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In which you flirt with dilf!jjk men in a bar and they ask for your age (younger reader)
Satoru
“Damn!” He says, wide eyed and disbelieving. Spotting the embarrassed or deadpan look on your face, he quickly apologises. “Sorry, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to be so young.”
You raise a brow. “So you’re saying I look old.”
“Yeah.” Satoru nods, with a child-like gusto unbefitting his age. And when you get up to go, he hurriedly clutches your wrist, pink tinting his cheeks. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. You just look more mature for your age, which now I say that, I realise that totally sounds super creepy. Sorry. Again. Let me buy you a drink and we can get to know each other more?”
“I don’t know…can you handle me, Satoru?”
He grins, feeling something well up in him, and not just his cock. “Don’t you worry about that. I know just how to handle a gorgeous girl like you."
Suguru
He whistles, barely audible under the buzz of the bar. His gentle smile softens his face, ever so slightly marred with age, grey streaks through his hair and crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Are you even old enough to drink, pretty girl?”
You scoff. “Yeah, of course.”
Tracing a finger around the rim of his drink, he eyes you. “And are you old enough to be flaunting your cleavage around a man my age?”
“I’m not flaunting anything, mister. You’re just looking.”
“You got me there.” Suguru chuckles, doing nothing to hide the way his gaze skims down your body and up your skirt. “If you’d let me, I’d be honoured to look some more.”
Choso
“You’re the same age as Yuji!” His smile is bright, a sharp contrast to his dark clothes and tattoos. Despite the greys in his hair, he maintains a youthful glee in his expressions. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t let etiquette get in the way of expressing himself. Not even when the realisation sinks in and his smile drops. “Oh…you’re probably better off with him, actually.”
You shrug. “I don’t want Yuji. I want you.”
Choso gulps, overwhelmed with the sight of your tight dress and tighter body. Even the very scent of you, sweet and ripe, has his mouthwatering in a way he knows it shouldn’t. “Are you sure? I won’t be able to…um…keep up with you.”
His lashes flutter close when you run a nail down his pale cheek. “Don’t you worry about that. Just leave it all up to me.”
Toji
“Two thousand and?” He huffs, disbelief and amazement blending together. “Jesus. Didn’t even know people could be born after the 90s. Fuck. You’re legal though, right? You’re in your twenties?”
You nod, nails tapping on the glass of your beer bottle nervously. “Yeah.”
“You’re not gonna cling to me and think we’re gonna get married? And you’re not a virgin or sum shit?”
Heat rises to your cheeks and, defensively, you say, “No, of course not. I’m not some idiot. I know what I’m getting into.”
Taking a swig of his drink, he snorts. “Thank fuck. Alright, that’s enough for me. Where do you wanna do this? Backseat of my car? Alleyway? A motel?”
“Uh, can’t we go to your place?”
Toji fixes you a look then rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Come on then, kiddo.”
Kento
His brow rises. He checks his watch. “You’re too young for me, though I am flattered by your attention. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m not too young.” You grab his arm, fighting the urge to cower from his cold gaze. The flirtatious smiles he had given you, the heated looks, are all gone. Before, he looked like a daddy. Now, he looks like your father. “I’m an adult.”
Nanami shakes his head. “That may be so, but you’re far too young to have any kind of relationship with a man like me. Trust me, it’s for your own good.”
“Listen, Kento,” you begin, “I’m going to lose my virginity tonight, whether it's with you or not. But I really hope it's with you. Don’t you want to make sure I’m taken care of? That I’m given the attention and gentleness I deserve? What if someone takes advantage of–”
“Enough.”
You slump on his arm in defeat, cheek nuzzling the fabric of his blazer and feeling thoroughly told off. He was the perfect guy — tall, handsome, and a gentleman. Who else could be better?
Chin pinched and head tilted back, he forces you to look up at him. There’s tension in his face, like his morality is fighting with his rationality. His words come out gritted and scolding. “For your first time, I will be gentle, I will be patient and kind, but after that, I will have expected you to learn how to behave, to know what pleases me. Do not disappoint me.”
Sukuna
He scoffs. “You’re a fucking baby. What the hell are you doing walking around here flaunting your ass?”
“I’m not a baby. I’m grown. I can do what I want. Are you fucking me or not?”
Even from afar, you could tell he was a dangerous sort. Something about how he sat, thick legs spread with no shame, in the back corner, how people steered clear of him and he did nothing but watch. Despite that, you were drawn to his maturity, the way his hands didn’t shake as he gulped down his scotch or whatever he was drinking, and how he held your gaze as you approached. He wasn’t like the bumbling boys or leering old geezers. He was a man. A scary but hot as hell man.
Sukuna runs his eyes down your body, assessing, judging, tasting. When they come back up again, meeting yours, the corners of his lips tilts up. “Yeah. I can have some fun with you.”
You smile with relief.
“But if you start cuddling me after, I’m throwing you out naked and shivering. Got it, brat?”
you’re trying to fold laundry, a mountain of his black shirts and your softer things, and he’s being a pest. a large, immovable pest. he’s leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, just watching you with that lazy, heavy-lidded gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. you’re already stressed from the day, the damn grocery delivery was wrong again, and his mere presence, so calm and amused, is grating. "could you not?" you snap, not looking at him, aggressively shaking out one of his shirts. "you’re just standing there, it’s creepy." his smirk only widens. he pushes off the doorframe and comes to stand behind you, his chest to your back, his big hands sliding around your waist. you stiffen, still annoyed. "toji, i’m busy." he just hums, nuzzling into the space behind your ear, his stubble scratchy. "know you are, sweetheart. just watchin’ my wife work. ain’t a crime, is it?" you elbow him lightly, but he doesn’t budge, just chuckles, a low rumble against your spine. he loves this, loves the way your irritation makes you all sharp edges and fire. he’ll stand there and take your little jabs all day, just to feel the heat coming off you.
another happens in the car, after some stupid fundraiser thing he was forced to attend. you’re fuming in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window at the blurring city lights. "i can’t believe you," you seethe, your voice tight. "you spent the entire night by the buffet, shoveling crab puffs into your mouth like you’d never eaten before. i was talking to the satoru’s wife and you just made that gross grunting noise when i introduced you." he’s driving one-handed, the other resting on the wheel, looking utterly pleased with himself. "was hungry," he says simply, like that explains everything. "and that woman talks too much, my grunt said more than her entire speech." you whirl on him. "you are impossible, you freak!" he just glances over, that infuriating, fond glint in his eye. "your freak, baby." and damn him, because he is. he loves the way your anger makes your eyes flash, the way you get all worked up over things he considers trivial. it’s a world he’ll never quite understand, and he adores watching you navigate it, even if you’re navigating it right onto his head.
then there’s the real fights. the ones that aren’t about crab puffs or laundry. the ones where real, genuine hurt is involved. you’re crying, and you’re angry that you’re crying, and you’re yelling, and he’s just… taking it. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head down, listening to every word. he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to defend himself. because this? this is different. this is your heart laid bare, and the anger is just the wrapper for the pain. and he loves that, too, in a much deeper, more fucked up way. he loves that you trust him enough to show him the raw, ugly, real parts. that you know he can take it. that you know he’ll still be there after, to pick up the pieces he probably broke. when your voice finally cracks and the fight drains out of you, leaving you shaky, he’ll finally move. he’ll pull you into his lap, your face against his neck, and hold you so tight it’s almost painful. "i know," he’ll murmur into your hair, his voice rough. "i’m sorry, wife. i’m so sorry." he’ll sit there and rock you until you’re both calm, worshipping the very anger that he caused.
and oh, when that frustration translates to the bedroom. it’s his absolute favorite. when you shove him back onto the bed, your eyes blazing, and climb into his lap, all that pent-up energy looking for an outlet. "you’re gonna sit there," you command, hands on his chest, "and you’re not gonna move." his grin is pure sin, all sharp canines and dark promise. "yes, ma’am." and then you’re riding him, not for his pleasure, but for yours. taking your stress out on him, using his body to work out every last bit of that mad. your nails dig into his pecs, your hips grind down hard, almost punishing. and he’s in heaven. head thrown back, a guttural groan ripped from his throat as he watches you, all furious and beautiful above him. "that’s it, sweetheart," he’ll rasp, his hands coming to grip your hips, not to guide you, just to feel the force of your movements. "use me, take it all out on me. fuckkk, just like that." he loves being your tool, your stress relief. he loves the possessiveness in your anger, the way you claim him so aggressively.
