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chososdiscordkitten · 3 months

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artist- Yunonoaii on twt

MDNI

Content: CONSENSUAL SOMNOPHILIA. no y/n used or pronouns, satoru is the one sleeping, established relationship, porn without plot, free use, reader has doubts abt somno, oral (m!receiving), satoru is too pretty for his own good, penetrative sex- no detailed desc of readers parts (?), he wakes up, only 1 round before sleep again, no aftercare (?), riding n brief missionary Word count: 2.7k

(a.n)I couldn't get this specific art out of my head while writing this. help me, yuana for president

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Batting your eyes open and feeling the light of the moon illuminate your skin. Pursing your lips and looking over to your sleeping boyfriend. Scanning his face, long white eyelashes that gracefully covered his eyes.

Plump lips parted effortlessly, a strong jawline that made his otherwise soft features pop even more. Looking at his perfectly pointed nose, eyes trailing to the slightly damp lily white hair that delicately rested on his forehead.

The moon lit up the side of his face at just the right angle so that you could see light dandelion like peach fuzz that graced his pale skin.

‘Flawless.’ you thought before sitting up, dangling one of your legs off of the bed and trailing your eyes down to his neck. His bobbing adam's apple when he swallowed lightly, refined collarbones that your hands ached to trace.

Trailing down his bare impressive torso that you knew he took his time crafting. You nodded your head ‘no’ slightly, almost disapproving of how he pretty he looked; even if he was sleeping. Milky long fingers delicately planted on his tummy, eyes going from his perfectly manicured fingernails, to his gaunt knuckles.

Scanning his light happy trail with endearing eyes.

Tracing your gaze down his sides. Pale velvety thighs that you were envious of at times. Eyes trailing back up to the softened appendage between his plush thighs.

Inhaling sharply as you felt the familiar warmth flood in your belly. Looking away, suddenly remembering the reason you stirred awake. Gently stepping off of the bed and quietly stepping out of the bedroom.

Cold tile hitting the bottoms of your feet, stepping as softly as you could. Not caring that you were nude walking in the dark of his apartment hallway before reaching his kitchen. Humming quietly as you poured from the brita water pitcher he had in his fridge.

Looking from the kitchen island out to the striking skyline from the floor to ceiling windows. Thinking back on all the times he had tried to convince you to fulfill one of his greatest fantasies.

“I'm just saying- if you were to ever wake me up by riding me? I would be over the moon~” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder as you cooked breakfast.

“That's so strange- too weird. Even for you, Satoru.” You replied, shaking him off of you as you heard him give you an over dramatic sigh.

“Think about how hot it would be- if you ever told me you wanted that I wouldn't hesitate to do it.” he hummed, pressing his back onto the edge of the island.

You turned around to look at him, “I will-” you smiled sweetly, his expression showing over excitement at those two little words. “-never ask you to do that to me.” You finished, patting his chest with your hand.

Turning around, spatula in hand as he walked over to the living room couches. “And don't pout!” you exclaimed, knowing he already was sulking in the couches.

Even on his birthday, staring at the lit candles on the small cake you had gotten him. “Make a wish~” you hummed, seeing him close his eyes and think about what he wanted,.

“I wish to wake up with my cock in your mouth.” he whispered, blowing out the candles and looking at you with a thrilled smile.

“It won't come true-” you purse your lips looking at him with a deadpan face. Seeing him irk his chin almost asking what you mean. “You said it outloud- so it won't come true.” You teased, plucking off the candles from his over frosted birthday cake.

Three times he asked you to do it, knowing he wouldn't stop asking till you gave him some kind of hope that you'd fulfill his wishes.

And on the third time, you told him you'd think about it. And you did. You spent a good 30 minutes that night thinking on it. Wondering why he found it so appealing to be touched as he slept.

Remembering he said something about how arousing it would be knowing you couldn't wait till he woke up to play.

It was true, you had an adventurous sex life with Satoru, trying anything at least once to know if either of you liked it or not. But this felt off, you didn't know if it was because the only kind of somno you had been exposed to was always some kind of creepy weird fetish that always looked nonconsensual.

But you were sure that you'd never be interested in receiving it.

To Satoru, he found it appealing thinking if the day ever came; he'd wake up to you doing whatever you wanted to him, knowing he wasn't awake to protest or to tease you.

So riled up and caught up in the moment that you didn't even bother waking him, using him for your own pleasures.

He liked thinking that you found him so attractive that even if he was sleeping- you’d want to fuck him. In his own mind, he was yours, physically, mentally, emotionally, everything he had- he would give you. Yours to use whenever you'd like, rough, gentle, bottom or top.

At times he'd pretend to complain. “I act on your every whim and I can't even put in one request!?” he’d exclaimed with pouty eyes, knowing you were looking at him with a stern face.

“I do almost everything you ask of me, Satoru.” you smiled, being able to hear his feigned frustration in his dramatic sighs.

“It's like- a version of free use-” he'd tell you, knowing how riled up he got even thinking about how you could use him whenever you'd like, and he’d let you. Satoru had spoken about free use with you, it was one of the established things both of you had put the green light on.

This whole ‘biggest fantasy’ of his wasn't a red light to you, it was more of a yellow light. Unsure how to tread through it, or how to go about it really.

Which is why you found this so conflicting, standing at the doorway of his bedroom. Staring at his sculpture like body, chest rising and falling as he slept peacefully.

Mentally arguing with yourself, morally it would be wrong. But didn't he say he wanted this? All but begging on his hands and knees? And how could you resist when he was sleeping so beautifully?

Taking quiet steps towards him, standing next to the edge of the bed on his side. Gulping when you saw the light veins on his lower abdomen.

Sitting on the small edge beside him, leaning over and pressing a light kiss on his cheek. Whispering in his ear, “Satoru.” you called out, in hopes he'd wake up. You took your hand and brushed the light strands of hair from his forehead. Catching a glimpse of one of the few imperfections on his skin, one of his least favorite ones.

Planting a gentle kiss to the scar on his forehead, seeing his eyebrows slightly furrow feeling you.

“Satoru.” you whispered once more, hearing him let out a low hum. Placing a soft kiss to his parted lips, hearing him let out a small huff. Trailing kisses on his features, seeing his eyes tighten when you placed an open mouth kiss on his adams apple.

Reaching his plentiful pecs, placing a wet kiss to the swell of one of them. Looking up and scanning his face to make sure he didn't look unsettled before sticking your tongue out slightly and circling it to his softened nipple.

Hearing him let out a quiet huff at the sudden feeling, knowing how sensitive he was awake. Fully expecting him to be even more reactive while sleeping.

Feeling the pink bud harden in your mouth as you heard more frustrated puffs and light whines from his plush lips. Taking your other hand and pressing your thumb to his other nipple, gently rubbing it against the pad of your thumb.

Throaty moans leaving his lips, looking down and seeing his soft cock slightly jump when you flicked your tongue against him. Pulling your lips and hand from his chest as you sat up, scanning his face to see if there were any signs of him being awake. “Toru-” you whispered, seeing his eyebrows furrow at the lack of stimulation to his chest.

You slightly shifted down the bed, hands grazing his fair thighs. Eye to eye with his flaccid cock, hearing him let out a dissatisfied whine when you let out a sigh that hit his tip directly. You parted your lips slightly, leaning in with eyes looking up his torso. Being able to smell the floral body wash he had used before going to bed.

Taking an experimental lick at his pale shaft, scanning his expression for any discomfort. Finding none before licking a long stripe from his tip to his base. Seeing his upper torso shift slightly with a light blush appearing on his cheeks. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth when you saw his cock twitch.

Placing an opened mouth kiss on his light pink tip, hearing a light gasp fall from his lips. Gentle hand on his thigh for balance as you blinked. Wrapping your lips around his tip, seeing his closed eyes scrunch at the feeling with a quiet moan.

Already being able to feel his cock hardening, slowly pushing past his tip. Small whines from Satoru as his tip brushed against the roof of your mouth. Dragging his stiffening member back out of your mouth, wrapping your lips around his tip as swirling your tongue at the small opening of his cock. Taking your free hand and grazing the tips of your fingers against his balls. Seeing him purse his lips slightly at the new feeling.

Rosy cheeks deepened as he squirmed, sliding your lips tightly off his tip. Blinking your eyes to his half hard cock, placing wet opened mouth kisses down his shaft. A small tear fell from his tip as he shuddered, kissing back up to his tip. Gasping lightly when you saw he was fully hard, “Oh ‘Toru~” you cooed, admiring his expression.

Pinching your eyebrows together, seeing his back slightly arching. The warmth between your thighs felt too evident right now, slowly shifting from the bottom of the bed onto your knees.

Lifting one leg and tossing it to the other side of him. Looking down at his heaving chest, eyebrows pinched as your hands grazed his ribs. His cock stood at attention, slightly pressing against your tummy. Satoru turned his face- almost feeling your gaze on his skin.

His lower body shifting beneath you, you took one hand to his cock; raising yourself higher before lining him up with your entrance. Eyes scanning his tense face. Seeing how pretty he looked this way, furrowed eyebrows and pink cheeks.

Light film of sweat on his forehead and pouty lips. Frustrated hands not knowing what to do- what to grab onto, one trying to grasp the sheets. The other on his chest trying to soothe the itch he felt in that moment, hand inches away from your own.

You pressed his tip to your sopping entrance, gasping as you took a snail's pace lowering yourself onto him. Not needing any prep, recalling the way he slammed into you mercilessly earlier. Showing you just how much he had missed you when he was away.

One of the reasons why you were fulfilling his wish, to show him just how you had missed him too. Satoru’s face churned as you lowered yourself onto him slowly. Hand planted on his sternum firmly, Satoru’s yearning hand grazing your fingers. Seeing him part his lips with a low whine, his head pushing itself back into the pillows as you felt his tip brush past that special spot he liked to exploit.

You let out a frustrated whine, eyes blinking over to see his other hand is gripping the sheets firmly. You exhaled breathlessly, thighs already shaking from how slow you were going.

His cock now fully inside of you, a gasp left your lips. Biting into your lip trying to quiet your own moans, heavy breathing coming from Satoru as shameless whines fell from him. Dragging his cock slowly out of you, closing your eyes as you felt him twitch inside of you.

Taking your hand and pressing the back of it to your lips as you slid down him, the hand that was atop yours now lightly gripping your wrist. Trying his very best to soothe the ache he felt between his legs.

Pulling yourself up as a smile formed on your lips, sinking yourself down quicker. A loud whine falling from your lips without permission. Snapping your head down to see if Satoru had heard it as loud as you did. Slack jawed with a bead of sweat falling from his temple.

“Mm- fuck.” you gasped, feeling how deep his cock was nuzzled inside of you. Closing your eyes and tipping your head back as you fucked yourself, feeling the hand that was clutched on the sheets reach up to your thigh.

Hearing a small mutter as you ground yourself on him, thumb caressing your thigh as his eyes blinked open. You were so focused on staying quiet and not fucking yourself at the speed you wanted to not wake him.

Frustrated exhale from his lips when the image of you lightly bouncing on him graced his half open eyes, focusing on your own pleasure before his. Sweet smile formed on his lips when he heard the stifled moans falling from you.

With a sharp inhale, you looked down, feeling his cock somehow go deeper inside of you. Seeing he was looking up at you with hazy eyes. “M’sorry-” you gasped, feeling his hand on your thigh roam up to your hip. Slowly grinding yourself back and forth as you let out noisier whines.

A string of quiet apologies leaving your lips for waking him up. Only small gasps were heard from him as he tried to shake off the hazy feeling.

Satoru’s hand was trying its best to guide you to grind quicker, feeling your hips stutter against him. His grip strengthening on your side, closing his eyes and throwing his head back onto the pillow.

Now panting as you ground yourself quicker against him, “S-so pretty ‘Toru-” you gasped. Leaning down and pressing an opened mouth kiss to his neck, a whimper falling from his lips from your praise. Holding the side of his neck as you felt him guide you at the speed he wanted.

Both of his hands now on your hips, trying their best to get you to move quicker. Feeling himself unravel slowly by your touches. The more Satoru shook off the foggy feeling, the closer he felt himself come to the realization of what you were doing.

Unashamed whimpers directly in your ear as he mumbled a quiet, ‘M’cumming-’. Chest to chest as you pulled away from his neck, looking directly into his half lidded eyes. Looking at you slack jawed and blushed before you pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips.

He didn't feel he was deep enough inside of you, the need to be nestled fully inside of you was strong. A loud groan left into your mouth as Satoru gathered all the strength he could. With one swift motion, your back hit the sheets.

Eye to eye as he thrusted into you sloppily, gasping when you felt how deep he was thrusting into you. Pulling his lips from you and pressing his forehead to yours. For the first time, Satoru was silent, apart from his quiet whimpers; usually being all too talkative during sex. Now he found himself wordless, be it the fog in his brain or how you hugged his cock.

Gripping the sides of his neck as he thrusted out of you, inhaling sharply before thrusting into you once more. Making sure to get as deep as he could, pulling out quickly before snapping his hips back into you. Muffled whines from your lips as he let out a shivering groan, clenching his teeth together as he felt himself come undone. His warmth seeping inside of you as his arms struggled to keep himself propped up.

Placing a sloppy kiss to his open lips as he collapsed on top of you. Satoru’s head resting beside your neck as your hands found their way to his back. Holding him closer to your skin, Satoru’s eyes blinking shut slowly.

“Thank you-” he muttered against your skin, his back rising and falling slowed as he came down from his high. Hands rubbing small circles on his back to soothe the shivers that rumbled through him as he fell back to sleep.

I couldn't stop thinking about this. FINALLY I write something under 3k words. kk now im goin to work.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo #jjk satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru #satorugojo #gojo x chubby reader

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nkogneatho · 10 months

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𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒 (𝑭𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑪𝑳)

—cw: fem!reader, diabetes worth fluff, soft and protective dads, megumi, tsumiki as yours and toji's kids, mention of childhood trauma in geto's, dad jokes, not proofread

—a/n: I hope you shed a tear and laugh out loud. Don't let this flop. I actually wrote all of these from my personal emotions and experiences :)) Reblogs appreciated.

#mlist #art commissions #taglist

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TELL ME WHO WAS YOUR FAVORITE DAD!!! ༊*·˚

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

All these jjk women clowning gojo makes me think his daughter roasts him at every chance she gets. It's not even on purpose. It's just wise words out of a child's mouth.

"Hana-chan~" he calls her in a sugar laced tone. "How do I look in this?" Satoru pointed towards the awful shirt he was wearing. The outfit was all over the place. It was so bad that even your five year old could tell it.

"Papa's good at fighting, not fashion." His jaw immediately dropped and he could hear you trying to control your laugh.

He knelt so he could be a little more "Hana-chan, don't be mean to papa. It's making me cry."

"She's not being mean, baby. Just telling the truth. I'll divorce you if you wear that one more time," you stated, walking towards both of them.

"Oh yeah," he picks the five year old in his embrace, "I'd fight your lawyer. Daddy's the strongest. Right, hana-chan?"

"But you lost the argument to mama las' night." It was amazing how she can sounds so sweet while ripping your husband apart. You finally laughed out loud because you just couldn't control it.

You would expect Toru to put up an argument at times like this but he just giggles, and squeezes you both in a tight hug.

Yeah. He might be the strongest, but he'd always loose to his two girls.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 .ೃ࿐

Your four year old and seven year old were determined to surprise their daddy for father's day. Toji never credits himself. He does so much, but expects nothing back. The thought of "what my kids might gift me for father's day" doesn't even strike his mind. He goes out and sees all the decorations on the stores with big glittered alphabets spelling "happy father's day" that's how he comes to know about it. Yet, the man wouldn't expect anything. He knows you three love him. He just doesn't want anything in return. His love doesn't come at a price for you all to pay. So when he came home to utensils clanking to the ground, he was worried.

