#{ they are spicy spicy. cut the tension with a knife. }

[eroselless]

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME 

Summary: You and Lando need to talk after what transpired on the car ride to the hotel. What will you both decide? [2.5k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 1 - LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, unprotected sex, oral, missionary

Note: Thank you all so much for the love, support and patience! I wanted it to be spicy but also a little soft, I hope it comes off that way. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I hope it's alright that I tagged everyone who commented on part 1! Happy reading, love you all!

The tension in the air is palpable. It’s fog clinging to the morning air, waiting to dissipate. It’s a sink threatening to overflow, every passing moment teetering closer to the edge of chaos. It’s a champagne bottle, waiting for just the right push to pop. Lando stands with his back to the hotel door as you stand in front of your bed, fidgeting with your fingers. The silence in the elevator and the walk to the room is almost frightening. The adrenaline from the car ride had slowly faded as you stood, frozen in place. Your palms feel sweaty, your heart pounding in your chest. You both stand in the limbo of uncertainty’s clutch. 

“What if we just –”

“We can pret –”

Your words collide in the air, an awkward and strained laugh escaping the both of you. Doubt begins to gnaw at your mind, maybe he’s regretting it? You wonder. Maybe he was in need of some release and you happened to give it to him. 

“If you want,” you begin tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. “We can pretend this never happened.” 

Lando takes in a sharp breath, nodding. He shifts from foot to foot, bottom lip curled between his teeth as he nervously bites into it. He blinks, eyes watering. His chest begins to tighten up and he feels like he could break down then and there. Maybe in the spur of the moment, his lapse of judgment was the final straw that broke the camel's back and you’re eager to forget about the eventful ride over.  

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sitting down on his bed. His voice is quiet, barely audible as he twists his fingers in his hands. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes and stares down at your shoes. 

A heavy silence envelops the room, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, anticipation building in the man who sits before you. Blinking the tears that had snuck into your eyes, you shake your head. Your chest feels heavy as you answer him.

“No.”

The single word cuts through the air like a knife and hands there for a second. Time stands still for a moment as Lando’s head whips up to look at you. Time crashes down over you as he collides with you.

You weren’t quite sure of what you expected from your first kiss with Lando yet as his lips brushed with yours you couldn’t help but be struck by how perfect his lips felt on yours. His hands are cradling your cheeks, fingers pressing lightly into your skin as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like fine porcelain. There is a delicate urgency in how his lips dance over yours. Years upon years of longing rising to the surface of your skin. His tongue slips past your lips, he can taste the remnants of the wine from earlier, a mixture of desire and indulgence. 

His hands move with a purpose, one gently placed at the joint of your jaw, a possessive gesture that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. The other rests firmly on the small of your back, pushing you closer with a quiet promise of ecstasy to come. He nudges your chin up with his hand, moving slowly and carefully. 

He pulls away, eyes droopy and half-lidded with desire. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You’re both heaving as you stand in the middle of the room, taking a moment to admire one another. The youthfulness and beauty of his face are so much more evident up close. It's nothing short of captivating. You had always thought he was handsome but now you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You can count the freckles scattered on his sun-kissed skin, the speckles of colour in his eyes are like shards of glass and his long lashes frame them beautifully. 

His hands fall from your face, sliding down and behind your shoulders. “Turn around,” he says. You comply, moving to face the other way. His hands move over the expanse of your back and you get a flashback to the moment you sat in his lap, just under 15 minutes ago.  His breath is fanning on your back, a familiar chill surging through your body again. 

His fingers land on the zipper of your dress, tugging on it as he asks for your permission to take it off. You nod, collecting your hair to one side. He pulls the zip down, fingers dragging lightly over the increasingly exposed skin. He presses his mouth tenderly to your spine, pulling a shaky breath from your lips. He pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, sending the fabric to the floor. It leaves you standing in your underwear, having foregone a bra. You turn around to face him, eyes scanning his face once again.

His lips find their way to your jaw, nipping lightly at it. You push his blazer from his shoulders, moving to unbutton his crisp white shirt. 

He shoves you lightly but with enough force to send you falling back onto the bed. He can’t help but admire you as you lay there. Your hair is out in a halo around your head and you're propping yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide as you gaze up at him.

He pulls his trousers off and you can see the shape of his cock through his boxers. Lowering himself on top of you, he litters kisses over your chest, lips coming to wrap around a pebbled nipple. You arch your back slightly at the feeling of his lips over the sensitive bud. Your hand goes to his hair, threading through it as he pushes his face further into the plushness of your tit. His other hand is snaking down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he moves down, sitting back on his knees. He pulls a leg up over his shoulder, beginning to trail kisses from your ankle to your knee. Your skin is soft and warm, goosebumps starting to bloom over it. 

You’re nervous as he makes his way up your thigh, teeth teasingly dipping into the soft skin. You let out a gasp as he does so, moving his lips to your other leg. In an instant, he’s back at the top of your leg, at the junction where they meet. He kisses the damp fabric of your underwear, eyes peering up at you. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks innocently. You hesitate, heart threatening to pop out of your chest. You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His fingers hook around your underwear, pulling them down swiftly. Your knees come together on instinct.

He lets out a small chuckle, moving onto the floor in front of the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the crook of your knees, pressing a kiss to each one. 

“I want a taste.” He hums, only causing your heart to beat faster. His hands move up to take hold of your hips, pressing his cheek to your knees as if to ask are you ready? He waits until you’ve given him a small yet decisive yes before gently pulling your legs open. He goes straight to your sex, pressing his lips to your folds before spreading them open, making a v with his fingers. He teases you, letting out a single soft puff. His tongue darts out, dragging over the sensitive flesh but not over the part where you need him most. This causes your hips to buck up, aching for more of his touch. He continues, now plunging his tongue inside you.

“Fuck –” you moan out, body beginning to tremble with need as he shoves his face even closer. Your fingers pull harshly at his hair as he flicks his tongue expertly at your hole, his groan sending vibrations through your body. His fingers grip tight at your hips, grounding you in place. He sends a red-hot feeling through you as he fucks the muscle into you steadily. It pokes into a spongy, sensitive spot within you. He pulls away, blowing gently at the wet skin. 

“God, baby. You taste so fucking good.” 

He slips a finger in, thumb moving in careful circles over your clit, eliciting more moans from you. A smile is playing on his lips, as you feel yourself teetering towards the edge, a coil tightening in your gut. You cry out, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Your hips are bucking and your legs try to close around his head.

He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you, easing you down from your orgasm. Your chest heaves and you shake breathlessly. He pulls away, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes sparkle with lust as he presses his lips one more time to the skin of your thigh. It’s a look you’d only imagined in your mind. 

He stands over you, admiring how you look with your cheeks flushed and a light layer of sweat on your skin. Your chest is rising up and down quickly as you come down from your high. You’re staring up at him, eyes hazy and lips parted. You look ethereal, a piece of art hanging in a museum, the image of perfection. 

Regaining your breath, your hands work on Lando’s boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free. It taps lightly at his stomach, a bead of pre-cum on the red angry tip. You wrap a hand around it, thumb going to run over the crease of the head. Lando hisses and shakes his head at you begin to jerk your hand. His voice is strained as he tells you no.

“Not tonight,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Just need to be inside you.”

You nod, moving up the bed, into its centre. He crawls over you, showering your body with kisses as he does so. A kiss right over your pubic bone, one on your ribcage and the last one over the corner of your mouth. 

He stares into your eyes as he pushes in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to keep him quiet. He fills you in a single movement, one powerful thrust. Your breath hitches as he does so, lips forming a tight o. You can feel his cock hit you just at the right spot, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. The squeeze of your cunt around his cock was better than Lando could have imagined. 

He’s pushing your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts a slow grind. He rolls into you, pushing deeper and deeper as he goes. He feels so good, it’s almost unbearable. You’re completely at his mercy, his touch spreading fires in you, wherever it goes. 

You're writhing beneath him as he kisses you. His tongue is darting into your mouth, stealing your breath away. 

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he says over the sound of himself sliding in and out of you with ease. The sound is slick and wet, it’s filthy yet it only makes you fall deeper into pleasure’s embrace. Your body molds perfectly into him and you find yourself wondering how you’d never noticed that before. All those times when he held you, when you held him. There were so many signs and you were both oblivious to them. 

He pushes down on your lower tummy and it presses something deeper within you. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands find purchase on Lando’s shoulder, pulling him down so you’re almost chest to chest. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he mumbles, lips against the shell of your ear. You clench around him, the words only spurring you on. He continues to fuck you into the mattress, stroking your walls just right. 

“Lan, I –” you begin to say. The buildup is getting too much as you feel yourself swing closer to your climax. Lando can feel it too. The spasming of your body, the slight arch of your back. The air is knocked out of your chest as the moment hits, pleasure crashing over you. His name falls from your lips like a mantra and he only pushes faster. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you now. He thrusts into you one last time before he tips over the edge, losing himself then and there. 

You feel him let out a gasp as he collapses over you in a sweaty mess. His body is heavy laying on top of yours but it isn’t uncomfortable.  His skin is sticky and his breath fans over your neck. You’re both breathing heavily as the energy in the room begins to diminish. Your hand goes to thread through his unruly curls as he peppers light kisses to the column of your throat. 

He gets up after a few minutes, telling you to sit still as he does. He returns with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess you’ve made together. He tosses it away and crawls back towards you, pulling the cover over the top of your bodies. 

He stills against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mind only filled with thoughts of you. He can only really think of how flawlessly you fit together. Or the feeling of how delicious you feel pressed up against him. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make a move,” he says, peering up at you. You smile, shaking your head. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” 

You both carry on there for a second, his cheek now pressed to your chest. His eyes have begun to flutter close as the gentle sound of your breathing slowly lulls him to sleep. His fingers are softly tracing circles on your ribcage where he holds you. There are no words exchanged between the two of you but there’s so much said in the silence as you cling to each other. 

“Lan..” you whisper, voice soft. He hummed in response, squeezing you. You nibbled your lip nervously as the words waited in your mouth.

“I love you.” his fingers stop in their tracks. He let out a gentle, barely audible chuckle. You’re unsure of what his reaction is.  He rises to his elbows and bounces slightly on the mattress, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, voice husky. His fingers are now prodding at your side and you let out bouts of laughter as he does.

“I love you.” he nips at the soft skin of your neck, evoking a laugh out of you. His energy seems renewed as his lips continue their dance over your skin and he gradually makes his way up to your face.

“I love you too,” he says, his smile wide, pulling you on top of him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

@noneofyourfbusinessworld

@shellybee456

@m4rt10ne

@roostersluvvr

@playboygeniusphilanthropist

@landoslutmeout

@mlfdcm

@landosmybf

@fortunatelychocolatefest

@katieschry1

@scopeiguess

@idontcare011

@mylifeislikecandycanes

[crystalflygeo]

How to Warm Up your Dragon ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: ngl this is MOSTLY VERY FLUFFY but it has a veeeery spicy part ehehehehe, praise kink, biting, bit of rough sex, creampie, dirty talk. Reader is technically Fontainian but you can ignore that tbh

notes: Y'ALL THIS HAS BEEN ON MY WIPS SINCE BEFORE FONTAINE IT'S BEEN SOSOSOSOSO LONG I started writing at the start of winter here, now it's summer lmao but hey at least it's winter in the northern hemisphere so... enjoy the snow and dragon man!! Also also... no one guessed what the gift was but Rin was the closest!

Your mother always used to say the way to a man's heart was with food.

you wonder if that applied to archons... er, dragons? adepti?

In any case...

Zhongli has always been a... particular eater. A very refined palate. It's not that he was hard to please, to tell the truth. But he always seemed to have an extra comment, something to add or change to a dish to make it ‘a little more special’.

But you'd quickly find out he had a soft spot for broths and soups, bamboo shoot soup being his particular favorite. Even when it took a lot of hard work and time to prepare, the way he did so was worth it, simply spectacular.

That's why you could almost cry with joy when he happily praised one of your favorite dishes. A fantastic soup d'oignon passed down on your family. Nothing to add, no extras or corrections, he'd enjoy it to its fullest talking about the creamy texture and unique flavor of the cheese so different from those found in Liyue.

So, today you decided to prepare it. Nothing better to warm up on this chilly season, and besides you'd just received a shipment of ingredients from your family.

The rhythm of a knife on a cutting board fills the air, along with a delicious smell. You finish slicing the onions into thin strips and add them to the pot at the stove, humming lightly while stirring. You really hope nothing would keep your dear Zhongli too busy today, so he could be just in time to enjoy this while still fresh and warm.

You turn off the other burner as the beef stock had already warmed up, and start washing some dishes while keeping an eye on the food. It is… rather amusing just how domestic this all feels. Not too long ago you were adventuring over Teyvat, facing off all sorts of crazy dangers, exploring, and never stopping in one place and now… now this feels like home.

And that is without taking into account who your fiancé even is. The former Geo Archon. You shake your head with a light chuckle. It’s still so weird to think of such an imposing figure from legends to be so… him.

You dry your hands and start to pour the broth on the now-golden onions, stirring.

Zhongli is sweet, caring, attentive, wise, with just the right words at the right time. Admittedly a bit airheaded at times, funny when he wants to be. A refined gentleman through and through unlike anyone you’d ever met.

And he loves you.

And you’re engaged.

Warmth rises up to your cheeks along with a small smile as you lower the heat and start grating the cheese.

You heard sounds at the front door and then steps. Oh, early today. Zhongli walks up to you with a smile, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek, his hands resting at your waist as he leans in from over your shoulder. “Welcome home, Li.”

“Thank you” He replies in that deep suave voice. “That smells good my love, would you like some help finishing?”

You shake your head a little. “Please, there’s no need, you just got home. Go take a bath and unwind a little, I’ll finish here and we’ll eat.”

Zhongli looks as if he’s about to say something but simply nods. “Hmm, alright then.” He pulls you a little closer in his embrace, as if he’d missed your contact, your scent. Zhongli inhales deeply, tension seeping off of his body and he gives a soft kiss at your shoulder before almost regretfully pulling away. You chuckle a little and stir the pan.

How domestic and loving indeed.

…

Later when the food is ready and served, he returns to the small kitchen dressed in much more casual and comfier robes. Your eyes linger a little on the small expanse of exposed skin at his neck and chest and then stop at the way his long hair is tied up in a bun.

“Not washing your hair today?” You ask casually, taking your seat.

 “I… Perhaps I have gotten rather used you doing it. I simply didn’t feel like it.”

You can’t help the short laugh that escapes you, even as you try to cover it a little. “Is this your way of saying you wanted me to bathe with you?”

His golden eyes twinkle. “I would certainly enjoy indulging in that more often.”

Your cheeks flush and you avert your eyes.

He takes a spoonful of soup and hums, closing his eyes to appreciate the flavors. “The finest ingredients cooked with true expertise. Simply divine, my love, thank you.”

“Flatterer.” You say, a little embarrassed but he can see right thought it, your little grin, the little shift in your posture.

“I am simply stating the truth.” He replies and continues eating. You can see his shoulders relax and the small satisfied smile at the warm food, it makes you a little giddy as you start eating as well.

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

bundling up during winter was obvious, right?

Putting on layers and layers of clothes. And true, perhaps Liyue didn't get as cold as other nations such as Fontaine, Mondstadt or of course Snezhnaya, but maybe it was exactly for that reason the temperature drop seemed to affect everyone all the more. Besides, the people would take any excuse to show off their fancy coats, scarves and other cold-climate outfits.

Zhongli naturally wore many layers, and he did mention once or twice he wasn't as affected by the cold. Yet, his business partner had gifted him a thick snezhnayan cloak.

The thing was entirely ridiculous, too bulky with a fluffy overtop, the colors dark and cool not matching Zhongli at all.

And yet he'd used it! (Only twice... but still)

You were not jealous, not at all.

You just wanted to... give him something he'd also enjoy and wear around, yes. Something personal, something he’d like and look at and remember you.

