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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

#sorry this is a little shorter but uhhhhh i never know where to go after smut #anyway hope yall like it #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #thoughts™️#dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au #wolf john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years

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Sleepless in New York: Mike Dodds x Reader

Your phone was buzzing, you could hear it vibrating through the wooden nightstand as it yanked you from the deepest sleep you'd had in months. You reached for your phone and suddenly found that you couldn't physically move. For a second you panicked, sleep making you groggy and disorientated. You opened your eyes and for a second you found you couldn't breathe.

Mike's face was inches from yours, he looked peaceful. A boyish innocence shone through, as his hair flopped over his face. You heart began to beat harder in your chest, you could feel it thud in your ribcage as you stared at his sleeping face.

God, I am weak.

There was a part of you that savoured this, that enjoyed the sense if security that came from this man. The other ninety five percent wanted to run screaming. That was self-preservation at it it's best.

Somehow, you managed to turn over, de-tangling yourself from his arms was not as easy. His lips grazed the back of your neck, as you squirmed lightly, finally managing to shift his body, so that he ended up lying flat on his back, sprawled out across the bed.

Thank God Mike was a heavy sleeper.

You found yourself standing over the bed watching the rise and fall of his chest, smirking at the light snore erupting from him. Typical Mike you thought, reaching out to brush the hair from his forehead. You stopped dead before your fingers touched his skin.

What the hell were you doing?

You curled your hand into a fist.

This was not good. You withdrew from the room quickly, finding your clothes where Mike had placed them to dry yesterday on his radiators. You remembered his smile as he spread them out across the surface. Warmth flooded all of your senses, as you cast a glance back at the bedroom door longing to take that step forward and climb back into bed again.

You shook it off. There was not a chance in hell you were letting this happen. You refused to develop feelings for Mike Dodds, because a long time ago you had fallen for him. Then he'd taken your heart and broken it into a thousand pieces. He'd made you what you were today.

Damaged, broken, incapable of commitment.

You disposed of Mike's NYPD t-shirt and tugged on your own clothes, still slightly damp from the rain the night before.

You snatched up your purse before bursting out of the apartment door as if the hounds of hell were on your trail.

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

It was early, the bright light was shining in your eyes through the slats in the blinds as you perched at your desk, reports clasped firmly in your hands. Despite your cool, calm exterior you were freaking out.

You didn't do this. You didn't stay over at guy's places. You weren’t the sort of girl, that guys took home to mom. You were the casual one, the one that always got laid and walked away because it was easier to do that.

Yet somehow this morning you’d woken up wrapped in Mike's arms. His face buried in your hair and his body curled around yours. His scent came back to you, a masculine scent, twinged with soap and fading aftershave. It was hard to walk away from that.

"You left early this morning." Mike commented his voice still husky from sleep.

You turned to face him as he stood before you. There were dark circles underneath his eyes. He didn't look like he'd slept much at all. You said nothing, instead your gaze fixated on the paperwork in front of you.

"So, your back to being the Ice Queen again?" Your head snapped up, the anger in your eyes blazing as you starred him.

"Don't call me that." you snarled.

"You did exactly the same thing now as you did last time, you are shutting me out."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm trying to work."

"Your shift doesn't start for..." Mike checked his watch. "Another three hours. So, let's just cut the bullshit and get down to the point."

Mike crossed his arms over his chest as you looked away.

"You're freaking out." he stated.

"I am not freaking out." You exclaimed quickly.

"You seem to be forgetting the fact I know you. I have dated you before, I know the way you think." he paused, his expression softening. "You asked me for comfort last night, and I gave it to you."

You said nothing.

"How can you be so cold about this? Last night you were practically begging me to take you home and now you're trying to pretend it didn't happen. You're acting just like you did then." Mike snapped.

"You broke my heart remember..." you said jabbing your finger at his chest. "You decided you didn't need me, and you ended it. Do you even know what that feels like? You were the only person who saw everything. The only person who knew who I was."

"You agreed with me. You said that it was the right thing to do." Mike reminded you.

"What was I supposed to do? If you wanted to leave, there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to try to make you stay. I wouldn't have been fair," you told him, shaking your head.

"Neither is this." Mike gestured to the both of them. "You come back into my life as if everything is just the same. Well, it's not, it's different. I am different. We can't keep acting like a pair of teenagers with all the hormones racing. I can't do the casual thing with you."

"I don't trust you Mike, I want to but... I just can't. You don't remember what I was like for me back then. You were the only one I had, the only one I could really hold on to. I can't get hurt like that again, especially not by you." You told him.

"Then we both know where we stand." Mike said, crossing his arms over his chest. "This doesn't go any further that it already has."

You found yourself shrugging.

"Whatever you say Mike."

You watched as Mike turned his back on you and strode toward the elevators.

Some things were best left alone and Mike Dodds was one of them.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mike dodds headcannon #mike dodds imagine #reader x mike dodds #sergeant mike dodds #mike dodds #mike dodds x reader #law and order svu #law and order: special victims unit #law and order special victims unit #svu

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magiirealism · 20 days

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Encounter

Little establishing drabble for Emil and Iovita! Prompt from here.

While those who passed him by huddled down into their coats while their thick, woollen beanies hid the tops of their heads from sight, the demon required no such thing. He had never been one to feel the cold; some who dared to raise their heads to the bitter cold touch stared in amazement as they saw the man without so much as a shirt pass them by - though perhaps they also stared at the various tattoos, scars and brands about his torso or just due to the fact that they had never seen a man so beautiful nor brazen in their life.

(Every pair of eyes on him only inflated his ego further.)

Lights emanated from various buildings: clubs, pubs, bars and hotels which were open into the early hours of the morning, bringing light to a city which would otherwise only see the light of the moon and the stars until the sun peeked over the horizon. One of these establishments was his own Brimstone, a club from which he had already walked quite far.

As much as he loved the business which he had built from the ground up, it was difficult to resist the urge to see what else was happening about the city, what other characters populated its streets on any given night.

‘Halt, demon.’

Not even 10 minutes on the streets and it seemed like he’d already found someone of interest.

Emil looked in the direction of the voice, making no effort to turn his body also.

Standing outside the Hotel Triumph, some distance from the porte-cochere, was an individual near as tall as he was, and that’s where the similarities ended.

Theirs was hair of flowing blond, swept behind their back so that their pointed ears were revealed to all. Though Emil’s eyes were crimson in colour and comparable to a feline, he was at least capable of blending in; this individual had eyes of pure green, their pupils and irises different shades to what would typically be the whites of their eyes, beneath which a second set of eyes were being held firmly shut. They held a wooden staff - currently held out as though to stop Emil in his approach - and wore robes of white, though none of this was the strangest part of their appearance, for a halo made of light circled their head and sets of wings grew from their back.

Damn angels were lucky playing dress up seemed to have become popular among some humans as of late.

‘This business is the property of the Heavens; only angels and well-meaning humans are allowed on or near the premises.’

Emil smirked.

You needn’t be so hasty, he thought.

‘And if I decided not to heed your words of warning?’ he asked instead. Emil stepped towards the angel, who did nothing as much as flinch away, and put a finger beneath the staff. He tilted it upwards and inspected the emerald - or so it seemed to be - which adorned the end of the twisting, decorative wood. ‘If I were to instead set foot inside your establishment, what would you do then?’

‘Then I would have no choice but to obliterate you. None would think anything of one missing from your ranks.’

Emil laughed. The deep chuckle would be enough to make most think twice. Not this one, apparently. ‘Obliterate me? Do you have any idea who I am?’

The angel scowled.

How unbecoming.

Emil smirked.

‘You are a foul beast born of the depths of Hell. You have no place anywhere other than burning in the fires out of which you crawled.’

‘Ouch,’ said Emil sarcastically. ‘I will tell you who I am, so that you might boast later to your angel companions - if your kind are capable of something such as boasting - or rather, give them a warning when you crawl back to your home for assistance.

‘I am known as Aemilius Selvaggio, second of my name, Demon Prince of Treachery - the deepest circle of Hell, if you are so uninformed.’

‘I did not ask for your life story,’ the angel sneered. ‘I warned you to leave if you value your life.’

‘You do not understand, do you, angel?’ Emil knocked the staff away - not hard enough so the angel was no longer in possession of it - and stepped towards its owner, close enough as to take their chin in his hand, long nails wrapping about their chin as he looked down upon them. ‘Many demons fight and kill to find their position in a royal family. They will go so far as to kill newly born imps to get what they desire. I required no such thing. I was born into my role, beating back and taking the lives of my adversaries, of my very own brothers and sisters, to become the next in line for the throne.

‘I am not any demon, angel.’ Emil’s nails dug into their skin, sharpened fangs on display as he smirked. ‘I am the strongest demon alive.’

‘A demon is naught but an angel with his power revoked,’ retorted the angel. ‘Even the strongest of demons has but a fraction of the power of a guardian of Heaven.’

‘A guardian of Heaven? Is that what you claim to be?’ Emil then feigned hurt as he said, ‘And you didn’t even give me your name with your introduction.’

‘I am as much a guardian of Heaven as you are a Prince of Treachery. As for my name, I owe you no such thing - I am sure you would only aim to use it against me.’

And as though with perfect timing, a man called from the hotel side of the porte-cochere, ‘Iovita, would you mind giving us a hand?’

Again, the angel scowled.

‘Well, Iovita,’ said Emil as he let go of the angel, ‘it seems you have a busy night. It would be terribly cruel to keep you from your business, would it not? Oh, and you need not worry about me; I simply run a nightclub down the road. Come by Brimstone if you ever decide you need to… let loose.’

‘Not in your dreams,’ Iovita replied through gritted teeth. ‘And demon, I want to make sure you are aware of this: if you ever return to this place, if you attempt to set foot in the Hotel Triumph, I will kill you.’

Emil smiled.

He waved back to Iovita.

‘I look forward to it.’

#i finally did it... one (1) thing....#m: aemilius #m: iovita #drabble tbt

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spookylair · 6 months

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11/11/23, 3am

you’re a drumbeat in the back of my brain

two syllables, repeating: rolling off my tongue

in those moments where I forget I am alive

your name, your voice, your hands

the warmth of you, dissipating into open air–

(did they catch your blood, hold it in?

did they succeed in leading you home?)

we were two lost souls

swimming in our little circles

and I can’t tell anyone

who knew you & of you

what hell I’m in, here

grief is so intimate

so isolating

I’m alone in this

(you’re gone)

it’s been three weeks

and I’m only halfway here

breathing and eating and walking

while you’re miles and hours and lifetimes

away, some indecipherable chasm yawning between us

it’s still not real to me, this isn’t real. I’m not real

it can’t be over like this, not like this, no–

I keep fixating:

did you suffer? were you laying next to a table where you colored with crayons?

did you bleed out on a carpet that hosted sleepovers and late-night talks and family gatherings?

did you die in front of a TV that held you still for endless hours?

(I don’t know, I don’t know if any of that is true, I don’t–)

did you know it was him doing this?

did you know your mother died, too?

did you know you helped your twin escape?