"Oné-san, no. That's not how I wanted yout two write," megumi complained.

"Megumi, I am older. I know what to do." They both were trying to dominate each other on what to write on the cake. When they heard Toji's footsteps, the little boy pushed you towards the kitchen entrance.

"Mama, don't let papa come in now." You were laughing as you get kicked out of your own kitchen.

"Hey, sweetheart. I heard some noise. 's everything alright?" Toji gave you a quick peck after the question.

"Oh? Oh that yeah! Everything's fine. I just dropped the pan."

"Are ya hurt?" His eyes look completely concerned.

"Uh hun, I am fi—" before you could complete the sentence, your two cute munchkins came squealing, holding the little cake with small hands.

You moved your figure out of the way so your man can see what his kids made for him.

"Happy father's day, papa." They both wished him with a hearty smile. Toji was surprised. His heart suddenly warmed up to the feeling of the view in front of him. His two babies with flour patches on their tees, tsumiki's messy bun and megumi with cream near his lips, confirming he must've snuck in a taste when his sister was looking away. He wanted to cry.

You looked down and noticed there was a spelling mistake with the word "world" on the cake which was supposed to spell "to best daddy in the world"

"Gumi, Tsumiki, there's a mis—" Toji looked at you and shaked his head, speaking with his looks, telling you to not say it. He did notice it, but he didn't care about the mistake. All he wanted now was to gobble down the cake that his babies made. He pat them both on the head, ruffling their hair. "Thank you, little bears. Lesgo' enjoy this and then papa will take you and mama to the game world you like."

With the way he is looking at them, you're sure he'd eat that cake even if it was poison.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

Geto didn't think he'll ever have kids, but when he was gifted with twin girls, he claims he is the luckiest person alive ever since.

He loves spoiling his little girls. He takes them shopping, pampers them all the time, helps them learn their nursery rhymes. If they ever were to grow up being too bratty, you are prepared to blame him because he never scolds them. He would dare not to. But that is the thing about kids. You don't yell at them. You don't have to be so harsh. You just have to ease it in and make them understand how their wrongdoings can affect others, hurt others as well as themselves.

Something always triggered inside you when you saw him being soft with Rumi and Arohi. You wished you were treated that way in your childhood. You only thought about them being bratty if not yelled, because that's what your childhood was like.

You were working on some documents, when you heard the door unlocking. Rumi and Arohi walked in with their pink bunny bags on their back.

"Mama, we're home!!" they squealed and ran into your arms, as you quickly set the files aside.

"Aww, seems like you had fun without mama. Where's your dad?"

"There." They pointed at the 3 foot box with legs on the door.

"AH! OH MY GOD. Who are you? How did you get in?" Your mother instincts hid the girls behind your back, as you tried to find something to hit the man with.

"Y/N, NO. IT'S ME," the box monster yelled. He moved his head revealing his fox eyes and you could recognize him.

"Suguru? Oh dear."

"A little help please," his voice felt struggled. You quickly sprinted towards the door, and helped him trying to get the box on the floor only two reaveal all the bags he had behind him.

"Did you guys buy the whole store? And what's this? A lego set?"

"That's for you, mama," Rumi stated.

"Yes mama, we got it for you. The biggest one in the store," said Arohi, running towards her shopping bag filled with toys.

"Suguru, for me? Why?"

"Darling. I always see you doing so much for us," his palms now cupped your cheek. "It broke my heart when you told me that story when you wanted the lego set but the responsibile daughter in you felt you did nothing to achieve it so why ask for it. Well here you go."

"I still don't understand," you shaked your head.

"Y/n. It's okay to spoil yourself. You don't always have to work hard to give yourself a little love. These things that you wanted were always yours even if all you did was try." Tears started streaming down your eyes. You felt the seven year old girl in you finally smile.

"Rumi-chan. Arohi-chan. Let's play with mama's gift." All three started sabotaging the tapes and lables in the big blue box.

You felt happy to have this family. You know why he's a great father? Because Suguru doesn't care for two kids. He spoils three. Your daughters, and that little girl in you who wished to have all that you do today.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 .ೃ࿐

A man like nanami will always be a great father. No doubt. But here's one thing you probably don't know about Nanami Kento.

He's a full time salaryman, and part time comedian. Well...probably the worst one because his dad jokes are awful. You wanna know how it started in the first place, right? So it was when you were feeding the two year old the baby food, that you suddenly heard your phone ringing. Kento quicky replaced your place and took over the feeding as you walked towards the hall.

"Aww look at you. Aren't you the cutest baby in the world?" He took the spoon off the alligator cartooned bowl and extended it near her mouth. "Do you want to hear daddy's joke?"

Three mintues later you walked in two the sound of your little girl giggling and laughing. She's never laughed so loud.

"Oh my god. She's laughing."

"Yes. I made her laugh, beloved." Kento looked so happy with the biggest smile.

"Really? What did you do?"

"I said a joke." You luaghed too soon. Was that line a joke because Nanami Kento being comical? No. Impossible.

"I am sorry, baby. It's not true, right?"

"It is. You wanna see? Okay here we go." He moved his head back to harumi. "Harumi, do you know what do you call an alligator in a vest?" Your eyes were hooked on to them.

"An investigator." You couldn't believe your eyes nor your ears. She was really laughing. You chuckled too. Harumi must really loved his dad. Either that, or she has a poor sense of humor like the blonde in front of her.

Since then, Kento always collects dad jokes like pokemons and records her giggling.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 .ೃ࿐

Trust me or not, Sukuna is a great father. I'll tell you why. You don't see his protectiveness? Yeah he doesn't show much care on the surface, but you don't spot how he is always lurking behind you to whoop anyone's ass who tries to hurt his loved ones?

That's how Sukuna is even as a father. He wants his kids to stand up for themselves, but he'd always be having their back. To hold them and catch them if they trip.

"Oh they sure do grow up fast. You blink and they're already in college, y/n," your neighbor laughed with you. It was Akio's fifth birthday party.

"Everything looks great, but... " she scanned around, "don't you think pink theme is too girly for a boy? Especially the flower tiara on Akio's head.

You were irritated. How dare she say that? Unfortunately for her, Sukuna heard it and quickly walked to you. He kneeled to place the sanrio stickers on Akio's cheeks.

"Yeah so?" Your husband questioned the woman. "Who said pink is for just girls? And even if it was, there wouldn't be anything wrong with Akio liking it." The silence followed made it clear she didn't expect the clapback.

"Plus the tiara makes him look the cutest. Maybe you should try one. It's on the counter. You can surely use..." he eyed her head to toe"...some glow up.

She immediately rushed out of the door with her son and not apparently the counter. You three burst out laughing.

"Ugly Bitch telling my son what he should like."

"KUNA!" you slapped his back for swearing in front of your child.

"What?! Hey, if Akio ever wanted to call her that, I will galdy let it slide. In fact, I'll support him."

He might act like an immature kid sometime, but you know you had kids with the right person when he makes sure his children are raised in healthy environment.

Taglist: @denji-star @simp-lauren @katsukichu @bbytamaki @thebrokenkitkat @his-saiko @loml-riri @milophiliac @aztecbrujeria @tohokuu @chailattle @erintaro @pumpumrins @lilitudemon @suyacho @keiskyutie @aiizenn @fluffy-ai @bibemiiu @4sat0ruu @namcore @yuujispinkhair @buerriberry @vagabond-umlaut @thedead101

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uranometrias · 18 days

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✮ꜜ : ❛ guilt's a motherfucker : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

summary: denial was an art, especially in a field like the one that you worked in. as a profiler, it was almost impossible for anyone to pull the wool over your eyes. you'd spent enough time with your team to know that this gift, this specific sort of perception was not something you were immune to either. meaning, no matter how much you tried to keep things a secret, someone on your team was bound to read right through you. especially spencer. 🔱 ━━ alternatively: the one where your inability to say what you want leads spencer to accept the affections of someone else.

content warnings: i think this could be considered angst . spencer reid having a crush on reader. reader being jealous of spencer getting attention from someone else. cute friendship between derek+ emily + reader. reader is the youngest on the team. set in s6, pre- jj’s departure.

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“You doing alright, babygirl?” Derek’s voice isn’t hard to miss, and the obvious smugness that was attached made your eyes roll. You knew from the moment that you’d leaned forward in your chair, lips pulling down into a deep pout that someone would clock you and quite quickly put two and two together. You didn’t mean to be obvious, in fact, usually you did a much better job at keeping your cool. However, there was something glaringly different today.

Spencer had gone for a new look, you remembered the day he walked in with his hair freshly cropped, shoulder-length tresses replaced with what Hotch had affectionately referred to as "boy band" hair. The rest of the team had laughed, you'd even cutely hid your own snicker behind your hand, but you couldn't deny that it fit him. It was flattering, dare you say cute as hell. In the weeks that followed though, he'd went even shorter, gone were all traces of boy band.

The look he sported now was distracting, incredibly so. He looked good, and it seemed you weren't the only that seemed to notice.

"She's eating him with her eyes." you grumble, arms crossing as Derek comes up behind you. He's got his chin pressed to your shoulder, following your line of sight, as a boisterous laugh escapes him. "It's not funny, Derek." this hiss of yours only seems to fuel his amusement as he starts to chuckle even louder.

"You've been mean mugging that girl since she walked in this morning." Derek rounds your desk now, obstructing your view of the betrayal taking place across the bullpen. It was a slow day, a good day. No cases, but loads of paperwork. Your desk was covered in nothing but files, some you'd started, some you'd finished. You're still cross, but you allow yourself to look up at your long time friend.

"I'm not mean mugging." you huff, blinking slow as you think over your clear fib. "There's just something in my eye." you whisper, and it's not convincing. You can tell by the way Derek's bag chuckling.

"Yeah, a green monster." he retorts quickly, and you can't deny the way it catches you off guard, as a choked laugh at your own expense escapes you. "Jealousy's not a good look on you, little bit." he hums and you droop, because of course you know that. "Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling?" he asks, and despite all his jokes and quips, Derek Morgan was perceptive, and he cared about you.

"That's a horrible idea." you exclaim, and your entire body jerks back, recoiling as if you'd been stung. "God, aren't you supposed to be some kind of smooth criminal?" your eyebrows quirk upward, "What type of advice is that?" you proceed, and Derek's bemused, looking down at you as he waits for you to finish your spiel.

"Just tell him straight up how you feel?" you deepen your voice to mock his, "Why don't I just run around the bullpen in underwear too, since we're doing dumb things." you huff, and your dramatics are amusing. They always have been. You'd been a member of the team going on two years, and you'd made a mark so deep it almost felt like you'd always been a part of the Unit.

You were a stark contrast to Emily and JJ, and a complete 180 from the angsty bombshell that had been Elle Greenaway. You were a wide-eyed 20-something year old that still had so much light behind your eyes, and a hope that you wouldn't shake. You had a way of making everyone laugh. You could pull anyone out of their heads, even Hotch, who Derek had caught many times fighting back small content smizes as you took the team's mind off the gore of the job.

"That's one way to get attention." he hums, and you huff again.

"Derek, you're not being helpful. If you're just here to laugh at my misery, I'm gonna start rethinking your place in my life." you hum, and you lean forward, chin resting against your palms. Derek appraises you, head tipping to the side as he offers you a charming grin.

"All I'm saying is, you've been crushing on the kid since you got here." he reminds you, and your frown deepens. "And the world wont be blind forever." he mumbles, and you know what he means. Spencer Reid to you had always been the most beautiful guy, but he'd been buried under mountains of trauma and insecurities that he had never been able to accept that. With time though, Spencer had begun to blossom, and this new haircut seemed to be a testament of this.

He was coming into himself, there was a new confidence budding in his steps, less stammers between phrases, and you didn't really have to fight for eye contact much anymore. He was still Spence, and in his words, he was far from an Alpha Male, but he could be. And he would be, you just knew it. Which meant that the more confident he became, the more women would see him the way you saw him. Damn. Derek sees the way the cogs in your mind move, and he sighs.

"Take it from someone who's been around-." you can't help but to insert with your own little quip. "What are you calling yourself a dog?" you tease, and his eyes roll, but he still grins wide.

"Listen." he stretches the word a bit, and he's looking you right in the eye. You can see sympathy swirling through the pretty pools of brown, and you believe that maybe if you were a bit older, and had met Derek first, you'd be swooning for him the way you were swooning for Spencer. You shake these thoughts of his beauty away, as you give him the space to speak freely. "I know what it's like to miss a window." he reminds you. "Rejection's a bitch." he adds.

True. It was precisely why you'd never bothered to say anything to Spencer. You got through life by pretending things were fine, by making a joke out of the hard stuff. You wouldn't be able to handle opening your heart to someone, and being told 'No'. That you weren't good enough, that you weren't what they needed. Maybe that was selfish, rejection was a part of life. It was necessary, but still. You'd rather deal with your unresolved issues alone. You saw no need to bring Spencer into conversations about your feelings for him at all.

"But guilt's a motherfucker." and Derek's words stop you short. You blink. What was worse? The sting that rejection could cause or the gaping hole that guilt would bring? The thought of getting an invite to a wedding day for a future Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Reid while you sitll held romantic feelings close to your chest made you want to vomit. Perhaps Derek had a point. At least if Spence turned you down with time the two of you could work around it, become friends again.

If you never said anything though, you'd have no right to be angry or hurt or jealous if some woman with much more confidence than you managed to swoop in and knock him off his feet Damn, you hated when Derek was right. His chuckle is what alerts you that your begrudging inner thoughts had been uttered aloud.

"What's Derek right about?" you smell the familiar scent of Prentiss' perfume before you see her face. It's subtle but comforting, and it makes you unconsciously relax in your seat. Derek's moving out of your line of sight, and you're met with the sight of Spencer still talking to the woman. She had a firm grip on a mug of coffee in one hand, her other hand leisurely tracing circles on Spencer's arms. You inhale sharply, swiveling in your seat as you turn to face Emily.

"Everything." Derek takes the swing, winking as you and Emily share a dry glance. He then subtly nods his head towards the woman crowding Spencer at the kitchenette and Emily's lips form a thin line of understanding. She turns to you, hand resting on your shoulder as she gives it a firm squeeze.

"Don't you think it's time to take a swing?" she offers, and you hate that immediately she falls into step with Derek. The duo forming a united front against you to ensure you put your big girl pants on and tell him the way you're feeling. "Here's an idea," And Emily's looking for a second to make sure Spencer is still too preoccupied to make his way over. "You've been trying to find someone to go with you to that new movie... what was it?" Emily snaps her fingers.

"Crash of the-" you cut her off with a deep sigh.

"Clash... it's Called Clash of the Titans." you mutter, and you pout. You had been trying to convince Emily, JJ, and Penelope to give the action film a shot. What could be better than watching Sam Worthington run across your scream for nearly two hours as you're transported to Ancient Greece? But, alas... the girls were far more interested in other things. In truth, they'd all agreed that they'd prefer to see something a little less packed with gore and violence.

Just for a change of pace.

You couldn't slight them for their polite rejection of your plans. The last case you'd been on had been especially taxing and nightmare inducing. "Why don't you ask him instead?" she hums, and you look over at the chatting duo, they'd really been talking for a while. There's this easygoing sort of look on Spencer's face, and the beauty across from him has turned about the same shade of red as the lipstick smeared across her full pout.

"Looks like she beat me to it." you mutter, and you think maybe God hates you, because as you let the words out, the girl is beaming even brighter, slipping something she'd written on a napkin into the palm of his hand. She offers a flirty wink before she's sashaying off, hips moving from side to side as she makes her way back to her own little cubby. "Ah well, who cares?" you try your hand at playing nonchalant. "It's not like I was in love with him or anything."

