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thexsilentxwordsmith · 2 years ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

You up?

Need you. Now.

Can’t wait.

The repetitious vibrations from your phone pull your attention away from the open book resting against your thighs and over to where it lay on your mattress next to you. Grabbing it, you press the button on the side that turns on the screen and check the clock in the upper right hand corner. It’s later than you thought, but being the night owl you are meant that you were still up messing about even if you shouldn’t be.

He knew it.

Rolling over to your side as you read and reread the short messages, discarding your book to the other side of the bed, the sudden racing pulse through your veins makes your stomach cartwheel. It didn’t take much these days to get your body aching for a certain Lieutenant, not when he’s texting you shit like that at this hour.

As quickly as your fingers can type you text Ghost back, an instantaneous need swelling inside at the thought of being with him again.

And what if I am?

You need something?

Not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes to life again and quickly you read the bubble that pops up on screen.

Are you going to get that sweet arse over here or not, luv?

A flutter in your chest makes your breath hitch as you jump up from your bed and throw on whatever articles of clothing that are within reach; time is of the essence. Doesn’t matter what the hell it is when you know Ghost will be tearing them off you the moment you get to him anyway. Things usually get hot and heavy pretty fast when you two are together, so the only real rule that you stood by was less is best as that meant you could get to the deed that much quicker.

Both of you knew why you’d be there, no sense in beating around the bush when he could immediately be diving into one.

With slow, careful movements and silent steps, you leave your quarters and set out across the base towards your superiors room. Once you’re outside you keep to the shadows, trying to minimize any unwanted attention to the fact you are out far too late and that your destination just happens to be where the officers are housed; getting stopped now will not be ideal. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

He’s already waiting for you when you arrive. Your knuckles barely touch the surface of the door before you hear the lock click and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless, brown-eyed Adonis staring straight back at you. It’s clear from his ruffled, unkempt locks and wrinkled sweatpants that he had not been successful in trying to get to sleep before his desire grew into a beast too difficult to handle alone.

"Fancy meeting you here," you pick at him as he reaches for your arm and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. “What’s that, like the third time this week alone?”

As he turns back to you Ghost’s sight locks to your body, slowly taking you all in as he eyes you up and down, hunger glistening through his gaze. "Is that complaining I hear?" he smirks. "I’m not apologizin’, luv. Do you know what you fucking do to me?"

"I have an idea," you breathe as that imposing figure of prime masculinity moves in closer, "but you know I’ve always been a bit of a visual learner, so why don't you show me again?"

A smile that could make Satan blush flashes across his lips and with a growl that sets you shivering with anticipation, Ghost closes the short distance between you and leans in, pulling you against his warm, tight chest as he meets your mouth greedily with his.

“mmm … mmh… !” he groans into you.

A series of frantic, heated kisses overwhelm your lips as if he is trying to devour every bit of that soft, full pout as he can; how can someone’s kiss feel like heaven? Your rapidly palpating heart makes your head buzz as he pours his desire into you and you respond in kind by meeting his intensity with your own.

Breaking away for only a moment, his hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head and off to remove any barrier between the both of you. He tosses it out of the way and moves back against you, nearly crushing you in between him and the door as he can’t stand being separated.

Warm breath is at the side of your head. "Need to feel you," he groans near your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and giving it a bite. Your ears pick up the sound of his breath hitching as he comes apart at the sensation of your breasts plastered to his chest, hands surveying the rest of the skin available to him.

“Goddamn, I feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire. Don’t know what spell you fucking have me under sweetheart, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you say against his swollen lips, “to become your problem.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans before his mouth latches back on to your own.

You already are.

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. That insatiable appetite is something of a marvel as you both had been messing around for a couple of months and yet his texts seem to come at a more frequent rate now than when you started. Nothing is more euphoric than to be desired to the point of obsession, especially when it came to someone like the Lieutenant; there’s something primal in the way a big man possesses you.

Without warning his hands clasp securely around your waist as he picks you up so that you can wrap your thighs around his hips, your back slamming harshly against the door for leverage. The sound of your body bouncing off the surface echoes through the quiet room as that sculpted body of his presses firmly into you so the prominence of his arousal can be felt as he grinds it up into the crotch of your pants.

His face is still joined to yours and the sensation of his tongue pressing against your mouth brings you back to reality, impatiently knocking for entry, and you part your lips so that he can slip the thick muscle inside. He shoves it within the confines of that wet cavern so that it can do its exploring while it dances alongside your own tongue; he sure does enjoy keeping all your holes nice and stuffed full.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more.

You both are on the move now and you have to lock your arms around his shoulders to hang on as he makes the short distance to the bed not a few feet from where you are and sets you down. He kneels before you on the floor, pulls you to the edge, and in one swift motion his hands are on your pants before they are suddenly off you and next to him.

Even in the dim light of the small room, you can see how his eyes shimmer with lust and want, a predators gaze just before they go in for the kill. This man would be the death of you, but what a glorious death it would be.

“Lay back for me,” he demands and you follow.

A powerful grip is placed on each one of your inner thighs to spread them wide as Ghost moves them to sit on his shoulders where they will rest as he works. Leaning in towards your cunt he goes in face first with no hesitation like a starved man read to eat his first meal in days.

With shaky hands you cling to the sheets for dear life as the he nestles the tip of his tongue between your petals, gathering your sweet juices along his taste buds as he drags it across the length, teasing circles around your aching clit before thrusting up against it. There he begins to stroke with languid movements along that organ of pleasure, go in with all he has amidst the sound of your mewls at the pleasurable sensation.

Goddamn you taste good.

That face with its beautifully chiseled features is buried so deep in you Ghost can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his movements all work together to fuel the passion for your cunt. On his knees between your legs is his favorite place to be, listening to the symphony you make, even with the threat that you’d lock your legs around his head; god, he hoped you would.

Your eyes clamp themselves shut as your head falls back while another back-arching vibration of pleasure hits your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to breathe when your brain had lost all its functions. Ghost’s intense pace never slows even as you writhe violently across his face, your sweet nectar coating itself across his cheeks. Oh no, it only fuels him more; he’d drown against you and still say thank you.

Ghost’s hands move up further on your hips suddenly, pulling you against his face until he is latched so securely that you can not buck him off. There is not anywhere for you to go at this point and the only thing you can do is ready yourself as that warmth in your stomach grows stronger and stronger, your toes curling with each thrust of his tongue.

Releasing your grip on the sheets, you bring your hand down and ruffle your fingers through his hair and he moans into you. “Sh-shit,” you stutter breathless. The pace is steady, sucking and stroking, but it’s intense as the minutes pass without any sign of him letting up. You know there will be no mercy found for you here; Ghost will stop when his job is done and not a second before.

Tiny beads of sweat speckle your body as you burn under his touch and he smirks against you, feeling how hard he is working you as the perspiration hits his fingertips. The pressure was overwhelming and your hips rock with him trying to get you there.

There is nothing more beautiful than the mess he is always making out of you lately and if he has his way he will keep you on your back almost constantly.

Pressure building, warmth gathering, the precipice within reach with each stroke. Relentless he feasts with fervor until your eyelids flutter shut.

Right there. It’s right fucking there. Just a few more licks of his tongue, a few more precise hits and that is going to be all.

It’s coming, the plunge. Ghost’s fingernails are piercing the skin of your hips as a few more deliberate strokes of his tongue on your clit cause your butt to lift up of the bed as your orgasm rips through you.

Your thighs clamp around his ears, blocking him in against you and yet he doesn’t stop. The entirety of your ecstasy you ride out with him licking and sucking until you sink into the mattress, breathing through the pleasure. After a moment you look down to see the demon emerge from you with a smirk strung across his mouth that sparkles with your slick.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sighs and stands to his feet, fingers capturing the drawstrings to his pants and with a pull the tie untangles itself so that the slack fabric can hang low on his hips.

“What?” you play, knowing what he wants and even though you are still catching your breath, you are more than ready to give in to him.

“You know damn well what. Night’s still young, luv,” he says as he slips the waistband down even lower, “and now it’s my turn.”

He isn't finished with you yet, not even close.

His desire is beyond reason now, even more than before, and it fills his gaze as he stares back at you. No movement yet as Simon allows that bit of tension to linger in the air before he pounces.

Fuck anymore foreplay, this can’t hold off any longer.

Those legs of yours you have kept open, inviting him back, but this time with his cock instead of his tongue. He moves back in, dropping his pants off his legs and stepping out of them. A quick order he barks to move back further onto the bed has you scooting and he is following you, crawling across the surface with the power and grace of a lion before he goes in for the kill.

“You ready for me, princess?” he growls.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyed gaze watching him as he prepares to claim you again. “Give it to me,” you say and that is all the confirmation needed.

Sliding between your thighss as he parts them as easily as a knife through warm butter, he pushes one back where your knee is near your chest while the other is straight beneath him; he wants to get as deep as he fucking can. There is no hesitation as with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock, his balls bouncing off your ass.

“Ahh…” you cry out as you stretch to capacity to accommodate all of him, your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulders as your body adjusts to his mighty girth.

Ghost bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body gives him is enough to make the man see God.

“Goddamn sweetheart, the way you feel around my fucking cock,” he groans, “just want to keep it in you at all times. If I had my way, you’d stay on your back all day every day.”

Obsession is not quite the word, but you already have the man wrapped around your little finger. The things he'd do to have you at this point border on the diabolical.

There is no holding back once he starts thrusting in and out, desperate to find his rhythm, not with how wet and tight you are; it is paradise. Soon enough that pace is set and you are joining him in grinding your hips against his pelvis. Ghost rests his forehead against yours, rough, strong fingers finding your hands so that they can lace themselves in between the paces of your own as he holds them above your head. The building pressure causes him to start panting.

“O-OHH, FUCK…!!” he exclaims as you tighten yourself on his cock, putting those kegel practices to good use just to see him falter.

It is not expected and throws him off a moment; he’s the one that is suppose to be showing that pussy who’s boss, but you’ve taken the reins with that one move. Someone is bound to hear him and yet he can’t be bothered to quiet himself. If you want to make sure this stays a secret, you shouldn’t pull moves that can bring him to his proverbial knees.

Time after time he feels the need to remind you in breathless moans how you are his, but if Ghost is honest you have him fucking whipped; not that he is going to let you know that. Still, if you pay close enough attention you will be able to tell the signs, like the way he is utterly falling apart now. Fuck, he needs to come so bad now he can taste it.

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. He needs to take over your entire being, possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you but him.

Releasing your hands, he moves back to sit taller on his knees so that he can put the most leverage behind his thrusts. He helps you to reposition so that both of your thighs are now secure high on his hips; you are going to need to hang on for this. Abdominals are straining along his torso, contracting down with each movement until they are coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration.

“Com’ on, pretty girl, you goin’ to give me another?” he grunts. The knot in your brows and the way your mouth hangs slack must say it all. He’s going to make you come again.

