#*frenzy sound effect*

[yharnam-is-a-fuck]

[death-rebirth-senshi]

WINTER LANTERNS CHEAT

[seraphdreams]

GOT MILK? | TOJI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. what happens when you invite an unexpected guest into your home? lucky for you, this one cares about your health!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader / milkman!toji, smut, cliche porn trope, size kink, coercion, food play, a bit prey/predator dynamics, 1950s-esque setting, toji’s huge, unprotected “love-making”, mdni <3.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m so so sorry i’ve been away from writing :( but trust me, we’re so back !! this is actually my first full length toji fic n i’m so excited 4 you all to read it . . i wanted to keep it light and cliche for all of our pleasure. this took me about two months to write on n off, but !! if you like this n enjoy it, please comment / reblog ! i’ll make you all a glass of seraph’s special milk, thank u ♡ a big shoutout 2 @gh4ul for beta reading ! i love u so muchie!!

fluorescent shimmers of the setting sun pierced through your living room window, beyond pastel curtains, and onto the curvature of your face as if the sun itself used you like its own canvas while you lounged upon the couch. soft murmurs of whichever television show you had fallen asleep watching hummed within the four thin walls of your flat, creating the perfect ambiance for a peaceful late afternoon nap.

it wasn’t as though you had done much during the day, aside from indulging in your boredom with the mundane baking of cookies, taking two batches to get right, alongside tidying your room.

although currently, you slept soundly in a way that came off as daunting to others; torso clad in a thin tank top paired with little pink shorts that could’ve been mistaken for underwear by any onlooker, with your hand rested just below your abdomen, chest rising and falling in the most harmonious synchronicity.

vulnerable, like prey unknowing of its predator.

fortunately, the neighborhood you resided in was safe. some sweet suburban city where everyone knew each other more than they knew themselves, and the thought of anything being remotely out of place sent residents into a frenzy. it was innocuous to assume that not much out of the ordinary took place. or that was the case, until —

knock, knock.

“delivery for y/n?”

stirring in your sleep, you prayed that the owner of the baritone voice that had woken you up was just some figment of your imagination, some effect of unintended lucid dreaming perhaps. yet, upon blinking open unfocused, bleary eyes, and the loud couplet of knocks on the door following soon after, you were pulled out of dreamland and into the vexing reality.

three more firm knocks paired with a gruff tone calling out flatly, “delivery,” was enough to have your body sashaying involuntarily to your front door.

whoever was outside was insinstently persistent. if they had thought to put even an ounce more strength into those compact knocks, your door would have been long gone by now.

“coming!” the dulcet tone of your voice was riddled with exhaustion and you were unsure if the sound had resonated with the stranger on the other end, your internal query being answered once the relentless abuse of your front door had ceased.

you had ignored the fabric of your meager top, not quite noticing the way the strap so slightly dropped from your shoulder, leaving such a beautiful expanse of skin exposed to, and for, anyone. swiftly, you had opened the door for your unexpected visitor.

there, stood some dark haired man, taller and bigger than any other man you’ve known in the neighborhood. he must have had to be over 6’0, with a stature so broad, chiseling muscles barely hidden underneath the thin fabric of his uniform. his white hat tilted upward, and as your eyes descended, you caught his matching suit worn just a bit too taut. it was as if the first two buttons of his shirt were hanging on for dear life to cover what massive mounds his chest was. not to mention, how his thighs were close to breaking free from their confines.

to the right of the struggling buttons, sat a little pin that read “toji.”

he didn’t put any effort into a friendly introduction, the only hint of expression you could trace was the furrowing of his brows at his forehead as he gave you an unreadable stare.

“was told to drop this off here.” toji spoke. he held out a small wired basket with two glass jars of white liquid, seeming to be milk. maybe it had been your fuzzy, half-awake mind, and what little thoughts were up there, but you couldn’t recall a time where you had placed an order for some strange fluid.

was it a thing the neighborhood would do every once in a while?

as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and gave the handsome stranger a soft pout, you spoke airily. “what’s in the jar, sir?”

his demeanor shifted into pure displeasure, not fancying the query your hollow brain came up with. it remained undoubtedly clear that he wasn’t the most amiable of folks.

“it’s milk, darling.”

“i didn’t order any milk, sorry.” that same pout remained on your lips as you shook your head for the milkman to end a seemingly quick conversation, but just as you were about to close the door back, the pressure of his strong hand against the wood made your attempt futile.

to your surprise, a miniscule smirk was evident on his scarred features. “no?” his narrowed eyes drank you in from the bottom up as if you were lemonade on a scorching summer’s day. those same eyes skillfully darting from the spill of your breasts in your little top, up to your pretty pursed lips and doe-like orbs.

anyone could tell from a mile away what type of girl you were — the type that toji devilishly enjoys.

it wasn’t often he was presented with a doll such as yourself. sure, he could pick the mind of others increasingly well, could tell just when someone was planning to set him up (like some sort of off-duty criminal) but with you, it was as though not a thought could be lodged behind vacant eyes. everything about you was pure, untainted.

he stepped closer toward you, his foot conveniently placed between the barrier between your home and the outside. “try it for yourself. it’s fresh, and organic.” as he spoke, the glint in his deep gray eyes had overturned into a sly darkness. and when you shook your head at his advance, he only scoffed, peering in closer until he fully stepped foot into your abode.

“oh, c’mon,” vexation laced his tone. “don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

his hauntingly large frame eclipsed yours, the sun casting a backlit shadow behind his silhouette, like something out of a 50’s horror film. at that moment, you were in no position to deny his simple request.

it was just milk, perhaps he wanted an honest review.

your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly as you hoped that courage would fill the void in the pit of your stomach. “how much for a glass?” softly, your question floated in tense air. a smirk upticks on his face as he reaches into the basket, holding up the larger jar of the two settled in the basket.

“for you, it’s free of charge.”

maybe you should’ve questioned the insubstantial value, for nothing in this economy was truly ever free.

you take the bottle from him, popping open the lid and taking a sip. the unnerving feeling of greedy eyes caused goosebumps to form over your skin. the liquid certainly had a thicker texture to it, possibly an ode to its organic nature; and as you sipped and sipped, you failed to notice the drippage that rolled amply down the side of your mouth to your chest. toji, however, caught sight of it — because, of course he did.

after you had your sample size, you took a manicured thumb to glossy lips, wiping your bottom lip to collect the remnants before taking your tongue to your thumb to lick up the remains.

in that moment, you reminded him of a kitten, some meek animal vastly trusting of the others in its environment.

his smirk grew wider and he closed the door behind him as he stepped closer, now merely a few inches away from your figure. “oh, but miss,” his voice full with anything but a genuine concern for you, he traced his finger along the trail of milk that lingered at your chest. “you missed a spot.”

his sudden touch startled you in such a way that shifted your body to jolt once you felt his cool fingertips. that same motion forced you to completely forget about the open jar in your hand, accidentally spilling an even larger amount of milk all over yourself in the process.

drenched in the liquid, your top became practically see-through with only the sight of your pert nipples showing underneath. it's candy for the eye, toji’s at least.

“you gonna keep that on, princess? you’ll catch a cold.” his voice feigns concernment towards you, as if he pitied the pathetic state he put upon you. in that moment, sheepishness clouds your empty head, and if you could cower away, you would; but instead, you took him up on his suggestion, turning your back to him and doing away with the thin barrier.

“gimme a minute to change.” you shyly said as you looked back at him with a hand barely covering your chest.

how cute you were, so willing to invite a stranger into your home and even strip for him — were you always this welcoming?

before you could scuttle to your room, you felt a firm grip on your arm. toji, now clearly having fun with you, had given you a menacing smirk along with a tsk of his tongue. “you’re still all wet,” he turned you back around to face him in one swift motion. “let me clean you off.” his hand slowly trailed up your arm and to the swell of your breasts where he cupped one in his large, calloused palm. the feeling of his rough fingertips over your bare skin caused you to break out in a shudder. “s-sir, i don’t think..”

he shushed you the moment his thumb rolled over your hard nipple, milk still dripping down your skin. with one hand, he pulled you in tight by your waist, and with the other, he aided himself in wrapping his lips around your nipple. you could only describe his touch as hungry, rough as if the opportunity to take advantage of your vulnerability would slip away into thin air. he locked steel grey eyes with you as he did so. once he got his fill of toying with your sensitive mounds, he switched his sucking motions into little bites.

his deep groans and your soft whines filled the space instantaneously. he’d rotate from one breast to the other until he felt you growing weak in his hold, the squeeze of your thighs telling him everything he needed to know about your desire. and when he felt satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he unlatched.

it felt as if all air had rushed out of your system from the raspy whines you had let out during his ministrations. you took a moment to catch your breath and regain composure as he stood up tall to his original position.

oddly enough, comfortability grew within you, possibly the adrenaline of a handsome stranger feeding your mind with illicit thoughts. “am i all clean now?” your voice comes out shaky, feeble with lust, and as your eyes scanned his formidable appearance, down to the bulge that left his sheer size to anything but the imagination, you grew greedier.

“squeaky fucking clean.” his response comes off as a growl. “how about some real milk as a reward, sweetheart?”

you tilted your head, as a confused puppy would, looking up at him with spacey eyes. “real milk? i thought i was just drinking it?” he smiled at your perplexity, finding you too cute to let go. “that milk,” he pointed at the bottle you set on the counter beside you. “isn’t as organic as it claims. you need the real thing in ya.”

toji fumbles with his belt buckle, unfastening it until he could comfortably whip his cock out. you had never seen something so large, so girthy that it instilled a blend of fear and excitement within you. “on your knees, pretty thing.” he demanded. “gotta make sure my girl grows big and strong.”

you complied, obviously. when someone as sturdy as him tells you to do something, it’s only natural that you do it.

with your weight now rested on your knees, your job was easy. you wrapped a feeble hand around the base of his cock, mouth agape in bewilderment that he could barely fit in the cusp of your hand. toji let out a hiss under his breath once your hand began to diligently slide up and down his shaft. slick dribbled into the rapture of your enclosed fist from just how turned on he was. as you continued to teasingly pump him, your tongue darted to place gentle kitten licks paired with tender kisses to his angry tip. “you’re real confident now, aren’t ya?” he goads, though not necessarily in a mirthful manner.

a soft pout forms at your lips upon hearing his words, urging you to increase your pace by a minuscule amount. once you had gotten familiar with the monster in your palm, you wrapped your lips around the head, slowly inching yourself down his shaft until your nose met the unruly hairs of his pelvis. he was heavy in your jaw, a telltale sign that you’d end up with a strong ache that’d take days to soothe; and the throb of his length only led to the gush in your panties.

as you began to bob your head, toji threw his head back, large hands gripping at your jaw to keep you nice and puckered for him. the sensation of his plush tip bullying the back of your throat causes you to moan, a sound, and a feeling, that toji doesn't miss. you pick up your rhythm, but shortly after, toji starts up his; slamming his cock into your unexpecting mouth with no remorse.

rough ministrations urged you to gag until you came to ignore the feeling and focus on his pleasure, innocent and teary eyes showing through a wall of thick lashes up at him. what a cocky bastard.

“c’mon, you can take more, can’t ya?” he goads, his vocables resonating in a choppy cadence underneath the guise of his groans. “dontcha want milk?”

the mix of saliva and his precum trailed from your mouth as his heavy balls slammed against your chin. you took notice of how his vigorous pace faltered, signally an orgasm just seconds away.

one thrust. two thrust. three.

he’d managed to hold your face to his pelvis as he fucked through his orgasm, a deep groan bellowing through the air while he painted your throat in his seed.

what a liar. he didn’t taste anything like milk.

slowly, he pulls away and spurts the last few drops of cum onto your swollen lips, where he took much needed amusement in your starry eyed gaze.

your heavy pants were like music to his ears, something he wished he could etch into his memory for years to come.