And the thing about Denial was that you'd spent so long making it your security blanket that you often forgot you were working with some of the most brilliant minds the FBI had ever produced.

Derek pats your shoulder, he's sympathetic to your plight. He was probably the only person you had been the most forthcoming with about these feelings you harbored. Emily frowns, and she offers you a side hug, chin resting on the top of your head. Their comfort makes you feel better, but the coil of feelings in your gut only seems to tighten. You wanted to be alone, you'd been perceived enough, if any of them pushed any further you may have broken into tears.

"I-I should get back to work." you mutter quietly, and they both know what you're doing. For once they resist the urge to comment, and they leave you be. Your desk was farthest away from the rest of the team. You and Hotch had agreed it was necessity. You could focus more when your back was to the rest of them. You let out a quiet sigh, fingers drumming against the table as you swallowed your emotions. You tiredly reach for an unfinished file, flipping it open.

Blurry words peer back at you, and you're shocked to realize that despite all your efforts you were still about to cry. Fuck.

You close your eyes, counting up to thirty in both english and spanish, by the time you'd finished breathing treinta under your breath, you had a new guest in front of you. Spencer stretched up for what felt like miles, his eyebrows furrowed as he stood before your desk with a look of confusion on his face. "Hey, are you alright?" he asks, and his voice always has this tenderness throughout.

"J-Just fine." and your stammer gives you away. Your voice is coated with mucus, a surefire signal that you were about a few seconds shy of having an immature meltdown. How silly of you to be this shaken up over the prospect of Spencer being with someone else. How dare you? You didn't even have the balls to admit that your playful flirting was just you overcompensating for the fact you couldn't do it foreal.

"I read somewhere that breathing exercises help you get through boring things." you motion to the file, and you've perfected your fake grin. Spencer doesn't look convinced, but he plays along.

"Oh, yeah? Where'd you read that?" he asks and you blanche.

"Uh. Just somewhere." you answer, and he's raised both his eyebrows. You recover quickly, clearing your throat. "You've replaced me, huh?" you ask, and you're playing it off like one of your jokes. Spencer looks shocked for a second, before he tips his head to the side as he looks down at you as if you were the most important thing in his world. If only.

"What do you mean?" he pries, and you motion with your head to the coffee station.

"Found another pretty girl to boost your head up, huh?" you mutter, and there's this flash. Something you can't quite catch, mostly because you're not in the mood to profile and analyze what all his facial expressions meant now. "You guys looked like you were having a good time." you add, and you hope you don't sound bitter. Jealousy or not, if Spencer was happy, you'd be happy too. You'd try.

"Yeah." he replies, and his face is turning red. "S-She was just being nice." he answers, and you hate that the first thing you notice is how he hasn't said 'No, I haven't replaced you.' You sour all the more.

"That's nice, Spence." you hum, and it's clear you've now become uninterested. So much for trying.

Still, Spencer was nothing if not selectively oblivious. You guys had been playing this game for almost a year, he wasn't going to make it easy for you to cop out and make him the bad guy. "She actually asked me to go see-" the rest of his joy-ridden words are mush in your head, and you can imagine how unamused you looked as you half-listened to him go on about how they were going out Saturday.

Yippee.

You don't mean to be rude, not really. But you couldn't bring yourself to listen to anymore. "Congratulations, Spencer." you cut him off abruptly. "But I've got to finish this, so if you could just-" and you're ushering him off as he stares at you aghast.

"What's your problem?" he pries, and you blink owlishly.

"Nothing." you insist, and you look over your shoulder. The team was not-so-subtly watching the exchange. Typical.

"I find that hard to believe." Spencer retorts, and he's got this unimpressed look on his face, like he knows something you don't. His genius has never irked you before, but right now it just makes you feel more perceived. Like he knew how you felt and was rubbing this all in your face. He couldn't possibly be that cruel though, right?

"Well that's not really my problem is it?" you snap, and Spencer's reaction is instantaneous. His scoff rings in your ears.

"Yeah, actually it is." he shoots back, and you rear back in surprise. What was that supposed to mean. "You know this is getting really old." and your strangled gasp escapes you before you can stop it.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you narrow your eyes as you set your glare on him. He's got his own challenging sort of glance on his face, almost like he's daring you to keep playing dumb. You will. If only to push him to spit out whatever was so clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. "Go on. Please tell me, Mr. All knowing." you press and his eyes roll. You look like a perturbed toddler ready to fling yourself on the ground and scream.

"Grow up." is all he says, and it slices you clean in half. "If you're gonna play the role of the jealous little girl, at least respect me enough to not play dumb about it when you're caught." and then he's leaving you sitting at your desk, and you're gawking.

Fuck.

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pandoraslxna · 2 months

Text

Stepbro!Lo‘ak x female omatikaya reader

⋆｡° ✮ Minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: dirty talk, stepcest, mentions of masturbating, in public, mentions of oral, cum eating, voyeurism (?), Lo‘ak being a flustered mess, perv!Lo‘ak

⋆｡° ✮ Adult Lo‘ak art by the amazing @Cinetrix 🩵

"You know what I like?"

Your voice is calm and quiet, words whispered into Lo‘aks ear as you lean against his side and his gaze flicks up and around the gathering. Everyone seems to be busy, his mother and father deep in a conversation with some of the clans eldest. He swallows nervously, his voice just as quiet as yours.

"What?"

He takes a handful of berries and pushes them past his lips, trying just a little too hard to appear unfazed by the fact that a little skin to skin contact with his what dad called step sister sent his heart racing.

"That wet slippery noise when you jerk off and think I'm sleeping."

Lo‘ak almost chokes on his food, sending him into a coughing fit that draws the attention of Neteyam and Spider to them that sit just a few feet away. Worried eyes fall on him before he gets himself under control again.

"What!?"

"I said, that wet–"

"I heard you! Great mother, I- I just I- What!?"

You giggle and lean even more into his side, an innocent gesture that catches Jake’s attention from across the fire. His father smiles, glad to see that his son treats the new addition of the family with such kindness. If only he knew…

"I have to admit, it gets me pretty hot", you tell him, batting your pretty long lashes as you look up at him and Lo‘ak isn’t sure if this is actually happening right now. He’s not sure he can actually hear you or if he’s hallucinating. You don’t seem very fazed by his stunned expression and the sheer horror on his face as you keep going, unbothered by the fact that if Neteyam or Spider or literally anyone around them decided to pay closer attention to them, they would hear what you were saying.

"I figured you'd be the type to be more sneaky about it, you know. But jerking off like that when I'm laying just two and a half feet away, Lolo? That's brave, even for you."

Lo‘ak swallowed. His throat made an odd noise of it‘s own when he tried to talk, so he cleared his throat, his hands clenching and unclenching and fuck, there was sweat beading on his temples and—

"It's not like I really mind or anything", you went on and great— great mother your hand is on his knee and he almost jumps out of his skin when it moves just an inch further up his thigh. "I get antsy myself if I don't scratch that itch at least once a day."

"Once a day?" Lo’ak bursts out before he can even think about it. "Daily's a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"You tell me. I haven't slept straight through the night for ten moons now."

That makes him blush now. So you’ve heard him all this time?

"Why are you even telling me that all now?"

You shrug. "I don’t know. I guess maybe I just wanted my new big brother to tell me all about it."

"All about what? I– I don't even know what we're talking about anymore!"

Another giggle. This time, the sound of it sends a full on body shiver through him. "I want to know what makes you go off so quick all the time."

Face heating up in flustered embarrassment, Lo‘ak frowned at you.

"Are you serious?"

"Hmh. C'mon, Lolo. Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about."

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I- I don't-"

"You're noisy too, you know", you added with a smug little grin. "Aside from all the panting and moaning, I mean." A weighty pause. "Sometimes it actually sounds like you’re beating it. So wet and rough. You want it that hard? Me, I like it varied. Keep me guessing."

"Eywa, okay, okay. Fine", Lo‘ak cut you off before you could go on with your rambling. Not that his dick could get any harder under his loincloth by now. He shifted on his seat, nervously glancing down at you and then back to the people around them before a mumbled quietly, "Your mouth."

A long pause and then, "That's it? Hm. I mean, I get it, it's a good mouth and all, but that's all you got? My mouth." This time it’s less of a giggle and more of a laugh and one of your hands comes up to cover your mouth from being too loud.

"Lips, specifically?" Lo’ak ventured.

"You suck at this."

"What am I supposed to say? I- I don't actually think about things while I'm at it, they just... pop up!" He tried to reason, yet you seemingly enjoyed the way he panicked and scrambled to find a better choice of words. "Don't blame me for fixating on your blowjob lips!"

That made you pause your laughing, your fingertips now tracing the outline of your bottom lip and don’t look, he thinks to himself. Don’t fucking look. "So that’s what you’ve been thinking about, huh?"

"Oh, great mother", he cursed himself, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would’ve helped him disappear.

"You imagine them all fucked red and wet, hm?" Your voice had suddenly grown more sultry and the realization made his cock pulsate underneath his restraining coverings.

"Something like that", he murmured. There was a dangerous pause, before he added, "Now I’ll probably think about what else you might let me get away with. Besides listening to me jerking off at night, I mean."

A smile tugged at your lips at this. "Like?"

"Small stuff. Like... like if you'd just lay down and let me jerk off on you."

"Hmm, I think so, yes."

Lo’ak closed his eyes again, then tipped his head back. "I meant if that was all I did. Just jerking off while you, kind of, watch me?"

Again, "Yes."

Oh. He wet his lips. "I’ve been thinking about jerking off and … and would you eat it? My cum, I mean. I’ve been imagining watching you lick it off my fingers. Would you–?"

Slightly lower, softer, "Yes."

"If- I mean I know I would like it when you suck me off, I bet you're good at it," and saying this was so much easier with his eyes closed but he had to look at you, see your expression for what came now, "but if you'd let me, if I just held your head still so I could–"

Lo‘ak stopped, swallowed. His cock was so painful hard right now, but he waited for you to pick up where he left off, finish it, but all you gave him was a tiny pleased, "Go on."

"I want to fuck your mouth. I really, really want to."

"How would you want to do that, Lolo?" You tilt you head and it’s just now that he realized how close your hand had wandered up his thigh and he might actually come right in his loincloth if this kept going for another minute, but fucking shit he needed to get this out before he bursts, no matter what your response to it might be.

"Hard. Hard enough to make your voice go rough."

"Yes." It took him a long minute to realise that this wasn't just agreement, it was permission.

"You… you would actually let me do anything I want, wouldn't you?"

Your hand then left his thigh, much to his disappointment and he watched with wide fearful eyes as you got up to stand, his face so flustered red that his skin prickled.

"Only one way to find out", you finally said, before looking around for any possibly unwanted listeners. "Meet me at the waterfall in ten minutes", you said with a wink and Lo‘ak finally exhaled the breath he was holding this entire time.

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normansnt · 2 months

Text

Knight in shining armor

(Hazbin Adam x singer!male reader)

(Not my art, idk whose sorry I got it from pinterest but credits to the artist cuz he would SO wear that I cant😭)

Warnings: fist fight

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"FUCK YEAAHHHHHH THATS MY BOYFRIEND MF" yelled Adam to a random person at your concert.

He always did that. Whenever he went to one of your concerts (always, I am not kidding the man has not missed a single one) he yelled to every one of your songs because he knew them inside out and after each song he yelled to someone that you're his boyfriend.

It was sweet in your eyes he was truly your number one fan. However on more than one occasion this has gotten out of hand. Like right now.

Sometimes people get annoyed at his yelling even though it is a rock concert he is still the loudest one. But this time it was different. This time something happened that actually bothered him.

He was yelling about how much he loves you and how you are his boyfriend again when he overheard something that he didn't like.

"For real? That gorgeous singer is dating that flop no fucking way."

"I know right? I gotta say I wouldn't mind hearing the singers voice moaning my-" Adam didn't wait longer to hear the end of the sentence he straight on punched that guy.

"I fucking DARE you to finish that sentence." Adam literally growled. Even though this was heaven, assholes were present here too.

The fight got so big that you had to stop your performance and stop it.

"Adam- Adam stop" you tried to get your boyfriend off of the two guys who he was now fighting.

"Let me go babe, I'm gonna fucking murder those two mother fuckers-"

"Adam, they already had enough you won." You tried arguing with him while you dragged him to your dressing room. The two guys laying on the floor beaten to pulp.

Once you closed the door, the ruckus outside got just a bit quieter and you could finally take a deep breath.

"What happened this time?" You asked your boyfriend while getting the first aid kit and patching him up. He was much better of than the other guys thats true. But he still had some scratches and a black eye.

Adam told you the whole story of what happened and you listened intently while gently putting some alcohol at a deep cut on his nose.

"And then I was like- aww fuck babe warn me next time" he started whining because of the alcohol.

You sighed.

"Listen Adam, I appreciate what you did, those pigs said some disgusting shit and you were a great knight in shining armor but I worked really hard to get this gig and you know that" you said trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Babe, your boyfriend is the fucking Adam, tell me where you want to preform and you'll get in within seconds I can take care of that."

"I know Adam but I really wanna accomplish some things on my own." You sighed again.

Adam knew he fucked up, he sees first hand how much work you put into your music. But he just couldn't help it this is the kind of thing that pisses him off to no end. His first two wives left him for someone else and even though he might act confident he was terrified that you would leave him, too. He didn't want to loose someone he loved so much.

You put your hand on his cheek and made him look at you.

"Hey, its ok I understand." Thats all you needed to say. You knew about Lilith and Eve leaving him. And you knew how insecure he actually felt. You have been dating for almost 6 years now you knew him way too well.

You kissed him to let him know that you weren't mad. He kissed back with enthusiasm, he loved kissing you. It might be true that he has kissed a lot of people before you came along but he always said that you were his favorite kisser of all time. He just loved the feeling of your lips against his.

"(Y/N)...I- listen I mean what I said really, wherever you wanna play I can hook you up."

You chuckled lightly. You knew this was the closest thing you are gonna get out of him as an apology, the man was not good at apologizing. But you already knew that, and loved him nonetheless.

"I know honey I know." You put your forehead on his.

The wholesome moment was interrupted when you both started hearing chanting from outside.

"Is that-?"

"THEY ARE CHANTING YOUR NAME BABY COME ON GET YOUR BRETTY ASS OUT THERE"

And there he was again, your stupid boyfriend.

You laughed an snatched up your guitar.

"All right baby you wanna watch from back stage?" You asked back as you held out your hand to him.

"FUCK YEAAHH"

And with that you two walked out of your dressing room laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HE IS JUST A STUPID LITTLE MEN HELP I LOVE HIM SM IDK WHY😭😭

Hope you guys enjoyed😘~

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin adam

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Text

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter One

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

Next ->

The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.

The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.

You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.

War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.

When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.

Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.

You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.

But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.

Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.

You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together.

You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.

The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.

Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.

For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.

The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.

At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.

----

Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”

You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.

“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”

“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.

You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.

Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.

This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.

His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.

A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.

That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.

This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.

One, two, three, four, five... six.

It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.

“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.

You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.

“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him.

“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.

“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”

“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”

Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.

Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.

Something more mischievous.

“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”

Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”

Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.

“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.

He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”

So that’s what his voice sounds like.

It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.

Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.

“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.

His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”

“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.

If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.

“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.

“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.

Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.

Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.

“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.

You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –

“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.

“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.

He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.

He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.

“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.

Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.

“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.

You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.

“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.

Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.

“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.

“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.

“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.

“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.

“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.

Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?

“Look. I see you –”

The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“...staring.”

You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –

Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.

“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.

“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.

You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”

“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.

Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.

“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.

“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.

He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”

“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.

“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”

“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.

A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.

----

Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.

You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.

The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.

There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.

The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.

Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.

It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.

And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.

“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.

“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.

“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.

“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.

He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.

“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.

“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.

You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.

How does it feel?

“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”

His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.

“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.

You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.

“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.

It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.

It’s so enticing, so addictive.

“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.

“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.

“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.

You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.

Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.

“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.

Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.

“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.

“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”

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parkerslatte · 5 months

Note

Congratulations :) 21, 48 with azriel :)

A/N: Thank you so much and thank you for your request :)

_____

Hands To Myself

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: none

Summary: At a family dinner, Y/N and Azriel can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves.

Prompts Used: 21. You can't keep your u hands off each other, even though no one knows about the two of you. 48. "You've been smiling much more recently."

3000 Follower Celebration

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

From across the dining room table, Y/N met Azriel’s hazel eyes. The eyes that she loved more than anything. From a distance, all of the colours that made up the unique colour blurred together but Y/N knew all of the different shades of browns, grey’s and the small flecks of green. Looking into Azriel’s eyes was Y/N’s own personal work of art that Feyre could never quite capture accurately. They were so unique to him.

Y/N watched Azriel raise his fork to his mouth, clearly trying to fight off the smile trying to break out on his face. Even though she knew that it was a bad idea, Y/N smiled in Azriel’s direction. There was a lot to love and admire about the shadowsinger but the one thing that stood out amongst the rest was his smile. It was what drew Y/N in in the first place.

At first it was those small smiles he would only offer to people he barely knew as a greeting. Then it progressed to his smiles of comfort, and Y/N had been on the receiving end of one too many of those smiles. However it wasn’t long before those smiles of comfort transitioned to the smallest of smiles where a sliver of Azriel’s teeth were visible. Those were the smiles that his family usually bore witness to. Those were the smiles when Azriel was most at ease.

However, as they grew closer and closer, Y/N began to notice Azriel’s smiles begging to get larger and larger. Showing off his one dimple on his left cheek. And it didn’t take Y/N long to notice that those smiles were reserved strictly for her.

Y/N found herself smiling down at her food as she cut into a potato. Underneath the table, she stretched her legs out until she brushed against Azriel’s foot. Touch he didn’t react visibly, Y/N felt the slight brush of his leg against hers. Y/N glanced up and met Azriel’s eyes once more. All she wanted was to abandon dinner completely and drag him all the way back to her apartment on the outskirts of Velaris.

But, alas, that was not an option.

Y/N and Azriel had only been together for a little over five months but they had known each other nearly two years, ever since Y/N had been brought in to help Feyre with her pregnancy. Of course two years was nothing compared to both of their considerable lifetimes, but to both Y/N and Azriel, it was like they had known each other their whole lives.

Soon after Y/N took Azriel out on a date, the two both agreed to keep their relationship private. Not because of what the rest of the Inner Circle would say, but because they both simply preferred their privacy and they knew that if the rest of the Inner Circle knew, it would only mean relentless teasing.

At first it was easy to keep their relationship private but as soon as it began to get more serious and the attachment grew, it was harder and harder to keep their hands off one another.

After dinner, the group headed into the living room to relax in a more comfortable environment. As they all walked the short distance to the living room, Y/N and Azriel hung back, his arm caressing her lower back. Goosebumps immediately spread across Y/N’s body. She had wanted to feel his touch all night and now that she finally did, she craved more.

“I can’t wait to drag you back to my apartment,” Y/N muttered, her hand wrapping around his.

Azriel bent down so his lips grazed her ear. “And do what?”

Y/N tilted her gaze to look at him, her eyes meeting his. “Whatever you want.”

That beautiful smile lit up his face as his grip on her tightened the smallest amount. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Y/N glanced to where everyone had disappeared in the living room, the hallway was empty. “Well there’s no one out here right now.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Azriel’s lips were on hers as he pressed her against the wall. Y/N sighed in content as she parted her lips and just let Azriel devour her. From hours of being deprived of his touch, all of Y/N’s senses were heightened and she could already feel herself becoming putty in Azriel’s arms to shape and mould however he wanted and she would allow him. Her fingers threaded in his hair and pulled him even closer. Azriel obliged and wrapped his strong arms around her body and pressed her against his. One arm was around her waist while the other gently cradled the back of her head so she wouldn’t bang it against the wall.

The feeling of being in Azriel’s arms was like no other. Of course Y/N had had her fair share of lovers in the past but none had been as attentive and caring as Azriel. He had waited over five hundred years for a love like Y/N and now that he finally had it, there was no chance he would ever let it go. Y/N savoured every touch, every word of affirmation, every single moment they spent together. She savoured them all. Of course she knew that there would be many more to come but that was just how it was with them, the amount of love shared between the two was unlike any other either of them had experienced before. They were each other’s salvation.

“Come on you two!” Cassian’s voice chimed from the living room. “We have Rhys’s good wine!”

Y/N and Azriel pulled away from one another and Azriel reluctantly stepped back. “We should go, before they get suspicious.”

“Yes we should,” Y/N agreed.

Neither of them made a move for the living room. Y/N simply chuckled as she leant up and pecked Azriel’s cheek. “Come on, or we never will.”

Azriel followed, his hand clasped in Y/N’s but as soon as they were outside of the living room door he dropped it. Y/N immediately felt the warmth of his hand disappear and she sighed.

“There you two are,” Cassian exclaimed. “I was about to search for you.”

Azriel simply rolled his eyes and took a seat on the couch and Y/N followed, squeezing herself in the only available spot next to him. Her whole side was pressed against his. Y/N wasn’t sure that this was a particularly good idea as all she wanted to do was curl up to his side. As hard as it was, she refrained herself.

Y/N tilted her head to look at Azriel and he sent her a smile. Y/N returned it.

***

The alcohol had hit everyone and Y/N had found herself with her back against the arm of the couch while her legs were draped over Azriel’s lap. She was on her fourth glass of wine and the only thing she could think of was the male she loved so dearly. His hand rested on her shin and his thumb traced patterns upon the soft skin. Of course when she and Azriel were more sober, they had refrained from any touching that wasn’t necessary, but now that had gone out of the window. Y/N wasn’t even entirely sure that Azriel realised what he was doing.

While Y/N sipped on her glass of wine, she threw her head back and laughed at something Cassian had said. The grip on her shin slowly rose until it rested just above her knee and Y/N felt like her body was on fire. She was just glad that everyone else was affected by the wine as she hoped that none of them even noticed.

“What about you, Az?” Rhys said.

Azriel tore his gaze away from Y/N for a brief moment to look at his brother. “What about me?”

“You’ve been smiling much more recently,” Rhys said, his arm tightening around Feyre’s shoulders. “Care to tell us the reason why?”

Azriel shrugged, though his grip on Y/N’s thigh tightened. Y/N knew that she should move position, maybe sit away from Azriel but his touch was simply addicting.

“I don’t know,” Azriel answered, looking around at the rest of his family, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a second longer. “I’m surrounded by my family.”

Cassian laughed, throwing his head back. “We should get you drunk more often, you turn into much more of a sap.”

Azriel glared at Cassian before his hand travelled higher on Y/N’s thigh.

“Oh, Cass, leave him alone,” Y/N said, laughing. “It’s not his fault that he loves us all so much that he smiles when he thinks about it.”

Azriel looked at Y/N and tried to fight the smile but failed miserably.

“See? He’s doing it now,” Y/N said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Y/N wasn’t sure exactly what came over her as everything about their position was not subtle. Somehow throughout the duration of the conversation she had found herself sitting on Azriel’s lap and one of his arms was wrapped around her tightly holding onto her hip. She wished she had never drunk as much as she did, maybe then she would have more self control.

It seemed as if Azriel didn’t care as he only looked at her, nothing but love in his eyes. There was a smile on his face though not the one only she was allowed to see. This was different, it was one Y/N had never seen before and she wished to see again. This smile communicated so much in such a smile gesture. I love you, the smile seemed to say.

Those three words had never been exchanged between the two, of course they both loved each other but neither had said it yet. Saying it made everything real and even though both Y/N and Azriel were very sure that the only thing they wanted was each other, it was still scary.

Y/N found herself leaning closer to Azriel. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against his and utter those three simple words they held so much weight. But she couldn’t, not with everyone around.

Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away and Azriel pulled her closer, unable to keep his hand off her. The desire for him gradually rose the more he touched her. Even when he conversed with Cassian and Nesta and Y/N conversed with Elain and Lucien, she was hyper aware of the places Azriel was touching on her body. She needed him desperately. And from the way Azriel was gripping onto her, he clearly felt the same.

As soon as Azriel’s attention was back on her, Y/N leant down to whisper in his ear. “Let’s go home.”

Azriel looked into Y/N’s eyes and that one look held the same three words his smile did and he knew in that moment that he needed to leave with her in his arms.

Y/N finished the final sip of her wine before slipping from Azriel’s lap. “I’m going to head home, I’m quite tired and I’m meant to be at work early in the morning.”

“I can walk her home,” Azriel offered almost immediately, rising to his feet. Y/N smiled up at him before bidding goodbye to everyone.

As soon as they left the room and were safely around the corner, Y/N gripped onto Azriel’s hand and as soon as they were in the cool night air, she tugged him down and pressed her lips against his.

“I love you,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Azriel smiled, the one smile Y/N had fallen in love with. “I love you too.”

Y/N sighed in content as she rested her forehead against his. “I am going to love hearing that every day.”

Azriel didn’t respond as he captured her lips once more in a short and sweet kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go home, my love.”

Y/N smiled and happily walked home with Azriel, her heart bursting with love.

***

As soon as the group heard the front door close, Cassian turned to the rest of the group. “For the spymaster of the Night Court, he is not very subtle.”

“Did you see Y/N?” Nesta said. “She was practically undressing him with her eyes at dinner.”

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” Elain asked.

Rhys leaned back on the couch. “I can tell you exactly how long they’ve been together.”

“Oh yeah?” Nesta challenged. “And how long exactly, Rhysand?”

“A little over five months,” Rhys replied. “Az was late for a meeting with me and when he finally arrived over an hour later, I had never seen him smile as much as he did.”

A soft smile made its way onto Feyre’s face. “I always had a feeling ever since they met. They just click.”

Rhys smiled at his mate. “I’m sure they are mates, the bond hasn’t seemed to snap just yet.”

“And you are so sure of that?” Feyre questioned.

Rhys nodded. “I am, because he looks at her like she holds the world in the palm of her hands. And that Feyre, darling, is exactly how I looked at you.”

Feyre smiled and pressed her lips against Rhys’s in a quick but soft kiss. “I’m glad, they both deserve all of the love in the world.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fluff

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carolmunson · 9 months

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caught like a fool without a line. (older!modern!eddie)

part five of who knows how many. orange colored sky setlist.

summary: we've been seeing eddie for a month and the fear starts to settle in. with eddie's past and present making things difficult and your own insecurities brewing, things come to a bit of a head one night when you're out at a bar. featuring older!robin and our favorite guy older!steve from @loveshotzz series 'all i really want is you'.

tw: age gappy (reader and eddie are 12 years apart, but reader is late late 20s/early 30s and eddie and late late 30s/early 40s throughout this story so it's not like so bad). drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, discussions of eddie's promiscuous past (i know some people don't like when eddie is a slut), implied that reader wears eddie's clothes to bed but not that reader is small. gifs by: @keerysbrandnewbg and @eddiemunsonsource

songspiration: open | rhye and feelings | lauv

You swirled the big ice cube in the tumbler with an unenthusiastic flair, making the orangey red liquid in the glass nearly spill. “And I don’t get it, we had a really nice first date and then made out again the next week and talked all the time and now he’s barely texting me back,” you complain, the tart grapefruit of your friend’s new take on an Aperol Spritz floods your mouth at your next sip.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” your friend Charlie suggests from behind the bar, “He’s older, you said, right? He might just not be on his phone as much. Do you like the drink? Is it too bitter?”

“It’s bitter but not in a bad way, in a good citrussy way,” you nod, “And yeah he might not be on his phone as much but then why just sort of suddenly drop off and barely respond? Like, look at this.” You take out your phone, laying it on the bar and scrolling through a plethora of blue texts with some sprinkles of gray in between, “I look so pathetic.” “I think you just really like him,” she shrugs, smirking, “And I think that’s good, you haven’t been this excited about someone for a little bit.” “Yeah, but every time I’m excited about someone it bites me in the ass,” you lean on the palm of your hand, flipping your phone over, “Plus like, I’m not trying to be with anyone like that right now.”

Your friend gives you a look, “Okay, sure.”

“What do you mean ‘okay, sure’?” you scoff.

“You’re not trying to be with anyone like your ex,” Charlie corrects, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, “You go on and on about how you just want someone to take care of things for you. Maybe he’s that kind of dude.”

“He has someone come every Sunday to clean his house for him,” you sip the drink again, “I don’t think he can take care of anything for me, considering I can clean my own house.” The bar slowly starts to fill up with the after work crowd, leaving Charlie to run back and forth between you and pouring beers for incoming patrons.

“He can afford to have someone come and clean his house,” she says with a smirk, holding down the tap while she fills a glass with Lagunitas, "That's kind of hot." You flip your phone back over and sigh, no new messages.

If anything is true in the music and art world Eddie is involved in it's that Eddie Munson is a professional loverboy. Never with someone for too long, never long enough for them to want something more than fun -- never long enough for 'Are you my boyfriend?' never long enough for 'What are we?' It got easier the older he got, the less women and men cared about labels. You were right to make that judgement about his key carabiner hanging on the front of his keys. Eddie Munson is a slut, and everyone knows it but you.

He had two actual girlfriends in his early twenties, but nothing quite like his friendship with Steve. 'Platonic life partner, sometimes,' they'd list it as -- never too afraid to get affectionate. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, Eddie held him so many nights when Emma died he felt like they left an indent in the center of the bed. He touched and loved the people who loved him back, but to anyone else – he never wanted to get too close. He always gave out just enough of him – enough for people to keep wanting more, a satisfaction he basked in now since he was such a loner in high school with no notches to his belt.

But now he’s blabbering on to Robin over a huge plate of nachos about how you texted him all day. You texted him all day and he had his phone charging in the kitchen while he was upstairs in his office so he didn’t know and now it’s very clear that you’re upset.

"Okay? How is this different from the girl you were seeing over Christmas?" Robin laughs over a mouthful of loaded nachos, a frosty pink Frosé next to her to beat the heat. Her eyes crinkle closed, a smattering of freckles stretching on the apples of her cheeks when she smiles. The heat of a sunburn runs soft pink over her nose, outside of the gray in her sand blonde hair that she'll never dye, she looks almost the same as she did in high school. “So you didn’t text her back,” she shrugs, “You leave her alone, she fades off into the distance – just like the girl before that, and the guy before that, and the girl before that. Why're you talking about it like it's the end of the world?” "I care," he groans, turning his phone to show Robin your messages. You'd sent them every few hours, but most of the messages from the morning and afternoon were from when he was working -- phone nestled on the charger down in the kitchen while he clacked away on code upstairs. By the time he saw them he was embarrassed, and you were probably already at your friend's bar. Eddie tries to explain the whole situation while Robin scrolls through with a careful and soft expression, a tiny smile forming on her face.

“I already fucked it up,” Eddie sighs, pulling his hair up into a ponytail with volume hair stylists would envy. He runs his hand over his jaw, following the edge of it to land behind his neck where he squeeze gently on the muscle.

Robin shrugs again, passing his phone back to him, “Par for the course, kid.”

His eyes narrow, “I’m older than you.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “You always fuck it up, Ed. That's your thing. You walk into a room and someone leaves crying. You've never done the whole sappy love thing with someone, why do you think you're changing your tune now?”