the morning after a fight, he’s always extra clingy. you’ll be making coffee, still a little quiet, the remnants of last night’s tension a fine mist in the kitchen. he’ll come up behind you, his arms winding around your waist, his face burying in your neck. he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just holds you, breathing you in. "made your coffee extra sweet," he mumbles against your skin, a peace offering. you sigh, leaning back into his solid warmth, the last of your anger melting away. "you’re lucky i love you," you mutter, but there’s no heat left in it. he nuzzles closer, a contented sound in his chest. "the luckiest." he’s whipped, utterly gone for you, and these moments of quiet after the storm are what solidify it for him. he craves the entire cycle—the spark, the explosion, and the calm, tender aftermath that only the two of you share.
it’s the little things, too. when you get mad at a video game and chuck the controller at the couch (never at him, you’re not stupid). he’ll just blink slowly from his spot, stretched out like a big cat, and say, "controller do somethin’ to you, baby?" and when you huff and pout, he’ll reach out and hook a finger in the waistband of your sweats, pulling you down on top of him. you’ll struggle for a minute, all irritated squirms, but he just holds you tighter, laughing into your hair. "my angry little wife," he coos, and it should be condescending but it’s just unbearably fond. he’ll kiss your temple, your cheek, until you stop fighting and go boneless against him. he finds your tiny, everyday frustrations endlessly entertaining and endearing.
and he loves pushing your buttons on purpose, just to see you get that look. he’ll deliberately leave his wet towel on the bed, right on your side. he’ll drink the last of the orange juice and put the empty carton back in the fridge. he’ll come in from a job and track a little dirt on the clean floor. all just to see your nose scrunch up, to hear that indignant little gasp before you start in on him. "toji fushiguro! what is wrong with you?" he’ll just lean against the wall, crossing his arms, a picture of pure masculine satisfaction. "lots of things, wifey. you married ‘em all." he’s baiting you, and you both know it. it’s his fucked-up version of foreplay, his way of ensuring he’ll get that specific brand of fiery attention later. he’s a simple man with complex wants, and the biggest one is you, in any mood, but especially when you’re all his, even in your rage.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: trying to convince your best friend you're not hopelessly in love by pretending you are in a relationshop? bad idea. panicking and kissing the first male in sight? terrible idea.
notes: new series? check. fake dating trope? check. (if you can guess which book this idea is based on, you'll get a kiss and a cookie)
“Please?" Mor pouts before raising her brows and beaming softly. “I swear to you, I could find you someone – like this.” She snaps her fingers, and I sigh, feeling my lips quirk a little even as I struggle not to roll my eyes.
“I don’t want - someone.” Picking up my glass, I frown when I realise that it's empty.
Damn it.
It's Saturday night, and Rita's is vibrating with the thrum of laughter and music. It's the kind that sends warm shivers down your spine, sucking you in when you listen for too long. Fae are dancing, their bodies weaving and winding, laughing and shimmering in the lights.
I haven't been keeping count, but according to Mor, I have not been out with her and the others for over three moons now. In my eyes, it's no reason for an intervention, but Mor thought otherwise and showed up at my apartment unannounced, forcing me to dress up before dragging me out of the door.
Apparently, not having a very important mission the next morning meant I either went willingly or she'd get Cassian to show up on my doorstep and get me.
The thought makes me huff a soft smile, and my eyes flicker over the crowd. I clock Cass over at the bar, flirting with one of the bartenders. Neither Rhys nor Feyre are anywhere to be seen, having disappeared to do the Cauldron knows what, and Azriel –
My heart leaps a little, and I can’t stop my eyes from searching for a tall, lean figure, wings shrouded by shadows and dark, tousled hair -
Blinking and pulling myself together, I quickly drag my gaze away from the crowd - only to find Mor’s already on me.
My heart plummets a little.
The Blonde watches me, and slowly, a gentle crease appears between her brows. For a moment, she seems to hesitate. Then she squints lightly and calls over the noise: “Is it because of him?”
I barely keep myself from wincing.
“You know, I am still trying not to be insulted that you've never told me who it is.” One corner of Mor’s lips twitches in a soft laugh, but her eyes flicker over mine, careful, hesitant, and a little worried.
My heart swells and tightens at the same time.
She is too good. Worried instead of upset that her best friend, who fights her way through brawls and delivers threats with a cheeky smile, has been hopelessly pining after the same male for the better part of a century and refuses to tell her who it is.
But I can’t tell her.
I haven’t told anyone.
Because saying it out loud means admitting to it.
Admitting that I fell, like a fool. Headfirst. Crashed and burned for someone so entirely out of my league, it is almost ridiculous.
As long as I don't tell anyone, I can pretend that I haven't. That it's nothing but a silly infatuation that will eventually fade away.
I nearly grimace.
Hopefully.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I crunch my brows. "Don't worry, that - is all over."
Mor’s eyes flicker over my face, and she looks so obviously not convinced that something tightens in my chest.
“Really. It’s – I’m fine, I'm alright, I’m -”, the more I talk, the deeper the worried crease between Mor’s brows grows, and I feel my breath hitch.
And before I can stop myself, before I can think; just because I simply can't stand the way Mor is staring at me, like it causes her chest to ache knowing I'm in love with someone so hopelessly that I won't even tell her who it is - I blurt out the first thing appearing in my head capable of making that look disappear.
“I’m seeing someone.”
My heart leaps high, and I barely keep my eyes from widening.
Bollocks.
For a moment, Mor and I simply stare at each other, seemingly both in a comical way of neither us quite believing what has just come out of my mouth - though the reasons for that are very different. Then Mor blinks, and the corners of her lips slowly curve upwards into a giddy smile.
“What?”
“I,” I try to stop my eyes from growing even wider, “yes. I mean, it’s - casual, not serious, but -”
I blink again and swallow.
Mor begins to beam brightly.
I want to disappear under the table.
“Oh my Gods; is he here?”Her gaze darts towards the crowd like somehow, she can make out the nonexistent someone in the sea of Fae.
I barely keep myself from wincing.
“I – I don’t – I don’t actually know, but – I’m going to get myself another drink, do you want one –“ Pointing over my shoulder, I'm already sliding out of the booth, barely suppressing the urge to bolt like a deer and instead sending her what I hope is a cheeky smile instead of a terrified look.
Mor nods and beam, and I quickly turn around and feel my heart pang painfully against my ribs as i widen my eyes.
Oh Gods.
♡
My thoughts start racing as soon as I weave my way through the crowd.
What the hell was I thinking?
The little white lie that's meant to soothe Mor’s worries and keep her off my back is doomed to be very short lived, because – there is no one. I am not seeing anybody, because I – am awfully, stupidly in love with someone who is so incredibly out of my league it is almost funny.
I'm not quite sure when the spark has turned into something more. Something that makes my heart thrum at the smallest brush of rough calloused fingers.
I just know that for some cursed reason known only to the Mother herself, it was instant, the little hitch in my heart’s rhythm when Rhys introduced me to the male shrouded in shadows a little over a century ago.
My heart swells and tightens, and I inhale softly and sharply, trying to focus.
This is a disaster. What am I supposed to do now? Act like there is someone?
No, Mor would become suspicious quickly if I didn't actually have anyone to show for.
Make someone pretend with me?
I barely keep myself from snorting a giggle.
What a terrible idea. That would never work; I’ve read enough novels to know that something like that is bound to end in certain disaster.
My eyes flicker over the males scattered all over the wide room, one more exceptionally beautiful than the next, many looking at passing females in interest.
I slow, something churning in my chest as I crunch my nose and swallow.
On the other hand… I am at the one spot in the city where there are more males than I dare to count – given this circumstance, do I really have another choice?
I swallow slowly.
This is an awful idea.
A completely harebrained, ridiculous idea.
But even though I wreck my brain trying to come up with an alternative that is not telling Mor the truth – I can’t find one.
This is my only way out.
Unless I want to go and confess to Mor about my lie, inevitably leading to having to explain the why.
Yes, that is really not an option.
Which means – I have to pick someone. Randomly. And pray to the Mother and the Cauldron and anyone else who is willing to listen that that person won’t mind if I rope them into pretending to be my casual, not serious relationship for the night.
I feel my heart leap against my ribs.