You nod furiously, focusing on that warm gathering in the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, sweetheart, com’ on. I deserve to feel you this time. Com' on my cock, slather it nice and proper.”

Hips rolling as if his life depends on it, he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. It’s working, your back is arching, and release is gaining on you. “Yes, y-yes,” you choke out.

The pressure is overwhelming and your hips buck, the pain of over-stimulation turning to pleasure as your body readies itself to shoot that hot electricity through your limbs. Ghost presses the pad of his finger harshly up against your clit and with his thrusts working inside you, that is finally enough to make you spill.

Your second orgasm rockets through you, causing you to clamp down on him with fluttering walls. The sensation is enough to cause that deep ache to finally find its remedy and his pulls out of you quickso that he can coat your torso with his cum. You quickly reach down and grab his cock, stroking out all his has to give until he is shuddering and please with you to stop.

He has to sit back on his heels and just breathe a moment before he can move to grab something to clean you off, but soon he’s able to go off and grab you a towel, handing it to you as he falls on the bed beside you while you finish wiping off the last of his cream.

“So, I guess that means we’re done here right?” you playfully tease him as you throw the towel aside and lay back down.

Strong arms enfold you and pull him to his chest as he smirks, the euphoria of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

He catches your mouth with his to shut you up. “You should know fucking better than that, luv,” he says, nipping at your lips. “Price may own you when the sun is up, but that still a ways off. You and that sweet cunt of yours are mine until then.”

Hell, he cannot seem to ever get enough of you no matter how many times you frequent his bed. Those strong fingers draw lazy circles across your back, making you tingle as you come back down from your high

You chuckle sleepily, the consequences of you staying up so late mixing with the act you just performed. “I’ll be so tired, not gonna be able to run drills properly.”

“More complainin’?” he retorts. “I must not have finished the fucking job yet. You’ve been doin’ just fine with keeping up with your duties so far. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll make sure your proper exhausted just as I always do.”

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tripthelightfandomtastic · 4 months ago

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Teach Me.

D.R.W x S.F.K x Reader

Author’s Note: This is my Christmas gift to y'all! I've put together a full version of the two part Wild Wednesday posts I wrote recently. I really am so proud of how these came out and I wanted to put it into an easy read so you didn’t have to scour my WW tags and risk it just kinda falling to the ether. I may do this again in the future, depending on how this goes.

Synopsis: Being in a relationship with Danny and both of you having long lasting sexual tension with Danny 's best friend, Sam. A beautiful night of showing Sam what makes you and Danny feel good.

Word Count: 2.7K (quick and easy threesome)

Pairing: Danny x Sam x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Foul language, oral, threesome, light dom/sub, raw sex (Wrap it before you tap your boyfriend and his best friend)

Teach Me. -D.R.W x S.F.K x F. Reader

All I can picture is being friends with Sam and dating Danny. Always having this constant sexual tension between you, and seeing it also with Danny and his best friend. After a drunken evening with Danny, you find out that Sam and him kissed on New Years once. It was a one time thing, but it felt good. You keep thinking about the idea of Sam and Danny kissing, and you wish to be in the middle of it one day.

Somehow, some way, you find yourself in the middle of your fantasy. Danny loves showing you off to Sam, showing what makes you feel good, and you can't help but pipe up. "Can I show you what makes Danny feel good, Sammy?" You ask, standing there in the middle of the bedroom, both Sam and Danny watching you. "Yes, please." He whispers, a little nervously.

"Sit on the edge of the bed. Both of you." You ask teasingly. The friend's look at each other before sitting, you can't help but look at them like this. So toned, soft skin, side by side, hard and wanting. You drop to your knees between Danny's legs, moving your hair aside. "He loves to watch the way I suck his cock." You smile at Sam as you take Danny's hard member in your hand. "I pump his cock slowly at first." You say as you demonstrate, Sam's eyes glued to your motions. "Then I lick his tip just like this." You let your tongue gently lap at Danny's tip, relishing in the attention as Danny moans, letting his head fall back. "Then I take him into my mouth, like this." You whisper, before leaning in and taking Danny's cock down your throat, slowly taking him inch by inch. Danny groans, his hand in your hair as you bob your head up and down on him.

"Fuck." Sam breathes, his hand slowly pumping his own cock. You slowly come up and off Danny's dick and look up at Sam, "You wanna try?" You smile up at him sweetly, heart slamming in your chest. "I can show you, again." You tease as you make your way between Sam's thighs, replacing his hand with your hand, wrapping around his achingly hard cock. It's so pretty, soft and warm against your palm. "I think you should show him baby, Sammy's a visual learner." Danny smirks as he leans in and kisses Sam's neck. Sam's eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself for a moment, sandwiched between his two friends. "Pay attention, Sammy." Danny whispers in his ear. "Yes, sir." Sam quips, a lazy stoner smile on his face.

Both boys look back at you. "I touch him just like this." You say, pumping slowly, watching Sam's thighs flex at your touch. "Then I lick his tip like this." "Mhmm," Sam's voice shakes as he watches Danny's hands playing with his nipples. You let your tongue explore the soft expanse of Sam's tip, loving the feeling of salty precum on your tongue. "That's my good girl." Danny grins as you pull off, letting a gentle bit of spit cover his tip and down his length. "Then take him deeper into your mouth." You repeat, bringing your open mouth down Sam's cock, pumping the rest into your mouth as you begin to take Sam's dick into your throat. Moaning around him as you do. "Fuck sake." Sam breathes, his hand tentatively touching your hair. "Go ahead Sam, show her how much you like it." Danny assures. Sam moves his hand into your hair, so gentle still as he moves your hair to the side and guides you along his length, your nails raking up his thigh as you do so. "God, you're so pretty." Danny whispers to you, "So pretty." Sam agrees gingerly.

Sam surprises you by guiding you off of him, "Can I try? Please?" He asks eagerly. Your eyes glisten from taking him deep, "Mhm." You respond, excited to watch. You move to be next to Danny's knee, watching as your boyfriend follows Sam's movements to be on his knees in front of him. You move Sam's hands up to relax on Danny's thighs. "Start here, be sweet and kiss here." You whisper in his ear, watching as goosebumps raise on Sam's skin. His hands relax onto both Danny's thighs, gently feeling the muscles underneath. He leans in and places tender kisses against the skin of both inner thighs. "Good boy." Danny coos, hand gently running over Sam's cheek to his jaw, thumb turning over his bottom lip, slowly. You could cut the tension with a knife.

"And you do just what I showed you." You whisper, watching as Sam moves a hand to Danny's cock. "So soft." Sam murmurs to himself, getting acquainted with the feeling. Danny sighs as he watches Sam pump his cock lazily at first, increasing in speed just a tad. Sam leans in on his own, gently kitten licking at Danny's cock. Danny lets out a hiss as he tries to control himself, locking eyes with Sam. You can't help but begin to touch yourself as you watch, just taking in the sight as Sam lets a little bit of saliva dribble down Danny's shaft, wetting it for his hand and bringing his mouth down the length. "Go slow, pretty boy." You whisper, moving closer to Sam, eyes on Danny as you reach around and tug on Sam's own cock. A moan reverberating from Sam's throat and around Danny, making Danny groan, his eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

"Good boy, Sammy." You whisper, your hand slowly pumping his cock, making him sigh as he begins to take more of Danny. "Fuck, Sam." Danny's hand relaxes into Sam's hair, he gently takes his hair up into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide him up and down.

Sam gags a bit on Danny's cock, but presses on, a tear rolling down his cheek. "There he is, good job sweet boy, keep going, just like that." You rasp against his ear, pumping him faster now. You can tell Danny is close, the way he moans, how his head falls back, his lips parted. "Come on Sammy, wanna watch you cum." You smile as your thumb rolls over the tip of his hard cock, Sam hums around Danny's length, making Danny's grip in Sam's hair tighten. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." Danny mumbles out, "Want to watch you swallow it all." You say, egging Danny and Sam on, knowing just how bad they each want it.

Sam pumps Danny's cock into his mouth, using his hand for what he can't fit in his throat. "Baby the tip of his cock, Sammy. I know he loves it." You advise, also doing the same thing to Sam with your hand. You watch as he arches his back, moaning around the tip of Danny's cock.

Danny's hand is like a vice grip on Sam's hair, holding him still as he cums down Sam's throat. Sam eagerly swallows it all, every last drop, "Oh Sam. Oh fuck Sam." Danny whimpers as he cums, Sam can't help it, cumming in your hand. He pulls his mouth away, moaning and whining as he cums hard for you both.

You can't help but grin as you look at these two gorgeous men. Sam wraps his arms around Danny, his head in his lap, Danny hunched over Sam, playing with his hair as they both catch their breaths. "So good. You tasted so good." Sam whispers, turning to look up at Danny. Danny kisses Sam deeply, tasting himself on his best friend's tongue. Danny hums against his lips. "Had a good teacher." Sam breathes, looking at you. You blush, moving closer to the two of them.

Sam kisses you before giving you to Danny to kiss. "So can we do this again, soon?" You ask looking to them. "Of course. I gotta know what makes you tick next." Sam smiles against your neck. "Why wait?" Danny speaks, kissing your neck.

"No time like the present. My girl has done such a good job, being so sweet to both of us, I think she deserves some of our attention, don't you think Sammy?" Danny coos in your ear, kissing up your neck, his hand cradling your jaw. "Mm, the teacher becomes the subject." Sam smirks, kissing up the other side of your neck. You feel like you could burst into flames with the way their touches feel on your body. "Y-Yes please." You submit without a fight, not wanting to wait for your turn after being so terribly teased from watching Sam suck off your boyfriend.

"You're gonna love playing with her, she's such a good girl for me. You're gonna be a good girl for Sam, baby?" Danny asks, turning your face to him, your eyes hooded with lust. "Yes, sir. I can be good." You whisper, a subtle quiver in your voice, you can hardly wait. "Good, pretty girl." Danny whispers against your lips, kissing you deep. He pulls away from you, looking over to Sam, "You want to ask her to lay down, Sammy? I don't think our girl deserves to wait any longer." Danny says, ever the mind reader.

"Lay down, pretty girl." Sam smiles, lending you a hand to help you onto the bed. You relax into the pillows, your heart slamming in your chest. The two boys kneel on either side of your body, their eyes feasting over your figure. You should feel semi nervous, but you can't help but feel so safe. You know they only want to make you feel good. Danny's hand runs up your inner thigh, up to your pussy. You sigh out a moan, "Oh Sammy, she needs it bad." Danny smirks as his fingers run up from your pussy to your clit, the collective wetness on Danny's fingertips make your mind melt as he begins to swirl your clit under his middle finger with ease. "Just feel how wet she is for us." Danny invites Sam closer, his hand dragging along the expanse of your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider, showing off just how much you need it. Sam's fingers glide gently inside of you, you moan as his long, slender fingers press ever so slowly inside of you. "Oh fuck." Sam whispers, his cock bounces, so hard with need again. "You're soaked." Sam smiles, his eyes holding yours, you can't help but blush. The sound of your own wetness fills the room as Sam's fingers slowly move in and out. "That's my girl." Danny smiles at you, his fingers on your clit combined with Sam's make you cry out, your eyes fluttering shut as your hips buck.