“I know but – fuck Robin, I didn’t even sleep with her yet,” he says a little louder than he intends. His tattooed hand wraps around the Pilsner glass in front of him, dripping in condensation, bringing it to his lips.

“That’s a new development,” she raises her brows, crossing her legs, "You never wait this long."

“I just…I don’t…I shit – I don’t know.”

“What did Steve say?” Robin asks, teeth biting down on the straw to her drink, “He always has good girl advice.”

“I haven’t even told Steve.”

“At all?!” she nearly spits out the frose all over the nachos.

“Rob we just buried Em,” he explains softly, “Like, she’s not even fuckin’ cold yet. I can’t just come out of the woodwork five months later like ‘Hey man, think I actually met a girl I’d consider a future with. We’ve been seeing each other for a month’. And like – what if I’m just psyching myself out? What if this is just an early midlife crisis?”

Robin takes a slow sip, nodding while he speaks before taking a pause. “Ed, I think you’ll feel better if you tell Steve,” she offers, “I think he’d get your head straight about it. But in the meantime, you should text her back.”

“What do I even say?” he huffs, shoving a loaded nacho into his mouth. “Try honesty with a woman for once in your entire life, Rockstar boy,” Robin plasters on a customer service smile that makes him let out a frustrated ‘tsss’, “It won’t kill you.” "Here, I'll text Nance and ask her -- she's our next best bet," Robin takes out her phone and types with the fervor of a teenager with a sugar high. Eddie sips his beer, looking at the screen of his phone while the cursor to type blinks back at him.

You stumble out of the bar, too crowded now to have fun with your friend. Over tired and over served you make your way down the street and around the corner, stopping to lean against the brick wall of a different bar when you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You take a minute, taking in your surroundings. People are so loud down here, and everyone is so pretty. Street lights are there and gone and there and gone as cars whiz passed on Delancey, the bustle of the Friday night life in the LES is a buzz with excitement. You're already a little down for the count. Your phone feels like a paper weight in your hand, sighing with satisfaction at the notificaiton on the screen. But your chest still aches with annoyance, how many times were you gonna get drunk at a bar with a swollen heart over some dumb boy? Man? Guy?

You don't want him to come save you, you know how to get home. You can see the green bulbs of the train entrance and the glow of the McDonalds 'M' on the corner in the distance. Down the stairs, one train into Brooklyn, cross platform transfer -- you've done it drunker than this countless times before. You text Charlie with an air of victory before putting your phone back in your smart black faux leather bag slung over your shoulder. The warm summer air flows over your legs, catching the hem of your a-line skirt -- the light material flowing in the breeze. Time isn't working quite right for you but it feels like it's been five minutes and he hasn't shown up, so you make your way to the edge of the corner to cross.

"Whoa there, Peach," you hear Eddie's gruff voice from the side of you, the pull on your arm the same as when he steadied you at Trader Joe's a month ago, "Careful now."

You pull out of his hold, glassy eyes focused on the black and white stripes on the street ahead of you, "I know what I'm doin'."

“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks softly. Eddie steps in front of you, guiding you to the light post to get out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Home,” you slur, “M’goin home. Trainssright there.”

“I don’t think you’re good to take the train,” his voice is gentle, hand coming out to hold you at the waist, “I can get you a car.”

“I’m fine.” It's the only sentence that comes out lucid, his jaw ticks.

"You don't look fine," he looks down into your glassy eyes, a look he's seen before. The way his mama would drown herself in whiskey and stumble into the kitchen so the bruises would't hurt so bad. The way an old fling would slur to him about how she can't live without him. The way you look so sad and it's his fault.

"I'm. Fine," you reiteratie. The light changes, the bright white of the walk sign flashes across the street. You go to pass him but his hands place themselves on your shoulders. "You really wanna get boiled alive on the train?" he asks with a smile, "You don't wanna take a car?" You sigh, why does he have to be so handsome? The gin from your last two drinks travels from your head to your thighs, pulling them together at the sight of his smile. He has that ratty vest on, a CBGC t-shirt sticking to him under it, the sleeves completely torn off. He smells like cedar and citrus again, a hint of a left over cigarette. His grays catch the light of the over head lamp, bouncing like tinsel in his pony tail sitting on the crown of his head. "Can we go to your house?" you ask, voice raised a higher octave than normal. His face blanches, "Aw honey, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to think that I --" "Please?"

"Thanks, have a good night," Eddie waves off the delivery man with a smile as he rides away on his bike. With plastic in hand he makes his way back up the stairs where you've set up shop on one of the stools in his kitchen, head down on the island counter.

"Food's here," he says quietly. Dealing with drunk you was very much like dealing with drunk Robin in the early 2010s, overgrown toddler in a bad mood. You let out a half hearted 'Yay', head coming up, eyes half closed in the kind of sleepiness a few mixed drinks and some beers can send you into. He goes into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Poland Spring and a beer for himself. The waters get placed in front of you while he tends to getting the food plated up.

You ignore the water -- Blue Moon bottle staring right at you, and to be honest -- a cold cirtussy beer sounds sooo good right now. You reach forward, the glass ice cold against your palm now that the liquor has fully settled, heating up your skin. The sound of glass on the counter cobbles through the kitchen when you slide it closer to you, alerting Eddie to the noise.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, snatching the bottle out of your hand, “Can you behave?”

You pout when his eyes narrow at you, heart thumping guiltily in your chest, shame brewing in your skin. You nod back at him with sad eyes, a twinge plucking in your heart strings.

“Don’t give me that face,” he warns, “Don't act up."

“I don’t like when you’re mean,” you mumble softly, running your fingers in shapes over the butcher's block counter top. He sighs, plating your sandwich and pulling your fries from the bag. He kisses your temple while he slides the plate in front of you. "I'm sorry, honey," he says quietly, but gin always puts you in the mood to argue. "You don't have to talk to me like, like -- you don't have to talk to me -hic!- like I'm a kid," you hurtle out, surprised at your own gumption, "I'm not."

"I know," he says, putting the bags into his recycling bin under the sink, "I'm not talking to you in any kind of way Peach I -- " "You don't even like me," you state. His head cocks to the side, leaning on his hands while they hold on to the edge of the island. "Who said that?" "I was -hic!- I was talking to someone at the bar about --" you start, lump building in your throat, "About you and um -- they said, they said it sounds like --" Your eyes water, "Like I'm just for fun." "Oh," he says, looking down at his hands. The weight of this conversation falling into his stomach from his chest like a deep pit.

"Like I'm just fun for you to play with -- but like, you don't even wanna have -- you don'even wanna h-have-have seggzwithme so like -- you don't even like me." More and more if your insecurities flow out of you like a broken faucet, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

"And like you probably don't even think I'm pretty."

"Oh, baby, no," he coos, brows tilted in sympathy while you drunkenly let all your sober fears out, "I think you're so pretty."

"So pretty," you repeat, wiping your face with your hands, "But that's it."

Eddie takes a deep breath, coming over to you and pressing his warm soft lips to your cheek, "Let's talk about this in the morning, sweetheart. I'm gonna get upstairs ready for you."

"I should just go home," you sniffle, embarrassment starting to flow through you with your bloodstream, burning all your pores, "I'm sorry." "No, no, don't go home," he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek, "Stay. Just stay."

He makes sure you eat, watching you come back to yourself the fuller and more hydrated you get. You're easy to lead upstairs, pliant and tired now, needy almost -- not that you'd ever admit to it. You tease him about his 'old man pills' when he takes out his perscription high dose Motrin he got for some old back pain. Great for when you might get a killer hangover these days. You grimace at the Pedialyte mixture he has you drink before you get tucked into his bed -- out before you can even feel him grab the pillows and a throw from the other side of you. He settles in downstairs on the sectional, sighing while he thinks about the way your face scrunches when you're about to cry. He flicks through his Hulu options on the big screen in front of him but nothing really seems to catch his attention. Mind wandering to you asleep upstairs but knowing better than to crawl into bed next to you when you're not yourself enough to say it's okay. The familiar buzz of his phone goes off on the coffee table, when he picks it up his face is on the front screen while someone calls in on FaceTime. "You're callin' late, man," Eddie grins lazily, socked feet sticking out to rest on the worn walnut table in front of him, "You okay?" "Yeah me and Bandit just got in from camping. Got some pics of him to send you, he's such a scamp." "You have fun?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. Eddie's voice is quiet while he speaks making Steve's head cock to the side. The lights changes on his face while he walks from the living room to his bedroom. "Yeah we had a lot of fun," Steve starts, "Why're you whispering?" "What do you mean?" Eddie asks, getting up off the couch to pad back into the kitchen. "You're talkin' all quiet," Steve smirks, "You got a girl over or something?" Ed puts his phone down and huffs while he grabs a bag of chips from the cabinet. Steve giggle, leaning his head in closer to the screen. "You do, don't you?" he guffaws, "Am I interrupting?" "She's sleeping," Eddie says softly, picking up the phone again and leaning against the counter. "Aw, so you ended up texting her back? Good."

"What the fuck? Who told you that?" Eddie's brows furrow, spitting through a mouthful of chips. "Robin, obviously." The light changes on him again while he makes his way to his own kitchen. Bandit's little pants and huffs echoing into the phone, "You think Nancy came up with the 'Hey pretty girl,' opening? She's never been a flirt."

"Well it worked so, congrats."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Steve pulls his own bag of chips out. They crunch together. "It just didn't seem right," he shrugs, "Y'know with Emma it's hard to be like, 'Hey I think I might actually see a future with this girl I've only been seeing for a few weeks.' Like, you just lost the love of your life."

"I'm not gonna be sad to hear that you're into someone, Ed," Steve smiles softly, voice calm, "Tell me about her."

So he does, he tells Steve about how he kept running into you that day at Trader Joe's and how he felt so stupid for not waiting at the doors for you but he was too scared. You were so cute in your bike shorts and sneakers, so careful in how you chose the fruit you were gonna get. When he saw you on the platform he knew it was like he was getting a second chance -- "Maybe Em thought you should stop being such a whore and sent her over," Steve laughs. Ed rolls his eyes but can't hold back his chuckle, watching as Steve rests his chin on the heel of his hand while he listens. Eddie talks about the picnic date, how he immediately felt comfortable telling you about his mom. The rain, the kiss in his apartment -- how he could've fucked you but didn't. How all your little dates had gone since.

"Oh so you like her," Steve nods.

"I'm scared," Eddie says quietly. "Scared?"

"What if it's just a fluke and I hurt her? Or I get hurt?" Eddie asks, "And like -- please don't take this the wrong way but like -- what if I put in all this effort and then lose her?"

"Like how I lost Em?"

Eddie nods slowly, not wanting to say the quiet part out loud. He talks about what you said when you got back to his place, how you think he doesn't really like you, how he doesn't think you're pretty. You're just for fun. "But this doesn't feel like 'just for fun', does it?" Steve challenges gently, "Cause if she was just for fun you would've texted me about if she could deep throat or not."

Eddie chuckles darkly, pink rising on his cheeks -- Steve chuckles too. Still gross boys who are gross.

"You should tell her how you feel," he encourages, "What's the worst that can happen?" "Everything."

"Okay," Steve shrugs, "I lost everything. And what happened?"

"We all came to pick you up." "Exactly. We'll be here to pick you up, too. Don't like..." Steve sighs, "Don't just immediately throw something away just because you're not used to it. The more you stand there and think about what you want, the less she's gonna think you want it."

"I know..." "So let her know you want it."

They talk for an hour, both cozied up on their respective couches -- Bandit immediately getting in the frame and yelping at Eddie's face on the screen. The seize in Eddie's chest loosens because maybe this could be okay. Now he just has to make sure you know it.

You wake up the next morning, groggy and dry -- but thankfully not nearly as hungover as you were expecting. Your joints hurt, your stomach's a little jumbled, but no headache and that's what matters the most. You shift in his crisp sheets, turning around to see that the bed is empty next to you -- pillows and throw blanket gone with him. You slept alone. You look at your phone on the bedside table next to a full bottle of water. You chug it while you check your notifications -- 6:11 AM. If anything was true, you always woke up too early when you drank too much the night before. The water sits heavy in your belly, pressing your bladder which was already screaming for you to go to the bathroom. With a sigh you stand up, and when you do, the embarrassment of the night before settles in. Your emotional hangover.

You pad to the bathroom and pee, seeing your face in the mirror like you did the night you got rained out. Your makeup is smeared, face a little bloated -- you do your best to wash it off. The cool water feels good against your skin, still hot from the liquor and dehydration. You pat your face dry and leave the bathroom, lingering at the top of the stairs where he's laying on the couch, already awake. "G'morning," you rasp out. He perks up, head tilting up to look at you from his place in the living room. "Morning, peach," he smiles, "You feelin' okay?"

You nod, ungracefully stomping down the metal steps of the spiral staircase while you get your footing, "Your old man pills must be magic or something."

Eddie pulls back the blanket, scooching back against the cushions to make room for you to lay down next to him, "C'mere, baby."

C'mere, baby runs down your spine, making your throat catch. You make your way towards the couch, crawling in next to him. The living room is quiet, with just some early morning sun pooling into the windows -- like you two are the only people awake on the street this morning. He covers you up, wasting no time wrapping himself around you and pulling you into him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nod into his chest, the scent of his skin mixing with the faint smell of cirtus and cedar, "Did you?" "Normally I'm fine on the couch," he says, voice grizzly and sleepy, "But I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've slept on the couch or I --" "No, it's not that," he shakes his head, catching your gaze, "Probably would've slept better if you were next to me." Your cheeks burn, a smile splittling across your face, "Well I'm here now."

"You are," he nods, leaning up to run his thumb over the apple of your cheek where a stray piece of glitter sits. Remnants of your makeup that you couldn't wash away.

"I'm um...sorry for how I acted last night," you confess, "That's not like -- that's not how I am."

"Don't be sorry," he assures quietly, "I understand." You're both quiet for a moment, the hum of the central air fuzzing the silence between you. "You're not just for fun, peach," he says, a seriousness to his normally playful voice, "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." "I um -- I'm sorry I kind of went a little insane," you shrug, feeling small, "I didn't mean to text all those times and then come here and cry and like --" "Stop apologizing," he says, thumb grazing your lower lip to stop you, "You were just feeling a way, that's okay. I get it." He takes his thumb away, leaning down to give you a kiss that sends you reeling. Warm and soft, delicate. His hands lead his arms around you again, smiling when you reach up to cup his cheek. "I like you," Eddie smirks against your mouth. "I like you, too," you smile when he breaks away. "The deli's open on the corner if you want me to run over and get a bacon, egg, and cheese," he offers quietly. "Why do I feel like you were gonna do that anyway?" you ask in the same tone. "I was," he grins again, "I just wanted to impress you by asking." He sits up, clamboring over you to get some coffee started so it'll be done by the time he gets back. You wait patiently for him, rolling your eyes while he shoves his socked feet in his slides, leaving the house in his pajamas of a t-shirt and black joggers. You prepare the coffees, feeling domestic like you live here -- getting used to where things are already.

He comes back twenty minutes later, sighing when the air conditioning hits him as the door opens, "It's already like, 80 degrees."

"Gross," you reply, face scrunching in the way that he likes, "Coffee is ready." "Oh, thank you." His eyes glitter at the gesture, seeing that you used the same mugs from when he had you over the first time. Those are his favorites, but you'll learn that eventually. The sandwhiches are tossed on the butcher block counter where you cried last night, but your embarrassment melts away when you feel him wrap himself around you again -- like he can't get enough. "I'm playing a show on Thursday at House of Yes," he says, "They're doing a metal theme'd night." "Yeah?" you ask, hands reaching for the plastic baggy and taking out both of your sadwhiches wrapped in foil. His arms still tight around your middle while you maneuver around your kitchen. "You should come," he asks, kissing the top of your head, "I'll get you a ticket."