“it’s all messy.” you mewled, licking at the seed that dripped to your lips. his hands were glacial as you felt them on your face while he leaned down to be eye level with you. “oh, i know. lemme take care of that.” he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, drinking in his own orgasm before taking you into a heated kiss.

it was a brief moment, so brief you were too lightheaded to even realize how he manhandled you into the perfect position — bent over to touch your toes.

he pulled away, roughly tugging at your little shorts until they pooled at your ankles. you felt him slide his cock over your panties just before pushing them to the side to line it up with your slit.

all toji wanted to do in that moment was slide right in, but he knew he couldn’t. you just weren’t wet enough to handle all of him. and besides, he definitely didn’t want to deal with a whining princess suggesting that it “doesn’t fit.”

instead, he slid his sensitive cock between your folds. “gotta get you nice ‘nd ready,” he spoke while reveling in the way that his tip catched at your poor, neglected clit. “feel flattered, i don’t do this for everybody.”

each slide jolted your body as the slightest tinge of pleasure coursed within you. it wasn’t enough to get you feeling close, no, but it was ample in gushing more slick from your hole.

“t-toji, sir, please..” you had let out a soft, vexed sigh at the lack of feeling, wiggling your hips to create friction in any type of way.

it reigned pointless, as most things did with toji. he was too busy focused on the sheen covering his cock from just toying with your angelcunt that whatever nonsense you were spouting was irrelevant to him. he continued his motions until the tightening of your core and fluttering of your pussy told him everything he needed to know.

satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he halted. just before you could fucking cum. you let out a frustrated whine that didn’t mean much to him, agitated by the loss of sensation.

in mere moments, he was pushing himself past your walls, stretching you out while your little cunt struggled to accommodate his size. “w-what if it doesn’t fit..?” you managed to babble out in your pathetic state.

oh, if your nosy neighbors knew that sweet little princess down the street was getting her cunt stretched out by the milkman, they would have a conniption.

toji smirked at your concern, ultimately brushing you off while continuing to urge himself even deeper. “let’s just make it fit then.”

the feeling of being stuffed full was unlike anything you’d experienced in the past. your past partners weren’t much to moan at, but toji? he had you grasping at any surface to give you leverage. as soon as he bottomed out, you could feel the tip rubbing so deliciously against the hollow of your cervix, the tinge of pain going unnoticed from how riddled with desire you were for him. with confirmation that he was fully inside, toji began to set a rough pace, strokes deep and firm enough to have you jolting forward with every thrust.

you scrambled to hold onto anything for dear life, afraid that your knees would grow weak and give out underneath your own weight. though, he kept his hands taut at your hips, only speeding up his potent thrusts to taunt you even more for your lack of stability.

fucked dumb within the first few seconds, drool dribbled past your lip, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you tried to take everything you were given.

with the intense way your walls were hugging around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out something of a deep, guttural groan. you had reached behind you to press a feeble hand to his abdomen, hoping it would ease his ministrations, yet your adorable action only caused the opposite.

he took your wrists in his one hand, pulling you up to hit deeper within your walls. “fuck! ‘s too d-deep!” you cried out, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening within your being, and to your dismay, he only held you closer against his chest, other hand gripping at your jaw while his cock milked your gspot for all it’s worth.

“too deep? this too deep for ya?” toji taunts. “i thought you knew how to take dick, you sure looked like it.”

his grip at your face only tighten an ounce more as he waited for whatever nonsense you could muster out.

“i-i can..! i c’n take it!”

only seconds later did your high come crashing down, sending your body into a flutter of shocks. a sensation so perfervid, it had your mind hazy while you creamed all over his cock.

following suit, in a bout of thrusts, toji was painting your insides with his warm wet seed, only pulling out once he felt you go limp in his hold.

“don’t tap out on me now, you haven’t even paid for the milk.”

[ruleofheart]

desperately needing best friend! ellie who is just so much better at handling horror than you are.

it starts with ellie slyly handing you a ticket to an upcoming horror fest; fright frenzy. you’re not one for actual horror attractions– it almost takes too much to get you to sit through an entire movie. so, as you the eye the ticket with worry, ellie interjects.

“we’re going,” she declares, leaving no room for argument. “dina and jesse, too. next friday.”

“next friday?! it’s only september!”

it’s how you end up in line for a haunted house, your eyes lost in a daze as you try to put on a calm front.

see, ellie is someone who can appreciate a good scare. she’s grown to think that most jumpscares are pretty cheap, save for the creative ones that actually get her to say, “that was sick.”

she’s someone who doesn’t even flinch at elaborate costumes, usually complimenting the actors and asking for a selfie with the zombie with amazing sfx makeup.

she’s someone, and probably the only one, who sees through your little front. with dina and jesse too caught up in their own conversation (behaving like those abysmal couples in line), she nudges your shoulder, pulling you out of your internal hype session.

“hey. you can hold my hand, if you want.” it’s soft, but with a hint of a knowing smile.

and once you get inside; oh, you take her offer and run with it. you end up pressed into her side, her arm wrapped around you. your eyes tucked away in the crevice of her shoulder as she dips down to talk you through it (sheesh!). her voice is low, and it would probably drive you crazy if it weren’t for the guttural screams and sound effects erupting at every corner.

since ellie is handling herself just fine, she whispers to you as she sees the jumpscares ahead of time.

“clown coming up. god, he looks so corny.”

“hey, hey; you’re doing so good, it’s almost over.”

and when the lights flash a little too much, her hands come up to cover your eyes, her sweet words filtering into your ear. ugh, you could almost die.

and it’s the way that she bites back a smile when she drives you home. the way you try to subtly tell her, i don’t wanna sleep alone tonight. the way she nonchalantly offers for you to stay over at hers, promising to keep a comedy movie on until you fall asleep.

you end up sleeping in ellie’s bed, your whole body trying to wrap around and snuggle into her arm as she looks down at you, her heart skipping curiously.

[neos127]

hot things jake does

pairing. boyfriend!jake x fem!reader (use of pet name ‘pretty girl’) genre. hcs, fluff, established relationship notes. kinda messy bc i’m just dumping my thoughts

i. biting his lip ALL THE DAMN TIME

more specifically when he’s checking you out. it sends your mind into a frenzy and you always have to tell him ‘stop looking at me like that!’ he doesn’t care, finding it cute how flustered you get from a simple action. ‘like what?’ he teases, biting his lip again. you can’t help but groan, feeling your face heat up again.

ii. playing with the rings on his fingers

jake’s hands are very attractive so watching him mindlessly twist his rings around his long fingers makes you (figuratively) drool. whenever you can, you’re holding onto his hands or kissing them. he gets all giggly when you do that, finding it cute how you have such a fascination with his hands.

iii. raking his hand through his hair

you aren’t exactly sure why you find this so attractive, but it’s jake and anything he does is enticing. he’s just so damn pretty and you can’t help but stare at him whenever he does this. you often like to run your own hands through his hair, the sound of him sighing in satisfaction makes your stomach flip.

iv. keeping a hand on your back in crowded places

jake is always glued to your side and he becomes very protective when the two of you are in a crowded space. sometimes he holds onto your hand, or grabs onto your clothing. usually he keeps a hand on your lower back, basically guiding you through the crowd. the action is very simple, but it makes you smile. even when you’ve both made it out of the crowd, jake doesn’t move his hand, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb.

v. eye contact

once jake gets out of the shy boyfriend phase, he loves to tease you. before, prolonged eye contact with you was nerve wrecking. but now, he looks to see the reaction that you have under his unwavering gaze. your face starts to heat up and you can never look at him for more than two seconds. jake will move his face closer to yours, forcing eye contact with you with a small smirk on his face. ‘why are you looking away from me, pretty girl?’

vi. wears glasses

every time jake puts on those clear glasses, an angel is born. you can’t help but squeal when you see pictures of him wearing the glasses so seeing him in person— you need a minute to take a breather. he has to know he’s hot in them, he just has to. the way jake smirks at you when he catches you staring too long, he definitely picks up on the kind of effect he has on you. ‘watchu lookin at, pretty?’ he asks, looking at you with a slight tilt to his head. you don’t say anything, reaching over kiss him. it ended up getting so intense that jake moved to take off the glasses, but you slapped his hand away. ‘keep them on, please.’

[solbaby7]

Hi! Could you write one where the reader somehow ingests a magic aphrodisiac while out on a mission. And she is in a ton of discomfort but her mate (any male maybe rhys) isn’t able to get there quickly so he gives cassian or azriel permission to give her some relief until he can arrive ?? :) a little angsty but also sexy

Blurred Lines

pairing: rhysand x reader x az

warnings: swearing, boyfriend lets his best friend fuck his girlfriend, mentions of aphrodisiacs, probs typos

[ part 2 ] [ part 3 ]

—

You’d felt uneasy, stomach churning like curdled milk after inhaling so much of the suspicious purple powder that had been blown in your face. “It burns,” Your body stumbles into Azriel’s, fingers pinching at your nose as you tried to ease the tingle that was beginning to prickle behind your eyes and nostrils.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, piercing eyes scanning the crowd for the figure cloaked in a red so deep it was nearly black but not even his shadows find a trace of them. “We need to get out of here. Do you have it?”

The thrum of the pages hum in the satchel strapped tightly beneath your arm. It had taken weeks to even locate a trace of them, just barely realizing anything was missing from the Book of Breathings until Nesta discovered the tattered remnants of torn pages tucked in the book spine. “I have it.” It comes out slightly slurred, your vision distorting as the powder began to take effect. The uncomfortable heat begins in your sinuses, spreading like venom in your bloodstream until every inch of your body felt like it was pressed up against the crackling flames of a fire. “Whatever that was—it’s really potent.”

Azriel grips you close, shadows cloaking your whole body until he’s winnowed you a safe enough distance away to properly evaluate you. “Gods, your eyes.” You squirm under the warmth of his hands. A simple touch sending every nerve into a frenzy and you’re abnormally aware of the steady throb between your thighs.

Your heartrate spikes, fingers slightly unsteady when snatching for the dagger strapped to your thigh and once you see your reflection it falls from your grasp. Embedded in the natural color of your iris was a smattering of shiny purple dots. “What the hell was that stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel’s worry only grows, eyes glazing over as he no doubt was relaying everything that had happened to Rhys—to your mate. The very thought of him has arousal pooling between your thighs but the pleasant tingle of pleasure that usually followed is nowhere to be found. Every muscle seized with stress, fingers digging into your hair to alleviate the pulsing pressure all over. “Just hang on,” He pleads, holding you close despite your discomfort but there’s no other choice but to winnow as close as the wards around the safe house would allow. “Rhys is on his way.”

The words barely register, sweat beading at your hairline and even with the temperatures slightly lower than usual, the heat refused to subside. It radiates through your clothes, micro particles of sparkling purple transferring from your leathers to Az’s the longer he had to support your weight.

You scramble away from him the moment the door opens, fingers frantically pulling at the buttons keeping the tactical gear in place until it’s left in a heap on the floor. Gods, the floor. So cool against bare skin and the momentary relief is too good to even notice the fact that you were so exposed, the thin straps of the flimsy undershirt slipping down your shoulder; the hem hiking up the length of your stomach.

Vaguely aware of the sounds around you, the floor barely rumbles as Azriel shifted through the space. It was a little cramped but big enough for a kitchen and a bedroom with a small bathroom tucked within.

Too soon does the cool fade away, pained whines follow and every brush of your fingers against bare skin is worse than most other tortures you’d endured. It’s accidental, the scrape of your nail against your nipple through thin material and the moan that rips free is more like a choked cry. Every move after that feels like another is in control of your body, forcing your limbs to move, willing your fingers to trail beneath the waistband of your pants and past the soft cotton of your underwear.

“I ran you a bath—“ The rest is abruptly cut off, every single muscle in Azriel’s body going stiff at the sight of you sprawled out on the kitchen floor with so much skin on display. Golden eyes catch on the heaving fullness of your breasts spilling from the confines of your top, the frenzied hand tucked in your leathers and Azriel physically stumbles back when the intensity of your scent fully hits him. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Words slur together, frustrated tears falling down the curve of your cheeks and you’re too caught up in the temporary solace to be embarrassed about the crude behavior; the obscene squelching between your thighs. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it—hurts so bad.”