(I know she buried you & her, three days later,

ringed by friends and family–)

I asked to come down for that

and was told no so very gently

ah, I am too loud for them still

my standing is hollow

without you here

I’m struck silent by the thought of you

it haunts my nights, drags at my bones

pulls me to stillness over and over

my dreams are full of you

finding your heart,

keeping you safe from your brother

a threadbare hotel bed

our road trip,

our single date,

that doomed kiss–

you, you, you.

you were dead already

when a car trunk swung down and sliced my nose open;

the ensuing anguish, the rictus of tears, the screaming

has left me with a crooked, tender scar

I find myself touching it

thinking of blood and pain

and the price of love

I was nineteen when I met you

and we tried so hard to pick each other apart

it took years to reach consensus, to find solace

to remember why we’d fallen in love in the first place

(you and me, orbiting endlessly)

it’s only now I realize I didn’t actually get over you

I was a coward: I figured everything was better left unsaid

because neither of us had the right to pry that door open again

but I wish I had stayed, when you asked me to. I wanted to.

I should have, maybe (even though others tell me what I did was

the right thing for you, avenues better left alone, what if you hadn’t moved on?)

I’d like to think you did. I’d like to think you barely thought of me

anything more, and I’m down the deepest hole I can find

convinced I don’t deserve the sunlight–

I’m withdrawing, keeping to the surface

turning away from others when I cry

deflecting, disarming, denying

keeping the focus away

but the grief blinds me

sends me crashing to the floor

I lose time, heartbeats, motion

I think: it can’t get any worse

but oh, I’m wrong

I’m wrong, I’m wrong

I miss you.

this can’t be the end

tell me I’m just dreaming

(come wake me up)

look

I wish I could talk about you

to any of our college friends

but no one knows what happened

there is no sympathy for me here

just stories lionizing you

(I do just the same)

or, that I could to any of my high school friends

because they remembered what you’d done

there is no sympathy for you there

just stories demonizing you

(it was what I needed)

trapped by our reckoning

frozen by the swiftness

of your departure–

listen

I want the right to mourn you

no caveats, no “we weren’t as close”

no “we haven’t really talked in months”

no “I don’t know his preferences anymore”

no questions about your growth & change

I want to grieve without judgment

without holding back, without worry

but no one really understands

ah god, am I alone?

I love you.

I loved you.

I loved you still.

my boyfriend points out you were my first love

and I’m gutted by this characterization

it feels wasted on me

I’m sorry for everything I said and didn’t do

for everything I did and could not say

for not seeing you when I should have

for not visiting you like I swore I would

for taking advantage of your generosity

I’m spinning out again,

the regrets choking me silent

I cannot keep doing this

so I’ll carry you with me

hope the intervening years

will grant me some measure of

peace (solace) healing

I know there’s a way through

(like how you showed me, after Mom)

but it’s cold comfort, living

without you here.

#personal #fuck #R.

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lazywritingrockstudent · 1 year

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Have I been wrong?

I have felt like I need to go on and never stop. Not for a second lingering in my path, ever in motion and rotating and bending and working towards a goal.

There is no such thing as cowardice even though I knew that what I did was exactly that. I chose to not choose at all. I decided to not decide when all I really ever wanted was to not have to choose on my path. I wanted to know what it was like to travel all the way and not stop and share and divide and regain my composure time and time again. Hell, if what I did was not cowardice then courage doesn’t even exist. Why can no one tell me, if what I did was right, or if I should’ve just decided that the other way around was better or even worse or if I could’ve just walked straight through the damned wall and painted it like the chaos that I felt in my heart?! Is it really too much to ask to be able to live through it all? I know I missed what I wanted to keep, and I missed what you learned to be, and I missed every possibility to be me! I decided wrong to decide wrong to choose the other above the first and when I’m finished, I still didn’t do it right. Will there ever be a right? Because right now it doesn’t seem like it will or is it just that it’s my idealistic will to keep on because I’m strong headed enough to want to return and undo it just as I want to keep it? Is this me running in endless circles, around and around and always around, and never able to clear my path? Never able to see ahead and be free of having to be something that won’t ever feel right in my bones? Will it eternally be eternal yeses and noes and noes and yeses, and will I ever understand why I even had the choice when all I was left with in the end was regretting to never take the other thing? I’ve once been willing to take the world raw, and it never occurred to me that I would be anything but miserable after the first separating path. And have I been wrong? Have I not been the one to wonder and carry on and wander through the darkest depths of deepest sea and even though I was afraid of being me it was right, and it was where I wanted to be. Except that I don’t know where that is. Where I had to turn and where I had to follow, and if there was a choice I had to make.

I’m glad enough to not have to be the leave on the tree when the season changes and I would lose my green. I could never be able to decide if I wanted to be red or orange or yellow or all the colours together or the last green one when the storm would catch them and let them fall to the ground where they would rot because they where not needles but leaves after all.

It would be easier to ask me who I am than to tell you what I chose since who I am is what I already know. I would tell you that I want to fly, fly, fly high above the sky always to the stars in the darkest of nights. I would ask you if you couldn’t see that I was drowning deep in darkest depths of deepest sea, always on the edge of being me? I would ask: ‘Won’t you believe that it’s me I’m frightened to see and that I’d rather meet the darkest nights instead of the glee that I might catch at the edge of my eye?’ I would tell you that surely you know that you are how I picture my peace of mind and that you are just and that you are kind and that you know what you want in your life, and that this is all I want in my life. But surely you too know that who I am is not how I wake up in the day, always afraid and somehow only brave in the face of my mind’s raids. I would tell you that I’m only me high above the sky under the clouds of night and behind those who know what is right. I’m a shadow, I’m the dark. I’m the one who only sparks when all around are losing their hearts and my heart is the one that’s beating within the stars. I breathe to the rhythm of the leaves and the breathing of the trees. To the written down thoughts hidden under the waves and waves of sea. I walk to the creatures of dark deep soul and the ones who only show that they exist in the face of the words ‘I know’ and somehow this is the only thing I don’t know how to do.

So, you can ask me again who I am, and I’ll tell you that that’s something I can’t tell in the possible words of your mind so you might actually understand. But I’d rather tell you that than to choose not to choose a way to try to explain why the last time my path separated I sat down and cried and couldn’t stop crying until I had to move again and leave behind the sorrow and the pain when I would’ve loved to take both ways.

Isn’t it better to fly above the separating way and avoid the heartbreak when you realize that you should’ve maybe never have been there in the first place? Isn’t it better to be what cannot decide since all that came of choice was guilt of neglecting a side? Since all that came of choice was me hating myself for wanting it all and never being able to make that call. Since all that came of choice was freedom and freedom was what scared me to a point where I knew I couldn’t withdraw. If it would have just been me being free of having to choose what I wanted it to be…

#poetry #dark academia #night poetry

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cozycottagetarot · 3 years

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Pick A Pile: How Can You Take Better Care of Yourself?

I did this reading a bit different from my others. It’s mainly based on impressions as I’m only using the images and any text on the cards at face value along with whatever else comes to me. So feedback would be appreciated. Another thing is the piles all have intertwining messages so if you feel drawn to two piles, then by all means I encourage you to check them both out.

Paid Readings (I’ll be updating them again)

Disclaimer: All readings and tarot/blog games are for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I asks that you trust yourself above all else. Finally please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

PILE 1

Tarot Cards: 7 of Cups, 8 of Wands, The Sun

Pile 1, the way you can take better care of yourself is by making a decision. With the 7 of Cups I see that you have all these opportunities being presented in front of you but you have no idea which one to go with. I get the impression from the cards that from postponing making a decision or choice, you’re starting to feel the brightness in other areas of your life dim. With the 8 of Wands and The Sun following however, I feel like once you make a decision, results and positive things will happen quickly, bringing you happiness. The Sun has a faint face depicted in it, so I feel like you don’t have to worry too much about unintended consequences. I see this as a sign you are being protected from unintended or unpleasant consequences as a result of your decision. Also, connecting with your inner child may be a way to help you make this decision.

The next cards that came out are: Protection (Call back your power. Cut the cords. Soul retrieval.) Soul Family (Call in your tribe. You don’t have to do it alone.) Anna, Grandmother of Jesus (Seeding the light, laying foundations. Divine plan.) The Ever-Unfolding Rose (Cracked open. It’s happening for you, not to you.)

With these cards I think some of you could be going through a 'dark night of the soul' (read: a very difficult time in your life). You may be feeling like somewhere along the line you’ve lost yourself or your direction as to where you’re heading next in life or what it is you truly desire (any Lucifer fans here because I hear Tom Ellis’s voice in my head haha). You may be asking yourself questions such as 'Why is this the way life is happening? Why me? Who am I even?' But even though it might seem unfair or lacking sense right now, keep in mind that whatever is going on is helping you in some format. Situations within reason of course, using your discernment here is best. It’s truly all about how you tell your story. Another thing is you don’t have to make these decisions on your own. Turn to your family and your friends for help/advice. If necessary, maybe you can seek professional help. If either or those things isn't really an option, you could always try taking some time to nurture yourself and journey inside to help you remember or figure out what’s important to you. When you make that effort to find/listen to yourself outside of the noise of everything else, I think that’s when you’ll find the information necessary to help make your decision.

Remaining Cards: The Hourglass Dolphin (46) — your achievement is only a matter of time. The Three Rhine Maidens (15) — love is a virtue that endure eternally.

The Hourglass Dolphin is all about finding balance between two aspects of your life, typically work and play. Dividing your time and remembering to put EXTRA care into taking care of your basic needs is another thing that’s going to help you find success. I feel like you are in a transitory phase and it really is only a matter of time before whatever darkness that may be clouding your life right now disappears.

The Three Rhine Mermaids talks about a phase in your life coming full circle, and once that happens your hearts desires are going to start materialising in your physical/the 3D.

The North Witch (23) — This card just kind of confirms or reiterates that with patience this dark phase is going to fade.

The Toad Witch (7) —This card talks about gaining wisdom from adversity. Also a secret admirer as well. There were messages of love laced through out the cards but they weren’t clear until now. Similarly, I think this will reflect in your life that after you’ve found stability once things have cleared up, you will find love as well.. or better yet, love will find you. Do keep in mind it might not be super quick… maybe Spring or Summer (depending on when you're reading this).

Self Care Activities Ideas (Homemade deck): Look good; feel good (put effort into looking the way you want), Believe In Yourself, Have a fruit (incorporate more fruits into your diet).

PILE 2

Hello Pile 2. The way for you to take better care of yourself right now is through doing what makes you happy.

Tarot Cards: Ace of Swords, The Sun, The Devil

I actually pulled the Ace of Swords last. Also before I started focusing on your pile while shuffling, the Four of Swords reversed came out.