"Not yet, baby doll. We're just getting started." Danny grins, his hand moving away, prompting Sam to follow suit. You can't help but whimper in frustration. "Danny, please." You whine, your thighs pressing together for some sort of relief. "Spread your legs baby, let me show Sam how you like to cum on my face." Danny asks softly.

You follow his order, letting Danny lay between your legs, making himself at home while Sam moves closer to your hip so he can watch. Danny's hands run softly up your legs and rest on your thighs, his eyes closed as he kisses you on your thighs. "She likes it when you start slow, don't you, baby?" Danny speaks quietly between your thighs. The warm air from his lips makes you practically buzz with excitement. "Yes, sir." You smile shyly. "Kiss her just like this, she feels so soft and warm." Danny explains, kissing you sweetly, pressing wet, lazy kisses up both inner thighs. "Then, slowly, bring your tongue up through her folds." Danny says, his tongue gently trailing up your wetness, making you sigh gently at the sensation of his cool tongue. "You see? She loves it. Don't you, princess?" You nod quickly, "Mhmm." You whine. "Then a few more times, just like that." Danny says to Sam, almost ignoring your whimpers. Danny's hands go to your hips, pulling you closer, your legs propping up out of habit, giving Danny a place to bring his hands, pulling your thighs to lay against his shoulders. "See? She knows how she wants it." Danny smirks to Sam, who is now lazily pumping himself as he watches. Danny closes his eyes, his tongue moving quicker on your clit, your back arches as he hums out a moan against you. Sam lends a hand to Danny, moving hair away from his face. It makes you go crazy watching them like this.

Soon, Danny pulls away and sits back up, kneeling next to Sam. "You wanna make my girl cum for you?" Danny asks Sam. Sam nods quickly, "God, yes, please." Sam answers. The two trade places, and you're already a dizzy mess. "Kiss her thighs, get her comfortable." Danny says, his eyes flitting up to you, his hand on your calf as he watches from your side so he can watch.

Sam kisses your thighs, his eyelashes tickle as he looks up at you and then over to Danny. He follows Danny's instructions, moving his tongue to your pussy, licking gently through them. You and Sam both sigh softly, "She does taste good." Sam murmurs, almost to himself. You can't help but blush as Sam loses himself in tasting you. Lapping you up, ever so gently. "Faster Sammy, right against her clit, she'll-" as Sam follows Danny's prompt, your hand moves into Sam's hair, your legs spreading open. "She'll do that." Danny grins as your hand tightens in Sam's hair, earning a moan from Sam. "Good boy." Danny whispers before kissing Sam on the shoulder.

It feels so good, your legs begin to shake, "Oh god Sam." You cry out, "There you go Sammy, latch your lips around her clit and suck." Danny comments, Sam follows. You cry loudly, eyes squeezed shut as your legs clamp around Sam's head. Sam moans as he presses his hips against the mattress, "She's close, dig your fingers into her hips and pull her closer, she tries to fight it but she knows she's close." Danny eggs Sam on, knowing just how you like it. Sam's hands grip tightly to you, his tongue flat as he moves his head back and forth, Danny's hand on the back of Sam's head, whispering in his ear, "Good boy, just like that."

You are losing your mind, crying out Sam's name. Danny tells Sam to move his fingers inside of you, filling you up while he laps quickly at your clit. You can feel your release coming fast, Sam's long fingers brushing deep inside you while his plump lips latch around your clit. Your grip in his hair is tight as your hips buck, but Sam's mouth never leaves you. "There she is. Good girl, let it go. Let him taste it. Let Sammy feel you on his tongue." Danny says, his voice like silk in your ears. You can't stop until you cum all over Sam's mouth, "Don't over stimulate her, just let her come down slowly, lap it up gentle and slow." Danny says softly, his hands caressing your face and moving your hair from your forehead. "Such a good girl for us. Always so good." Danny whispers to you, kissing your cheek, up to your lips.

You search for your breath in the haze. Losing grip on what's real. Sam lays against your thigh, just like how he did Danny's. You play with Sam's hair as you both come back to life. Sam slowly sits up, lips, cheeks, and chin shining with your cum. Danny smiles, pulling Sam into a kiss with his hand holding Sam's jaw. "She tastes good on your tongue." Danny whispers against his friend's mouth.

Sam moves to you, laying beside your form, kissing you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. "Mmm." You hum against his lips. The three of you lay in a heap, you cuddled in-between your lovers, their hands softly wandering your body. "You did so good, Sam." You smile, your fingers running through Sam's hair, he grins at you. "I had a good teacher."

My lovely tag list:

Tag list:

@tripthelight-fanfic @emsgvf @ageofstardust @dakotadovato @screechesincoherently @gretavankleep37 @strangeh0rizons @capturethechaos @kiszkathecook @jakeslovehandles @depressingdarlin @gretavanfleas @prophetofthedune @josiee-gvf @doodle417 @readthinkbeme @katie-gvf @lallisonl @toxbexannouncedx @kdarling1 @theweightofjake @greatervanfleet @foxylotus @highladyofasgard @joshkiszkas @badgvf @greta-van-simp @sunandthemoontwinflames @cassy-face @mindastreamofcolours

(If you'd like to be added or your handle has changed lmk!)

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ssa-dado · 15 days ago

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Hi! So following up from your (incredible) breakdown of Hotch's apartment, I've always wondered why stayed in the apartment to raise Jack after Foyet/100 and I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!

Obviously, his and Haley's marital house was out after everything but the same apartment he got stabbed in is wild to me and to then to Jack who was held hostage by the guy who stabbed Hotch by the dining table? I get if it was for security with less points of direct entry but Foyet got in??? Is there a garden or green space for Jack to play in? Does Hotch do a background check on all new tenants?

Anyway, this is not anti-apartment slander because I happily live in one myself but I'm so interested in why Hotch would since he clearly has the means (Rolex watches are not cheap lmao) and this feels like the right platform to discuss it haha what do you think?

Breaking down Hotch's apartment layout until someone from Criminal Minds slides into my DMs with the damn floorplans: (The Empire Strikes Back)

I’ve thought about this a lot (maybe too much) and I honestly believe Hotch stayed in that apartment building for a mix of reasons. It’s not just one thing. Maybe one factor weighed heavier than the others, but ultimately, I picture him doing one of those classic pros and cons lists, like the fussy man he is, and letting the whole picture guide the decision... does it make sense??

Now, if we look at the architectural typology of his building, we know it follows a comb-plan layout - meaning it features two semi-enclosed, semi-public green spaces that are open toward the street. (I even made a little sketch to visualize it because I’m a visual learner... Like, I don’t know what “Hotch’s hands” means until I see them. Someone please send references...pls???)

That said, the green spaces aren’t the reason he stayed. Sure, the building has them, but they’re likely shared among all tenants, mostly decorative, and maybe even off-limits in terms of actual use (some buildings do that.. yikes). Plus, they’re super open to the street, which means they’re not really safe or private enough for Jack to play in.

So I don’t think the green spaces themselves were the selling point.

I think he stayed because of the overall architectural quality of the building. It's a historic structure (from mid 1920s-1930s??) that’s been carefully restored, updated with 21st-century systems and amenities, and built with high-quality materials and finishes. Maybe there’s a park nearby where Jack can actually play safely. Maybe it’s closer to his school. It also doesn’t strike me as a suburban area, which could be another plus - city life offers access to public transportation, shops, cultural spaces, sports activities… all of which might've played into the decision.

I am so so so so here for this headcanon and I fuck so much with the background check idea because yes, he absolutely asked Garcia for help and no, he doesn’t think that was an overstep. It was a precaution. For Jack.

Also, I’m convinced he’s very active in the tenant community.

He’s the one who created the condo group chat - no one asked him to, but it’s impeccably organized, with pinned messages and!!! a color-coded spreadsheet of recycling days (I'm European, this is wired into my DNA, sorry) he made himself at 3 a.m. on Excel. He barely answers texts from his team, but the second someone reports “unusual noises near the trash chute,” he’s replying in 0.3 seconds with “What time? Which floor?”

Sure, he’s fussy about noise (especially when he’s actually home) but he’s also the one everyone turns to when the building manager starts power-tripping or the garbage hasn't been collected. You’ve got a broken washing machine? Hotch already emailed the landlord and the building’s legal obligation clause. Trash not yeeted? He’ll yeet it himself. The man has a complex Google Drive dedicated to tenant rights #prosecutor!Hotch

I will die on the hill he is a chatty grandma. Sure, he’s serious, but he knows everyone’s business, and somehow people trust him with their extra keys and gossip. He's fbi, he's cunty, he has great hair... hello???

(Like, you knock on his door and say, “Sorry to bother-” and he’s already saying, “Your cat escaped again? He's in apartment 127, do you need anything else?”)

Another reason I think he stayed in that apartment is because, most likely between s3 and 4, he started spending some time there with Jack. I’m not sure how the co-parenting with Haley worked logistically, but I can easily imagine him having Jack over on weekends when he wasn’t working, or at least trying to carve out that time. And that apartment became part of Jack’s routine, part of what "home" felt like to him, Hotch probably couldn’t bring himself to move.

I don’t think Hotch stayed there for himself. Psychologically of course, it’s not the healthiest choice (he was literally stabbed there by Foyet) but it is the best choice for his son. And unless you’re talking about his job, Jack always comes first.

And Hotch… Hotch always comes last.

I think he bottled everything up. I don’t even think he fully let himself consider that the apartment might be an unhealthy place to stay in. If the thought of moving did ever cross his mind, I’m almost certain it wasn’t about him. It wasn’t “I don’t feel safe here,” it was: What if someone breaks in again? What if Jack’s here? What if it happens when I’m not home?

He stayed because Jack knew that place. Because changing homes again would be another loss. Another shift. Another instability. And Hotch would rather carry the weight of that trauma alone than risk making his son feel displaced.

Sooooo... yep. That's it. I guess.

Thank you so so so so much for the ask!!! I'm so so so curious to know what are YOUR! thoughts!!

#ask phi #hotch's dream home #archi phi #aaron hotchner #phi mansplains architecture #some headcanons made its way into the post... sorryyyyy #Hotch x tenant!reader (me) when???