But what?

Ugh, it’s not like you were really well versed in sewing. Back at home you’d even had some machinery for that, but here in Liyue… you wracked your brain thinking what could you give him. He had quite a few elegant outfits, fitting him perfectly and enhancing all his attributes, all personally tailored by one of his late Yaksha so they held immense sentimental value as well… how could you compete with that?!

Right, right, it was not a competition. You sigh. Zhongli will probably be happy with anything you give him, but still…

An idea pops into your head and you can’t help but chuckle. Oh, it’s so silly… but maybe…

Simple enough, personal, something he’d use during the cold season only around you. Could work, you decided as you pick up your things to go visit the textile shop.

If nothing else, it could at least get a good chuckle out of Zhongli, right?

And so, for a few days you work on your little project. Turns out sewing was indeed a little harder than expected but you were trying your best. The kind lady who’d sold you some excellent wool had also given you some tips and they proved to be most useful indeed!

Regrettably you didn’t exactly have the right measurements so you more or less eyeballed them. Eh. It’ll be fine…

Zhongli almost came close to finding out too, though you were inconspicuous enough. You’re sure he suspects something.

“It will all be worth it, it will all be worth it…” You mumble to yourself with a frown as you finish trimming one of the stitches. Your fingers hurt.

…

“Li! I have something for you!” You exclaim happily, hands behind your back holding the wrapped-up item you had worked so hard on. An excited glow on your smile and bright eyes.

“Oh? Am I going to finally see what you’ve been guarding to secrecy this past week?” He replies coolly with a knowing smile, amusement dancing on his tone as he places his teacup down.

Nothing escapes him.

“Yes” You present him the gift, your hands then fidget nervously, having nothing else to do now. “I hope you like it! It’s… my first time doing something like this… i-it may not be that good, it’s kind of silly but-”

“Darling please do not fret, I would love anything you give me.”

Your shoulders relax.

Zhongli unwraps the paper and finds a rich dark brown fabric staring back at him, he picks the item and opens it, trying to gauge its shape, thick wool, a little rough around the edges but you did mention it was your first try and he is honored enough you’d make such effort for him.

However…

What is it exactly?

He turns the item around trying not to show too much confusion on his face as to insult you or make you feel bad, it looks like… a severely oversized legwarmer?

“It’s…” You start, feeling a little shy and silly once more. “…for your tail.”

Recognition shines in his eyes and he blinks at the item. 

“You- I know you like to let loose a little around the house and let your illuminated beast features show, I love you tail too but I know… the scales get cold easily a-and usually we just bundle up with a blanket but I thought-”

“I love it.”

You stop running your mouth as soon as he utters those words, Zhongli looks at you with a gentle calm and your heart could melt at the sincerity in his expression. “No one had ever made something like this for me.”

He stands and unfurls the item, then, in a flash of gold his dragon tail manifests, majestic as ever and swaying lazily, the tuft of fur at the end flickering with each move. He maneuvers a little to slip the ‘tailwarmer’ on and though it sags a little, much to your relief it at least fits nicely. There is a yellow diamond pattern near the base that you’d started working on but deemed too difficult for a first try. It was a cute little detail though, maybe next time.

“Warm and cozy.” He chuckles and you beam at him, before letting out a squeak as said dragon tail curls around you, pressing your forward against his chest.

“Thank you, my love.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead.

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

The air is hot and heavy as soft moans and grunts fill the room.

Well, this was certainly a way to warm up… and get some good cardio.

You pant and squirm on the plush surface of a heavenly mattress as the familiar weight of the ex-archon descends upon you. His arms going from a golden orange hue to a deep charcoal, lines of gold thrumming across his skin, glowing softly in periodic pulses up strong muscular arms. Golden horns rise from soft brown hair curled at the tips, two on each side like a crown, while a powerful scaly tail wraps around your calf holding your leg up, spread.

This is Rex Lapis. Morax. Any other number of names he had. This is the Geo Archon.

“Zhongliii!” You whine, his hands caressing your body, claws teasing along your skin, pinching a nipple, fangs grazing your collarbone and a long serpentine tongue licking a hot stripe across your neck.

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, already rock hard and burning like a brand, your hips canting for more. For him to finally fill you, to feel his thick overwhelming girth stretch you, breed you… you want to be filled so full it overflows, so that it dribbles down your thighs and ass in thick, slick rivulets of his love.

“Patience my love.”

You whimper and jerk at that, about to cry out for him again when he rolls his hips and sinks in your warm hole. Your breath catches in your throat as your head throws back on the soft feather pillows.

He pushes into you inch by inch, carving a space for himself with a soft rumbling groan. His lips seek yours as his hands slide to your hips and press hard enough to bruise. His kiss devouring, all-consuming with need as he bottoms inside you, hips pressed flush.

Gods you feel so full, stretched and filled every inch and then some, and he doesn’t allow you a moment to pause and adjust either. A beast of a man in the best of ways, he withdraws halfway, only to slam forward in a fluid firm thrust.

“Mng-! Ah!”

“Mine. All mine. S-so warm and thigh- nghh…”

His pace starts slow, his voice alone enough to drive you crazy with how deep, carnal, animalistic it is against your neck. Sharp canines teasing the elegant column of your throat as he moves.

“Oh! so good… Li… f-faster… faster ple-ahhn!” Your voice pitches high as you babble, pleasure coiling on your gut.    

“As- you desire…” Strained words still sounding like the very embodiment of sex, his voice so sinfully deep, so erotic it washes over you like liquid silk, like molten gold, only heightening the sensations of his quickening pace. In and out, in and out, skin slapping on skin. “You’re… you’re so perfect for me-”

You take him so well, your legs spread wide, your back arched, your insides molded to his length, enveloping him in the most mind-blowing of heats. The bed creaking as Zhongli delivers another powerful thrust, hitting a sweet spot deep within you and making you elicit a sharp keening sob of a moan. Your hands scrambling from the sheets to seek purchase at his back, curled up under his arms to scratch viciously trying to hold onto something, anything as he drives into you thrust after thrust after thrust-    

“I’m- I’m gon-ahnn! Z-Zhongli… ooohh!”

Fuck you are close. So, so close…

He nips at the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. “Almost there… little one.” He huffs between strained grunts and you whimper at the pet name. Golden claws sink on the bedsheets, gripping thigh for leverage as he moves faster, frantic, hips like pistons he fucks into you like a wild animal, the bed rocking, shaking with each thrust. “C-close…”

You mewl and moan, unable to form coherent thoughts anymore but just feel the hot burning pleasure, his warm puffs of breath on your skin, your sweating bodies dampening the sheets and you desperately want to feel his warm seed inside you, filled to the brim with his creamy cum.

“Pleasepleaseplease i-in! In-s-ahh!” You come with a sharp cry, vision blurring, muscles clenching, your insides squeezing around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

It was enough, the tipping point for the dragon, his thrusts shallowing out until he ruts as deep as he can and shoots his load inside you with a guttural groan. Thick spurts pumping inside you before it pools out around his own cock, leaking from your body until there’s nothing left to give.  

Everything is hot… so hot… the air heavy and musky with the scent of sex…

…

Zhongli slumps softly atop your body after what feels like ana eternity, his cock still comfortably nestled within your slick walls, cushioned by fluttering muscles. You lay beneath him, sweaty and shivering, breathless, chest raising and falling rapidly in small gasps as you struggle to catch your breath but oh, how you took his away…

 Beautiful, truly… your half-lidded eyes glazed over, barely able to open admits your exhaustion, but still able to whimper soft little moans as he trails fluttering reverent kisses along your neck and collarbone. Soft, chaste, loving and tender touches.

“Ahhn… mmm…” He chuckles softly at the endearing sounds you make as he eases out of you, the subtle friction enough to sent fire to your nerves, followed by a strange emptiness that mellows down to buzzing contentment.

He lies to the side and pulls you close towards his chest, his tail finally letting your now sore leg rest, uncoiling from it to curl around you both, you settle there with a sigh, eyes sliding shut. “So good for me.” Zhongli gently brushes some hair away from your face and places a kiss at the crown of your head, resting his chin there. “Rest now, dear.”

“Mn.”

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

You smile as Zhongli places the two steaming teacups on the table before scooting over and welcoming him with the blanket surrounding you. He settles on the couch with you cuddling close and passing the book on your hands to him. Your fingers brush and he sets the book on his lap before taking your hands on his, cradling them close to his face before blowing a warm breath on them. You blush and let out a little airy laugh.

“What is this? Dragon breath to keep me warm?”

He hums against your skin, piercing golden eyes staring up at you. “No, just my love for you.” He kisses your knuckles and fingers.

“You…” You mumble, averting your gaze.

He chuckles and kisses your wrist then before leaning in close and kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, anywhere he can reach.

“Ngah, wait you affectionate big lizard!” You squirm and he laughs fully now.

“Just seeking my adorable fiancée’s warmth” He nuzzles onto your neck, kissing there too and making you yelp. “Gorgeous.”

“A-Am not!”

“So precious when you get all shy and flustered.” He gets your jaw this time when you move, so close to your lips.

“Stop! You menace…” You pout and this time you cup his face, staring for a moment at his handsome features, your thumb brushing close to one of the red markings under his eyes.

This man. This dragon. This god.

Oh, how you love him. He warms up your heart.

“Here, I’ll warm you up proper…” You whisper softly, pulling him close and tilting your head to slot your lips together.

Just as you warm up his.

[pasaatimonarkin]

As for request, can you write something spicy with Lee Know please? (He's my bias ❤️‍🔥) Maybe a heated makeout session (?) but it's merely a suggestion, the idea is totally up to you 🤗

P.S. Always love your writings ❤️

Thank you so much love🥹💕 I loved this request and it was fun to write! I hope it catches up to your expectations🫶

Lee Minho × reader

A dare turns into a heated make out😌

Word count: 1,5k

Minho's apartment was a cozy mess of laughter and good spirits, the air thick with the aroma of spilled drinks and the faint scent of burnt popcorn. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you sat on the worn-out couch, your knees bumping against Hyunjin's as you both leaned over the coffee table to grab a chip. The walls were adorned with posters of bands you had only heard of in passing.

Hannah, the ever-mischievous one, had suggested a round of "truth or dare" to liven up the evening. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she took a sip of her beer, swirling it around in the bottle before setting it down with a clink. "Okay, guys, I dare you and Minho to kiss," she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife. The room froze, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. You knew Hannah did it on purpose, because she knew there had been something between you and Minho for a while.

Minho's gaze met yours for a fraction of a second before he leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Come on, it's just a dare," Hyunjin added, nudging you playfully. You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks, and you knew that you had to go through with it. It was either this or face the embarrassment of refusing. So, with a deep breath, you leaned in, your eyes closing as your lips met his.

The kiss was brief, a mere brush of skin against skin, but the electricity that sparked between you was undeniable. The room erupted into cheers and catcalls as you both pulled away, laughing awkwardly. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping no one had noticed the sudden racing of your heart. "Alright, alright," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "who's next?"

As Hyunjin started to ask Hannah, you nervously bit your lip and with the corner of your eye you saw Minho looking at you. The chemistry between you and him had been palpable for a while, but you had never acted on it. That quick kiss was like a match thrown into a puddle of gasoline - it had ignited something that couldn’t be easily doused. The small touch made you grave for more, but you didn't dare to confess your feelings.

The rest of the night went on with more drinks and laughter, the game continuing in a blur of truths and dares. But the atmosphere had shifted, and every time Minho was close, you could feel the tension coil around you like a tightening spring. When Hannah suggested heading to the bar, you excused yourself to the bathroom for a quick refresh. The bathroom mirror revealed your flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips, a stark reminder of the unexpected moment that had passed between you. You took a deep breath, willing your heart to settle as you dabbed some cold water on your face and reapplied your lipstick. The door creaked and Minho was standing at the door.

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned against the door frame, his eyes dark with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. You nodded, trying to play it cool, but the tremble in your voice betrayed you. "You looked like you needed a breather," he said, closing the door behind him.

The bathroom was small, and with Minho in it, it felt even smaller. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing heavier with each passing second. He took a step closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, mingling with the alcohol on his breath. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. Before you could say anything, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"That was... an unexpected move from Hannah" he said, his voice a little unsteady. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken desire, until finally, you broke it with a nervous laugh. "Yeah, it was," you agreed, trying to play it off as casually as you could. But the way his thumb lingered on your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw, told you that he wasn't buying it.

He took another step closer, and you felt your body respond, leaning into his touch without conscious thought. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The heat from his body seeped into yours, setting every nerve ending alight.

Minho's hand slid up to your neck, his thumb brushing against the pulse point where your heart hammered a frantic beat. His eyes dropped to your lips, and you could see the moment when he made his decision. He leaned in, and this time, there was no room for doubt. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, letting go of the tension that had been building since the daring game began.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath under your palms. His touch grew more urgent, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head to deepen the kiss. The world outside the bathroom faded away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating taste of each other.

You felt your body responding in ways it never had before, and your mind raced with the sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, this was more than a drunken dare. The kiss grew hotter, your breaths coming in gasps as you both lost track of time and space.

Minho's hands slid down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you even closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers weaving through his hair as you matched his fervor. The chemistry was undeniable, and the line between friends and something more had been crossed with a fiery boldness that neither of you could ignore.

Minho pulled away slightly, panting, reasting his forehead against yours. His eyes pierced right into yours. You took a shaky breath, the coolness of the air hitting your flushed cheeks and you stared back at him. You didn't know where this was going, but you didn't want it to stop.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Your heart stuttered at his confession, and you felt your walls crumbling down. "Me too," you whispered back, your voice barely a breath. The words hung between you, loaded with meaning and possibility.

With a smirk that could make you melt on the spot, Minho pushed you gently but firmly against the wall, his body pressing into yours. He leaned in again, his lips finding yours with a confidence that sent a thrill through your body. This kiss was different from the first - a declaration of desire that had been simmering just beneath the surface.

As his hands roamed over your body, you felt alive in a way you hadn't in what felt like forever. His touch was a brand, leaving an imprint on your skin that you knew you would feel even after the alcohol had worn off. You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring the planes of his chest.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongues tangling together as you both gave in to the attraction that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long. Your breaths grew ragged, and you felt your knees start to tremble.

Minho's hand trailed down to the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your stomach, sending waves of heat through you. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss even further, his other hand cupping your face. The sound of your muffled moans filled the small bathroom, echoing off the tiles.

He pulled away just long enough to murmur, "You taste better than I ever thought," before his mouth claimed yours again. The words sent a jolt through you, igniting a fire that you hadn't even known was smoldering. You had imagined kisses with him before, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of it - the way his lips felt against yours, the taste of him, the scent of his skin.

You heard Hannah shout something outside the door. The muffled sound of her voice seemed to break the spell, and you both pulled away, panting. Your eyes searched his, and the heat you found there made your stomach flip.

"I guess we should head out" you breathed out, still catching your breath. Smiling slightly at the sight of your lipstick smeared all over Minho's lips.

"I agree" Minho nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I also agree that we should continue this later" he smirked, the desire still evident in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile back, your heart racing with excitement and nerves. He opened the bathroom door and you both stepped out, trying to compose yourselves before facing your friends.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 19

An: Thanks for your patience, I am so excited about this part!! SMUT WARNING, it gets spicy!

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 6100 (way too long!)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, minors dni, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.

Photo credit to @ave661

Ghost towers over me, his dark shadow cast upon my cowering frame. Fearful eyes drag over the predator in front of me. How he analyzes my every move. How his black shirt clings to the thick muscle around his shoulders and arms as his chest eagerly heaves with excitement. How his gloved hands clench and release, ready to wrap themselves around me and tear me apart. This is what he was made for. This is the chase that sets him on fire, makes him feel alive.

