissing her hard while his shadows worked to release his ankles.

His body tense, curling into a crouch as he tucked her against his chest. His eyes gleamed wickedly in the darkened shadow of his wings as he grinned. “My turn.”

And her vision became a world of shadows as she laughed.

#gwynriel weeks 2024 #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #gwyn and azriel #azriel and gwyn #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel smut

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suguwu · 1 year

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god of the hunt!knives au, gn!reader, reader pulls a bow on nai, brief mention of vash

minors and ageless blogs dni

"Again."

Your fingers twitch against the bow. For a moment, you keep your eyes on where your last arrow disappeared into the undergrowth, wide from its mark. You take in a deep, slow breath and turn your gaze to Nai.

He's already watching you, his eyes unfathomable, the deepest reaches of the ocean. The blue of them is softened in the afternoon light, and you think of the sun shining through a sapphire, tempering the hard edges of it.

Silence falls between you, broken only by the call of the birds singing out.

You make no movement to nock another arrow.

"I said again."

"No. I tire of failure. Do you not tire of watching me fail?"

"No. Again. Change your grip."

You pick up another arrow. Run your finger along the fletching, letting the feathers split beneath your fingertip. You set the tip of the arrow against the nocking point and draw.

You draw on Nai.

You sight along the arrow, taking in his unearthly beauty. His broad, bold form, built as only a god could be. He is made for the hunt. It's in every inch of him, the wild call of the forest coiled within his muscles, held in place by only the stillness of an unyielding patience.

You focus on one broad shoulder, aiming for the meat of it.

He raises a single elegant brow.

You draw the string back further.

He's across the glade before you can blink, one large hand wrapped around your wrist. You gasp, the air catching in your throat, and he pulls you back against his chest. Your arrow looses, singing through the air in a great arc, only to end up embedded in the lush grass.

"Your daring knows no bounds," he tells you, his voice rumbling through his chest. "Though your aim still leaves much to be desired."

He moves you like a doll, pushing you into proper position. He stays warm at your back, his chest pressing against you. He takes hold of your hands and guides them. His form cages you, boxes you in, leaves you no world except for him.

"Draw," he says, even as he does it for you, the movement smooth and practiced. You swallow as his muscles bunch against you. You can feel his slow breath upon your ear. It curls hot around you.

Together, you loose the arrow.

It sinks into the target with a low thunk, biting through the cloth and into the wood backing.

He lets go; the bow drops to the ground. Nai comes around in front of you. The sunlight halos him, a crown of divinity.

You bare your teeth at him. The smallest smile unfurls at the corner of his lips. It's a crescent moon of a thing.

The kiss he pulls you into is hard. He owns it entirely, even as you meet him with teeth and tongue. He steals the air from you; when you part, he leaves you panting.

"You were never meant to be my brother's," he tells you, viciously pleased. "There's too much fang to you."

You are beginning to think he may be right.

#bee writes tristamp #knives x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #.god of the hunt au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Helping Hand 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You rouse, not fully, but enough to sense the blurry silhouette hovering around you. You try to throw your arm up only to remind yourself of your injury. You groan and lift your lashes higher, startled as Jonathan sets a tall glass of water on a coaster. He glances over at your groggy movement.

“Ah, darling, I thought to leave this for you,” he shows two of the green painkillers as he unfurls his long fingers, “you are due. However, they do note you should have something to eat. Were you very hungry?”

Your eyes are sticky and dry. You shake your head. It’s not just the drugs or the pain, it’s that you haven’t slept in months. Not really. You wake up, go to work, and come home, caught in so much worry you can barely stay still. And your marriage had been full of restless nights.

“It’s fine,” you murmur and try to sit up. You struggle and he’s quickly to help you, shifting you up to rest against the cushions. He hands you the pills and holds onto the water.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” he offers as you toss back the pills with your good arm. You reach for the glass and he hands it over. You drain almost half before giving it back. “You must be in an awful lot of pain. And I’ll be certain you are provided paid leave–”

“I don’t need you to do all this,” you argue, “really. Just tonight and I’ll be on my way.”

“It isn’t an imposition–”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you lean back and groan.

“That isn’t what the doctor said.”

You close your eyes and sigh. You don’t have the strength to argue. Besides, what can you say? He isn’t doing anything wrong. He’s doing a lot more for you than your ex ever did.