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karmaajr · 1 month ago

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okay yall sometimes I forget WHY I'm friends with people and then I suddenly remember and it's like.. woah-

FOR EXAMPLE!!! I have this friend and she used to be my best friend?? but we haven't really spoken that much this school year lol- and so ive been like?? 'should we still be friends??? we dont rlly click the way we used to'

but then!!! the story happens lol-

okay so like it's right before chemistry n its still lunch time and im being my usual self and then I'm demonstrating to magpie on how to get somebody to stop doing something that you don't want them to do bcuz like?? why not?

the tip is basically to be as loud/embarrassing as possible and so I decided I needed to demonstrate (as I, personally, am a visual learner so why not teach somebody in the way it works for me?) and I decide to try it on the es best friend I mentioned at the beginning??

so I go up to her and start telling her what happened like 20 minutes ago (year 7 ive been hanging out with crashed out on me after I squirted half her drink at her.. I SOUND LIKE AN ASS FOR THIS BUT I SWEAR THERE'S SOME CONTEXT YALL 😭😭🙏) and her eyebrows just get higher n higher n shes kinda "girl wth" -ed out

and then this other friend I have points it out and shes like "oh oopsies" and then we get a little.. uhm, silly? so like, I show her my shirt (which had gone somewhat see through due to the friend of the year 7 previously mentioned throwing HER drink at me) and then I'm like, "omg it's like, so wet.. feel it!!"

and so she places her hand on my school shirt real near my chest which is EXACTLY when i thought I had gotten her and so I go, "dang you really just can't get your hands off me, can you?" REALLY loudly and several people look over AND NORMALLY THIS IS WHEN THE OTHER PERSON GETS EMBARRASED?? WHICH WOULD'VE EFFECTIVELY TAUGHT MAGPIE HOW TO DO IT??? but then guess what girly does?

grips my shirt real tight and goes, "wow *name* I didn't expect you of all people to complain, normally you don't.. what's up today?"

JAW DROPPED.

LIKE ACTUALLY GOBSMACKED

MY FLABBERS WERE GASTED YALL.

THAT IS *NOT* A NORMAL OCCURANCE BETWEEN US (other friends maybe-) AND SHES NORMALLY NOT THE TYPE TO FLIRT WITH FRIENDS/PRETEND SHE DOES SEXUAL ACTS WITH THEM SO LIKE???

anyways she lowkey ate with that and I probably looked like an absolute wreck cuz she just laughed and booped my nose-

LIKE GIRL OKAYYY 😭😭🙏

BUT YAAAAA

#karmaajr rambles #yall I couldn't #MAGPIE LAUGHED AT MY REACTION BRO #mbmb but like. BEING GRIPPED BY MY SHIRT JUST RENDERRED ME SPEECHLESS AND YALL CANT BLAME ME FIR THATTTT 😭😭😭

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wombywoo · 1 year ago

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Helllo! I am always truly amazed by your art and it never fails to put me in a trance with all the extra things in the backgrounds of them too! I do wonder how you went about studying anatomy and such, it always is such a tedious task for me to focus on and learn about each muscle if I want to draw some beautifully handsome military men, you know?!

ahh thank so much! I try to add some special stuff to each piece, so I'm glad it's appreciated 🥰

as for anatomy, I haven't done that much *actual* study (don't ask me where the latissimus dorsi is 😔) I'm more of a visual learner. This can be achieved through figure drawing exercises, or just learning how to *perceive* (by this I mean--what is it you're actually seeing as opposed to what you expect to see?) Understanding proportions and weight and pose are all very important, and these come more from analyzing real-life people as opposed to a medical diagrams.

I think getting a good idea of where various muscles are is a good start, but I often find that when drawing a figure 'less is best'

an example here:

Sometimes, *too much* anatomical detail makes a drawing look exaggerated and more like someone's peeled his skin off, lol

I lean towards a more subtle approach to musculature, choosing which areas to highlight and which to let fade into the rest of the form.

Biggest piece of advice--use references! ALWAYS! I don't care if I've been drawing for years, I almost always have a reference on hand that I constantly refer back to. It's necessary if you want to draw something realistic, or else you might just start inventing new body parts 😭

And if all else fails--just throw some hair all over it to hide the mistakes 💅

#asks #tutorials #sorry I tried to explain this as best as I could #I'm just not very good at teaching art 😔#still--the best thing you can do is draw A LOT #and you will get better at it 💪

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dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling · 1 year ago

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Hello :>

I’m not sure if you’re just doing TADC right now and if you are pls ignore this am sorry.

If you’re not just doing that, may I ask for a 2012!Donatello x mute!reader scenario where Donnie is oblivious to his crush on reader and still attributes it to it being April until Splinter/one of his brothers brings up that he’s been a lot less fixated on April’s attention and has been starting to pick up more and more things related to the reader themselves (ex. Learning sign language to understand their responses), and when he’s alone he analyzes it and it’s an “…oh.” Moment for him?

(Reader is not deaf by the way so they can still hear things.)

Sorry if this isn’t what you’re writing for and thank you if it is!!

This is a multiple fandom blog. Although my 'tism is going burr for tadc lately, I'm more than willing to write for Donnie!

2012 Donatello x mute/def Reader

★Everyone knew what was going on with him. If you hadn't figured it out or even suspected anything I'd call you a dumb-dumb.

★ Obviously he was going to learn sigh language. There is no way he wouldn't. The turtle wasted no time, asking (bribeing) Casey to get him a book on sign language to study. He picks up the language fairly quickly.

★ if you are completely deaf he talks whilest signing when he's around you. This helps some of the visual learners in his family *cough Mikey cough* learn the language.

★ Donnie vividly remembers the time Mikey told you he loved you by accident. The sign for "I love you" is just 🤟 and he did the hand motion without knowing what it meant. Same thing happened with "hurt" as it's just 👉👈 with your fingers.

★ Splinter was the one to tell Donnie he had a crush on you. He can clearly see his son is growing attached to you and it's very obvious he has feelings for you. How the smartest one can be so oblivious, he will never know.

★ It hits him like a ton of bricks when he realizes that what he's feeling for you might not just be that of adoration. He's mostly just panicking about it but a hint of excitement sparks through him.

★ Did he really have a crush on you? Would you even feel the same way?? How long has he even liked you??? His brothers were never going to let him hear the end of this.

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt x Reader #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt x reader #donatello x you #donatello headcanons #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #donatello #tmnt 2012 x reader #2012 donatello #2012 donnie #tmnt 2k12 x reader #2012 Donatello x Reader

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g00seg1rl · 2 months ago

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Meet Broccoli

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Summary: High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra, was late for a dick appointment. The scoundrel that was one of his hounds needed to bounce around some walls that weren’t inside his home.

Aka Eris regrets not letting his dog ruin his living room because now Azriel was looking up at him, come on his face, taunting eyes and asking him who Broccoli was.

A/N: Hey azris babes, small snack for yall, 2.8k words below this cute lil hound or over on ao3! 😘

He was going to meet Azriel in their preferred Autumnal clearing. He was going to go alone, he thought pointedly as he sent a frustrated sideways glance to the overly-hyper Broccoli.

The stable hand informed him that the soon-to-be papa was practically jumping off the walls as he and Bourbon waited for her to deliver their litter.

And so Eris, oh-so-benevolently, had brought his pet to run around the Forest as he met Azriel for a dick appointment — a very scheduled and longed-for dick appointment.

He let Broccoli loose to run a mile from the clearing, hoping to give the two of them some space from the hound and vice versa, doubting the sight of his vicious hound shredding squirrels would set the mood all that well.

He would’ve walked the distance to calm his racing heart and unwelcome nerves but his loafers were hardly proper footwear to traverse the twiggy path; he supposed he should’ve known to wear more substantial shoes – hm, maybe he should’ve worn those new boots he’d gotten from Rask – but no, they wouldn’t have matched his blouse or trousers as well as the velvet flats did.

And over the nearest person’s dead body would he have changed that blouse; he'd been wanting to wear the navy silk shirt for Azriel since he saw it through an ateliers storefront in Rhoades. He wore deep charcoal slacks, an array of gold studs in his pointed ears and rings on his long fingers. His copper hair flowed down his back in loose curls.

As he magically emerged in the center of the clearing that they’d defiled or blessed, depends who you ask, countless times over the centuries, he instantly clocked the musky smell of mist and cedar. He inhaled deeply through his nose and heard a deep, rumbling chuckle behind him.

He swiveled to see the Shadowsinger, decked out in his typical leathers, leaning against a thick oak tree, biceps bulging as he crossed his arms over his chest, a smug grin painting his pretty face.

“Do I smell that good?” he asked, with a minxy tilt of his head.

“You smell horny,” Eris noted, a tad proud.

A dark glint flickered over his bright hazel eyes. “You have been keeping me waiting,” he reasoned.

“Is testing your patience arousing, Spymaster?” Eris asked, supposing it would explain the career path.

“Standing in this memorable forest, waiting for you to come, thinking of making you come – all very horny inducing.” Azriel’s voice grew hoarser as he went on, pushing off the tree and striding towards the High Lord. “Now if you’ll do me the honor, I would appreciate showing you just how wanton I am with more than scent.”

Eris’s breath caught. Azriel chuckled and those voyeuristic shadows of his delivered the Singer abruptly in front of him, wings wide and crowding.

Eris felt his face flood with heat, and he might have made some sort of squeaking sound. Azriel was so close now, emanating desire and looking at him so, so intently.

“I have always been a visual learner,” he replied, fighting the nervous edge in his voice.

“Then pay close attention, Autumn,” Azriel ordered as he sank to his knees – as if Eris could ever look away.

The Shadowsinger on his knees was a sight that would never lose its novelty, that dizzying downward rush of blood, the heady fluttering of his anticipatory heart. It all made his head spin, in a delectable, delirious sort of way.

Eris swallowed the influx of saliva in mouth. His dick was already rock hard and they hadn’t even kissed, yet. Whose horrible planning was that?

Azriel’s right hand reached to give him some release. Eris wished he could kiss him, but fucking his face would have to do.

He buried his fingers in Azriel’s raven curls, running deft nails up and down, pulling a rumbling purr from the Spymaster.

Like a large hound, Eris snickered to himself.

He stopped snickering to groan, loudly, when Azriel first laid a hand on him, a tight, clenching fist, spat in unceremoniously. Not that there was a hand-spitting ceremony he knew of, for the record.

His other hand raked up Eris’s porcelain abs, shadows sneakily unclasping the ivory buttons as they passed with Azriel’s hand. Marred fingers tweaked his left nipple, the scars of his skin created an overwhelming friction that had Eris’s toes curling in his loafers. His shirt silently fell to the ground.

Eris knew intimately how hot Azriel’s tongue was, and when it ran over the male’s lower lip he was rabidly jealous. Azriel looked up to Eris with darkened hazel eyes.

“Would you hurry up?” Eris keened, jerking his hips urgently into Azriel’s fist, and waiting not very patiently for the Illyrian to open his mouth. He halted the scalp massage to tug the smirking male forward.

“So needy today, High Lord. You should’ve called me here sooner.” Azriel taunted. His fingers brushed sideways to roll Eris’s other nipple between them. It felt delicious; he felt ungrateful for not appreciating being touched by Az, he just craved for more.

“Mmhm, yes, shoulda coulda woulda, can you please open your mouth now?” Eris whined, bucking his hips again.