Azriel doesn’t reply, stunned in place and distantly he recognizes a familiar pressure in his brain. A feline voice laced with worry snapping him from his stupor. “Please tell me you’re close.”

“I need more time, Az.”

“She doesn’t have it,” The sight is pushed at Rhysand at warp speed, the sounds of his mate filling the conclaves of his mind.

There’s a pause, one that lasts a beat too long and Azriel begins to catch on to the plan his High Lord was brewing. “Then, help her.”

“Rhysand.”

“I trust you,” Rhys says a little softer, even if the words are laced with that territorial gruff. “Help her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He can’t move, even if his shadows slink forward at the permission given. They’re cautious before touching you, just barely ghosting over the curve of your shoulder and the whimper that it pulls makes Azriel’s stomach clench. You lean into the cool touch that comes with the wisps of darkness, back arching at the feeling. “Where’s Rhys?”

“He’ll be here, he just needs a little more time.”

More tears fall, even if you do nod in understanding but your thoughts muddy together, unable to differentiate one sentence from the next as you forgo pants altogether. “I can’t wait anymore, Az. Please.” You’re not sure what you’re asking for exactly but you’re positively certain that your fingers aren’t enough. “Please touch me.”

He says your name so softly, crooning soothing words and tucking your hair away from your forehead. “Are you sure?”

You don’t answer with words, just eyes half-lidded and grip surprisingly gentle when grabbing for his wrist, guiding his hand to the sodden mess between your thighs. Azriel can’t fight his reaction to the slick arousal coating his fingers through your lacy underthings, head dipping back and eyes daring to close—savoring the feel of you. “I need you to make me feel better,” You don’t even sound like yourself, tone whiny and desperate as you hike your shirt over your head. “Please, can you do that for me? Please, please, please.”

Your hips buck up into the pressure of his fingers against you, squirming uncontrollably as he slowly pulls the fabric to the side and the first swipe of skin on skin is almost enough to bring you over the edge. “Alright,” Your name on his lips sends your nerves into a frenzy, hips wiggling just enough for one finger to sink into your cunt and the relief is instant. “I’ll make it better, just breathe for me, okay?”

It’s a simple request and yet still you have difficulty obeying as you chase the icy chill that quenches the burning inferno. Another finger follows the first and Azriel can’t tear his eyes away from the way your spine curves with each delicious drag of them against your walls. “Yes,” It comes out in a near hiss, teeth biting at the fat of your bottom lip as you grope at your chest. “Feels so fucking good.”

Maybe Azriel indulged just a little, taking extra time exploring the spots at had your eyes going lazy and when moans shift into breathy whines—Azriel submits completely. The taste of you on his tongue was unlike anything than he could’ve imagined, warm and sweet against his tongue like cookies dipped in warm milk. A string of swears tumble from your lips so fast he briefly wonders if it’s another language. He hums all the same, low vibrations sending goosebumps along your flesh and shadows take the place of your hands. Kneading at supple breasts and tugging on pert nipples until the onslaught of pleasure has you tensing beneath him. “That’s it,” He mutters against your sex, acutely aware of the throbbing erection straining against the binds of his leathers. “Feel better?”

Your body answers for you, tugging him close enough to feel the hardness of his length against your pussy. “Need more, Az.” One long drag against the stiff material and he’s groaning into your neck, holding up his weight on two strong arms and you can’t help but think about them holding you up against a wall, fucking up into you until your lungs gave out.

Azriel stares down at you, eyes dark and lips parted as if he could see exactly what filthy things were flashing behind your eyelids. “Relax, pretty girl.” Shadows tug at the binds holding his pants in place, dragging them down, down, down. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, arousal pooling between your legs with a slutty squelch. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.2

Venus ° Lee Know

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY      wc: 2k give or take

Warnings: oral f receiving, fingering, inexperienced reader, experienced minho, aftercare??

The rest of the day with Chan was spent kissing and touching. The intrusion of his tongue in your mouth was thrilling, the drag of it down the skin of your neck was electrifying. His hands on you were gentle and soft but firm in their way, he made you feel safe and hot, a delicious mixture that heightened even more your attraction towards him.  Chan woke up something in you that you didn’t know you possessed, and by the state of him when you had to go home, dick hard, cheeks red and tousled hair, you seemed to have had an effect on him too.

Slick and arousal had soiled your underwear when you got home and you couldn’t help but get under the covers and slip a hand inside your pants, hoping your roommate didn’t hear you. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was his fingers tracing your slit and gently playing around with your pussy, it was his fingers circling your clit with precise movements. The orgasm that came out of your little self care moment was the strongest one you had ever experienced. Your pussy gushed and pulsed against your fingers. The moment you were done you passed out cold, tired from from the previous sleepless night.

When you awoke the sky outside was black and the city had quieted down significantly. 2 AM read your trusty clock. It was way too early to wake up so you let your eyes close and sleep pulled you into the void. Just as you were about to enter the land of dreams, a ping from your phone abruptly shook you awake.

Chris-py boy <3:

This is the list of the things you should know and which of the guys are gonna teach you. Think it over and let me know. Goodnight baby <3 (attached document)

You:

I don’t know Channie, the last one is a little much, but the rest is fine

Chris-py boy <3:

You don’t have to do the last one if you don’t want to, pretty. Think about it and let me know. What about Minho? Are you okay with that?

You:

I’m a little nervous because I don’t know Minho that much but I trust you, I know there’s a reason why you chose him. When are we going to meet?

A lump formed in your throat and butterflies filled your stomach (and your vagina).

Chris-py boy <3

He's very busy during the week between work and dance practice and classes but he’s available tomorrow afternoon if it’s not too early.

You:

No, tomorrow is fine

Chris-py boy <3:

Brave girl <3. Minho will text you tomorrow morning then, sleep well, pretty girl and let me know how he treated you after ;) 

You put the phone down with an ever growing feeling of pride in your chest.

‘You’re such a boss Y/N’

Waking up the next morning was traumatizing; your body was feeling all of the effects of a sleepless night, a special solo cardio session and your nervousness.Grogginess wouldn’t quite cut it, your whole body felt heavy with sleep and your mind was so foggy it was a miracle you remembered your name. The only thing that brought you out of your trance was your phone buzzing several times.

Unknown number: 3 messages

Chris-py boy <3 : two missed calls

‘Fuck what time is it? Did I sleep too much?’

Unknown number: Hi, it's Minho, are you okay with meeting at 4?

Unknown number: Wear something you feel comfortable in :)

Unknown member: Did you change your mind?

2 PM. The time on your clock almost sent you in a frenzy, you were finally getting laid for the first time and you overslept. Embarrassing, you thought to yourself.

You:

I didn’t forget, I’m sorry I was sleeping. 4 sounds perfect :)

Minho:

Don’t worry, I’ll be at your dorm around 4 then. Don’t worry too much, I’ll treat you well and you can always stop me at any time.

Minho’s words made you feel warm inside. He had always treated you nicely; always a polite gentleman, always opened doors around the guys’ dorm for you and every time you slept over and you walked around the kitchen with shorts, he would never let his eyes linger on your bare legs unlike Han. 

Just this once time was on your side. You had two hours to get presentable, take a shower and scrub furiously any sensitive areas, get dressed, do your skin care and hyperventilate in front of the mirror. The anxiety and nervousness that flowed inside your body were able to let you finish well in advance. Your feet moved on their own, you couldn’t stay still. If your bed could have talked, it would’ve cursed at you for constantly fixing the sheets and the pillows. It was a seemingly never ending cycle: walk around the bed, look at the sheets, fix the sheets, start walking again, only to do everything from the start. Right when you thought the floor would open up to swallow you whole, your phone pinged. You threw yourself on the bed to see the message.

Minho:

I’m outside, whenever you’re ready, take your time.

Butterflies swarmed your stomach, Minho was cute and nice and you were about to have sex with him. You felt beyond flattered. Without thinking too much, you got out of your room and sped to your door. Your hand wrapped around the door knob with a bruising grip and swung the offending piece of wood open. On the other side stood Minho in all of his beauty, and what a great beauty.

“Hi,” he spoke first and offered you a small sweet smile. You had never seen him smile like that and it made you warm inside once again, it also made your pussy slick in your panties. The fact that this gorgeous man wanted you even if you were completely inexperienced, the fact that you had that kind of power on him, it turned you on, more than a little.

“Come in.” Minho stepped inside your dorm room and closed the door behind him. His hand found yours naturally. 

“Can I see your room?” God he was so respectful and kind, you wanted him to absolutely destroy you. Instead of voicing your thoughts, you slowly walked him to your room, his fingers wrapped around yours still. Your tiny room seemed to shine the moment he stepped foot in it; each one of his movements seemed so natural and fluid that you had almost thought that he had already been in your room, already sat on your bed.

“Are you alright?” his voice was soft and sincere, you had never heard him speak like that to anyone. You just nodded and sat down on the bed next to him.

“Since this is your first lesson, I thought I could show you what pleasure is. Is that okay with you?” his words were so casual that you almost thought he wasn’t talking about sex. You nodded again.

“Use your words, pretty.”

“Yes, it's okay.” Minho hummed, his hand reached up to gently stroke your chin.

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes please,” it was barely above a whisper but less than a moan, nevertheless Minho heard you and his lips were on yours in a heartbeat. His kiss was different from Chan’s, he was more passionate, more intense, you could feel his mischievous side in it. His lips felt heavenly on yours, they were soft and skilled just like his hands.They move confidently on the curves of your body, from your neck to your back to your hips which he squeezed affectionately.

“Can I touch you, pretty?” you almost didn’t hear him, so focused on the sensation of his hands on you and his lips which had now moved to brush against your ear and the skin behind it. A shiver shook you from your head to your toes and your pussy throbbed. Never in your life had you been that worked up in so little time.

“Please, Minho, touch me,” your voice sounded strange to your ears, your tone was whiny and slightly petulant but Minho seemed to think otherwise. His pupils were fully blown, a twinkle of lust and mischief in his eyes; the more skin you let him touch the more his dick stirred in his jeans. The trust you had in him, they way you keened and wailed with simple touches, the blush that was creeping up your neck to your face and extended to your pretty tits; all of these elements made Minho crazy with want, he couldn’t think straight anymore and it was clear that you had stopped the moment he had put his lips on yours. 

In a matter of what seemed both seconds and hours you found yourself flat on your back, your dress pulled down to reveal your tits and the skirt pulled up with your panties dangling from one of your ankles.

“Hm, you have a pretty one,” Minho hummed. It was taking everything in him not to bury his face in your pussy and messily eat you out until you were shaking and crying from overstimulation, but this was your first time and he had to contain himself. 

“Minho, please do something,” you wailed once again, every ounce of shame was long gone from your body, replaced with pure lust and need for the man in front of you. Minho didn’t answer, his eyes moved to yours. His piercing gaze hypnotized you and nailed you on the spot, you couldn’t look away. He slowly lowered himself and when he was at eye level with your pretty pussy he gently pressed his lips right onto your clit. Your back bowed and arched off the bed; this feeling was so foreign and intense that it overwhelmed you but in the best ways, you never wanted Minho to stop. Almost like he could hear your thoughts, he peeked his tongue out of his mouth and gave you lick and then another and then another until he was slowly and passionately making out with your most sensitive and private part. Your breath hitched in your throat, obscenely loud moans slipped past your lips and for a second you worried about your roommates hearing the two of you but ultimately decided that you didn’t care.

So immersed in your pleasure, you almost didn’t notice Minho’s fingers circling your entrance until he was gently pushing them in, their drags against your slick walls felt weird but the more he pushed the more the feeling changed into a truly intoxicating one. 

Pleasure pooled and swirled into your gut as Minho worked his magic on you.

“Oh Minho, I’m close, I’m so close,” you hadn’t even realized you had spoken until the words had left your mouth. Minho hummed and sucked your clit into his mouth a little harder while thrusting into your sweet spot with a little more vigor. The coil in your belly suddenly snapped and you thrashed around in Minho’s hold. The orgasm was glorious, you swore you had seen stars. 