“I’ll get a cab in the morning,” you insist.

You sense him linger, expecting a retort, but he offers nothing else. He leaves you without further instigation. Another thing Andy could never do. He always had to have the last word.

You let yourself drift back to sleep, letting go of your irritation, clinging to the dregs of drowsiness that crust in your eyes. You sink into the deep sludge of the medicated abyss. You could stay like that forever.

Dreams streak the insides of your eyelids, the sort that don’t make much sense. The sensation of floating and warmth along your arms and sides, a tickle down to your hips. Your legs move without effort. The soft roll of rich timbre, dulcet and cooing.

You wake in darkness, only the moonlight gleaming in to limn the low glass coffee table and frames mounted on the wall. You take slow, deep breaths, enjoying your calm fatigue. You could just as easily fall back asleep. Your eyes close and your head lolls to the side.

You hear a buzzing, the low rumble tweaking your nerves. A phone. Yours? It doesn’t matter.

You wait it out and sink into the pillow, your unbound arms stretching down as you feel the soft throw blanket tucked around your silhouette. You realise then your clothes have been changed; the polyester uniform polo has been replaced by a loose tee and the dark pants with a too-long pair of sweats. You don’t remember changing.

The buzzing comes again. You sneer. What time is it? You hear soft pads and the buzzing softens before ending completely.

“Hello,” the voice is deliberately low as it answers, you hear a garbled scratch from the speaker, “no, I’m afraid she is unavailable.” A pause, “well, given the time of evening, I think it should be expected– sir, I don’t care who you are, she is sleeping– ah, ah, you’ve been calling all night, I am aware but did you ever think she is busy–” He snickers, "who am I? Are you so concerned--"

Your heart flutters as you piece together the one sided conversation. It ends with a chuckle and hum. You listen to the light footfalls near and watch the shadow place down your cell phone on the glass table. The figure stands straight and looms.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mutter, “I can deal with my ex-husband.”

He takes a breath, “pardon, I didn’t mean to overstep. He is rather persistent.”

“Mhmm,” you shift onto your good shoulder, “still… none of your business.”

He’s quiet. You feel him watching you. He can’t see much but it feels as if he can.

“Do you always bite the hand that feeds?” He challenges.

You snort, “ah, now you sound like him–”

“Don’t,” he warns, an edge in his voice, “do not compare me. As little as I know of the man, I know it is an insult. Perhaps you might consider that I’ve treated you much better than he ever would or could. Accept that I am entirely different… and not so foolish as to leave a woman like yourself.”

You roll your eyes beneath the lids and exhale, “you don’t know me like that.”

“Fair, but I know what I want,” he says flippantly and turns on his heel, “a good night’s sleep may help you consider the same.”

He strides off, leaving you in perplexing silence. You listen to his footsteps ascend an unseen staircase. You keep from crinkling your forehead, not wanting to set deeper the lines already etched there.

What does he mean? What exactly does he want?

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #drabble #series #helping hand #au #bookstore au #the night manager

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spacecowboyhotch · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 25: Breeding

pairing: cowboy!din x cowgirl!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/DNI MINORS, trying for a baby, mentions of pregnancy

wc: 614

an: a little glimpse into the future of this series which i promise to return to soon!

kinktober masterlist | gardens of babylon masterlist

The two of you have talked about children before, both wanting a family, a legacy besides pain and suffering and crime. This soft life you both have introduced each other to is the perfect place to grow your love. And yet the next step still hasn’t been taken. Sex has been the same, the rehearsed pull out, you offering to take him down your throat. But, something about today is different. Something’s unfurling inside of you, begging for it.

“Din,” You breathe, your hand reaching back, fisted in his curls as his hips press restlessly against your own.

He kisses at your neck, leaving a love bite here or there as he uses his grip on your hip to pull you back to meet him thrust for thrust.

“My pretty girl. Takin’ it so good,” He croons into your ear.

He feels out of this world, every stroke of his cock stealing your breath. You’re dizzy with pleasure, overwhelmed with how much you love him. With all that you would give to and take from him. And in this moment you know, all doubts gone: you’re ready to start a family. To be completely his and tie yourself to him forever.

“Wanna take more, please,” You beg weakly, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

He can sense your emotions, and pulls you closer, slowing the pace of his hips so tenderly, “Tell me what you mean, darlin’.”