This is by far the worst idea I’ve ever come up with.
Breathing out, I swallow before loosening my shoulders and starting to let my gaze quickly flicker over the crowd.
Alright.
How does one pick a pretend lover?
First step: Rule out those who are obviously taken. Then those which one's instincts mark as a clear No - either because they are staring at the passing females a little too intently, or because are very obviously not interested in females at all.
Which leaves me with quite a lot less options than I have expected.
I swallow harshly.
Gods, maybe there's somebody I vaguely know, who I can just walk up to and say Hello, I really need your help, I have been an idiot, please could you help me so my best friend stops looking at me like I’m causing her the greatest heartbreak in all of history -
My eyes flicker over a male in the crowd, and my heart skips softly, my thoughts stilling.
Because even though I’ve just caught a glimpse at him, looming in the shadows, hair dark and shoulders broad, towering over the crowd - it's enough to realise he seems familiar.
My heart leaps into my throat, and before I can think about it, stop myself with any rational thought, I start pushing forward.
Something begins to thrum against my ribs, stronger and harder with every quick step.
With dignity. Act like this is natural. Maybe hug him and hope he gets the point and plays along; do not loose your composure, do not do or say anything stupid or irrational or -
I catch a glimpse at blonde hair and red lips from the corner of my eye, and my heart jumps into my throat.
And before I can think, before I can hold myself back, my hand darts out to grab the male’s arm and tug him around – and again, the words simply tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I’m really, really sorry, but I need to kiss you,”, I whisper quickly, my hands slipping up over broad shoulders, and before I can stop myself, I pull the male down and stretch to press my lips onto his.
My breath catches.
Oh.
The male's lips are soft and cool. He tastes like ale and honey and something else, something that makes my fingers curl into his shoulders and my body shudder -
Hands, big and rough, close around my sides, just below my ribs, and my heart plummets as I ready myself to be pushed away.
But instead, they tighten. I can feel them flexing, their grip shifting. Then a low sound breaks from the male's throat, and he draws me closer, my chest pressing against his.
My breath hitches, and I slide my hands over his shoulders, bury my fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head, something swelling in my chest as I cling to him. He's tall, so tall he has to dip his head even though I am stretching to meet him. His body feels lean and steady and solid, easily holding up my weight -
Something cool brushes against my back; I suck in a soft breath, and a familiar scent rises into my nose.
My heart leaps painfully, and I still.
I know this scent.
My heart breath catches for another eason entirely, and I feel myself freeze.
Oh no.
Somehow, I manage to draw back, breaking the kiss, my heart pounding when I fall back onto my heels, forcing my eyes to open, my lips tingling and something rising into my throat -
Amber eyes clash with mine, and my eyes widen.
Oh. Shit.
Azriel's staring at me. Even in the dim lights, I can see how strangely hazy his eyes look, slightly unfocused as he blinks slowly. His cheeks seem almost a little flushed, and his lips are standing slightly agape as his throat moves in an absentminded swallow. He's still so close, his scent filling my lungs, his chest pressing against mine, his hands wrapped around my ribs -
The shadowsinger blinks again. Then he opens his mouth.
His impossibly deep voice brushes down my spine like a feather light touch, hoarse and strangely disoriented.
“Did you just kiss me?”
Staring up at him with wide eyes, I try to keep my breathing even, try to fight the rising panic in my chest.
“No…?”
Azriel’s grip shifts. I can see the moment the strange haze in his eyes begins to dissolve. His gaze becomes clearer as it pierces my face, and the muscles in his cheeks shift as I watch the traces of his usual scowl starting to form, the deep crease between his brows and the set in his jaw as shadows rise beyond his wings. His fingers dig into my ribs, and my heart rises into my throat.
Shit, shit, shit -
Quickly, before Azriel can commit murder in a public space or I can do another stupid thing, I slide my hand into his and slip past him, pushing into the crowd and pulling him with me.
If I'm lucky, Mor is watching and thinks we’re going somewhere private.
Which we are.
Only for very a different reason than what she might assume.
Azriel's long, calloused fingers tighten around mine, and I feel my heart swell and plummet at the same time.
Cauldron, he's going to kill me.
♡
Azriel lets me drag him with me until we reach a bench at the Sidra. Since he could just plant his feet and I would not be able to move him even if I threw my whole weight against him, I take it as a tentative sign that he isn’t too mad.
Or maybe he's simply still in shock and he's going to rip me to shreds the second he's recovered.
The river reflects the golden lights of the city and the galaxies high above, the crisp air clearing my head just far enough that when I slow down and turn around to face the shadowsinger, I feel the urge to just sink into the ground in mortification. Or drown myself in the Sidra. Or –
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, feeling my heart leap against my chest. “I am so sorry, I –“ My voice dies.
I have forgotten how tall he is. How much he towers over me, how small he can make me feel by simply dipping his head to look down at me, wings looming, shoulders shrouded in darkness.
His eyes are stormy as they pierce mine, dark and unreadable.
I realise I'm still holding his hand.
Quickly, I slip my fingers out of his, trying to ignore the way the cool air brushes against my skin where seconds before, his rough palm pressed against mine.
Azriel's fingers twitch, then they curl against his palm.
He's probably having to keep himself from strangling me now instead of after my explanation.
I swallow. Then I slowly step back and sink down onto the bench, rubbing my palms over my face.
Gods, this is a nightmare.
"I'm so sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. It was so stupid." I raise my head to look at him, and my heart leaps against my ribs in soft panic. "I didn't mean to, I swear, I just - panicked."
Azriel is still watching me, brows drawing together like a scowl is threatening to form on his face, eyes firmly locked onto mine, and I feel my breath hitch and blink. The pressure around my throat tightens, something in my chest squeezes painfully, and for the third time this night, simply driven by panic I blurt out without thinking: "Mor is onto me about me liking somebody."
Azriel stares at me. His shadows pull inward. A muscle in his jaw shifts, and I shrink a little.
Crap.
Quickly, I start talking.
"I know, that's - a ridiculous reason. But she knows, she knows that I've stupidly, ridiculously fallen, and she's worried, because I have never told her who it is, but I can't," I widen my eyes and raise my shoulders, "but she was trying to convince me to let her set me up, and when I wasn't responding the way she thought I would, she figured that it's because I am still hung up on that person, and while that's stupidly true, I also just really don't want her to set me up, I cannot handle that pressure, but she looked so heartbroken and I couldn't stand it, so I blurted out without thinking that I am seeing somebody, that I'm over -" My eyes meet amber ones, and my voice dies.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I blink, swallowing and mumbling: "Him."
I blink, raising my brows. "But I'm not. I mean, I'm not - seeing anybody, but I needed to convince her that I am, to make her stop looking at me like that." I feel my chest tighten as I raise my shoulders in a helpless shrug. "So I figured I would have to find somebody to help me pretend. And I thought I would pick someone I knew, because they were more likely to play along, but I couldn't find anyone." I blink. "Well, until I saw you." Quickly, I raise my brows. "Except I didn't even realise it was you, because it was dark and full and I was panicking, which is why I didn't just ask you like a sane person would do, but instead just -" Again, my voice dies, and I feel my shoulders sink in desperation when I mumble sheepishly: "Kissed you."
Azriel's jaw shifts, and his stormy eyes flicker over my face.
"I'm so sorry." I exhale and close my eyes, wincing. "I-I'll make it right. I swear. I'll explain to Mor what happened, that there's nothing going on between us, that it was just a stupid mistake." I swallow, rubbing my forehead.
For a moment, there's silence. The Sidra gently laps at the walls of the river bank, the soft waves of the river the only sound in the night. Then Azriel's low voice brushes over my skin, slow and calm.
"Or you don't."
I blink. Then I raise my head.
"What?"
Azriel watches me as he slowly crosses his arms, leaning back against the stone balustrade. His eyes are steady and unreadable. "You could let her believe that what she saw is true." His deep voice is low, rasping over my skin. "Make everyone believe it is."
Something swells in my chest until it feels a little hard to breathe.
With parted lips, I stare at Azriel.
"Why would you do that?" My voice is soft.
Azriel's eyes pierce mine. Then he blinks. "Cass and Rhys have been on me lately. About putting myself out there."
He looks so offended by the sentiment, a soft giggle bursts from my throat before I can stop it.
"Pretending this is real wouldn't just calm Mor, it would also get them off my back - at least for a good while until they have found some other project." Azriel's gaze flickers over mine, steady, calm.