“Now what’re you going to do?” his voice sounds like it could cut. After his initial attempt, I quickly cornered myself between the wall and the dresser. Now Ghost fills the entire walkway between the dresser and bed, leaving me with nowhere to go. Everything about his posture tells me he’s only seconds away from trying again. I spare a glance at the weapon in my hands and my grip tightens around it. “Your trapped, y/n, what’s your next move?” What the hell kind of training is this?

But I don’t get much time to think. The ambiguous soldier in front of me slowly stalks forward. There’s a vertical slit in his eyes like those of a wild cat who has just identified its next prey.

 “If I wanted to kill you right now, how would you stop me?” he inches closer. My mind falters: the knife. The knife. But I can’t use it. I don’t know how. What if I end up hurting him? I feel my head start to shake, the word “no” at the tip of my tongue. He sees the fear finally catch up. “Use it, y/n,” Ghost urges me.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the words are quiet on my lips. Tension fills my body.

“You won’t hurt me,” his words are immediate and almost cocky. The corners of his eyes crinkle from a cruel smile. Have I forgotten who he is? Don’t I know his reputation? He didn’t take his vest – his main source of protection off for no reason - I’m the furthest thing from a threat to him.

Ghost is done taking his time with me. He lunges forward with his arms outstretched. I make a last-ditch attempt at escaping by leaping toward the bed, but just as my foot touches the mattress a thick arm wraps around my waist and roughly pulls me flush against his chest. His other hand wrestles the knife from my grasp and as soon as the metal is gone from my hand, I feel the strangely familiar pressure of it against my throat.

“You’re not holding the knife properly,” he reprimands. Ghost’s chest pushes into me from behind and I can feel his arms flex as they constrict even tighter.

“Is this your idea of training me?” I bite back. Fear turns to frustration. How is it so easy for him to manhandle me like this?

“Come on, I know you can take it rough,” Ghost’s coarse voice brushes against my ear. “If you let the enemy touch you like this, you’re dead.”

“Then I guess I’m lucky it’s you,” thick sarcasm coats my tongue. I feel the hem of my shirt start to rise above my stomach as the electric heat from his body transfers through my skin. Then, just as fast as it happened, he lets go.

“Here,” he wraps my fingers around the handle in the proper position. “You’re not about to win a knife fight against a member of the task force. Your only goal is to create an opportunity to escape,” there’s a newfound seriousness to his voice. I turn around to meet his eyes. For a moment, I almost know what he’s thinking. If the Ultranationalist tries anything the next time he visits, Ghost won’t be there to protect me. I’ll be all on my own. This, and the wiretaps, are the best he can do.

“Okay,” I resign. “How?”

“You have to draw blood. Lots of it,” his lower lids squint as he gauges my reaction. How capable am I of violence? He hasn’t had the opportunity to witness that yet. If I’m being honest, neither have I. I’ve never been put in a position where I’ve had to hurt someone before. I don’t really know what I’m capable of. It’s a daunting possibility.

“Show me,” I force a nervous swallow as he closes the space between us. I feel my heart rate start to pick up.

“There are only two vulnerable spots that’ll slow him down when he’s wearing a vest,” Ghost starts to circle me. I don’t hear when he stops behind me. But I feel his large hand slowly snake around my hips, stopping on my stomach. His bicep flexes as he pulls me against his chest again. The back of my head is just level with his shoulders and I feel him bow down as the soft balaclava brushes against my hair. “His neck or his gut. Arms and legs won’t work, they’re not painful enough,” a shiver runs down my spine from his chilling words.

“They sound pretty painful,”

“Not enough. You need to do real damage,” the low vibrations of his voice against my skin makes the hair stand on the back of my neck. Ghost presses his fingers into the soft flesh between my hips and moves his hand back and forth in a straight line, tracing the vulnerable area. I can’t help the involuntary gasp that escapes my lips. “This is where you’ll aim. Drive the knife deep into his stomach and drag it across as far as you can. If he tries anything, I want you to spill his fucking intestines,” Ghost’s breathing deepens as he imagines the scene. His fingers press harder into my skin and some twisted part of me wants him to leave bruises, but not with his hands.

“Is that what you’d do?” the words are light on my tongue. Every part of my body he touches feels as though it’s about to combust.

“I will do so much fucking worse, y/n. When this is over and I get my hands on him, his own mother won’t recognize him. They’ll have to use his fucking teeth to identify him,” he growls. The pictures that flash through my mind are horrific. But some part of me likes it – knowing the extent that he is willing to go to for me.

There’s a palatable tension in the air. I can taste it: metallic and salty like iron. Like the desire for violence. Like the static before lightning strikes. I feel it radiating off him in waves that wash down between my shoulder blades. I believe every word from his mouth.

“Let’s try again,” I suggest, changing the topic.

Sweat rolls down my skin as we practise again and again for hours. Ghost lays out several different scenarios, from trapping me against the dresser to pinning me against the bed. He is relentless. But with every touch, every grab and push and shove and pull of hair, every time he presses himself against my hot skin, the desire to feel him in me grows even stronger. Sometimes I think he’s doing it on purpose. Because I know how much he likes to see his hands wrapped around my throat. And I know how he was filled with a jealous type of rage after that man had a knife pressed against the same spot. Every time Ghost’s hands pull me closer, it feels like I’m being reclaimed.

My heart pounds in my ears after so long without a break. When he pulls away after another round I finally collapse onto the floor, just for a moment, just to catch my breath. Ghost looks even taller from this spot as he watches me with his arms crossed.

“Get up,” he huffs, not nearly as out of breath as I am.

“In a moment,” even my voice sounds exhausted. My face is hot and I’m sure it’s flushed.

“I don’t want you lying on the floor,” Ghost grumbles. I feel the corner of my lips twitch at the thought that pops into my head.

“No?” I feign innocence. “How do you want me?”

“Watch your mouth y/n,” he snaps. Ghost steps around me to pace the room, but I don’t miss how he takes the opportunity to adjust his pants when he thinks I can’t see. A warm sense of pride blooms in my chest. He feels the same tension. The same desire as the night in the cabin. Maybe even stronger this time.

“I need to rest for a moment,” I lie my head on the floor while keeping eye contact with him. I can just see the edge of the black paint around his eyes, peeking out from under his mask.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got more in you than that,” there it is again. Sweetheart. I can’t even hide the effect it has on me. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from outright smiling. And it works. He has me up on my feet embarrassingly fast.

“Fine. Let’s go, I’ll win this time,” there’s fresh determination behind my words, but even I know they’re not true. I can tell he’s smirking by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. Ghost is enjoying this way too much. But I can’t lie, so do I. He knows.

Ghost comes at me fast. I know he’s holding back and yet his power is terrifying. He grabs me by the shoulders and whips me around toward the dresser. One of his hands tries to snatch away the knife, but I hold it just out of his grasp. Then he goes for my neck again as my back presses into the hard edge of the wooden dresser. Ghost is careful about the force he uses. He knows how easy it would be to seriously hurt me right now. His hands lightly hold my throat, just enough to immobilize me, but I know if this were any other man, I’d be in serious trouble right now.

With both hands occupied I take my chance and swing the knife toward his stomach. His eyes flicker down to watch the move. He still has time to stop me, yet his hands remain where they are. I let the tip of the knife gently drag across his shirt.

“You let me win,”

“It’s not ‘letting you win,’ it’s training you to take an opportunity when you have it,” Ghost’s eyes are back on mine, his hands still wrapped around my throat. He could’ve let go almost a minute ago and yet I feel his thumb gently rubbing up and down the tender skin just below my ear. “Besides, I was thinking about something else…” he trails off, a smug smile evident in his voice.

“And what’s that?”

“Places better than the floor,” Ghost keeps eye contact with me as he says this. I feel my stomach drop and that familiar ball of desire starts to form again.

“Better than the floor for what?” I furrow my brows in feigned confusion, but when he glances down my bottom lip is already drawn between my teeth. He knows he has me. There’s electricity in the air between us. Something magnetic simultaneously pulling us together, yet preventing us from connecting. I feel his hands twitch against my throat.

A low hum stems from his chest. “We could do this all night, sweetheart,” Ghost’s eyes darken. We’re close enough that I can see his pupils dilating and my reflection staring back at me in his eyes. I wonder what he sees as he looks at me.

“Yeah?” I murmur. “But we don’t have all night, do we? So, tell me what you want Simon,” my voice is low and seductive. Two can play this game. He pulls me closer. Our foreheads are almost touching as my hands find their place on the sides of his ribcage. The knife is still wrapped between my fingers.

“You already know what I want,” his voice deepens as his volume drops to a whisper. His scent wraps around me and reels me in. The metallic musk is warm and inviting. The scent of gunpowder no longer so alarming, but simply rather a part of him. But there’s something new about him too, something sweet and spicy that I can almost taste, that makes me want to wrap my lips around him and savour every part.

“I want you to show me,”

“I want to,” he barely whispers. “I don’t want to hurt you,” his grip tightens enough that I can start to feel the effects of his hands. My cheeks are flushed and my head feels lighter than before.

“I trust you. Then and now,” I run my hands up his strong arms before tracing the tip of the knife against the mask and along the outline of his lips. Ghost takes the blade from my hand and places it on the dresser behind me. A warm sensation spreads throughout my body as his hands travel down the side of my abdomen, past my hips and thighs, before wrapping around the back of them and heaving me up onto the sturdy surface.

“Are you sure about that?” Ghost asks as he rolls the bottom of his mask up and tucks it out of the way at his nose. My lower stomach turns to static as my eyes latch onto his lips. His tongue darts out across his bottom lip. I think about how soft they’d be as they glide across my own.

Ghost rubs the outside of my thighs as he presses himself between my legs. There’s that unmistakable twinge of desire from the soft pressure. It’s like every time I look at him, the sensation grows and clouds my better judgment. This is dangerous. Everything about him is dangerous. And yet he’s so alluring. When I stare into those dark eyes it feels like someone is draping a velvet curtain around me, completely blacking out the rest of the world. The only thing left, is him.

“Yes, sir,” I don’t hide the teasing smile that crosses my lips. I know how crazy it drives him to hear those words drip from my tongue. My hands travel across his broad chest as Ghost loops his arms around my back. His lips brush against mine tantalizingly slowly. I dwell on the sensation of his warm, damp skin moulding against my own. A fuzzy feeling encases me everywhere until I feel the familiar sharpness of his teeth skirting my bottom lip, revealing what he really wants.

He’s like a dog with a taste for blood. Once Ghost took my flesh between his teeth for the first time, he knew there was no going back. I feel that same hunger now as his sharp canines move from my lips to my neck. The serrated sensation is startling as he attaches his lips to the tender patch of skin just under my ear.

“Simon,” his name escapes as a breathy gasp. My mind starts to slip, but I can’t let him mark up my neck. “Not there.”

He hums against my throat, sending pleasurable sensations through every nerve. I want him to keep going so damn bad. But he can’t.

“He’ll see,” I can barely make out the words.

“Good,” Ghost mumbles against my skin.

“That can’t happen,”

“I know sweetheart,” he croons, slipping his hands under my shirt. “But you’ve no idea how much I want him to,”

“What?” I lift my arms as he slides the shirt over my head and drops it to the floor.

“When I think of those dirty fucker’s hands on you all I see is red. I want to bash his fucking head in until his skull is dust,” Ghost presses a delicate kiss to my collarbone with those vile lips. His hands gently caress my shoulder blades and run down my back, stopping at my bra strap. “If they knew you were mine, no man would dare touch you,” my lungs freeze from his words.

“Yours?” I ask and his head rises. Ghost’s hand leaves my back to cup my face. His charcoal eyes meet my own with an indescribable intensity. They’re incredibly dark and thrilling and full of desire. And there’s nothing like them - nothing like Ghost. The feeling he stirs within me is so unique, so completely irreplicable, that no other person will ever compare.

“My asset,” he rasps. “Mine,” his thumb brushes against my lips.

“Just your asset?” I already know his answer, but I want to hear the hushed words fall from his mouth.

“So much fucking more than an asset,” Ghost presses his lips against mine. I’ve witnessed the violence he’s capable of, so to feel him handle me with such a level of tenderness is all the more significant.

“Show me,” I whisper against his mouth. I feel the sharp breath he draws in and the accompanying hunger.

Ghost’s hands return to the back of my bra and skillfully release the clasp. I let the fabric slide off my shoulders, before dropping it to the ground. It’s almost as if I can physically feel his eyes rake down my body and take in the sight before him.

Ghost hands press against my back, arching me towards him as he bends over to attach his lips to my sensitive skin. I slide a hand up the back of his neck and under his balaclava and wind my fingers through his thick hair. The heat of his wet tongue glides around my nipple and goosebumps rise across my chest. Then I feel that familiar sharpness that causes my breath to hitch and I know he’s about to leave bruises. If anyone ever sees below the hem of my shirt, they will immediately know I’ve been marked - no, branded as his.

He revisits the faded hickeys from the night at the cabin while also adding to the growing collection. The large bruises from all those weeks ago have faded from my torso and legs. So, he paints over them with his own.

As Ghost works his way lower and lower, I reach for the neckline of his long-sleeve shirt and tug it upward.

“Use your words,” his cool breath fans against my hips.

“Please?” without answering me, Ghost pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, baring himself all to me. Last time the only light I had to see was from the glow of the fire. Now, every inch of ink, every freckle, and scratch and scar littering his upper body are exposed. Not a single mark diminishes his magnificence. And while his beauty is altered from war, he is more stunning than any man I’ve crossed paths with before. The power he holds is almost beyond comprehension. Time and time again he leaves me in utter awe.

My eyes drag across the artwork painfully etched into his skin as his lips tease even lower on my hips. The throbbing between my legs intensifies with anticipation. The pictures tattooed on him are a brutal reflection of the horrors he’s witnessed and committed - of the people he’s lost. Like some part of him was afraid of forgetting and this was the only he could ensure he’d remember. My hand is cold against his warm skin as I run it up his arm.

At the same time, he reaches for the button of my pants, unhooking it with just one finger. Careful eyes glance up for permission before sliding them down my legs. Then, he quickly loops a thumb around my underwear and pulls them down immediately after. Ghost rests on his knees as his arms wrap around my thighs and pull me to the edge of the dresser.

The warmth of his lips lightly brushes over the faded bruises on my inner thighs and just when I think he’s about to add more, I feel the heat move up between my legs and press hard against my clit. The mask and black paint frame his eyes as he peers up through my legs with a half-drunken gaze.

“So fucking wet already,” his deep voice vibrates against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Is that all for me, Sweetheart?”

“Yes sir,” the words escape as a whimper. He has me wrapped entirely around his finger. In this moment I would do anything for him. Anything just to feel him touch me, to feel him pulse inside me with as much need as I have for him.

“Atta girl,” Ghost hums and then presses his tongue against my clit in wavelike motions. The pleasure from his movements consumes me as my head is thrown back and I gasp for air. “Look at me, sweetheart. I’ll stop if you don’t look,” and when I do, every feeling intensifies even more.

Ghost traces a wet finger around my entrance before slipping it in as his tongue continues to work in circles. He gently teases another finger before adding it as well, slowly stretching me even more. Simon worries about all the ways he could hurt me; thinks of all the reasons he shouldn’t be trusted and yet I’ve never had someone take the care he does to make me feel so damn good.

The waves of pleasure coursing through my body intensify as he picks up pace.

“Simon,” I plead. “I-I’m close,” the words feel like prayers on my tongue and only one god can answer them.

My knuckles whiten as my hands desperately grip the edges of the dresser. He curls his fingers and hits that perfect spot. Tremors travel through my legs and I feel myself climbing closer and closer.

Simon presses his other hand onto my stomach and adds to the thrilling sensation even more. His starving eyes never leave mine. The vibrations of his soft groans against my very core are almost enough to send me over the edge.

The waves of pleasure grow stronger and the only things I can focus on are those reflective pools of desire. The rest of the world blurs and all that matters is him.

Simon’s fingers curl against me again and every muscle in my body tightens all at once before simultaneously releasing. Yet he doesn’t stop. Even when my legs latch around him and cage him in as I ride my high, he doesn’t stop.