"I don't know if that's really my scene," you shrug, twisting in his hold to face him, "I'm not like -- I'm not cool and underground like that." "So?" he quirks his brow, "You can be cool and underground for one night to hang out with your hottie rockstar boy-toy."

"That's so gross that you described yourself that way," you laugh, pushing out of his hug and opening your sandwhich, "Like, so cringey, babe." "Babe," he repeats back to you, "I like that. You can call me 'babe' whenever you want." "Duly noted," you agree, teeth sinking into the bread of the roll and breaking into the warm and gooey center. The jumble in your stomach starting to fade away while the grease of the egg soothes it. Eddie takes his sandwhich and coffee to the living room, taking his phone off the coffee table to open up his text conversation with Steve:

she called me babe.

i literally can't even breathe right now.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!steve harrington #stranger things au #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic

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thebellearchives · 11 months

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐑

~ inumaki toge ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : your friend inumaki toge is the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, but does he think the same thing about you?

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : just a small drabble, gn!reader, fluff

‧₊˚ a / n : gorgeous art by @freyzrc 🫶🏻 they’re one of my fav artists here so check out their blog im sure you’ll love it too (‘: ~

i asked for permission to use it so please make sure you do talk to them about it if you’re thinking of doing the same thing

“That’s just rude” you pouted, pretending to be annoyed “going to eat all on their own and leaving us behind”

Toge giggled, you looked over at him. Truth be told everyone had left you two behind in hopes you’d finally make a move on him. And truth be told, you probably weren’t going to do it anyway.

“You don’t mind?” he took a bite of his food before his eyes met yours.

The boy raised his brows until they nearly met, almost as if the answer to your question was painfully obvious. So you raised your eyebrows back, but this time in inquiry, prompting another chuckle to leave his mouth. Toge just shrugged and flicked his hand dismissively, ready to take a last bite.

“Huh, I would’ve thought you’d be at least a little bit annoyed at your two friends leaving to eat without you.” he stopped chewing and squinted, his white lashes blinking twice before grabbing his phone.

Expectantly, you continued eating your food too, taking your time to admire his features. It wasn’t very often that you had the chance to see his bare face, which was probably for the best since most of the time it was almost impossible for you to not stare like an idiot. But Toge was just so pretty, his skin was clear and his lips looked soft and alluring. Beautiful eyes almost trembled from left to right as his nimble fingers typed quickly across his phone’s screen, before finally offering it to you. You took his phone in your hands and he put away his lunch.

I get to spend time with you so it’s okay (:

Feeling your blood rush to your cheeks, you couldn’t stop the silly smile that took over your lips. If only he knew the way he could make you swoon with just a simple sentence like that.

“I like spending time with you too, Toge” when your eyes went back to him you spotted him trying to cover up his face again, so without actually thinking it through you quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him “wait, don’t-”

He froze, his eyes widened and then searched for yours.

“Tuna?”

“N-nothing, I just like seeing your face… uhm, i mean, when we talk! I mean, like because we’re… uh, communicating… and…” panicking, you tried to come up with a decent excuse, but your face kept getting hotter and your mind couldn’t stop thinking about his curious lavender eyes staring back at you as you made a fool of yourself “I ju- I don’t know I- I just think you’re pretty.”

WHAT?!

Putting your hand away, your eyes darted towards the floor in embarrassment. But then you heard him giggle. When you looked up, he moved closer. The scent of his cologne suddenly and sweetly filling your senses. Toge grabbed the hand you had moved away and laced your fingers together, his closeness and warmth sparking a nervous sensation in your chest, flushing your cheeks once again and forming a knot in you throat. With his free hand he pointed back at you.

“Prettier”

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nyx-is-missing · 4 months

Note

Could u write one for clarisse where she's impressed with femR bc of how good she is at fighting and all and clarisse finds her incredibly attractive bc no one has challenged her the way R does?

And like a bit of pining until the two confess

Thank you!!

Breathtaking or taken

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader

Summary: when Clarisse finds a opponent worth of her, she is breathtaken.

Warnings: none really, just fluff, not a descriptive fight scene on sight cause mama dont know how to write that, so just fluff fluff, and mutual pining fluff

(Do i need to say its not proofread? No? Thank you)

Here is one of the main benefits of being a daughter of Athena, you'll know.

DIfferent from other gods, Athena will let your parent know it is her who they are talking to.

And if letting them know beforehand isnt enough, she will let them know when the baby is brought to them, and if your parent is smart enough to live up to her choice, you'll have time to learn a thing or two before being thrown into this world.

If your parent cares enough about you, you'll have time.

And sure as hell my mom cared.

Always the intelectual woman, historian, researcher, writter, my mom knew many things about ancient greece, she knew all the stories by heart, and she, of all people, knew what she needed to do, to preserve her only daughter, her sacred gift.

She teached me all i needed to learn without compromising myself, stories, languages, art...and fight.

Little girls my age were doing dance classes, were trying to be good enough for drama club, were playing tea party with their dolls or making a mess with their mom's make up.

Well...i.. i was doing martial arts, i was fencing, i had my face in a book every free time i got.

I always asked her about it, why was she so strict about never missing a fight leasson, her answer always made sense, there and now.

"The world is cruel, especially for little girls, someday i might not be all the time with you, someday, you'll fight your own battles, you need to be ready"

Every word, every single word is true.

And that is how i ended up here, in a arena of camp half blood, sparring with Clarisse, and winnig, by two points, yes, but winning.

It is clear nobody expected that from me, neither did she actually, i can see in her eyes.

Understandable, they expect Athena kids to be calm, find a solution, not fight her way out.

Honestly their looks dont bother me, i dont even think much of it, but Clarisse's looks, they got something more to them, like a kid who finally got the dog she really wanted.

"Aaand break time Clarrise, we'll continue this tomorrow, id like to enjoy the rest of my afternoon thank you"

I dropped the sword down and started to undo my armor while walking close to the exit.

"Wait wait wait, now? Already? C'mon i didnt even had time to figure out how do you do that... all of that"

She stood next to me, still holding her sword and honestly.. she was beautiful, yes she was sweaty now and yes she was mean to everyone but.. now...right now, she was beautiful, shining, in her element really, flushed cheeks and a smile she only had when with a sword in hand.

"I practice, ever since i was a kid, everyday, well expect in weekends but yeah, almost everyday... how do you do all that? You are good...-want some water?"

I offered her my bottle also motioning for her to walk with me, both wich she gladly accepted.

"I practice too...and i never said this to anyone but, you are good, great even, and look breathtaking"

We stop walking, we stop all actually.

"I look what, Clarisse?"

"Breathtaken- you look out of breath, do you want the water back?"

Ah.

Weeks later i found myself in the same scenario, sparring with Clarisse again, actually that is all i do when it comes to training, be with Clarisse

"C'mon curls, thats the best you've got? No need to go easy on me"

"Im not going easy, i already told you, you caught me distracted thats all- GIRL WIll YOU SUSH?"

She tried to block you with her sword, thankfully for her, a succeded attempt.

"How could i? You're so fun to mess with, gets all red n all"

"Oh you want to talk about getting red?"

In a moment i was on the floor, Clarisse on top of me, and i couldnt speak, all i could do was stare into her big brown eyes, who looked right into my soul.

"Cant speak anymore huh? Oh if you could see the red im seeing-"

Now this my ladies and gentlemen, this is what i call a shot of faith.

I raised my head a little and just..i kissed her, it was quick but I did it, and her face went blank.

"Now you are breathtaken Curls, how about that?"

"And you are still breathtaking"

Still?

Oh.

"You...like me Clarisse?"

"You didnt knew?"

Oh.

"....no..?"

"Would you walk away if i kissed you this time?"

"....no."

#fanfic #lesbian #clarisse pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue

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blackypanther9 · 7 days

Text

Cute Night time – Alastor x Short!Fem!Reader

A/N: You can take their relationship as a special one or romantic one, I don’t care ! I didn’t make it very romantic, nor did I zone it into any special kind of relationship, so...up to you all ! (Art belongs to rightful owner)

You tried to reach your nightgown, which Alastor put higher up in your shared dresser. You assured him you will reach it, but obviously you lied. A soft, static chuckle made you stop and pout softly.

“It appears, my Dear, that I did, indeed, put your nightgown too high for you.”

“It seems so...”, you replied with s small pout.

“Allow me, Dear.”, Alastor said gently and came to your aid.

He reached for your Nightgown and then gave it to you. You took it with a smile, kissing his hand.

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You are very welcome, Darling.”, he replied gently.

You went to the bathroom next and he followed closely behind you. The two of you always brushed your teeth together. You had to stand on a small chair to be able to see your reflection in the mirror, but it didn’t really bother you much. You chuckled as you put your toothpaste onto your toothbrush. Alastor did the same as you.

“What is so funny, Dear ?”, he asked you.

“Do you remember the time before we started to become close with one another ?”

“Hmm...depends on what you mean.”, he replied.

“You never brushed your teeth, Al ! I was so surprised that your teeth never fell out from your lack of care for them !”, you laughed out.

Alastor had a deep red blush on his face and groaned in embarrassment.

“Don’t remind me, Cher.”

“You never cared if anyone told you that you have a horrid breath, but as we got closer and you noticed that I was never able for long enough to be close to your face, thanks to your bad breath, you started to brush your teeth again.”

His ears were folded back and he looked away, his eyes showing annoyance and his smile was strained.

“I don’t wish to talk about it. It is embarrassing enough as it is.”, Alastor muttered.

“Al, it was cute and adorable of you, to pick your hygiene back up just to do someone a favor !”, you giggled out.

He looked at you with gentleness in his eyes.

“So...you weren’t making fun of me ?”, he asked gently.

“I would never make fun of you, Al. I care about you too much to do that to you. A few jabs of fun, I would do, sure, but I would never want to actually humiliate you.”, you gently told him.

He gave you a warm smile and you nudged his arm softly.

“Now...three minutes teeth brushing in 3....2....1....GO !”

With that the both of you brushed your teeth. Even though you did it both for three minutes, you always made it kind of like a race, just to get the Radio Demon to put some effort into his own work. It worked all the time, surprisingly.

After you were done with brushing your teeth, you fought who can clean their brush and cup first. You cheated and then ran for the bed. Whoever was on the bed first, could pick what to do until the both of them fall asleep. Alastor ran after you, close behind you.

Before he could throw himself onto the bed, with you on his chest, like he usually did, you touched the bed and whooped.

“I won this time, Bambi !”, you cheered then yelped.

Alastor snatched you and fell with his back into the bed and you landed with him in it, on his chest. You giggled while he chuckled. You loved being so childish with Alastor in his room. In private he was so much more fun than in public.

“Alright then, Y/n, Cher. What do you want to do tonight, until we fall asleep ?”, he asked you.

You hummed in thought, letting him wait for a bit.

“I want to see your tail tonight and pet your ears.”

He looked at you with widened eyes.

You barely asked that of him, usually you only asked that when you were stressed, but today...Alastor was very stressed today, had to run around a lot and finish tasks for Charlie, while he had to do his own Overlord business too. You could see how stressed and tense he was. Alastor secretly loved the ear rubs you gave him, it made him melt and relax. His tail is just an addition for his own comfort.

You see, the little thing wagged when he was happy and content, but at the moment it was trapped in his sleeping pants and you knew that it hurt him to hide it all the time. Sometimes it even became sore and he got very irritated about it.

The Radio Demon sighed and nodded.

“Alright, Cher...”, he relented and snapped his fingers.

In a flash his tail was out and his sleeping pants looked different. Not all of his pants had holes for his tail. He winced as he still laid on it, so you got up and laid down in the middle of the bed, head in the pillows. You put one on your stomach and patted it.

“Come here with your head, Demon Bambi.”, you cooed.

“I hope you know, that only you are allowed to refer to me as that.”, he grumbled.

“I know. I feel kind of special. Now come here, Al.”

He obeyed and crawled over to you, then laid down on his stomach, wrapped his arms around your lower back and laid his head down on the pillow you put on your stomach. He hummed and then shook his head.

“This won’t do...”, he grumbled and pulled away the pillow, then laid his head down on your stomach, without it.

He hummed in content.

“Much better.”, he muttered gently, snuggling deeper into you.

You chuckled with a soft smile, then you ran your right hand through his hair, making its way to his left ear. As it reached his left ear, you started to give the base of his ear gently rubs. Alastor sighed in comfort and melted into your touch. Slowly your left hand ran through his hair next, making its way to his right ear, giving it the same treatment as his left ear.

There was no static, which meant that Alastor decided to put away his radio filters in his voice. You could hear fabric moving and as you craned your neck up a bit, you could see that his deer tail was wagging happily. It made you smile and you put your head back into the pillows.

Yes you were short, way shorter than Alastor, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t make him loosen up.

“Thank ya, Cher.”, Alastor sleepily got out with his natural voice.

You smiled and hummed gently, continuing to pet and rub his ears softly.

“Always, Al. Now take a rest, Dear. You burned a lot of energy today and I need you well rested tomorrow.”

Alastor hummed softly, his tail still wagging.

“Alright, Darling...”

You scratched the back of his ears’ base and he let out a soft fawn like bleat, tail wagging a bit faster. He snuggled deeper into you, while his eyes got more and more heavy.

You hummed gently a song that usually got him to fall asleep, knowing he usually had hard troubles to sleep. Within minutes his body was heavier, fully relaxed and his breathing was slower, gentler.

You gave out a soft chuckle and kissed the top of his left ear gently.

“You really tuckered yourself out today, Bambi.”, you, oh so softly, whispered, as to not wake him up again.

You continued to rub his ears for a while, until you also started to succumb to sleep.

#fanfiction #demon!reader #fem!reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #Cute Night time – Alastor x Short!Fem!Reader

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emsgoodthinkin · 6 months

Text

18+

“Oh.. hell yea baby bounce on it”

You and Steve have been together for 5 months now. Met in college, specifically art class, he was forced to take an elective, anything for him to graduate. That’s when he saw you in the middle of the room.. naked. Well kinda, there was a long white sheet wrapped around you. Figure drawing was that days subject.

You seemed happy? Not at all flustered having all eyes on you, Steve was a bit intimidated, not only because of how beautiful you looked and all, but everything about you made the whole room glow. And made the bulge in his pants grow.

After class he was the last one out, he wanted to talk to you, little were you aware he was stuck behind in the room; that’s when you dropped the sheet to put your clothes back on. You both screamed in sync and he scrambled out of the door faster than you could’ve blinked.

Later that afternoon, you seen him in the library and came up to him to talk about the book he was reading. He was surprised you didn’t mention the incident, and since then you two hit it off.

He knew you were a virgin, so heavy make out sessions, mutual masturbation and lots of oral was the base of your guys relationship.

You woke up, extremely needy and horny. No vibrator or dildo could sedate your craving other than Steve. He wanted to take his time with you, telling you that you’ll know when the time is right. He made a mistake years ago losing his to quickly so in his terms, he’s doing you a favor. In your terms, he’s torturing you.

You swear he gets off on it.

You’ve been rubbing your pussy up against your hand every five seconds at work, coaxing him through sexy texts and lewd photos. Trying to give him the heads up you’re ready for him to finally fuck you. Or “make love” as he’d exclaim. same shit

He’s usually arrived home by the time you get off of work and today, you were definitely worked; panties have been sticking to your cunt since 10 this morning

“I need you now!” you shout kicking your shoes off and tossing your bag elsewhere, meanwhile, he’s wide-eyed, staring at you with a mouth full of cereal

“Pardon?”