Something starts thrumming against my ribs.
Azriel watches me, shadows curling around his shoulders. "You can say no."
My heart leaps against my ribs.
"No,", I blurt out hastily. Then I blink and hastily add: "I - I mean, yes. Not no. Yes, to that, not no -"
Azriel calls my name, and his deep voice makes me fall quiet with a sheepish wince.
For a second, I'm almost sure I can see the corner of his lips curve. His eyes flicker over my face. Then he lightly raises a brow.
I stare at him, my heart pounding against my ribs.
This is a terrible idea.
A hugely terrible idea.
Cause it's not just pretending to be in a relationship - it's pretending to be with the very male who is the reason I'm in this position in the first place. The one who manages to make my breath hitch with a glance, and my heart leap into my throat with nothing but the ghost of a touch.
It's a sure recipe for disaster, heartbreak and misery.
On the other hand…
What have you got to lose?, a quiet voice in my mind whispers. You've been in love with him for a century. It's not like you can end up having even more feelings for him. Maybe pretending to be with him is finally going to make you understand that it's never going to work. Maybe he's terrible to be with!
I almost huff.
Sure.
My heart squeezes gently.
But maybe this is exactly what I need to finally wake up and get over him.
I exhale and swallow. Then I raise my head. My eyes meet Azriel's, deep and dark and unreadable, and something flutters softly against my ribs.
I can’t remember if I requested this yet because I had the idea but I don’t remember if I sent it. But could I request a smau where y/n texts them that she made a cake for them. (Not for any occasion. she thought it would make them happy) and they’re thankful and appreciative because she doesn’t know they’ve had a rough day and here comes oblivious y/n just being sweet to them for no particular reason. I just think it’d be so wholesome. Especially with the tougher ones like Toji and Sukuna. 🍓🍓🍓🍰🍰🌷🩷💓🥹🥹
Baking the JJK men a cake
Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, smau, wholesome, tooth rotting fluff
An: This was a super cute idea!! I love being sweet to men who have taken lives <3 Also, I finished my finals today so yippee.... I also got a speeding ticket so love that. I lowk wanna cry about it.
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summary: You are Fred & George’s best friend, and meet their mysterious older brother, Charlie, at a product launch at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.
cw: MDNI 18+ smut with basically zero plot. charlie has an absolutely filthy mouth. no war (or light war? idk, everyone is alive)
an: this was supposed to be a casual hook up when I initally planned it, but the dick was so good they fell in love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had a line around the building, hopeful witches and wizards desperate to get a glimpse of the Weasley twin’s newest product. You strolled past them in your mini dress and tights, more than a little chuffed by their jealous glares.
The doors were locked, blocked off with enchanted rope, but when Fred spotted you through the window, he ran to unlock the doors.
“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Georgie, looks who’s here!” Fred slung an arm over your shoulders and ushered you into the store. It was the cleanest you’d ever seen it, with streamers and lights strung everywhere, and a long table loaded with food and drink.
“Y/n!” George shouted, popping up from behind the register. Both of them were dressed in freshly pressed brown suits, looking exceptionally dapper. He came aroud the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you grinned up at them, pride filling your chest. You’d been close with the twins for years, a friendship that started in school and only grew in adulthood, since you worked a few doors down at Honeydukes.
“Come, you have to meet our family!” They ushered you upstairs, where a dozen or so people waited, several faces were familiar, some were not.
“You remember Harry, Ron, and Ginny,” George said, and you greeted them all with a wave.
“And our parents, Molly and Arthur,” Fred continued.
“Oh, y/n! How lovely to see you!” Molly cooed, pulling you into a rib-cracking hug. “My, what a beautiful young lady you’ve grown into.” She pinched you cheek, and heat scorched your face.
“And this is our older brother’s Percy, Charlie, and Bill. And Bill’s wife, Fleur.”
You turned to the trio of men hovering by the bookcases, and nearly tripped over your heels. Percy, you remembered from school, Fleur as well, and Bill was too busy gazing down at her blonde head to glance your way. But Charlie. He stared straight through you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole.
“Pleasure,” Charlie said, his voice honeyed and deep. He was shorter that Percy beside him, but muscular enough that the maroon blazer he wore seemed a little stretched at the shoulders. His white button down shirt beneath it was tailored perfectly to fit across his wide chest and taper at his defined waist. Freckles kissed his cheeks and forehead, his skin a shade tanner than his siblings, though he shared their ginger hair, mid-length and wavy.
“Hello,” you managed, giving him a small smile. But before you could engage further, George whisked you away.
“It’s tiiiime!” Fred shouted, waving his wand, and the doors burst open.
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
As the event raged on, you found yourself drawn to Charlie’s orbit, watching as he mingled with guests and chatted with his family. He seemed to draw a lot of attention, what with his rugged good looks and the fact that he was a dragon trainer. It seemed everyone wanted a sliver of Charlie Weasley’s attention.
So you admired him from a far, and tried to help Fred and George as best you could.
You chatted with customers, explaining the new product the best you could, but you kept feeling the tug of someone’s attention at the nape of your neck, distracting you. When the customer finally moved on, you glanced towards the direction of the feeling, and caught Charlie watching you over the rim of his fire whiskey, ignoring the gentleman attempting to talk to him entirely.
The air froze in your lungs, you heart tripping over itself. His gaze was scorching, and if looks could burn…you were certain your clothes would be rendered to ash.
Desire pooled in your lower belly, heating your blood to an uncomfortable degree. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, you missed George approach.
“Hey, y/n, enjoying yourself?” He asked, offering you a glass of champagne with a candy snitch floating in it.
You accepted with a smile. “I am, thank you. You guys have done an incredible job.”
George beamed, clinking your glasses together before loping off to sell to another customer.
“So, how long have you known my brothers?” A low voice murmured in your ear, and you whirled around, nearly spilling champagne all over Charlie’s front. He caught your elbow with a steady hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Easy, love,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Oh, uh, f-five years? I think,” you stuttered, looking anywhere but his smoldering eyes.
“Then how have we never met? I’d certainly remember you.”
You shrugged a shoulder, taking what you hoped was a casual sip of wine. “Seems you haven’t been paying much attention,” you teased, finally meeting his eyes.
His smirk grew into a soft smile. “What a grave error on my part.”
“Are you in town for the event, or…?” You could feel heat climbing up your neck, but you willed yourself to keep a level head. You knew how to flirt, had done so with plenty of blokes in your time, but none as handsome and disarming as Charlie.
“I thought so, but evidently the Gods had other ideas.”
You knees nearly buckled. “Like?” You coyly tilted your head, allowing your eyes to trail across his broad shoulders, down his chest. Was this guy seriously flirting with you? You knew you weren’t unattractive, but Charlie was…phew.
“Like…” He flushed a little, betraying his suave demeanor, and your heart slipped a little further into his hands. “Meeting the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Ever?” You teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.
“In this life and probably the next.” He took a sip of his whiskey, letting his eyes wander over you the same way yours did him. And based on the way they darkened, his pupils widening just a fraction, he liked what he saw as much as you did.
“Does that line always work for you?”
“Well, considering I’ve never tried it, why don’t you tell me?”
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Charlie slammed the door shut behind you before crowding you against it, his lips colliding with yours. He tasted like whiskey and pumpkin, with a tinge of cigarette smoke that went straight to your head, and you eagerly tangled your tongue with his, pushing his blazer off his shoulders.
“Colloportus,” he murmured against your mouth, and you heard the lock schick into place. He shrugged his blazer off, tossing it somewhere in the dark storage closet, and his hands were on you again, one sliding into your hair, the other on your lower back, drawing you closer.
“Charlie?” You gasped as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his short beard a rough contrast to the suppleness of his kiss.
“Yeah, honey?” he panted, lifting his head to meet your eyes.
“I don’t usually…” you trailed off, nerves suddenly closing your throat.
His hand slid from your hair to cup your cheek, his callouses rough against your heated skin. “Me neither,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “We can do whatever you want, love. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurant in London, or on Dragon-back to the Swiss Alps, or on a cruise ship to the Americas—”
You cut him off with a kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. “And if I want you to fuck me?” you said between pecks, tugging at the roots of his hair.
He smiled and scooped you up by the meat of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your skirt pushed up over your hips. “Then I’ll fuck you as often as ya’ like.” He turned and dropped you onto some kind of work bench, sending the papers and junk flying with a sweep of his arm.