My heart races and with every breath I take, the air feels cleaner, purer. My head feels lighter and a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And as my body relaxes, Simon stands from his knees. His forearm brushes against my bare chest as his hand wraps around the back of my head and his lips press into mine. I can taste myself dripping from his mouth.

“You’re mine,” Simon murmurs against my skin. The addictive spice of his cologne fills the air. It lingers closer to the nape of his neck and mixes with the heat of his skin.

“Yours,” I confirm. As he pulls away, there’s something different about his eyes, something undeniably possessive.  

Simon wraps his arms under my thighs and lifts me up with ease as my legs wrap around his back. My hands rest between his neck and shoulders. I let my gaze drop to the section of his tattoo that covers his shoulder and half his chest. There’s a collage of objects and events, a line of barbed wire seemingly wrapped around a man in a field. The sudden feeling of falling overtakes my senses and my entire body tenses as my back lands against the mattress.

His hands are still wrapped around my legs as he towers over the bed.

“Fucking hell,” Simon muses to himself. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

I feel that familiar pit in my stomach as he reaches for his belt. The quiet, clinking sound of metal fills the room and my heart rate starts to pick up. The tension in my lower stomach grows again as he moves to undo his pants and smoothly steps out of them.

I never thought I would enjoy allowing someone to have so much control over me. But as he stands over me and climbs onto the bed with a definitive goal in mind, I am willing to submit to whatever he wants.

The heat of his legs spreads to my sides as he straddles my waist. Simon has all the power in the world over me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Soft hands rest against his thick thighs as he considers the expression on my face. Wild hair frames my flushed cheeks. My lips are chapped as I draw them between my teeth at the sight of him. As his eyes continue down my frame, they proudly skirt across the marks garnishing my chest, past my hips, until he finally lingers on my hands gently rubbing circles into his meaty flesh.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Simon’s head tilts as he asks this. He grabs the tops of my hands and leads them up his thighs.

“I’ve a few ideas,” my voice cracks as I speak. I almost feel nervous again. As we reach the hem of his underwear, he slows but doesn’t stop.

“Every day,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “After every meeting with you, every time you grab my arm or whisper my name or look at me with those fucking eyes, this is what you do to me y/n,” he places my hands over the large bulge in his underwear.

I feel him throb under my hands as he strains against the fabric, aching to be freed.

“Every day I wrap my hand around my cock and imagine it’s yours,” Simon holds my hands in place as his hips subconsciously grind against the friction. “I think about what you felt like wrapped around me that night,” his voice is thick with desire. I feel myself gripping tighter as I long for his touch against my feverish skin. “No one’s ever done that to me before, y/n.”

“Simon,” my voice is unsteady. His eyes flicker up from our hands. “I need you.”

He leans down and cages me in with both arms, yet my hand never leaves his pulsing length. Simon’s breathing deepens as I stroke him above his boxers. He pauses, searching my eyes for something I’ll never understand. When our swollen lips meet and his tongue brushes against mine, I slip my fingers just past the band of his underwear. A low growl vibrates through his chest as my hand inches closer and finally grasps him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans as I pump his cock in my hand. The needy sounds escaping from his chest make me want him even more. As I trace my thumb around the head of his cock he starts to grind against my hand. “y/n.”

Simon grabs himself and slides his length along my entrance. I revel in the feeling of being trapped under him.

“Please Simon,” I whine as he teases me back and forth. The need to feel him is overwhelming. Fuck, he’s all I can think about.

“Look at me sweetheart,” Simon mumbles and as our eyes meet, I feel him push his throbbing tip in. “Does that feel good?” he whispers.

There’s a distinct tightness as he stretches me out perfectly around himself. Already I feel my walls clenching around him and he hasn’t even started thrusting. Simon slowly adds more length. He bites his bottom lip as he watches my expressions. He revels in knowing how feral he makes me.

“Oh, fuck,” the breathless words graze my lips. So damn good. Every small movement sends jolts of pleasure through my core.

Simon grabs my waist with his hands and starts to pick up speed. Each thrust feels like he’s reaching deeper within. And every time he hits that tiny bundle of nerves and I clench even tighter around him I feel like we grow even closer.

The muscles in his back flex as I wrap my legs around the vast space and pull him closer. My hands grasp his forearms cemented into the bed beside my head. My fingers and knuckles turn white from holding onto him so tight as his thrusts grow harder and harder. Fuck is he thrusting hard. Each stroke is so damn powerful that I can’t help the whines and whimpers that echo throughout the room.

As his intensity grows, so does the volume of my cries. Until a large hand wraps itself around my mouth and stifles the sounds. “Shh, can’t have anyone hear how good I make you feel,” Simon’s hot breath brushes against my ear.

His quiet grunts fill my ears as he picks up his pace even faster and he bows his head to the crook of my neck.

Every nerve in my body is overwhelmed with pleasure. His compelling scent fills my lungs. His desperate sounds reverberate through my ears. The pressure and friction of his body against mine are all too much.

I already feel another high coming.

Simon’s fiery lips latch onto my collarbones. As his head is bowed, I slip my hand behind the mask and feel his thick hair between my fingers. It's every small detail about him that drives me over the edge. His heavy breathing. How his hand presses hard against my mouth to stifle my moans. How hot his skin is against my own. Beneath my fingers, he feels so real.

Every thrust strokes that perfect spot so deep within me. I slip a hand between my legs and circle my clit. Behind my eyelids, stars explode with pleasure. I try and tell him how close I am, but the words don’t make it past his hand.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he moans into my ear. “I know you’re close,” Simon’s lips press against my ear. His sharp teeth gently tug at my lobe. Despite his hand, my moans grow even louder. He maintains a steady, powerful pace that rocks the bedframe and stirs my soul.

My hand circles around myself even faster to keep up with him. Every muscle in my body grows tenser and tenser. Inching closer and closer to a complete release.

I so badly want to close my eyes, but I know if I look away from him now, he’ll stop. I feel them well wet with tears from how fucking intense he makes me feel. The rest of his room, the base, and the world all disappear. All that matters is him. All I need is him. Simon. Fucking hell, Simon. My vision blurs and my walls tense harder than ever before.

Stars explode behind my vision as I stare into his eyes and I feel like I can reach out and touch his soul. White light blinds my vision and I feel my entire body freeze like I’ve been possessed by something otherworldly. Everything releases all at once and I ride the waves of pleasure that course through my bones. Simon replaces his hand with his swollen lips.

“You did so good sweetheart,” he rasps. But I know his mind is elsewhere right now. I sense how rock-hard he is in me. How his cock throbs with every thrust. I know he needs this as much as I did. How desperate he’s feeling right now.

“Don’t hold back, Simon,” I whisper into his ear. He pulls his head back to look me in the eyes. Being intimate with him has taught me just how much he values eye contact. This is how he connects. It’s not about sex, it’s about vulnerability. And this is a state he doesn’t let others see him in. Whether he’ll admit it or not, he trusts me.

I stroke his jaw and lock my legs around his waist as he quickens his pace. His breathing deepens and his hands tighten around my waist as he uses me as leverage to thrust even faster.

His lips part as quiet grunts and moans work their way through his chest. The soft sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. My walls clench around him. After my second, high every part of my body is even more sensitive. Feeling him inside me is borderline painful, but watching the look in his eyes is all that matters.

Simon’s thrusts begin to falter. His chest brushes against my breasts as he leans down and brings himself closer. His hands move to cup my face as his eyes bore into my heart. One last desperate moan escapes his lips as he presses his forehead into mine. He pulls out and finishes on the duvet before collapsing directly on top of me.

“Fucking hell, y/n” he mumbles into my neck. My hands wrap around his broad back and rest there as we both catch our breath. “You’re something else.”

A comfortable silence settles over us in the moments afterward. Simon gives me a Henley to wear and slips on his pants before settling back on the bed. His hands gently wind themselves through my hair as I lean against his chest.

I expect him to pull the balaclava back down almost immediately like he did last time. But he doesn’t. Simon leaves the fabric rolled up and his jaw exposed. As he rests his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling, I gently trace my fingers along the sharp feature and down his neck.

My mind drifts to all the possible reasons why he wears it all the time. Why none of his soldiers know what he looks like. Why even after being so vulnerable with me, he choses to keep it on. But I won’t ask. I know if I’m ever going to find out it’ll be because he feels the time is right. But I don’t think I’ll ever find out. Because I don’t think I’ll know him long enough.

The time on his watch reads 17:04. There’s just under an hour before I have to be back in my room.

The soothing motion of his hand brushing along my hair is almost enough for me to dose off. His breathing is slow and even. His heart thunders strong and healthy behind his ribcage. There’s something so sure about him. Something safe.

“Simon?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you read to me?” I think of his copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn that I skimmed across the other day. About the story of a boy who escapes an abusive childhood. Who finds freedom. And I wonder if he sees himself in the story. If he feels like he escaped.

“Would you like me to?” his low voice almost sounds tired.

“I would.”

He sighs as he reaches for the old beat-up book. Simon flips the worn pages open to a dogeared spot just over halfway through. He clears his voice and then pulls me further up his chest so his arms can wrap around my waist and hold the novel at the same time.

Simon’s voice is quiet and thick and comforting as he starts at the top of the page. I don’t know what events led here, but the characters sound troubled. My entire body relaxes and wishes we could stay like this forever. The looming threat of returning to my own room hangs over my shoulders, yet I try my best to push it away. Instead, I focus on the feeling of his warm skin against my cheek. Of the strength of his heart. I allow it to lull me almost, but not quite asleep.

“I couldn’t bear to think about it; and yet, somehow, I couldn’t think about nothing else. It got darker and darker, and it was a beautiful time to give the crowd the slip; but that big husky had me by the wrist,” Simon slowly reads the pages, leaving himself time to picture the scene.

My head moves with his chest as he breathes deeply. He’s like an anchor, holding me here, keeping me safe as the storm wages on around us.

His words fade and the room gets darker and darker.

When I wake up, I recognize my quarters.

And I recognize the looming shadow. His husky hand wraps around my wrist and demands my attention.

But this time, I’m expecting him.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire : Chapter 2

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Betrayal

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  2/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ava had returned with the wagon. Cassian briefly told the others what was going to happen. No one sat down in the presence of the Monk. The tension hanged in the air, and when the Monk began to wake you warned Cassian of it.

“He’s bound to a tree. What harm can he do?” he dismissed your warning and fear, making a mockery of it.

You hadn’t stopped staring at the Monk, at his markings that betrayed his secret. The others seemed to be unaware, or maybe they did not even care.

“Wake up, mutt.” Cassian nudged his head roughly. “Not so frightening now, eh?” he mocked him.

The Monk’s eyes opened and fixed on Cassian right away, then slowly he took in the situation he found himself in. Your blood ran ice cold at witnessing it, as if your body tried to warn you of the danger present. The Monk was far too calm to your liking, he looked even bored by the whole ordeal, as if it was an ordinary night for him.

Cassian walked to the black stallion and led it closer by the reins. “Looks like a strong animal. I wonder how long it would last if I cut off one of it’s legs.”

There was a slight change in the Monk’s eyes, they were sharper and focused on him.

The threat shocked you, “Cassian!”

The fury burned in Cassian’s eyes when he looked your way.

“We can use a horse.” you quickly blurted out to avoid his rage.

He held the reins out in your direction a little aggressively and you tried to keep a distance while fishing them out of his hands. Never would you admit it out loud that you might fear your own brother more than the Weeping Monk.

You led the horse away from Cassian and tied the reins to a tree, as you were petting the horse’s neck soothingly you became aware of the Monk’s eyes on you. It wasn’t hard to guess that the Monk was attached to the stallion.

Cassian continued to mock his captive, “Maybe I should cut your leg off and see how you’d fare.”

The Monk stayed eerily quiet, doing nothing more than study every single person present. Cassian pulled out his knife, dangling it in front of the Monk, then threatened to pierce it through his boot. The Monk didn’t even flinch, his icy stare far more intimidating than that simple knife. It bothered Cassian that his actions went without response, it was why he decided to punch the Monk in the jaw, who took it without a sound. Ava chuckled amused, part of her must have loved that twisted personality Cassian had.

“You’re a quiet one.” Cassian laughed and hit him again.

You hated to see the joy on his face when he was injuring someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just as you hated to see that same joy when he’d often hurt you. It felt so, so wrong.

“Stop it.” you said, all eyes turned to you. “It’s cowardly to attack someone who is bound.”

Your whole body tensed right after realizing what you had done.

Cassian scoffed insulted, “Are you calling me a coward?”

He stepped away from the Monk and stopped right in front of you. The backhanded slap you received was no surprise, but it didn’t hurt any less because of it.

Cassian sneered the words at you. “The only coward here is you. That bastard would kill you first of all, you can’t even defend yourself. That’s why you’re here aren’t you? Too weak and scared to survive on your own.”

Ava cruelly chuckled. Your eyes fell to the grass. Cassian looked so pleased to see you upset.

“Enough, Cassian. We need to focus on our plan.” Bertram was trying to draw the attention away from you.

Cassian looked at you like you were nothing more than the dirt beneath his boots, then walked away. “Just because you keep defending her, doesn’t mean she’ll pull you into the bushes with her.”

It was mortifying to hear the insinuation and the laughter that followed from Cassian and Ava. Bertram on the other hand looked away from everyone.

Cassian beckoned for Bertram. “Let’s get him on the wagon.”

You stayed with the horse, the only company you felt comfortable with in that moment. They got him loose from the tree but kept his wrists bound together in front of him whilst they moved him to the wagon. Ava kept her distance, she had bound a rag around her arm to cover the wound there.

Cassian held his sword ready but looked your way just for one blink and chaos erupted instantly. The Monk took the moment of distraction to cut loose the ropes on his wrists by moving them across the blade of the sword, he kicked Cassian to the ground immediately after. Ava was running towards Cassian to help, but you ran to Bertram when you saw the Monk turn on him next. He had already managed to disarm and steal Bertram’s sword, the poor Sky Folk barely stood a chance against him. It was reckless, but you had to try and help. You ran up to them and grabbed the cloak of the Monk, giving it a strong pull so Bertram could get to a safer distance. What you didn’t anticipate was that the Monk would switch targets so fast. You barely registered the hand wrapping around your lower arm, nor how the Monk had turned and caught you in his grasp. The fight fell to a sudden stop when the sword was against your throat, the Monk was holding you against his chest like a shield.

For the first time, the Monk let his voice be heard, “Stand down.”

He caught a whift of your scent by standing so close, there was an oddity in it that he could not place.

Cassian cursed under his breath, as did Bertram. The group kept their distance.

Next, the Monk demanded, “My swords.”

None of them moved to fetch the swords they had put on the wagon, they weren’t willing to offer him any more weapons than he already had. The Monk moved just a little and a whimper escaped you.

“Shhh…” he hushed. “Quiet.”

“Let her go.” Bertram said, eyes going back and forth between you and the Monk. “Just let her go.”

The Monk held on. “What is her life worth to you?”

“What?” Cassian asked incredulous.

“Is it worth yours?” The Monk tilted his chin in their direction. No answer came and he pushed them for one, “She risks her life to protect you, and you will not even consider doing the same for her?”

Ava kept quiet, gulping down the undeniable fear she felt. For a second, Bertram looked at you apologetic and your stomach turned.

“You can try to run. Or you can die with her. What will it be?” The Monk watched the group, waiting for their decision.

You saw all of them looking at each other and then they began to retreat. Slow at first, but then they ran. Bertram, the only friend you thought you had, abandoned you… leaving you to die at the hands of the Weeping Monk. Inside you were crumbling apart, broken by the betrayal, by how truly easy it was for them to give up on you. You were blinking fast, fighting the tears from showing. The group was gone, they had fled into the darkness of the forest, abandoning you in the grasp of the monster. The Monk stood still for a moment longer, undoubtedly noticing the response you had to the group forsaking you. Then he slowly walked with you to his horse where he retrieved a rope and used it to bind your wrists together in front of you. After taking another rope, he led you to a tree and forced you to sit down against it, he bound you to it.