Thinking of these two cards together, I think you need to pull back and ask yourself if what you’re doing is really the best thing for you. I feel like you guys could be in a really good place right now— at least at face value. The cards have darker backgrounds, except The Sun. I feel like whatever you are doing isn’t really sparking joy inside. Maybe it’s familial or peer pressure related? The life path you’re on right now seems ideal and fulfilling to everyone else, but somehow I feel like deep down inside it doesn’t feel that way. You may feel chained or held back as shown by The Devil. Looking at The Sun and The Devil, they came out together side by side. I feel like this is more family related meaning parents, parental figures or mentors. They may be trying to look out for you by telling you to study a certain topic or take a certain job because it’s safe, when what you truly want to do may be a little bit more risky. So even though you’re playing it safe right now and have things to celebrate, you may not be able to shake the that unsatisfied feeling inside.

The next cards that came out are: Warrior Woman (Have you answered your deepest calling?) Play (Have fun. Celebrate. Don’t be so serious.) Break The Chain (Ancestral patterns. Healing. Rewriting the future.) Transformation (Things are changing at a cellular level. Deep healing.)

All the figures in these cards look like they’re in their power. It makes me think you may be ignoring or avoiding stepping into the energy of your higher self. I kind of had the though fear of backlash pop into my head, and while it is a valid fear, I don’t feel like it’s something you have to worry about a lot. I feel like you need to schedule more time for yourself in general as well. You can’t ‘fight’ for other people all the time, you also have to ‘fight’ for you.

I’m just noticing something about the placement of the cards. Warrior Woman has a sword and is placed right next the the Ace of Swords. Break The Chain is right next to The Devil, and the sun is shining in Transformation and Play, in the same position as the one in The Sun… As I was saying, I feel like you need to just take a moment to connect with yourself. Ask yourself what is it you truly want and begin rewriting your future*.

*This is the part where I let it be known I need people to practice life coaching with so if you’re interested you can message me. 18 years and up only though.

Remaining Cards: The Siren (14) — In the treasure of a day, light is thrown on what could be tomorrow. The Stripped Dolphin (30) Good news, flowing through the ether waves will answer your prayers.

The Siren Is mostly about observation and not forcing connections. The Stripped Dolphin is about good things happening for you, especially by surprise. It’s also about new beginnings in any area of your life. However there’s also a message about not getting caught up in many opportunities, so if you were drawn to pile 1 as well, I see this as a sign to check out the pile as well.

The Silver Moon Witch (2) has a message of being able to see progress by the next full or new moon. However this card advises you to choose carefully when it’s the right time to go with the flow versus ‘swimming’ against the tide. Relating to above, journey inside yourself to figure out if you are taking the right course if action by choosing to stick with the path you’re on versus yelling plot twist and doing something different.

The Full Moon Witch (18) has two sides to it. On one hand you can expect ‘heartfelt’ plans coming to fruition, but on the other hand emotions may be running high and words that aren’t meant may be said. This another one of the moon phases cards, so you may find during the full moon you may have disagreements with your loved ones but once it starts to wane, disagreements may also reach a resolution. I think this relates to the The Silver Moon Witch card as well, so maybe before or during a full moon may not be the best time to bring up anything that may cause a disagreement?

Self Care Activities Ideas (Homemade deck): Journal, Get Creative, Listen To Music (there may be messages in songs for you)

PILE 3

Pile 3, you guys have been giving me hell from the moment I sat down to pull cards for your reading. From focusing and interpreting to editing. Everything was a mess and I’m assuming you a significant part of your life maybe as well? Or your headspace at least.

Aside from my struggles with your reading, based on the cards, I see you need to focus on yourself.

Tarot Cards: The Chariot, The High Priestess, Queen of Wands reversed.

Starting with your Tarot in no particular order, you have The Chariot, The High Priestess and Queen of Wands reversed. The Queen of Wands is my ideal (you) card. When it’s reversed, I see it as a sign [you] are not embodying the energy of your highest self and/or something in your life is out of balance. Both The Chariot and The High Priestess have black and white polarities, so I see it more as you needing to put yourself back into balance. Something may feel hidden from you, though you’re not really sure what and you want to push forward but it’s just not really happening? On the bottom of the deck is the 9 of Swords which notes to fear, depression, anxiety, etc and is needing to release those emotions. Obviously it can be more complex than it sounds, but I’m hoping you get the idea. Brain-dump came to me. Maybe you need to do a brain-dump and survey/assess your ‘kingdom’ so you can flip that Queen of Wands energy around and allow your chariot to race onward. The next cards that came out are:

The Crumbling (What are you clinging on to?) —> Do you need to release anything? Material items, a goal, a belief, way of life, or maybe just the act of trying to have it all together?

Boundaries (Where do you need to establish better boundaries?) —> Do you need better boundaries with yourself? Habits? People? Enviroment? School/Career?

Share Your Voice (Come out of the cave. Persecution. Expression.) It’s time to step into the limelight, because the world is your stage. Maybe you’ve been hanging back and suppressing who you truly are, but now it’s time to step forward into a new role… a you role. You don’t have to go from stand in actor to lead role over night, but do brainstorm and take baby steps daily to get there.

Keepers Of The Earth (You are not alone. Ancient ancestors stand beside you.) Take the meaning as you will, but I see it as a message to look for support in unexpected places. Maybe it’s an online community of people who can relate to you. Maybe it’s a book, article or video. Who knows, it could even be a friend or family member you didn’t think could relate or help you out. Remaining Cards: The Kraken (38) — Your success and happiness lie within you. The Great Sea Monster (37) — To accomplish you dream plan and believe.

The main theme of The Kraken is release. Good fortune/luck will come to you by delving into your subconscious mind to free the conscious. Returning to nature and the things that bring you inner joy. Good fortune coming in small waves which eventually grow into big ones.

The Great Sea Monster is about taking action and again, freeing your conscious mind by looking into your unconscious mind. Also there is more than one way to solve a dilemma, you just have to search the right way. The Immortal Witch (4) — new beginnings are happening for you, and your desires are on their way to you although it might not appear so currently. (Kind of like planting a seed. It’s growing though we can’t see it until it burst through the soil). The Fairy Ring Witch (9) — mental and physical communication. Connecting with or making friends with similar skills or talents. Self Care Activities Ideas (Homemade deck): Tend to yourself, Slow and steady, Get creative, Read a book (maybe a self help book relevant to what you're going through).

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a picture #tarot reading #pick a pile reading #pac #pac reading #ariesmoontarot

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qtipcottonbuds · 3 years

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𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝙀𝙇𝙁.

i love this song so much, and although originally i wanted to have this fic with lucifer in mind, i felt it fitted mammon much more >:D

warnings for themes of self destructive behaviours and angst !!

by qtipcottonbuds 2021. do not repost.

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥;

Mammon; confident, iconic and self assured.

That’s what he liked to think he portrayed himself as to others, it was easy keeping that front up; the image he maintained wasn’t false completely - he was confident, what reason would he have not to be? Being the second-oldest to Lucifer came with its own set of responsibilities, let alone being the Avatar of Greed.

But Mammon supposes with greed comes the need for reassurance, it would only make sense for it to go hand in hand. Being plentiful naturally brought self-support - but abundance would disappear as quickly as it came - and he also supposes, that was one of his greatest flaws. The need for more. Nothing ever being enough. The irony of exuding such assertiveness; was Mammon himself, enough for you?

It had just been a small, offhanded comment from Asmo, that’s all.

Nothing new, and nothing to worry about. A simple, “You don’t deserve them.”

Even so, it dug into his deepest insecurities and he wasn’t the best of brothers, people at that; but for you, he wanted to be the best he could be. He wanted to treat you just right.

You’d offered to cover some of his debts that still needed paying off after a drunken binge at Hell’s Kitchen, the tab steadily increasing after losing bets to Belphie and Beel over time. And yet, even when he was completely wasted, he remember the feeling of you aiding him back to his room (drunk beyond belief) and avoiding his retorts for more alcohol, when he was struggling to let you tuck him into bed insisting that he was absolutely fine; and you comforting him - telling him it was going to be okay. And for once, he believed those words.

When it came to you, he always would. It was you.

In the meanwhile, Mammon decides to hide away in the safety of his room, both from Lucifer hanging him from the ceiling and you (the embarrassment for the way he acted the night before is still fresh in his mind). And maybe, try to nurse his hangover, the curtains being thankfully shut. Although it was normally dark in the Devildom, the star constellations could still provide and act as guidance.

He knows you’ll find him bundled up in bed, and speaking of the devil, you’re already knocking softly paired with a gentle, “Is it okay if I come in?”

Mumbling back with a, “‘course,” he watches you wordlessly come in, still dressed in pajamas - before snuggling beside him in bed, “you ‘kay?”

“Just worried about you, bub,” a soft hum.

The conversation lapses into a comfortable silence, mainly on your part, eyes struggling to stay open - Mammon awkwardly questioning mentally on what to say, what to do; if there was one thing he was good at, it was being direct.

“Listen, er, do… am I really deservin’ of yer love,” the question alone it seems is enough to shake you back awake, hands reassuringly coming hold his.

“Has someone said something to you, Mammon?”

It was a simple, stupid comment. But here he is, unable to blink back away the tears as you rub small circles into his palms - you were so good to him. Too good to him; maybe Asmo was right, you did deserve-

“Hey, hey.. It’s okay bub, it’s alright,” and he can feel your hands cupping his cheeks, eyes too blurry to make out a clear picture of you wiping away at stray tears with your thumbs, “talk me through it, I’m listening.”

It’s hard to swallow properly against the lump in his throat, “I just, yer do so much for me. Too much n’ I’m wonderin’ if I’m not doin’ enough for yer in return, relationships are about give and take n’ vice versa but I should be givin’ to ya as well, n’ maybe you deserve someone who can give that to you-” this time, Mammon can’t stop the whimper that comes out. How pathetic.

Dabbing away his tears on his eyelashes with the fabric of your pajamas, some sense of clarity returning, he then feels a soft kiss pressed to his head before watching you direct his face to look up at you.

“Firstly, I don’t deserve someone else who can give that to me, because you already give me the support I need, in ways you might not think are important,” two kisses smooth on his eyelids, “secondly, you don’t need to give me anything in return for anything I do, or ‘vice versa’, I do it, because I love you. That’s all there is to it. And you love me too, no?”

“‘Course, I do, baby, but-”

“Then that’s all that matters. You don’t need to give me anymore or any less of anything, you’re perfect as you are. I’m in a relationship with you, for a reason. It’s between me and you, no one else.”

Oh. Oh.

One day, Mammon considers that eventually he’ll be able to look at kindness as love and not a payment. He looks forward to that day.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #gender neutral character #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #mammon x gender neutral reader #mammon x female reader #mammon x male reader #angst

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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

#ncssianwrites #a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fanfic #nessian au

238 notes · View notes

wornoutmouse · 4 years

Text

Day 8: Somnophilia

@ozarkthedog

Warning: Slight degradation, dubious content? (I mean he agreed to it but it wasn't necessarily official)

Always establish consent kiddos

You wouldn't say you were a selfish lover, I mean your praise kink could attest to that fact alone. But with Aizawa's schedule being stretched so thin, you were getting close to losing it. You knew that hero work was important and you couldn't even begin to fathom taking part in raising the next heroes for Japan, but you had your personal needs as well damnit!