“The twin’s are going to be pissed,” you giggled, leaning back onto the wood so he could continue his previous assault on your neck.
“Fuck ‘em,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbones. His hands gripped your thighs with dizzying strength, the same hands that handled massive, fire-breathing beasts, and spread you open for his hungry gaze. “Seven fucking hells,” he breathed, running his hands down your inner thighs. “You’re perfect.”
In a swift motion, he ripped your tights at the seam, the sound sending a pulse of arousal to your already dripping pussy, a sharp gasp forcing it’s way from your throat. His fingers glided over your wet panties, so delicate compared to the force he’d used heartbeat before.
Your hips lifted slightly, chasing his gentle touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this desperate for someone to touch you, your entire body tuned to his every breath, every twitch of his muscles. He looked so fucking good leaning over you, his previously tidy shirt rumpled, his hair in copper waves around his face, his lips a little red from your fevered kisses.
With his ring finger, her drew your panties to the side, his middle fingers gliding through your slit and circling your clit twice. “Already so wet for me, honey. What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” he purred, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
Your brain couldn’t formulate a response, his touch mind-numbing. Pleasure radiated form his fingers, syrupy and languid, with none of the frenetic energy from before. A moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he coaxed your pussy to bloom for him.
“And such pretty sounds.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve with his free hand, exposing the muscles and veins along his thick forearm. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, large enough to stretch you slightly.
“Fuck, Charlie,” you whined, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could watch him play with you.
“I suppose I shouldn’t stretch this out too long, someone might come looking for us,” he mused. “But I could spend a fucking eternity spoiling this greedy little pussy.” He slipped another finger into you channel, pumping them a few times just to feel your cunt suck him back in. “Would you like that, love?” He tilted your chin up with his free hand, an unspoken request for an answer.
“Y-yes, Charlie. Please,” you panted, stretching up to steal a quick peck. He deepened the kiss, shifting his weight to press you back down onto the desk as his tongue flirted with yours. His hand picked up the pace, fucking you steadily as he devoured your mouth, teeth skating along your swollen flesh before sucking lightly on your tongue.
You don’t know what God blessed him with such a skilled tongue, but you needed to make an offering in thanks stat.
But since you couldn’t do that…
“Charlie?” You asked, reaching around to touch his wrist between your legs.
He immediately stopped, withdrawing his hand completely. “What’s wrong?” He searched your face for signs of discomfort, his brows drawn together.
You pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek before sliding off the desk. He watched you, confused and concerned, then you lowered yourself to your knees and his jaw went slack.
“Honey, you don’t have to—”
“Please, Charlie?” You batted your lashes up at him, tugging lightly on his belt.
“Merlin’s fucking—I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that, sweetheart.”
“Then don’t,” you teased, undoing his belt and zipper. You could see the outline of his cock against his black boxers, thick and throbbing as you glided your fingers over it.
He sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the table with one of his hands. Encouraged, you dragged the flat of your tongue over the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the wetness collecting by the swollen head.
“I must have died in the dragon pit and gone to heaven. My god, woman,” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair to keep it from blocking the sight.
You giggled, licking a few more stripes before reaching up to free him. His cock sprung out, veiny and flushed pink. And, to your absolute shock and delight, even his cock was freckled.
“You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you praised, and his cheeks flushed pink. You laved your tongue along the thickest vein, earning a throaty groan. You sucked the head into your mouth, lapping up the precum pearling from his slit.
Charlie’s head fell back, one of his hands sliding into your hair. He didn’t add any pressure, just held you as you started to suck him, moving a little further down each time. You wrapped your hand around the base, there was no way you’d fit the entire thing in your mouth, and started pumping him, matching the motions with your mouth. His skin was like velvet, soft and smooth, and you loved feeling him pulse against your tongue with every dip of your head.
“You are too damn good at that. So fucking pretty swallowing my cock.” His thumb stroked your cheek while he gazed down at you, stars in his eyes. “You like sucking me off, honey?”
You nodded as best you could, flicking your tongue at the groove just beneath the head. His hips lurched forward, a grunt escaping through his teeth.
“Fuck, sorry, love. I’m trying to stay still for ya’, but feels so fucking good.”
You reached up and guided his hand into your hair, then used it to push your head down, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.
He smirked, his hand fisting in your hair. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He started moving your head along his shaft, rocking his hips in time with the movements. He went easy at first, but as drool began to track down your chin, your eyes rolling back in bliss, he picked up the pace. But he only fucked your mouth for a few, punishing strokes before lifting you off of him. He slammed his mouth to yours, a harsh, hungry kiss that had you seeing stars.
You whined in protest, but he shushed you by lifting you into the air and setting you on the table once more.
“If you thought I wasn’t going to fuck you, you’re mad,” he gruffed, dragging the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips. “That is, if you still want me to?”
“Yes, fuck, now, Charlie. Please.” You spread your legs a little wider for him,
“Anything for you, love.” He leaned down and kissed you again, sliding his cock into your depths at the same time. The feeling of being filled by him bordered on divine, silken and hot. He was stretching you just enough to leave you with that delicious ache between your legs. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the sounds caught up by his tongue parting your lips and caressing yours.
He drew his hips back, agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch of one another, before he slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. It seemed he was at the end of his control, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you hard, jostling the desk beneath you and making the shelves along the walls rock.
“Fuck, Charlie. Feels so good,” you cried, trying and failing to keep yourself quiet as he railed you, every thrust like a lightning strike of pleasure through your body.
“Yeah? You take my cock so well, baby. Wet little pussy squeezing the life outta’ me,” he groaned, his hair tickling your face. “So good f’me, honey. Like you were made for me.”
Your muscles tightened, veering closer and closer to your peak, his praise sending little pulses of bliss your clit.
“You like being praised, baby? Hearing how perfect you are for me? Fuck, I can feel how much you like that, squeezing me so hard.” His hand slipped between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing tight circles over you puffy clit. “Come for me, y/n. I know you can. I want to feel you fall apart around me. That’s a good girl—”
Your cry drowned out his praise as your peak crashed over you, visceral and exquisite. The world vanished, blown apart by the burst of starlight in your chest as you came for him. Pulses of pleasure made your body shake and buck, your eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you through it.
“That’s it, honey. Such a good fucking girl. Merlin, you’re gonna make me come.” He rested on his forearms, braced on either side of your head, hitting an entirely new angle as you came back into your body.
“Charlie,” you whimpered, clinging to him. ”I’ve got ya’, love. Don’t worry. Just a little longer—fuck.” A strangled groan broke from his throat and you felt his cock swell, then kick against your walls, the first hot stream of release painting your insides.
He rested his head on your shoulder as he muscles trembled, his hips pressed flush to yours. You wrapped you arms around his shoulders, still weak from that soul-shaking orgasm. His lips passed over your shoulder, your clavicle, up your neck, before finally ghosting of your lips, soft and breathless.
You remained like that for longer than you probably should have, enraptured with one another. You'd been complete strangers a few hours ago, but this wasn't a hook up akin to a one night stand. This was the reunification of two beings, the re-raveling of a soul tie.
“Y/n,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, your temple. “Y/n, y/n, y/n…” He held you like he'd die if he let go.
“Charlie,” you exhaled, nuzzling behind his ear.
“Can I take you to Romania with me?” He whispered, a joke, you presumed, but there was no humor in his voice.
“I've never seen a dragon before—”
The door knob jiggled, and someone pressed against it, the wood groaning.
“Shit.” Charlie jumped backwards, scrambling to right your dress and smooth your hair.
“Hey, Freddie! This doors locked for some reason.”
“Charlie, your dick,” you snickered while he wiped away a smudge of your lipstick.
“Fuck, right.”
“Alohamor—”
“COLLOPORTUS,” Charlie barked out, snatching his wand from his boot.
“Charlie?” George called, knocking on the door.
Charlie tucked you behind him and undid the spell, peeking the door open. “If you say another word, you're dragon food,” he growled, and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.
“You got a girl in there, mate?” George asked, and you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face.
“George,” Charlie warned.
“Fine, fine. You've got ten minutes before I actually need to get in there.” George knocked once more then strode away, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.
Charlie sagged against the door, exhaling. “I'm sorry, love,” he said, turning to you.