You barely dared to stare up at him, and even when you did you only saw how his face was cloaked in the shadow of his hood. It reminded you of how some would describe a creature who came to collect the souls of the deceased. The Monk picked up his swords from the wagon, sheathed the shorter one but keeping the longsword in hand. He inspected the ropes binding you one more time before walking away, leaving you there at the mercy of the forest and possibly even wolves.

“No! Please, let me go!” You panicked when you saw him walk off.

He ignored the plea and soon he was out of sight and into the darkness of the forest. Fear engulfed your being. How long before you would starve, or perish from thirst? Or perhaps a wolf would find itself a tasty meal tied to a tree…

“You bastard!” your scream followed in his tracks.

But the Monk did not return.

    ~~~♤~~~♤~~~◇~~~♤~~~♤~~~

  Hours must have passed, it was dawn when you opened your eyes after having fallen asleep waiting for help that never came. You were still tied to the tree, but no longer alone. A frightened gasp escaped you when you saw the Monk stand near his horse, his back was turned to you, he was cleaning blood off of his sword with a rag he then discarded. Your eyes quickly scanned your body for signs of injuries but found nothing. But then where had that blood came from? He noticed that you were awake and walked over to you, sheathing the sword before stopping a few paces away.

“You are not Fey.” he stated.

Your eyes forced themselves away before they could betray the truth, your body shaking violently in fear of what he would do. You were defenseless like this, he could do anything he wished and you feared the worst.

The Monk spoke in a calm and even civil manner, “I found the Sky Folks. They have been cleansed.”

Ava and Bertram were dead? Your eyes fell on the bloodied rag.

“The man, Cassian, do you know where I will find him?” he asked.

You were quick to shake your head and kept your eyes fixed on the grass.

The Monk was determined to find the one who had acted so distasteful towards him. “I will find him.”

Could he sense that you were lying? You hoped he couldn’t. He came closer and stood near your boots quietly for a while, you worried he was trying to determine whether or not to kill you.

“You stole from us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” He arched a brow, questioning your sincerity.

You nodded shallowly. “Are you going to kill me?”

The Monk was quiet for the longest time, then he reached down and from reflex you flinched. Always prepared for a hand to strike. He was only inspecting to see if the ropes were still fixed.

He stated the facts. “The ring. I know you have it, Father told me he saw you take it. Where is it?”

“In my pocket.” you quietly said.

Right away he inspected your jacket for it. Well… it wasn’t in those pockets…

“Uhm…” You were wincing at the uncomfortable situation you were in.

He looked at your face expectantly.

It came out very quiet. “The pocket of my trousers.”

His hands were off of you instantly, he swallowed and was clearly trying to think of what he would do. You didn’t think he would look as uncomfortable as you were. A deep breath. “Which pocket?”

By nodding to your right, you gave him the answer.

He brushed his hand over his chin, then slowly reached over to try and search for the ring. But the moment you flinched again, he halted. “If you cooperate, I will show you mercy.”

To show that he meant it, the Monk loosened the ropes, freeing you. He must have been confident that you wouldn’t try to attack him, and you knew better than to try. You didn’t even dare to get up from the ground, it felt like your back was stuck to the tree.

“The ring. Hand it over.” He beckoned for it.

With trembling hands you fished it out of your pocket and held it out for him to take.

The Monk took notice of how you were avoiding eye contact and took the ring from your hand. He looked at it whilst interrogating you. “Why did you steal it?”

Because if you didn’t, Cassian or Aldith would either starve or beat you into submission again… Your silence persisted.

“Answer my questions.” his tone was firm.

“To earn a meal.” you hated to say it out loud.

“Poverty?” he asked.

Your father wasn’t poor at all… Yet you nodded, letting him believe his guess was right.

The Monk questioned you further. “Tell me what you know about the man you were with.”

“He was Sky Folk, the woman was his sister.” you said.

He must have known that you were being purposely avoidant. “Not him. The one who struck you. Cassian.”

Your brain tried to think of plausible lies quickly. Because you couldn’t tell him the truth and expect him to let you go after that. No, he would use you to lead him right to Cassian, to your home and neither Aldith or Cassian would be forgiving. “I only know his name and that he is a sellsword. I encountered him with the Sky Folks.”

The Monk was thinking up theories. “Did he force you to steal from our camp?”

You did not appear to be the sort of person who would be willing to take such risks voluntarily. There was not even a weapon on you.

You didn’t know how to answer. He was clearly waiting for one.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“You fear him.” It was a statement, he sounded so certain of it.

Not a sound came out of you. As if part of you feared Cassian was still around, watching this and waiting to see if you’d betray him.

He knelt down to your level, holding the ring up for you to see. “Stealing is a mortal sin.”

“I’m sorry.” The constant urge to apologize to avoid the violence was ever present.

The Monk dropped the ring into the grass and rose from the ground again, he walked towards his horse. You were still sitting against the tree and he stopped to look at you.

“Go.” he told.

“I’m free?” You couldn’t really believe it.

“Consider this clemency.” He paused. “I will not offer it a second time should we cross paths in a manner such as this again.”

You were starring openly at him now.

“Understood?”

“Yes…”

The Monk mounted his horse and you scrambled to your feet. For just a moment his horse seemed reluctant to follow his command, the animal was looking at you. He spoke to the stallion, drawing the horse’s attention back to him, “Goliath.”

Finally, the horse listened and the Monk slowly rode away. You were still in disbelief about it all when the sunlight reflected on the rubies of the ring he had left behind in the grass. You picked the ring up and were left to wonder why the Monk would even let you keep it. Was it because you had prevented Cassian from cutting a leg off of the horse?Regardless, if he had known of the Feyblood in your veins, he would not have shown you mercy. It took you a moment before you went and climbed into the wagon, maybe you should have waited to see if Cassian would return for it, but he hadn’t bothered to return for you either so you rode back to Ravenwick alone.

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[oceansssblue]

Can I request a Hunter x reader fic where they have a knife throwing contest? (You can choose who wins)

cool request! I'm down!

Decided to do a little flirty thing between a badass female reader and our sexy sargent. Note for everyone that requests me something; if you want speficically a female male or neutral reader do tell me! If not I'll jump to whatever I feel.

Hope you like it!

Xx,

Sky.

"A SHARP SMILE"

TBB REQUESTS –HUNTER/F READER 📩💖🔥

WARNINGS: PUBLIC KNIFE THROWING CONTEST, SEXUAL TENSION&SUGESTIVE (BUT NO SMUT), FLEETING MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL AND A SINGLE FLEETING REFERENCE TO PROSTITUTION.

Hunter carefully watched another round of the knife throwing contest develop in front of his eyes. Cid's Salon had been experiencing a drop in it's sales for quite a few weeks now; and after Tech's comment on how announcing special shows or activities could be an adecuate solution to such a problem, the Trandoshan had oficially inaugurated "Friday's Knife night". Tech had pointed out he had been alluding more to a special drink's discount or karaoke night; but Cid had waved an impatient hand at that, and claimed Ord Mantell didn't catter to the same "Coruscant's sweethearts". Hunter could only agree. The idea of the citizens in Ord Mantell singing a ballad was... Something.

The contestants were good for normal everyday people standards. Most of the knifes always ended up properly stuck to the wood board; though only a few of the participants were skilled enough to hit the borders of the –one round human, another round twi'lek, and so on– black siluete. He could tell who tried just for fun and who had had to use knifes before to defend themselves. None were good enough to match Hunter's seasoned abilities, though; which was the reason why he had comformed himself to remain a silent spectator instead of an active participant.

Almost an hour later, Cid announced the last contest of the night. Hunter studied everyone who payed the fee and wrote their names –and identifications– down on the list; wondering if he should just play in this last chance. There was nothing that ruled him out. He could inscribe himself and win the price; Omega could do with a new set of clothes, as she was outgrowing her current one quite fast. Hunter gulped down the leftover of his drink and patted Echo's shoulder; making his way towards the line.

Upon seing him, Cid rolled her eyes.

"Gonna double that bet, Broody?" she tempted him.

Hunter nodded with a shrug.

"That way I might be able to pay the exagerated fee you'll probably request from us next time" he smiled falsely sweetly, signing his name and turning to walk away towards the wood board.

Cid glanced at you waiting patiently on the line and smirked. Oh, was Broody in for a surprise.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You silently studied your competition. You needed to repair your bike and you were confident on winning that price. The bet was higher than the rounds before as well; the first place just had your name written on it. Plus, half of the participants were already embriagated at this point of the night. It wouldn't be too difficult, or so you hoped.

There were some new faces and some regulars. Your mind quickly divided the participants into three groups; real competition, like Raak –a duros you have had the bad luck to fight against with more than once in the past–, complete drunk disasters, and strangers you weren't really sure were to place that could be a potencial surprise. Like the male human clad up with heavy looking armour as if he was ready to jump on on an open battlefield anytime now; your eyes quickly detecting a vibroblade hidding in a compartment on his thigh. The guy certainly cut an intimidating figure; broad shoulders and trained muscles moving under his armour. His long hair –pushed back and away from his tattood face with a red bandanna across his forehead– didn't sweeten his looks; he still looked... A spicy kind of dangerous.

The corner of your lips inevitably tugged upwards. You've always had a nick for this kind of men; men who could ruin you but who you quickly put into place.

Right then and there, his eyes flickered over the room; quickly landing on yours, almost as if he could feel your stare.

You arched an eyebrow in half surprise, half amusement, and half defiance. Well, wasn't he some kind of well trained soldier or mercenary perfectly aware of his surroundings... You almost wished he could make you a run for your money; give the night some exciting real competition.

Your perspective on such a handsome attractive man would forever be tainted if he just made a dissapointing mess of his knife throws. Just in case he didn't, you threw him a quiet side smile.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hunter's eyes couldn't help but bore into the female stranger; watching without missing a beat how the woman carefully picked up a knife from the table of possibilities offered by Cid. She slowly examined the weapon, turning it around in her hand patiently; studying it's shape and weight while ignoring the muttering and impatient calls from the crowd around them.

She seemed to nod to herself and he took in the way she positioned herself in front of the wood board; stance impecable with her body slightly turned to the right side, fingers gripping the shiny end with just the needed amount of strength. With just that and the way she concentrated on the siluete –not her hand–, and how she retracted her right arm back before quickly throwing her knife forward, Hunter already knew she had done an good job. Still, he couldn't help but feel surprised at the precision with which the knife got stuck to the center of the chest markings on the twi'lek black siluete; and how she swiftly and calmly abandoned her stance as if it was nothing.

For the second time that night, the pretty woman catched his eye and arched her eyebrow towards him; as if she were asking him a silent "there, that's my shot. What about yours?".

Hunter's hand confidently grabbed a sturdier knife from the table and got into position. He was... Intrigued, for now; but he'd show her how it was done.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement and arousal at such a sight. The man –you have discovered his name was Hunter, appropiate for the way he moved and watched– is definitely not a dissapointment of any kind. Round after round, he had matched you outstandingly well; all of his knifes hitting the exact center of the targets, not letting you stand ahead of him for a single point. He glances at you each time he finishes a throw now too; indulging in your little game and warming up the blood in your veins. It has been a while since you felt this attracted to someone; more so with him being a total stranger.

When it's the other participants time to throw –Raak following the two of you closely behind– he casually stops besides you; his eyes never leaving the contest in front of you.

"How' you learnt to throw like that?"

His voice is deep and slightly husky. Oh, this couldn't get any better.

You keep your wits together regardless of your thoughts and reply just as nochalant.

"Life has a strange way of throwing shit at you" you answer, arms crossed in front of your chest, eyes on the board. "I prefer to throw my shit back at her".

He glances down at you, and you can't help but smirk quietly. You know it's vague, but you're not about to spill all your secrets. He'll have to work with that.

"What about you?" You ask back, this time letting your eyes drive up to his dark amber ones. "You gonna tell me you know your way around a knife like that just by being a model Ord Mantell citizen?"

He hums non-comitally, eyes boring into yours. You have to force yourself not to fidget at such intensity. He really is something.

"Thought my outfit gave it a way" he humours you.

It pulls a smile on your face. Yeah, he's not giving away unnecessary information to potencially dangerous strangers either. Well, at least he's smart and has a sense of humour; you'll give him that.

"Last round, handsome" you push your luck and teasingly move your very fingertips along his shoulder and down to his arm. He squints his eyes at you and you grin up to him innocently. "Better not get distracted".

Hunter hums and moves to pick up his last knife.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The man has, once more, impecably hit all of his knifes on each center of the human siluete target. You only have to repeat the same and you'll both split the price; it's not ideal, but you'll have just enough to fix your bike with the savings you've been keeping this past month.

After picking your knife up, you glance at him one last time. Maybe as a way of saying goodbye. If he's a sore looser, or if he simply doesn't want anything else to do with you, this would probably be your last time of enjoying the sight of such a specimen.

You don't expect to see him with his... Daugther, though. It's obvious the way they're related with how the blonde kid looks up at him; chatting up excitedly and the love and admiration she holds for him bright in her wide eyes. He chuckles quietly, slightly bent down towards her, and pats her shoulder affectionately. Behind the girl, three other men have approached the scene too; perhaps equally interested in watching the final wrap up. Perhaps to support Hunter. They're all wearing the same kind of armour; minor alterations, but it's obvious they're a squad of some sort. A family. And they all look at the kid exactly the same way.

You glance at her, and then down at the knife in your hand, a million thoughts speeding through your head. You haven't had the easiest of childhoods. War is all you remember for a big part of your life; your teens spent running away. You had been forced to adapt to the cruel ways of the galaxy very quickly; and with the options being either becoming a prostitute or an assassin, you had made the choice that finished moulding the person you are today. You're not proud; but you're not exactly regretful either. There are a few deaths you always carry in your conscience; but you mostly only accepted the requests you hand-picked yourself, so you've kinda done your part wiping your corner of the galaxy from scum. Not the prettiest of jobs, and certainly not one you would go proudly announcing around; but life's life. You'd like this kid to have an easier one; and by the way her family are head to toes covered in armour, ready to fight ay any given second, you're guessing it hasn't been going exactly that way til this point in time.

You catch Hunter's eyes staring at you. Your heart beats faster inside your chest. Your hand tingles.

You turn towards the target. You calmly position yourself. You take a deep breath; and then, your last knife flies to the target.

Laughs and cheers errupt around you. The blonde kid smiles.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Here you go, Broody" grumbles Cid, reluctantly pushing the pile of credits into Hunter's opened hands.

Hunter smirks.

"Bet all against me, huh?" he asks, inevitably happy.

Cid gives him the side eye.

"Well, my pockets would be full if my girl there didn't succumb to your supposedly good looks" she quotes with her hands, then roles her eyes. "I never quite understood the hype for humans anyway".

The Trandoshan walks away, still muttering a hundred of insults and dissapointed comments. Hunter doesn't feel a tad of guiltyness; Cid might not have won the bet, but she had definitely made good money on Tech's idea. The salon had been to the brim, drinks flowing around constantly. She really can't complain.

Hunter leaves the earned credits with his brothers and then turns to scan the lingering crowd. He quickly finds you talking to another participant near the entrance of the Salon. He excuses himself from his family and walks towards you.

You quickly wrap up your conversation with Raak with a forced smile, and once the Duros has reluctantly walked away, you turn to the approaching figure with a honest one.

"Ah, the man of the night" you chirp, roaming your eyes ever him quickly. "Got all those credits in a safe place?

Hunter glances back at Wrecker.

"Don't think anyone's gonna try to steal from him" he answers in good humour, and you nod in agreement.

You've never seen a human that big.

Hunter studies you quietly for a pair of seconds; then tilts his head.

"I admit the knife in the crotch was a good dramatic ending" he comments, then asks genuinely "Why did you let me win?".

You hum and take a look back at his family.

