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xhoneygirlxx · 8 months

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Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader

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yolelejiju · 4 months

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DAMN, YOU WRITE SO GORGEOUS!! I'M GLAD, DUDE. ahem. I have this idea: Toji married a very young girl (she is 20 or 21 years old. Toji is 39 years old) Megumi is 18 years old. and Megumi sees her young stepmother and falls in love with her. and he, while Toji is not at home, will fuck her while she sleeps soundly. (maybe Toji will find out about this)😈🤝🫦

Omg anon I’m sorry I just saw this.

TW: somnophilia, noncon

Megumi is aged up, AFAB reader

Not proofread, WIP (maybe)

After graduating from Jujutsu High, Megumi finds it difficult to adjust to dating in adulthood. All of his friends seem to have found someone special, leaving Megumi to often find himself alone. Although he has been attracted to someone before, the problem is that the person he desires is already taken. Not only that, but this person has recently married his father.

His father has brought home many women over the years of varying ages and bodies with one thing in common; they were always somewhat loaded with cash. Most women quickly fell for his father’s looks and great figure but would eventually leave due to his gambling and poor money management…

You were different from others. You showed patience with his father and always tried to find a way to balance his gambling habits without draining your pockets. You even offered pocket money to Megumi and Tsumiki when they went out. Whenever you left, you would come back with a gift or a snack for Megumi, letting him know that you constantly think about him and dropping hints of possible romantic interest.

I mean, what was even the age gap between you two? What two maybe three years? You were closer to megumi in age than you were Toji, and these days you’re home alone more with Megumi more than anyone else.

Was it because you had feelings for him? Was there something more to the bun you gave him or the juice the two of you shared? Were you truly thirsty or did you just want to give him an indirect kiss.

You drove Megumi wild and all you did was exist. He wondered what it was about you that convinced his dad to bring you home. It has to be your patient forgiving nature.

Megumi knows you know he likes you. He knows you’ve caught him ogling your body when wearing something low cut. He knows you feel him press his groin against your lower back when he needs to “get by” you. He sees your body stiffen and your mind freeze every time. He doesn’t know if you’ve even noticed this but you never brought up the fact that you’d wake up with cum on your hand from when he’d use it to jerk himself off. You’ve even forgiven him for walking in on you while we’re in the shower.

So he’s sure you’ll forgive him for what he’s about to do now as he towers over your unconscious resting body. His father wouldn’t be back a few days and you had gotten careless leaving your bedroom door unlocked maybe even on purpose.

You lay blissfully unaware of your exposures legs and ass as your nightgown has ridden up. The way the moonlight flashed through the window on your body seemed almost as if it was calling megumi and telling him to take you there and now.

Megumi drags his hand between your legs up to your inner thigh. He takes his hand lifting your dress up to completely expose your ass all the way before gripping on of your cheek harshly to spread it. He spread your cheeks until he could see your anus start to gape and your pussy lips part. He stares in awe, everything about you truly is beautiful.

He’s dreamed of this pussy for so long, night after night as he wrapped a pair of your dirty panties around his length and jerked himself off until they were soaked in his cum. He strokes his dick thinking of what it would be like to be inside of you. To pin you down and fuck you, to breed you.

He tries to gently flip your body over onto its back, he gets a better view of your face that’s glows under the moonlight peaking through the window blinds. His eyes roam over the curves of your body. Your perky nipples are peeking through your night gown top, moving ever so slightly with every exhale.

He lines the head of his cock with your entrance, slowly pushing it in, just as the head pops through your first ring he stares at your face and watches as your brows furrow but you still remain asleep.just with him putting his tip in has him ready to cum and he doesn’t know if he’ll last much longer so he pulls himself althe way out and slams his full length inside of you. He bites his lip to hold back his own moans and watches your pained face, your eyes try to open and your body tries to wake up but your sleeping pills get the better and you fall back to sleep.

He starts to pump into you a bit faster, with shaky breaths and weak arms buckling. The sound of his balls slapping your ass echoes throughout the room complimented by the squelching of your pussy. Every time he'd pull out he'd leave just the tip of his dick in before slamming his whole length inside you, watching your body shake and breast bounce with each thrust. he knows he should pull out but every time he tries to convince himself not to cum he finds himself inching so much closer to his climax, it’s not until he sees your legs start to shake and your walls grip his length does he shove himself deep inside you and fuck into you all his cum.

He pulls himself out fighting to catch his Breath, he watches his cum spill back out of your tired used pussy and can’t help but feel himself get hard again. Maybe he’ll be kind and give your pussy time to recover and break your cute little asshole in for this round.

#tw.noncon #tw.somnophilia #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #dead dove december #tw stepcest #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw noncon #megumi x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen

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fayes-fics · 4 months

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A Welcome Intrusion

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A drunken Bridgerton in the wrong room could be the start of something...

Warnings: none really... flirtatious drunken fluff, meet-cute.

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors Note: This idea has been lingering in my "wtf is this" pile of scenes I sometimes scribble down idly. I decided to add a little polish and make it a little one-shot, as I could not see it having a natural home in my other WIPs. I also have vague plans to do the same scene setup with Anthony as a character study of how their reactions would differ. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy <3

You are sleeping fitfully - a stifling summer night makes even a thin cotton sheet too much to bear on your overheated skin - when your bedroom is rudely invaded.

In your half-awake, bleary state, you are not even certain someone is in the room at first, your back being turned to the door. Indeed, it’s only when the mattress dips that you truly startle. You freeze, facing away, completely uncertain what to do with a stranger perched on the edge of your bed.

Behind you, you hear someone undressing haphazardly, Clothing hitting the rug in soft whumps. Bile rises in your throat when the effort-filled grunt while doing so is decidedly male.

There is a triumphant noise, and then a body flops back onto the mattress with a self-satisfied chuckle. After a few beats, all is still, and you steel yourself to speak.

“Kind sir,” you murmur, not daring to move, clinging to the far side, “please leave my room.”

There is a decidedly undignified squeal of shock, more akin to a young girl, him flipping over onto all fours next to you, the movement causing you to turn over in equal surprise.

You both stare at each other as if burned; you clutch the bedding high around your neck as he pants lightly, recovering from the apparent scare you gave him, his breath carrying the rich aroma of expensive brandy. In the shaft of moonlight leaking through the curtains, you see the curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. Whoever he is, he is very pretty. Very drunk, yes. But very pretty, too.

“What in god’s name are you doing in my bed?” he demands, sounding alarmed but mildly slurred with intoxication.

“You are in my bed!” you squeak back, knuckles tightening around the sheet you hold, even as your traitorous eyes roam lower, entirely without meaning to. A slice of lithe, freckled chest muscle flexing over ribs as he draws heavy breaths makes something deep inside you quake. You quickly dart your eyes back up to his face.

“I think not! This has been my bedroom since I was three years old!” he attests with the blithe certainty alcohol provides.

Oh, so he must be a Bridgerton. That is perhaps an easy guess, seeing as you are staying at Aubrey Hall ahead of tomorrow’s midsummer Hearts and Flowers Ball.

“I don’t think they would assign a family bedroom to a guest,” you answer with a flare of sass.

“Yes, I quite agree. That’s why you should not be here,” he huffs indignantly.

“I was shown here by the head housemaid. That is my trunk there, the footmen brought in,” you point out, gesturing across the room.

He seems to ignore your argument but suddenly swings around almost violently, looking at the room.

“I don’t have that on my wall,” he frowns at a sizeable floral painting over a dresser.

“Maybe because this isn’t actually your bedroom?” you volley back with uncharacteristic brashness, likely a reaction to his presence affecting you the longer he remains.

He whips back and narrows his eyes at you. “Did Anthony put you up to this? Or Colin? Change my room around and hide you in my bed to fool me? Are you some doxy?”

“How dare you, sir!!” you blanche, horrified at his coarse language and that he could think you are any sort of woman of such low morals.

“My sincerest apologies,” he immediately looks thoroughly contrite. “You do appear far too well-bred to be such. But it still does not explain your presence in my room.”

“No, it does not,” you answer through gritted teeth, annoyance flaring at his continued erroneous insistence. “And that is because this is not your room…. dunderhead!”

The ferocity with which you spit the last word has his face morphing into one of befuddled incredulity, a single eyebrow arching.

“Sorry, that was impertinent of me,” you flush, dropping your gaze ashamed.

No!” he rushes out, “I… I liked it,” the confession apparently takes him by surprise as much as it does you, judging by his confused frown at his own words.

But then he seems to shrug and nod decisively as if agreeing with himself before he looks back to you, shifting so the light colour of his eyes catches the moonbeam.

“Who are you?” he inquires, cocking his head to the side.

“Miss y/l/n,” you respond.

“I’m Benedict…”

“...BrIdgerton,” you finish for him. “I assume, based on the fact you have a childhood bedroom here.”

He laughs; a rich, resonant sound that makes your insides jolt.

“Indeed,” he smiles, the ivory of his teeth catching the light. Again, you are drawn to how pretty he seems to be. “I am… quite intoxicated, Miss y/l/n”, he confesses, clutching a hand to his chest as if holding a doffed cap, “‘tis entirely possible I am indeed not in the correct bedroom.”

“I would venture that to be the correct assessment,” you offer with a meek smile.

“I sincerely apologise, yet again,” his face contrite as he shuffles into a kneeling position, his palms resting upturned on his thighs as if seeking forgiveness.

The problem is all your eyes can do is slide down his bare torso, lingering in places they shouldn’t—like the swell of his pectorals, the dip of his waist, and the pull of material at the junction of his thighs just a few inches above where his palms rest….

“I suppose it is only fair I let you look, seeing as I so rudely interrupted your sleep,” he comments dryly.

Your eyes jerk back to his face, met with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a knowing crooked smirk. You feel your cheeks aflame and bow your head, biting your lip, knowing you have been thoroughly caught in your ogling.

“I… I apologise, sir,” you mumble quietly, “I… I have not seen a man without a shirt before…” you admit in a whisper.

“And do you like what you see?” he teases, tone etched with beguiling menace, his mouth twisted into an intrigued pout as you dare to raise your gaze again.

“I… I…,” you falter, knowing that admitting such would be scandalous.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miss y/l/n,” he winks, “and I hope I am forgiven.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you bustle out, tugging the bedding high under your chin again, wanting desperately to conceal the flush you know is creeping over your skin with every second spent in his half-naked presence.

“I suppose I should take my leave,” he sighs, his cadence reluctant, perhaps hoping you will dispute his assessment.

“That would be… the most prudent course of action,” you nod even though your fingertips itch to grab his hand and ask him to stay for reasons you don’t entirely understand.

He slides off the bed and scoops up his discarded shirt, a moderately unsteady gait as he tugs it back onto his body.

“Goodnight, Miss y/l/n,” he bows with a touch of comedic chivalry before he takes his leave. You cannot help but stare at his shapely rear as he walks towards the door.

“Goodnight, Mr Bridgerton,” you call softly, and before you can stop yourself, more words are spilling from your lips, something about this man making you daring. “I do so hope you will offer me a dance at the ball tomorrow to make amends for this intrusion.”

Even you are astounded by your words. Benedict pauses, his hand frozen on the door handle as he turns back around slowly, his mien surprised.

“It would be my pleasure,” he rumbles after a pause, a tingle running through your being.

“Until tomorrow, Mr Bridgerton,” you offer, heart pounding.

“Until tomorrow indeed, Miss y/l/n,” the velvet of his voice tickling your skin long after the door snicks closed behind him.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaa @urfavnoirette

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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lalacliffthorne · 5 months

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🪽 if you go down 🪽

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: when a mission goes awry in the cold mountains, things take a turn, and suddenly, there's a lot more at stake than planned.

notes: look who's back!! yours truly got knocked out by a flu sent straight from hell, which meant being buried in bed and no writing for what felt likes ages. and of course when I did write again, I did not focus on other WIPs - noooo, I started this! whoops *winces*. to be fair tho, parts of this had been sitting in my ideas-folder for quite some time and when I had a sudden epiphany on how to use them, I couldn't just ignore that. especially since that epiphany was so... steamy. *grins* I'm back on my bullshit, and it's a spicy one! strap yourselves in, babes. we've got incoming drama and smut. also, even after splitting the whole thing, this is still long.

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The whole thing had been a shit show even before Azriel got shot out of the sky.

Rhys had sent the Spymaster and me into the mountains, to track down a group of soldiers gone rogue that had somehow swerved into the icy wilderness of the Night Court, raiding the small villages and leaving a trail of chaos and bodies.

It was a simple track and eliminate situation; find the group, assess the situation, move in if possible and track and wait if not.

Of course that meant nothing about it was simple.

“Damn it,”, I hissed, feeling my body tremble as a gush of ice cold wind grasped me.

I squinted, trying to make out anything in the chaos of swirling thick snowflakes that stuck to my lashes and hair. My cheeks were stinging under my heavy hood, my fingers freezing even in my thickly lined gloves, my skin icy under my winter leathers that weren't enough even with a second layer beneath.

The snowed-in wilderness of the Night Court was an icy climate to begin with, hard to navigate even in good weather.

Nearly impossible in a snowstorm.

We'd lost track of the soldiers about two or three hours ago, the quick falling fresh snow covering every track within minutes, the wind destroying every trace of footsteps and scent. Even Azriel's shadows seemed to be confused, coming up empty in the snowed-in woods, like the soldiers had buried themselves to avoid detection.

I huffed, my breath a white cloud.

Wouldn't have surprised me. They were trained to stay undetected.

This was bullshit.

Raising my head, my squinted eyes darted over the grey sky, clouds of thick whirling snow over the dark pines almost conceiling the dark figure high in the sky.

Even though it was risky, Azriel had decided that trudging through the forest without quite knowing which way to go wouldn't do. He had also ignored my protest that he'd be visible like a fucking beacon up there, no cover anywhere.

I had seen the hard glare he'd sent me before launching into the air - he knew perfectly well that it was a dangerous move. But just like me, he was irritated.

Pairing us together probably hadn't been the best idea.

The shadowsinger and I always clashed. Where Azriel was cool and quiet, I was fiery and quick to charge. Where he scowled, I grinned in challenge, where his eyes pierced, mine twinkled. He was rational and controlled to no avail, and I was empathetic and following my heart. His quiet watchfulness annoyed the crap out of me, and my smirks and cheeky taunts made his eyes flare.

I egged him on, challenged him where I could, and he usually rose to the occasion, shooting right back with sharp, well placed jabs.

It didn't help that he was breathtakingly beautiful. That his low, deep voice sent tingling shivers down my spine. It was infuriating, really; how it could make the hairs at the back of my neck rise, how him towering over me made something dip over in my chest.

It was a constant back and forth between us, which had made pairing us together for a mission a risky move even before the storm had hit. Now, we'd lost the soliders, I was freezing, Azriel's shadows were frenzied and uncoordinated, like they were responding to their master's agitation –

All in all, it was a mess.

Shivering, I slowly started to trudge through the snow again. I needed to move, or I would turn into a fucking icycle.

Screw Azriel and his stern “Stay here.”; if I did, he could take me home as an ice statue.

The snow swallowed every noise, the howling wind making listening for treacherous footsteps even harder. I moved slowly and carefully, my brown leathers blending in with the tree trunks, but still far too visible in the white forest as I squinted against the onslaught of falling snow that covered my tracks within minutes.

Gods, in this weather, those bastards could be miles away by now and we wouldn't kno-

Something shivered down my spine.

My eyes darted up, and I felt something dip over in my stomach when a wave of dread washed over me - premonition, instinct; precise and never amiss.

The strange tingle of sudden knowledge that something was about to go terribly, awfully wrong.