“Steve baby please I love you so much but I need your cock in me right now, I’ve been so horny all day, I mean I can literally smell myself through my own pants right now,” you admit ridding him of the bowl, climbing into his lap, immediately grinding your hips

He scoffs.

“Baby we’ve been through this.. damn, really can smell it huh?” he replies cursing himself, biting his lip, “I thought we were going to wait? you know I want it to be special for you”—

“and it will be, please I promise I’m ready” you pout

The heavy feeling of you has him already babbling.

—“just like that baby, bounce it a little bit — y-yeah that’s it there we go,” he strains bucking, his hips up into yours, cock fully solid

“yeah? like that daddy?”—

“Don’t! Stop that.. fuck, don’t call me that, you know what that does to me”

“what does it do hm?” you lean down to nip his ear, “does it make you wanna fuck my brains out?”

He growls, moving your hips faster “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you doing this to me, fuck! keep bouncin, keep boucin that hot pussy on my dick sweetheart oh— shit”—

“Come on Stevie you know you want it, you’ve been dying to feel my pussy squeeze it, anytime with you will be s-speacial, just.. PLEASE!” you, almost in tears, begging; your thighs are burning the faster and harder you grind

“Ahhh, fuck it, get up!”, he demands angrily and eagerly ripping your pants and soaked panties off—

“Open those fuckin legs, ill make ya feel real special tonight”

reblogs appreciated

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x virgin reader #steve harrignton #steve harrington smut #perv!steve harrington x perv!reader #joe keery #stranger things #daddy steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #perv!steve harrington x virgin reader #afab reader #dom!steve harrington #soft!dom steve #steve harrington one shot

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blindmagdalena · 6 months

Text

The Cuckoo's Nest

18+ 6.3k siren!homelander x f!reader. dub/noncon, infidelity, mind/emotional manipulation, gaslighting, voice kink, masturbation, penetrative sex, fingering, blood, gore, cannibalism? creampie, stalking, minor character death, praise kink, good girl/pretty girl.

The gentle and pleasing voice of the cuckoo bird has made it a renowned herald of spring, and perhaps one of the most famous of songbirds. One would never guess merely by looking at it that it is a predatory parasite.

What you thought would be a dream job working for Vought as Homelander's very own secretary turns into a surreal waking nightmare as reality and dreams converge in a confusing mess. The only coherent thread that strings it all together is the alluring pull of Homelander's unnatural voice.

written for Monsterlander Mania. fair warning, this fic is fairly dark! thank you so much @anon-nee for this amazing banner art. 🖤

When you were hired as Homelander’s secretary, the gig had been pitched as a cushy desk job. Now that he’s the new face of Vought, and Ashley the company CEO, he needs someone who will keep his day to day affairs in order. Apparently, you’re just the person for that job.

“You probably won’t see much of him,” Ashley tells you distractedly. She rarely ever looks away from her phone for long.

“There are two landlines on your desk. The left one is for general business, and the one on the right, the red one, is exclusively for him. Don’t make calls on it. He has the number memorized, he’s the only one who’ll ever call it, so make sure you always answer it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say diligently.

Glancing over, Ashley does a double take. “Aren’t you married? Where’s your ring?”

You falter, looking down at your hands. “Oh,” you say, taking said ring out of your pocket. “I put hand cream on earlier, I just forgot to put it back on.”

“Make sure you keep that on,” she says, giving you a critical look before returning her gaze to her phone. “He’s particular.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Nevertheless, you make sure to always keep your wedding ring on while you’re at work.

True to Ashley’s word, you see neither hide nor hair of Homelander during your first three days. You make his appointments, you take calls on his behalf, and you organize his bookings.

In your office, directly across from your desk, hangs a borderline comically oversized portrait of him that stares relentlessly at you as you work. You often find yourself staring back at it, the back of your neck prickling with the irrational feeling of being watched.

You know that it’s just in your head, but you can’t help but be put off by the feeling. Sometimes you consider covering the portrait, but the last thing you want is for the man to appear out of the blue and see a blanket thrown over his likeness.

Your instinct proves correct.

“Hey you,” comes a voice like silk. You startle, looking up from your desk to find a shock of red, white and blue standing in your doorway, his arms folded casually behind his back.

“Homelander,” you say, nearly choking on the name. “Sir, hello. I’m��”

“I know,” he interjects smoothly, cape swaying behind him as he passes the threshold, making his way over to your desk. That voice. He’s not even said five words to you yet, but it lingers in your ears like warm honey, causing a flush of warmth to roll through you. You convince yourself that you’re just embarrassed to have been caught so thoroughly off guard. “My new secretary. Sorry I couldn’t stop by sooner.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize, sir. I know better than most how–” you hesitate, watching as he takes a turn and begins walking directly towards you, circling behind your desk. “–busy you are,” you finish, looking up at him as he looms over you. You wonder if you should stand, but he’s so close to you now, you’d just knock right into him.

He smells good. Earthy and slightly sweet, like vetiver.

“That’s pretty,” he remarks, gesturing to your ring finger. “Sapphire, huh? Unusual choice.”

You swallow, trying desperately to reign in the cadence of your breath. Your heart is pattering as wildly as rain drops. “Thank you. My husband chose it, it’s his birthstone.”

To which Homelander giggles. It’s a delighted, slightly off-putting little noise. “P’wow, he gave you a ring with his birthstone, huh? Really staking his claim,” he says, reaching down to take your hand. He looks at you just before he makes contact. His eyes are even bluer than the stone in your ring. “May I?”

Dumbstruck, you nod, lifting your hand and placing it in his upturned palm. He sits on your desk and turns your hand this way and that, watching the way your ring catches the light. Eventually, his gaze slips back to yours. “Happily married?”

“Very,” you say immediately, your throat suddenly dry.

He smiles, and only then do you notice how unusually sharp his canines are.

“Good. Glad to hear it,” he says, giving your hand a gentle pat before he lets it go. You immediately drop your hand into your lap, touching your ring. You feel strangely lightheaded all of a sudden, unable to look away from his piercing gaze. Even when he isn’t speaking, you can still hear the warmth of his tone echoing all around you.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” he says, standing from your desk with preternatural elegance, as if he’d floated more than lifted himself.

“Please, the pleasure was all mine,” you say with a smile, somewhat dazed. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

He looks pleased as punch at that. “I’ll try not to be such a stranger, hmm?” he purrs, reaching out to give your shoulder a friendly squeeze. You feel the rumble of his voice roll all the way down your spine and into the core of you, leaving a light throb nestled between your thighs.

“I’d like that. Thank you, sir,” you say, your voice sounding dreamy and distant in your own ears.

Flashing that same toothy grin, he shoots you a wink before he turns face with a slight flourish of his cape, the fabric billowing in his wake as he takes his leave, disappearing down the hall.

The second he’s gone, it’s like the spell of his presence breaks and you come crashing back to yourself, eyes wide. A hot broil of shame rolls through you when you realize how aroused you are, that throb lingering. You’re equal parts shocked and disgusted with yourself, sickened by the hot prickle lingering on every inch of your skin.

Holy shit. What the fuck was that?

You wind up leaving an hour early, eager to be home. The shame makes you desperate to see your husband, as if touching him will erase the residual traces of the effect that Homelander had on your body.

It doesn’t. In fact, that feeling of being watched follows you all the way home, the feel of it becoming a specter haunting your house. When your husband seeks intimacy from you in your bed later that night, you push his hands away.

“Sorry,” you say softly, shaken. “Not tonight.”

Your body still remembers him too viscerally.

That night, you dream of songbirds.

Two days later, the right landline rings for the first time. You stare blankly at it, your stomach immediately twisting into knots. It rings, once, twice, nearly a third time before you hurriedly snatch it up off the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” comes Homelander’s familiar drawl. His voice falls over you like a wash of sunlight, warm and heavy. “Thought you might be ignoring me for a second there.”

“No, no, never. Sorry, sir,” you say, reaching for your water. You take a quick sip. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing too dire, just a little shuffling. Can you bump tomorrow’s 4pm to Thursday for me?” He asks, voice slipping around your throat like a noose. The press of it makes you slightly breathless.

“Of course,” you say, balancing the phone on your shoulder while you manipulate your tablet. “That’s no problem at all, done.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, the phone turning his voice into an intimate rumble in your ear.

You blink, feeling like your mouth is full of cotton. You can’t seem to form a response.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asks, and you swear up and down you can hear a smile in his voice. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Was there anything else, sir?” You manage to blurt out, words leaving you in a clumsy spill. You’re breathing shallowly, mouth parched. You snatch up your water and take another quick sip. There’s a long pause on the line, the silence so deafening you think for a moment you must have missed something. “Sir?”

“Touch yourself.”

Your heart falls into your stomach, but that feeling is nothing compared to the unbidden liquid heat that those words erupt throughout your body.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says patiently. Amused, even. “Touch yourself. Take your hand–no, no, the left one,” he says in response to your right hand drifting down. You weren’t even aware you’d started moving. You swap the phone from your left hand to your right, and grab hold of your thigh with your left hand.

“I don’t understand,” you say, the words feeling as thick as molasses on your tongue. “Why are you–”

“That’s good. Now, move those pretty fingers in. Just like that,” he directs, and to your own distant horror, your hand moves, sliding between your legs and lifting up your skirt, your sparkling ring disappearing beneath it. You press your middle finger directly to your beating clit and let go a shuddering breath, massaging it through your panties.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how you like it, mm? Bet your husband still doesn’t know the first fuckin’ thing about how to make you feel good. He ever watch you do this to yourself, ever bother to learn how you like to be touched?”

Disoriented, you shake your head. Your hips reflexively lift to meet the smooth figure-eights you rub yourself with. You’re sure you’d agree to anything he said so long as he keeps talking.

“Didn’t think so. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need.”

The heat of his voice envelops you, makes your whole body feel aflame. You’ve never been so sensitive in your life, already shuddering and squirming in your seat from the intensity of sensation building beneath your fingers.

“Slow down. There’s no rush. You’re as good as mine now.”

His voice is like velvet but his words sting, needling something inside you that squirms. You screw your eyes shut and shake your head more fervently. “No, no, m’not… I don’t…”

“Shhhhh,” he hushes, the hiss of it like a serpent in your ear. “Give it up for me, sweetheart.”

A whimper escapes your throat, the noise all but choked out of you. You can’t move, save for the increasingly frantic stroke of your fingers. His voice is a physical caress that slips down the line of your throat, between your breasts, slinking in serpentine patterns until it spills over your fingers and–

You gasp awake, staring wide-eyed at your blurry ceiling as wave after wave of pure euphoria crashes over you, stealing your capacity for breath. You ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm in a state of delirium, the shadows on your ceiling dancing like a voyeuristic crowd. You’re not sure if it takes seconds, minutes or hours to end, your perception of time distorted by the sheer intensity of sensation.

Looking to your side, panting, you see your husband sleeping soundly beside you. His snores are faint and peaceful. The curtains of your balcony door billow softly with the night’s breeze.

Your day comes back to you in a slow blur. The phone call was real, you’re sure of it… Aren’t you? Reaching for your phone, you hurriedly log into your Vought calendar and check the schedule. Sure enough, in your history, you can see that you bumped his next day R&D meeting to Thursday. That was real.

You wrack your brain for the details of your day, trying to piece together how you got from there to here, and whether or not any of Homelander’s voice cooing lewd commands in your ear was real.

It couldn’t have been.

The more the dream fades from your mind, the more you remember the rest of your day. You remember hanging up the phone, finishing your work day as per usual, and going home to your husband. Though it’s all something of a strange blur, the memories are there.

Even so, the dream somehow feels more real than any of it.

It’s 5am and you doubt you’ll be sleeping again. You get up early, shower, and make breakfast all before your husband even makes it to the kitchen. Your dreams and the haze of yesterday fade with the rising sun, as all dreams and memories often do.

You’re in the process of putting your dishes away when he walks in, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You got an early start today?” He asks, biting back a yawn.

It’s cute. He’s cute. You feel an irrational spike of guilt.

It was just a dream.

“Didn’t sleep well,” you admit, kissing him on the cheek. You wrinkle your nose. “Oof, morning breath,” you say playfully, but there’s an edge of truth to it. You can’t explain it, but there’s something off about the way your husband smells this morning.

Your mind drifts wistfully to the pleasant memory of sweet vetiver.

By the time you make it to work, your morning is nothing but a distant recollection at the peripheral of your consciousness.

Nonetheless, the sight of that bright red landline still makes you blush.

You don’t see Homelander again for another three days. At least, not at work. In reality, you’re more aware of him than you’ve ever been in your life. His face is everywhere, be it TV or billboards. You see him in the grocery store, the post office, and even the goddamn DMV. You never really noticed until now how inescapable Homelander truly is.

It’s no wonder he continues to appear in your dreams, too. You can’t seem to remember any of them very well, but you know without a doubt each time you wake that you were haunted by sapphire blue eyes and a voice as decadent as sin.

Sometimes you recall a gorgeous view of the city hundreds of feet in the air. Other times you recall a blue bed, but the thing you remember most is mirrors. You see yourself clearly in them. You see him with you.

All the while a budding friction between you and your husband continues to grow. You find yourself telling him more often to brush his teeth, shower, anything to combat this bizarre stink he’s taken on. Some days it’s so bad, you swear you smell rotting meat before you realize it’s him. Even the sound of his voice grates on you, both rough and shrill in a way that agitates you further and further into isolation in the house you once happily shared.

On that third day at work, you’re penciling in a meeting regarding a potential collaboration with Superplastic when a rhythmic knock at the door jostles you from focus. You look up to call them in, but Homelander is already striding inside, stealing the words right off the tip of your tongue.

“Goooood afternoon,” he drawls, the door falling shut behind him. For as much as you’ve continued to see and hear of him, you had forgotten how different he sounds in person, the force of his presence instantly a weight upon your body.

Your brain completely malfunctions. Night after night of erotic whispers suddenly crashes down upon you in visceral detail, how multiple times you woke to the throes of an orgasm with his voice still echoing in your ears. Humiliation and arousal flood you in equal measure, turning your skin hot.

Homelander smiles at you from the other side of your desk all the while.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks slyly. The question hurdles you backwards in time to the moment you were seated in this exact spot with him whispering downright pornographic filth into your ear, coaxing you into touching yourself into a frenzy.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was a dream.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you finally manage to say, wincing internally at the sound of your own voice.

“Don’t be so formal,” he says, giving a dismissive little wave. “C’mon, call me Homelander,” he says, once again circling around behind your desk. Your eyes widen slightly, mouth bone dry when you try to swallow. He sweeps his cape out of the way before taking a leisurely seat on your desk. He lifts his brows, pinning you with an expectant stare. “Go on, try again.”

“Uh, good afternoon, Homelander,” you correct yourself. His proximity to you is making it hard to focus–there it is again, the scent of vetiver. He smells like summer grass warmed by the hot sun, and he has a gravitational pull to him that has you leaning subconsciously towards him.

His smile widens. “Much better.” His eyes narrow a touch, flickering down briefly before snapping back up to meet your gaze.

“So! How’s the office, everything nice and cozy?” He asks, one hand braced next to him on your desk, the other gesturing vaguely about. Before you can even answer, he points to your lap.

“Chair good? I know how important lumbar support is when you’re sitting all day.”

Discussing your lumbar support needs with Homelander certainly had not been on your bingo sheet.

“Uhm, yes, it’s–” Again, before you can get a real answer in, he’s sitting up and making sweeping motions with his hand.

“Let’s see, up, up, lemme take this bad boy for a spin,” he says, making your heart leap up into your throat when he catches you by your waist and effortlessly lifts you up out of your office chair, turning to set you on your feet. With a flourish of his cape, he drops down into your chair, legs spread wide.