Minho continued to lick at your slit until you were whining and whimpering. You were completely exhausted but strangely your body had never felt lighter. 

A warm towel pressed against your pussy and you jolted, you hadn’t even realized that he had moved from between your legs. 

“How are you feeling? Did you enjoy yourself?” he softly asked while he cleaned you up.

“It was great, thank you,” your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

“C’mon, let’s get ice cream.” His hands wrapped around your wrist and he helped you stand.

“Ice cream?” you asked  confused.

“I was the first ever man to ever be between your legs, I can’t abandon you right after.”

The walk to the ice cream parlor was quiet, but not awkward unlike what you expected. Minho’s presence was warm and welcoming, he made you feel safe and you felt like you didn’t need excessive words to fill up the silence, basking in each other’s presence was enough. 

“Minho, can I ask you something?” He nodded. A man of few words, you thought.

“Why did you keep calling me pretty?”

“Because you are pretty,” he mumbled, his ears were starting to get red.

You felt butterflies swarm your stomach.

“We should go out sometimes,” he spoke so softly that you had almost missed it. His ears were now completely red.

“Yeah, we should.”

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Duran Duran - The Chauffeur 1982

Rio is the second studio album by English band Duran Duran, released in 1982. A new wave album with musical elements such as dance and synth-pop, Rio is mostly composed of fast, upbeat numbers, with a couple slower synthesiser-based ballads. The cover artwork, painted by Patrick Nagel and designed by Malcolm Garrett to resemble 1950s cigar packaging, is considered one of the greatest of all time.

Duran Duran shot music videos for many of the album's tracks, all of which helped spearhead the 1980s MTV revolution. Accompanied by three worldwide hit singles, Rio peaked at number 2 in the UK and remained in the chart for 110 weeks. Initially unsuccessful in the US, the album was remixed by Capitol Records to better match American radio at the time; the remixed album spent 129 weeks on the Billboard chart, reaching number 6.

Rio initially received mixed-to-negative reviews from critics, who commended the melodies but disparaged the lyrics. Retrospective reviewers consider Rio timeless and the band's best work, praising its instrumentation and band performances. With the album, Duran Duran were forerunners in the Second British Invasion of the 1980s, helping ensure the success of other English artists throughout the decade, and along with Culture Club and Spandau Ballet created a teen frenzy similar to Beatlemania during the first British Invasion of the 60s. Rio has since made appearances on best-of lists and has been reissued several times.

"The Chauffeur" was created on the spot in the studio. During downtime, Nick Rhodes retreated to an auxiliary studio room with Blauel, their tape operator, and crafted a track using keyboards, synthesisers, the sound of an ice cube cracking and a conversation about nature for extra effects. Simon Le Bon accompanied him with lyrics he'd originally written as poetry in 1978, and adding a melody on an ocarina. The final track features no contributions from the three other band members. An acoustic version (Blue Silver) was recorded without Rhodes, which appeared as a B-side to "Rio". The keyboardist later quipped, "I guess that was my punishment for have created an entirely electronic track."

"The Chauffeur" received a total of 64,6% yes votes! Previous Duran Duran polls: #21 "The Wild Boys".

[lady-boketto]

05. Body Swap! Konig (Call of Duty NSFW)

Summary: You were both hit with a mysterious gas while on a mission and were subjected to be kept under surveillance for your overall safety. But after a nights rest you find out the gas had a rather curious side effect.

You wake up in the middle of the night, your body aching as you swing your legs to the side of the bed. Feeling drowsy as your feet came in contact with the cold floor, you can feel shivers travel through your body as you make your way to the bathroom that was provided with the room.

There is confusion on your face as you reach the door in a couple of strides but your mind writes it off as the room being smaller than you remember. Your hands come up to the wall closest to you as you try to feel for the light switch, it's much lower than you expected which at this point you are starting to get frustrated. When you finally find the damn thing and turn it on, you enter the washroom but wince at the bright light it provided since your eyes were accustomed to the darkness.

That's when you realize why you felt so strange earlier, this was not your hand that you raised in order to shield your eyes from the harsh light. You blink in panic as you rush to the mirror to check yourself out.

You are shocked to see König's blue eyes staring back at you in the reflection, you're in disbelief as you think you are still dreaming. Until you lift an arm up to touch the mirror as your hand pressed firmly against the cool glass, silently confirming that this not in fact, a dream. Once the initial shock wears off, you are suddenly left feeling more concerned than anything.

Will this eventually wear off?

or are you stuck in König's body forever?

Until you realize that you are currently in his body, heat rushes to your face since you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about the intimate details of what's under König's gear. Your mind is thrown in turmoil over your next course of actions, on one hand you don't want to over step a boundary with a fellow comrade and the other is telling you to take a peak since this may be your only chance. Ultimately your curiosity overpowers all other thoughts telling you this was a bad idea.

Your bring your hands up underneath the shirt that König wore to bed, biting your lip as you noticed he had chest hair and a happy trail that lead into the sweatpants he was wearing as you completely pulled the shirt over the sniper hood you currently wore, deciding it was best to keep his appearance a mystery. You let out a small gasp as you dropped the piece of fabric in surprise as your eyes shamelessly roamed over his body, noticing even more details like his scars and moles that are scattered across his body.

Your mind is in a frenzy at the lewd thoughts that come to mind when you think about how Konig’s body would feel against your own. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt your body heat up as you felt a tingling sensation come from your lower abdomen.

You quickly become embarrassed as you feel his length twitch uncomfortably against the fabric of the boxers Konig is currently wearing. With curiosity you bring your hand over Konig’s arousal, gasping as you slowly begin to stroke the entire length of his cock over his pants and underwear. You immediately feel pleasure as you groan out in Konig’s voice, savouring how he sounds.

You can feel his cock getting harder as you lift one hand to one of Konig’s nipples, lightly rolling and playing with the bud, sending shivers through your body as you bite your lip to stifle your moans. Using your other hand to slide down the fabric of his sweatpants enough to finally let his throbbing cock free. You are caught off guard as it slaps against your skin, his tip is already leaking with precum as you grasp the base of it with one hand.

Your face instantly heats up as you feel the weight of Konig’s cock in your hand, moaning as you begin to gently stroke up and down. The motion causes shivers to run through your body as you feel every vein along his shaft as you continue to stroke his cock. You can feel the heat pooling in your belly, feeling a strange sensation as your thighs begin to twitch in pleasure.

You quickly grip the edge of the sink to stabilize your balance as your orgasm hits you like a truck. Panting heavily as you cum into your hand, the after shocks of it still affecting you as you fail to notice that the door has been slightly ajar the whole entire time. A certain figure had also made a mess while watching you in their body.

[heauxvibez]

Act Right

warning: implied smut (18+)

"I thought I told you to check that attitude at the door," Roman's gaze grew more intense as he watched her small frame move gracefully down the aisle. The lines on his face deepened into a frown, highlighting his frustration at the audacity of the dark-skinned woman. He leaned over the shopping cart, his arms crossed over the handle as he slowly pushed it through the familiar aisles of their local Krogers. His posture was relaxed but on the inside, his irritation was simmering.

"I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone," She shot back, turning her head sharply to look at him over her shoulder. Her side-eye was so intense that she could feel the strain in her eyeballs. The stubborn woman crossed her arms tightly over her chest, rolling her eyes with extreme annoyance and pouting like a child who wasn't getting her way.

They had been roaming the grocery store, bickering over the smallest things. Their arguments ranged from things such as her thinking Roman was glancing another woman's way to trivial matters like deciding which seasoning to use for tonight's dinner. Every aisle seemed to bring a new disagreement, turning their shopping trip into a battlefield.

Roman had managed to keep his cool, but Bryden was unleashing the worst of herself. She fired off provocative comments, some of which Roman brushed off, while others brought what was simmering in him to a boil.

But these outbursts just didn't happen all of a sudden. It had been building up over the past few days.

On Monday, she treated him as invisible, walking past him without a glance. Despite his unavoidable 6'3" build, she seemed to effortlessly overlook him.

Tuesday saw Bryden in a frenzy, slamming and shoving everything in her path. Pots and pans crashed onto the kitchen counter, cabinet doors slammed shut, and even Roman, over 200 pounds, was pushed aside a few times.

By Wednesday, her eye rolls had become a habit. It seemed her eyes were doing acrobatics, rolling so far back that Roman wondered how she could still see straight. Every utterance from him, whether a chuckle, smirk or even a cough, was met with shady looks and comments from her.

Thursday had arrived, and with it came Bryden's relentless barrage of snappy remarks aimed at the WWE star. Curses, teeth-sucking, groans — she pulled out all the stops, showing out completely. Roman was teetering on the edge of his patience.

As he drummed his thumbs lightly against the grocery basket handle, Roman shook his head, forcing a fake smile onto his handsome face amongst strangers while Bryden continued to let snide remarks slip from her lips.

"Bryden Renee Wilson," Roman warned, his face flushing a dark shade of crimson that barely appeared on his tanned skin, his grip on the basket handle turning his knuckles pale.

When Roman resorted to using her full name, Bryden knew he meant business. She noticed the seriousness in his tone, but her own anger overshadowed any effect it might have had.

Roman was use to Bryden's unpredictable mood swings. Usually, he remained calm, using his soothing voice and words to ease her mind. His mastery of language often made it hard for her to hold onto her anger. But this time, his smooth talk fell flat. There was no getting through to her.

In a moment of frustration, Roman abandoned the basket without a thought. He reached out and pulled her body against his towering frame. The sound of her gasping filled the aisle, but not enough to draw the attention of nearby shoppers, but even if it did, Roman paid them no mind. His focus was solely on her, she had finally pushed him to his limit.

"Now, you listen to me. I'm tired of your shit," his voice reverberated through the shelves, his usually warm chocolate brown eyes now darkened with anger. His grip on her body lacked its usual gentleness, now replaced with a grip that left her trembling.

"I've been patient with you for too long, but your attitude is getting out of hand," he continued, echoing against the colorful backdrop of exotic spices and foreign delicacies shelved behind her. Her mean mug softened as she realized how upset she'd made him; Roman wasn't playing games.

His gaze lingered on her, brows knitting together in a puzzled frown as he tried to figure out what could have provoked her behavior.

Her heart was racing, her bottom lip trembling as she fell victim to his penetrating gaze.

Roman's lower body pressed against her abdomen, the bustling aisle around them fading into the background. His growing arousal was clear amongst the fragrant aromas and bustling shoppers, but it didn’t deter him from trying to get his message across.

Bryden swallowed any, if not all, whimpers that tried to escape. She was melting in the moment, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, his bulge growing against her stomach, she was ready to submit to him without question. She had missed this—missed him. His constant travel for work had left her starved for affection, feeling untouched and deprived. Even when he was home, his focus remained on his work, leaving little time for her. The only time she truly got his attention was when she acted out, her rebellious behavior was a desperate plea for the intimacy she craved so bad.

His jaw clenched as he spoke again, his words full of authority, "The disrespectful shit you've been saying and doing is unacceptable. I'm not finna tolerate it any longer. Act right, or I'll make sure you do, understand?"

As his hand tightened its grip on her bottom, each word emphasized with a squeeze, Bryden couldn't help but moan in discomfort. She pushed against his chest, turning her head away and shaking it 'no', her tight coils brushing against his chest and the shelves as she did so.

He cursed silently at her stubbornness, his body burning with fiery tendrils of irritation. With an exhale, he loosened his grip on her bottom, his hand withdrawing before delivering a sharp smack.

Her startled yelp cut through the air, the surprise and pain evident in the small, whimpering sound that followed. His rough hand moved to massage the tender spot, his touch now sought to soothe the sting he had caused.

"Keep trying me, Bryden. You better find you somethin' safe to do, sweetheart," he warned affectionately. She shivered as he placed a tender kiss on her temple, the softness of his lips and the rough texture of his beard sent delicate cascades of goosebumps across her skin. Each bristle brushed lightly against her, the same way they did to her thighs when his head was between them. She inwardly moaned at the thought.