"Kid's cute. She yours?" You directly ask in return.

Hunter smiles.

"Sister" he explains. "More like an adopted daugther, now, though".

You can see the love he holds for her as well in the way he speaks and his features soften.

"Well, I've done some bad things in the past, but I still got a heart" you explain, trying to sound casual. Vulnerability is not often showed in planets like this. "You probably need those credits more than me".

Hunter is surprised; both by your reasoning and the fact that you're admiting it out loud to him. People aren't usually that honest and... considerate here. Or in the majority of places in the galaxy. This... Doesn't really match the idea of this dangerous –though sexy– woman he has in his head. This suddenly makes you more... human.

"What were you going to do with the price?" He asks, curiously.

You shrug.

"Repair my bike. I can usually do it myself, but I can't seem to find the problem this time".

Hunter hums. He doesn't take his eyes off of you.

"One of my brothers knows his way around mechanics pretty well. Maybe he could take a look at it, no need for extra payment."

That's sweet. You nod and smile up at him.

"I'd appreciate it".

You fill yourself with courage and take a tempting step towards him; right hand gently travelling upwards to rest in his chest plate.

"Now, why don't you follow me home for the night, mm? We can take a look at my bike tomorrow. Whatcha say?".

Hunter's turned on just by the fact you have been the one to ask. He has certainly had his fair number of situationships in the past; but he usually always have to be the one to make the first move. This time, however, he seemed to have catched your eye since the start; and you're decided to see this attraction through. He likes that, a woman that is self-assured and knows what she wants. He's happy it's him for this night.

He exchanges a glance with one of his brother's –the one with the headseat and the scomp– and then makes a polite gesture with his hand. He smirks playfully. You already know you'll be having a good time.

"Lead the way, mesh'la".

THE END.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wohooo! This spicy little one was so much FUN to write! I hope you all liked it as well, specially the user that requested it.

I'll publish a Tech Mermay long oneshot TODAY AS WELL; and the next one planned will be a Wolffe one.

Stay tunned!

Xx,

Sky.

Back to my main masterlist here:

[izzymissi]

🩸🩸Bela Dimitrescu x Femreader Spicy Fanfic🩸🩸 NSFW MINORS DNI

Since bela won the vote i wanted to make something spicy with her

TW: Blood play/Knife play (like lots of blood). Rough/Dominant/Marking/Pain

The air in the room is thick with tension as you carefully handle Bela's prized sickle. You sit on the edge of her bed, fingers trembling slightly as you wipe the gleaming blade clean. Bela watches you intently from her armchair, her eyes fixed on every movement you make. Her gaze is sharp and intimidating, and you can almost feel it burning into your skin. You try to focus on the task at hand, but the weight of her presence makes it nearly impossible.

You can't help but feel nervous, your heart pounding against your chest. You dare a quick glance at her, only to see a small smirk playing on her lips, clearly enjoying how jittery you are. Finally, you finish the task, the sickle now polished to perfection. With shaky hands, you extend it back to Bela, hoping that your nerves aren’t too obvious.

Bela stands up slowly, her movements graceful and predatory as she takes the weapon from your hands. Her eyes never leave yours as she inspects the blade, and for a brief moment, you think you catch a flicker of approval in her gaze. Then, with a cold, playful glint in her eyes, she instructs, "Stay still."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You freeze in place, obediently doing as she says, though every fiber of your being is screaming for you to move. Bela raises the sickle, its edge gleaming in the dim light of the room. She takes her time, running the cold metal along your leg, pushing the hem of your skirt higher with slow, deliberate movements. The anticipation is almost unbearable as you feel the sharp edge pressing against your skin.

Then, without warning, she makes a small, precise cut on your thigh. You gasp, the sensation a sharp blend of pain and something else—something that makes your heart race faster. Bela hums approvingly, her eyes darkening as she watches a thin line of blood well up. "Good," she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. She leans in, licking the blood from the sickle, her gaze locked onto yours with an expression that is both seductive and predatory. You tremble under her stare, terrified yet strangely aroused, unable to look away.

Her smirk widens as she sees your conflicted state, the thrill of control evident in her eyes. With deliberate slowness, she makes another cut, this one deeper. You cry out softly, the sting more intense this time, and you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. Bela chuckles, clearly amused, as she leans down close to your ear. "Do you enjoy this?" she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.

You stutter, blushing furiously, your mind scrambling for words. Her question lingers in the air, and the realization of how much this excites you makes your face burn with embarrassment. Bela laughs softly, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. "So shy," she murmurs before pushing you back onto the bed, straddling your waist. Her eyes are dark with hunger as she leans in, her lips capturing yours in a heated, demanding kiss.

You gasp at the feeling of her teeth nipping at your lower lip, and she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is rough and passionate, leaving you breathless. Her hands pin your wrists above your head, her grip firm yet strangely gentle. "Be a good girl," she commands, her voice low and dangerous. "Stop squirming."

Your head spins with the sensation of her lips on yours, the intensity of her kiss making it impossible to focus on anything else. As you try to comply, she shifts, trailing kisses down to your neck. Her lips brush against the sensitive pulse point, making you shiver. "You smell delicious," she purrs before sinking her fangs into your skin.

You moan, your body arching against her as she feeds. The sensation is a strange mixture of pain and pleasure, and you can feel her hum against your neck, clearly enjoying the effect she has on you. Your mind goes blank, lost in the overwhelming sensations as she drinks deeply. After a moment, she pulls back, letting out a soft, satisfied moan. Her lips are drenched in your blood, and she licks the wound, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Good girl," she praises, her voice dripping with amusement. Her mouth curls into a smile as she slowly moves down your body, never breaking eye contact. You squirm, your heart racing as she reaches your legs. She spreads them apart with ease, her hands strong yet delicate. The feel of her fingers scratching down your thighs makes you whimper, the sting of each scratch bringing a sharp burst of pain followed by an unexpected rush of pleasure.

Bela presses a series of kisses along your legs, each one followed by a strong bite. You blush furiously, eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in the sensations. Her touch is electrifying, each scratch and bite sending jolts of pleasure through you. You grip the sheets, trying to ground yourself, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

After several stinging bites, you feel her hand hovering over your panties. You open your eyes to find her looking at you, a wicked smile on her lips. Your legs are covered in bloodied scratches and bite marks, one of them draped over her shoulder as she digs her nails into it, clearly relishing the effect she’s having on you. Her mouth still glistens with your blood, her expression one of amused delight.

"Tell me what you want, pet" she teases, her fingers brushing lightly over the fabric of your panties, drawing a strangled gasp from you. Her other hand continues to scratch your skin, leaving trails of red down your stomach. "Be a good girl and beg for it."

Your face burns with embarrassment as you struggle to form the words. The shame and the thrill of her command make your head spin. Finally, you manage to stammer out your plea, your voice trembling with need. Bela's grin widens, her eyes gleaming with victory. "Such a good plaything," she coos as she slides your panties down, her tongue darting out to tease your clit.

You cry out, hips bucking against her mouth as she begins to lick and suck, the pleasure overwhelming. Bela’s grip on your hips tightens, her nails pressing into your skin, marking you even more. "Stay still," she orders, her voice muffled but commanding. You obey, biting your lip as you try to control the trembling of your body.

Her tongue moves expertly, swirling and flicking over your sensitive clit in a way that has your mind reeling. She circles slowly at first, teasing you with light touches, before pressing harder, sucking you into her mouth. The pressure is maddening, a blend of pleasure that makes you moan and writhe beneath her. Your hands fly to her hair, tangling in the blonde strands as you whimper, struggling to keep still under her relentless attention.

Bela hums against you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through your core. Her tongue laps at you with precision, alternating between slow, deliberate licks and quick flicks that leave you gasping for breath. When you think you can't take any more, she slides a finger inside you, curling it against your inner walls. The intrusion is sudden and electrifying, making you arch off the bed with a sharp cry.

"That's it," she murmurs, her voice vibrating against your skin as she adds another finger. "Take it, like a good girl." Her fingers pump inside you steadily, her tongue never ceasing its torment on your clit. The combined sensation is overwhelming, a building storm of pleasure that leaves you breathless and on the verge of losing control.

Bela quickens her pace, her tongue dancing over your clit with increasing fervor. Her fingers curl and thrust in a rhythm that has you gasping, the tension in your belly coiling tighter and tighter. Your moans become louder, more desperate, as you feel yourself teetering on the edge. Bela senses your impending release, her eyes glinting with triumph as she redoubles her efforts, pushing you to your limit.

When your orgasm finally crashes over you, it's explosive, a rush of pleasure that leaves you trembling and crying out her name. Your vision goes white for a moment, the sensation so intense that you lose yourself completely in it. Bela doesn't let up, her tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you're left gasping and shuddering beneath her.

Just when you think you can't take any more, she pulls away, her mouth glistening with your release. Her eyes are dark and hungry as she watches you, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Good girl," she purrs, her voice thick with satisfaction. Without giving you a moment to recover, she bites down on your thigh, her fangs sinking in deeply. The sharp sting sends another surge of pleasure through you, mixing pain and ecstasy into a heady cocktail that leaves you crying out once more.

Bela drinks deeply, her moan vibrating against your skin as she feeds. The sensation of her mouth on you, the sting of the bite, and the aftermath of your orgasm swirl together, leaving you lightheaded and utterly at her mercy. When she finally pulls back, her lips are stained red with your blood. She licks the wound gently, savoring the taste as she crawls up your body.

She captures your mouth in a heated kiss, her tongue pushing past your lips, allowing you to taste the mix of your own arousal and the metallic tang of your blood. The kiss is rough, demanding, as if she's claiming every part of you. You moan into her mouth, too dazed and overwhelmed to resist, her dominance and hunger leaving you utterly breathless.

Bela's hands roam your body, tracing the fresh scratches and marks she left on your skin, each touch sending a new wave of sensation through your already sensitized nerves. You can feel the warmth of her fingers pressing into your flesh, her possessiveness clear in every stroke. She holds you close, her nails raking gently down your sides, leaving trails of red that burn with delicious intensity.

Breaking the kiss, she hovers above you, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and desire. "So beautiful," she murmurs, her voice husky as her gaze sweeps over your trembling form. "Covered in my marks… perfect." Her words send a shiver of pride and arousal through you, and you find yourself blushing under her praise, unable to look away from her piercing gaze. "Good Girl," she murmurs against your lips, her voice filled with dark satisfaction. "I think I’ll have you clean my sickle more often."

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Build Steamy Sexual Tension With Any (Potential) Lover

Whether you're seeking to ignite a new flame or rekindle the hot-and-heavy passion in your long-term relationship, here are some must-know tips, tricks, and spicy strategies to build sexual tension with any prospective or reliable lover.

Set The Stage: Create a date night (or daytime) atmosphere that sets the mood. This could be a nice meal or a glass of wine in a candlelight setting or dim lighting with sensual music and plush seating or pillows. Dress to impress in an outfit/hair & glam look that makes you feel like the hottest person in the room. Wear your hottest matching lingerie underneath your outfit paired with a seductive perfume and/or scented lotions & hair mist. Feeling clean & well-groomed also helps get both of you in the mood.

Master The Art of Direct Eye-Contact: Convey confidence and show your partner they have your full attention. Maintain strong eye contact when they speak. Allow it to linger a bit longer and during natural conversational silences to build tension stronger than the curl of your lashes.

Embrace Seductive Body Language: Look up at them from a downward gaze, twirl your hair, subtly touch, bite, or lick your lips, and offer suggestive side glances/look away every now and then throughout your conversation. Lather your hands in an upward motion (as you would with soap) as your (prospective) partner is speaking during this tension-building interaction. Touch the nape of your neck or collarbones as they speak.

Tease with Playful Touch: Break the physical barrier with a subtle touch on the shoulder, thigh, knee, or with your foot (either under a table or while next to each other). Allow your partner to exchange the favor before becoming more frequent with your subtly handsy advances. Once this level of comfort is well-established work your way inward with your hand or foot placements to initiate the desired hot-and-heavy tension.

Ask Engaging Questions. Dive Deep: Inquire about their day, highlights of the week, plans they're looking forward to, their hobbies, interests, favorite books, foods, places they've traveled to, important people in their life, experiences that hold significance in their heart/mind, dreams, places they want to travel to, and goals for the future. Listen intently and follow up with thoughtful questions to get to understand their emotive experience/learn more about who this person is at their core. Stimulate the most influential sex organ – it will always be the mind.

Get Creative with (Subtle) Innuendo: Find flirty ways to subtly include naughty comments or insights in your more colloquial conversations. Be clever, not overt and crass with your approach. References to food, music, travel, style, movies/theatrics all work well to showcase your intellectual and sexual prowess.

Use Your Body As A Conversation Starter or Discussion Topic: The fit or feel of your outfit, the softness of your hair, smoothness, and the scent of your skin. Allow the other person to anticipate and fantasize about the outcome of this interaction – what it would feel like to fully interact with these belongings or elements of your being as the conversation gets steamy and things become hot and heavy.

Relish in the Seduction. Enjoy The Slow Burn: Don't try to rush or force the sexual tension. Allow it to build slowly throughout a conversation or evening. Change up the pace of your conversation – embrace moments of intense conversation, lingering pauses, and intense sexual tension (from either your dialogue, touch, or an undescribable burning desire that feels like it could be cut with a knife due to your relational chemistry)

Leverage Flirty & Dirty Talk via Text: For when you can't be together in IRL, a sexy text can immediately build tension. Share some of the dirty thoughts you're thinking about them, flashbacks to any memorably hot experiences between you two, things you want to do with them later, any sexual innuendos that have you thinking of them throughout your day or week, a sexy song lyric, fantasies you want to explore with them, etc.

Embrace the journey and sensory exploration. Don't focus too much on the outcome. Enjoy the ride of learning about each other's sexual turn-ons, fantasies, bodies, and communication styles. Don't rush. Think of it like a game where neither player can lose. Explore the depths of each other's minds while allowing this submission to overtake your bodies. Remember it's all in the tease.

[clockwork-ashes]

Day 7 - Free Day

Note: thank you to the lovely mods of @erisweekofficial for such an amazing event!!! i had so much fun, and i can’t wait to catch up on all the wonderful creations <3

Summary: Eris no longer wants to ignore the connection he feels with Cora (one-shot). All 7 (!!!) of my eris week one-shots can be read on Ao3 <3

Another Note: cora is an OC who heavily features in my elucien multichapter fic! she acts as elain’s lady’s maid while she’s stuck in the autumn court, but her and eris became very close ;) this can be read as a standalone, it’s just a spicy little one-shot <3

All You Have Is Your Fire taglist: @sad-scarred-sassy / @teddyhoneybear / @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Join me tonight.

Eris had whispered the words against the smooth arch of Cora’s pointed ear. His lips had brushed the skin lightly, a promise of what could be if only she agreed. His head had been bowed, shoulders curled towards her as if he had been pulled closer by an invisible thread. She had slipped from his grasp, water through his fingers, her dark skirts trailing in a river of fabric as she walked away. 

Impress me, and perhaps I will. 

Her rich voice had echoed in the empty corridor as she had chased the sound of the orchestra’s music. Cora had moved like a predator, silent and precise, each of her steps graceful. She was a queen, royalty in hiding. 

Eris had been given no choice but to follow her, an amused tilt to his mouth. She had smelled of spruce trees and mountain air, her scent lingering on the velvet of his jacket the entire evening. It had been a welcome distraction. He had, for the first time in weeks, forgotten about the mess his younger brother had gotten himself into. 

Lucien had danced with his mate, Elain having managed to impress the vicious courtiers of Autumn with little more than a practised spin. Cora had spent most of the night at Eris’s side, drinking wine in small sips and glancing at him over the rim of her glass. The tension between them could have been cut with an ash-tipped knife, a near irresistible desire had made it difficult for him to focus, but he had tried his best.