"Hey." you smiled softly at your older boyfriend watching as he practically dragged himself across the floor to your shared bedroom. You only received a tired grunt in response as Shota went to the bathroom to wash off todays filth. You sighed, angrily staring down your dinner as if accusing it of doing you wrong.

Aizawa stepped out of the shower wearing a tank top and some black sweats. You did your best not to look needy as he sat down at the table with his plate. For the most part, you ate in silence with short talk regarding how each other's day was. You couldn't help but smile at how blissed out your partner looked eating your food, and you secretly thanked your granny for teaching you all that you knew.

To your disappointment, Aizawa went to bed mumbling that he was extremely tired and you couldn't bring yourself to protest as you observed the dark bags under his eyes and how unkept his beard was. "I gotta trim that." you mutter as you glare at the dishes.

Turning in for the night, you drag yourself into the shared room and slip into your own tank top and shorts, sighing as you release your tiddies from their fabric prison. You slip into the bed and tense as Aizawa turns and brings you against him in a warm embrace. Suddenly your horny complaints disappeared in that moment and you sighed into the hold.

'Well...that shit didn't last long.' you grumbled as you lay still trying not to wake up Aizawa. Speaking of the devil, you stay quiet as you listen and feel him change position curving you more and more into the little spoon position. "You've got to be kidding me." you growled as you felt something hard and hot poking you and you knew damn well it wasn't love and affection.

"The dude can't dick me down but he sure as hell tease me with his dick huh?" you questioned out loud to no one. You sit up and look down timidly at your lover grimacing as you recall a previous conversation the two of you had.

"Well since the USJ attacks I've been getting drilled by Nezu to spend even more time training the brats so don't be surprised if our personal time is cut short." you pouted as you help onto Aizawa's arm sticking your tongue out when he glared at you. "But what if I get horny?!" you whined putting all your weight on him. "Get yourself off you damn brat!" he said shoving your face away from himself.

You got a creepy look on your face, "Be careful Aizawa, I might just jump you in your sleep!" you tease wiggling your fingers at him whining when he slaps them away. "I don't care as long as you don't bother me!"

No sitting in the dark at 1 in the morning you were really considering jumping his bones as he sleeps. "Damn my hypersexuality!" you grumble as you swing your legs over to straddle him. "He won't wake up, he sleeps like a log," you tell yourself to build up the courage.

You begin to grind on his bulge trying to get it all the way up. You huff as your heart rate slowly rises from the little stimulation you were receiving from the way his bulge was rubbing against your clothed pussy.

After a while of dry humping, you slowly lift the tank top and you drool at the sight of his toned stomach. Unable to help yourself, you bend down to nibble and kiss along the faint ab lines. You felt the skin beneath your lips tremble slightly and you glance up quickly making sure he was still sleeping. You hook your fingers on the waist of his sweats and do your best at pulling them down enough for his hard cock to comedically hit you in the face.

"Even unconscious he's a jackass." you mumble jokingly. For a while, you do nothing but stare at it as you couldn't help but marvel at how gorgeous it looked shinning in the dim moonlight. "So pretty.." you sigh softly before lightly taking it in your hand and stroking it. "Even if I'm doing this for me, I still want to make him feel good."

At this level of stimulation, it was to be expected for him to start reacting. You gazed up to ensure his eyes remained closed as you took in all the groans that slipped from his mouth. You gave small kisses and licks around the base just like you knew he liked it. In return, his member kept supplying you graciously with sticky precum that drenched your hand as you continued your ministrations.

Finally, you take it inside your mouth sucking lightly on the tip before sucking slowly on his sack. You trail your hands down your stomach circling your belly button before shoving your hands in your pants, moaning at how wet you were. You gathered your juices that trickled down your legs and used it to assist your finger inside yourself. To your glee, you were aroused enough to slip two fingers inside quickly.

As you worked yourself open, you close your eyes trying to imagine your fingers as Shota's. Thinking of how his thick and calloused fingers had to take longer to go in but when they did, they reached your deepest place with ease. You whined, tears building up in your eyes from pleasure and you quickly decided that you could no longer wait and positioned yourself over Shota.

Opening your folds with one hand and positioning his cock with the other, you slowly sink down hissing at the warm burn and you do your best to take it all in. As you wait for your body to adjust, you slide one of your hands up to play with your chest while you use the other to play with Shota's.

You're suddenly gasping for air as your neck is grabbed and your cunt is getting roughly pounded into. "W-Wait t-to fast!" you scream holding tightly onto Shota's shoulders snapping your eyes open only to gaze into angry red ones.

"Oh, am I going to fast? You should have thought about that before you decided to be a damn slut while I was sleeping!" you spasm on his cock as you reach your first orgasm. You're quickly flipped onto your back and both of your thick legs are being held tightly as Aizawa continues to fuck into you at an abnormal speed for someone who's been sleeping.

"Thought you could get your freak on and I wouldn't know kitty cat?" Aizawa growled as he opens your legs so he could look at you. Using one hand, he yanks your tank top up to expose your breasts leaning down to take one into his mouth harshly biting the nipple. "I couldn't hel-p it!" you moan feeling your head hitting the headboard slightly. "I know you couldn't, you're just my slutty little kitty, that's exactly why you're going to take Daddy's dick like a good girl." Aizawa nibbles neck in an attempt at muffling his own moans.

All you could feel was the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly at rapid speed and you couldn't determine whether you loved or hated it as your second orgasm hit you making you shake as drool falls out your open mouth. Aizawa kisses you deeply using his tongue to explore your mouth with such vigor, it made you dizzy. After a long while you felt him get close to his end when he slows down and focuses on how much force he puts into his thrusts rather than the speed. "Cum in me!" you beg pulling him in close leaving scratches on his back. To your dismay, Aizawa pulls back and out, "Only good girls get that." For the rest of the time your a hiccuping, overstimulated mess as he lazily jerks his cock and rubs your clit bringing you to your final orgasm as he cums over your stomach.

He lets you lay there staring at the ceiling in a daze as he gets himself a drink of water and you a wet cloth to wipe you down. "Are okay?" he asks. And you could only nod as you yawned, "I'm sorry for waking you up." you apologized as you watched Aizawa slip into bed next to you frowning at the sweaty sheets. "I already told you I don't care, but next time be quieter." he smirks pulling you closer to him.

#aizawa smut #bnha aizawa #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #aizawa x poc #aizawa shouta x black! reader #mha #somnophilia #kinktober #black y/n #blackreader

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goldencherryhazz · 3 years

Text

my stress reliever

Sub!h x reader

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving) fluff and some swearing

A/N: so the grammys are tomorrow and I am not prepared physically or mentally, so I decided to write a little something to calm myself. Its nearly 2am so there’s probably a load of mistakes! Pls don’t copy my work. Hope you enjoy!

It was the night before the Grammys and Harry had to admit he was feeling a bit stressed but even more nervous, he was so grateful for the fact that he would not only be opening the show, but that he had been nominated for not one, not two, but three Grammys.

When he got the phone call from his manager Jeff he was over the moon and y/n was jumping for joy, whilst hugging Harry, he was also pretty sure he saw a couple tears slip down her cheeks. That feeling lasted for weeks, but now with less than 24 hours to go the nerves had definitely set in and he didn’t know how to soothe them and had been basking in his troublesome thought for the past 40 minutes.

Y/n was currently out shopping for some essentials but Harry wanted her to be no where else except in his arms, they had both become a bit clingy towards each other during the pandemic, they had heard lots of couples break up or get divorces, but with Harry touring all over the globe and y/n having to stay put for her own jobs hey were more than happy to spend months on end together.

When he heard the front door open he practically leaped up from his spot on the couch, rounding the corner to the hallway immediately spotting y/n carrying multiple bags, still clad in a coat and woolly hat, her cheeks slightly red from the cold air even though it was nearly half way through March.

‘Hiya baby’ she smiles at him

‘Hi angel, missed you’ he said fumbling with the ends of his fingers.

‘I’ve only been gone about half an hour H’ she chuckled slightly, sensing he wasn’t feeling himself and hadn’t been all day.

‘Wanna come and help me put some shopping away’ she asked starting to take her hat and coat off, before getting a nod of the head in return his shy eyes making contact with hers. She ventured her way through to the kitchen, Harry trailing his way behind her like a lost puppy, starting to feel a bit calmer just due to her presence.

They then started to putting items in their allocated places in their kitchen, working like a dynamic duo somehow knowing wherever the other was at each given moment. Once the last item was put away Harry folds away the bags and puts them in a cupboard to be used another time. He then stands there in front of her, strands of his hair falling into his face in which y/n reaches out to push them back, he nuzzled into the slight touch, craving closeness with his girl. He makes grabby hands towards her in which she immediately complied and crashed into his warm chest wrapping her arms round his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair. He sighed deeply in contentness but with a hint of worrysome into the crook of her neck ‘what’s going on in that head of yours baby’

‘I’m just worrying about tomorrow’ he speaks honestly ‘there’s just loads of thoughts of what could go wrong running through my head, and I can’t stop them’

‘Well I know that once you get out on that stage you are going to take it and rock the hell out of it, cause that’s just you and no matter how much you doubt yourself I know you are going to be amazing no matter what happens, and I think I can speak for pretty much everyone when I say that, you’re incredible baby no matter if you win a Grammy or not, I don’t really care about a shiny piece of metal I care about you’

‘But what if I mess up the words to the songs, or fall over on stage or something stupid like that’ he rushes out.

‘Your overwhelmed baby, and that’s very understandable because you haven’t really been doing a lot of this stuff cause of the pandemic, you just need to get in the swing of things again, but I’ll be there every step of the way, don’t need to be nervous H I’m here’ she cooed as he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

‘Thankyou angel, I love you, don’t know how much I needed to hear that’ he whispered kissing her neck.

‘I love you too, no need to thank me baby, that’s why I’m here, I’ll always be your moral support. If you want I can stand at the side of the stage with banners and everything,’ she says manoeuvring to grab a tea towel to demonstrate, she starts to swing her hips around, her body going in a circle with her hands in the air that was gripping the towel, whilst cheering ‘go H, go baby, go H, go baby.’ This made Harry laugh, a real laugh immediately lighting up the whole atmosphere. He swore he couldn’t live without this girl, who was dancing around the kitchen and would probably actually do what she was demonstrating on the side of the stage whilst he performed at the Grammys, because she cared about him that much.

‘There’s that smile, missed seeing that on your pretty face today’ she smiled right back at him, glad that he was happy again.

She made her way back to him, hugging him once again placing a kiss to the side of his jaw.

‘Wanna go upstairs and get all snuggy?’ She questioned.

‘Yeah, sounds perfect angel’

‘C’mon then’ grabbing his hand and leading them to their bedroom.