He pushed a small curl from her pretty face before gently nudging her away, causing her to sway slightly on her feet.

His face formed a small, satisfied smirk, his eyes smoldering as he observed his girlfriend's response. Her flushed cheeks betrayed her anger, the sharpness of her expression giving way to a softening of her features. He couldn't help but notice the change in her body language—how her full bottom lip found its way between her teeth, a telltale sign of her horniness. Her legs were crossed, one thick thigh resting atop the other as if trying to keep her juices from dripping.

He walked back to the basket as if nothing had happened, pushing it through the aisle with his usual calm demeanor and a soft whistle. She stood rooted to the spot, still processing the interaction. As he continued walking, he noticed the absence of her footsteps behind him. He paused and glanced back, with a raise of his brow his eyes locked onto her, silently urging her to catch up.

"Come on, baby," he called softly, his voice gentle but still holding command. Without hesitation, she followed him, continuing their grocery run. The noise of the store faded as they walked side by side, picking up items from the shelves.

Usually, she'd murmur a few things under her breath if she was still irritated, but this time, she remained silent. For once, Bryden held her tongue. It was music to Roman's ears.

During their moment, when Roman was searching for her soul through her eyes, he truly understood why she was so frustrated—she always behaved like this when he returned from road trips, acting out like a spoiled brat. Maybe not to this degree, but she still displayed these behaviors nonetheless.

Her sulkiness and defiance were clear signs of sexual frustration. The way she became calm and quiet after giving her a bit of tough love confirmed his suspicion. Despite this, he knew it was unacceptable, and she needed to learn there were consequences for disrespecting him.

Oh, he was definitely going to discipline her once they got home. His mind raced with thoughts of how he would handle her, ensuring she understood the boundaries and the repercussions of crossing them. Maybe have her pick a popsicle stick from their punishment jar.

He was going to make sure she received some act right tonight..

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

Whew, it's been a minute. Hope ya'll enjoyed!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

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[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty one

authors note: good lord, ya'll was in a frenzy following that last one. hope this provides some clarity and closure.

cw/tw: angst, solana being very upset, and smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

gif belongs to @romanreigns

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

Solana’s cried a lot in the past month.

More than she’s probably ever cried in her life.

But the past few hours have to be the heaviest bout she’s experienced since her mother was killed. 

Everything hearts. Her head. Her body. Her heart.

She’s confused and angry and scared and nervous and so many different emotions at once that all she wants to do is scream, but she can’t even do that, because she has nothing left in her. She spent the night crying her eyes out, sleeping a little, then crying her eyes out some more. So much so that she’d be surprised if she got a good two consistent hours of sleep.

She just feels so empty. Like everything she thought she knew is now no more. Because it isn't. Because the man she thought Roman was has turned out to be exactly who he is. Not the….version he showed her. And she feels so stupid, so naive. She gave him so much, exposed so much of herself to him, loved him, and what has it gotten her?

The epic, incurable sting of betrayal.

And a part of her didn’t want to believe it, wanted to believe that maybe it’s not what she thought, but what was said was pretty self-explanatory. And if that wasn’t enough pressing evidence, the fact that Roman kept calling and texting her afterwards, probably realizing the phone was still connected, was the nail in the coffin.

Proof that he knew fucked up.

That he was caught.

That she now knows the truth about their marriage. About it all.

Solana couldn’t bear seeing his name continue to pop up on her phone, resulting in her just turning the damn thing off. 

She doesn’t want to talk to him, doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want anything from him.

Just thinking about it makes the heavy lump in the back of her throat throb. She’s so tired of crying. Tired of it all. 

Turning over in her bed, a part of her wishes she hadn’t asked to cancel her therapy appointment with Gail, citing that she was feeling physically unwell. That’s not a lie, but Gail would be the perfect person to speak to right now. If only she had it in her to talk. But, she doesn’t. She has no words for what she still doesn’t fully understand. 

A knock on the door disturbs her from her depressing thoughts. Solana shifts in the bed, calling out in a weak voice, “I want to be alone right now.”

Bautista’s deep voice sounds on the other side of the door. “It’s a wellness check.”

Solana shuts her eyes. She should have known this was coming. She was practically silent during breakfast and retreated back to her room in that same silence, which was bound to garner a visit from staff to make sure she’s okay. 

With a heavy sigh, she kicks the blankets off and intentionally avoids looking at her reflection in the large mirror anchored on top of the dresser. She’s certain she’d hate what would be looking back at her.

Using the back of her hand to wipe at her eyes, Solana takes a deep breath and turns the knob, opening the door, expecting to see a nurse or maybe even Gail. 

But, she’s wrong. 

So wrong.

Because it’s neither of those women. Not even Bautista.  Instead, standing before her is none other than the one person she doesn’t want to see. At all.

Shaking her head, nose turned up, Solana goes to close the door. “I have nothing to say to you—” But, she should know better, know that Roman is not the man to ever be denied.

He reaches out his arm, putting an abrupt, effective stop. “We need to talk.”

Knowing there’s no way in hell she’ll win the battle for the door, she instead reaffirms her position. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Solana turns away, heading back for her bed when she hears the door shut and footsteps. 

“Baby—”

“No!” She snaps, twisting around and jumping away from Roman as he tries to reach for her arm. “Don’t—don’t call me that. You’re a liar.”

It’s only now that he’s a bit closer, and she’s actually looking at him, that she sees just how….different he looks. Concerned. Worried. Scared, almost. “Solana, would you just listen to me?”

“Why?” She demands. “So you can tell me more lies?” Solana was all but certain she cried out all the tears in her body last night, yet standing in front of Roman, just looking at him, makes her sick. Makes her sad.

Makes her angry.

He swallows, tone dripping with anguish. “It’s not what you think—”

“Were you working?” It’s a simple question. One that should elicit a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer right away, but instead Roman just looks at her with that same wounded expression. With a tinge of something else. Guilt.

“Exactly.”

“Solana—” Again he tries to reach for her, and again she moves away. She doesn’t even want to be in the same room with him right now, let alone have him touch her.

“No!” She shouts, hating this. Hating all of it. The hurt. The betrayal. It’s disgusting to her. “I trusted you! I trusted you more than anyone, and you lied to me. You said you’d never lie to me. You said—you said you’d never hurt me, and that’s exactly what you’ve done!”

If not for the heaviness for this situation, Solana would be floored by how expressive Roman is being right now. No stoic, unreadable expression. Just a man who looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Like her words are more of a physical assault on him than any injury he’s ever received. 

Sniffling, she takes her hand and wipes at her eyes. She can only imagine how red and puffy they must be from all the crying she’s done the past twenty–four hours. “I know that—that I’ve been a lot, but you didn’t—if you didn’t want me—if you didn’t want to be with me—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that,” he cuts her off with all the swiftness. His voice taking on an almost angry tone. Like he’s offended she could even fix her lips to say that. “Of course, I want to be with you.”

But, she’s not listening, Solana instead slips into the spiraling she’s done all night. That lane of self-blame. “I know—I know that I haven’t been the best wife, that I’ve been here,” she gestures around the room and points to herself, “but I’m trying—I’ve been trying.” It’s a cascade of emotions that have spilled out of whatever semblance of resolve and border she had around herself. All of her insecurities falling out in the open for him to see. “I’m trying.” She breaks down, hands covering her face as she cries into her palms. Sobs that wreck her body and make her legs feel so weak. 

But, it’s when she feels him directly in front of her, his arms around her that she shakes her head and drops her hands. “Don’t touch me!” Solana shouts, trying to push him away. But, he doesn’t budge, just continues to hold her. “Déjame en paz! ¡Te odio!” Solana progresses to angrily beating on his chest to get him away, but he says nothing, does nothing. “Te odio…..” Just continues to let her throw all of her hurt and anger at him until her fists grow just as tired as her resolve, Solana eventually falling and crying into his chest. 

Roman carefully lifts her up and carries her over to the bed, laying her down and not wasting a second to lie beside her, gathering her into his arms yet again and positioning her on his chest.

It’s such a confusing experience. She wants him to leave, but she wants him to stay. She hates him touching her, but she craves being close to him. He disgusts her, but she finds herself clutching onto him.

She hates him, but oh how she loves him. 

Solana cries until there’s nothing left, depleting her body of nearly all of its energy.  Her red eyes are open and focused on nothing in particular as Roman rubs soothing circles on the small of her back. But, it’s only when they’ve been submerged in radio silence for nearly ten minutes that he finally speaks.

Voice low and borderline hoarse. “I didn’t cheat on you, Solana.” There’s not much left in her to offer any sort of response other than the lump in the back of her throat pulsing. Throbbing. Trying to recharge for the next breakdown. “But….but I haven’t been honest with you either.”

She doesn’t want to talk to him. Doesn’t want anything from him. And yet, she finds herself asking, “where were you?”

“I can’t tell you.” Solana closes her eyes and shoots up, moving to get out the bed, away from him, But, Roman is faster, grabbing her by her waist and angling her, so that she’s looking at him. His eyes are soft and damn near pleading. Desperate. “Because I want to show you.”

—-----------

Solana hasn’t a clue how she ended up in this position. 

Sitting in the passenger seat of an SUV, Roman in the driver’s seat, driving them to a destination unknown but one that’s clearly not anywhere close to home considering it’s been almost two hours, and they still haven’t arrived to wherever it is he’s taking her.

She shouldn’t have agreed. Shouldn’t have allowed him to convince her to acquiesce so easily. Shouldn’t have let him inform Dr. Stratus and Gail that she’ll be gone for a day or two. Shouldn’t have packed her small bag and climbed in the escalade and allowed him to guide her to this unknown place.

Solana just hates it all. It’s why she hasn’t said a word to him. Not a single one. She just sits in her seat, body angled to the window, earbuds plugged in playing music that resonates so deeply with all of her emotions right now.

Every now and then, the feelings will brew, and she’ll have to quickly wipe away the silent tears, praying he doesn’t see them.

Though, she’s certain he does. 

She slips in and out of surface leveled sleep for the majority of the ride but is eventually woken up by Roman lightly shaking her shoulder. His expression is still soft, his voice calm, “we’re here.” 

Blinking back into awareness, Solana wipes at her eyes and looks around, seeing the car is indeed parked. Her passenger door is open, Roman waiting patiently for her to get out. 

She unbuckles her seatbelt, mouth dropping open when she sees they’re in the middle of a forest. Nothing but greenery surrounding them and the beautiful house that seems tucked away from it all. Solana is starting to wish she’d stayed awake. Turning to Roman, she asks, “where—where are we?”

He doesn’t say anything, just motions for her to follow him. And for some reason, she does. She doesn’t push him more, just stays close behind him as he walks up the stairs of the home and pulls out a key, unlocking the front door. 

Roman steps to the side and motions for her to walk in first. Again, she says nothing, just silently follows his directions, mind still racing about everything that’s happened as well as just what in the hell is going on.

Stepping into the home, Solana’s mouth naturally falls open. The interior is beautiful, warm in color, almost naturistic with the design. It feels warm and cozy and welcoming. Like a safe space for any and all who happen to venture into the literal house in the woods. 

Roman suddenly calls out, speaking in a language she doesn’t understand. Samoan, if she had to take a guess. Him doing so, however, makes her even more nervous. 

Are they not alone?

Now, she needs to know. Needs to have her questions answered. She grabs his arm, ignoring the sparks that fly at touching him. “Roman, what is goi—”

“And he says that I’m the one with the memory problems.” Solana overhears the almost aged voice of a woman, a voice that’s very much unlike the one she heard over the phone. “atalii o le uso, were you not just over—here?”

Solana’s gaze sets on the woman. She’s up in age, that much is obvious. Tanned complexion, warm brown eyes, her hair long and a beautiful combination of salt, pepper, and a brunette color. She’s a little on the heavier side, Solana taking note of the almost limp she walks with as well the disfiguration on both her arms. 