“Want you to— to give me a baby, Din.”

Din feels breathless, eager to give you what you want, to start a family but just as nervous, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please. Please, Din.”

He groans at the way you beg, it’s exactly what he’s wanted to hear, what he needs to push away the rest of the fear. He pulls out of you so quickly that you don’t have time to process, rolling you onto your back and sliding back into your warm heat in a matter of seconds. His hands grip your thighs, holding you wide open for him as he begins to fuck like he wants to send you through the mattress.

He bends down to capture your mouth with his, the bed creaking as he does. He licks into your mouth feverishly before mumbling, “Gonna fill you up, girl.”

His dark brown eyes are cloudy, full of hunger and his curls stick to his forehead from sweat. He’s beautiful is all you can think as you look up at him, his movements and words stealing your voice.

“You want my baby? Want me to plant myself so deep? Is that what you want, darlin’?”

You shudder beneath him, clenching tight around his cock that fucks in and out of you at brutal pace. You nod, still unable to talk but Din wants to hear you. He needs to.

“Say it. Say you want my child, girl.”

“D-Din,” You breathe, clutching at his shoulders as you try to gather yourself. “Want you, want your baby inside me please.”

“Good girl, that’s it. Cum for me and I’ll give you what you want honey,” He encourages, a hand slipping between your bodies so that he can rub at your clit.

At the press of his fingers you go stiff, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as you cum on his cock. And soon after Din follows you, thrusting inside you so hard that he steals your breath. He rolls over, bringing you with him, and holding you close.

“I love you, girl,” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love you too, Din. I hope it takes,” You whisper.

He grins, squeezing you in his hold, “Oh it will.”

pedro: @honeybrowne, @pastanoodles11, @campingwiththecharmings, @stevengrcnt, @lesbianhotch, @whatthefishh, @flightlessangelwings, @silversprings-mp3, @maisondenachtai

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #cowboy!din x reader #cowboy!din x cowgirl!reader #gardens of babylon #cowboy!din au #arson’s kinktober #fawktober2023 #not sfw

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amethysts-tavern · 7 months

Text

Travel day. Too many hours sitting still so, I wrote.

Gale x gn-bard!Tav.

Warnings: serious injury and potential death.

______

Our story isn’t over.

Since starting your relationship, your battle strategy has been to place yourself not far from Gale. In fact, you’re usually fighting side by side, never more than a healing word from the other.

You’d taken down a number of minions already today, but still, the battle for the Shadowlands raged on. You cast a high level dissonant whisper at Ketheric Thorm, transformed now into the massive Apostle of Myrkul, when out of the corner of your eye you see a spell hit your companion, your love, square in the chest, dark magic exploding around him, enveloping his body in a green-black haze. You hear him scream in anguish and breathlessly call out to you just before he falls, his expression a mixture of shock and pain. For a brief moment, your world caves in on you. Your eyes, wide with panic, fixate on Gale’s now lifeless body.

You feel the electricity of magic whiz past your head and you turn to see where it came from. “I got him; you get Gale,” Karlach says rushing past you. She has bought you some time. Just a few seconds is all you need.

You turn to run toward your beloved, heart racing faster than it has in recent memory. He’ll be okay. I just have to get to him. He’ll be okay. You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince yourself or praying to any god who will listen.

One then the other, your feet pound the flagstones, propelling you forward, sweat and tears stinging your eyes as you sprint. Oh gods, this looks bad. It’s far worse than you expected: his face swollen; dark bruises forming on his skin; blood soaking his robes. Your breathing becomes ragged as fear rises within you and you fall at his side.

“Gale, I’m here. You’re going to be ok. I’m here,” you say, reaching for his hand. His eyelids flutter at the sound of your voice, too weak to open them. His hand is cold and clammy in yours, even though sweat wets his hair, strands clinging to his face. Blood pools underneath him, making the ground slick and red.

One hand still in his, you reach into your bag and wrap your fingers around a scroll of parchment. Gods, let this be the right one. There’s no time for errors now. You unfurl the parchment and sigh in relief. Looking around for a safe space to land, you begin reading the spell for dimension door. Just as your tongue wraps around the last few words of the spell, another blast of magic erupts to your left, about 15 feet away, blowing rock debris at you and Gale.