“Aw saying please already,” Azriel cooed but fucking finally lapped at the bead of precome that was probably about to drip onto his leathers.

“Hhnnm,” Eris shuddered as Azriel, the tease, placed a light kiss on the slit of his tip. His tongue chased for more, and Eris’s knees felt weak.

He threaded his fingers down, opening Azriel’s mouth because apparently the Illyrian had forgotten how to. Azriel parted his lips, their corners pulling into an amused smirk Eris was so very happy he’d get to fuck away.

“Ohh fuuuck,” Eris groaned as Azriel pushed his tongue out to rest teasingly over his bottom lip. Eris would have none of it; he canted his hips forward as he pulled Azriel sharply closer. He feared he was going to come the instant Azriel’s hot, wet tongue made contact with the flushed, sensitive skin of his cock. Thankfully he didn’t, or he might have set the forest aflame in shame for wasting this precious mouth.

Eris moaned loud enough to scare the birds from their branches, as the menace that was his unofficial malefriend hummed whorishly as he took him deeper and deeper into the slick and watering velvety channel that was his heavenly throat. No matter how many times he’d gotten Azriel’s mouth, the overwhelming pleasure always caught him off guard.

Azriel grabbed handfuls of Eris’s ass as soon as Eris’s dick was far enough past his lips that it no longer required a leveling hand. Kneading and needy, Azriel made his way up to slip into and lower Eris’s pants, sliding them down to his knees.

“Azriel!” Eris nearly howled when Azriel swallowed around his length, then broke off into ragged moans as he began thrusted shallowly, sliding his cock languidly back and forth over Azriel’s tongue. Azriel, the perfect slut that he was, was having none of Eris’s slow, trying-not-to-come bullshit, though the only warning of his rabidity was a sinful glint in his watering eyes.

Azriel bobbed his head forward insistently, his lips wrapping tight as he salaciously sucked his way to forcefully shoving Eris off pleasure’s tantalizing precipice. His tongue, the wicked thing, swished across the underside of Eris’s cock. Eris’s back arched and his head fell back; a puff of smoke escaped his slack jaw, expelling none of the volcanic heat he felt building inside himself.

“AaaHHH, SWEET MOTHER ABOVE!” Eris cried. His chest heaved and his fingers tightened in Azriel’s hair; he felt like he was slipping out of reality, nothing could possibly feel this good.

Azriel grazed his teeth against the vein on the underside of his cock in reprimand, principally opposed to the Mother's name being used in vain. Azriel was in no position to flex religion but Eris groaned passively.

Some of Azriel’s shadows tickled Eris’s thighs, others – the kinkier ones – wound up his body to pull and rub coolly against his nipples. “Mmnhhn.” Eris shuddered. Then not so demurely, bleated as the most daring of the bunch fondled his taut balls.

Eris looked down as he ground his hips forward, inserting the last inch or two of his cock past Azriel’s reddening, working lips. He took it beautifully; tears formed at the edge of his eyes and his jaw was doubtlessly aching, but he took it like he needed it. Eris wanted to wipe them away and make him spring more.

He was not Autumnal, yet Azriel seemed to have a special way with Eris’s molten body that not even his own fae could handle. Azriel swallowed again, and having most of Eris’s cock down his throat felt heavenly. No, more than that – it felt like what a saint’s reward might be if all the sycophants and gluttons around him claimed upcoming heaven. Azriel was an ethereal pleasure Eris never deserved but always savored.

Azriel moaned, letting his eyes fall shut and the tears escaped as he bottomed out, his nose tickling copper hairs. He didn’t stay, didn’t allow Eris to relish his mouth before he withdrew to the tip and made his slick way down to Eris’s base again, and then again, and then hypnotizingly again.

Azriel’s hands ran down the cleft of Eris’s ass, spreading the fat of his cheeks to expose his hole to the crisp Autumn air. A somehow oiled finger – those shadows were earning their keep – circled his rim gently – okay, not so gently. Azriel pushed his thick finger past the tight ring of muscle Eris was trying to relax.

The thoughtful devil took Eris’s vacant mind off the stinging stretch of his finger with a clenching gag and an especially deep stroke. He curved his finger at the knuckle and dragged slowly back out till the tip of his finger, thrusting two back in as he swallowed and his slick throat constricted around Eris.

Eris perked his ass back, trying to chase Azriel’s fingers. Azriel’s pretty eyes opened, glossy and darkened, a prideful tinge to their hazel. The Illyrian‘s ever-confident shades sneaked inside Eris along with Azriel’s fingers.

“AHHH WHATTHE –!” Eris jolted, and Azriel’s shoulders shook with laughter.

The shadows bore down on Eris’s prostate, brushing back and forth with varying, randomly increased pressure, never allowing Eris to accommodate their presence. Azriel scissored his fingers, stretching him wide for his doubtlessly desperate dick.

It wasn’t the shadows or the fingers that finished him off, it was a sloppy gag that had Eris yanking Azriel back by his hair and coming all over his bronze cheekbones.

“Warning would’ve been appreciated.”

“Hahng,” Eris sort of replied.

His vision was still swimming but the blurred image of Azriel with white ropes painting his face was still gorgeous. Unfortunately the half-sight robbed his attention so entirely that he didn’t see his hound darting through the clearing until Broccoli was already chasing his prey, a pitiful fox, through the trees on their right.

Azriel’s back went ramrod straight at the loud growling and thunder of heavy claws raced behind them. Azriel pulled his fingers out, but the shadows spread and filled Eris’s hole, keeping him fuckable. If this dog cost him any more of Azriel’s attention, he would gift him to Tamlin.

“Broccoli! Rush!” Eris ordered, goading him to hunt beyond the treeline.

The fox and the hound disappeared from eyesight, taking Eris’s blissful dissociative state along with them.

“Broccoli?” Azriel queried, his voice laced with laughter and far too much judgment for Eris’s liking.

Eris snorted, and lifted his knee. He pressed his toes hard against Azriel’s leather-covered cock, and taunted, “Would you really like to discuss vegetables at the moment?”

Azriel, who’s a menace in case he hadn’t mentioned, barked out a laugh (the second proof of his dog-like demeanor) and ground his hips into Eris’s shoe.

“You underestimate my ability to interrogate?” Azriel husked.

Eris whined, “Ugh, can we talk about this later?” He truly didn’t want to waste another moment.

“We will most definitely be talking about this later.” Azriel smirked.

Eris chuckled and lifted his foot to hover above Azriel’s bulging leathers. He sniggered at how needily Azriel chased after it.

Az growled (evidential item number three), and pulled Eris down by his knees, still bound by the taut fabric of his pants that had only partly been removed.

“Omph.” He landed with a huff. Before he could complain, Azriel grabbed his waist and smoothly flipped him onto all fours.

“Didn’t you just complain about the lack of warnings?” Eris breathed... and also arched his back.

“You did just step on my dick – I don't recall a ‘watch out,’” Azriel unfortunately recalled correctly.

“Was the hasty manhandling for show or do you plan on fucking me any day now?” Eris goaded.

The cool spread of shades leaving his fluttering hole and the shuffling of leather answered for the Shadowsinger.

Eris felt his very soul shudder as Azriel circled his malleable rim with his thick, slick tip; It didn’t take much pressure for Azriel to thrust inside.

“Oh – AAAHH!” Eris shouted as Azriel rammed in. His elbows buckled and he braced himself on his forearms to avoid burying his face in soil.

“Mmn, s’fuckin’ tight,” Azriel bit out as he fucked his endless and girthy length deep inside Eris.

“Hnnmnhng,” Eris groaned, digging his elbows in the ground and sending his hips back.

“Oh fuck Eris,” Azriel husked and grabbed hold of his trim waist, aiding the High Lord’s momentum.

“HmNG – hnmMN – MMN,” They moaned over one another, each meeting of their pelvises threatened to knock Eris off the edge he’d barely just climbed back up onto.

Azriel’s thrusts got sharper, stilling Eris’s efforts to keep up. He fucked Eris into the ground, offering his body no mercy as he bore down on his hole. The messy sound of oiled, slapping skin brought a deeper blush to Eris’s already flushed face.

“Fuck fuck fuck Azriel Azriel Azriel – AZRIEL!” Eris chanted as all his nerves lit up with overwhelming pleasure and he came once more.

“Ohh Eris!” Azriel roared as he finished, pulling Eris flush against him as he ground his hips deep. His heavy cock pulsed and he filled Eris to the brim and then some.

Hot come dripped down his thighs, making him shiver.

The hefty Illyrian collapsed on top of him with all the grace of an elephant trying ballet. Eris grumbled but didn’t do anything to move, the weight felt nice.

The cottony sound in his ears lessened slowly as he recouped his senses. The comforting weight of Azriel was offering a stability not even his Autumnal ground could.

Az eventually groaned and lifted himself up, his softened length slipping slickly out of Eris. A strong arm wrapped around Eris’s middle and hoisted him up. He melted against Azriel’s chest, the cool leather soothing his flush skin. Shadows aided the effort.

He focused on breathing in cedar and mist, the calming feeling of Azriel’s skin against his and the chittering of the woods around them as he regained lucidity.

“When can I see you again?” Azriel murmured against the shell of his ear.

Eris smiled to himself. “Why don’t you try and surprise me?”

“What happened to wanting warnings?” Az teased, his voice a bit ginger.

“Turns out you’re favorable unconditionally.”

“Not to tempt fate, but can I ask why the fuck your hound’s name is Broccoli?”

Eris snorted, “It was Lucien, I swear.”

“Aha,” Az chuckled. ”Broccoli, a beast of legends –”

“Okay, beast feels a bit derogatory,” Eris objected, doing his best to prolong the preamble and avoiding Azriel’s teasing.

“Oh since when? You’ve said you love me beastly.”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, perhaps you misheard me saying ‘I love you, beast’.”

“Deny it all you’d like, my dear, but if it’s good enough for me then it’s good enough for Broccoli.”

“I’m not sure where the confidence came from, my hounds far outrank you Shadowsinger,” Eris deadpanned, fighting the grin threatening his composure.

“Oh come on, there are twelve of them in Prythian and only one of me,” Azriel complained egotistically.

“Hmm, sounds to me like you’re getting awfully jealous of my dogs, Azriel. Perhaps I can offer you some of their… treatments?”

He would not be opposed to walking the Shadowsinger around, or making him hunt for their dinner. And he would quite like to see his tan neck collared.

Azriel snorted and turned his come-covered face away, fighting a blush or grin Eris refused to miss. He clasped Azriel’s jaw between his forefingers and brought their lips close to one another.

“No need for envy, dear, I’m all yours.”