Burns. 

However, when her gaze switches from Roman to herself, Solana sees the woman smile brightly. A smile that’s eerily similar to the man standing beside her. 

“Well, it’s about damn time.” Solana is still trying to process just what’s going on when the woman walks over to her, eyes squinting with curiosity. “Such a beautiful girl.” Solana freezes initially when the woman pulls her in for a hug. Warm and friendly. Just like the atmosphere of the home. It’s…..comforting almost. 

The other woman is the first to end the hug, though her friendly expression remains focused on Solana “Hi….” Meanwhile, Solana remains abundantly lost in this situation. “I’m—”

“Oh, child. I know exactly who you are.” She waves off Solana’s introduction, almost playful gaze switching to Roman. “But, something tells me you don’t know who I am.”

At all. 

“Solana.” It’s then that Roman steps forward,  gesturing to the older woman. “This is Fetu.” He swallows, something flashing in his eyes. “My aunt.”

The past twenty-four hours have been filled with nothing but bombshells, but this one has to take the cake. Solana’s mouth is ajar, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two. She sees it now. The same smile. Same eyes. The burns.

Similar to Roman’s. The ones he received the night his family was killed, family that included an aunt, according to him.

This…..this can’t be her….right? 

A different one maybe who coincidentally has the same type of injuries Roman sustained that night…..maybe.

Or not.

But how?

Completely taken back, she finds herself asking him, “your…..your aunt?” 

Fetu says something in what she would guess is Samoan. Roman sighs, loudly, looking over at Solana, expressing quietly, “I’ll explain later.”

That’s…..that’s very much appreciated, because Solana has so many questions.

“Men.” Fetu rolls her eyes. “They have such horrible timing.” Her gaze shifts for a second as she focuses on Solana. “Child, have you been crying?” That seems like an understatement. Again, Fetu speaks in Samoan, voice suddenly angry as she slaps Roman on the arm. “I’ll deal with you later.” She switches English and goes to move her arm around Solana, “come. I was just about to prepare dinner. Roman said you like to cook?”

At that, Solana’s eyes light up a bit. “I–I do.”

“Good, then you won’t mind helping this old lady, now, will you?” It’s not really posed as a question. More of a directive, Solana briefly glances back at Roman as she’s guided away from him. He simply gives her a nod of reassurance and disappears through the door they just walked through.

—--------

Solana likes Fetu. It’s a bit of a strong statement considering she’s known her for less than 24 hours, 12 hours even. But, it’s true.

Roman’s aunt is kind and funny. A spitfire who keeps a smile on her face the entire time they’re in the kitchen cooking together, the older woman so patient as she explains each step of the traditional Samoan dish they’re preparing. 

Solana is washing the dishes, with only a few left when Fetu calls her from where she sits at the kitchen table. Solana grabs the towel and dries off her hands, tossing it on the counter as she walks over.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Oh please, I know I’m ancient, but don’t make me feel like it.” Solana smiles and sits down in the chair on the adjacent side of the table. Fetu’s eyes are focused on Solana in a studying manner, a small chuckle leaving her mouth. “I see it.” 

Understandably, Solana is confused, asking in a small voice. “See what?”

“The light.” She answers, returning the smile. “Roman refers to you as his light. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. I see it now.”

Solana sits there, silenced and taken back for the 19th time today. “He….he calls me that?”

She nods, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Among other things.” Solana would love to know just what those things are, but there’s something she wants—needs—to know more. A confirmation, really. 

“Was—was Roman here with you this weekend?” A question she’s been wondering from the moment Roman introduced her to his aunt, the only thing confusing her being the voices. Fetu is most definitely not the woman she heard on the phone. Her voice is too aged and scratchy. 

“He was,” she confirms, and Solana’s stomach drops. “A surprise but welcomed, nonetheless.”

Meanwhile, Solana is doing her best to regulate her breathing and not freak out on this poor, old woman. “I—was someone else here too?”

Fetu nods. “My younger cousin, Ava, stays with me as well, because apparently I need a caretaker.” She rolls her eyes, explaining, “she’s out taking care of some personal business but will be back shortly. I can’t wait for you two to…..is everything alright, child?”

Far from it. Solana doesn’t even need to ask any more questions, because certain pieces are coming together. The truth is gradually revealing itself to be something entirely different from what she thought it was.

“No,” Solana answers with a surprising level of honesty. “I—I really messed something up.”

“Does it have to do with Roman?” Silently nodding, Fetu makes a sound. “I see…..” She reaches over, placing a hand over Solana’s. “Solana, I know that all of this must be confusing to you, and it’s clear while I’ve been asking my nephew to meet you, today was not planned, and I’m guessing it wasn’t from anything good.” Solana says nothing, silent tears falling down her face. “And there’s much I wish to discuss with you once you know the full story, but let me just say this.” She gives a gentle squeeze. “There’s no one on this earth who my nephew cares about more than you. You have completely changed his life, brought out a side of him I thought they killed, that died that awful, awful night.” Solana gasps quietly, stuck on both the words as well as indirect confirmation that this is the same aunt she believed was killed with the rest of his family. “I know he can be difficult at times. Stubborn. Hardheaded. A closed book, but….you must understand the massive weight he carries. Even as a boy, they put so much pressure on him to be perfect.” She shakes her head, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That’s why he kept him away from him, because I always just let him be a kid. Be human.” 

There’s continued confusion at the he part, but Solana doesn’t want to interrupt, doesn’t want to pry too much. Especially since there’s a not so light conversation she still needs to have with her cousin.

“Roman calls you his light because you are. Whether he’s ready to admit it or not, he needs you, and something tells me you need him just as much.” Truer words have never been spoken, “so whatever it is that happened, I can promise you it’s nothing you two can’t work through, because he’d do anything for you, especially if it’s to keep you.” 

By the end of it, Solana has a fresh set of tears, the beautiful words from someone who clearly knows Roman, and knows him well, meaning the world to her. 

The same way he does.

Even if…..even if her behavior earlier indicated otherwise. 

It’s why…..why she needs to make this right.

“Thank you,” she manages through the emotionality of it all. “That….that means a lot to me.” Because it does. More than Fetu could ever know. Clearing her throat, she stands up and dusts off her pants, sharing, “I think…..I think I need to go talk to Roman.”

Fetu chuckles softly. “I think you do too.” She motions with her hand. “Up the stairs. Last room on the right.”

Solana smiles appreciatively. “Thank you.”

The older woman says nothing else as Solana finds her legs carrying her to the dark staircase, up to the second level and down the hall to the room Fetu identified as belonging to Roman.

She starts to knock before entering but ultimately decides against it. They’re way past that point.

So, she opens the door, quietly closing it behind her when she hears Roman’s deep voice from a bit of the distance given the size of the bedroom. He’s in the bathroom ,on the phone, speaking in a different language. It doesn’t sound Samoan. Maybe Italian.

Regardless, she moves over and sits on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for him to walk out while also wondering just what in the hell she’s going to say. Sorry, of course, but what more? That can’t be enough. Not with how she acted. The lack of trust in him and their relationship completely shelved to the side, replaced with her borderline irrational behavior. 

She didn’t even give him a chance to speak.

Just the thought of how unfair she treated him bringing another set of tears to her eyes at the same moment the bathroom door opens, revealing a shirtless Roman, dark sweatpants resting low on his hips, hair down and clearly in the midst of air drying given its voluminous state. If not for the nature of why she’s here, of what transpired, she’d be distracted at him in such a state.

But, that’s not the focus. She doesn’t care about that right now. 

She just cares about him.

About making this right.

And the minute Roman’s gaze sets on her, he says something quickly and lowly, followed by him hanging up the phone. He places it atop the dresser near him, eyes never leaving her. “Solana, what’s—”

He’s silenced when she hops up from the bed and rushes over to him, practically throwing her body into his, holding him. Tight.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, uncaring about any sort of plan she had regarding how to tackle this. How to make this right. She simply just needs him to know how sorry she is. “I shouldn’t have said those things—I didn’t mean—”

“Solana, it’s okay.” Him holding the back of her head with such tenderness is an equal match to the gentle way he’s speaking to her right now. Undeserved in her opinion.

“No,” she forces out. Pulling back, she shakes her head. “I was—I was mean to you, and—and I didn't trust you.” He’s always been so good to her. It’s almost embarrassing to Solana how easily she could believe he could do something like that to her. “You didn’t deserve t–that.”

Roman, however, simply looks down at her with an almost nervous expression. “You weren’t entirely wrong, Solana. I was lying to you. Like Ava said, I’ve been lying to you.” He lightly taps on her hip and motions for her to follow him as he sits on the edge of the bed. Solana is right beside him, one leg up on the mattress, the other on the ground. “Fetu…..”

And just like that, she knows where he’s going. Knows what he’s about to share.

Truth be told, the past twenty four hours have been such a whirlwind of emotions that she’s not even sure this is the right time to be having this conversation, but it’s one that needs to be had. Whether she wants to or not.  Because she’d rather not. Rather not put Roman through any more unnecessary stress than she already has. “Ro, you—you don’t—”

“Someone dragged me out of the house. I never found out who.” Interrupting her, his voice is eerily similar to the first night he opened up about his family, about that night when so much was lost. “But, I—I couldn’t just stand there and let my family die. So, I ran back in.” Her chest tightens, listening to him recall such a harrowing night. “There was so much smoke and fire, and I don’t know how the hell I got to her, but I did. She was hurt and burned, but she could walk, so I guided us both out, but I got burned too in the process.” Fetu. He has to be talking about Fetu.

It’s hard for her to imagine him. An innocent 10 year old boy who’d just lost his family in the most horrific way still doing what he can to help. To save them. To save her.

Solana naturally moves closer to Roman, holding onto his arm, her thumb soothingly running over his tattoos. 

“I wanted—” He closes his eyes, and for the first time in maybe ever, Solana can see and hear the visceral emotions in his voice. “I tried to go back in there, but one of the firefighters restrained me, and I was too weak and injured to fight back. I ended up passing out shortly after that.”

“Roman….”

He continues, hard gaze focused on the intricate design of the large rug on the floor. “When I came to, they told me everyone was dead. Including Fetu. That she’d died from her injuries.” 

Solana gasps. 

What?

They….lied to him?

Roman, however, just continues to recall his trauma, expression still blank, voice betraying all of the emotions brewing beneath the surface. “So, for years, I worked to accept the fact that I was alone, because at the end of the day, Jimmy and Jey still have Rikishi. They had their brothers and mother. Rikishi had his own family. Everyone did. Except me, cause mine was all dead.” 

There’s something so heartbreaking about hearing that. Solana thinking back on how she felt the first time he opened up about his family’s murder. He’s right. They might all be blood related, but they each have their own family units. 

Roman’s, however, was taken from him.

“Then, when I turned 21, Rikishi finally told me the truth. That she was alive and had been living in hiding all those years. He was the only one who knew.” It’s the part she was still confused about that his continued explanation touches on, providing an answer but also something else. 

Anger.

“Why?” Solana cuts in, unable to help herself. “Why would he keep that from you? Why so long? Why at all?”

Why would he keep an innocent child away and separated from the closest family member he had left? That just sounds so….cruel.

Roman swallows, a dark, emotionless chuckle leaving his voice. “Said he was worried she’d make me weak. He wanted to be sure my training was effective, hence why he waited a couple years after I became Tribal Chief to make sure I could still handle the truth and be what they made me to be.”

Solana thinks back to her conversation with Fetu. Rikishi must be the he she was referring to.

Roman, however, keeps sharing, opening up more than she would have ever expected. “I don’t—I can’t come see her as much as I’d like to, because I don’t want to put her safety at risk.” That makes so much sense. All the sense. To keep her safe, he has to keep his distance. “But, when…..when I need to get away and clear my head, or I just need someone to talk to, I come see her.”

Solana thinks back to something, a few months ago when Roman up and disappeared for almost a week. “That’s where you went that one time…..you came here to see her?” He nods. She would have never in a million years guessed this. Guessed that Roman’s safe space is with the one person he probably needs the most but can only have in small doses. 