My instincts were something that even Azriel couldn´t scoff away.

In over 300 years, they had never once been wrong.

I swung around, drawing my swords as my gaze darted over the snowed in forest in search for anything; a trembling branch, a moving figure –

My gaze rose, and my eyes found the dark silhouette high in the sky.

Everything seemed to slow, my breath coming out in heaving clouds as something swelled under my ribs.

Then an arrow whizzed through the sky and hit the dark shape square in the chest.

My heart stopped. Simply ceased beating as I felt my eyes widen and my lips part.

In complete silence, the winged figure wavered. Then more black shapes whizzed through the air like lightning, catching and ripping through his wings, and like slow motion, Azriel tipped to the side and began to drop through the sky, freefalling towards the earth.

My limbs unfroze. A jolt went through my body as a wave of all-consuming dread crashed over me, and breathing a panicked “No.”, I rushed forward. Plunging my swords back into their sheets, I dodged a low hanging branch, then I started running.

My feet flew over the snow-covered ground, clouds of white whirling up behind me as I dashed through the trees. My heart was pounding against my ribs as something seized my chest, something like a clawed fist, squeezing tighter and tighter as I ran. Stumbling over roots and slipping on the icy ground, I dodged branches, freezing deadly cold washing through my veines as I stormed through the woods.

No.

I stumbled out from between the trees onto a stony beach, almost tripping as I skidded to a halt.

In front of me, a huge lake stretched, dark and deep and silent.

Right in it's middle, the water was sloshing, silently throwing small waves, like something big had crashed into it.

For a moment, I felt frozen, a name filling my throat, threatening to spill out, but I couldn't, couldn't scream without drawing attention, couldn't yell out the panicked cry building in my chest –

Azriel.

Panic crushed my ribs, and without a thought, without a second of consideration or planning, I darted towards the shore.

The water soaked my boots within seconds as I splashed into the lake. Icy cold water hit my feet, spattering up my legs and almost causing my muscles to lock in place. But I fought forward, holding onto the pulsing fear in my chest as I pushed my legs to move. Then I dove into the waves.

For a moment, the water seemed to freeze the blood in my veines. My lungs closed up, cold gripping my body. Then my head broke through the surface, the air hot in comparison to the icy water as I started to swim.

Something gripped my chest like an iron fist as I fought my way through the cold water. It was so deep, so dark, I couldn't see the ground, could only focus on that spot in the middle of the lake where the water was slowly beginning to calm.

Azriel had still not come up for air.

Something rose in my chest, gripped my throat, and I pushed, my skin burning with cold as I tried to swim faster, my arms and legs cleaving through the icy waves in powerful strokes. Then I sucked in a deep breath and dove under.

The water was so dark, I could barely see a few feet. Pushing myself deeper, feeling my wet clothes pull at me, my eyes darted through the depths until I spotted a huge shape floating below me. Shadows were slowly swirling around it, almost serenly, reaching out towards me like soft, gentle hands.

Something tightened violently in my chest, and I pushed myself up.

My head broke through the surface, and I gasped for air as the ice cold wind stung my wet cheeks. Breathing in deeply, I filled my lungs. Then I dove again.

The icy water enveloped me like hands pulling at me, like ghostly fingers numbing my skin as I started to swim into the deep. My body was burning as I fought my way through the stinging cold towards the far away bottom of the lake where Azriel was being gently swayed by the water, his wings stretched out and body limp, eyes closed.

My heart pulsed painfully.

Shit.

My lungs were beginning to protest as I reached out, feeling the pressure on my body pushing me as I grasped at nothingness. Then my fingers closed around Azriel's shoulders, and something dipped in my chest. I slipped an arm around his collarbones, feeling coolness sweep around me as his shadows pushed me upwards towards the light.

My chest was constricting as I fought myself upwards, black spots beginning to dance at the edge of my vision, and I tried to fight the panic, push forward -

My face broke through the surface, and I gasped for air, my fingers digging deeper into Azriel's shoulders as I hauled him up and into my chest, his face coming out of the water. The ice cold air stung my lungs and skin, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Azriel's tall, solid body completely motionless.

“Shit.” Gripping him tighter, I turned, frantically trying to catch sight of the beach. For a second, I couldn't find it, feeling panic slosh through me. Then I caught a glimpse of black stone strip in the distance.

“No, no, come on.” Shaking, I began to fight my way through the sloshing waves. Azriel's wings dragged through the water, making him even heavier and pulling him down. Water sloshed over his face, and I tried to tug him up, my eyes beginning to burn and a desperate sound breaking from my throat as my muscles protested.

Come on.

It felt like hours until I reached the shore. I was shivering uncontrollably as I pushed myself to my feet, my knees shaking as I dragged Azriel out of the water, his wings scraping over the stony ground. His shadows whispered as I dropped him, falling to my knees next to him.

“Az?!” My voice was hoarse and panicked as I pressed my fingers against his neck and felt my heart skip once before stilling.

He wasn't breathing.

“No, no, no, come on!” An ache spread through my chest, and with widening eyes, I slid forward, beginning to press my hands down on his lungs in a quick, steady rhythm, my whole body shaking as my heart pounded in my throat.

“Come on,”, I whispered frantically, “come on –“

Water sloshed out of Azriel's mouth, his body rearing up as he coughed out lake water.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I hastily pushed against his body, turning him onto his side and patting firmly onto his back.

Azriel inhaled harshly, his breath rattling. His body was shaking under my fingers, and something tightened violently in my chest when I felt him slump against me.

With shaking hands, I turned him onto his back again, leaning forward to slap his cheek. “Azriel. Azriel, fucking look at me!”

Whispering curses under my breath, I stared at the ash arrow in his chest, feeling my heart pound. I couldn't take it out, not here, not without anything to stop the bloodflow, not without risking him loosing too much blood. His wings needed healing as well, the rips in the thin membrane too big, too broad.

“Shit, shit, shit,”, I whispered hoarsely, throwing my head up to look around wildly. I couldn't stay here, or we'd freeze, and with our luck, the soldiers were heading this way, just to check on whether they had actually hit their target.

We needed shelter.

“Alright, come on.” Scrambling to get to my feet, I grabbed Azriel's wrist, his body dead weight as I slid his arm over my shoulder and dragged him to his feet. His wings slumped towards the ground, and I clenched my teeth, wrapping my arm tightly around his waist and firmly nudging my shoulder into his side.

“You're not giving up, you hear me?” My body was trembling from cold and adrenaline as I started to stumble towards the treeline, half dragging, half carrying Azriel with me. “You're going to hold on until I find a safe place; you're not going to leave me!” My voice quivered.

“I need you to glare at me and call me stupid for putting myself in danger, and I need you to be a stuck up idiot so I can kick your stupid beautiful ass for it!” My voice broke, and I cursed myself, raising my head and blinking against the stubborn burning sensation in my eyes as I breathed shakily. “You're not going to die on me; you're not going to die!”

The snow made getting forward difficult. Soon, my knees were shaking under Azriel's weight, and I could feel his rattling breath against my soaking wet hair, becoming flatter. His body shivered like mine, like it was fighting against the icy winds ripping at us, howling as the snowfall became heavier. At least it would cover our tracks and mask our scents.

I nearly stumbled over a root hidden in the snow, and something in my chest clenched.

If we didn't find shelter soon, Azriel would be dead by morning.

Something hot and flaming rose in my chest, and I clenched my teeth, adrenaline surging through my body.

No fucking way.

“Come – on,”, I pressed, gripping him tighter and fighting against the cold stinging my whole body, numbing my skin as I dragged the shadowsinger with me. “You're not getting away that easily, you hear me?”

For once, I wish I would get back a cutting, precise remark. But Azriel just rasped a flat breath, his body sinking heavier on mine. Panic washed over me, tightening its grip around my chest.

Shit.

The wind howled around us. Every crack of a branch when the weight of the snow got too heavy made my head whip around, my eyes darting frantically through the trees. But I couldn't see a soul, could only hear the sound of crunching snow under our feet and our heavy breathing. My mind was racing while I dragged Azriel through the snow.

The arrows had come from the opposite side of the lake, probably from quite a bit inside the forest. If they wanted to check if they had hit their target, they would have reached the lake by now, but the quick falling snow had masked all our tracks.

Hopefully.

They would hardly check the lake for a body, so if they didn't find one washed onto the shore, maybe we had a chance. Maybe if we found a spot to hide, wait out the storm and I got Azriel at least half back on his feet, he'd be able to transport us back to Velaris, and we could send reinforcements to find the soldiers.

For some reason, the thought wasn't nearly as satisfying as the heat twisting and raging in my chest, urging me to hunt them down myself. And sink my knives into the bastard who had dared firing those arrows.

The image kept me going, fed my numbing, chattering body with a grim, burning fire that wasn't warming but gave me something to cling to, hold onto as I staggered through the snow.

That and the male I half dragged, half carried, his body becoming heavier with the second. It caused a desperate tremble in my limbs.

There was no way I was going to lose him, no way I wasn't going to push until my legs gave out, and even then, I would curl over him if I had to, protect his far too tall body with mine, give him the last bit of warmth that was burning in my chest.

It was either the both of us leaving this stupid forest, or neither of us, because there was no way I was going to leave him. Even if his beautiful, dumb, rational ass would tell me to –

My eyes got caught on a dark structure ahead, flashing between the dark trees, almost obscured by clouds of whirling snow.

My heart tumbled, and I exhaled shakily, feeling my eyes widen as I tightened my grip around Azriel's waist and started lugging him forward.

The thrum in my chest began to quicken when I caught a glimpse at what looked like a simple wooden cabin. It was probably nothing more than one big room inside, with small windows and closed shutters, the porch covered in a thick layer of snow that the wind had blown past the protruding roof – but it made my heart rise in a wild flutter and my limbs melt from their frozen state.

The cabin looked empty, no light peaking out from the shutters, the snow high and unmarked around it. I dragged Azriel to the front door and felt my heart dip.

The door had been opened by force. It looked like someone had kicked it in, and when I leaned forward, breathing heavily, I caught a glimpse at an empty, slightly trashed inside. Judging by the thick layer of snow that had covered the entrance, the raid had happened more than a few hours ago, maybe even already last night.

My heart fluttered and jumped into my throat.

That meant the soldiers had already been this way, had probably reached the lake from this side before moving to the other to disappear deeper into the mountains.

If we were lucky, that meant they wouldn't come past here again, clearly already done searching for valuables in this place.

Unless they had a reason to, they wouldn't just backtrack and risk running into the people hunting them.

I nearly stumbled, lugging Azriel up the steps to the porch. We almost got stuck in the door, and I had to slide my arms around him to pull him through sideways to not hurt his wings. Then I looked over my shoulder, breathing heavily as I quickly scanned over the inside of the cabin.

It was one big room, with a fireplace and a bed covered in furs on the left, a big table and shelves on the right. The air smelled ice cold but stale, like no one had been here for quite some time. The cabinets had been thrown open, but nothing but cups and bowls were scattered over the floors, the bottles and jars in the shelves untouched. The sight made my heart skip high.

Maybe I had a chance of mixing something for Azriel's wounds together from that.

“Alright, come on.” Dragging Azriel towards the table, I heaved him onto the top, my limbs shaking from his weight. Minding his wings, I turned him onto his back, hastily checking his pulse before turning around and darting towards the door. Kicking most of the snow out onto the porch, I threw it shut, bolting it and using one of the chairs to block the handle just to be sure.

Now, the cabin lay in almost complete darkness. Outside, it seemed to already get darker, the thick clouds and the snow storm that only seemed to get heavier darkening the woods even quicker.

My teeth were chattering as I darted towards the shelves, my trembling fingers skimming over the bottles and tinctures, dried herbs and berries in jars. I found some candles in a drawer and matches in another, and setting them up in holders around the cabin, I lit them, my breath shaking as warm, golden light filled the room. Now that I wasn't moving, I felt the cold clinging to me even more, numbing my limbs.

We needed to warm up, quick.

But first, I had to take care of that arrow.

I had never been more thankful for Madja.

My fingers flew over the pestle and mortar I had found in the shelves, grinding up berries, mixing them with herbs, honey and fresh snow. I heard the old healer's voice in my head as I worked, explaining how to best treat wounds caused by ash arrows, how to make the paste that would help the naturally quicker healing of an Illyrian.

Provided the arrow had not injured any vital organs.

The thought made something dip over in my chest, and I threw a quick look over my shoulder to where Azriel was laying still on the big wooden table, his breathing far to flat, the white of his eyes visible under his fluttering eyes. His tanned skin was pale.

Snatching some bandages I had found in the back of a cabinet, I turned around, dropping the mortar on an empty chair next to the bandages and some clean fabrics I had found in the chest next to the bed. My fingers were trembling as I undid the buckles of Azriel'ss chest armor, the heavy leathers pierced by the arrow. His clothes were soaked and clammy like mine, and his skin was icy to the touch, so much so that I flinched.

Shit.

Breathing out, I closed my hand around the arrow, my breath shaking as I pressed my free arm down onto Azriel's chest.

“I'm so sorry,”, I whispered.

Azriel gave a gargled sound when I pulled the arrow from his chest, twisting in the spot. I tried to hold him down, squeezing my eyes shut as the arrow clattered to the floor and I hastily pressed some of the cloth onto the wound that gushed blood, though it looked a lot less than it maybe should be.

Godsdamned cold.

Hastily, I dragged Azriel's leathers off his torso, dropping the soaking material to the ground as I caught the blood with the cloth, pressing it down. My body was trembling as I waited, then I peaked at the wound - the bleeding was already slowing down.

I prayed it was Azriel's healing that caused it, not the cold shutting down his bloodflow.

Spreading the thick paste over the wound, I picked up the needle and thread I had found in a drawer and held the sharp tip into the flame of a candle before pulling the thread through it. My fingers trembled, and I needed three tries until it was looped through the needle.

Azriel twitched when I started stitching the wound together, my needlework a lot less clean than Madja's, but I was shaking too hard. My eyes darted towards Azriel's face constantly, my heart dropping deeper every time I caught a glimpse at the white of his eyes peaking out from under his lids. It felt like he was wandering somewhere between concious and unconcious, twitching and groaning softly at the pain, but too far away to open his eyes or gather anything about his surroundings.

Tying off the string, I grabbed the bandages. It took all my strength to pull Azriel up, his wings dragging him down as I wrapped the white gauze around his ribs tightly, my arms shaking.

I was sweating when I finally carefully put him down again, my cold, wet clothes sticking to my skin and making my teeth chatter.

I needed to get out of these leathers or I would catch something worse than death.

But Azriel's wings were first.

The thin membranes had been shredded by the sharp tips of the arrows, blood crusting the gaping cuts. I cleaned them, whispering trembling apologies whenever Azriel shifted and gave slurred, pained sounds that sunk their own sharp claws into my chest. Carefully stitching them together in the way Madja had showed me once, I spread more paste on the wounds, thick enough to cover them from both sides.

Hopefully, it would speed up the healing process.

Pressing my hand onto Azriel's cheek, I cursed under my breath. He was icy cold, his skin clammy.

I had to get him warmed up. Now.

My eyes darted over to the fireplace, then to the windows, and a knot formed in my throat.

Even though it was getting darker by the minute, the smoke of a fire could still give away our location, even with the storm.

I turned back towards the shadowsinger, who's hair was curling with dampness and melted snow, his torso bare, his wet pants clinging to his legs.

I needed to get him out of those; he didn't have a chance of warming up when he was still wearing the damp, clammy clothes.

Which meant stripping him.

Even though I was chattering with cold, I felt heat bleed into my cheeks.