When they were half up the stairs y/n suddenly spins to face him again ‘you know, if your still feeling stressed I can help you even more, pretty sure I could eliminate all of it’

‘And how do you plan on doing that angel’

‘Oh my beautiful boy, the list goes on and on’ she says almost seductively.

They both knew where this was heading so they start to rush more up the stairs, excited to get to the bedroom, and as soon as they are and the door is shut behind them, Harry is pushed so his back was against the door before y/n starts kissing his lips hungrily, biting and sucking hickeys onto his neck making him groan ‘wanna be my baby boy tonight, just want to love you on you, make sure you’re totally stress free, how does that sound baby’

He whimpers at her words he could feel his length harden at her words ‘y-yes angel, want you to take control, wanna be your baby boy’

In turn y/n whimpers feeling her panties get wetter and wetter, she backed him up to the king-size bed, their lip connecting and reconnecting, the head in the room seeming to go up about 10 degrees, Harry loved it when y/n had her way with him, taking control of his pleasure, making him cum so hard he saw stars, he swore she was magical, the fact that he was worrying about every little thing about 20 minutes ago and now not having a care in the world, he could have been in the deepest, darkest whole and she still would be a been able to pull him out.

She turns both their bodies so that Harry’s would be the first to hit the bed, she was kissing him so hard it was making his knees buckle ‘do you want to take your shirt off and lay on the bed for me baby boy’ she says in which he quickly complies, lifting the fabric over his head, to see y/n doing the same taking her bra off at the same time, making him practically drool at the sight of her perky tits just begging to be played with.

He laid on the bed following her instructions, waiting for her to come over to him, and when she did y/n let out a small moan at the sight of his fucked out face and she had barely touched him, she loved it when he was like this, letting her take control when the roles were usually reversed, she just wanted to make him feel as good as he made her feel, which was pretty dam amazing.

She leaned over kissing his lips, her tongue diving into his mouth dancing with his own, she pulled away slowly ‘what do you want me to do to you baby’ she asked already knowing the answer ‘want me to play with you cock’

He whimpered and nods, his doe eyes begging her to do something about the tent in his sweats.

‘Use you words baby, wanna hear you say it’

‘P-please angel, want y-you to play with my cock’

‘Okay baby boy’ she reaches down to the tie on his sweats undoing the bow slowly, almost teasing him making him squirm and moan out ‘please touch me angel, m’starting to ache’ she works quicker getting the trousers off of his legs before throwing them somewhere in the room, then going back to pull his boxers down his long legs, his cock finally springing free from its confines and gently hitting his stomach.

Her eyes went wide at the sight of his cock, the tip an angry shade of red leaking precum, the thick veins more prominent, his balls looking deliciously filled with cum, just ready for a release. She lays between his spread legs, wasting no time in gripping his girthy shaft in her hand making Harry throw his head back and stifle out a load moan, she smiled knowing she was making his feel good with only one touch. ‘Who’s made you this hard baby?’

‘You angel, only you’ he moans as she starts bringing her hand up and down his cock, her thumb swirling over his sensitive tip making him groan every time. She then brings her head down, making eye contact with his green orbs as he lifted his up, her lips encased his tip before going down inch by inch until she was about half way, Harry let out a prolonged moan, loving the feeling of her mouth in him. Y/n brought her head up after a few more seconds gasping for air ‘taste so good baby, can’t wait to taste that cum though’ he whimpered his legs spreading even more to give her more room. When she reattached her lips to his shaft she starts bobbing her head up and down, taking him down her throat aswell, her hand tugging the rest ‘feels so good angel’ he says whilst gathering her hair in a makeshift ponytail.

At this point y/n panties were soaked, she managed to get a little stimulation by grazing her clit on the rough fabric of her jeans, making her hum in delight around his cock. She brings her other hand down to his balls, rolling them in her palm. She then comes off his cock with a pop, taking one of his balls into her mouth instead, changing between the two all whilst tugging his cock.

‘M’gonna cum if you keep doing that’ his legs starting to shake around her

‘Well that was my aim, baby’

‘wanna have you wrapped around me when I cum, please angel’ he whimpered

And with that y/n was already unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs, because how could she say no to him, her clit was starting to throb aswell, she smiled knowing that it wouldn’t take long for them both to cum, she straddles him bringing her lips to his once again, he grabbed hold of one of her tits massaging it before tweaking her nipple making her whimper into his mouth. She becomes desperate pulling away quickly before gripping his shaft and lining him up with her entrance, sinking down onto him with ease because of how wet she was. They both let out prolonged moans, loving the feeling of being wrapped around each other ‘pussys so fucking tight, s’like you were made for me’ he moans out, ‘think your cock was made for me too baby boy, stretches me out soo good’ placing both hands on his chest, she whimpers slowly lifting herself up before going back down, making a slow pace. They were moaning in unison the only sound in the room, and small whimpers of ‘baby’ and ‘angel.’ y/n brings her hand down to her clit starting to make small circles, knowing she wouldn’t need much to topple over she was amazed at how fast her orgasm was creeping up on her ‘m’gonna cum baby boy, you close’

‘Yes m’so close, your gonna make me cum so hard’ his legs starting to shake again, one of his tell- tale signs.

‘Cum with me baby’ y/n says not holding back anymore, with a few more thrusts and circles to her clit she was cumming, she whimpered the words ‘baby boy’ over and over, that’s when Harry toppled over he felt his cock twitch and with that he was releasing ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of her, he stopped breathing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, toes curling, legs shaking practically screaming profanities. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was gasping for air, a faint ringing in his ears.

Y/n leaned down to his chest kissing a few spots, now utterly exhausted ‘you okay baby’

‘Never cum so hard in my life angel, felt incredible’ he breathes out a lazy smile on his face.

She slowly lifted herself off of him, knowing he would be sensitive before laying down beside him ‘thankyou angel’ he whispers to her

‘What for?’ she asks

‘For making me forget all of my worries, for being my stress reliever, probably would have lost it by now if I didn’t have you’ he says sweetly. ‘I don’t know what I do without you either baby’ she says kissing his lips and then pulling his head to her chest, he nuzzled into her, his long arm draping the duvet over them, before gripping onto her waist.

‘Now go to sleep my beautiful three time Grammy nominated boyfriend, you’ve got a big day tomorrow’

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles imagine #harrystylesisgolden #love harrystyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #fine line #harry styles is an angel #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #stress reliever #hazza styles #harold #sub!harry

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leediavhs · 2 years

Text

Maybe this is a child’s perspective. (Bo Sinclair)

bad writing? on MY tumblr blog? it is, unfortunately, astronomically more likely than you would think. Alexa please play First Love by Mr Min Yoongi. Thank you so much Alexa.

Must disclaim the way I’ve written this is entirely my own interpretation of the character (or at least the character before... y’know... the murderous tendencies.) (which I’d also like to write about but it depends on how this one works out lol). If this isn’t how others see it that’s completely okay :]

(This is based time wise on the opening scene alone because I am not too confident in deciding a different unseen time, so Lester isn’t mentioned here. Sorry bestie m(_ _)m)

Most would argue that the world is confusing for all children, but there is no denying that it is especially confusing for children like Bo.

At first he assumed that all children lived like this, but there came a point where he couldn’t help but notice that despite the fact neither of them really spoke that often through words, it was a failure of his but a virtue of Vincent’s. Vincent was capable of being quiet, but Bo was only ever quiet in disobedience. Apparently. He would never know.

How was he supposed to explain that he could hear his father walking around too loud? He could hear his mother boiling the wax and water in the kitchen too loud. Vincent was eating too loud. The window was open so he could hear the leaves and the birds too loud and HIS shoes were too loud and his clothes were too tight and he can think it but he can’t SPEAK it.

At best his silence will get him an aggressive clip ‘round the ear and a few days of petty insults from his father.

The moment his father approaches him, however, he can physically feel his heart drop to his feet, through the floor and straight to the deepest circle of Hell. Not again. Not now, please not now. Bo wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to be happy again if he was taken to the chair now. He was already crying and unfortunately that was already enough to condemn him to the chair if either of his parents were in a particularly bad mood.

The words went in one ear and out the other because Bo was just... so tired of this routine. The questions come so quickly and the only one his child mind registers was when his father demanded to know ‘what the hell he was cryin’ for?’. The closest thing to an ‘are you okay?’ Bo thinks he’ll ever get.

He opens his mouth desperate for the words he wants to express to come out, but all he manages is a small wail, that which most would expect from a crying child. But in this household, the fact that he didn’t answer the question properly in his ‘fit’ of upset was a sign of disrespect. Misbehaviour.

He begins to scream and cry, hoping so fully that it’ll make his father understand that no, he wasn’t ignoring him, he wasn’t being rude and refusing to speak! Why couldn’t he see how badly Bo wishes he could explain what was wrong, even at the expense of being ridiculed for being ‘sensitive’. Somewhere in his mind he thought it’d be far better to deal with the ridicule than the highchair.

The kicking and louder screaming was reflexive at this point, because much as he knows that it’s his fault (because it’s all always his fault), he’d give absolutely anything to keep his feet on the ground. Could his parents not tell that something was wrong? Or did they simply not care?

For Bo, as a child, for the longest time it was “What am I doing wrong. Please, explain to me. I don’t understand. What else can I do to make you not hate me?”.

After realising that he’d never get an answer, all of a sudden, none of it mattered anymore.

Why should it?

That’s it! I can only apologise so many times! All criticism, constructive or not, is welcome. It’ll help probably. Also if you read it and like it I appreciate that a GREAT deal tyvm. Bye lmfao!

#house of wax 2005 #house of wax #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #horror movies #slashers #house of wax fanfic #ambrose

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stxleslyds · 3 years

Note

It seems like you have a negative opinion on all non-Winick characterizations of Jason in the comics. But do you hate them all equally? Could you rank all non-Winick comic depictions of Jason from best to worst characterization? Or maybe give them a letter grade?

Hi friend! This is a bit funny to me because I really didn’t expect people to be so vocal about me being such an annoying person when it comes to Jason’s characterizations. I can’t promise that I won’t complain anymore but I will try to be kinder.

But I won’t start right now, because I really want to make this ranking, it will go from best to absolute worst! I bet you guys won’t know who is in the deepest circle in hell! Place your bets everyone!

This is the level that gives me joy! (Yup, I put a writer that only wrote ten pages of Jason content as the best, please don’t call me out on it).

Matthew Rosenberg: I love him and I love what he has done with Jason, I have only read ten pages of his work while writing Jason and he already has me hooked. Like I said in that one ask/post, I think he will make some amazing things with the Jason that we have now and I still believe that. Little shit and competent Jason Todd, I am glad you are here.

Peter Tomasi: This one is a little checky because his run is out of comics canon, but his Arkham Knight Jason Todd and the way he wrote his origin are absolutely stunning.

Marv Wolfman: His Robin Jason was really good and I am really glad that we had those comics in which we could see Jason in an environment that didn’t include Batman. I was like looking at what Jason could have been if he had stayed with the Titans’ instead of keep on being Robin in Gotham with Batman.