It’s almost inconceivable to her that his own family could do that to him. To a child. To deprive an innocent child of the only, close family they have left. To keep them separated so he wouldn’t be weak. 

It makes her heart heavy. 

It  only gets heavier though with the next thing that comes out of his mouth. “She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s last year.” Another devastating, crushing blow. “Some visits, she knows who I am. Others….I’m a complete stranger.”

“Oh my God…..” Roman lost her as a child, regained her as a man and is now having to intermittently experience that loss over and over again. It's so cruel and entirely unfair to someone who truly deserves the world.

She can’t imagine what that’s like for him. 

It’s like Roman is reading her thoughts, his next explanation touching on some of her questions and thoughts.

“Fetu is….she’s always been like a mother to me. My own mother….that was…..complicated.” She believes it. Doesn’t know how, but she just does. “Fetu was the only person—before you—to ever tell me that she loves me.” Solana’s heart simply breaks all over again, because just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does.

While her father never once uttered those sacred words, Nina never let a day pass without both verbalizing and showing her daughter all the purest love in the world. Solana almost finds it inconceivable that Roman’s parents truly never expressed loving him. But, when she thinks about it, it makes sense. 

His aloofness. His stoicism. It’s not just because of the titles he holds. It’s because of the upbringing he had. 

The lack of care and nurturance.

The lack of love.

Outside of Fetu.

“Solana….” His voice again takes on a desperate, almost foreboding tone. “Outside of myself, Ava, and Rikishi, the twins are the only ones who know about Fetu. Not even Paul knows. I know…..I know Naomi and Bayley are your friends, but—”

“Roman.” She brings her hands to his face, eyes locked with his. “I swear to you on my mother’s grave that I will never tell a soul. Ever.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. Nothing about what has and will be experienced will leave her mouth unless it’s through discussion with Roman herself. Not even the twins, even if they do know about Fetu. “And I’m—I’m so sorry I put you in this position. Where you felt like you had to tell me. If—if I knew—”

“But, you didn’t,” he cuts in, admitting. “And a part of me wants to be upset with you that you didn’t trust me, but the truth is I would be a hypocrite, because I haven’t been honest with you either.”

She wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to keep talking, that he’s been vulnerable enough, but something tells her not to. Tells her that he needs to get this out.

And she’s glad she doesn’t stop him, because his next confession nearly blows her away.

“I’ve—I’ve been struggling, Solana.” Her shoulders slump and frown deepens. “Ever since—ever since you tried—” he doesn’t say what, but he doesn’t have to either. She knows exactly what he’s talking about. “I’m a fucking mess without you. I think about you all the fucking time. The thought of anything happening to you scares the shit out of me.” Roman Reigns admitting to being scared of something, anything, let alone losing her, is something she could have never predicted. But, it’s exactly what he’s saying, and it nearly breaks her heart. “So much that when I read your letter, my initial answer was no, because I wanted you home with me. Because I miss having you around. I want—I need you around.” Her eyes shut, for so many different reasons. “I need you”

“And I need you to know that I would never cheat on you, Solana. Ever.” Tears forming again, she opens her eyes and her mouth to apologize again, but she can’t because he has to continue with the confessions.  “I love you too much to do that to you.” Her breathing is halted, focus centering in on the words that just left his mouth or didn’t leave his mouth, because Solana is all of a sudden questioning her hearing. There’s no way he just….no. “But, I—I don’t know how to love you either.”

It feels like there should be some type of cap on newfound, previously unbelievable things being dropped on a person, because Solana is at her absolute max. The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, but this….this has to take the cake. 

Roman….loves her? 

The tears are definitely falling now. She’s more or less speechless, overcome by the emotionality of it all. “Ro….” 

“I don’t know how to love and be with you and still be the Tribal Chief and the Head of the Table and the Capo and every other fucking perfect thing I have to be all the fucking time.” His voice becomes increasingly bitter with each word that leaves his mouth, the full extent of the weight he carries all the time being laid out in the open for her to dissect and process.

This is the last place she expected their conversation to go, but that’s a moot point. What matters is that they’re here, and the last thing she wants to do is discourage him from being open and honest with her. She can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him. 

Solana stands up and  moves in front of Roman, lowering herself onto his lap, bringing her hands to his face. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I never have, and I never will. I don’t need you to be the Tribal Chief or the Head of the Table. Or anything else.” She moves her hand to his chest, over his heart, speaking firmly yet gently. “I just need you to be my Roman.”

His gaze visibly softens. Relief. Happiness. Fear.

“And you say….you say you don’t know how to love me, but….what do you think you’ve been doing?” She smiles, head tilted.  “All this time, I’ve just been thinking how you are with me is because you care about me, and you do, but it’s much deeper than that. It’s because….it’s because you love me, Ro. I think…..I think you’ve loved me for a while. The same way that I’ve loved you for a while, We just….it took us a while to catch on.”

Because what Solana is now realizing is that the love has always been there. For him. For her. Always there. Lying dormant, waiting for both of them to step into the space of realization.

“And the honest truth is that I don’t know how to love you either. I just know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and no one else I want to be with.” If it’s not Roman, she doesn’t want it. He’s her forever. “So, here’s what we’re going to do.” Smiling softly, she pushes back some of his hair.  “I’m going to love you, and you’re going to love me. We’re not going to question it, not think too much about how to do it and just do it.”

Because what is also true is that clearly neither of them had the best, healthiest examples of love and what a healthy marriage looks like. So, they have to make it their own. Trial and error. Living and learning. Knowing that at the end of the day, what matters most is their love for one another. 

“And you’re going to talk to me, the same way you let me talk to you, because what I do know is that people who love each other help each other out. You help me so much, more than you’ll probably ever know. Now it’s my turn to return the favor, okay?” 

That might even be the thing that Solana needs the most. Needs him to know that he’s not alone. He has her. He’ll always have her. 

“I’ll—I’ll try.” Roman nods, and Solana closes her eyes. That’s all she needs. All she’ll ever need. 

Pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. She tries to move off his lap when he just so slightly holds her, preventing the separation. “What’s—”

“Can—” He swallows, an almost nervous hint to his deep, usually confident voice. “Can I make love to you?”

It’s not a question she was expecting. Not in the slightest. But, her answer is an obvious one. Solana gets up to stand directly in front of him. Moving her hands to the waistband of her pants, she pushes them down her legs, stepping out, kicking the material to the side. 

Her fingers then move to the bottom of her shirt as she lifts it over her head, also tossing it to the side. Her eyes never leaving his, Solana reaches behind and unclasps her bra, breast falling freely at the same time her bra also tumbles to the ground. And lastly, with fingers hooked around the band of her underwear, she slides off and steps out of them, the last piece of clothing now piled with the rest. 

Completely bare in front of him, in more than just the physical, Solana places both of her hands on his broad shoulders and answers in the softest voice, “yes.”

Roman briefly closes his eyes. His hands move back to her waist, gently tugging her closer to him. Solana’s eyes also shut just as he opens his and drinks all of her in. “aulelei oe…..” Oblivious to what he’s just said, Solana is instead tightening her grip on him when he moves his mouth to her neck, starting a downward trail of kisses down her body.

She’s missed this. So much. “Roman….”

She releases a sharp gasp when he covers his mouth over her areola, his other hand softly kneading her breast. Solana can already feel the wetness pooling between her legs as he sucks on her nipple, finally releasing with an audible pop as he tugs her onto his lap so that she’s straddling him.

Her eyes lock with him as he lifts his hand to her cheek. “How the hell could I ever be with somebody else when all I see is you?” It’s a rhetorical question posed with so much tenderness and dedication. It brings tears to her eyes.

Solana brings her hands back to his face, voice quiet and purposeful. “Make love to me.”

It doesn’t need to be asked or said twice. 

Roman is careful in how he lifts her and lays her down on the bed. Solana moves up the mattress, watching with a steady beating heart as Roman starts to remove his clothes. Movements somehow graceful but determined, like he’s just as eager and wanting this as much as she does. Because he is. Because Solana isn’t certain they’ve ever wanted each other more than they do in this moment. This space of full, visceral vulnerability. 

Completely naked, a small flash of nervousness fills her as Roman moves over her, the heavy, lengthy weight of him semi hard between his thick, muscular thighs. It’s been over a month since they were last intimate, and as much as she wants him, she knows there might be some initial pain.

Roman seems to catch onto her anxiety, hand going to her chin, capturing the softest kiss before he assures, “I’ll be gentle.”

Soft smile on her face, her hand moving to his chest, she reminds him, “you always are.”

Roman returns his mouth to hers, engaging her in a sensual kiss full of all the longing and love that fills the room, dances up the walls and creeps through the cracks and crevices. It’s overwhelming in all of the right and wonderful ways. 

But the more passionate their make out becomes, her nectar soaks her inner thighs, the throbbing between her legs so bothersome that she ends up breaking their kiss, both of them breathing heavily. Solana pulls him closer, her thigh lifting against his hip, another gasp leaving her mouth at the feel of him warm and hard against her apex.

“Please…..” She breathes, eyes shutting when Roman lays his forehead against hers. “Need you….” Solana finds her hand traveling down his chest, venturing until he’s hot, heavy, and pulsing in the palm of her hand. She watches him release a shaky breath at the contact of her hand on him, his shoulders tensing almost when she moves to align him at her aching, dripping entrance. 

Roman reaches and stops her, Solana confused only briefly when he instead takes over, directing her, “hold onto me.”

She nods and lifts her hand, instead doing just as he advised, her wrists locked over one another behind his neck. And the minute his thick mushroom head presses against her velvety lips, they’re both moaning, breathing uneven. But before he can ask her if she’s okay, if she wants him to stop, Solana wiggles her hips and scoots down the bed, wanting more of him. All of him. 

Roman takes note of this and tips her head upward, claiming her lips for another kiss, maintaining and holding it as he continues to slide into her welcomed warmth. Solana’s hands shift to his back, nails pressed against his tanned skin, tiny crescent indents formed from the sharpness of her nails.

“Fuck. I’ve missed this,” he breathes against her once fully situated and settled in her. The fullness of and tightness of which, something that takes them both a second to adjust to. “Missed this feeling. So tight….just for me…”

They’re both so deeply synched that Solana doesn’t even have to prompt him to move, Roman’s thrusts initially gentle to continue to help her re-adjust, to reacclimate to the feel of him, so deep, so good.

“Baby…..” She moans, holding onto him, thighs pressing against his hips as he pistons in and out of her, her back arching, head falling back against the pillow. “Roman.”

Roman groans, his thrusts purposeful and focused. “Does that feel good, baby?” 

Her answer should be obvious, but Solana nods as best she can, whining when he hits that spot, that sensitive space that always brings tears to her eyes. “Yes, baby.”

Head resting in the crook of her shoulder, Roman reaches for the headboard, using it to steady him as Solana continues to hold onto him, ankles locking above his ass. “Look what you do to me.” Her whimpers and moans under him only serve as fodder for his determination to make her feel good, to make her feel a fraction of how he feels being inside her like this. “I’ve never wanted or needed anyone like I need you, Solana.”

“Don’t need anything else in this life. Just you. Always you.” Her eyes shut, still holding onto him as she kisses his temple. “And you can’t leave me, Sol.” Solana’s stomach coils and twists when he switches angles, somehow reaching her even deeper than he already was. “You understand me?” He steals another kiss, whispering against her mouth. “I can’t lose you.”

There’s something deeper beyond his words, something underlying and still incredibly painful for him. And Solana knows exactly what it is. Tears from a different reason brimming her eyes, she palms his cheeks, forcing him to meet her contrite gaze. “I’m sorry.” His eyes shut, and her chest tightens. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s lost so much already. Had more loss as a child than some people will ever experience in their entire  lifetime. And almost losing her, because of her actions is clearly something that he’s still not over, that she didn’t realize affected him as deeply as it did. 

And she hates that. Hates that she missed how much he’s been struggling.

How much he’s been hurting. 