“Gods, get yourself together,”, I mumbled to myself, moving forward and beginning to unbuckle the sheaths wrapped around Azriel's thighs. I tried to avoid looking at him; his chiselled torso, the smooth curve and width of his shoulders, the ink swirling over the planes of his chest, tried to not think about the rising feeling in my chest that came to life whenever his amber eyes settled on me for too long.

Letting the daggers slip to the floor, I unlaced Azriel's boots, cursing softly at how stiff my fingers were. I could barely feel them as I tugged the black leather off before turning around, blaming the cold for my trembling limbs and for my inability to unbuckle his belt on the first try. Then, stubbornly not staring at his bare skin, I tugged his pants down his legs. They were soaked like the rest of his clothes, making it difficult to tug the thick winter leathers off his skin.

Dropping the pants, I felt the heat in my cheeks deepen and quickly averted my eyes, sliding my arm around Azriel's waist and grunting softly when I maneuvered him off the table.

“Alright, come on.” Staggering slightly, I tried to ignore the weight of his muscled body as it leaned heavily onto mine, the feeling of his harsh breath, his lips brushing over my temple and his skin smooth and cool against my fingers.

It proved impossible.

Somehow, I managed to get Azriel under the covers. Turning him onto his sides so his wings weren't in the way, I tucked him under the blanket and threw the furs over, shivering as I turned around and spread out his dripping wet, icy cold clothes over the chairs. My own were beginning to feel like they'd been frozen by the snow and wind, and when I caught a look at myself in one of the windows, I felt my heart drop at the sight of my slightly blue lips.

Crap.

Quickly throwing a quick look over to where Azriel was laying on the bed, buried under the furs, still breathing too harsh, too uneven, I turned around again, feeling something thump harshly against my ribs. Then I swallowed and quickly started peeling off my own clothes.

My leathers stuck to my skin, completely wet and clammy, and I hissed in frustration as I kicked off my thick pants. Suddenly, I realised how cold the air in the cabin really was, making my limbs shake even more as I rubbed my stiff fingers over my thighs before quickly spreading my clothes over the rest of the furniture. Then I hesitated, looking down at the bra and top I was wearing over my underwear, both sticking to my skin, making goosebumps rise on my body.

I needed to get them off, but if I did – I was practically completely bare.

For a second, I was still, just breathing quickly and feeling myself shiver. Then I cursed softly and quickly shed both the undershirt and the bra, throwing them over the backrest of a chair. Crossing my arms quickly over my chest to cover myself, I turned around, my eyes getting caught on Azriel's frame. He had started to shiver violently.

I felt the overwhelming urge to grab one or two of the furs and curl up on the armchair by the cold fireplace. But I could feel the icy cold seep through me, now settled in my bones, could feel myself grow number.

Staring at Azriel's trembling form for another second, I whispered a curse under my breath, then I darted towards the bed and slid under the blankets.

Immediately, my body started shivering more. It felt like now that I wasn't moving anymore, the cold invaded every inch of me, causing my teeth to chatter loudly as I curled up on my side under the heavy furs, my damp hair sticking to my bare skin as I stared at Azriel's face in the warm flicker of the candles. He looked too pale, his breath too labored.

Swallowing, I scooted closer under the blankets until I could feel his body, just shy of touching my curled up form. Then I forced myself to relax, to stop the shivering, focusing on Azriel´s face, the crunch of his brows, like even unconcious, he was fighting, angry.

The thought made my lips twitch softly.

Curling up tighter, I buried myself in the sheets and breathed out. Suddenly, the exhaustion crashed over my like a wave, my limbs burning not only from the cold but from dragging Azriel through the water and the snow. My eyes drooped, and I had to fight to keep them open, clenching my jaw.

I couldn't fall asleep, I had to stay awake enough to listen for anything. To, for once, keep watch over Azriel, in case anything, anyone found us after all.

But the woods outside were quiet except for the howling wind.

I dozed off a few times. I didn't fall into a deep sleep, my body too cold, my heart beating too quickly, my ears too sensitive to any sound coming from beyond the windows, where the world became darker and darker. But the exhaustion soon overwhelmed me, and my body took what minutes of shut-eye it could pry from the grip of my will. The rest of the time, I stared at Azriel's face in the light of the candles, something thrumming heavily against my ribs.

Please be okay.

I was slowly slipping away into a deeper sleep when the mattress jerked. My eyes flew open, and my heart skipped into my throat when I found another pair staring right at me.

Azriel's eyes were blown as his gaze slowly tracked over the sliver of my bare shoulders and collarbones visible from where the furs had slipped from his abrupt waking. Then his throat worked, and I could see the moment he seemed to tear himself out of it, could see the confused but soft, slightly feverish expression bleed from his eyes as his iris narrowed in and darkness settled over his face.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, and Azriel tore his gaze up, eyes flaring as they pierced into mine.

He didn't need to open his mouth for me to know exactly what was going on in his head.

Explain. Now.

I breathed out and dropped my head onto the pillow, mumbling: “Calm down.” Curling tighter into the furs wrapping around me and trying to keep my teeth from chattering, I grumbled: “This wasn't exactly how I imagined this whole thing going either.” Trying to ignore the heat bleeding into my cheek, I watched him, my voice becoming softer when I mumbled: “You fell into a lake when they shot you down.”

Azriel blinked, and his eyes found my hair that was still damp and cold, sticking to my neck. His pupils constricted, and something flared in his eyes.

“You pulled me out.”

His voice sent a tingle down my spine, low and deep, so deep, hoarse with exhaustion but cutting, his eyes blazing with something I didn't recognize.

I shrugged softly, pulling the blankets tighter around me as I sent him a smile that wasn't half as mischievous as usual.

“Yes, well, I thought about how much you would hate me doing that and just couldn't resist. You know how I like to push your buttons.”

Azriel's jaw twitched, and something burning grew in his eyes as they pierced mine.

I felt my lips twitch in a weak attempt at a cheeky smirk. “That would be the moment to thank me for saving your life.”

Azriel's eyes narrowed, and I could see the muscles in his cheeks shift. “You exposed yourself, left yourself defenseless. That was reckless and stupid.”

His voice was cutting, icy, but I just stared at him, feeling something hot bloom in my chest as my heart skipped high against my ribs.

I blinked and felt my lips curve softly.

“You're welcome.” I turned to slide of the mattress, shivering as my bare feet hit the cold floors. Wrapping the furs around me, I dropped onto my knees next to the fireplace, reaching out to close my fingers around my pants. The leather was icy cold and wet.

“Damn it,”, I whispered under my breath.

I looked over my shoulder and found Azriel's eyes on my face, something raging in his iris, something I didn't recognize.

“What?” My gaze flickered over his face, something skipping softly against my ribs. Then I blinked and looked him over, feeling my lips curve into a cheeky smirk. “Don´t worry. I didn't look anywhere important.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's eyes dip towards his bare chest, and if I hadn't known any better, I thought I saw a faint blush spread over his cheekbones. Then he tore his eyes away and clenched his jaw.

“You left yourself completely defenseless.”

I turned back around, staring at the fireplace as I felt the smile bleed off my face.

“Yes, well, I wasn't exactly thinking,”, I mumbled, something tightening harshly in my chest.

Even from the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's gaze flare incredulously, his deep voice slicing through me.

“Not thinking gets you killed.”

I swallowed. My heart thrummed against my ribs as the moment I had watched Azriel fall flashed before my eyes.

“What if the soldiers had been at the lake, what if they'd gotten there by the time you came out of the water?” Azriel's jaw clenched, his voice tight, unrelenting. “You didn't think, and it could have cost you your life –“

“What do you care; if I hadn't made it, you wouldn't have either, but we did; what's your problem?!” I turned to stare at him, my breath hitching as an ache spread through my chest, and shadows whipped up the walls as Azriel growled.

“How can you be so reckless when it comes to your own fucking life –“

Something under my ribs shattered.

“I thought I'd lost you!!”

My desperate scream caused Azriel to fall silent like I had slapped him across the face.

I stared at him, breathing heavily, my body trembling as I barely fought the burning feeling of tears behind my eyes.

“You asshole!” My voice was shaking even though I didn't want it to, a bright aching feeling burning in my chest, flaring like that flicker in Azriel's eyes.

“I saw you fall, and then that stupid lake and I thought –“ My voice broke as I stared at him, an all-consuming pain growing under my ribs.

“You were drowning.” My hands trembled, my throat closing up tight as I blinked against the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks. “I wasn't thinking about anything but that, and that there was no fucking way I was going to let it happen! And you're a fucking jerk for berating me for it, just because what I did doesn't fit with your strategic expectations, or because you think it was reckless, when I thought I had lost you!” My next breath shuddered as I stared at him, my limbs trembling.

Azriel's throat worked as his eyes pierced mine, but for once, he was completely silent.

“You think that it was stupid? That it was reckless and emotional?” I felt heat grow in my chest; familiar, angry heat, and I scrambled to push myself to my feet, glaring at him as I trembled.

“Well, I don't give a shit about what you think! I would have dragged you through that stupid snowstorm until my legs gave out, even if it meant freezing in the end!” I balled my hands into fists. “There's no fucking way I would have ever left you!” Blinking against the tears gathering in my eyes, I swallowed, staring at him.

“Because that's the next thing you would have said, right?” I breathed a bitter smile, something tightening harshly in my chest. “That the rational thing would have been for me to leave you behind? That there was no way I could have carried you until I found a village, let alone all the way back to Velaris? That pulling you out of that lake and taking you with me meant leaving myself defenseless, to those bastards and that fucking cold out there, and that I should have never done that?” I fought the way my breath hitched and tears pricked my eyes as I glared at him. “I don't give a shit about all of that. Because I don't give up. I don't give people up, and I sure as hell never leave anyone behind, especially –“ I cut myself off, biting the inside of my cheek.

Especially not you.

I swallowed and curled my fingers into the fur wrapped around me as I returned Azriel's blazing stare, even as something closed around my throat, causing my voice to sound hoarse as I mumbled: “I would have rather frozen to death with you than leave you behind.”

Azriel blinked again. His jaw worked as his eyes flickered over my face, and something flashed through them. But I turned away before I could find out what it was, my chest tightening as I angrily wiped away the tear that rolled over my cheek, treacherous and letting on that maybe, I gave quite a shit after all.

“Our clothes are still too wet.” My voice was thick and a little shaky, but I refused to look at Azriel as I stared at my pants before turning my eyes towards the windows, behind which, the woods were completely dark.

“Without warmth, it's going to take too long for them to dry. And your body's too focused on keeping you from freezing to properly heal you, so you need to warm up.” I started pulling logs from the stack of firewood next to the fireplace, mumbling hoarsely: “Let's hope it's dark and windy enough that no one can trace the smoke.”

I could feel Azriel's eyes on me as I built and stoked the fire, my fingers trembling not from the cold. Something was constricting in my chest, rage towards this stubborn male swirling under my ribs, mixed with something aching and fluttering that made my heart quiver.

I stoked the fire until I could feel the warmth of the flames on my face. Shivering, I wrapped the furs tighter around me.

Just the thought of being close to Azriel caused something to tighten harshly in my chest. But I could feel cold crawl up from the floorboards, and the desire not to freeze was stronger than the one that told me stay away from the male on the bed.

Pushing myself back onto my feet, I turned around and, without looking at Azriel, slid back under the covers. Turning my back towards the shadowsinger, I curled up, my limbs trembling with cold and something else that had closed tightly around my chest.

I could feel Azriel shift behind me, slowly moving back under the blankets. I tucked myself in tighter, my teeth chattering softly.

The flames in the fireplace started to crackle slowly. I stared at their light dancing over the floorboards, tried to ignore the presence right behind me. But I couldn't ignore his scent, night chilled cedar mixed with the metallic scent of blood, and how it made something twinge in my chest. My mind kept looping back towards the fact that if I shifted back just a few inches, my body would press into hi-

“You're shaking.”

The low vibration of Azriel's voice trickled over my spine. It was deep and clipped, and I pressed my lips together.

“Yes, well, I'm cold.” I tried to scowl, but my voice sounded weak, not at all angry or sharp like I had hoped it would be.

Swallowing, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls. I could feel Azriel's stare piercing the back of my head, could sense the tension in his jaw and body –

The mattress shifted, then I felt something brush against my back.

I froze.

Scarred, calloused skin gently grazed over my side, and my breath hitched, getting caught in my throat.

Azriel's fingers curled against my skin, like he was hesitating, thinking about pulling back, or not quite in control of his own body – then his hand splayed over my skin, slowly sliding down onto my stomach, and carefully, Azriel pulled me backwards into his chest.

My heart dipped. Then it stilled.

I could feel Azriel shift behind me, could feel the tension rippling through every part of his muscles. His hand slid over my stomach, skin cold against mine as he slowly wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed me into his chest.

Suddenly, something twinged between my legs and in my heart.

I could feel every ridge of his torso in my back. Every curve of muscle, every inch of smooth, icy cold skin pressing against mine. His legs came up to thread through mine, and his tall, solid body slowly curled around me until there was no place we weren't touching.

Swallowing harshly, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls, my breath fluttering in my throat and my heart pounding against my ribs. I could feel every shift of muscle in Azriel's body, could feel the tension in his chest as he tightened his grip around me. Then he carefully dropped his forehead against the back of my head and gently tapped his fingers against my ribs six times.

My breath hitched, and my heart stilled.

The tapping thing was something between Mor and I, to communicate when were in the same room but not able to talk to each other. I hadn´t even realised Azriel knew about it, but - of course he did.

He always knew.

One tap meant I'm here, two taps danger, three taps you okay?, four taps need a distraction, five taps for they're lying, and six taps -

Something rose in my chest in a wild flutter.

I´m sorry.

I swallowed and stared at the wall.

Azriel's hand was still for a second, and I could feel the tension ripple through him. Then his fingers gently tapped against my skin again.

One, two, three. Four, five, six, seven.

Behind you.

My heart swelled in a weak, trapped giggle.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then I slowly twisted around under the blankets, and my breath hitched in my throat when my eyes found Azriel's only a few inches away.

My head settled on the pillow. The fire crackled as I swallowed softly and stared, and Azriel's iris shifted as he stared back. His eyes looked less stormy, glinting like molten caramel in the warm flickering lights as they pierced mine.

Slowly, his fingers brushed over my bare spine.

I barely suppressed a shudder, my lips parting, and Azriel's eyes dropped. His pupils expanded, and something flared in his eyes.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled, his voice quiet and rough: “After pulling me out of the lake, did you call me a stuck up idiot?”

My breath hitched in my throat, and my eyes darted up to meet his as they widened a little. But Azriel just stared at me, and behind that strange blazing fire in his eyes, it almost looked like they were twinkling a little.

“No,”, I whispered and blinked, and just for a second, the corner of Azriel's lips twitched. His gaze pierced mine.

“You also called me beautiful.”

I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs when I mumbled back hoarsely: “No, I called you stupid.”

Azriel's eyes flared, the gold in his iris melting together as his gaze dragged over my face.

Swallowing, I tore my eyes away before the fluttering thing in my chest could break free. Dropping my head a little, I reached out before I could stop myself and carefully brushed my fingers over the bandage wrapped around Azriel's ribs.

A deep sound broke from his throat, and my breath got caught in my throat as my eyes darted up again, just in time to see a muscle in Azriel's jaw twitch, his pupils blown as he stared at me.

“You're freezing.” Something dipped over in my chest at the rasp in his tight voice, and I swallowed and stared up at him.

“I could think of some ways to warm up.”

It was supposed to be a cheeky taunt. But it came out breathless when I felt Azriel's scarred hand brush slowly over my bare skin.