You pecked his cheek. “Don't be sorry, that was the best lay of my life.” You tried to reassure him, despite the curdling sadness in your chest.
A shy smile broke through his serious expression. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “I can only imagine how good it would be when we had all the time in the world,” you murmured against his ear, a shiver rolling down his spine. It was better to leave it like this, flirty, casual, than with whatever…that was.
“I mean, we’ve got ten minutes…”
You patted his chest and slipped out of the door, finding George waiting at the end of the hall, arms crossed.
His jaw dropped. “Y/n!”
Charlie ran out behind you. “I swear to God, George—”
“Are all Weasley's this dramatic?” You closed George's mouth with a finger under his chin.
“Where did—when did—how?” George stuttered, looking back and forth between the two of you.
Charlie smirked, shrugging back on his blazer. “I'll explain when you're older,” Charlie teased. “Would you like a drink, y/n?”
“I'd love one.“ You threaded your arm through his, and together returned to the party.
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed, please check out my published work here.
Smau: pre-relationship texts with modern au!toji, all individual snapshots spanning just over a week
Warning: 18+ mdni, cursing, angsty
Previous parts + Pt 7
๑ sum. ceo of the HPE ( hairy pussy eaters ) club: TOJI FUSHIGURO
content ∿ warnings◞ fem. reader, established relationship, explicit content, foul language, feminine pet names, cunnilingus, reader’s got a bush ( duh ), dirty talk, one pussy spank, mating press, whore used once
wc. 1k
lola’s ☆ note. …..this was supposed to be a drabble 🌚
“no.”
your denial falls on deaf ears, toji’s stout fingers latching onto your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the couch. “babe!” your pitch heightens as you snap your hardcover book shut, swatting his hand with it. toji flinches, letting go of your hips like they were on fire. “the hell?” he shakes his hand dramatically as if trying to propel the pangs right from his bones.
“hmph, serves you right,” you huff, snootiness lacing your tone, tilting your chin high, determined to maintain some semblance of composure. toji exhales a long-suffering huff, resting his cheek against your outstretched inner thigh, indigo irises squinting up at you. “what’s goin’ on, doll?” he murmurs, his voice low, brimming with curiosity. he knows something’s up. you’re never one to turn down the holy trinity— slurps, suckles, and laps —from the man before you. unless, of course, aunt flo makes her rude appearance. but judging by the lack of deserted dove dark chocolate wrappers and your atypical pout, he’s certain your rejection is rooted entirely in something else.
“nothing’s ‘goin’ on’,” you mimic, deflecting with a biting tone. toji’s scarred lips curl into a smirk, his amusement thinly veiled. “yeah? then why am i still talking to you and not your pussy?” seduction drips from his tongue, his hands mapping out the curve of your waist, settling on the plush swell of your hips. You ignore the shiver whizzing up your spine, swallowing back his effect on you. instead, you spit, “keep trying me, and you won’t talk to my pussy again.” a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, deep and unshaken, as if your feeble attempt at a threat only further serves as entertainment for him.
“oh girl, you wouldn’t last a day without my tongue fucking this perfect pussy,” toji emphasized his assertion with a harsh flick to your clothed bundle of nerves, relishing in your startled gasp. cute. as your eyes begin to settle into a sharp glare, it diminishes as toji inflicts another flick to your steadily erecting pearl. “ah!” you cry, savoring the delicious pain his rough touch imposed on your covered sensitivity. toji’s smirk turns cheshire, gazing upon the desire coating your pupils, turning them glossy.
“now hush, and lemme eat,” toji, with the quickness of flash, rips your lacy thong at the seam, flinging the shredded fabric to the side, exposing your hairy cunt to his starving orbs. wait… hair? his raven brow raises, finger pads tenderly spreading your legs, which have snapped shut like a clam. toji’s blown stare zeros in on your bush, the hairs soaked in your tacky essence, curling slightly.
an inferno spreads across your cheeks as the silence stretches on. and right there, barren to the cool air circulating in the shared living room, is why you turned down toji’s unrelenting advances. any titillating verbiage withers on his tongue, the muscle feeling overgrown, overcoming with the feral need to taste you.
“i… i didn’t get a wax this month,” you confess, embarrassment latching onto your tongue, licking each syllable you utter. “so, i get if you—” a thunderous smack! echoes through the room, your body jolting at the sudden, painful sensation descended upon your throbbing nub. as toji pulls his hand back from your pussy, sticky arousal strings create a lewd connection, locking you together.
“don’t talk, woman,” the heel of toji’s palm grounded deeply into your clit, circular motions urging your pedicured toes to curl in the air. “the only girl that should be talkin’ to me, is this whore of a pussy you got here,” toji lowers his handsome face, eye level to the ‘girl’ in question, “spread her f’me,” his sizable hands cup the bends of your knees, pressing the caps into the perky flesh of your tits, ably folding you like clean sheets.
slicing your digit through the crevice of your pussy, parting your unruly pubes, toji’s warm, moistened tongue darts from between his lips, lapping at the slick woven into your short and curlies. as your honeyed nectar tangos with his taste buds, toji curses under his breath, “fuck,” causing erotic butterflies to flutter in your tummy. “toj, ‘s nasty,” you whine, your hips bucking, clinging onto the subtle tickling of your strands brushing your labia. oh, how you’re an inherent contradiction.
“jus’ how i like your pussy,” toji winks, his tongue slithering from your now clean pubes to your stiff button, circling the bud before engulfing the rigid pearl into his hot cavern. toji’s lips encapsulate your clit, sucking fiercely, as his head moves back and forth, back and forth, back and— “fuck! ngh, hah,” you mewled, your manicured phalanges threading into his dark tresses, shifting his hair away from his forehead.
the sheer intensity of his movements floods you, sending your back arching against the couch cushions. a relentless focus burns brightly in his dilated pupils, leaving not a shred of uncertainty— he is by no means finished with you. toji’s thumbs usurp yours, pulling back the skin of your clit, snapping his tongue against the bundle of nerves in quick succession.
“such a g-good fucking t-tongue, shiiit,” you stutter, your voice trembling with insatiable hunger. toji beams at your praise, driving him to devour you with unabashed urgency. from hasty figure eights being precisely drawn, to eager, desire-filled kisses, no part of your sopping heat is left bare by his unabated lust.
it’s too much— he’s too much. your palm presses upon his damp forehead, a faint, desperate effort to push him away as the blissful coil of your climax tightens in your loins. “haah~ wait… tojiii! don’t—” too late. your needy cries fall into an abyss, toji being too far gone to recognize the way your body convulses, your climax hitting you like a freight train. between your melodic chorus of pornographic music and the soft caress of your pubes on his shaven face, there was no way he was going to stop.
as your pussy flutters, akin to wings on a butterfly, toji swiftly inserts two digits into your rapidly pulsating cunt, reveling in the effect he has on your body. separating his lips from your pearl with a wet pop! toji’s perma-smirk is already etched onto his expression. “keep this pussy hairy for me, doll. it tastes better this way.”
Summary: At Starfall, Y/N is searching for Azriel and when she eventually finds him, she is surprised to find him drunker then she had ever seen him before.
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
•••
As Y/N turned, her dress spun around her elegantly. The light blue was a contrast to everyone else’s darker gowns making her stand out within the mass of people. Y/N hadn’t picked the dress she wore, that had been down to her mate. Her mate who she hadn’t seen in a while.
She scanned the room and didn’t see his face in the crowd, nor did she see the shadows that were usually resting calmly upon his shoulders. There was no trace of him.
“Feyre,” Y/N said, catching the attention of the High Lady.
Feyre stepped away from Rhys and turned to Y/N with a tired smile. “Y/N, I haven’t seen you all night!”
“I know but I’ve been in search of my mate all night,” Y/N replied. “Have either of you seen him?”
The High Lady shook her head. “The last time I saw him, he was with you.”
Y/N sighed. “That was about an hour ago.”
Y/N looked around the room and out of the corner of her eye spotted a shadow darting towards her. Y/N quickly bid Rhys and Feyre a goodbye and walked to the shadow. It darted out and wrapped around her body, Y/N shivered. Despite his shadows not being a physical being, they were always chilly to the touch and she could swear that she felt Azriel’s hands in their caress.
“Now where is your master?” Y/N muttered and followed as the shadow led her to a door.