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! 💗

Thank you so much @the-darkestminds for helping me come up with this when I wanted to write some Azris and none of my wips were flowing 😘 thank you @makinglongwordsslutty for beta reading on short notice, mwah mwah mwah 💗

My Azris boo thangs (affectionate nd respectful): @nus4y @astro-h0e-4azris @jules-writes-stories @mistandmemories @pippsmcgee @mudandmire @iftheshoef1tz @icey--stars @ninthcircleofprythian @molcat07 @missblackstar @irithiadourden @fourteentrout @3xolara @brunetterebel010 @sunstar-drabbles @chunkypossum @neciebee please do lmk if you’d like on/off my tag list 💗

For more of my silly hound lore, the dinner conversation of Civil Shitshow explains it a bit lol

#azris #azris supremacy #smut #fluff and humor #azris fluff #azris smut #eris vanserra #azriel #azris fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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midnight--sadness · 3 months ago

Note

Heyyyy it’s me, burlesque guy, I’m glad you fuck with my cooking. Anyway, *tugs my chef hat on* here we go. Let it be known I was listening to “partition” by Beyoncé while writing this

In-ho has no interest in seeing the other dancers once Gi-hun scampers backstage. He finishes his drink and leaves, sitting in the back of his car. It takes thirty minutes, maybe less, for his phone to ring. When he picks up, he hears Gi-hun’s voice, loud and clear, without the din of the club’s music.

“I’m outside. Where are you?”

In-ho makes a gesture. His driver, a man who calls himself the “Recruiter” (why, In-ho didn’t know, but he drove fast and didn’t ask questions), flashes the headlights. He can see Gi-hun in the lights, can hear his breath hitch. He’s still in his costume, which sends a possessive thrill down In-ho’s spine. His costume looks like cherry candy in this light, sweet and made to be devoured. Gi-hun squints into the light, and starts walking toward him. In-ho opens the door, but Gi-hun pauses.

“I’m not a professional, you know that, right? There’s probably someone else you could hire.”

“Why would I want them? You’re a beautiful man and a very good dancer, so I think I’m rather lucky to have some of your time.”

Perhaps it’s the chill in the breeze that turns Gi-hun’s cheeks pink, but In-ho doubts that’s the case. Gi-hun looks hesitantly between him and the car. Up close, in the low light, he looks so much different. He’d wiped his makeup off, but his lips still looked so sweet and pink, like fruit fresh off the vine. His hair wasn’t pinned back anymore, either, falling in soft waves to his shoulders. In-ho’s hands twitch with the urge to touch a dark strand of hair.

“I don’t even know your name,” Gi-hun murmurs. His eyes flick up and down In-ho’s body, then off to the distance.

“It was on my business card.”

“Well, I mean, I think there’s a difference between hearing someone’s name from their mouth and reading it.”

In-ho nods, neglecting to mention he only knows Gi-hun’s name from reading it off his glove.

“My name is In-ho. Hwang In-ho.

“Gi-hun,” he responds. He eyes the car. “Your car is nice.”

“It’s even nicer inside.”

Gi-hun still looks nervous. In-ho raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want, okay? Just a private show.”

“Just a private show,” Gi-hun parrots.

“You won’t mind conversation, though, on our way to my place?”

Gi-hun shakes his head, and sits on the plush leather seats of In-ho’s car. In-ho joins, the two of them in the back seat. Recruiter glances back at them in the mirror. In-ho gestures at him to roll the partition up. The Recruiter wags his brows, but the partition raises slowly, until opaque glass separates the two of them from him.

In-ho watches Gi-hun squirm for a few moments, then speaks.

“You’re still in your costume,” he says. Gi-hun laughs softly.

“Yeah, uh. It’s my only costume, and I was already in it… honestly, I didn’t want the struggle of putting the corset back on.”

In-ho’s mouth goes dry at the mental image of Gi-hun pulling his corset on, tight around his waist like a strong pair of arms.

“Sounds hard,” he says, crossing his legs.

“Yeah, but it’s a good corset. I don’t want to talk about how much it cost.”

In-ho grins.

“It looks very good on you, though,” In-ho comments, “purchased with the money you made dancing, I assume?”

Gi-hun laughs.

“No, I work as a bartender at the club. The dancing’s just for fun. It makes me feel really good about myself. I used to dance at home a lot, just for fun, but I started dancing at the club after I had my daughter, just to feel like my body’s mine again, you know?”

“After you had your daughter?”

Gi-hun flushes.

“I, uh. I’m divorced, if that’s what’s worrying you. And I was, I mean I am, trans. So I have a…”

Have a what? I’m a visual learner, by the way, In-ho almost says. He tightens his hands into fists, but he can’t stop imagining what the rhinestones of Gi-hun’s corset would feel like, grabbing the man’s waist while he sat on his face, eating his pussy like it’d be the last thing he’d ever do. He smiles genially.

“That’s okay,” he promises, setting his hand on Gi-hun’s knee, “I hired you because you’re a good dancer, yeah? Handsome, too.”

“Thank you… it’s nice to hear that. You’re not too bad looking yourself.”

“I’m a terrible dancer, though,” In-ho laughs.

“Really? You look…”

Gi-hun’s eyes trace In-ho up and down hungrily. He flushes again, running a hand through his hair. In-ho shifts closer to him.

“I bet you could get a new costume with the money from this show,” In-ho purrs. “Something blue, maybe? With slits up the side, to show off those lovely legs.”

Gi-hun turns to face him, soft chest heaving with every breath. He laughs shyly, and extends one of his legs over In-ho’s lap.

“What, these legs?”

In-ho takes his ankle in his hand, surprised at how easily his hand curls around it. Gi-hun is equally surprised, probably at the touch. In-ho pulls Gi-hun’s leg closer, and presses a kiss to the inside of his ankle. Gi-hun gasps, but he doesn’t move away. He keeps his leg there, even as In-ho unclips his seatbelt to lean forward, peppering kisses up to his knee.

“Thought this was just a private show,” Gi-hun breathlessly teases. In-ho sinks his teeth into the meat of his thigh. Gi-hun gasps, and yanks his leg away. Before In-ho can stutter out an apology, Gi-hun’s straddling him, tits barely inches away from his face.

In-ho looks up at him ferally. He curls a hand through Gi-hun’s soft hair and pulls him into a kiss. Their teeth click with mutual eagerness, but In-ho quickly takes control, pressing Gi-hun up against the partition and sliding his tongue into his mouth. Gi-hun tastes like overly sweet soju, a drink for courage, maybe. Gi-hun grabs onto anything he can, one hand against the window, another hand on the partition. In-ho breaks the kiss with a gasp. Gi-hun’s lips are slick with spit.

“I’ll pay you double if you let me eat you out right now,” In-ho pants. Gi-hun laughs breathlessly.

“Aww, and get me dirty before your show?”

In-ho can’t find the words to express how badly he wants Gi-hun right now. He just snarls.

“Don’t be like that. I want to give you a show,” Gi-hun chuckles, “I think you’re the first person to like my dancing this much.” He accentuates his words with a roll of his hips, panties grinding against In-ho’s clothed bulge. In-ho’s hands jump to his waist and hold it tight, barely able to appreciate its perfect, delicate curve.

“If you don’t hike up your skirt…”

Gi-hun’s hand finds the back of his head. He pushes his tits forward, until In-ho’s face is right up against them.

“You can entertain yourself until we’re at your place, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t think you’d be such a fucking tease.”

Gi-hun chuckles awkwardly.

“I didn’t either, but I like this.”

In-ho leans forward. He presses a kiss to the plump curve of Gi-hun’s tit, one of his hands trailing down to grope his ass over his skirt. Gi-hun whines, a little petulant sounding, only encouraging In-ho to kiss more, savoring the warmth of the man’s smooth, perfect skin. He nips his breast softly, and Gi-hun rewards him by rocking his hips against him with a perfect moan. In-ho grabs his ass and guides his pace, until the two of them are grinding against each other, hot and desperate.

On the other side of the partition, the Recruiter is driving with one hand on the wheel, the other palming himself through his slacks. He only hopes that In-ho will bring this dancer along for more rides… and that they won’t notice that he’s been taking nothing but left turns since they started making out.

Gi-hun moans, and hand presses against the partition. The Recruiter signals right. Again.

Oh, they wouldn’t notice a thing.

(Once again, I think I cooked for too long. Bon Appétit :3)

BOY U ATE THIS SO BADDD

also partition is a gihun song in every universe 😤

#talented brilliant incredible amazing show stopping spectacular never the same totally unique #asks #yapping 4ever #squid game #seong gi-hu #hwang in-ho #burlesque au #inhun #457 #ginho

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beeandthescreen · 3 months ago

Text

In Unholy Matrimony

E | Vampyr!Ellen x Thomas | Canon Divergence | 3/?

Ao3 | Dawn, once again, brings about whispers of death.

All ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Trigger Warning: Nonlinear narrative, I know, don’t stone me. They are separated by line breaks because I am kind and think of all you visual learners. Somehow this ended up longer than the first two chapters combined because I have no self-control and WILL indulge myself.

——————————————————————————————————

Beneath the heaviest downpour of the year, Thomas races through the streets of Wisborg.

His determination is a pinhole. He cares for nothing but the path to the graveyard. Even when he feels the tendons of his knees may sever, when the chambers in his heart may burst, he surges forth.

In spite of his urgency, he keeps his footing steady. He allows himself a glance behind him, seeing that Ellen has yet to stir from her trance. He tightens his grip. Rainwater soaks his nightshirt and floods his boots. Blisters form between his toes.

He will not falter.

The seller carts are barren and the knocker-uppers in bed. There is little to do in weather so unyielding. His Ellen, too, does not stir.

In his brief moments of thoughtfulness, he notes some things. Her chest does not rise and fall. No breath tickles his neck. She has become heavier. It is as if she has been recarved in lead, un-hollowed, solidified through and through. Thomas uses her to ground him and anchor him to the earth, which has become very irregular.

He is strangely reminded of his mother.

She would sit with him by the window sill on days much like this, feeding him candied peels. Sweet boy, She would speak into his hair, telling him stories of old. Of dwarves, faeries, princesses, and, when it thundered, monsters.

Once, over a particular summer, he had grown almost a foot. It had been the first time he’d left her without his company. Thomas had told her he was much too grown for the silliness of children. Not silly. He now thinks. Not silly at all.

She had smiled, as she always did, but there was a tightness around her eyes he had pointedly ignored. Years past, when he’d begun his apprenticeship, she would continue to sit in the comfort of grey clouds. Even so, she had never failed to leave his seat open.

She had been a woman of great insight, much like his love. He’d found joy speaking to his mother, he’d thought her so charming, so warm. He has not been home in an age, despite them being only a day’s ride from Fredrich’s manor. He’d planned to bring her home after he’d secured his place at the firm. After he had something to show of himself.

She…she would have loved Ellen. She would’ve found a daughter in her- and perhaps they may meet, should he reach the damned fucking mausoleum- ——————————————————————————————————

“Release me.”

Even with her words, she’s white-knuckling his collar in the most crushing of grips. Thomas tries to meet her eyes, but they dart around the room, beady and dark. He is cupping her face, trying to think.