Azriel's fingers stilled. There was something in his eyes as he stared at me, that strange blazing flicker I had seen before, something raging and all-consuming that seeped through his carefully crafted walls.

A muscle in Azriel's jaw shifted as his gaze dragged over my face. Then his hand brushed up over my ribs, rising from under the blanket.

His rough skin against my neck made me shiver, a tremble running down my spine that suddenly had nothing to do with being cold when his fingers slipped into my hair. They threaded through the strands, and I felt my next breath shudder when his thumb slowly traced over the side of my throat.

Azriel's eyes moved slowly over mine, and that look in his eyes flashed, grew stronger. Then he lightly tugged me forward, and when I followed, my breathing growing shorter, he dipped his head.

His nose brushed against mine, and I reached up like reflex, my fingers trembling a little when I wrapped them around Azriel's wrist as his hot breath hit my lips.

Azriel stilled, fingers still threaded through my hair, lips nothing but a breath away from mine. I thought I could feel his lashes on my cheeks, the heat of his pulse under my fingers. Something was thrumming under my ribs, growing stronger with every second.

I sucked in a soft, trembling breath when I realised he was waiting.

The thrum in my chest grew unbearable, and I moved, dipping my head and pressing my lips slowly against Azriel's jaw.

His fingers curled into my hair, muscles shifting under my hand wrapped around his wrist, and I thought I felt something rumble in his chest.

I slid lower. My lips traced over the shape of his throat, feeling it work under the featherlight press of a kiss against the side of it. My teeth grazed over his skin, and Azriel's fingers scraped lightly over my scalp when a grunt escaped his chest that sounded a little strangled.

Dipping my head, I carefully pressed my lips onto the curve where his neck met his shoulder, and my heart rose, flaring.

I hadn't known the taste of someone's skin could do this – make you feel drunk off of it, cause a rush to fill your body, make your skin tingle and heart race.

Tracing the shape of Azriel's collarbone with my lips, I left a slow, careful kiss on his cool, inked skin before following the shape of his chest. My hand slid lower, and I felt the thrum of his heart under my palm, quick and erratic. It made my own swerve sharply, and Azriel's breath shuddered when I dragged my lips over his smooth skin.

Looking up at him through my lashes, I felt something jolt right down into my lower stomach, my own breath hitching and something hot rushing through my chest when my eyes met Azriel's, fixed onto my face, the amber flickering in the light of the fire, pupils blown. His jaw worked, and my spine tingled.

Slowly sliding down his body, I traced my lips over his chest. Leaving slow, careful kisses on the swirls of his tattoo, the silver lines of faded scars, I felt his muscles shift and flex under my featherlight touches. My fingers brushed over the bandage wrapped around his ribs, and a sound left Azriel that caused my heart to tilt over when I carefully pressed a kiss onto the spot where the arrow had pierced him.

Somewhere buried deep in my head, the thought stirred that this didn't feel like it was just about warming each other up.

Not with the way Azriel was staring down at me, something flaring in his darkened eyes, his breath out of rhythm, his body reacting to the smallest brush of my fingers with a shudder like it was the answer to a long lost prayer.

My lips traced over the hard ridges of Azriel's stomach. Following the lines, I felt his muscles shift and clench beneath his smooth skin when I pressed my lips slowly against his side, my tongue tracing lightly over his skin, and Azriel's hand fell out of my hair to grab onto the sheets. His knuckles turned white as I slid down, and something curled and tightened in my lower stomach when I traced my lips over the sharp line disappearing into his underwear.

Azriel's hips bucked upward, and a low, pressed grunt left him that caused tingling warmth to wash over me, my stomach twisting.

I gently nudged my nose against his skin, then I raised my head, and something rose in my chest in a wild flutter when my eyes met Azriel's, his jaw locked as his gaze burned into mine until something closed around my throat and I barely kept myself from swallowing.

Slowly, I shifted. Then I slung my leg over his waist.

Azriel's pupils seemed to grow darker, and without looking away, feeling that steady thrum in my throat, I slid down his body.

The sheets and furs went with me, but Azriel didn't seem to notice. His eyes were transfixed on my face. Then my hand slid under his waistband, and his expression slipped, jaw going lax and eyes fluttering when I wrapped my fingers around his cock.

Slowly pulling him out of his pants, I felt something dip and plunge in my lower stomach at how hard he already was. Swallowing, I carefully ran my thumb over his tip, coaxing a low curse from him. Then I looked up through my lashes and sent Azriel a small, cheeky smile.

“Tell me if I'm doing something you don't like.”

The shadowsinger's eyes flashed as a choked sound left him, and I dipped my head and wrapped my lips around him.

“Fuck.”

A breathy grunt broke from Azriel's chest, his head fell back as his hands fisted the sheets, and I gently ran my tongue over the underside of his cock before sucking him into my mouth.

Incoherent sounds spilled from Azriel's lips, deep grunts and rough muttered curses that made my stomach twinge as I started to stroke him slowly. His blazing eyes were dragging over my face, the muscles in his stomach twitching as my hand worked what my lips couldn't reach, my tongue running over the underside of his cock as I took him deep, beginning to suck.

“That's it.” Azriel's hands fisting the sheets trembled as he grunted breathlessly, his throat working and eyes squeezing shut for a second like he was trying to reign himself in, but the words stumbled past his lips, deep and gravelly.

“Fuck, just like that.”

My heart swerved sharply as I drank him in, his cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled and body heaving the longer I worked him. I twisted my hand a little, and he grunted, head falling back and hips bucking. I could feel him pulse, could tell he was getting closer, closer to that edge, his breath shuddering.

Azriel groaned. His fingers slid into my hair, threading through the strands and beginning to guide me, like he just couldn't help himself anymore, had to touch me, his grip tight as his flashing eyes followed my movements. My teeth grazed the underside of his head, and Azriel grunted, his voice strangled.

“If you don't stop I'll -“

I looked up at him through my lashes and sent him a crooked, cheeky smile that made him break off with a grunt. Then I swirled my tongue around his tip and sucked him into my mouth, and Azriel unravelled with a sound so deep, it vibrated through my very bones.

His head fell back, his back arched and his hips bucked, and Azriel came with a shudder. His load hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed it all, the salty taste causing my eyes to flutter.

Sucking gently for a few more seconds, I slowly let him go, gently brushing my thumb over his base, and my eyes met Azriel's, flickering amber in the firelight, his skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat as his burning eyes dragged over my face. His grip tightened in my hair, and he tugged, pulling me up his body.

My breath hitched when our noses brushed. Azriel's eyes looked like molten gold in the light, the flecks all swimming together in his hazel iris as it flickered over my face, and I felt my heart rise, trembling –

“Get on your back.”

I needed a second to realize the meaning behind the words mumbled against my skin, so deep and low and like a tremble running down my spine.

A wave of heat washed through me, my stomach twisted tight, and I blinked and pulled back my head, feeling my brows crunch incredulously.

“You're still hurt. No way; you're staying like this.”

Azriel's eyes darkened.

“Now.”

“No.” I glared back, which really, was ridiculous, because just the thought of him between my legs caused the pulsing feeling in my stomach to intensify tenfold, and I knew he could sense it, saw it in the way his nostrils flared and eyes flashed, but –

Azriel's hands closed around my sides, sliding my underwear down my legs; he groaned deep in his chest, then rough scarred fingers dug into my skin, right where my thighs and hips met, and my heart dipped and fell when Azriel dragged me up, up his torso, up over his shoulders.

“Wha-“ My breath got caught in my throat, and I hastily grabbed onto the headboard to not loose my balance, my eyes widening when I realised what he was doing.

My gaze whipped down; I tried to lift my hips, and Azriel wrapped his arms over my thighs and dragged me down, his piercing eyes meeting mine.

“No; I'm too –“

Azriel's tongue sliced through my folds, and I jolted and whimpered a string of trembling curses, my hips bucking down onto his face as my stomach twisted and my spine melted into burning, glowing matter.

Azriel groaned, the vibration travelling through me, and I dug my fingers into the headboard, feeling my heart tip over and insides clench.

“Shit – I –“ I tried to twist away in a weak attempt of trying to keep my weight off of him, but Azriel dragged me down further, not seeming to give a fuck about suffocating as he licked a broad stripe through my folds. His eyes flutterered, and he gave another grunt.

“Perfect.”

The low mumble rose up my spine, so deep and gravelly, my insides tightened around nothing. My breath shuddered, my brows crunched as my lips parted, and Azriel buried his face between my legs.

Whimpered curses spilled from my throat, senseless, blending into each other as my limbs trembled and Azriel's tongue traced the shape of me, mapping it like he was trying to commit to memory. Then he lazily circled my clit, and my lips parted, brows crunching as my hips bucked down in reflex and a whimper built in my throat.

My eyes flew down, and I could feel myself clench when my eyes met Azriel's, burning and flaring as he dipped his chin.

My breath hitched in a whine, and my hips spasmed when Azriel licked over my clit and sucked. His grip tightened, and the shadowsinger hummed, his nose nudging against my skin as his hazy, hooded eyes tracked over my face, molten like gold. My left hand flew down to bury in his dark hair as he ground my hips down onto his face, and I whimpered.

My body shook, the reason now far from freezing as my spine shuddered and hips bucked and waves of heat washed over me as I felt the world tip. Then Azriel's tongue slid into me, and my insides shuddered.

A breathless sound left me, I clenched, and Azriel groaned, tugging me down, and my head fell back as his tongue started to lazily dip in and out of me, circling, lapping until my body melted into a puddle. My fingers dug into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp as my hips rolled down without me being able to control it, but Azriel just gave a deep sound that travelled through me, his heavily hooded eyes fixed hungrily onto my face.

A knot formed in my lower stomach. Slowly, it build, twisting and churning as Azriel carried me towards something that would probably make me lose every last bit of control over my body, sucking on my clit, his eyes trained onto my face, coaxing every little reaction out of me, from my trembling fingers to my eyes rolling and head falling back, my thighs shaking next to his head –

Azriel's hand shifted, sliding down over my stomach. His tongue slid into me, and his thumb found my clit, circling tightly.

The world exploded, shattering as heat washed over me and the knot inside me bursted into a thousand stars. My hips spasmed, my back arching as my body tightened and loud, trembling noises left me that caused my fingers to curl and chest to tighten, my spine bleeding into nothingness, waves of blinding pleasure racking through me and causing my body to shudder and tremble. My hips jerked, and something bloomed in my stomach when Azriel groaned against me.

It took what felt like a lifetime until the sensations slowly dispersed and my spine stopped shuddering, and yet, Azriel was still lapping lazily at me, causing my hips twitch and a soft sound to break from my throat.

Slowly sliding my fingers out of his hair, my joints weak from clutching onto the silky strands, I weakly held onto the headboard and lifted my hips. My thighs trembled lightly, and Azriel's hands slid up to close around my hips, steading me, his head tipping back to stare up at me as I slowly started crawling down his body.

When I was hovering above his chest, I dropped my gaze. My heart rose into my throat, something dipped under my ribs, and I stilled.

Azriel's face was only an inch away. His iris was nothing but a ring of golden flecks around his blown pupils, his skin no longer pale but slightly flushed, the crease between his brows almost gone even as his jaw flexed, his gaze dragging over my face, and his lips -

My chest tightened as my breath hitched and I stared at his swollen, glistening lips. My hips bucked back as my spine shuddered, and Azriel's lids fluttered heavily, eyes blazing as his hand slipped onto my back, pushing me down, down until –

My nose grazed his, and something turned over in my chest when my own scent hit my lungs.

A deep sound rumbled through the shadowsinger's chest, his hand slid up to cup the side of my neck, and he dragged me down.

His breath ghosted over my lips, and my own hitched.

Azriel's nose softly nudged against mine, his thumb slowly tracing the curve of my throat. I could feel him, the warmth radiating from his skin, could feel his scent invading my senses and causing my heart to shudder, could feel something building in my chest as my fingers trembled.

Azriel's lips brushed over mine. His grip tightened, a strangled sound built in his chest, and he tugged me forward and crashed his lips onto mine.

My heart faltered. Then the whole world stilled.

Azriel kissed me like he'd been starving.

A breathless whimper tore from my throat, my fingers dug into the pillows, and Azriel groaned softly. His fingers slid further into my hair, then his lips parted mine and his tongue slid into my mouth.

My breath faltered as the ground seemed to sway. I clutched onto the sheets, a desperate sound building in my chest, and Azriel's hand curled into my hair as he kissed me harder, more feverish. He was kissing me like he'd been wondering what it would be like for centuries and now that he'd had a taste - nothing else would ever be enough.

The thought made something pang painfully in my chest, and I whimpered, my body curving into his as I settled on his hips, my hands sliding to the sides of his neck, tipping his head, and Azriel's breath shuddered in a deep moan as his thumb brushed over the side of my throat. His tongue swirled lazily around mine, then his teeth caught my bottom lip, and a soft whimper broke from my throat as something clenched in my stomach.

Azriel's grip tightened, dragging me down towards him, his nose brushing past mine. I could feel something travel through his hands that felt like a tremble. Then he pulled me in with a hoarse noise and kissed me again, deep and hard and feverish as his fingers curled into my hair, and something in my chest rose in a wild flutter.

part II

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @icey--stars @azriels-mate2 @ailyr92

#azriel #az #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel/reader #azriel smut #az imagine #az x reader #az/reader #acotar x reader #acowar #acomaf #acotar #lalacliffthorne

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Slightly longer chapter today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is still when you finish the last of your tidying. Unlike weeks before, your day is not over. You creep to the bottom of the stairs and listen for any sign of life before you ascend. You haven't heard any comings or goings but you tend to zero in when you're focused.

You get to the top and pause again. As you pass the study, you hear nothing. You don't know exactly where Mr. Laufeyson retreated but you assume that would be most logical. You gently turn the door handle on the library door and ease the door on its hinges, keeping it from making a noise.

You're met with the setting evening light as you enter, the drapes still wide open. You shut the door with a subtle click and cross the room, peering out onto the garden below. It's even more beautiful from up here. You lean on the window ledge as you admire how the shadows nestle around the hedges and pool at the feet of the grand marble statue at the very centre. In the dimming hue, the gazebo resembles the crumbling Coliseum.

A muffled thump shakes you from your reverie. You quickly back up, tugging the curtains closed as you hide yourself away from the beauty. There is just as much to be admired within; from the gilt frames to the straight spines and polished table. Every piece is worthy of coveting.

You go to the door and flip the light switch. The room remains dim and you turn in confusion to the gray room. You hear footsteps from down the hall and low tones, though no words are clear enough to discern. From what you can glean, the conversation is not a friendly one.

You shrug off the conflict without and go to the middle of the room and peer up at the lifeless glass shade around the dangling bulb. You don't understand. You put your hands on your hips and squint. The little hanging chain with the crystal at its tail catches your eye. Aha. But you can't reach that high.

You glance around as the staircase groans. You go to the writing desk and grab the chair from behind it. You carry it over to the light and step onto the seat. Even up high, you're on your toes grabbing for the chain. You finally grasp the gem and tug, the light erupting from within the multicoloured cage. As your vision is tinted by the new rays, the door that adjoins with the study swings inward. You shift on the seat and face Mr. Laufeyson as you drop your arm.

You are not used to looking down on him. He is intimidating even from above. You bat your lashes and bend, gripping the back of the chair as you climb down and dust it off with your hand. You offer an apologetic nod and go to lift it. He is quicker than you as he takes it easily by the back and carries it without effort to the desk. He shoves it under and keeps a grasp on the backrest as he faces you, lifting his chin.

"I hired you to keep this house in order, though it seems you are intent on quite the opposite," he accuses.