Y/N opened it and smiled at the sight. Azriel was slumped on the floor, his wings stretched out at his sides, seemingly laying on the floor. An empty bottle resided beside him as he looked out of the floor to ceiling window.
“There you are,” Y/N said, walking over to her mate.
Azriel’s head snapped to her and a lopsided grin spread across his face. “Y/N, come and sit with me.”
The moment Y/N sat down beside him, Azriel frowned. “I need you closer.”
Y/N shuffled closer and Azriel continued to frown. “Not close enough.”
Azriel let his legs fall open and gestured for Y/N to sit between them. Y/N chuckled and did as he wanted.
“Where have you been for the past hour?” Y/N asked as she leant back in his arms.
Azriel pressed her back to his chest firmly, pressing a soft kiss on the back of her neck. “I’ve been here, waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?” Y/N questioned, fully relaxing into Azriel’s arms. “Az, I had no clue where you were.”
“Oh, I thought I told you to meet me here?” Azriel asked, caressing her arms, causing goosebumps to trail in his wake.
“No, my love,” Y/N said. “You never did.”
Azriel huffed. “That explains a lot. I thought you forgot about me.”
“Sweetheart, I could never forget about you,” Y/N said, turning her head to look at him. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not a lot,” Azriel replied, burying his head into the crook of her neck.
“Then explain the empty bottle beside you,” Isal said, cupping his face.
“That was for my shadows,” Azriel replied, fighting a grin trying to force its way onto his face.
“I completely believe that1,” Y/N said with a smile as she pulled away from Azriel and stood to her feet.
Azriel reached out for her, a pout on his face. Y/N chuckled. Azriel rarely ever got this drunk, in fact he rarely ever got tipsy. It had been years since she had seen Azriel indulge this much.
“Come on,” Y/N said and held Azriel’s hands in hers.
“Where are we going?” Azriel asked, stumbling to his feet causing Y/N to balance him.
“To get you to bed,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around her mate.
“I don’t want to go to bed,” Azriel complained. He wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and rested his forehead against hers. “I want to stay here with you.” Azriel pressed a sloppy kiss against her lips. “I wanted to stay here and share a drink with you.”
Y/N pecked his lips. “You took care of that yourself, my love.”
Azriel sighed., frustrated with himself. “Will you come to bed with me?”
Y/N smiled and caressed his face. “Of course. Now come on.”
Y/N led Azriel out of the room, him clinging to her the whole time. There were eyes on them immediately when they stepped out, everyone clearly not used to seeing Azriel act the way he was.
“I was wondering where Az slipped away to,” Cassian commented, sliding up to the mated pair.
“He was hiding away in a separate room waiting for me,” Y/N answered while Azriel simply pulled her back against his chest. “An idea he completely forgot to tell me about.”
Cassian looked at Azriel and a quiet laugh sipped past his lips. “It’s been years since I’ve seen him this drunk. But I’ve never seen him like this, the last time he was just…broodier than usual.”
“That’s not true,” Azriel mumbled against Y/N’s head. “Y/N, tell him that it’s not true.”
Y/N laced her fingers with his. “Cass, it isn’t true.”
Cassian laughed and finished off his drink. “Well, I’ll let you get Az to bed. Mother help me when we go to training tomorrow with his hangover.”
Y/N peeled herself away from Azriel, to his dismay. She wrapped Cassian in a quick hug. “Well it’s a good thing that is your problem and not mine.”
“He’s your problem tonight,” Cassian said and pulled away.
Almost immediately, Azriel’s arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against him and buried his head into the crook of her neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against it.
“Don’t worry, he’s not a problem,” Y/N said as she turned in Azriel’s arms.
As Cassian bid goodbye to the couple and went to find his own mate, Azriel began to press more kisses against Y/N’s exposed skin. Despite being mated for over a century, Y/N felt herself begin to get flustered
“Having fun there?” Y/N asked, locking her arms around his neck.
“I love you,” Azriel mumbled.
Y/N smiled and gently cupped his face, pulling him away from the crook of her neck. “I love you too.”
“I don’t want to go to bed anymore,” Azriel said. “I want to stay here with you and watch Starfall.”
“Well we can find somewhere to sit,” Y/N suggested.
“But I just want to be with you,” Azriel whined.
Y/N’s eyes filled with amusement. “My love, have you forgotten in your drunken haze that there is a balcony connected to our bedroom.”
Azriel smiled. “Can we go there?”
Y/N pecked his lips. “That is where I was taking us anyway.”
Being affectionate was common for Azriel, but only behind closed doors. The most he would initiate any sort of public affection was maybe a quick kiss on the lips or cheek or a squeeze of her hand. But behind closed doors Azriel was the most affectionate male in existence.
Whenever they were alone and just lounging around after a long day, Azriel’s favourite position was to lay with his head on Y/N’s chest, silently listening to her heartbeat, her fingers tangling in his hair.
“I’m with you,” Azriel answered.
“Come on,” Y/N said and linked her fingers with Azriel’s.
Y/N led her mate to their room and closed the door behind them. The moment the doors were closed, Azriel began to pull Y/N over to the double doors to the balcony. Y/N followed him, watching as his wings scraped against the floor. Azriel didn’t seem phased.
Proceeding to open the doors, Azriel pulled her out into the cool night air. Y/N couldn’t help but smile in response to the genuine joy that presented itself on his face.
Azriel wrapped his arms around Y/N and pulled her close to him and planted his lips on hers. Y/N smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“There was something I wanted to tell you tonight,” Azriel mumbled against her lips, his body swaying. “I wanted to tell you when I snuck away.”
Y/N caressed Azriel’s cheeks. “What was it, my love?”
Azriel pulled away from Y/N and walked to the end of the balcony. Y/N followed.
Azriel pointed into the distance. “I bought that cottage you liked.”
Y/N looked at Azriel in disbelief. “You didn’t.”
Azriel turned to Y/N, a smile on his face. “I did. You liked it so I bought it.”
“But you said you didn’t want to move too far away from the rest of the Inner Circle in case anything happens,” Y/N said, wrapping his arms around his neck once again.
“I know,” Azriel said, his arms slipping around her waist. “But I need to start doing things for myself, not for others. And I have my own family now.”
A fond smile spread across Y/N’s face. “Are you sure about this, Az?”
Azriel nodded. “I had everything planned out tonight. We would slip away and share that bottle of drink together and I would tell you, but I think nerves got in the way and I began to have a few drinks to find the courage to tell you and then I had already finished the bottle and completely forgot to tell you to meet me.”
Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair. “You talk a lot when you’re drunk. And you’re not as articulate with your words either.”
Azriel groaned and buried his head into the crops of Y/Nm’s neck. “This isn’t how I planned it.”
Y/N’s hand found its home on the back of Azriel’s head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Azriel.”
“I love you so much,” Azriel mumbled, peppering kisses up her neck until his lips met her mouth once more.
Y/N melted into the kiss, somehow feeling herself falling more in love with Azriel— if that were even possible.
“I will never tire of kissing you,” Azriel whispered, his hands squeezing her hips.
“Then kiss me again, but—mmph—“
Y/N was cut off by Azriel's lips on hers, this time his mouth fully dominated hers as if he were a starved man. Y/N clung onto him, afraid that if she were to let go, her knees would buckle.
She could get lost in his kisses with no way out and she would die a happy woman.
However, the moment Azriel removed one of his hands from where he gripped the railing of the balcony, his body immediately began to sway. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and tried to stop the inevitable conclusion to this stunt but it was too late. Azriel fell back, pulling Y/N down with him.
His back landed onto the stone balcony with a loud thud while she landed softly upon his chest. Y/N quickly looked at Azriel, afraid that he was hurt but before she could ask him, the most beautiful sound rang through the air. Azriel’s laughter.
Azriel never laughed often. He would offer the occasional chuckle, or if he were in a specific instance— a giggle, though he would rather be shot down from the sky than ever admit that.
The laughter was contagious as Y/N began to laugh with him, fully relaxing atop his chest when she knew that he wasn’t hurt. Azriel’s hands rested on her back and hip, keeping her pressed against him.
“You have me weak at the knees,” Azriel spoke through his laughter.
“You didn’t need to bring me down with you,” Y/N replied.
“Wherever I go, you go,” Azriel teased.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “When I said that at our mating ceremony, I didn’t have this particular instance in mind.”
Azriel smiled wide. “It doesn’t matter. You said it.”
“And now I’m living to regret it,” Y/N joked.