“I am with you.” He replies, Instead of ripping his hair out. He presses his cheek against the hard line of her hand. If anything was so true, it was such. That, and the simple fact that he is so very lost.

Ellen’s senses return in short, agonizing bursts. Thomas is still reeling from the moments prior and can do little but sit with her. The invasion had been of the same sort as the castle- no, that had been worse. He can’t leave. He never left, he is always there, in that room. On the floor, holes in his chest, teeth nipping at his heels-

“You would hold me, still?” She asks, face devoid. Regardless, he can see the minute shake of her lip, the undercurrent of doubt and fear beneath her flat affect. Thomas blinks away the upset and considers.

Slowly, he tucks a stray hair behind her ear. His Ellen. So severe, so beauteous. He would give all to peer inside of her, to turn over every artery, every vein, just so he could know her further. In truth, Thomas knows there is nothing she can do to turn him away. He is in an ever-perpetual state of awaiting. Awaiting her embrace, her voice, her presence, her. It has always been, and always will be, Ellen. He knew her even when he hadn’t, and he will know her even when he is purged from this world. To reject her would be to reject himself, and that could not be.

“Without question.” He answers, voice steady.

She is not so convinced. “I am ruined.”

“You are alive.” His heart swells with conviction. “For that, I am the most fortunate of all men,” he adds, holding her gaze.

“I will never fault you for your distress. I try to stand in your place and I cannot begin to comprehend the strength you hold.” Thomas thinks of himself and sees three men. Before her, after her, and now. One more changed than the last.

Collectively, they cannot hold a candle to the woman before him. Ellen is a force, and he knows that she will persevere. He would lift her from the depths as many times as needed.

There is an unspoken line drawn. There are many things to address, but later, when they can begin to make sense of the madness that has been lain at their feet.

Many a thing flicker across Ellen’s face. Not all of them are pleasant. Still, in the end, her pupils bloom and the wrinkle in her brow flattens. Her lips part and her jaw quivers with words unsaid.

He stares back and knows nothing but love.

The ground, which had been as precarious as shifting grain, begins to right itself once more.

The threads of her being have never slowed their entwining with his own. Ever since that lone, spring day- when he had gazed upon her for the first time- he had known possession. Because that is what she had done. Engulfed him so fully he lost all sense.

Even in her absence, he’d felt its tug. Even in turmoil, he welcomes it readily.

“And you are a fool.” She says, soft, loving, and bitter. She is far from placated, but it is enough.

For now.

“Yours.” He reminds her, allowing himself the amusement. She lightens. It lasts but a moment. His eyes flicker to the weeping wounds on her neck and he startles.

“You are hurt-” He quickly untucks his nightshirt from his bottoms, giving the edge a sharp tug. The tear produces a good amount of fabric. Ellen blinks at his flurry, unsure of where to look. She examines herself.

“Just a moment, love.” He murmurs. He loops it behind her collar and covers most of the damage with a tight, but comfortable, knot.

Her hand flies to the makeshift bandage, attempting to push a finger under, but he softly steers it away with a tch. He takes it into his own and uses it to guide her to her feet. She follows- a faraway look on her face. He leads her to the washing room, settling her in front of the copper sink.

He does not consider, and he so wishes he did, that the sight of herself, or lack thereof, would be upsetting.

Ellen sucks in a sharp breath.

There, in their small chipped mirror, is Thomas.

Only Thomas.

-And Ellen’s disembodied, soiled gown. ——————————————————————————————————

The onslaught is blinding. He relies on his memory and snippets of blurred lamplight to lead him true. A flash of light and an apocalyptic rumble leave his ears ringing.

“Make haste, make haste, make haste-” Thomas skids on his heels, turning the most important corner of his life, and is bestowed its dark, terrible outline.

He hikes Ellen up, tightening his grip on the underside of her thighs. He takes a single step, and the faint, almost imperceptible, light of dawn begins to peek through gray.

Thomas hurries.

He slams his shoulder against the gate. A flock of crows crowding the overhang of the tomb scatter. He slips past their flurry, and into the dark- So very glad for it. He wastes not a second. He gently peels her body from his back, and lowers her into her bed of lilies.

They’ve wilted, more than a week would allow.

He presses a harried kiss to her forehead and fights the broken coffin lid to a close.

A blink, and he is outside once more, fingers in the mud, shoveling handfuls into the scoop of his shirt. At its fill, he returns to his Ellen, and lets it spill atop her abdomen with a sharp schlop!

The logistics of this are comical to even consider. He is thankful for the wise lunacy of Professor Von Franz. The soil, he had told him- what seemed like an age ago now- his finger pressed against a page. He brings the earth with him, so he may rest in it at night. Clever beast.

It is a harried, rushed rhythm- but a rhythm nonetheless. Thomas notices that the rain has ceased its assault. He blankets her in wet dirt until she is engulfed.

With the last pour, a cock crows, and the city is washed in light. ——————————————————————————————————

Her hands fly to her face, then her chest, then the folds of her dress. She begins to tug and rip. Perhaps it is a trick of the light–

Shards of glass spill into the sink basin, Thomas pulls her away, speaking words she cannot hear.

She is suddenly so very tired.

The edges of her vision blur and desaturate. Everything grows and shrinks. It is loud, then quiet. Her chest flares with pain, then, she has no chest at all. She is a floating mass, writhing in perpetuity.

She is plucked from the earth. It is a sharp tug by a clawed, rotted hand. The dark is not safe, nor is it helpful, but it is familiar.

It is inconsequential compared to the metamorphosis she has so obviously gone through. Perhaps it is merely the tipping point– and tip she does.

She is pulled within her own mind, succumbing.

——————————————————————————————————

He shuts the mausoleum doors tight. It does nothing to calm his anxious heart. He pats at the walls until he finds the sconce, and is lucky enough to find the accompanied matches.

The room erupts in flickering orange, and Thomas collapses.

He drags himself to the dias, hand reaching for the lip of her casket. When it catches, he sticks to it like a lifeline.

It feels almost foolish to have his hands clasped in prayer. So be it. His reservations have long left him. He begins to fill the crypt with a whispered Sancti Angeli- but stops before he can finish the first stanza.

The chance of an exorcism may be small, but not impossible. He, instead, retreats inward.

Do not take her from me. He squeezes tight, forehead pressing against the cool wood of the coffin. His chest constricts. I would give anything, anything. Hear me now. Let her live again.

Thomas pleads. Hours pass and, perchance, a being takes pity for him– as he is granted the pillowed reprieve of a dream.

——————————————————————————————————

Beneath a tree, Ellen draws. The parchment and the sides of her hands are stained with blunted charcoal. The sketchings shift and morph into many a thing. Folds of a muddied gown, a shattered mirror, a wilting bouquet, a castle on a hill. She’s forgone her copies and has begun to stray into her own mind for reference. She enjoys it more, this way. Though her governess would have chastised her for doing so.

She’s long abandoned her bonnet. Her hair is scarcely free, with Fredrich about. She does favor her weekends with Anna, but her husband is of a certain disposition Ellen finds clashes with her own. He is tolerant, yes, but…she prefers the field.

Also, she is not so blind to miss the looks the two so often exchange.

The grass blankets the sprawling landscape, allowing Ellen to trace the dotted sea of white daises with a soft appreciation. It soothes the ills of the printed wallpapers and carved stone of her father’s manor. She finds that she has never equated a roof with safety. No. It is better to look at the stars and ponder on which one might suit you best; To pet sheep and cows and tell them of her ills; To pick bugs from the soil and admire the color of their shells.

The crunch of grass. “It is only beyond the hill, Gingerbug. Think of the apples, core and all.”

Ellen startles, a soft jerk smudging the coupled doves in the corner of her fifth page. The voice feels familiar to her, a soothing balm that pulls her forth. A name sits just at the tip of her tongue. She does not know it but still feels the need to call it out.

A whinny. “Sweet girl, we will rest only for a moment.” The voice is closer. A series of clinks, and then, a soft thud. “I find it most pretty here. We rarely visit this season. Come, let us look at what spring has to offer. The young master wouldn’t mind, I do not think he would disparage me for allowing him more time with his wife.” A chuckle, almost musical.

She abandons her work, propping herself on an arm. Her hand presses against the rough bark, heart in her throat. Blood rushes to her ears. Ellen leans far enough to peek around the thick trunk. Silent.

It is a man and his horse.

His back is turned. He’s removed its saddle and has begun to brush it softly, patting and speaking freely of things most mundane. The mare huffs and chortles on occasion, as if to reply. She finds herself most taken with the sight.

He is a brunette, impressively tall, and sporting worn, practical travel wear. When he rids himself of his overcoat and gloves, she sees the hard line of his shoulders, the taper of his middle, hugged firmly by a cinched, leather waistcoat. When he shoves his sleeves above his elbows and reveals hard, sturdy forearms, Ellen begins to feel perverse.

I have yet to see his face. She thinks as she begins to pull away. I would see it, and then, I will hide behind this tree until I am rid of him.

Ultimately, it is a mistake. He turns to shake the loose hair from his wire brush, and Ellen despairs—

–for he is handsome. Impossibly so. Of course, amid her girlish swooning, it is then he decides to gain an awareness of some sort.

Their eyes meet, and Ellen’s resolve whittles away into nothing. She does not retreat. She does not cower. She stares back, face bereft of surprise or apology.

A beat.

Then, “Oh–” the man drops his brush in surprise. It takes a moment, for he looks overcome, but he quickly snatches it up, holding the handle in both hands. “--My lady.”

He looks so unsure, so pathetic in his floundering. He gives her a curt bow, pressing the brush against his chest in lieu of his hat. “Forgive me for my thoughtlessness. You must think me blind.” The mare- Gingerbug, how lovely– whinnies.

“Fret not.” She begins, transfixed. “There has been no intrusion.” For It is I who should apologize. One would think I would wish to drag you into the woods “There is no offense in the enjoyment of beauty.”

His face flares. She thinks he might faint.

“The field.” She clarifies. “The field is beautiful.”

“Yes!” He is too quick to assure. He startles himself, adjusting his volume with a cough. “I…I scarcely see it at this time of year.” He glances at something above her eyeline, and quickly looks away.

Her hair is undone.

Ellen rises, urged by the curse of her curiosity. She crosses the respectable barrier the tree had provided. Her drawings remain in the dirt, heavied by a rock. She is over-dressed, for she had given Anna the excuse that she would be attending church. She is glad for it, hoping the veil of sophistication would not make her so strange to him. He seems the nervous sort.

At her approach, he goes stiff. She’s gathered her skirts, tip-toeing around the large, varied roots to close the gap between them. She stops when she’s given a good enough view of his features to begin to commit them to memory. Ah, she should respond.

“I do not know it at any other time.” Ellen answers, soft and considering, eyes following the line of his nose. The bow of his lips.