Your brows wrinkle just a little. You didn't mean to. You only came to do your job. You want to say as much; his brother was already here and you didn't say a word. You were good.

"I know my brother let himself in," he continues, "he does tend to do as he pleases. He does too much and says much more," Laufeyson's brow arches thoughtfully, "I wonder what he said to you."

You put your hands behind you and clasp them tight to keep from squirming. As he stands behind the desk, you're reminded of an interrogation room, the likes of which you only ever saw on one of your father's crime dramas. You swallow and scrunch your lips.

"I'm asking, so speak," he urges.

"Nothing, Mr. Laufeyson. Well... er, he told me his name then asked for mine, but I didn't tell him. I swear. I didn't know what to say so I..." you falter, embarrassed and stare at the shelf behind him, "so I ran away. I said nothing at all."

He takes a heavy breath and lets it out through his nose, "nothing?"

"Nothing, Mr. Laufeyson," you avow.

"But why not?"

"Pardon?"

"Why not? He is a charming man, at least, many seem to believe so," he sniffs, "so why wouldn't you entertain him?"

You shake your head. You don't know what he wants to hear. You know less what to say.

"I'm not lying--"

"I'm not saying you are. I didn't ask it," he inserts, "why would you not say anything? Are you shy, hm? Perhaps you find him attractive? He is objectively within accepted beauty standards--"

"No, Mr. Laufeyson," you breathe, "I am not."

"So you are dutiful? A loyal servant? And you recalled exactly as I warned you," he says with a keen lilt, "you do listen so well, that it may be I have no right to doubt you."

You keep your lips straight, fighting for an ounce of composure. You can't tell if he does believe you or not.

"And yet," he slithers around the desk, "there are things I've said which you do not seem to have heard," he nears and stops before you, swiping his finger up and down, "your attire is... lacking."

You look down at the baggy shirt and brown slacks. You touch the rough wool and avert your gaze to the floor.

"Mr. Laufeyson, I haven't had time to get anything new--"

"I didn't ask. I'm telling you. For the last time," he punctuates the last few words.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you appease and look at his collar, focusing on the knot of his tie, just by the lump in his throat.

"If my brother appears again in my absence, you will call me at once. Perhaps, you should review the current security in place as well," he states, "if there is a next time, I wouldn't want him to get further than the gate."

"I will add it to the list, Mr. Laufeyson."

He scoffs and steps around you, his sleeve brushing you, just a little. Enough to inspire a shiver. He continues his snakish path to the door and marks his departure with the snap of the door against the frame. You flinch and bite down on your cheeks. You didn't do anything wrong, though it seems, there is no right when it comes to Mr. Laufeyson.

🧹

On Tuesday, you arrive to an empty house. Mr. Laufeyson does not appear throughout the day. There is no evidence of his presence and your own has little enough effect. You continue down the list, reviewing the landscaping and the security, and a few smaller tasks.

There is one point that worries you. Mr. Laufeyson provided an email on the matter; a collection of upcoming obligations. His work, which was still mysterious to you, as many things about him are, and socials, underlined for emphasis. There was a whole set of to-dos for these.

A chef, Corissa, and staff to serve. Invitations to be sent to a list of contacts. The in-house preparations, a question mark beside a name, Ronnie? It isn’t for another two weeks but you should get things in order sooner than later.

In the desolation, you work easily through the goals you set yourself. The landscapers will remain, Corissa will be there not only for the party but to deliver the meal plan and prepped ingredients. And Ronnie, the decorator, will be there to ready the house for guests. You leave at your typical time feeling accomplished.

A similarly empty abode awaits you elsewhere. Your father is as he ever is. Smoking and grumbling. You bring him the supper you made ahead of the week and he snarls about his appetite and the feeding tube that’s been gone for over a week now. You eat beside him but he doesn’t do more than flip through the channels and complain about what the world is coming to.

Later, you find him dozing in the same spot. You tidy up around him, mindful not to bother him, and draw a blanket over him. He doesn’t stir but the ragged noise of his breathing rises and falls in the low din of the television. You leave that on but put the volume on low. He would not be happy if you tried to get him to bed.

Wednesday. A bad day. Your day off. You wake up and have your tea patiently. You have things to do but are in no hurry. You find your father away from his usual spot. He’s at the front door, watching across the street as a moving truck sits in front of the apartment building. He mutters about grimy people.

You sidle past him, telling him you're off to grab some groceries and a few bits and bobs, asking if he needs anything. It’s the same answer as always; smokes. You frown.

“Dad, you know I don’t like buying those–”

“Get outta here then,” his voice scratches, “I’ll pay that twerp Cody to go get me a carton.”

“It’s only… the doctor–”

“Fucking charlatan,” he growls.

You give up. You give a sheepish smile as your eyes drift to the open flap of the mailbox. You reach inside and retrieve a single envelope. You wave it at your father and promise you’ll be back in a few hours. He’s already walking away. The door slams in farewell.

You head off, past the bus stop and along the path behind the laundromat. There’s a thrift shop not far from the small convenience store where you get your staples. You walk with your head down as you tear open the envelope, the hospital’s stamp in the corner. You unfold it and the paper almost drops along with your heart.

You stagger and stop short. You stare at the bottom line; total. Six figures. That’s a lifetime of debt. How could you ever hope to pay it off? Yet, you wouldn’t trade your father for those red digits.

You shudder and look around. With no witnesses to your dismay, you tuck away the invoice in your back pocket and carry on. First, some work clothes, then a few canned goods and dairy to pad out what’s left in the cupboards.

You can manage the little things, even with that big thing weighing you down.

🧹

Thursday comes with a sort of trance. You spent the night sleepless as the invoice taunted you from the top drawer of your dresser. You still have to call and figure out a payment plan. The blurb at the bottom of the bill gives you hope you might be able to figure this out.

You don’t wake because you don’t sleep. You just get up and get on with the day. You dress in one of the outfits you budgeted out at the thrift store. Even that expense, if necessary, if it could be considered an investment for your job, knots in your stomach.

You tried to keep in mind the images you googled as you shopped and picked out professional pieces. Lamb gray slacks and a white blouse striped with light blue. You tuck the tails in and check yourself in the mirror. You can only see to your shoulders. You should’ve found a belt too. Maybe next time.

You slip your feet into a pair of flats, uncomfortable next to your usual sneakers, and grab the square leather bag you aired out overnight. You left your cleaning kit at Mr. Laufeyson’s since you won’t need it anywhere else. You put your lunch in your work bag, your phones, and your coin purse, along with the ledger. It still feels rather empty.

The bus putters uptown and drops you at your usual stop. You walk up to the iron gate and fish out your work phone to check the new code. As you punch in the six numbers, you hesitate. Another six figures nip at your thoughts. Even six days a week can’t balance the debt.

You break the threshold of Mr. Laufeyson’s paradise, a stark contrast to your own meagre retreat, and you fall into the pattern of your days there. You put the code into the back door and enter. You’re once more met by a vacant interior.

It’s a cleaning day. You wonder if maybe you should’ve brought a change of clothes but you don’t worry too long. You put your leather bag in the closet, you’ll bring it up with you after the clean is done. You take your kit, put on shoe covers and gloves, and head upstairs. The first floor was done on Monday and today will be the second.

You start at one end of the hall. You hum under your breath, not loud enough to be heard by anyone but yourself. You saw a pair of wireless earbuds yesterday but talked yourself out of the purchase. You couldn’t connect them to the flip and it didn’t feel right to use them with your work phone. Besides, you can’t spare the price.

You knock on each door before you enter. You’ve learned better of just barging in since Thor’s unexpected arrival. Your progress is slow and tedious, though it calms your nerves. The manual tasks that keep your hands busy keeps your mind less than.

You tap on the last door, awaiting an answer. You haven’t heard or seen Mr. Laufeyson. You thought there was a buzzing a few moments ago but it faded into the lull. With no answer, you enter. There isn’t much you do in the main bedroom, a quick dust, you make sure the bed is tidy, and clear away the clutter. You’ll return with the vacuum when you get to the floors.

There’s a fresh scent in the air. Jasmine? Something light? You’re not very good at discerning scent. You search for a source of the rich scent. Maybe an open window letting in the luxurious garden aromas. Nope, curtains drawn, windows firmly shut.

As you fold the corner of the sheet neatly at the top and cover it with the pillows, your elbow knocks against the night table. Something falls and you step back in surprise. Your tunnel vision slowly starts to recede. You look around for what you knocked over but can’t see anything out of place.

You finish putting the pillows in their place, the bed made, and get down to your knees. You lean forward on your hands, bringing your cheek almost to the floorboards as you peer first under the nightstand then beneath the bed. You see a small shape just underneath. You reach for it, grasping the watch as its glass face presses coolly to your palm.

As you rescind your arm, a click freezes you in place. The unknown fragrance grows strong and a dampness tinges the air. You blink and stare under the bed, across to the other side as the door against the opposite wall pushes inward. The en suite bathroom. Oh gosh.

You see a bare of bare feet and the pieces connect in your head. The buzzing, the scent, all of it. Mr. Laufeyson must have been in the shower and now he’s…

He sighs and groans, stopping in place as you can only see his feet. He cannot see you either. In that moment, you have a choice. To be honest and make him aware or to hide and pretend it isn’t happening. Your heart beats as you stay paralysed on the floor.

The tail of a towel drops around his feet before he lifts it again. Oh. He’s… you can’t even think it!

You reach your arm out again, lowering down flat, and lift yourself over the floor as you slide seamlessly under the bed. You hold your breath as you struggle not to make a sound. Loki’s only sniffs and groans override anything that might give you away.

The closet rolls open and he clucks thoughtfully. Your eyes widen then you squeeze them shut as you cover your mouth. You can’t believe this is happening. What would he think if he found you there?

You watch his feet as he steps into a pair of briefs, then his pants. Anymore of him is obscured by the bed frame. You’re thankful for that. Fabric flutters as he buttons on a shirt. He nears the bed and you bite your lip. He sits to put on his socks, the mattress dipping under him.

When he gets up again, he wanders around, and you hear another wisp of fabric. He hums and nears the bed. He stops right beside you and taps the night table. You hear the drawer open and close. You squeeze the watch in your hand.

Another deep breath as he strides away, “curse… must be…”

The door swings open and his footfalls march decisively down the hallway. You don’t move right away. You’re terrified to come out.

What if he comes back and catches you? Worse, what if he thinks you stole his watch? No, you were only trying to help. That never seems to turn out the way you intend, does it?

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #au #maid au #dirty work #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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moonlight-prose · 7 months

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✧ THE FOUNTAIN OF YOU ✧

a/n: i am not responsible for how filthy this fic. it just kept getting dirtier the longer i typed and now it's just porn very little plot. this is my first ever phoenix fic! i've had one in my wips for months now, but never actually felt great enough to complete it. so now that this is out and posted, i might actually go back and look at the old wip. for now i hope y'all enjoy!

day fourteen - nipple play + scissoring | kinktober 2023

summary: "somehow in the midst of chaos in the middle of that bar, you found her. the missing puzzle piece of your half empty heart."

word count: 2.2k+

pairing: natasha 'phoenix' trace x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, nipple play, scissoring, cumplay sort of, cum eating, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, dom!phoenix.

“Tell me what you like and I’ll do it to you.”

Words spoken against your ear in the midst of chaos. You came to the bar in the hopes of having a drink to dispel the day of all its stress. A small moment to yourself before you went home to an empty apartment and an even emptier bedroom. The interaction hadn’t started out as anything at first. You ran into her—literally—as you were trying to squeeze through the crowd to find a seat. And she led you to a stool before depositing a beer in front of you with a wink.

That was that. You watched her walk away to join a group of people wearing the exact same uniform as her.

Until it was her turn to find something to drink, and she found herself leaning against the bar, talking to you. The hand nearest to your body found itself curled around your hip to keep you close as someone shoved behind you. Her face tilted close in order for you to hear her better over the noise.

And that’s when she said it. The words that practically burned a hole in your lungs, leaving you gasping for air.

Not a minute passed before you were dragging her in by the collar and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. All in the hopes that you weren’t reading this situation wrong. She had smiled, cupped the nape of your neck, and tugged you back in. Her tongue sliding along your bottom lip with enough eagerness to have your body melting against hers. Your soft moan being swallowed and traded in for a happy hum.

Twenty minutes later you found yourself in the passenger seat of her car, a hand between your thighs—shoving up the skirt you wore for work.

“Fuck you’re wet,” she murmured, fingers sliding between your folds and gathering the sticky wetness that practically drenched the seat of her car. A grin formed on her lips, eyes darkening by the second.

“F-Fuck—”

“You like that baby?” She sunk a finger into you, pulling a soft moan from your lips, your body shifting to give her better access.

Nodding, you did what you could to make the angle easier for her, aching to feel another finger slip into you. But Phoenix was a master at patience. You had yet to find that out, only grasping at what she’d told you in the bar. Small pieces of her life and the job she led when she wasn’t taking the time to enjoy her life. Although from what you gathered she could barely enjoy it, only given a certain amount of time before she was called back again.

She curled another finger into you, a smile blooming on her face when you keened, head falling back into the seat and eyes fluttering shut. The top of your shirt was unbuttoned, bra pushed away, and as she rolled to a stop in the middle of a desolate street, she leaned over. Taking your nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. The squelch of her fingers pumping into you echoed in the small space of her car, but that only made everything build so much more.

You could feel the sensation you normally had to fight for. The sparks that ran down your spine, curling low in your stomach, and suddenly you found yourself right there. On the edge of cumming all over her hand.

Grasping onto her neck, you kept her mouth to your breast, a high whine ripping from your throat. Your hips bucked into her hand, clit catching on the edge of her palm. It was too much. Nearly overwhelming you as she continued to work you over the edge, rising quickly to capture your mouth in a debauched kiss as you broke. It rolled through you like a fucking tidal wave. Nearly sending you crashing into her body. A cry bounced off the car’s interior, body trembling when she continued to stimulate you.

Yet her kiss was different. Soft and inviting. As if she was placing a promise there on your smeared lipstick—something that told you she wasn’t done with you yet.

“We’re almost there,” she breathed against your lips, sliding her fingers out of you and pulling out a soft whine. “You wanna be a good girl for me and just sit here looking pretty?”

You nodded, eyes wide and lips parted as she placed her fingers in her mouth, moaning at the taste. The cool air felt strange against your exposed cunt; eliciting a feeling you’d never experienced before. You liked this. Being bare for her to see, but also whoever might catch a quick view in a passing car. It made you feel wanted, as if you were finally desired in a way no one had made you feel before.

Phoenix caught the sheepish look on your face, eyes glimmering with desire. The grin spread across her face again, eyes tracing down the curve of your breasts as they hung against your body. The shiny slick that was smeared on the inside of your thigh—continuing to leak steadily on the seat of her car.

“Look at you sweetie.” She pressed a hand to your thigh, nail tracing the skin softly until you shivered. “Do you like being exposed for me?”

Your gaze snapped to her, heat spreading beneath the skin of your cheeks. “I— Yeah.”

She rounded a corner into a small street of houses. Well in all honesty they could barely be construed as houses. They were more cottages than anything else. But you could recognize the blue car from the bar parked across the street where she stopped—her place resembling each one.

Although on a closer inspection you realized her home stood out just a bit more. The flowers in the front were a beautiful array of pinks and reds. Comfortable chairs were set out on the porch, each one with a pillow—a table in between that seemed to be used for morning coffees. Her home looked warm. Soft in all the ways she was, yet still holding onto that aspect of safety she exuded the second you ran into her.

“C’mon,” she said softly, tapping your thigh and drawing up the top of your shirt. “I’ll make you a coffee.”