This is the level in which I can still like some things about the story even though in general I didn’t enjoy the book.

Joshua Williamson: Yeah, but he is only here because his story seemed interesting, my issue as I have said before is his subplot “romance” and the fact that he seems to be the kind of writer that wants to push the “Batfamily” dynamic. Otherwise, his Jason characterization when it came to him not liking working for the Magistrate was really good, sadly it was overshadowed by all the bad that I just really didn’t enjoy at all

Chip Zdarsky: Tyler (Blue Hood) and Jason working to rid Gotham of a drug really brought me back to the good old days. I also really liked seeing the parallels between Jason and his mom with Tyler and his own mother, it felt like a good way to start a connection and develop a Red Hood story. Sadly, the book as a whole was shit and it ended horribly but there were some interesting moments.

Now we are looking at the level where I just wonder: Why?

Paul Dini: Why? His Jason really did a 360, and I meant it, I really don’t know what the point of Jason taking the mantle of another dead Jason was. His Red Robin was just a Red Hood in a different suit and that was that. I understand that they wanted to kill him because he was an anomaly and all that but, he just really felt out of place in that event. This was the first warning: Jason Todd/Red Hood only works on a street-level, stop trying to make everyone dimension jump and all that DC.

Bruce Jones: Hey! I forgot about this guy in the last post! He sucks! And his arc in Nightwing is the epitome of the question: Why? I get it, DiDio wanted to kill Dick and then have Jason take over as Nightwing but Dick didn’t die at the end of Infinite Crisis, he was still alive there was no reason to have Jason dress up as Nightwing and going on a killing spree, also, the tentacles? Really? Annoying and weird.

Scott Snyder and Tim Seeley: I ask why but I know why. This was a desperate attempt to use Jason in stories because they couldn’t use Dick Grayson. It was also weird because being there only pushed him more towards the Bat-Clan even though he had his Outlaws team going on. It was just weird and they were also big on unnecessary “romances”.

This is the Skrull Jason level. Here I see, hear and feel no Jason Todd.

Grant Morrison: Grant needed a villain and all they could come up with was this weird as red-haired-pill-headed-Red Hood and DC said “sure, why not?”. There is no real way to find UtRH Jason in this version of Jason and that for me is a little bit better than still seeing the Jason that I loved in whatever this was.

Tony S. Daniel: This one sucks the most because it isn’t that Jason is unrecognizable its just that Jason is the exact opposite of who he would have become. Everything about this Jason seems to come from the Upside Down. Him saying that Gotham needs Batman so he will be Batman and he needs a Robin was the wildest take that I have seen about Jason. I have no other words for it.

Hell.

James Tynion IV: whoever invited this man to this party needs to understand that they made a big mistake. All Tynion did was overpower the living hell out of Jason for a fight that wasn’t big enough to become a Batman/Red Hood event. The fight was so lame and so stupid, if Jason had learned the ancient martial arts move in the All-Castle and the used that and the All-Blades to defeat Ra’s it would have been more than enough, but in New 52 writers really wanted to make Jason look like the most experienced and best at being a hero when Kory and Roy were standing next to him.

Scott Lobdell: He sucks, New 52 was just terrible, there was nothing that I liked from it, character assassination for everyone, nobody was treated well there. He wrote a self-insert version of Jason and it was noticeable because Jason was trash in New 52. Rebirth was better but that didn’t make things better for Jason because Lobdell started to fuel the “Jason was guilty for his own death” and “Jason was a reckless Robin” narratives and here we are today. Lobdell danced around his own stories, his characterization of Jason and he never gave a fulfilling ending to any of his arcs. Some characters we only saw once some others simply disappeared. Nothing ever truly started or ended when it came to his writing.

Ginnungagap.

Geoff Johns: to him all I will say is: comprate un bosque y perdete.

Thank you for the ask! I had fun doing this! I wish you have an excellent day!

#jason todd #red hood #rhato #dc comics #jasons characterization #asksss

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smuggsy · 3 years

Text

Remember this post about how Riddler dug up Elijah's body and we just... collectively chose to ignore it along with Oswald? 😂

Well. I un-ignored it. With a sad angsty fic.

(You can read it down here as well.) Word count: 2040. Tags: #emotional comfort #established relationship #hence: canon divergence #nightmares

Oswald's used to having nightmares. He's no stranger to sleepless nights, 5-am coffees have become a bit of a recurrent habit to make up for the drowsiness clouding his mind after a particularly difficult dream chimes in without permission and throws his sleeping schedule off — so much that he often finds himself power-napping through the day when Ed isn't around to tell him off for it.

Yes, he's almost grown too accustomed to Hugo Strange's voice narrating all sorts of gruesome scenarios that he ends up carrying out of his own volition, propelled forward by an unknown and invisible force deep inside. He never really sees the Doctor, but he hears him all the time, he's just there all the time. He tells Oswald what to do and Oswald does it without a pinch of remorse. Shoot him. Stab her. Blow them all to pieces, they deserve it.

It's the kind of hell he's used to. He's almost learnt to accept it's never going away. That it's a part of his psyche now, a part of him that will never really go away — because how do you fix a tattered mind? He wouldn't let anyone try, anyway. Not after Arkham.

This night is different. This night he's assaulted by a new kind of terror, almost perfectly calibrated and specially curated for him. Blossoming from the deepest part of his mind where he'd stocked it, never to be revisited.

And it's most cruel for one reason: when he wakes up with a startle he can't bear the thought of those arms wrapping around him and providing comfort like they've done so many times before. In fact, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is untangle himself from Ed's sleeping embrace like it burns him.

Which means he's got no-one but himself to count on, again. No-one to hush him through the aftermath and speak softly in his ear and hum a long-dead melody until he calms down or, if he's lucky, falls back asleep.

"Oswald?"

He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over to catch his breath, and feels Ed shifting position behind him. His partner's voice is clouded with sleep and Oswald can't bring himself to even turn around and reassure him — lie to him. He fears if he turns around he won't see Ed but Riddler. Not Ed's gentle eyes but Riddler's mocking glare. Not a warm comforting smile but a disdainful sneer.

His father, standing on the other side of the bed with a disappointed frown. My boy, how could you steep so low? Do you know where I am? Do you know where he left me?

When Ed's warm fingers brush over his right shoulder Oswald bolts upright with a whine.

"Osw—?"

And he runs to the bathroom and slams the door close behind him, feeling his one-piece nightgown sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" Edward's voice is immediately on the other side, he tries turning the doorknob but Oswald is pinning it closed with his own weight, still unable to brush away the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal that's so suddenly taken hold of him, "Oswald, get off the door."

It's a gentle request.

Oswald might have done it, perhaps, might have considered it, if he hadn't looked right into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and seen Elijah's pale and sickness-stricken face. A dead man's face that makes him shiver.

He shall never have peace, so long as you're with him, Oswald thinks. Some other Oswald. Some other voice that sounds like his but isn't. Can't be.

"Oswald," Ed tries again, and this time he pushes against the door with more conviction, Oswald leans off and turns around to face him when he comes in, to keep him away, Riddler, he's still in there, he's— "oh dear," Ed coos, having one look at him and taking pity instantly. He takes a step forward and Oswald takes a step back.

"No!" he blurts out with a raspy voice. Edward stops dead in his tracks, lost expression for a moment before his shoulders relax again.

"It's okay, Oswald. It was just a nightmare," he adds, softly like so many times before.

"No, it isn't! It wasn't!" Oswald lashes out, hating that he looks at Ed's dishevelled face and concerned caramel eyes and wants him to just get away, his voice comes out just barely, "you did that to him! You— How could you?!"

Ed opens his mouth and doesn't move, clearly taken aback by the accusation even if he fails to comprehend, thrown off by the way Oswald looks at him, stands like that, like a wounded animal, like he might flee if Edward takes another step forward.

He still takes a step forward, though, because he never was really good with physical cues.

"Os, I don't understand wha—"

"Don't touch me!"

Oswald jerks away and hits the wall behind, still shivering despite his burning skin. Edward shows him his palms, a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'm not," he takes a steadying breath in, "I'm staying right here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's not him, I swear! I didn't—"

"Oswald?"

"He's different now! He's not like that anymore!"

Oswald gestures towards Ed, clever, supportive, thoughtful, with his checked blue pyjamas and plaid shirt and lack of glasses and puffy eyes from sleep. Then he looks back at his father now standing by the door and projects the thought: Ed. Not Riddler!

But Elijah shakes his head and purses his lips, looking him up and down like he doesn't approve and Oswald just needs him to understand.

"It's not hiiiiim!"

"Oswald, this is starting to become very unsettling."

Edward looks around, to his right, there. To where Oswald's looking, to nothing. He knows that deranged gaze, he's seen it countless times before, he's stood in front of the mirror a lot of times and seen it on himself.

"Os, it's just those new painkillers making you groggy, okay? It's a much heavier dose than the one you're used to. Whatever you're seeing," Edward chances a slow step forward and Oswald finally turns his head back to him, with glassy eyes and tears on his eyelashes and still looking like he'll run away, "it's not there, Oswald. I am here."

Oswald stares at him for a few more silent moments with a lost expression, mouth open and still bracing himself with one hand on the cold tiles behind and the other on the sink.

"You're not... you're not him, I try to— I tell him you're not," he babbles, looking feverish and lost.

That's when the penny drops for Edward. It feels like a stab to the heart, that broken voice, the trembling hands, the quivering lips, the whole sight of an Oswald so distressed he won't even let him get close enough to soothe him.

"No," Ed says softly, his own voice failing him for a moment, shaking his head and taking yet another step closer, "no," he repeats breathless, "I'm not. Please. Come here."

He reaches an offering hand and Oswald slowly looks down as if weighing his options. As if making sure this isn't a trick — which, well. If he's thinking of Riddler, he can hardly be blamed for exercising caution, Ed admits. It hurts him to admit it. To know he's caused this, one way or another. Painkillers or not. This raw incoherent fear is coming from somewhere, however small the flame that ignited it might be, and he can't fix it because Oswald won't stop trembling like a leaf and recoiling.

"Oswald, please," he begs, voice finally breaking and eloquence escaping him, retrieving his outstretched hand and rubbing fingers over his burning eyelids because if he breaks down too... "please, it's me, Ed, just Ed."

He doesn't know what to do. He's on the verge of blurting out apologies when he opens his eyes to Oswald latching onto him with one of those desperate hugs. Ed wraps his arms around him instantly, a reflex, feeling like he's just come back to life.

"Go away," Oswald says, sobs with his face buried in the crook of his neck and starts crying. Edward tightens his hold and hides his own tears in the other man's raven locks, understands he's not the one being spoken to, "go, please. I won't leave him!"

Edward can barely understand the string of pleas when Oswald's clutching onto him so firmly his words come out muffled and nearly intelligible. Either way, he's not about to ask who's there — better not add salt to the wound. Not feed the horror, lest it become a recurrent thing. He needs him to understand this is a figment of his imagination if he's not aware already.