You gawk momentarily, watching him spin side to side.

“Oop, there’s that lumbar,” he says, leaning back into it. He’s grinning at you all the while, the moment entirely surreal. You huff an incredulous little laugh, crossing your arms. He’s a little ridiculous, you realize, but personable.

Have you been the problem this whole time, turning him into something he’s not? You’re starting to lose yourself in your thoughts as you watch him.

“How about we test the suspension? C’mere,” he says, giving his thigh a pat. “Sit.”

You snap back to attention, your smile falling away. “Pardon?”

“Sit,” he says again, his smile a predatory curve of his lips. He pats his thigh again “Right here.”

You look down at his lap and then back up, your ears buzzing with the timbre of his voice. Logically, you know that what he’s just demanded is wildly inappropriate, yet the silken tone he said it in leaves you utterly agreeable. Slowly, you lower yourself into his lap, uncertain of why you wouldn’t abide by such a request.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he coos, bracketing your waist with his arms.

”That’s better, isn’t it?” He asks, his hands moving up and down your thighs. You shiver, a chill running down your spine despite the fervid heat of his body pressed along the back of yours.

A distant voice in the back of your mind whispers it wasn’t a dream, though you can barely hear it over the pounding of your own blood in your ears.

“Relax,” he murmurs, the word a warm huff on your neck.

Like a marionette whose strings have been cut, your body goes slack against him. Your heart continues to race even as a wave of calm sweeps through you, the two sensations frantically battling one another. Eventually, however, your pulse succumbs to the warmth seeping from him, and you begin to calm, soothed by the slow sweeps of his palms and the way he’s muttering sweet nothings into your ear.

“Good girl,” he breathes, the smile audible in his voice. “That’s it. Feels good, hmm?” His hands move more firmly on your thighs, closer to a massage.

You make a thin noise of pleasure, tipping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“When I tell you… that I have been looking forward to this,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck.

“But I had to be sure you were the one. Most people start to go insane after the first night, maybe the second, but not you.” His teeth, sharp as razors, delicately graze your throat. “You’ve been… perfect.”

“What’re you talking about?” You ask, feeling slightly slow and disoriented.

Homelander chuckles, the rumble of it moving from his chest through your back.

“My voice. It tears apart people's minds… But not yours. Why is that?” His lips are warm on your skin, trailing lower. He lifts a hand to pull your collar askew and kiss at the exposed crook of your neck.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes flickering shut. His mouth feels incredible, the slight dampness that his lips leave behind making you especially sensitive to the air as he exposes you to it. It’s difficult to focus on anything other than the drag of his mouth.

You don’t even realize he’s unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off of your shoulders until he’s kissing that newly revealed skin, nipping playfully at your bra strap.

“Here I was thinking you were just a pretty, tasty little thing… Turns out you’re so much more,” he purrs between kisses. A jolt of pain makes you gasp and then whimper, the sting of it soothed by the way his tongue drags over the spot afterwards.

It takes you a beat to comprehend that he’s just bitten the junction between your neck and shoulder, sunk his sharp teeth in so deep you smell the faint tang of blood.

“Turns out you were meant for me all along,” he says between slow drags of his tongue, lapping at your soft skin. He moans for the taste of it. “Watching you writhe in your bed, wanting me, touching yourself while your useless husband slept. I thought I was the one going fucking insane.”

Comprehension is a slow, creeping thing to your addled mind. “You were watching me. The dreams, you–”

“Whispered them into your ear while you slept,” he interjects, kissing at the shell of your ear. “You took to ‘em like gasoline takes to a spark,” he says, that voice of his wrapping around your body and limbs like a dozen slithery tendrils.

The touch of his voice is just as tangible as his hands sliding up your thighs, your stomach, cupping your breasts through your bra. You let out a shuddering moan.

“Every night, I was so sure you’d break. But you didn’t. You won’t.”

His confession brings back images in a flood, untangling dreams from memories. You remember a silhouette standing over you, you remember piercing red eyes glowing in the dark, and you remember the filth he spoke over you that made your body twist and sweat and come harder than you ever have.

All of it intertwines with this very moment, with his hands on you, his body against yours. It has you moaning, writhing back against him the same way you did in your bed beneath his gaze.

“Call your husband,” he tells you, hand slipping between your legs, hooking under your skirt.

“What?” You rasp, clutching at his wrists. You shiver at the hot slide of his tongue just behind your ear.

“Call your husband,” he repeats, thick gloved finger rubbing sparks between your thighs. “Tell him you’re coming home early. Tell him to wait for you in the bedroom.”

Leaning forward, Homelander snatches the left landline off the desk and pulls it into your lap, resting it atop his hand while he fingers you in slow, precise circles.

You pick up the receiver and dial unsteadily. It doesn’t sound like something you shouldn’t do. Even as it rings, you feel no dread or apprehension. Just the drive to obey the voice cradling your mind and body so very sweetly.

“Hi,” you exhale when he answers the phone, screwing your eyes shut. It takes everything in you just to focus on speaking.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m coming–” your breath catches as Homelander pushes your panties aside and breaches you with a single finger, sliding into your soaked pussy in one slow, continuous slide.

“I’m coming home early today,” you say, holding both the receiver and Homelander’s wrist in a white-knuckle grip. “Can you wait in the bedroom for me?”

He’s thoroughly confused, but all that does is frustrate you. His voice comes through ugly and nasally over the phone, grating through your nerves instantly. You feel the urge to yell at him, but the breath is stolen from your lungs by the sweet press of Homelander’s thick gloved finger crooking inside you, stroking exactly the right spot to make you see stars.

“Just–just do it, please? Wait in the bedroom, I’ll be–I’ll be home soon.”

You slam down the phone just in time, letting out a cry, lurching forward. The phone tumbles from your lap with a clatter and Homelander catches you with an arm across your chest, pinning you back against his chest.

“Good girl, that’s it. Give it up for me. Lemme feel that pretty pussy come,” he moans, grinding up against you, the sound of his finger pumping into you obscenely loud and wet.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Whet my appetite. Gimme something before it’s time to fucking eat.”

You come loudly, clenching your legs tightly around his hand. He stops just to feel you tighten and convulse through his glove, his lips and teeth and tongue all wreaking havoc at your throat.

“Fuck,” he sighs, followed by the low rumble of a chuckle. Your thighs shake as he pulls his hand away. You can smell the heady smell of your own slick when he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks the taste of you from it, the sound lewd in your ear.

“You even taste pretty,” he hums, voice frayed like a growl. There’s an inhuman split to his voice, like there’s three of them layered over top of each other.

The whole world feels like it’s spinning. You have no center of gravity, just the sensation of movement as Homelander effortlessly maneuvers you up into his arms. Your head lolls against his chest, vision swimming.

Warm lips press sweetly to your forehead. “Rest up, pretty girl,” he murmurs. The words instantly make you drowsy. “I’ll wake you up when I’m done.”

The world slips into darkness. The last thing you’re aware of is the feeling of flying.

When you come back to consciousness, the darkness remains. You recognize your bedroom ceiling above you, familiar shadows dancing across it, beckoning you awake.

A dream…?

Your limbs are leaden, weighed down to the bed. You try desperately to untangle the fantastical from what is real, walking backwards through what you remember. Touch, smell, sound, and pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever known. You remember Homelander’s hands on you, in you, his body and voice all around you, the sound of–

Sound. What is that sound? It’s close to you, but you can’t move your head to see. It’s a series of wet, soft squelching noises akin to someone manipulating piles of drenched laundry. Then you hear a crunch like a tree branch snapping, and you start to recognize another sound; panting breaths followed by an erotic moan of pure indulgence.

You open your mouth to speak, but your throat is too tight, and nothing escapes it. As you come back to yourself more and more, you realize the bed beneath you is warm and wet.

You manage to force a noise from the back of your throat, a strained sound born of the effort to move. Next to you, something shifts.

“There’s my pretty girl,” coos Homelander’s familiar voice. Your heart crashes against your ribcage, the only part of you that can freely move expressing the shock of hearing his voice here in your bed.

“Shhhshhhh, no need for that,” he murmurs, moving into your line of sight, hovering over you. His face is spattered in something dark, but when he smiles his sharp teeth are white and bright, even in the dim moonlight of your bedroom. His voice soothes your frayed nerves almost instantly.

“Take a deep breath,” he says. You do so easily, as if you were never paralyzed. “Good. Perfect timing,” he tells you, his tongue sliding along his teeth, his lips, threads of saliva stretched between his teeth snapping. “I’m still plenty hungry for you.”

He kisses you, swinging his leg over to envelop your body with his. All at once you can move again, your bones no longer weighed down. You relax beneath the press of his lips and the weight of him, exhaling a breath through your nose.

“Kiss me,” he mumbles fervently. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him with everything you have, your lips sliding slickly against one another. He licks the taste of copper into your mouth.

Blood, a distant part of you realizes. Whatever horror you should feel is replaced by building excitement, his touch reigniting heat throughout your body. Like gasoline takes to a spark.

His lips move to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, trailing bloodied kisses down your throat. He has less patience for your clothes now than he did in your office, tearing your shirt and bra from your body with a feral noise. His hands are upon you instantly, spreading the blood on his hands down your chest, massaging your breasts until he works a needy moan out of you.

“Can’t believe I almost ate you, too,” he says with a smile. Before you can respond, he leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth, hands sliding lower. You gasp and push your hands into his hair, slicking it back with what sprayed into it. His mouth is inferno hot on your skin, goosebumps erupting over every inch of you. His tongue is a devilish thing, working your nipple in circles, but it’s the light pinch of his teeth that make your whole body lurch.

He makes quick work of your clothing from the waist down, too, stripping you until there’s nothing left between you and the blood soaked fabric of his suit. His hand disappears from you, and you hear a metallic click followed by the hiss of a zipper. He nudges your legs apart to settle properly between them, pulling off of your breast with a satisfied pop. He licks his lips of the blood he had spread to your breast, eyes wild and glowing faintly red.

“Let’s get rid of this while we’re at it,” he says, lifting your hand. He kisses the tip of your ring finger before taking it into his mouth, gaze flickering up to meet yours as he takes it all the way down past your knuckle, your ring disappearing past his lips. He catches the metal band with his teeth and drags it slowly off, sucking your finger clean of it. A chill runs down your spine at the crunch the metal gives as he effortlessly chews and swallows it.

You stare in numb, abject shock, but even that rapidly fades to the fires rolling through you.

Hands on your thighs, he easily pulls your ass into his lap. You look down to see his cock freed from his suit pants, thick and nicely curved. He bends over you, hitching your legs up over his shoulder, and you feel the flat curve of the bottom of his cock press against your cunt. He grins down at you, rocking his hips to grind through the slick mess he’s made of you.

“Let’s see if you feel as good as you taste,” he says, claiming your lips once more. He pulls his hips back, and you feel the head of his cock drooling precome as it slides over your clit, down to your soaked cunt. The dull stretch of it splitting you open burns, has you keening against his lips. He kisses you again and again and again.

“That’s it, baby. Open up for me. Lemme feel that perfect pussy,” he grits out, voice frayed at the edges like he’s finally beginning to lose that cocky composure of his. Even still, his voice retains that otherworldly aspect to it. He bottoms out with a low moan, hips flush to your body.

“Oh fffffuck,” he groans, cock throbbing against the velvety walls of your cunt. You can feel the pulse of him, even more so when you squeeze. It gives you an unexpected and intoxicating shot of power when doing that makes him gasp. “Perfect. My perfect fuckin’ match, fuck. I knew you would be, I knew you were made for me,” he babbles, bordering on incoherence as he starts to thrust, gripping your ass with one hand while the other goes to the headboard, slamming it against the wall with each snap of his hips.

“H-Homelander,” you moan, tangling both hands in his hair, dragging your nails harshly down his scalp, the back of his neck, throwing your head back against your pillow.

He gives your ass a sharp slap just to feel the way your cunt clenches with it, a growl rolling from his throat.

“Come with me,” he demands, instantly sending the pressure building in you into a soar. He moves faster, deeper, each slam punching out pitchy noises from you. Every drag of his cock feels like a spark inside you, like the strike of a match igniting stars in your peripheral vision. You come with a near scream, nails biting fruitlessly into Homelander’s skin.

He rides your orgasm fiercely, fucking you into the bloody mess of your bed until he, too, succumbs to the clench of your cunt. He lets out a guttural cry, the wood of your headboard snapping in his grasp as his release floods you, so hot that it nearly burns.

You’re both panting into each other's mouths, lips occasionally brushing. There’s a possessive growl to the edge of Homelander’s breaths, as if warning anything that might hear of the danger of approaching.

“You’re mine now, you understand?” He says lowly, his velveteen voice hoarse, almost animalistic. “My match, my mate, mine.”

Deliriously, you nod, mind still lost to the aftershocks of your climax, your pussy quivering around the girth of his cock. It’s not enough for Homelander, who gives another sharp thrust, knocking an overstimulated moan out of you. “Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you gasp, meeting his gaze. His harsh expression softens at that, the crimson glow fading from his eyes, leaving only that familiar ocean blue in its wake. He kisses you leisurely, but with no less hunger. He lets your legs slip carefully from his shoulders, but remains buried deep inside you, staking his claim as thoroughly as possible. He kisses your neck, makes you wince when he sucks at the mark he bit into your skin.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been looking for you,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You stroke your fingers through his hair, soaking in the feeling of his superhuman body thrumming against yours. You tighten your grip in his hair and lift his head, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. He looks curiously at you until that curiosity flips to surprise as you kiss him, earning a pleased little hum from him.

When you part, his surprise has melted away into something dazed and soft. Something like love, or maybe satiation. The two look so very similar.

Homelander kisses you a while longer before he nestles down against you.

Your head lolls to the side for the first time, and only then do you see the full scope of the horror resting next to you; bones jut out from the mess of viscera and meat, shredded clothing thick with blood and innards. It looks like the work of a rabid animal, something vicious and hungry.

You know instantly that the mess is all that remains of your former husband.

It occurs to you that you should feel a dozen different awful things about the pile of gore splayed out on your bed, but ultimately, the only thought that lingers is how he finally suits that rotten meat smell.

Looking back to the ceiling, you continue to comb your fingers through Homelander’s hair. His weight is a comfortable thing upon you, and beneath the smell of gore, you’re soothed by the gentle, warm scent of vetiver. Your eyelids grow heavy, and within minutes, you drift to sleep.

When you wake, there is no tang of blood heavy in the air. You sit up in a bed that is both alien and familiar. It isn’t until you see the mirrors around you that you realize that this is the bed from your dreams.

You feel warm, despite the early morning chill beyond the blankets. You feel a tug, and as you look down, Homelander pulls you back down into his arms.

“Mornin’, pretty girl.”

“Morning,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. He hums pleasantly as you touch him, your hands roaming the naked scape of his body, testing that he’s real. You draw back, brows furrowed.

“Everything alright?” He asks, his voice as rich and creamy as ever.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, a touch uncertain. “Weird dreams.”

He smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss. “Well, you’re awake now.”

Somehow, you’re not so certain.

Regardless, you huff a little laugh and snuggle back into his arms.

“Love you,” you say, losing yourself to the familiar comfort of a partner in your arms, in your bed, in your heart. The longer you’re there, the more the dreams fade away, replaced with the reality of your waking world and the sweet smell of vetiver.

Homelander squeezes you to his chest, stroking idly up and down your back with his knuckles. You can hear the smile in his voice as he returns, “I love you, too.”

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #terato #monster x human #monster romance #monsterlander mania #my writing #Y'ALL THIS KNOCKED ME ON MY ASS LOL #dark fic

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