“You don’t have to,” you replied, pulling down your skirt as you got out, keeping yourself covered as she led you up the front walkway.

She shrugged, opening the door with ease and discarding her jacket on a hook. “I want to.”

So you found yourself curled on her couch, a cup of coffee in your hands, and a soft song playing in the background. You spoke to her about your life. Your job and how it was slowly starting to grate on your nerves. The dreams you wished you had pursued instead of a boring cubicle that kept you hidden from the world. And she returned in kind. Telling you about what being a pilot for the Navy was actually like. Especially when it came down to being a woman in the Navy.

The clock ticked on the mantle, several hours passing, yet you found that time moved far too quickly around her. You wanted to stay here. To wake up and enjoy coffee on the porch, to see what the remainder of her house looked like. But what you were there for stared at you in the face—the want from earlier slowly seeping back into your veins.

“How’s the coffee?” she asked, already knowing that the drink had gone cold in favor of you staring at the way her top was unbuttoned. The curve of her breasts peeking out.

“Hm?” You jolted back to the present, mouth watering and eyes slightly dazed. “Oh. It’s delicious.”

“It’s cold.”

That all too delicious heat returned once more, spreading up your neck. “I was…um…”

She smiled, pulling the mug out of your hands and depositing it on the table—her other hand curling around your jaw. “You’re really cute. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Even if you wanted to answer, the words were stuck on your tongue as she moved closer. Her lips finding yours in the dimly lit room. Swallowing your soft whine with her tongue that slid deeply against yours. Her other hand gripped your hip, tugging you forward until you had no choice but to curl your leg around her. Finding yourself in her lap, her hands tugging at your top to get it off. You had come to the conclusion that she liked to toy with your nipples. Her teeth latched onto one again, laving her hot tongue along it until you were grinding against her.

“Oh f-fuck,” you choked, gripping onto the back of her neck. “Wanna taste you.”

She grinned against your skin. “You will baby. You will. I’ve got something in mind first though.”

Nodding before she could tell you what it was, you let her push you off the couch as her hands grasped for your skirt. The way she stripped you was slow. Soft touches and whispered compliments of how pretty you were. All of it mixing to make your head spin, your chest heaving with the breaths that left you quicker than you could take them in. She consumed you with her eyes, made you feel everything with her hands, and yet…you wanted more.

You wanted to sear tonight in your mind. Forever remembering the way she had taken you apart so delicately.

She led you to the floor, her clothes now discarded in the same pile as yours—her mouth devouring you in a kiss that made your body burn. Fingers slid down your hips, tracing the soft lines that stretched across your hips, and dipped her tongue along yours. Tasting the coffee off your tongue. Phoenix found she preferred the bitterness from your mouth over her mug—the flavor sensual and rich.

“Spread your legs for me baby,” she murmured against your jaw.

You listened to her without hesitation, allowing her to completely take the reins—putting your mind at ease for the first time all week. It felt euphoric to be this willing for her. To let her mold you however she wanted. There was something about her that pulled at your body—calling to you in a way it hadn’t before. Hovering over you, she watched with parted lips and red stained cheeks as she slid into position. Her cunt pressing over yours until her slick coated the top of your mound.

A depraved grunt echoed in her chest, nails digging into your thigh as she watched your face contort in pleasure. A gasp ripping from your chest when she moved. Her hips grinding over yours perfectly. You felt her clit, felt the way her cunt spread just right causing her slick to mix with yours.

“So pretty for me,” she whispered, cupping your breast and running a thumb over your nipple. She moved higher, cupping your chin in her soft palm, thumb now moving to press against your bottom lip—easing your mouth open. “Should I ride this perfect mouth next?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Please.”

“I’ll cum in your mouth next baby.” It was a promise. Not a question. You knew that the second the words hit your ears and it made another wave of heat rush over your body.

“N-Natasha—” You shuddered when she dragged along your cunt, her hand curving around your hip to hold you in place.

A moan left her lips, forehead scrunched and eyes focused on the way you practically leaked for her—coating her inner thighs. “Gonna cum over this pussy first though.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“You want that sweetie?”

You nodded, gaze snapping back to her as she leaned down, her lips wrapping around your nipple. She rode you even harder, her hips colliding with yours and suddenly you found you could hardly breathe. The burning thrill of pleasure now overtaking your entire body. When her teeth latched onto your nipple, breath hot against your skin, you felt everything fall into place. The feelings she had wrought from you now laid bare along the rug. Just as you were.

They told you that this was more. That you would wake up to see her again.

Her voice moaning your name against your body undid your very being. The last drag of her clit against yours ripped free a broken shout as you fell over the edge. It was powerful. Nearly sending you into a state of dizziness, but you let it consume you completely—drowning you in the scent of her perfume, the feel of her body against yours.

She followed soon after, keeping her promise. Cumming with a shout, she pressed her lips to yours, her his jerking over you until it became too much. But you felt the wetness against your cunt. The way it trailed down your ass and into the carpet. No doubt staining the color.

“Where the fuck have you been all this time?” she breathed against your lips, a smile being pressed into her small kiss.

You felt a flutter go through your chest, as she moved, pulling you into her lap until your knees were pressed to the floor. “Waiting for you I guess.”

“No more waiting,” she replied, hands sliding down to your ass and lips dragging along your jaw. “Stay.”

You could picture it in your mind. Sitting on that porch with her, drinking coffee in the mornings. Conversations that turned into flirting that turned into so much more. Somehow in the midst of chaos in the middle of that bar, you found her. The missing puzzle piece of your half empty heart.

#natasha 'phoenix' trace #natasha trace x f!reader #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace x you #natasha trace x y/n #phoenix x reader #phoenix x y/n #natasha trace smut #top gun: maverick #my writing #kinktober 2023

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— earbuds, my love + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — a single train ride has you sharing your headphones and your feelings with your long time crush, yoichi isagi.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, mutual pining, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1K.

⭑ notes — third fic queued for aali's away time, one of my many isagi wips! he's literally ceo of friends to lovers ngl !! i love him so bad... enjoy my lurvs - m.list ✩

“this song makes me feel like i’m falling in love with someone.”

isagi glances up at you from his phone, no longer shuffling the playlist that you’re both listening to. you’re looking out of the window, your feet propped up on the back of the seat in front of you, your head resting on your closed fist. you miss the way he flushes red.

“do you want to keep listening to it then?” he mumbles softly, thumb hovering over the slip button and his voice just barely above a whisper. you almost don’t hear you despite the fact that you’re sharing headphones and only have one ear-bud in while he takes the other.

this time, you tilt your head away from the window and the scenery passing by to lock eyes with your childhood best friend. “no, s’okay,” you say, your voice equally as low. “you can change it if you’d like.” your facial expression is tranquil, the swell of your lips pressed into an appreciative smile and your eyes sparkling with the sunlight that glitters outside of your moving train.

isagi’s nerves quickly get the better of him and he breaks eye contact, swallowing thickly before looking away with his own smile (mostly for himself).

“i think we’ll keep listening to it.”

you’re both on the train from the bustling city of tokyo back to the tiny town you both grew up in. with the off-season approaching, japan’s beloved striker had finally managed to get some time away from the blue lock team to visit his parents, and you were off on your university’s allotted spring-break.

this was the first time, in what felt like forever, that your calendars were synced up.

your bond with isagi had always been strong — from the very first moment you’d met, back in middle school when he’d kicked a soccer ball straight into your lunch and then instantly offered to buy you a new one. impossible to separate, you were joined at the hip right up until he left for blue lock. these days, your paths rarely cross and while isagi’s career in soccer bloomed like you always knew it would — you went the more traditional route of life and found passion in your own university degree.

after some moments of quiet, aside from the children crying in their mother’s arms, teenagers gossiping on their way home from junior high and the calls from the attendant manning the snack cart — isagi speaks up, shyly. “who…who would you be in love with? yanno…because of this song…”

“some guy, i’ve known him for years.”

“does he know…how you feel about him?” you shake your head and isagi presses you again. “have you tried telling him?”

“gods no, yoichi!” you wave him off almost too quickly — curling in on yourself like a highschool girl handing her crush a confession letter or chocolates on white day. perhaps because this is exactly like that. you’ve liked him, loved him, for as long as you can remember. he makes your skin hot and your thoughts a mess and when isagi’s nearby you hardly remember who you are.

and he hardly realises how lovesick you’ve been for him over the years. it would be too embarrassing to admit that you have a raging crush on one of japan’s favourite athletes.

“why not?”

“because…if he felt the same he would have noticed by now.” you answer, trying to shut down the conversation. “i’ve been obvious with my feelings. the ball’s been in his court for a while.”

“maybe he’s just oblivious.” isagi keeps going and in the cramped space of your train seats you feel hot under the collar — your nerves shaking under the pressure.

you’re given a brief moment of relief when the attendant on the snack cart stops for the couple seated opposite you. they seem happy and in love, it makes your heart twist.

the train jolts, pushing the attendant into isagi, who then topples into you — invading your space once more, causing heat to build up under your skin.

“h-he’s a way too smart for that.”

“maybe…he’s unsure? maybe he doesn’t understand your signals?”

the song you’re listening too changes as you pull into the next station.

“or maybe he doesn’t love me, yoichi!” you snap, turning your head away so fast that the ear-bud slips from your ears and the wires are left dangling between the warmth of isagi’s body and your own. you try to sit still, fighting off burning, frustrated tears — lucky that no one’s heard your outburst over the busy ambience of the train. “believe me, i’ve held out hope for it.”

“but i do love you.” he snaps back, grabbing you by the wrist so that you’re forced to look at him. isagi’s eyes are wide and deep, swirling in their hypnotising shade of blue with an emotion you don’t recognise seeing on him. love. “maybe you’re the one who’s dumb enough not to have noticed. maybe i’ve been too shy or too caught up with soccer to say so. but i love you. i want that song to make you feel like you’re in love with me.”

“o-oh…yoichi i—“ your eyes widen, then soften all at once and you feel yourself melting fast — as if all of your dreams have come true. “i don’t know what to say…”

the tips of his ears are bright pink, the hue blooming across his cheeks like they’re roses in bloom. yoichi chews on his lower lip nervously before shoving the right bud of the headphones back into your ear. “just say you like me back ‘nd we’ll leave it at that for now, okay?” he mumbles like a teenager, very much unlike the confident, cocky isagi who everyone fears on the pitch.

wisps of a grin tug at the corners of your lips as you reach out and grab his larger hand with yours — giving it a squeeze. “alright then, yoichi,” you say, leaning over to kiss the warmth of his cheeks. “i like you too.” his eyes go wide.

this is all silly and new for the both of you — having been in love with one another for years without saying. you’ll have a lot to talk about once you reach his parents’ house, how you’ll make this work with his soccer career and your new life in the big city, what you want this to be, who you’ll tell. but for now you try not to dwell on it, letting your head flop to isagi’s shoulder and his on top of yours, sharing headphones and listening to songs that made him fall in love with you.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi fluff #yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you #yoichi isagi fluff #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock fluff #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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diazsdimples · 11 days

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Several Sentence Sunday!!

Bringing you sentences from two wips today because I am Indecisive™️ and am enjoying these both. Tagged by @theotherbuckley

First snippet is from my beloved Frostpunk AU. Eddie is purely vibing here.

Sometimes it feels like Eddie’s being moved, his body shifting from one side to another without him moving a muscle. It hurts when this happens, a sharp pain driving into his side as though a knife has been plunged through his ribs. He tries to take in a sharp breath but there’s something blocking his throat. He tries to lift a hand to claw at his mouth, to remove the obstruction, but his arms are leaden and won’t move. He whines, as much as he can with something down his throat, and he can feel his heartrate picking up. Suddenly, a heavy warmth envelops his hand, and gentle, low words penetrate through the haze, swimming through his brain until that’s all he focuses on. “It’s okay, Edmundo, you’re safe. Christopher is safe. I’m – I mean – we’re here.” It’s Eddie, not Edmundo, he wants to say. He wants nothing more than to hear this nice, calming Voice speak his name properly. He wants to hold onto the warmth in his hand so it never leaves, but it always does. Sometimes he thinks he hears his son’s voice. Not words, but small sounds that get picked up and wafted towards him. It’s usually when that Voice is nearby, mumbling soft words that tell stories of princesses and pirates and swordfights and giants, and he hears a small hum or sigh that he just knows is Christopher. He’d be able to pick out his son’s voice from a mile away. It gives him strength, knowing Christopher is close and being cared for. Sometimes he dimly wonders if the Voice and the Angel are the same, a guardian staying around and caring for him and his son as if that’s what it was put on this earth to do. Maybe he can get better, if only to see his son again and to hear the Voice and see the face it belongs to. So, Eddie drifts as his body heals, cuts knitting back together, his lungs slowly gaining strength until he feels he could take a breath without feels as though they could collapse. His heart beats steadier and with less pain. He doesn’t feel cold anymore, especially not when that heavy warmth settles on his forehead, his cheek, or around his fingers. Maybe, just maybe everything will be okay. Maybe he succeeded. Maybe he got himself and his son to safety. And if that’s true, he just hopes Shannon can forgive him.

The other snippet is from this fic that I'm co-writing with @theotherbuckley. Please enjoy some spice.

“How do you want to do this?” Eddie asks as he mouths at the length of Buck’s neck. “Think you can take me?” He says it like a challenge, one Buck seems more than happy to rise to. He draws himself to his full height — fuck, Eddie had forgotten that Buck’s got a couple of inches on him — and looks Eddie dead in the eyes. The blue of his irises are barely visible as his pupils blow, hunger burning deep as he surveys Eddie’s face as if taking inventory of his features. Buck leans forwards, his whole persona exuding cocky confidence, and he brushes his lips tantalisingly against Eddie’s, smirking as Eddie lets out a shaky breath. “Every last inch.” The last of Eddie’s resolve crumbles, and he surges forward, kissing Buck hard and dirty as he pulls him away from the door. They stumble across the room, tripping over loose items of clothing that are strewn across the floor - Buck 1.0 clearly isn’t the best housekeeper. The minute the backs of Buck’s legs hit the bed he falls backwards, dragging Eddie down with him. Eddie braces himself with an arm to the side of Buck’s head, his other hand cupping Buck’s jaw as he slowly, meticulously takes him apart with his lips. Buck groans into Eddie’s mouth and grabs a fistfull of his ass, pulling Eddie on top of him a little more so that Eddie’s whole body blankets his. Eddie slots a leg between Buck’s and smirks into the kiss as Buck grinds needily against his thigh, letting out high-pitched whines with each small thrust. “You need it badly, hmm?” Eddie hums as he breaks the kiss and begins to mouth along Buck’s jaw, down his neck, until he latches onto his collarbone. Buck nods vigorously and whines again as Eddie bites a mark into the tender skin.

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan

@bibabyboybuck @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @cal-daisies-and-briars

@exhuastedpigeon @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @hermscat @worriedbisexual

@thekristen999 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @dangerpronebuddie

@houseofevanbuckley @daemonsrhaenyra @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13

@rainbow-nerdss @smilingbuckley @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998

@jehdogg @ohlookitsthearkhamknight @revenge-of-the-assbutt @likeamollusconarock @this-is-moony-lovegood

@morethanoneside @random-trash-animal @woogigi @redpheonixwitch @having-conniptions

(lmk if you want to be added/removed)

#james writes #frostpunk au #purple fic #buddie wip #buddie fics #buddie #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck

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bunnymermaidwrites · 3 months

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Not a villain song tag game

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the not a villain song tag game! (Does this exist already? If yes, then excuse my ignorance) (Am i allowed to make a tag game when my blog is 2 days old? Hopefully!)