Azriel’s hand caressed her face, his hot breath fanned across it. “No you don’t.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Y/N replied.
The moment their lips touched, the most beautiful sight that happened once a year shot across the sky. Both Y/N and Azriel were too wrapped up with one another to notice, but neither of them cared. Their most beautiful sight was when they looked at each other.
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Summary: You're not a fan of a kiss cam. And neither is your boyfriend.
Word count: 1,8k
Warnings: swearing, miserable knowledge of hockey (sorry yall), Rhys being a protective asshole over his sister
A/n: Anyone a hockey fan? No, just me? Okay. Another thing is, that I described university as I know it in my country haha. I hope no one will be confused
Also yes, I did take inspiration from tiktok. I just loved that scene <3
Leaves started to fall which meant your favorite season was starting. You loved anything and everything that came with autumn. The pumpkin spice, moody weather, sweaters, and books. With autumn knocking on your door, the new semester has begun. You didn't mind studying, you actually enjoyed it to a certain degree, but the stress is what always got to you during exams. You were just starting your second year of university, so you knew what to expect. To many that was all. Just endless studying and partying to get their minds off things. You? Not really. Ever since you could remember, fall meant the hockey season started. Were you a hockey player? No, not at all. Ice skating was your passion, just not hockey. That didn't matter, because your brother was the golden child. Rhysand played because your father used to. You would never say it out loud, mainly because it would inflate his ego even more, but Rhysand was a star player. He was so much better than your father and you knew that if he wanted to, he would make it far.
Rhys never acted towards you with any malice other than just a bit of sibling rivalry. He was actually quite protective of you, given the fact you were his little sister. But whatever you did was never good enough for your father. You might study medicine, but Rhys was finishing law. You might figure skate but you were no hockey player. And most of all, you were a woman. And your father despised you for it. You were expected to make it to every game, but no one ever wanted to attend your competitions.
You enjoyed watching the games, especially when Rhys met his best friends and teammates at university. The games became so much more interesting when Azriel entered the ice. Rhys might be the captain and the center, but Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, the fastest player in the rink. You became friends with both Cassian and Azriel quickly since you often visited their house to get away from your parents. Rhysand of course was glad but you knew you were off-limits to his friends. Not only was it obvious in how he glared at both of them whenever they made a comment he didn’t appreciate. But the first time you met, Cass basically undressed you with his eyes. From what you heard he reminded them often to not mess with his sister.
It did not stop you from developing feelings for him the moment you laid eyes on him. For a while, it did seem he viewed you only as his best friend's little sister. Which you had a hard time accepting. Your relationship changed when you sneaked into a party they had thrown in celebration of a victory last year. You were a first-year, and your first semester at university had been hectic, but living close to your brother and away from your parents was a long-awaited blessing. Having a taste of freedom made you bold. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of you, you had been like a magnet. He hadn't been the only one as you attracted the attention of another freshman. Azriel might not have acted on his attraction towards you before but seeing you with another man changed that. One thing led to another and you were sneaking out together whenever you found time.
It had been a year and your brother still had no clue. And you intended to keep it that way. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want to worry about his teeth off the ice as well. Cassian on the other hand suspected, thankfully as you introduced him to your friend, Nesta, he became preoccupied and dropped the matter.
''So who do you think will win? And be honest, they're not here, you can't hurt their fragile egos.'' Nesta disturbed your train of thought. You laughed shaking your head. You loved hanging out with her because of how direct she was, always saying exactly what was on her mind. You met Nesta when your university did a charity ballet on the ice of Nutcracker. You got the role of Clara and she was your ballet counterpart. You did not expect to establish a friendship with her, but she was exactly who you needed in your life. You knew she would call you out on your bullshit anytime and you liked her for it. She also happened to be the first person you told about Azriel. She was not surprised, saying that you weren't being as secretive as you thought you had been.
''You know I am still biased since I really want our team to win. The Cavaliers are good and they play dirty. But Cass will probably try to kill Eris on the ice. Given the history and all.'' You gave her a pointed look. Shifting your gaze to the rink, you tried to find number 38.
''They’ve got no chance against VU.'' Said a guy next to you. You hated when someone butted their way into a conversation. But given the fact, that you would be spending about two hours in close proximity, you had decided for a polite smile. ''I guess so.''
''So how come you've got such good seats? Know someone on the team?'' He chimed in again.
''You could say that. My brother is the captain.'' You answered keeping your eyes on Azriel as he warmed up.
''Rhysand is your brother?''
''Unfortunately.'' You nodded, and his eyes grew in size. ''That's so lucky! I wish I was a hockey player or just knew them. You see, I got these seats because I'll be writing an article about the game.'' You smiled politely again shifting your gaze to the rink when the puck was just about to hit the ice.
As the game progressed, the crowd became electric. All the fans were shouting and your ears began ringing. Velaris Bats were in the lead, but only by one goal and everyone was nervous. To make the game even more enjoyable, there were games for the fans as well. Students competed against one another to win points for their university and win the competition of the tribunes.
The competitions were fun and good entertainment during breaks. But while the game continued the camera was turned on. You laughed at a random do a meme moment, but quickly turned your head back to the ice. You didn't want to miss a second of Azriel's game. Fully focused, you didn't realize that the camera switched to a kiss cam. A guy sitting next to you turned his head to face you and pointed to the TV earning your attention. ''I mean when in Rome, right?'' He laughed as he tried to close the distance. ''Yeah, no, thank you.'' You laughed nervously shifting in your seat.
''Oh come on, it's just a kiss.'' He pressured, and you gave a panicked look towards the ice. You heard Nesta taking a sharp inhale to give the guy a piece of her mind. You were interrupted by shouts of the fans and loud banging on the glass.
''Back the fuck off.'' You couldn't hear Az properly, but the message was quite clear, making the guy shift his gaze between the two of you uncomfortably. Az got two minutes for stalling the game which made the crowd boo and your brother yell obscenities as he often did when one of his teammates was sent to a bench. Thankfully during the power play the Cavaliers didn't get a goal in, but it was close. It only enraged Rhysand more which was abundantly clear when he almost broke his stick as the second period came to an end.
Azriel was sending daggers to the guy sitting next to you who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. He relaxed when the players left for their locker rooms. You just hoped Rhys didn't look much into Azriel's possessive behavior.
''What the fuck was that?'' Roared Rhys as he entered the locker room.
''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Azriel continued to take off his gear.
''Do not play with me! You could have cost us the game.''
''I was thinking I did you a favor. He had no right to touch her like that.'' He finally faced Rhysand.
''It was a fucking kiss cam.''
''She didn't want to be kissed. And he didn't back off.''
''So what? You made it your mission to help her while you were supposed to pay attention to the puck?'' Spit Rhys. Everyone in the locker room was silent watching the two stubborn players go head to head.
''Yes! And I would do it again.'' Azriel retorted.
''I could have you off the team for this.'' He hissed.
''Rhys-.'' Cassian signed. ''Be my guest.'' Azriel interrupted starring Rhysand down. He wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He knew you could have handled yourself back there. Hell, Nesta was there, too and she wouldn't let some guy do anything disrespectful. He just acted on an impulse. When he looked up and saw your panicked gaze, something shifted inside him. Rhys kept watching Azriel, staring right into his soul when suddenly his eyes grew larger as if recognizing what he should have seen from the very beginning.
''You've got to be kidding me.'' When Azriel didn't answer, Rhys continued, ''Tell me you don’t have a thing for my little sister.’’
''Azriel, I swear to everything that is holly, I will fucking punch you if you don't give me an answer.''
''We are together. Have been for almost a year.'' Azriel never saw anyone have an aneurysm. But if he could guess, Rhysand was a textbook example of how it looked like.
''I take it back, I will punch you anyway.'' And he might have if Cassian wasn't there to catch Rhys. ''Easy there killer. The game is still on. And you might not like it but Az is an asset.''
''I don't want to see you anywhere near her, understand? I know how you are with girls!'' Rhysand snarled.
''You know I can't do that.''
''Then you're off the team.''
''Fine.''
As they returned to the ice, the tension between Velaris Bats was palpable. Cassian was looking between his teammates probably trying to find a quick solution to the problem at hand. Azriel wasn't paying you any attention keeping his gaze on the ice only. You frowned slightly. When you looked at Rhys you found him staring back at you anger oozing out of his every move.
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