You cover his body with yours, as the world blurs and blinks around you. Suddenly, you and Gale are out of the fray, hopefully for long enough for you can tend to his wounds and get him back on his feet. You reposition yourself so that your back is to the battle, shielding any more incoming assaults from hitting the wizard who holds your heart.

You reach out to the Weave, trying to grasp any strands of healing magic you can. The flow is slow to trickle in, your allotment tapped for the day. This isn’t going to be enough. He needs more healing.

Once again, your free hand reaches into your bag, fingers searching for a healing potion. Anything that will help knit Gale’s body back together. Your heart beats relentlessly as your fingertips graze potion bottle after potion bottle, not finding what you need, what he needs.

“Hang in there love, I know it’s in here,” you say, your voice cracking. “We’re going to get through this. You’re not getting out of that promised dinner date in Waterdeep this easily,” you tease, an on going joke between you two.

Finally your fingers find purchase on the bottle you need. Please let this be enough. Please let him be okay. Let him be safe. Please. You gently curl your fingers under Gale’s neck. Any other moment in time, this movement, this touch, would have led to a tender kiss. Now, you smudge your thumb over his lips, nudging them open so you can pour the red liquid into him.

Seconds then moments pass. This is taking too long. Why is this taking so long? Your panic crescendos as your eyes study his features, burning them into your mind. Seeing him like this, so battered and weak, puts an ache in your chest far worse than any battle wound ever could. The tears that had been falling intermittently now become a torrent as you openly sob over your wizard love. This can’t be it. Not like this. Our story isn’t over.

The scene behind you becomes quiet, the silence deafening. The battle is over, the enemy slain at last. Karlach approaches behind you, closely followed by Astarion, both worse for wear, bloodied and bruised but still upright. It looks like it had been a brutal fight. Without words, both comb through their packs for any remaining healing potions or scrolls they can contribute. It takes two more superior healing potions before you feel Gale’s grip tighten around your fingers and his breathing become deeper.

“Gale!” you exhale. You hadn’t even noticed that you were holding your breath. “Gods! I…” but words are lost as you witness his eyes slowly open and a weak smile curl his lips. He chuckles then whimpers, his breath expanding his bruised ribs uncomfortably. “Don’t you think that you’ll get out of meeting Mother that easily either, my love.”

You bend over the wizard, gingerly scooping him up and wrapping your arms around him. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your body relaxes as you hold your love. You’re unsure what tomorrow may bring, but today, for now, you are both safe.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #bg3 gale #gale x reader

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mothsbrightflame · 1 year

Text

CARD MY FINGERS THROUGH YOUR HAIR , LOVER BOY

synopsis! — in which you spend a quiet afternoon with inumaki

✧ toge inumaki x gn!reader

warnings — slight themes alluding to death/angst , other than that fluff , domestic intimacy, mentions of the future , toge other thinking-ish

words — 1.1k+

notes ; rewatched jjk + the watched the movie for the first time in like three days and it caused my inumaki obsession to resurfaced. I literally forgot how much I loved him, and wanted to write some sort of domestic-esk fluff with him. he deserves the world!

the afternoon was quiet.

too quiet, one might say. but you didn't mind,

really.

and neither did inumaki, who, was currently snuggled up against your chest. his arms had, at some point, found purchased and snaked their way around your waist. his grip was lazed, content- at ease, even. you could feel the occasional twitch of his fingers against the fabric of your hoodie- or his hoodie.

it was one of those rare moments, or afternoons, were the students of jujutsu high weren't in high demand, or demand in general, to tend to missions. were they weren't scurrying about exorcising curse after curse. accumulating wound after wound after scar. you couldn't help but lean forward, the bed only slightly groaning under the shift in weight, to place your warm lips upon a scar behind inumaki's ear-speaking of. he stirred only slightly at the movement, the touch, before returning to his dormant state. it made you grin softly, an exhale leaving you through your nostrils, before you rest your chin onto of his head.

his hair had the lingering scent of shampoo, freshly washed. and you couldn't help but admire just how soft his hair was. inumaki struck you as the type to have excellent hygiene, sure, but you always figured his hair would be more course to the touch. not as silky or soft, as it tickled the bridge of your noise. or to smell of lavender, as you've come to realize.