Rules: Pick a song for the antagonist/ villain of your WIP, but the twist is that it can't be obvious that it is a song for the villain. As in: if someone listened to the song and didn't know it was about the villain, they couldn't guess!

I'll start:

For Odette: Cost of the Crown by Mercedes Lackey

Ah, yes, Odette!

"A friend, a love, a child--- it matters not, I know indeed

That I must sacrifice them all if there should be the need

They know and they forgive me--- doing more than I require,

With willing minds and loving hearts go straight to grasp the fire."

I'll tag some people who said they wanted to be tagged in @athenswrites tag game masterpost (but only if you want to do it):

@overdecorated-furniture @willtheweaver @pandoras-comment-box @anyablackwood

And I know I didn't see you in that post, but just in case: @illarian-rambling

And obviously, anyone who sees this is free to play!

#wip: from up high to down low #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #tag game

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msbigredmachine · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday - You Again (Roman Reigns/OC)

A/N: Thanks to @empressdede for the tag! I appreciate it! I know it's Thursday not Wednesday lol, sorry I'm late!

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His familiar scent reached her nose, triggering memories of the years he had tortured her in school. Fuck, he still smelled the same. She stiffened at the reminder, fighting her body's response to his closeness. She had very little room to move seated the way she was, but she tried to put a few inches between their bodies.

His hard chest. His big hands encircling her upper arms, holding her in place, trapping her against his body.

Her breath caught, torn between crying out for help and giving in to the heavy arousal that flooded her body.

She felt his mouth close to her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Evie," he breathed. Joe's low, raspy voice uttering her name set off flutters throughout her tummy and heat spread throughout her body. Her skin broke out into goosebumps and her nipples hardened into sharp little points. Despite her body's involuntary response, she held herself rigidly, staring straight ahead, giving no indication she'd heard anything.

Joe chuckled softly at her refusal to look at or acknowledge him. His warm breath tickled her ear and her hardened nipples chafed against the lace of her bra almost painfully. "I thought I was imagining things," he said in that velvety soft tone. "But no. I'd know that beautiful face anywhere.”

“Oh look, here comes the leader of N’Stink.” She rolled her eyes.

“Leader of what?” he laughed. She didn't see what was so funny.

“That was my name for you and the evil twins. Jon and Josh.”

“Who knew little Evie Ashton was so creative.”

“I’m not ‘Evie’ anymore. I go by Evelyn now. This ain’t high school anymore.” She dared to look up at him this time, and hated that he was as gorgeous as ever, and was still able to effortlessly awaken her body with just one look, just his proximity. It reminded her how, as a teen, she had been so confused and embarrassed by the way she simultaneously loathed him and desired him. She sucked in a breath as his lower body now flush against her. She let out a small gasp as she became aware of a sizable hardness prodding into her ass. His mouth was by her ear again.

"This is the other reason I knew it was you." He rocked into her, letting her feel the length of his impressive erection. "All you had to do was come near me and you had me so hard I wanted to beg you just for a taste of your sweet pussy."

What?

She did turn around this time, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

“You have no damn idea how much I wanted you, Evie.”

“You’re fuckin lying.”

He shook his head. “I'm not. You feel that, don’t you?”

She clenched her thighs together, feeling a rush of warmth between her legs at his words. She opened her mouth to tell him to get the fuck away from her, but all that came out was a whimper.

His hands moved from where they held her arms in place down to her hips. She glanced down, seeing his strong, tanned hands grasping her. Lust coursed through her, drugging her into docility. The same thing kept happening back in high school - even when she was furious at him, he'd affected her so strongly on a physical level that she felt almost drunk when she was around him. What was worse, he was the first and only boy who had turned her on like that without even lifting a finger. Not even Chuka, her fiancé, ever set her body on fire like this, despite his impressive attempts.

As a teenager, she would imagine, at night, alone in her bed, herself with Joe, what it might feel like, the heights he might take her to, if he actually tried to bed her…

Her fantasies didn't even come close to the electricity his touch sent jolting through her body.

She held herself still, barely managing to breathe, as his bulge seared into her bottom. She was flushed from head to toe, and as she squeezed her thighs together to relieve the ache there, she could feel herself gushing into her panties. Mindlessly, she pressed back into him just the smallest bit.

In response, his hands moved around to cup her ass, gently spreading her cheeks so he could nestle his iron-hard cock between them. She tried to remember that she hated this man, that he'd made her life miserable for three years, and she never even knew why. But her body had taken over, her aroused state freezing her in place.

Encouraged by her complacency, Joe ground into her, his steel length feeling like it was branding her through her short dress. She panted, air coming in short bursts, as she pressed back into his groin…

-------------------

This is not finished at all and just a little excerpt, I hope you like it! I will be posting a brand new Roman one-shot real soon so look out for that.

As usual, tagging everyone else: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @harmshake @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @gomussy @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #msbigredmachinewrites #roman reigns fanfic

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ripcupid · 1 year

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Lazy Girl

(cause I'm lazy)

summary: short rough (kinda) smut mostly overstimulation with crying.

notes: can you tell I got a thing for crying? anyways I feel kinda drained rn and having "writer's block" ig and hella wips that I don't think are good.

“Why are you crying? Is it too much for you?” Joel's voice rings throughout your foggy brain. Tears blur your vision as you attempt to make sense of what Joel is saying. His fingers brush away the tears placing small kisses on the top of your head.

You manage to stutter out the words; “No, it’s not too much. I can take it.” You rest your head against his chest, tears staining his shirt. Your hips buck against the vibrator as you gasp for air. Your thigh closes around the toy but his hand gently forces them back open. You continuously shake as his fingers slip through the wetness of your cunt.

You whimper when Joel moves the toy away from your clit. He gently places a few fingers inside of you, his thumb softly massaging your swollen clit in circles. "Look at ya." He taunts, dragging his fingers over your slit. "You really wanna cum again, don't you?" You look at him pleadingly, silently begging him to touch you. He smirks at you, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand.

You nod, desperation dripping from your voice as you whisper "yes please."

He slides his fingers in you and you gasp in pleasure as he slides them in and out. Your mind goes blank as he teases and caresses you. You cry out his name, unable to think of anything else but his fingers as they move inside of you. You grip his forearm, squeezing it tightly as your pleasure builds and your breathing grows more ragged.

"You gonna cum?" His voice is low and throaty, driving you wild as his touch becomes more demanding. You whimper in response, barely able to keep yourself together as you near the edge. You close your eyes and feel the electricity of pleasure radiating through your body as the sensations build and burst, wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure cascading over you until you’re completely spent.

You hear Joel chuckle as he pulls out his fingers bringing them to your lips. You take them into your mouth and savor the taste of yourself on them.

You collapse into a boneless heap beside Joel, trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. Joel grins pushing your legs apart. You whine, never knowing when he’s going to stop. “Just let me play with you, okay?”

You nod, letting him push your legs apart. Joel kisses your cunt lightly, flicking his tongue over your abused clit. You cry out trying to close your thighs around his head. “Keep ‘em open.” He whispers, stroking your thighs. Joel reaches over for the discarded toy, flicking it on.

You whimper at the sound of the buzzing, every hum coming from the toy taunting you. “I’ll keep it low.” Joel reassures softly brushing his fingers over your cunt. He slides the toy lightly over your clit watching you shake. He presses it to your clit, not moving it away. You moan, your hips bucking as the sensations overwhelm you.

Joel kisses your thighs, circling the toy around your clit. “Such a pretty little thing.” He coos stroking your trembling thighs. Tears flow from your eyes again, broken moans slipping past your lips. He smiles as he watches you ride the pleasure and continues to press the toy to your clit.

Joel teases you, sliding a finger inside you, grazing a spot that causes you to yelp in both pain and pleasure. You arch your back and grip the sheets as he continues to thrust his finger, coaxing more tears from you. You moan his name as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge, begging him to make you cum once again.

You cry out in pleasure as he brings you to the brink of orgasm, and finally, it's too much for you and you let out a loud and blissful moan as the orgasm takes over. Your body is shaking as you come down from your high, and Joel looks satisfied with himself. He kisses your thighs tenderly before crawling up and pulling you into his arms.

You collapse against his chest, trying to catch your breath. His hands move slowly and soothingly up and down your back as he speaks softly and reassuringly in your ear, "You did so good, took me so well." His breath is warm on your skin and his words are soft like a lullaby.

Small tears still fall from your eyes staining his shirt as he rocks you slightly in his arms, your legs still trembling. His calloused hands gently cup your cheeks, wiping away the wetness from your eyes before he kisses your forehead. “You were just perfect for me, Princess.” He mutters against your forehead before kissing your slightly trembling lips.

“Thank you, Joel.” You whimper, his lips softly pressed against yours as he continues to stroke your trembling legs. He slowly pulls away, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

"I'll clean you up later when you're ready." He whispers softly to you. You nod your head, pulling yourself closer to his chest and holding him tight.

serious question: are we open to sub Joel cause I need to know how people feel

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pixiemage · 2 months

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So do you ever, like - accidentally get inspired to create a whole AU based on an old Tumblr text post, and you know you can't add it to your actual fic list because your existing WIP's are waiting for you, but you end up writing a snippet of it anyway? Yeah. Yeah, me too.

Jimmy knows he's not fully with it when he walks into the villains’ bar this time. He has a new name on his list from Make-a-Wish - Supreme this time - and he's only halfheartedly searching the by-now-familiar faces for the person he needs to talk to. He's not registering much of anything though, and it becomes apparent when two people step in his path and he doesn't notice until he's almost running into them. It's Joel, and it's Tango - Trickster and Phoenix - and the expressions on their faces are different flavors of the same thing. Anger, maybe, but not at Jimmy, simmering below the surface in Tango's case and being held back by a tense jaw in Joel's. And concern too, he thinks, concern and sympathy and- "Hey Songbird," Tango greets him, sounding just to the left of the normal fond tone he uses when he sees Jimmy. "How're you holding up?" "I...sorry?" Jimmy blinks, not quite understanding, and Joel casts a glance around the bar before settling back on Jimmy. "We heard about Mercy." Mercy - oh. Mercy Children's Hospital. Susie. Jimmy's chest goes tight and he swallows past a lump in his throat. A warm hand settles on his shoulder and he's steered over to a booth in the corner, Tango sandwiching him in on one side and Joel taking a seat across the table. Jimmy sucks down a shuddering breath. "...you heard?"

Joel scoffs. "We've been trying to find that bastard since the news broke this morning," he bites out. "The minute the Count gets back we'll know where he is." "You - what?" Jimmy stares, surprised. "You're trying to find him?" "Absolutely." Tango, this time, his arm around Jimmy's shoulders emanating a warmth that he hadn't realized was helping to calm him down. "We're going after that jerk the second we have the chance. The guy crossed a line, big time." Oh. Oh, gosh. Jimmy's vision just barely begins to blur with tears, and he feels Tango's arm tighten around him. There's quiet murmuring around him but he can't bring himself to listen. They're going after Vortex. Jimmy's biggest mistake in his life, and here Tango and Joel are ready to help fix it the second they have the chance. And Grian always said villains weren't to be trusted... "There's a bunch of others who signed up for the mission," Tango is saying, and Jimmy tunes back in. "Supreme and Iris and Worm Man and some o' the others. They were pretty pissed when they found out-" "And we'll keep your name out of it, o' course," Joel goes on, and Jimmy blinks away tears to focus on him better. Joel rakes a hand back through his green-streaked hair and shrugs. "You're not involved. Keep your record clean, all that-" "No."#Jimmy is almost surprised to hear himself say it, and Joel looks surprised too, his eyebrows flying high. "What, you want us to leave him alone? Dunno if I can do that, Jim-" "No, I mean I want to be involved," Jimmy insists. "I want in." This time it's Tango who's surprised, ducked forward to catch Jimmy's eye. "You sure, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his hair licking with tiny flames. Concerned, probably. "It's not gonna be pretty." "I'm sure." And he is. He's seen fights before, and he's been in even more. He's fought criminals on the streets who were going to hurt people, and he's not about to balk at going after someone who already has. "I can handle it." "You're gonna need to hide your identity," Joel drawls, his voice low. "Wouldn't want our favorite civilian going to jail on our account." "I know," Jimmy nods. "I've got something I can wear." He's already picturing the yellow-and-black costume currently hanging at the back of his closet, of the feather-trimmed mask in his top dresser drawer. The suit and the mask that even Tango doesn’t know exists, not yet. Jimmy ponders for a moment before making a decision. His eyes catch Joel and Tango's in turn. "Actually...I think there's something I need to show you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The arrest had gone far smoother than expected, in Grian’s opinion. It’s not often that a high-priority villain is found bruised and bloody and practically gift-wrapped right where an anonymous tipper said he would be. Sure, vigilantes were kind enough to help them take down bad guy when they were able, but this time was different. This time there was no masked wannabe hero trying to take credit for a takedown, no signature calling card or note beyond the unsigned “He’s all yours, boys” that had been scribbled on cardboard hanging around Vortex’s neck. It had felt odd, is all, though Grian had agreed with his partner when Scar had said he was just grateful to have the guy off the streets. As Grian slips into his apartment through the bedroom window and shoulders open the door to grab some food, he has to force himself to brush the buzzing thoughts aside. He can ponder oddities later. It was a long shift, and he’s about ready to crash the second he gets some fuel in him. It's only when Grian is tugging off his mask and setting it on the table by the bedroom door that he realizes he's not alone. Familiar yellow wings catch his eye, and when he turns, he spots Jimmy sitting on the couch in the middle of the room. He looks exhausted, his Canary costume on and his mask hanging around his neck, and his hair is a wreck - like when he's anxious and has been running his hands through it constantly. "...heya Tim," Grian greets him slowly, not sure what his brother's presence here means just yet. He drops his crossbow on the table and crosses the room, sinking onto the coffee table in from of Jimmy so he can see him better. His expression is one of a man worn and run down, something shadowed in his eyes that has a frown tugging at Grian's lips. He almost opens his mouth to ask what he's doing here - but then he spots the dark stains on Jimmy's fingerless gloves, and the patch of red that's barely splattered across the yellow parts of his suit's design. It clicks, then. The timing of it all, the villain - Vortex - that Grian and Scar had been called in to take care of tonight. The man who Grian also knew had been spotted at the Mercy Children's Hospital a few days ago, where that little girl had- "You were there," Grian says, not a question, just a fact. "Tonight. You went after him." Jimmy sucks down a shaking breath and nods. Grian would almost say he looks guilty, but he doesn't think Jimmy would feel guilty about going after the person who hurt one of his kids. Perhaps he feels guilty that a kid got hurt at all. "They helped," he says shakily. "All of - you know, the ones who said yes to visits with the kids. They've been trying to do better, and when Vortex-" He trails off, and Grian shifts over to the couch, tucking his brother under one of his wings and letting Jimmy slump sideways against him. "He's locked away, Jimmy," Grian tells him. "I promise. You did good."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#Pixiemage Writes #Jimmy Solidarity #Joel Smallishbeans #Tangotek #Grian #SolidarityGaming #Smallishbeans #Solidaritek #if you squint #Supervillain Wrangler AU #Superheroes AU

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suzukiblu · 28 days

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WIP WEDNESDAY GAME

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday! This week's theme is "Young Justice is straight-up feral about each other (and a little extra feral about their clone boy)".

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple requests are fine, but I’d prefer if you sent them in separate asks. Just a little easier for me to fill them that way.

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

it's not fine anymore

a pocketful of Kons

the Core Four gangs up on Kon’s objectification kink

trans Clark and cis Kon

YJ packs up and gets pupped

snippet from “it's not fine anymore”:

Meaning, it's less fine that his dick doesn't work.