"Shhhh, it's all good," he keeps Oswald in place with an arm around his waist and brings the other one to gently pet his hair, "it's o-kay, Oswald. I'm here, it's just you and me."

Oswald nods against his chest but he can't seem to bring himself to stop crying. Edward rubs circles on his back.

"Just you and me," he repeats, striving for a soothing voice and feeling it waver ever so slightly.

They stay like that for a whole five minutes until Oswald finally leans back, sniffs and looks up with red eyes and a self-deprecating comment on his lips that Ed doesn't let him voice out.

"Come on, it's freezing out here."

Ed guides him back under the covers and tucks him in, Oswald watches his every move like an overcurious child. That cloudy expression is gone, though, and Ed can't help but let out a sigh of relief at having him back. He looks drained but sober.

Mostly sober.

His eyes still dart around with a nervous air but he doesn't seem to find his demon anywhere. When Ed climbs back up on the bed Oswald immediately shifts closer and hides his face in his shirt again.

"I'm sorry, that—"

"No-uh-uh," Ed cuts in, brushing a strand of hair off his green doe eyes and feeling an almost compulsive need to plant a kiss on the now-red tip of his nose, "say no more."

Oswald purses his lips and shuffles even closer, pressing his flush body so firmly against Ed's that they can't exactly see each other's faces anymore.

"Can you...?"

"Yes I can."

And that's that. He settles his chin on top of Oswald's head and starts humming; content to sidestep the issue just for now but unable to brush aside the sour taste of guilt filling almost every corner of his mind.

He starts rubbing circles on Oswald's back and doesn't stop the melody until he feels the other man's hold loosen up and his breath change into a normal and peaceful pace. Only then does Edward slowly extract himself from the embrace, far enough that he can look at Oswald's face.

Red and wet and troubled, still. He reaches over and soothes the lines on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Os," he breathes out.

He's used to Oswald having nightmares. He wakes up all heaving breaths and uncertain hands latching onto anything that's near for comfort, for safety or reassurance. Ed is always there to provide either one, wrap his arms around his shaking form and listen to him if he wants to talk. Make him a cup of tea or play soft tunes on the piano if sleep doesn't return.

Oswald's always been needy like that.

Having him wake up and frantically keep himself away, recoil from his touch and excuse himself to a third party only he can see... that's a first.

And it's terrifying.

Because He made that happen. Because Oswald's grown to be too dependant and Ed's grown to be his anchor in moments like these and if he can't even be that... then what can he be? What's left for him to be, besides the clear instigator?

Ed closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, focusing on the sound of Oswald's breathing and on the touch of his cold feet and the smell of cherry-scented hair conditioner. He relishes in the familiarity of the hold and shakes the darker thoughts away.

Perhaps he's become a bit dependant himself.

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Note

prompt request for part 2 of your utm fic? pretty please? :)

NONNIE I ALMOST SAID NO hahaha honestly @asteria-of-mars is cooking up some WILD dark!Rhys and if you're looking to not know if you're turned on or horrified I can recommend her fic Undone. She is better at this than me. But okay I'll give this a little whirl just for you, because your please was so pretty.

Fuck You, Feyre Darling Pt 2 (Mercy)

Read Part 1

Guilty.

That's all that was swirling around in my head for the next two days: guilty, guilty, guilty. I was a bad person, I was a cheater, I was so full of shame I could have choked on it.

But then Rhysand appeared in the same corner of my cell that he always did, and I had a better idea of where to place my anger.

"You fucking prick," I spat at him. He just raised his eyebrows.

"Dear me," he said. "And just what have I done to raise your ire today?"

"You made me cheat on Tamlin," I said, knowing full well that was neither true nor fair.

"I didn't," Rhys said mildly, flicking a speck of lint off his lapel.

"You did," I snapped. I stepped up to him. "You and your fucking mind tricks." My chin jerked up to stare into his eyes. Most powerful High Lord in all of Prythian? I didn't give a damn.

"I assure you, I don't need mind tricks to coax females into my bed," Rhys said, and his unaffected air was infuriating.

"You forced me," I ground out. "Admit it."

"Admit something that's not true?"

"Admit it!"

"Why Feyre?"

"Because!" I yelled. "If I wanted it then I'm a terrible person and I'm here in this horrible place to save Tamlin only to find that I don't deserve him anyway." My voice broke on the last word, and to my horror, a sob cracked in my chest.

Not again, I thought. I couldn't bear the thought of breaking down in front of Rhys, not again. He already had so much of me.

But Rhys just stood there a moment, with his hands in his pockets. Then he said, "Fine," and then the world blurred and we were back in his room.

Rhys pushed me back onto the bed, and I fell, startled.

"So what, Feyre?" he asked. I realised with shock that he was angry. "What do you want?"

Despite the darkness of the room, his violet eyes seemed to glow brighter than ever.

"Do you want me to have forced you, so you don't have to feel guilty? Or do you want to be forced because you deserve to be punished?"

Rhys pulled his jacket off and threw it onto a chair by the wall. I shrank back against the headboard, suddenly nervous.

"Because see now, I may be a whore but I'll not have some mortal questioning my honour." He knelt up on the bed in front of me, and rolled up his sleeves.

"However, if you were after a punishment," he paused, and removed his belt to fold it in his hand. Then he gave me a grin that was all teeth and no smile at all. "You only had to ask."

The anger still coiled in his voice, and now, now I was scared of him.

I didn't know what I was expecting- I had goaded him, but not thought through what would happen next. And now here we were, back in his room, and I couldn't tell where my fear stopped and my anticipation began.

What I did know is that the heaviness of the shame in my limbs had been replaced by adrenaline and that was a trade I was only too happy to make.

"Well?" Rhys demanded. "Is the cruel little creature here to repent for her sins?

And Cauldron damn me to the deepest depths of hell, my lips parted and I whispered, "yes."

"Good," Rhys snarled, and then quick as lightning he had grabbed my ankle and jerked me back down the bed. Disappeared my clothes by magic, rolled me over onto my stomach, where I tried to drag myself away with my hands but he yanked me back by the hips and slapped me hard across the ass.

I gasped, as pain burst before my eyes. I forgot everything, I knew nothing at all expect for the flash of sensation, and then a flooding peace. Yes. This is what I deserved. Rhys buckled his belt around my ankles.

"Is this what you wanted?" Rhys hissed in my ear. I hadn't noticed him moving closer.

"Yes," I whispered. Rhys spanked me a second time, and that white hot flash popped in my vision again.

"Is this what you needed, you wicked mortal thing?"

"Yes," I said again, and it came out as a moan.

"Beg me," Rhys commanded. He landed three more stinging slaps, and I couldn't help but gasp at each one. "Beg me for mercy."

He smacked me once more, and leaned down to my ear again. "Beg me, and I will deny you."

And I would never know how to admit this out loud, not to Rhys, not to Tamlin, not to anyone. But it was exactly what I craved.

So I pushed my hips up toward Rhys, turned my face to the side, and breathed, "Mercy."

"No," Rhys replied coldly, and then I was spanked on the top of my ass, on the join to my thigh on either side, and then once right over my bare pussy.

The shock of the last had my fingers curling in the sheets. It was so unexpected that at first my legs clenched together automatically- but then as the pain faded it was replaced by a spreading heat and my muscles relaxed completely.

The next touch was a rub of his hand over my reddened backside and down between my legs, and where he had slapped me my skin was so sensitive I shook hard under his fingers.

"And now what, Feyre darling?" Rhys asked. His voice was low and dangerous. I rode the edge of pain and fear and pleasure, and couldn't form words. When Rhys stroked his hand down me again, I realised I was thoroughly wet from being spanked.

"Do you need to be fucked now?" he crooned.

"Yes," I said, and even though he wasn't touching me at all now, my breaths came in pants.

"Do you need to be pounded so hard it feels like you're not in control?" Rhys asked me.

"Yes," I repeated, not able to say any more than that for the shame of it.

"Beg me again," Rhys said.

"Please," I whimpered. "Mercy."

Rhys's fingers slipped back between my legs, finding my clit and rubbing tight, fast circles into it. My hips bucked at the suddenness of the motion, and then the pleasure began to pool. I wanted to push my knees apart on the bed to get closer to his touch, but his belt still bound by ankles together. I arched my back instead, and Rhys's steady rhythm had me careening toward my orgasm faster than I thought possible.

"Rhys," I moaned.

"Yes Feyre?" he said. "Are you going to come?"

"Yes, oh gods, yes," I said, and my toes curled as my climax crested-

And then Rhys pulled his hand away and slapped me across the backside instead.

I let out a frustrated groan, and Rhys purred, "Again."

It took me a moment to figure out what he wanted. Then, "please," I begged. "Mercy."

Rhys's fingers returned, but this time he was sliding them into me and moving infuriatingly slowly. I rocked my hips back and forth on his hand, trying to build his pace. It was almost enough.

"Please," I said again. Breathlessly. Desperately. "Please."

Rhys's fingers sped up and curled to that spot inside me, and then I was chasing my climax again. My head spun, then buzzed as I found-

Nothing. Rhys's fingers slipped out of me and I was spanked again, on the other side, and hot tears sprang to my eyes. A combination of the sudden pain and the sharper frustration.

"Please Rhys!" I cried out. "Please, please, mercy, please."

Rhys's voice in my ear, one more time. "Do you deserve it?" he asked. "Do you deserve pleasure?"

"No," I whispered.

"That's right," he replied. And then sank his cock deep inside me nonetheless.

Rhys was not gentle, Rhys did not give me time to acclimatise. Just pushed inside my already soaking pussy and fucked me hard with my ankles tied the entire time. As wound up as I was, he had barely gotten started when my orgasm slammed into me. I came soundlessly on his cock, tears blocking my throat, my lips mouthing his name into the sheets.

Once my high had subsided, Rhys pulled out, removed the belt from my ankles, and turned my over on my back. I was so wrung out I barely registered the movement. And then with a shocking gentleness, he came back to me. Pulled my legs around his waist and slid inside me again- but this time moved with a rolling consistency that had me building up again, coasting on the brink of pleasure rather than screaming toward it, and when this orgasm came I was in the middle of it before I had known it'd begun.

My back arched up into Rhys's arms and he pressed kisses down my sternum as I came, and then just when I thought I'd start coming down his hips got faster and his own release triggered a new wave for me, too. I held on to him as he shuddered into me, and it wasn't until he had rolled onto his back and pulled me into his chest that I realised he had stopped punishing me.

"Rhys?" I asked softly.

"Mm?"

"Am I a bad person?"

Rhys sighed into the dark, and when he spoke he did not sound like his usual, arrogant self. He just sounded tired.

"No Feyre," he said, "you're not a bad person."

"I'm betraying someone I love," I argued.

"We're Under the Mountain, now," Rhys said. "We're only just surviving. And here, that is enough.”

We lay there for a while longer, until I thought I could almost fall asleep there in the High Lord's arms. What an absurd thought.