Spring was the time for excursions. Her father was away this time of year for business, and could not protest his unmarried daughters’ wishes. At one and eight, she is being thrown suitors by the hour. None of them are of any sort of notable nature. They are her father in various forms. Prideful, arrogant, mean, and so very wealthy.

“Oh, you must see it in the winter.” his demeanor changes, coming alive, at that moment. He sounds as he did when he thought it was just him and Gingerbug, sweet, earnest. “It is most breathtaking. There are these foxes- they burrow into the snow to catch mice. If you are quiet enough, you could spend an entire weekend watching them dig.” He blooms, beginning to use his hands. A thick strand of hair falls across his forehead. He points across the road, a vague gesture she assumes represents their hunting grounds. “There. You must visit, though I do recommend two coats.”

At the end of his spiel, he comes to. She notes the embarrassment that floods his face. He retracts himself, swallowing. “It gets...cold.” he finishes, lamely, and grows quiet.

She is displeased with it.

“-and what of summer?” She finds herself asking, eager, wanting more. More of what, exactly, she did not know. “Of autumn? You would be most kind to tell me.”

He stares, almost bewildered.

Most unexpectedly, he humors her.

“In Summer the air is sweet.” He begins “The apple trees flower, and the wind carries the petals far. Autumn is the harvest, there is a festival—” a swallow “People of all standings gather and make merry. It is nice.” His brows scrunch, his line of thought trailing off. He tosses the wire brush into the nearby pile of miscellaneous horse dressings. He eyes it for a moment before he shifts the conversation entirely.

“Do you not hail from here?” He asks, hesitant. The horse has begun to eat the grass behind him, content to leave the two to their floundering. It is not a direct ‘Where do you live?’, but Ellen takes it as such. For once, She, too, finds herself with loose lips.

“I am a day’s ride west.” she begins. He has the longest of lashes. “Hamburg. I come here when I tire of it.” She gestures to the tree behind her. She has never considered that it is always this tree, not any of the dozens that litter the forest edge. “It is, in my opinion, the loveliest of views.”

“I am keen to agree, my lady.” he says, softly, almost unaware of how it sounds when he does not even attempt to look at the scenery.

Her face heats. She does not recall a time in her life similar to this. Men were the most blurry of creatures. She would curtsy. She would cover her hair. She would smile and speak in the lowest of tones– But ne’er has she enjoyed one’s company to such an extent. They were a fixture of life in the same essence as a drawing room chair. They just were.

Of course, for Men do not suit one such as you– a woman not of this world.

Ellen primly clears her throat. “And you?” she prompts. The more they speak the more she is reluctant to think of the eventual parting. Should it be so unthinkable, that she desires something?

But a woman does not have desires, she only fulfills them.

“East.” he answers, eager. “Wisborg.” the neighboring port city. She had been once when her father had begun to stick his fingers in dealings with foreign goods. Her dreams had worsened there. She’d declined any summons since, even from Anna.

“I recall it. The smell, especially so.” She jests so rarely, but she finds it easy, now. He huffs out a laugh, swiping at his nose in reminder. “Ah, yes, it is quite charming.” the smile remains, lingering. Ellen has gotten closer, somehow, her feet more honest in her wants than anything else. Stupid girl.

“Potent.” She supplies, her lips twitching. She can almost feel her eyes glitter.

She is being inappropriate. Here, in the middle of nowhere, unaccompanied, speaking to a strange man of the stink of fish, her hair wafting in the wind— Anyone would gaze upon the two and call her a harlot.

Though She has not had such fun in an age. She, as always, is loose with her definition of a respectable lady.

Suddenly, something shifts. She feels it is important, but cannot recognize how or why.

“Should you return?” He asks, his cadence almost resolute, firm. There is a furrow in his brow, his posture straight and narrow.

“What?” she blurts, surprised by the change.

“Should you return? To Hamburg?” He clarifies, dipping his head to stare at his feet. He looks up once more, a flicker of something in his eyes. A strained quality. “Perhaps a carriage awaits you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. There hadn’t been a second she’d allowed herself to feign consideration. She has half a mind to turn around, grab her drawings from the dirt, shove the charcoal stick in his hands, and force him to write his address. Instead, with a show of impressive restraint, she is almost demure.

“I am a guest at the nearby estate.” Ellen supplies, watching as his lips part in surprise. “The H–”

“The Harding residence.” He finishes, breathily, before muttering an apology for his interruption. She pays it no mind, nodding along. Her fingers pinch hard at her skirt in an attempt to reel in her beating heart.

“Yes, how do you…?” A thought forms. Surely not. The Hardings are of great notoriety, anyone could assume such. It is also the nearest property.

He huffs, incredulous. He looks to the side, hands on his waist, muttering something about horrid friends and their unfair luck– and maybe it is the approaching sunset, or a trick of the light, but he is most…radiant.

Something in the dark recess of her mind tells her that something significant has occurred.

He gives her a grin that does not mean to be dashing, but she cannot help but describe it as such. “It seems we have a similar acquaintance, my lady.” She remains poised at the revelation, even if within, she is decidedly not so. “Ah, how interesting.” she replies, nerves swimming.

Would he be staying there, too?

Ellen’s fingers twitch.

“I would have your name.” She cannot help how it sounds like a demand. It is his fault, for catching the blight that is her attention.

He presses a palm to his chest, beginning to bow. He can barely start his introduction before she holds out her gloveless, charcoal-stained hand.

He blinks, gaze flickering to it. She misses how his pupils bloom at the sight of her downturned palm, and the strained clench of his fingers against his shirt. Ellen watches him intently. A good gentleman would be most put out with her behavior and would be expected to decline in the preservation of both their propriety.

His hand darts out, taking hers. They are calloused, large, and engulf her own so fully. His flesh is warmer than the best of summer days. Ellen is buzzing.

When his lips press against her knuckles, her skin burns. It is achingly respectful and finished all too fast. He looks at her through his lashes, shy.

“It is Thomas, my lady. Thomas Hutter.”

Ellen tastes his name on her tongue and feels like she has always known its sweetness. ——————————————————————————————————

“-omas!”

He awakens.

He had dreamt— Of what is lost to the void of sleep. It has left a warmth in his chest and his heart full. The room is engulfed in dying candlelight. Scrambling— he finds purchase on the coffin’s lid and lifts it high.

He is arrested with a thousand emotions. He sees her, covered in sludge and eyes slit and wet. His beautiful, darling girl. She has conquered death once more.

“Hello.” She croaks, calming at the sight of him.

He smiles, eyes watering, and is allowed his catharsis at last.

He almost dives after her, scooping her up. He is crying, most ugly, he assumes. She lets him. Her arms wind around his neck, already scratching the base of his skull. Comfort- and a silent apology, for her lapse and the distress it has caused him.

She had lost herself. She remembers the mirror, and then waking in darkness once more. She did not take it very well. She scratched and clawed the inside of her prison before she had half a mind to call out for her Thomas.

As always, he had returned to her.

“Ellen.“ he mumbles, rubbing his face into her clavicle. “Do not leave me again.” She plants a kiss on his temple, running a hand through his hair. “Please.” He chokes out, tightening his grip.

“Never.” She promises, voice hard and true.

Even if she may be the foulest of women, her love is something she will offer without end. She feeds it to him, through her skin, through her touch, calming his cries into the occasional sniffle. There is so much to say, so much to think.

After a time, when Thomas has grown quiet and jellied in her arms and she has shaken off the last of her stupor, they extract her from her pile of graveyard mud.

Now, they sit side-by-side, arms interlinked. A thumb strokes her cheek. She traces the veins in his arm.

“So It is true, then.” Ellen speaks into his shoulder “For once, my mind does not deceive me.” Thomas can only nod, content with the fact that she has cheated death. There are many things he must do, now. He will board the windows. He must purchase a new coffin, something more akin to a bed and not a rat trap with compost in it. He will need to feed her-

Oh Yes. That.

“I know not what to feel.” She continues after his moment of silence. “Or do.”

Thomas can only huff out a humorless laugh. Ellen enjoys the rumble she hears in his chest. “I would be most concerned if you did know, my sweet.” He assumes, for all the books that might exist in this world, there is not a single one that could tell him how to navigate the storm roiling on the horizon. He turns to her, revealing her pretty face.

She hums in agreement, meeting his eyes. He feels emboldened to admit to one thing, at least.

“There is a war within me.” He begins, his hand cupping her cheek. She leans into it, eyes closing. Thomas aches. “But joy, joy remains victorious.”

A beat.

“I love you.” Ellen whispers, most ardently, and the singular wall candle reaches the end of its wick.

——————————————————————————————————

AUTHOR’S NOTES

Me: This is very traumatic and sad. Writes the sappiest, Pride and Prejudice ahhh dream sequence. Okay, we’re good.

Note Time!

Thomas is 6’3 :-)

During their Meet-Cute, Thomas was genuinely tweaking over the fact that this really beautiful, mysterious, pale noblewoman was giving him the time of day. He most definitely wondered if she was even real for a moment. Instantly down bad, very pathetic. Love it.

Thomas is coping with his rapidly lengthening list of problems by making sure his wife doesn’t die AGAIN.

Gingerbug is the sweetest girl, and is alive, safe, in a stable somewhere. Perhaps she will make an appearance again because I really enjoyed writing them being sweet and cute and happy! It makes the present feel so much worse :D !!

Just so you know, her face when she was spying on Thomas was terrifying. Yes, he was very taken with her for that.

She’s genuinely just so done. Ellen, you would have loved modern mental health services. All she has is a life-sustaining trauma bond with her husband to keep her afloat.

Ellen being completely disinterested in any other human man is so hilarious to me. Thomas, or ancient demonic force. There is no in-between. She’s very real.

She can’t see herself in a mirror anymore not because she has no soul, as folklore suggests, but because she is in a sense, dead, and mirrors reflect truth. I’m taking creative liberties with that one because Ellen has a soul. Idc. It's a very pretty one too.

Respectable women wore bonnets when outside, especially around men who were not their husbands. Thomas seeing her hair undone is considered improper. As well as him touching her when she has no gloves on.

We will get into more of the technicalities/drawbacks/benefits that come with Ellen’s new form in the coming chapters! I’m so excited to explore the… blood-drinking part a little too much.

The love I’m getting for this series is incredible. I do adore you guys! Comments literally make my whole day. Even the extremely freaky ones I get in my Tumblr Inbox (You know who you are.) I admire the Gooner dedication.

I really am trying to be careful with how I’m managing the overall emotional tone! Let me know if the pacing feels good, I beg of you. That also goes for the characterization, flow, etc. I’m always looking to improve!

P.S In regards to the Tiktok ban. I scrolled until the very end. All I have to say is Eat the Rich, join your local protests when you can, and if any of you live near Mark Zuckerberg, do everyone a favor and drop a bomb on his house. Thank you!

#nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #ellen hutter #thomas hutter #nosferatu fanfic #ellen x thomas #ellen x thomas fic #In Unholy Matrimony #nosferatu canon divergence #nosferatwo #vampyr!Ellen Hutter

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