Kon didn't even know it didn't, when he first got out of the vat. It didn't even occur to him to think about it, what with all the other shit that'd been going on at the time. It's been a few failed relationships since then, though, and a lot of meeting a lot of very attractive people in very tight clothes in very high-stress situations, and also there's been literal mind control and love spells and sex pollen and . . .

Yeah, well. So his dick definitely doesn't work.

Very, very thoroughly, does his dick not work.

If nothing else, being in the same room as Starfire and Nightwing while they were actively flirting with each other across the briefing table had very decisively closed the door on any possible chance of Kon just being a late bloomer or having a low sex drive or . . . or whatever. Whatever else it could've been.

Kon had really, really wanted it to be him just being a late bloomer.

But it's definitely not him just being a late bloomer.

This would be less of an issue if Cassie and Bart and Tim hadn't all apparently noticed that he's stopped flirting with everything that moves and have apparently all come to the conclusion that said ceasefire on his pathetic attempts at acting like a normal and functional teenager means he's like, emotionally matured or something and therefore is ready for . . . well . . .

Them.

Also Bart reading like sixteen different libraries and actually emotionally maturing probably didn't help either, in retrospect.

#wip wednesday #meme #omegaverse #wip: it's not fine anymore

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wangxianficrecs · 27 days

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marital customs by shijieswife

marital customs

by shijieswife

M, WIP, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: Cangse, with the growing up on a mountain under the hand of an immortal cultivator who had not descended in several hundred years, often has not a clue, about a single one of the customs down the mountain. She has very little idea of customs, or respect for them, despite her decades living down from the mountain. And this, unlike other things, is something Changze has no experience in either - the art of dealing with suitors for your first born child’s hand. Kay's comments: Ah, I am so in love with stories where Wei Wuxian's parents live!! And get to see him grow up!! And get to see him fall in love and tease him about it!! And also get to look out for him that he's getting treated right by his Lan boyfriend he has!! A very cute and very funny story and I can't wait to see Lan Wangji actually meeting the parents. Excerpt: So, of course, when their sweet little boy comes to them, all blushing and sappy smiles, she tells him “Ah, A-Ying, you know we don’t need to deal with all those formalities.” “Mama, it’s Lan Zhan,” A-Ying says. “I told him we should just elope - we’re not even doing a proper wedding, anyways! Lan Qiren’s made a rule on that big rock, about that, you know - but, Lan Zhan said I deserve all the respect he can give, and apparently that includes asking my family for their permission.” Another thing Cangse has never understood - the tabooness of inter class marriage. Arbitrary divisions - her, considered high class, just because some immortal taught her a few kicks and talismans, even though she knew she had been found discarded, an offering to any beasts roaming the forest. Had she grown up here, she would have been considered the lowest of the low, not even worthy of talking to a servant of Changze’s standing - who, as things stood now, had risen above his station by marrying and having a child with her. So what, if Gusu Lan’s precious jade was getting married to a son of a servant?

pov cangse sanren, canon divergence, cangse sanren and wei changze live, no sunshot campaign, meeting the parents, fluff and humor, protective parents, parent-child relationship, happy ending, marriage, implied sexual content

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Don't Speak 26

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Enjoy the fucked uppery.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

When Andy stirs, you feel relief wash over you. He rolls away, slowly dragging his hand across your stomach. You quickly shield yourself with your arm as he stretches, making the bed feel even smaller. You push yourself up cautiously as he yawns, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Mm, dove,” he murmurs groggily, “morning.”

He lowers his hands and smiles as he scratches his beard. A tuft along his chin juts out and he smooths it. His other arm falls behind you and trails his fingers up the back of your shirt. You shiver but do you best to suppress it.

“Morning,” you squeak back, bending your knees to your chest, “um, I’ll…” you search the wall on the other side of him as you think, “I’ll go make some coffee.”

“Oh,” his voice gristles with disappointment, “you’re leaving me?”

“Um, well, no, I just…”

“Can I get a kiss before you go?” He asks, playing with a dimple in the fabric of your shirt.

Your brows rise high and your eyes round. A kiss? Oh, you suppose that’s normal. If he loves you and you love him.

You nod and shift reluctantly. You unfold your legs as you twist around and lean in. He closes his eyes and you peck his cheek quickly before shoving away from him. You bounce across the bed, hopping off as your lips tingle funnily.

He groans but doesn’t say anything. You scurry to the door and stop just inside the frame. You look back at him, breathless in disbelief at what you just did. You really just kissed him.

“I’ll get changed and put the coffee on,” you promise with a sheepish smile.

“Alright,” his hand drops heavily onto the mattress. Your heart sinks. It wasn’t enough. You let him down again but that’s a lot for you.

You slouch and turn away. You shuffle down the hall and dip into the guest room. You shut the door behind you as your lip quivers. You thought you were getting better but that word just sticks in your head; ‘alright’. His grim tone stamped into your mind.

You pull out a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. You dress, happy to be rid of the shorts and high-cut shirt. You put on a pair of fuzzy socks as your toes throb in the chilly air. You’re nice and cozy and comfy.

As you come out into the hall, you keep from crossing it. The bathroom door is closed. Dang. You were going to brush your teeth. You’ll have to wait. Once you get the coffee going, you’re sure it’ll be free.

You take a step down the hall and nearly trip. A low, sonorous sound draws you to a stop. You’re not sure what it is at first. You almost think it’s the floor groaning under your weight. No, it’s too full to be that. It rises again, a deep rumble that makes your stomach swirl strangely.

There’s a sharp breath. Almost a hiss. Shallow pants beneath the rich groans. Your heartbeat picks up, racing as you know you should cover your ears and run away. It’s him! It’s Andy. What is he doing?

You retreat and raise your hand to knock but stop as his voice gets louder. You think better of asking if he’s okay as you realise you might be intruding. The epiphany of what he’s doing makes you feel very… ashamed. You shouldn’t be hearing this.

You spin and flit down the hall, carelessly letting your feet thump on the floor and down the stairs. Forget it, focus on what you have to do. Coffee for Andy, tea for you. You can’t let one awkward moment ruin the whole day.

Once the pot is brewing, you set the kettle over a burner and pick out a pair of mugs. You busy yourself with tiny things; straightening the dishcloth on its hook and sweeping away an errant crumb. You hear the stairs as Andy comes down, another yawn, more theatrical than before as he enters the kitchen.

You face him as the coffee machine grinds. His cheeks are slightly flushed as he stretches his neck one way than the other. He goes to the fridge and takes out the carton of oat milk. You watch him, your voice trapped inside of you. You feel as if you might just blurt out what you heard.

He faces you and places the carton next to one of the mugs. He looks at you as you stare at the floor. You rub your arm and sway on your feet.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” He asks.

You frown and shrug, “I… you don’t like it?”

“Well, I thought you might… you might want to wear something I bought you. Dr. Kemp is coming over.”

“Oh, I guess,” you tug at the bottom of your shirt and examine it, “I didn’t think…”

“You don’t have to,” he says bluntly, “it’s up to you. I just thought you’d want to look good for company.”

You blink and peer up at him, hurt. What is he saying?

“You’re always cute, dove,” he reaches to caress your cheek, “but I know you can look even better,”

He kisses your forehead and you wince. You nod and sidle away from him, folding your arms over your chest as your socks slip on the tile, “I know… I’ll go change.”

🕊️

There’s a knock at the front door. You sit forward as Andy gets up. He wears a powder blue pullover and pair of dark blue jeans.

You wear a short denim dress over a turtleneck, a few new pieces from the closet. Still, it doesn't seem good enough for Andy as he only said 'good enough' before pacing around restlessly. Now the time has come and your anxiety is about to overflow.

You wring your hands as you hear Andy open the front door. His greeting is met by Kemp's rich tone and you tug at your sleeves, waiting and watching the door. You don't know what to expect.

"There she is," Kemp smiles at you, "how are you doing, sweetheart?"

You try to return the gesture and stand. He looks around, appraising the room with a thoughtful hum. He twines his fingers together and cracks his knuckles.

"You good sitting there?" He asks as he looks at you again.

You nod and resume your seat in the armchair. Andy hovers behind the couch as Kemp nears the mantle and picks up the signed baseball there. He examines it before facing the room again.

"Andrew, why don't you sit down?"

"Wait, I, er, I forgot," Andy insists and goes to the console table near the window. He opens the draw and pulls out a familiar shape. It's your notebook, how did he get that?

"I thought this might help," Andy carries it over to Kemp and holds it out. The doctor considers it and swallows. His eyes flick up to meet the other man's and he raises his chin as his smile turns strained.

"Thanks," he slowly takes the book and pivots on his heel. He approaches you as you frown at his hand. Your lip trembles as you flutter your eyes.

"Here," he offers it, "that's yours."

You take it and thank him with a squeak, hugging it tightly to your chest. You see Andy's brow arch as he stares at the doctor. Your heart won't stop racing.

"No need for that," he says to Andy as he backs up, "all I need are you two. So please, sit."

You can tell by Andy's stunted movement's and the twitch in his jaw that he's not happy. Well you aren't either. He took your journal without asking. That's your private thoughts.

Dr. Kemp waits until Andy is sitting before he relaxes his postures, blowing out a breath as he slides his hands into his pants pockets, "so I think it's pretty obvious what we need to work on; boundaries."

Andy's nostrils flare as you stare down at the cover of your journal. Did he look inside? Did he read anything?

"Let's start with privacy. Anything we deal within individual sessions will be kept confidential. Including that," Steve angles around to face Andy as he point to you, "when we are altogether, we share what is important for the two of you to work together."

"Okay," your murmur as you lift your head, Andy grumbles.

"Andrew, apologise."

"What?" Andy snaps.

"Don't you think you owe her after you took something that doesn't belong to you?"

"Are you serious?"

"Alright, then, if all's fair, you will hand over your phone and let her have a look, won't you?" Kemp challenges.

Andy sucks in his cheeks and sighs. He looks at you and lets the tension drain from his face, "I'm sorry, dove. I didn't mean… I only… I thought it would help. I didn't look inside."

You cling to the book, "it's okay."

"Is it?" Kemp shifts towards you, "is it okay?"

You look him in the face, just for a second before letting your eyes wander to safety along the wall. You shrug.

"You can say, we're here to communicate," he coaxes, "how do you feel?"

"Erm… upset, " you admit.

"Are you hurt?"

You nod again, "I'm… mad."

"As would be expected. And do you hear Andrew's apology? Do you accept it?"

You chew your lip and glance at Andy, "I can."

"Alright, so that's a boundary set," Kemp declares, "but we're not just focusing on those. Let's think about barriers. There are some very obvious ones here. Not least of all communication."

You put your head down and listen. Andy bends one leg over the other as he leans back and rests his chin on his knuckles. You wait as Kemp walks in careless lines around the room.

"So we need to talk to each other. Let each other know how we're feeling. So let's be together," he continues, "please, come sit with Andrew."

You wince but get up. You put your notebook on the table as you pass it can sit on the cushion next to Andy, keeping space between you. Kemp comes close and looks down at you, "come in cozy."

He gestures with both hands. You sidle over as Andy does the same. He jostles you slightly as his arm brushes against yours.

"Alright, I'm sensing a divide. There's resistance here," Kemp rubs his chin, "now, I spoke with Andrew but I don't want to share anything too much, so please why don't you share why you called me here?"

Kemp waits, watching Andy, who puts his elbows on his thighs and taps his fingertips together. He peeks over at you.

"Well, you know–"

"Tell her," Kemp directs.

Andy clears his throat and angles slightly. You feel like melting against his gaze, "dove, we already talked about some of it, didn't we? When I try to be nice, you just pull away."

You listen, shoulders slumping, spirit shriveling.

"And it just feels like you take whatever you need and leave me with nothing," he carries on.

"In what way? Be specific. What is the issues here?" Kemp prompts.

"I… I don't want to embarrass her… er, you, dove, but… when I touch you, you… you act afraid and… and you never try to touch me," he sits up and gulps loudly, "I'm a touchy person. That's how I communicate."

"Good, good," Kemp praises, "that's good to vocalise your needs. And she can't give you what you need if she doesn't know, right?"

You look between them, confused. They're doing most of the talking but you don't know what to say. You don't know how to feel.

"And you," Kemp opens his hands in your direction, "What do you need?"

Your lips part, your mouth is dry, your ears are fuzzy. You have no idea what they want you to say. You're not used to asking for things, there's not much you can think of that they can give you.

"Nothing. I have more than enough," you say.

"Sweetie, it's okay," Andy assures you.

You shake your head. You really don't know what they're asking. You just want to draw and maybe even be happy.

"It's alright," Kemp leans back on his heel, "she might not know."

You rub your lips together and clutch your hands tight. It feels hot in the room. Like you could turn into a puddle.

"That means we take it slow. Figure it out. Patience for both of you. Andrew, you have to take your time showing her what you need and you," he smiles at you, "need to be patient with yourself. Explore and let yourself feel before you judge."

You furrow your brow. Kemp backs up further and hooks a thumb in his pocket, "alright, let's try something small. A nice starting point." He instructs, "hold hands."

Andy perks up and looks at you. You can't meet his gaze as you stare at the thick wool weaving of the doctor's sweater. Andy puts his hand against his leg and opens his fingers.

"Whenever you're ready," Kemp says.

You swallow and shakily raise your hand. You lay it in Andy's and he spreads his fingers so yours slip between them. He curls his grip around you, tight and warm.

"And how is that?"

"Nice," Andy answers first.

You sniff and nod, "yeah… nice."

"Alright, see. I don't want either of you to stress. This is healthy. Working together, right? Trust me, you're not the first or last couple to come to me."

"Sure," Andy squeezes your hand as if he's afraid you'll pull away.

"Hm, right, now one step further," Kemp continues, "put your arm over her shoulder."

You freeze, body locking in place. You're too afraid to protest. Therapy is hard work, Dr. Kemp said that the first day you met him. This is the only way to get better. Stop thinking about yourself, Andy is trying so hard.

Andy untwines his fingers from yours, leaning back slightly. He clears his throat and extends his arm behind you. Cautiously, he lets it rest over your shoulder. You try not to shrink down any further. He pulls you against him just slightly.

"And that? Is it good?" Kemp asks.

Andy answers the same as last time and you echo him with another stiff nod. Kemp seems pleased as he claps his hands together. He drops his arms and frames his hips.

"Okay, one last thing for today," he begins, "and Andrew, you can relax, I want her to initiate." He looks at you and your eyes meet for a brief moment, "a kiss."

"On the lips?" Andy asks, reminding you of how you chickened out and pecked his cheek earlier.

"Yes, just a small one,” Kemp encourages you.

You hesitate as you feel the tension in Andy’s body firm. Oh no, you don’t want to let him down. You reach up to rub your cheek and slowly slide forward. You lift your head and face Andy cautiously as he looks over at you.

You can’t look him in the eye. Your ears thrum loudly as your gaze falls to his lips. You feel like you’re choking on air. Just do it. Just get it over with. It’s what you have to do to make him happy and maybe if you make him happy, you might be happy too.

You lean in, awkward as you’re unsure of the angle. You hover before him, quivering with doubt. You make yourself move forward and press your lips to his, letting out a squeak as your mouths meet. You hold yourself there for as long as you can before you pull away.

You sit back and stare at your lap. Your whole body is buzzing with a mix of hot and cold. You don’t know how you feel, you just feel different.

“That was good,” Kemp says, “wasn’t it, Andrew?”

“Y-yes,” Andy rasps, “see, dove,” he puts his hand on your knee, “we’ll work on it, huh?”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #series #fresh #defending jacob #steve kemp

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