"I'm ready to go back to my cell now," I whispered.

"In the morning," was all Rhys said, and then he turned us and tugged me back against his chest facing away from him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I gave in. After all, there would be plenty of time to feel bad about it all if we survived at all. And maybe that was a mercy I could grant myself.

****

Eeee stop making me go UTM anons, it's toooo sad I'm gonna leave this dark edgy shit to Liz now and go back to my palace of fluff 🥺🥺

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

#asks #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #smut #angst #mine #am I doing it?#am I writing dark!rhys now?

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irisofpurple · 3 years

Text

Good Girl

Summary: What happens when Lana comes home to Ethan, fashionably late after a girls night?

Book: Open Heart Book 3 (post ending)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey×f!MC (Lana Stevens)

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings/Rating: Smut, Swearing, NSFW; Explicit.

A/N: This is pure filth and nothing but filth. A self indulgent produce of my very Scorpio brain and the smuttiest fic I've ever written. I'm not exactly sorry but you've been warned jskssjjkkhhssk. It follows up after New Look, which was my first ever Pictagram edit. I suppose you can still read this if you missed that though. Hope you enjoy reading!

This work is NSFW and meant for 18+ readers only. Please use discretion.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

A rush of giddy excitement hit her as she turned the keys to his apartment, making her stumble slightly at the doorstep as she entered.

Alcohol from the countless shots Jackie made them do was still hot and pumping through her veins. In her drunken haze, Sienna had actually convinced her to keep the wig on.

She adjusted it slightly before she realised she'd stepped into pin drop silence, the moonlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows the only source of light cutting through the darkness.

A quick glance at her watch told her it was 2:30 AM. Way past Ethan's bedtime.

Her stomach dropped. The girls night had went on longer than she'd anticipated. They'd gotten a bit carried away between gossiping and drinking to new beginnings. It had been a while since they'd had a relaxing night as this after all.

As fun as that was, what Lana was really looking forward to tonight was seeing Ethan. All that teasing had made her as hot as she'd hoped to have made him. She wanted to leave right then but it wouldn't have been fair to her friends.

Her shoulders slumped. It was no use now.

She turned head into the bedroom, the knowledge that she'd find him peacefully asleep making her heart sink a little.

"You're late."

The familiar rumble of his voice echoed through the room, making her gasp in surprise and turn back around.

There he was. Sitting at the bar with a glass of scotch nestled in his hand.

Her heart jumped in her throat, a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through her, renewing her excitement even more than before.

The contrasting shadows and moonlight highlighted his already sharp jawline, making him look more beautiful than ever.

Slowly, he rose from his seat, drawing nearer to her, his dark predatory gaze never leaving her. She wasn't able to look away either, her belly clenching with anticipation with every step he took.

She shivered as he ran his fingers though the red hair, his blue eyes going the deepest shade of sapphire possible.

"You're still wearing it, I see." he muttered darkly, a dangerous edge to his voice.

A slow smirk spread across her face. She knew no joy like seeing Ethan Ramsey tethering on the edge in a struggle for control.

And she'd make sure he fell over tonight.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep." she said, feigning nonchalance, pointedly ignoring his observation.

In a sudden movement, he pulled her hand by the wrist to the front of his pants, making her feel his hardness though the fabric.

"Do you know how hard it is to sleep like this?" He said through gritted teeth.

Lana was unfazed. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she stared right back into those celestial blues.

"I can only imagine." She murmured huskily as her fingers caressed him ever so slightly, confidence oozing through her as he twitched violently at her touch.

He pulled her hand away and onto his chest, having realized that his move had backfired.

"You made me wait." He accused, his rebellious gaze dropping to her lips.

"I think I know exactly how to make up for it." Lana said with coquettish smirk.

She captured his lips soon after, not letting him a chance to say anything more. Her hands travelled down to palm his bulge once more, making him groan against her lips. Tongues tangled in a desperate battle for dominance, their need for each other assuming more importance than air for a few breathless moments.

Lana pushed him onto the couch, looking down at him with a devilish smile as she pulled off her wig, shaking free her natural blonde curls. They fell around her shoulders gracefully as Ethan watched her with an awestruck look on his face, all traces of resistance gone. She took off her top next, taking delight in his sharp intake of breath as her breasts spilled free before his reverent eyes, following to straddle his lap and continue kissing him with abandon.

Her lips trailed down the corded muscles of his neck, sucking and biting as she goes. Ethan's hands meanwhile were firmly gripping her waist, another one inching underneath her skirt, closer and closer to her soaked core.

But she wouldn't let him get there. Not yet.

His shirt flew across the living room in a matter of seconds and then she on her knees before him, her lips having left a wet trail of kisses all over his chest and abs.

She unbuckled his belt with deft fingers, pulling down the redundant material of his trousers. His cock sprung free, jutting out in all it's glory, demanding immediate attention.

Her delicate fingers gripped him firmly, pumping him a few times torturously.

"Lana.." Ethan groaned helplessly.

She gave him a smile that she knew he found devastating.

"Feel free to pull my hair." she said as she moved to give a long luscious lick along his length.

Her blood red lips were wrapped around his cock the next second, causing Ethan's hips to buck up involuntarily. His fingers tangled in her hair, making her hum around him in satisfaction.

She was on her knees but the one surrendering was Ethan, completely at her mercy. That knowledge was as beholding as it was empowering.

She sank down the length of him, hollowing out her cheeks, relishing every grunt and moan that escaped his throat as she took him deeper into her own.

She repeated the motion, working him up, not letting the involuntary gags or tears brimming in her eyes stop her from taking him where she wanted.

Keeping eye contact, she realised him with a dizzying pop only to suck on his heavy balls till they were as wet as his now glistening cock.

The look of sheer adoration mixed with lust and frustration on his face had to the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed. It made her own folds drip with arousal.

Her tongue flicked across the slit of his tip, before her warm mouth engulfed him once more to bob down his steely length with determination, taking him all the way in.

"Sweetheart, you're going to make me.. FUCKK!"

His grip on her hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. It only served to excite her more. She didn't let up till he emptied himself down her throat, cursing as he shook and came like never before.

She licked him clean, not leaving a single drop.

She felt breathless and a little punch drunk as he pulled her up and into his arms, kissing her tenderly, softly caressing her cheek and wiping away the tears.

He pulled back to look at her, concern etching his handsome face. "Are you okay?"

She laughed. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He seemed satisfied with her answer because the look of worry gave way to a roguish smirk.

"Just needed to be sure cause I'm not done with you yet."

"Wha-"

"Shhh." He silenced her with his fingers. "You had your way with me, didn't you? Now it's my turn."

"But.." her query died in a moan as Ethan's fingers found her dripping core.

"Damn." He hissed. "How are you already so wet?"

Lana was in no shape to answer because his thumb was working her clit in maddening circles, excruciating pleasure rippling through her as two fingers curled into her slick passage.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as his skillful fingers moved over her with precision and expertise, over and over again. Just when she was about to reach her peak however, he ceased all movements.

Lana cried out in disappointment from the sudden loss of sensations.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him in frustration.

Ethan only smiled. "You didn't think I'd let you get away with all that teasing so fast, did you?"

"What do you-"

"Hush, my darling. I said it was my turn. You made me wait for you all evening. Now close your eyes."

"But-"

"No arguments." He said firmly.

Lana hesitantly shut her eyes, the ache between her legs getting unbearable with each passing second.

"Good girl." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Don't move an inch and keep your eyes shut. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" she cried. "You can't leave me like this."

"Don't you trust me, my love?" He chastened.

Lana gulped. "I do but.."

"No buts then. I promise I'll make it worth your while but no cheating or this ends here."

"No!" Lana shook her head. "I'll do as you say."

"That's my girl."

She heard his footsteps fade away as she struggled to stay still. She was tempted to take a peek and more anything else, touch herself and soothe the throb between her legs. She could get off so easily right now.

But she didn't dare disobey. The wait and build up made her wetter and more turned on than she'd ever been.

Her breath came in shallow pants as she waited and by the time he was back, she felt like one touch would be enough to make her explode.

He secured a silky fabric across her eyes and she heard a low click of glass on the surface of the table.

What the hell was that?

Her heart pounded in her chest and her sex clenched in anticipation.

"Hands above your head and don't move. Or I'll have to tie you up."

She nodded eagerly, following his instructions. "Please Ethan."

He chuckled. "Patience, my love. If there's anything I learnt tonight, it's that waiting makes everything better."

She gasped as she felt his lips on her inner thighs, his beard deliciously scraping her skin as he kissed her everywhere but where she needed him most. It was too much but not enough.

His fingers hooked around the lace of her panties. "As pretty as these are, they have to go."

A loud rip followed, tearing through the room and informing her that her panties were definitely in shreds.

"That was.." she choked out, almost in alarm, unable to finish her sentence. But Ethan seemed to understand her concern.

"I'll buy you more." He grunted.

She felt warm liquid slosh onto her chest, flowing down slowly between the valley of her breasts and down her belly, making her entire body tingle.

Her back arched as the flow inched closer to her pulsing core. She moaned out loud as it finally reached it's destination, suddenly cooling her hot sex.

Ethan's mouth closed on her clit before she could process what was going on.

"Ethannn" She cried out.

She didn't recognize the feline noises escaping her, gasping and moaning for her life as she climbed higher and higher with each masterful stroke of his tongue.

"God. I thought scotch was best had neat. I was wrong. So wrong." He muttered against her sex.

The low rumble vibrated through her body and as soon as his fingers joined the ministrations of his mouth, Lana catapulted over the edge, fireworks exploding behind her eyes and blinding her with hot white pleasure as she came all over his face harder than ever. He didn't stop till all the aftershocks rocking her subsided, letting her ride out her orgasm.

He removed her blindfold and pulled her into his arms, gently kissing the top of her head as she hugged him feebly.

As she caught her breath, her eyes landed on the expensive half empty bottle of scotch and she laughed. "Scotch and sex? Who would've thought?"

Ethan chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. "Me apparently. How did it feel?"

She buried her face in his chest, feeling her face heat. "You know how I felt. I was pretty vocal about it."

Low masculine laughter rumbled through his chest making her heart squeeze and sex clench, like she didn't just have the best orgasm of her life.

She wasn't embarrassed though because she could feel his rock hard errection against her thigh.

She looked up at him mischievously. "Are we ready for a round two?"

She yelped as he lifted her, her thighs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to their bedroom.

"Always."

Whew! I hope you enjoyed reading that. As usual, I'd love to know what you think. Please forgive the mistakes if there are any. I couldn't proofread due to shortage of time.

Tags: @lem-20 @pixie88 @aleynareads @maurine07 @whimsicallywayward15 @lovingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @txemrn @shewillreadyou @aussieez @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @imaneditorthankyouverymuch @mercury84choices @thegreentwin @adiehardfan @custaroonie @headoverheelsforramsey @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #choices open heart #ethan ramsey × mc #open heart #pixelberry #open heart book 3 #ns*fw #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #play choices

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