a hand came up, unfurling itself from the mass of limbs and blankets and pillows that had become you and inumaki. it crept along his nape, slow and maybe even calculated, as your buried your fingers within the short hairs located there. they grew in thickness as you crept further into his freshly-washed hair, losing yourself in his lavender scent and the softness of his hair as it filtered between your fingertips. the whole simplicity of the situation had an air of intimate domesticity to it, one that made your hair drum. and, considering where inumaki laid, surely he could feel the quickened beat of your heart.

could he feel, you wondered, how it beat for him?

the room had now occupied a dull orange hue, evidence of what was once an early afternoon, now entering a late state. the playful breeze had slowed down, no longer dancing within the silk of the curtains. however, the room had chilled slightly because of the setting sun. it reminded you that you should get up and close the window, turn on the heat, maybe, so yourself and lover boy did not freeze.

but, oddly enough, you couldn't bring it in yourself to peel yourself from inumaki's hold. to leave his natural warmth.

inumaki groaned, causing you to flick your gaze downward, eyelashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks, as he moved more than a asleep person should be. your gaze met his drowsy violet one. eyes lidded, not quiet awake.

"ah, sorry toge. I didn't mean to wake you." you managed to whisper to him, your own voice a sleepy croak. you hadn't realized how much time had passed, admiring the boy. or how tiresome you had groan.

hopefully he didn't think you were creepy.

inumaki shook his head, a dismissive gesture, to lazy to muster any words from his throat. he came to realize your hand tangled within his hair. and, selfishly, he drunk up the touch for a few heartbeats more. leaning his head back, slightly, to push against your palm. a sudden spell of chill hitting your chest where his head laid. it made your heart swell, cheeks adoring a dusky pink at his display.

"tuna mayo."

his speech was mumbled groggily, affectionate, as he brought one of his hands, which was still slung over your waist, up to grab hold of your elevated wrist. he held it with such a care, a tenderness, as if you were a glass figurine he feared to break. he shook his head, uncharacteristically loving, as he brought his lips over the center of rest. faintly, he could feel your pulse against his lips. and it caused the corners of his lips to twitch. it was ghosting, and only those who paid attention would be able to catch sight of it.

it was a reminder that you were here, with him, alive and whole. this path, this career, this life- it was cruel and unforgiving. forever changing, and forever taking.

he tried to enjoy these fleeting moments, even if they are far and few between.

he is pulled back when the lull of a coo is coaxed from your throat, his overgrown bangs pushed back and the feeling of your breath against his forehead, followed by the feeling of your lips. you whisper something to him, and he doesn't exactly catch it. moving, or rather shimmying, some he could gaze into your eyes. aligned, rather tucked under your chin. your hand finds purchase along his warm cheeks, pressed ever so gently against the apples of his cheek.

"tuna?" he questions, to repeat yourself. a breathless laugh leaves you. and, in response, you feel a slight temperature change from his cheek against your palm. "I said I'm glad, terribly glad might I add, to be here with you right now." you repeat. he nods along to this, causing you to shift and lean your forehead against his. he takes this as an opportunity to kiss you, softly. his lips move in a shy nature, even though you have kissed hundreds, maybe even thousands of times prior to this.

in the mornings, before missions, kissing wounds. kisses that display unspoken words or worries once the other is gravely injured, and by some miracle, pulls through. fleeting moments, to tease, to make the other giggle, when words fail or could not possibly convey ones inner most thoughts, and before bed.

"I could lay here all day with you." you coo, breaking the kiss.

he nods, reassuming the affectionate touch. no longer kissing, put simply resting your faces so closes your noses slotted together. the skin on skin enough for the both of you.

inumaki can't help but wander, his thoughts at least, to a world where his tongue is not bound by cursed energy. where he did not need to live in fear of his mere dialect alone being enough to bring harm to you. where he could whisper sweet nothings into your ear, as you do to him. where everything left unspoken was spoken.

but he wasn't there, he was here, with you. tucked beneath the blankets of his dorm room. and that was enough for him.

"lets go back to sleep? I don't want to leave anytime soon."

he nodded. your hand found purchase back into his hair, just as his arms caged back around your waist. he slithered back down against your chest, making your giggle, as his head became tucked under your chin. the room was blanketed in a welcome silenced. relaying on the warmth of your lover, and not a space heater, to protect you against the chill of a steady-falling night.

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