Time had moved slow as honey, and when Elain and Lucien left the ballroom holding arms as though they were in love, Eris decided he would not be staying either. He offered Cora his hand, not really expecting her to reach out. She linked their smallest fingers together in a gesture Eris found both surprising and endearing, winnowing them into a different part of the Forest House with very little effort. 

“We stop at my chambers next,” Eris warned, wanting to make it abundantly clear what he wanted, hoping Cora felt the same. She was hard to read, her brown eyes revealing nothing. 

She looked up at him with a raised brow, one of her hands resting on her hip in a way that accentuated her figure beneath the conservative dress she wore. “You’ve changed your mind, prince?” There was a challenge in her tone, as if she would have argued had he suggested such a thing. 

Eris shrugged, feigning indifference. “Don’t feel obligated, I would hate for you to feel…used.” While his words might have sounded cold, he meant them. He was fully aware of her position as a lady’s maid, and of the fact that she served another High Lord. He recognised the power he possessed, and he did not wish to coerce Cora into his bed. 

Instead of responding, she took a measured step towards him so that their toes were nearly touching. There was an angry twist to her mouth as she lifted a hand and brought it to his lapel. She adjusted the fold, her fingers toying with a button on his shirt. 

Eris felt as the breath caught in his throat, desire thrumming in his bones, barely leashed. He wanted to see her long hair wrapped around his fist, to feel her body against his own, and to hear the sounds she made while in the throes of pleasure. 

Cora smiled, the expression looking more like she was baring her teeth. White as bone and sharp as a knife, her canines flashed in the dim lighting of the hallway. “I don’t answer to you, Eris Vanserra, first son of Autumn.” 

At the sound of his name falling from her lips, Eris closed the distance between them. Eyes shut and the sweet taste of her against his tongue was overwhelming. She clutched his jacket, using him for balance as he threaded desperate fingers through her hair, keeping her in place for better access. 

Cora gasped, her soft moan muffled as he deepened the kiss, winnowing them both to his bedroom in a flurry of dancing embers. He fisted the fabric of her skirts, searching to feel the skin of her thighs, their newfound privacy making him bold. Her hands were locked around his neck as she fought for dominance, nipping at his bottom lip in warning. 

Eris moved to the skin below her jaw, taking pleasure in the way she pulled on his jacket, urging him to take it off. He threw it to the floor, untying the cloth at his throat with quick fingers. He briefly wondered if she would let him use the piece of fabric in other ways, but all his thoughts scattered at the way she tugged at the strands of hair on the nape of his neck. He moaned appreciatively, encouraging her to be as rough as she wished. 

Eris trailed his lips along her collarbone, licking and biting at the exposed skin of the tops of her breasts. He was hard, he noticed, his length pressing painfully against the seam of his pants. He yanked at the laces tied carefully at the back of her dress and she arched into him with a sigh. 

“Cora,” he murmured, her name unbelievably familiar as it rolled off his tongue. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes still shut as he swallowed. “Cora, tell me to stop.” 

The Night Court female brought a hand to his cheek, running her thumb along the sharp plane of his face. He ached all over, his muscles tense as he waited for her consent once again. “I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered, tugging his head back down. 

Eris smiled against her lips, grabbing the backs of her thighs to lift her into his arms. Cora hooked her legs around his waist, her slippers falling to the floor to join his discarded jacket. He nearly stumbled on the edge of the carpet as he carried her to his bed. 

They fell in a tangled heap onto the mattress, his arousal hard against her core. She ripped at his shirt, buttons hitting the ground like rain water. Each of their actions was desperate, as if they had been drowning and were coming up for air. Eris moved her skirts, adjusting the fabric so that he had better access to the space between her legs. Cora tilted her hips up, giving him the permission he needed. He gave her no warning as he slipped two fingers between her slick folds. She hummed in approval, grabbing his wrist to show him what she liked. 

He continued to move his fingers at the pace she set, using his magic to strip them of the rest of their clothes. Eris pulled away, wanting to get a better look at her. Cora made a low sound of objection, clearly not wanting him to stop. While the thought satisfied him, his overwhelming need to see her was stronger. 

There was a scarlet flush to her brown cheeks, her straight hair a tangled mess along his pillows. Her pupils were blown wide and her lips were swollen. She took Eris in hungrily, her dark eyes falling to his length almost involuntarily. 

“Beautiful,” Eris said softly, loud enough for her to hear. 

Heat blazed in her gaze, and the candles on the nightstand flared brightly in response to the inferno raging inside him. Cora reached for him, her palms skimming his shoulders to once again rest on his neck. Eris hovered above her until she pulled him closer, arching her back so that she could press herself fully against him while they kissed. He groaned, his grip on her leg tightening as he carefully angled the tip of his length at her entrance. 

Before Eris could give her the option of going slow, Cora has already shifted, taking more of him suddenly. She moaned into his mouth, Eris gasping at the feeling of her walls around him. He moved inside her, and she gave herself over completely to the steady rhythm he had set. 

Cora’s fingers fell lower on his back, her nails dragging against the skin. He felt the way she tensed beneath him, and nearly hit his head against the bed frame in his rush to move away from her. If something was wrong, if she wanted to stop—

Cora did not let go of him, her strong legs keeping him in place. She looked up at him, the question bright as starlight on her lovely features. Eris belatedly realised that she was tracing the length of a long scar with the tip of her finger. He relaxed into her arms, pressed his face into the crook of her neck so he would not need to face her. “Lashes,” he said against her skin, his movements becoming more desperate as he neared his climax.

Punishments.

Eris did not need to say it out loud, but he could practically sense understanding wash over her. Her touch instantly became more gentle as she took his chin in her hands to tilt his head in a way where he could look up at her. Cora brushed her thumb along his bottom lip. “Beautiful,” she murmured, kissing him sweetly, stunning him into silence. She was careful with her touches, handling him with care, as if he were easily breakable. 

Eris felt drunk, desire fogging his thoughts. He continued to move at the pace he had set, her hips meeting his with every movement. He brought his one hand back between her legs, stroking in time with his thrusts, wanting her to break first. 

“Eris,” she gasped, his name uttered in a strangled moan. He felt her walls clench around him, pressing his hips flush against hers as he saw stars. Her pleasure was enough to bring him to the edge. He bit down on his tongue, tasting copper as he stifled a cry. 

They stayed tangled together for a moment, Cora’s legs still wrapped around his waist loosely as he remained seated inside her. There was blood rushing to his ears, and her heart was beating rapidly, perfectly matching the rhythm of his own. Eris moved first, falling onto the mattress beside her with all his weight. The ragged sounds of their breathing broke the silence, but neither of them spoke. 

For the first time in centuries, Eris had let someone share his bed as he slept, unguarded. The night carried, and his rest was dreamless. When he woke in the morning, Cora was already gone. 

[elysiaheaven]

𝗕𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲.?-𝟮𝟳-(The Fox's Wedding)

Words:2279

Mentions of Gorey scenes, Beheading, Blood etc

It is a headless existence

Mimicking the gods of humans 

Like the whispers on the wind From a shakuhachi flute

 For, say, the worthless creations Of the gods who do not praise us 

"We are masters of our fate and we don't need the gods to aide us!" 

People tell the stories only

Of the gods that they believe in

Too late...

As the chaos in the room reached its peak, the clash of destinies was imminent. Hoolay's malevolent laughter echoed through the chamber, a harbinger of the devastation he was about to unleash.

The tension built like a storm cloud on the verge of breaking. Hoolay's eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction as he turned his attention back to Jiaoqiu. With a swift, brutal motion, he drew his blade and slashed across Jiaoqiu's chest. The attack was precise, leaving a deep, bleeding gash that brought a pained cry from Jiaoqiu.

You watched in horror, the sight of Jiaoqiu's suffering cutting through you like a knife. The anguish in your heart was almost unbearable, but Hoolay's cold voice cut through the chaos.

"There is a way to save him," Hoolay said, his gaze shifting to you with a chilling intent. "But it comes with a price."

You looked at him, confusion and fear mingling in your eyes. "What do you want?"

Hoolay's lips curled into a sinister grin as he approached you, the darkness of his intentions clear. He grabbed you by the throat, his grip like iron. "Just like my brother, who you killed, you will die a death of beheading."

The weight of his threat was suffocating. You felt a cold dread seep into your bones as he tightened his grip, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The room seemed to spin around you, the edges of your vision blurring.

In your desperation, you turned to Jiaoqiu.

Jiaoqiu's eyes were filled with a mix of pain and sorrow. But before he could respond, you pulled him close, hugging him tightly. The words that escaped your lips were a whispered confession, a final plea for solace amidst the darkness.

"Though our bodies have been lost, in exchange we've found true love," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Black in color, in a state of half awake and half dreaming..."

You looked up at him, your gaze pleading. "Would you hold me one last time?"

The weight of your words hung in the air, a hauntingly beautiful contrast to the bleakness of the moment. Jiaoqiu's eyes were filled with a deep, unspoken understanding as he clung to you, the last flickers of hope and affection in a world gone dark.

With a final, heart-wrenching glance, you turned to face Hoolay. The coldness in his eyes was unyielding, but there was a glimmer of something—perhaps a twisted form of respect or a recognition of the bond you shared with Jiaoqiu.

Hoolay's voice was a cruel mockery. "Walk with me," he said, his grip on your throat unrelenting. "Witness the end of your futile struggle."

With a final, desperate glance at Jiaoqiu, you began to walk alongside Hoolay. 

A child's long sword of dream, the love of the cherry blossoms 

 The dance of the charming star lilyThe shining moon overlapping the swaying flowers

 Projecting these never reaching feelings

It will never reach him....

The day was perfect—sunny and warm, with a gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers through the open windows. You stood in the kitchen, staring down the ingredients in front of you like a warrior preparing for battle. The task at hand? Cooking something spicy for Jiaoqiu. Despite your fierce determination, it seemed the more you tried, the more chaotic the kitchen became.

It was on the day of the Fox's wedding......

Jiaoqiu leaned against the counter, watching your increasingly frustrated movements with an amused smile on his face. "Are you sure you don't want my help?"

You huffed, stirring the pot in frustration. "I've got this! It's just cooking... How hard can it be?"

But as the aroma of burning spices filled the air, your confidence started to falter. The fiery mixture bubbled angrily, refusing to cooperate with your best intentions. You glared at the pot as if it were a foe that needed to be defeated. "Why is it doing that?" you muttered, wiping sweat from your brow.

Jiaoqiu stepped forward, his movements graceful and calm as always. He gently took the spoon from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "It's because you're treating it like a fight," he said softly. "Spicy food is about balance. Too much, and it overwhelms everything else."

You sighed, watching as he effortlessly adjusted the heat and added a small amount of spices. "I like chaos," you muttered, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "Chaos has its place, but not in cooking. Let me show you."

As he guided your hand to add the right amount of seasoning, you found yourself less focused on the food and more on the way his touch lingered, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. He had a way of making everything feel like it was going to be okay, even in the midst of your culinary disasters.

Once the dish was under control, he stepped back and smiled at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "See? It's not so hard when you take it slow."

You grinned back at him, feeling a little lighter now that the fire in the kitchen had died down. "Alright, Mr. Calm and Collected, I'll give you that one. But since you helped me with cooking, it's only fair I get to help you with something."

He raised an eyebrow, curious. "And what would that be?"

Without hesitation, you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the open space in the living room. "Dancing, of course!" you declared with a mischievous grin.

Jiaoqiu's eyes widened in mild alarm. "Wait, no—"

But you were already leading him into an impromptu dance, twirling him around clumsily. He stumbled slightly, clearly out of his element. "I don't know how to dance!"

"Exactly!" you teased, trying and failing to hide your amusement at his awkward steps. "That's why I'm teaching you!"

You took a step back, dramatically mimicking a dance instructor. "Alright, three, four, getting up and falling over... Are you giving up already, Jiaoqiu? Or are you just frustrated because you can't keep up?"

He gave you a playful glare, clearly not used to being on the other side of a lesson. "I'm entirely unable to dance well," he admitted, trying to keep pace with your random movements.

You laughed, pulling him closer and guiding his hands to your waist. "Come on, try again. I'll teach you."

The awkwardness between the two of you melted away as you swayed together, finding a rhythm that was all your own. His hesitation disappeared as he focused on you, following your lead as you spun him around in what could only be described as a chaotic waltz.

"Aa, God please do," you whispered, a small smile playing on your lips as you gazed up at him. "I wish to have this forever."

Jiaoqiu's expression softened, and though he still stumbled over his steps, there was a warmth between the two of you, a quiet understanding that transcended the need for words. The dance wasn't perfect—it was messy, full of stumbles and laughter—but somehow, it felt right. In that moment, under the sunlight streaming through the windows, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, dancing together in your little bubble of happiness.

Eventually, the music faded, and you stopped, still holding onto each other. Jiaoqiu looked at you with a rare, genuine smile, his usual composure replaced by something softer, something more real.

"You're not so bad at this," you teased, your breath a little short from all the spinning.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll leave the dancing to you. But if you ever need help in the kitchen again..."

You laughed, pulling him closer once more, your heart feeling light as a feather. "Deal."

Necks are so itchy, itchy, itchy!

writhing in agony will you give up?

Frustrated you become perverse

You and Jiaoqiu sat together The setting was peaceful, but the mission at hand? Less so. You had decided it was time for Jiaoqiu to learn something new—singing.

Jiaoqiu shifted uncomfortably as you hummed a soft melody to him. He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of his own abilities. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. If you can help me cook, then you can definitely learn how to sing. Besides,..."

He blinked, his eyes narrowing in mild disbelief. "You realize I've never sung a day in my life?"

A sly grin spread across your face as you leaned in closer. "That's why I'm teaching you, Jiaoqiu. Don't worry. It's just like dancing, but with your voice."

His expression grew more dubious, but he relented with a sigh. "Alright, but don't expect much."

You clapped your hands together, beaming. "The fox's wedding, the demon's daughter is idle. How about we sing?"

Jiaoqiu rolled his eyes slightly at your dramatic tone but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Getting up, the pitch is lost," he muttered, trying to follow along with your melody but quickly wavering.

You grinned and tapped his shoulder lightly. "Writhing in agony, will you give up? Come on, it's not so hard."

Jiaoqiu let out a long breath, clearly frustrated. "I've always been better with numbers than notes," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You placed a hand on his arm, your touch gentle as you leaned in a little closer. "Frustrated, you become perverse," you teased with a laugh, your eyes sparkling with playfulness.

He glanced sideways at you, amusement flickering in his gaze. "This time, the song is your specialty."

You nodded, encouraging him again. "Rising, come on, try again. I will be teaching," you said softly, the words meant to soothe his frustration.

He took a breath, trying once more to follow your melody. His voice was rough, unsure, but there was something endearing about his attempt. The two of you sat there, him stumbling over the notes while you sang softly beside him, guiding his voice with yours.

You paused for a moment, your smile softening. "Even if there is another world," you began, your voice a little quieter, "it is too painful to not be with you."

Jiaoqiu's eyes flicked to yours, the playful banter between you both fading into something more serious, more heartfelt. The weight of your words hung between you, carried by the gentle breeze.

He didn't respond with words but instead lifted his hand to take yours, his grip warm and firm. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the song forgotten as the cherry blossom petals drifted around you. The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you beneath that tree, connected by something unspoken, something that needed no melody to express.

"Let's try again," Jiaoqiu said finally, his voice steady.

Dance, dance, chirp, and dance in this bloodbath! 

Go crazy, go crazy, dance in ecstasy! 

Laugh, laugh, die and laugh at the fox's wedding!

Hey, hey, laugh now, now won't youJust laugh already?Stop it, oh, stop itIt hurts me so muchAaaaaaaaa....Every word you utter is so cruel  Aaaaaaaa!Stop hurting meAaaaaaaa!Someone save me

What are you looking at, grasping that blade of yours? 

Will she talk to her irrecoverable past self? 

Not knowing and not speaking is forbidden 

The songstress was bloodstained, and the dancing girl was headless 

Their faces were foolish, their geta movements unskilled

Little Miss, It's over! wake up to reality! You were dreaming..Yeah, He sliced it...

Can I think what happened again?

You walked with Hoolay, each step felt like a descent into a deeper abyss. The air was thick with the stench of blood and smoke, and the shadows seemed to dance with malice. Hoolay's gaze was cold, filled with a disdain that seemed to pierce through your very soul.

"How pathetic," Hoolay sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your life has been nothing but a collection of lies and illusions. Every hope, every dream, all of it amounts to nothing in the face of true power."

You looked at him, a bitter smile on your lips. Despite the pain and the dire situation, a dark, defiant laugh escaped you. "Is that so? You think my life was pathetic? Maybe. But not always. I was happy once. I found someone who loved me, truly loved me."

You laughed again, the sound a strange mix of sorrow and defiance. "You'll never find someone like that, Hoolay. You'll never know what it's like to be loved, to find joy amidst the suffering."

Finally, he lifted the blade high and brought it down with ruthless efficiency. The blade severed your head from your body in a single, clean strike. Your head rolled away, eyes still open in shock and defiance, while your body, instinctively reaching for Jiaoqiu, staggered before collapsing in a pool of its own blood.

The room was filled with the cacophony of battle and the grotesque spectacle of violence. As your lifeless body lay still, Hoolay's cruel grin widened. He approached the severed head, his expression almost reverent.

"Drink bloodwine... I hear it is a borisin custom to kill prisoners and drink their blood before battle to stir up their madness," he said, his voice carrying a dark satisfaction.

Hoolay, without hesitation, filled with the blood of your decapitated body. With a chilling sense of finality, he drank deeply, savoring the taste of your life essence. The act was a grotesque celebration of his victory, a testament to his dominance and cruelty.

I'm sorry...

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi! Love your writing! Can I request a stoic hero x suave flirty villain? Really spicy please? (Like with villain being kinda sub) Ty in advance for even reading this ask

Spicy

I love you.

The hero lost count of how many times this sentence had lingered on their tongue, ready to slip out when they were losing it all together. No matter how maniacal the villain’s flirtatious advances got though, they managed to stay calm, keep their mouth shut and let their enemy do the dirty talk. Fighting a wall was easier than this.

Not putting a label on it seemed reasonable. A month ago, the villain had dragged themselves into the hero’s apartment and after a week of nursing and healing wounds, the tension between them was thick enough to be cut by a knife. It was clear to both of them that they’d either kill each other soon or rack the hero’s bedframe.

One time turned into two, turned into countless times.

Along the way, the hero forgot the touch of other people, forgot every other lover they’d ever had and with that, every other preference that wasn’t the villain’s.

They started living together but it wasn’t official. It didn’t get addressed at all. If the villain started to see someone else, there was absolutely nothing the hero could do about it.

It made them uneasy. Nervous. It was a novel feeling, too. Relationships weren’t this difficult, were they? Overwhelmed and tired, they found something close to an answer when they touched the villain.

They sucked a hickey into the villain’s chest, lost in thought. Denial invaded their mind like a parasite. Love was a lot, wasn’t it? It was too big of a word, too complex to describe what they were having…

“Fucking Christ,” the villain whined. “Greedy today, huh?”

The hero wasn’t religious by any means but what they were doing was blasphemous, right?

For as long as they could remember, the villain was the enemy. They were the reason why they‘d started training to be a hero and now…well, they didn’t know if this was against the law, too. Racing thoughts didn’t stop them from sucking another hickey into the villain’s abdomen, drawing more and more desperate sounds and heavy panting from the villain.

Biting down into the soft skin, they let their fingertips run over the villain’s sensitive inner thighs. They felt them twitch, heard them moan a fucked-up version of the hero’s name. Hell, what that did to them was…

They let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

In response, the villain tugged on the hero’s hair, head thrown back as they pushed their hips up and suddenly, the hero didn’t know where to place themselves in this whole picture. Unsure of the role they were playing in the villain’s life, allowing themselves the childish dream of what they could be. God, wretched knife in their chest and all.

If talking could be easy. Fuck, they’d probably be married.

“Easy,” the hero warned. They caught the villain’s hip with one hand and pushed them back into the mattress. A naked hand on naked skin. This was insane.

“You’re so pretty,” the villain’s words garbled but the hero blushed nonetheless. “Fuck, let me—”

In some way, the villain achieved to get on top, drunk on pleasure, nails digging into the hero’s thick shoulders. They leaned forward.

“You look good under me,” they promised sweetly, their voice close to a whisper. They let their teeth sink into the hero’s neck but it didn’t come close to painful.

“Go to hell,” the hero whispered back.

“Dragging you with me. Can’t withstand these muscles.” To demonstrate their statement, they scratched their fingernails across the hero’s abdominals, making them hiss and leaving bright red marks. Four stripes, coding the hero as theirs.

“You little devil.”

“You’re into that…”

“Am not.”

“Oh, please. Don’t get yourself all worked up. I love it when you’re this obedient.” They smiled, showing their perfect set of teeth. Luckily, the hero grabbed their wrists, stopping their scratching crusade and forcing their faces to meet again.

“Come here.” One hand cupped their face instantly as they pulled them in for a kiss.

And they kissed them hard. Hard enough to get back on top, hard enough to forget their thoughts, hard enough to ignore how much they hated themselves and their actions.

If the hero wasn’t bad with words, then this relationship could have a future.

[retroactiive]

smolcuriouskitten​:

As he passed the threshold of her door and into her apartment, she closes the door, letting out a deep sigh. “I wasnt expecting to contact you again either honey. Now while I appreciate being called sweetheart, you may wanna hold that when I am in a sweeter mood.” Onyx said, sitting on a barstool by the kitchen island. Her movements were rigid, her jaw was clenched and her legs crossed with purpose.

Her face was neutral but her eyes were glaring into his stature, grabbing the wine glass from behind her and holding it. “You may wanna have a seat, I have a few concerns to voice to you babe.” She snaps her finger and points to the chair in the room that faced her. Taking a sip of her wine, she waits for him to sit. “Now you and I, we had an agreement. That agreement trickles down to my clients demands. She had trust in me to ensure I would give her everything to her liking. However things fell short but the agreement we had wasn’t complete the moment the car wasnt in working condition. I dont remember you being on site so I can only assume you had a buddy go to do the work. He didnt do a good job at all.” Her voice was smooth like velvet but her delivery was venomous.

The woman leans forward, pursing her lips before continuing. “Now we can do one of two things. You can give me the money back for the inconvenience and you can go on about ya day. Or we can make this difficult and my own connections can handle both you and your chop shop you call a service center. You better pick one before I pick one for you.” She folds her arms and waits for his answer with a raised brow. You wouldnt think she could act like this considering how calm and collected she was during their first visit. Once Onyx gets cursed out like a dog that pissed on the carpet, all her sweetness goes out the window.

Did she care that she was talking this way with a man in front of her? Not at all. She knew how to handle herself and she had her own ‘methods’ to protect herself if shit hit the fan. However with the way hes been looking at her, she doubts it would come to that.

---

mason doesn’t fret when she tells him to sit down and hear her out because he’s not worried about shit in this situation. he knows that he’s in the right her and that she was about to make a fool out of herself. it’s all exactly what he’s expecting from her. what he doesn’t expect is the saccharine tone that masks the venom that is dripping from her lips as she talks bad about him, his shop, and his work. but he bides his time, he bites his tongue, and lets her say everything that she needs to say to him. mason keeps his seat, keeps his patience and lets her say everything she has to say to him. and then his head cants to the side, eyes narrowing a bit as he does so. 

“ so you done bitching at me yet? you ready to feel stupid as fuck? “ mason states calmly as he looks right into her eyes without even an ounce of intimidation on his part. leaning forward, there is a bit of cockiness in his gaze as he continues on. “ you and me had an agreement sweetheart. and then i sent my payment invoice over to your office and your assistant came back with a counter offer for us to only to the engine work. i thought it was bullshit, but your assistant said that she had her own body shop to do the cosmetic work. her cousin from what i here, or some shit. so i made sure the engine ran without a hitch. and it did. but the doors fell of of your music video. literally. and now you wanna fucking come at me over some shit. “ a dark sounding chuckle, his voice heady and heavy as he looks into her eyes from where he was seated. at this point, there is a bit of cold reserve in his tone, enough to send an icy chill into anyone’s veins.

her threat is barely a registered thought in his mind, because he knows he’s more than capable of looking out for himself. “ and for future reference, you should watch who the fuck you’re talking to any kind of way. just ‘cause you know a few fucking heavy hitters don’t mean shit to me. i am the heavy hitter. you better fucking asking about me, sweetheart. and if you want your money back, you should go take it out your assistant’s pockets, ‘cause she’s the one who fleeced yo ass. i did exactly what i got paid to do. “ leaning forward, now mason is face to face with the woman who had invited him into this fancy apartment. he assumes this place belongs to her but he’s uncertain. it could be a rental. 

 “ i’ll let you slide this time, but if you ever threaten me again, i ain’t gonna let you get off just because you’re gorgeous. i’m sure you’ve done your research on me, my shop. but i didn’t always used to be this nice mechanic. mason will let you slide. malice? malice will make you fucking regret you ever talked to me, “ he threatened, hoping that she was smart enough to do her research on who he used to be before he went to prison. before he went clean, he had quite a reputation built up for how ruthless he was. “ now, you got something else for me or can i go fuck off now? “

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 TXF Fic Rec #21: "Calculated Risk" by Sarie Fairy

Sarie Fairy (@sarie-fairy) does a great job turning on the heat in this spicy, fervent MSR first-time story. Following the high emotions of episode 7x02, “Amor Fati,” what’s a better way for our agents to blow off steam than a drunk and frenzied smutting session in a public bathroom?

What I liked most though, is their conversation in the bar leading up to the deed. Long repressed feelings come out to play, and the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I never get tired of post-“Never Again” angst. Their discussion about Ed Jerse, finally happening after three years, is particularly well-handled and unfolds exactly as it should.

---

🥏 on Ao3

length: short, 11,000+ words season: season 7, 7x02 Amor Fati, mentions of 4x13 Never Again pairing(s): M/S First-time tags: episode-related, smut, angst, jealousy, Diana Fowley, Scully-POV rating: explicit/NC-17

[oo-delallymrcrow]

Hi!

I've stumbled upon your page recently and I Love your writing. The Avantris crew has been a huge comfort for me as I've been adjusting to college life.

I had an idea for a little fic with Kremy if you are open to the idea. Something where he has pushed away his feelings for the reader (a female water genasi) for almost as long as she's been with them and the crew is out on some adventure and the tension between them is so thick you could cut it with a knife. And somehow she ends up lost or severely injured and kremy thinks he isn't going to get her back and all the feelings just break through the dam he's built.

Something a little angsty but also super passionate and maybe a little spicy here and there. If you hate the idea or it's not your thing feel free to totally ignore it. Again, Love your writing🌿

Hello! I am so happy you are here, and I'm always at a lost for words when people say they love my writing. I love your sweet comments and thank you for reading!

I love this idea! The tension being so thick and everyone clocking you and Kremy having a thing. Kremy doesn't admit anything though he just says it's because you're apart of the crew. Then suddenly you're taken and he goes into panic mode!!

I'll add this to my growing list of wips 😅

[carleyplays]

The next night arrived, and with it came the vibrant atmosphere of the Spice Festival. Rhodes and Emerson walked side by side through the bustling crowd, the air thick with the scent of sizzling street food and sweet spices. Colorful lights danced around them, illuminating the laughter and excitement that surrounded the festival-goers.

As they entered the venue, Emerson pulled Rhodes close, her arm wrapping around his waist as they posed for photos. The flashes of their cameras captured them in smiles, their faces radiating the joy of being a couple for the public eye. Yet, beneath the surface, a palpable tension hung in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Rhodes couldn’t shake the uncertainty weighing heavily on his mind. He glanced at Emerson, who was engrossed in checking their social media posts, scrolling through the flood of likes and comments. He felt like an outsider looking in, questioning the reality of their relationship as he watched her revel in the attention.

“Do you want to try some food?” Emerson asked, her voice bright and cheerful, as she pulled him toward one of the stalls.

“Sure,” Rhodes replied, though his enthusiasm fell flat. He followed her, feeling the gnawing conflict within him grow louder. They ordered a variety of spicy dishes, the heat of the food contrasting sharply with the chill settling in the pit of his stomach.

As they found a table to sit and eat, Emerson animatedly chatted about the different spices and flavors they were trying. Rhodes nodded along, forcing a smile, but inside, he felt the weight of his thoughts pressing against him.

“Are you okay?” Emerson finally asked, her eyes narrowing in concern as she noticed his distracted demeanor.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, staring down at his food. “Just... thinking.”

Rhodes looked up, meeting her gaze. “I like spending time with you, I really do. But I also feel like we’re playing a part, like this isn’t really us. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing sight of what’s real.”

Emerson’s expression shifted, and for a moment, the playful mask she wore cracked. “Rhodes, I thought you were all about the adventure. This is what it is—a wild ride.”

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 12 – OTHER MARVEL SHIPS

PEPPER/NATASHA

Shallows by Lise

Pairing: Pepper/Natasha Rating: T Words: 3,780 Tags: Secret Identity, Female Bonding, Drinking

Summary: A good assistant's hard to find. Natalie Rushman from legal is - well - certainly not a bad one.

Reasons why I love it: Natasha being an absolute badass will never not be awesome. I love how this ties into canon, and I adore the dialogue throughout the whole fic. Also, the ending puts the biggest smile on my face every time I read it. This fic is amazing, and you should definitely read it!

Bidding Hard And Fast by Salmon_Pink

Pairing: Pepper/Natasha Rating: E Words: 1,019 Tags: Dirty Talk, Public Sex, Charity Auction

Summary: When Pepper volunteers her time for a charity auction, she's expecting the bidder's will be interested in business propositions. Natasha has a different kind of proposition in mind.

Reasons why I love it: I could cut the sexual tension with a KNIFE, Jesus. How the hell anyone can manage to put this much hotness in so few words, I don't even know, but Salmon_Pink done did the damn thing. This fic is spicy and lovely, and I hope you go and check it out for yourself!

Useless in Different Ways by Reioka

Pairing: Pepper/Natasha Rating: G Words: 5,001 Tags: Hospital AU, Useless Lesbians, Didn't Know They Were Dating

Summary: Dr. Potts and Dr. Stark make a cute couple, Natasha has to admit mulishly. Too bad no one told her that she was actually the one dating Dr. Potts.

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, look at all these idiots in love, I am LIVING. This fic is so cute and funny too, it made me chuckle so many times. The dialogue is super sweet, and I love Pepper getting turned on by Natasha respecting the fuck out of her. The whole fic is wonderful, so go and read it for yourself!

Boy Toy by seriousfic

Pairing: Pepper/Natasha Rating: E Words: 2,566 Tags: Crossdressing, Strap-Ons, Undercover

Summary: There are many things Natasha can do to maintain her cover as Pepper's male secretary. Bind her breasts. Wear glasses. Get a blowjob.

Reasons why I love it: This is that 'PDA makes people uncomfortable' scene taken to the nth degree. Watching Natasha's control slip as Pepper gets really into their little show is incredibly satisfying. And holy hell, this fic gets steamy, it's so hot. I love it, and I bet you will too!

it's the little things you do by starkly

Pairing: Pepper/Natasha Rating: E Words: 5,365 Tags: Size Difference, Extremis Pepper, Fluff and Smut

Summary: Pepper looks down on Natalie Rushman from legal, not in any sort of metaphorically disapproving way, but because even wearing heels Natalie Rushman from legal barely reaches Pepper's nose.

Reasons why I love it: Okay, I gotta admit, I never thought about the implications of Pepper getting souped up on Extremis, but now that this fic has opened my eyes, I don't want to think about anything else. This fic goes from sweet to heartfelt to scorching hot in the blink of an eye, and I am here for it. I hope you check this one out, because it's amazing!