“Never again,” she promises. Never again can she put him through that, can she do that to him, can be the cause of so much emotional turmoil for him. “I promise, Ro.”

He pauses, stops mid movement, opens his eyes and looks at her, fully vulnerable and exposed. Letting her in in a way she knows no one else is privy to. This isn’t the Tribal Chief or the Capo. 

It’s just Roman.

Her Roman.

Solana takes a sharp breath as he pulls out of her almost entirely only to enter back in, slowly, gradually, a breathy “I love you” falling out of his mouth. Once again, he somehow manages to reach a different depth that has her back almost completely arched off the mattress, her breast pressing against his hard chest.

“Roman.” She’s not sure she could ever tire of having his name in her mouth, on her lips. It’s embedded in her soul at this point.

“I love you,” he repeats it, hips meeting hers, Solana whimpering from the overwhelming nature of it all. “I love you.” And again, each sensual thrust accompanied by a confession. A vow. A promise. An oath.

The pleasure continues, flows, consistent and strong, depleting her body of all energy while filling her with a rapture that feels too beautiful to be human. It carries and sustains her until she absolutely can’t take it anymore, Solana’s orgasm strong and pulsing, her toes curling and stomach coiling. Roman talks her through it, loving and comforting, his own coming over him not even minutes later. 

And the minute he falls down on the bed next to her, his arms are around her, tugging her close into his side. He kisses her temple, Solana holding onto his forearm, murmuring, “I love you.”

A part of her expects him to not say it back, to somehow be limited to only so many uses of a term that’s, sadly, unfamiliar to him. “I love you too.”

But, he does, and it may be the best thing anyone has ever said to her. She cranes her neck to look at him. “Enough to start talking to me more?” A small frown falls on her face. “I mean it, Roman, you—you can’t keep holding it all in.” She knows better than anyone else how badly that can turn out. “You always say you’ve got me, but–but I’ve got you too.”

Emotion flashes in his beautiful brown eyes. “I know.” Is his reply, quiet but understanding. “I’m—I’m going to work on it.”

“Good.” That’s all she can ask for. Because Roman has been so patient and understanding with her. The least she can do is return the favor.  “And I’ll start us off….” Taking a deep breath, Solana decides to share with him a secret she’s been keeping. “I’ve been having dr—”

Abrupt banging on the door startles Solana to the point that she nearly jumps out the bed. Her reaction makes Roman smile when she buries her head under the blankets.

“Roman, you fucking asshole! You parked that big ass truck in my spot!” Solana peeks from under the blanket, curious to see her husband’s reaction at being spoken to so boldly but also realizing she recognizes that voice. It’s the voice of the woman on the phone. This Ava person, most likely. His cousin. “Pe e te fa'agaoioi pe ou te sasaina i fafo faamalama uma!”

Roman, however, looks unbothered and borderline amused. “O ki o loo i luga o le matau ki. Aveese oe lava.”

Solana taps him on his chest, asking, “what did she sa—”

“Ava! Leave your cousin alone!” Fetu’s voice also calls out from outside the door, Solana’s eyes widening again. “He’s having make up sex with his wife!”

And just like that, it goes from bad to worse. Solana wants to melt into the bed, the floor, the ground. Anything to escape this humiliation. Looking over at Roman, she yell-whispers, “she heard us?”

Her husband, however, still looks just as unbothered and amused as before. “Baby, you’re not exactly very quiet.”

“Oh my god, Solana is here?” Ava gasps on the other side. “I’m so sorry! It’s nice to kind of meet you! Sorry you got stuck marrying my asshole cousin.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Solana moans, moving to bury her head into Roman’s chest before calling out with all awkwardness, “ummm, it’s n–nice to meet you too!”

“Tama teine, leave them alone! They might be making a baby!” And it just keeps going from bad to worse, Fetu adding on. “Keep the Samoan breeding kink tradition growing strong!”

“Uso o le tinā! What do you know about breeding kinks?” Solana is certain her face is tomato red. She’s never been so mortified. “Anyway, I’ll meet you later, Solana. And Roman, fuck you.”

He rolls his eyes, Solana waiting until she hears the footsteps vanish and melt into silence to speak again. “I can’t believe that happened.” Something said, however, triggers a thought for her. The breeding kink comment, specifically. “Roman….should we….should we use protection or something?” He looks confused, prompting her to explain. “I don’t—I don’t want you feeling pressured. I want a baby, but I want to make sure you’re good first too.” She adds on, wanting him to know how sincere she is. “Or, I can get on birth control. I know it’s not really allowed, but—”

“You’re my wife, Solana.” He cuts her off, hand to her cheek. “I’m not using a condom, and you’re not getting on birth control.” She nervously licks her lips as he brushes his thumb over her cheek. “When it happens….it happens. Okay?”

She nods, eyes closing when he kisses her forehead. She goes to lay on his chest, Roman’s hand on the small of her back, gradually moving downward. A small, teasing smile grows on her face as she looks up at him. “Dinner is gonna be ready soon, Ro….”

He hums, smirking when she gasps at how he squeezes her ass. “My appetite’s not for that….” Solana giggles when he flips them, so he’s over her, her hands gliding down his chest. “It’s makeup sex, right?” His eyes are filled with lust, Solana moaning when he starts spreading her legs. “So, let’s continue to make up.”

--------

Translations:

“Déjame en paz! ¡Te odio!” = "Leave me alone! I hate you!"

“Aulelei oe…..” = "You're so beautiful."

"Pe e te fa'agaoioi pe ou te sasaina i fafo faamalama uma!" = "Either you move it, or I'll smash out the windows!"

"O ki o loo i luga o le matau ki. Aveese oe lava." = "The keys are on the hook. Move it yourself."

"Tama teine." = "Niece."

"Uso o le tinā!" = "Aunt."

[amourtoken]

yes PLEASE write about quinn knocking you up and also please never stop writing smut i feel FERAL

I got a couple asks about this so let me roll them all into one here yall are horny unhinged individuals together now

Quinn is unfortunately insanely susceptible to baby fever. He can't help himself, the thought of having a little extended family to provide for is sweet enough on its own but getting there is what he's really been focused on recently. He cannot clear his mind of the idea at all and it's starting to effect every aspect of his life. His thoughts are always frenzied and his brain fuzzy, he can barely focus on the ice and you constantly catch him zoned out and have to draw his attention back to you. What's he even thinking about?

This all started after he saw you interacting with some kids at a charity event. He didn't think it'd be a personal attack on his psyche to see you leaning down to their level so they felt more included while you chatted about your days or whatever random thoughts of theirs that sprung to mind. They all seemed so happy in your presence and you've always just naturally been great with kids so it's no surprise to you, but Quinn instantaneously fell victim to the infectious thought process of parenthood.

all he's thought about for days is how pretty you'd look pregnant and how good of a parent you'd be. Would your kids have your smile? Your eyes? Hopefully they had your sweet personality at the very least. You two could be the overly supportive cheesy hockey parents when your kid got a little older too, if they took after him and wanted to play. Quinn would fall down these hour long rabbit holes in his own mind of what your future would look like with an addition to the family and it was becoming more and more of a necessity every day.

Eventually it gets to a point where he can't fucking contain it anymore and he lets the idea slip while he's got you pinned to the mattress below him.

Quinn's fingers are holding your hips tight enough to bruise while he's buried inside you, panting praises and explicit compliments against your neck in rhythm with his thrusts. He can't get the image of you all pretty and pregnant out of his brain at all, the only thing keeping him from it is a thin latex and a question really. He didn't wanna ruin the moment but it was out of his control at this point, the need overtaking critical thinking skills.

"Fuck- please let me put a baby in you- shit- p-please- c-can't stop thinkin' about it- fuck i need it so bad...'m sorry-"

His voice sounded so broken, moans and whines cutting through his words against his will. You had no idea he felt this way and fuck you wish he'd said something sooner because you've been going through the same misery he has. For the same reason. The same exact event that permeated his peace with the idea of kids with you was the one that had you dizzy thinking about him being a dad. Safe to say your communication skills were lacking during this cause both of you were afraid to ask but now that you're on the same page? You're in for it.

You respond enthusiastically, nodding quickly and immediately pleading for him to do just that. Quinn's chest fluttered at your whined pleas and as much as it pained him to pull out in the moment it was definitely worth it to sink back into you raw. He wanted this to last forever but the way you felt so fucking warm and wet around him was ultimately his undoing, much to his own protest. He didn't wanna finish without dragging you along either, his thrusts fell out of rhythm as he snaked a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, trying his best to take you with him.

"Shit- you're gonna be so pretty- fuck- god I'm so fuckin' lucky-"

Your nails sunk into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, legs shaking as you tipped off the edge of your orgasm with a whine of his name. He almost immediately followed you, hands gripping behind your knees to fold you in half under him, allowing him to sink deeper than before. Quinn's vision blurred with black spots and his voice pitched up into whiney pleas as he filled you up, finally getting what's plagued him for fucking weeks now. Doesn't matter if this was the time that did it or not, he was dead set on fucking you full of his cum over and over and over until you got the results you both wanted (and then some extra for good measure ofc)

[userlando]

dark paradise — lando norris

lando norris x female!reader [1.6k] summary: it was no secret that alcohol made you and lando frisky. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, public sex, pwp. a/n: HELLO it's me again. I have a lot of lando feels and just needed to write it out. this is short and smutty, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!!

Your body hums, heart thrumming in your chest as you grip meaty shoulders with your hands and bring the man closer to you. It’s hot, humid even, the whole club reeking of washed out perfume, alcohol and sweat. It feels deprived almost, but you can’t bring yourself to care even an ounce because bright and blue eyes are staring right into your eyes; pupils blown and dark.

It’s foggy and the strobe lights make it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, the music so loud in your ears that it drowns out the rushing sound of blood. It becomes a little overwhelming when big and calloused hands find the sides of your thighs, drawing a path up, up, up until they meet the hemline of your dress.

You pant heavily, drawing air that he breathes with his mouth so close but so far from you. The very same lips you’re staring at pull into a slow smirk, like he knows what he’s doing, like he knows the effect he has on you and he does. It’s so hard to concentrate, thinking of nothing but the feel of his mouth against yours. You crave to taste them, to delve into his mouth and have him draw every last ounce of sanity from you. A form of surrender you're all too willing to act out.

But Lando has other plans, content with making you squirm where you’re standing, two of his fingers finding their way up your dress and drawing slow and tantalising circles on the skin of your inner thigh. His eyes never leave yours, watching your every move and twitch as he nudges the edge of your panties. You can almost see what he's thinking, how he yearns to have you home in your bed with your back on the mattress and your legs caging his head.

He doesn’t slip inside, just touches the hem of the fabric, running the pads of his fingers so achingly close to where you need them most.

You huff out a breath of frustration, gaze straying from his face to somewhere behind him where the throng of people are dancing in their own world, like yours isn't spinning out of control. Lando’s fingers stop their teasing movement, making his dislike of your wandering eyes known by tutting and bringing his other unoccupied hand up to grab your chin.

The way he turns your head makes you whine, eyes watering a little and he grins because he loves how needy alcohol makes you. You’re not even drunk, having taken only two shots at the beginning of the night and nursing a strawberry mojito to keep that buzz going.

It hadn’t been hard to work you up into a frenzied mess, sharing a few dances with you and whispering some filthy words in your ears before you were dragging him into a remote and dark corner and licking into his mouth.

He looked into your eyes, watched how the frown marring your eyebrows deepened when he slipped a finger inside your underwear and he nudges your clit. It never got old, seeing the look of absolute pleasure blanket your face so easily, your pretty mouth so wet with saliva and inviting that he wanted nothing more than to bring you to your knees and slip his cock into your greedy mouth.

You let out a shuddered breath through your nose, eyelids fluttering shut for only a second before Lando’s hand tightened its hold on your chin. Just hard enough for you to take it as a warning, eyes opening right back up to look at him through hooded lids.

He rewarded you by sliding a second finger into the fabric of your panties, bringing the digits down to your hole to coat them in your slick and up, rubbing small and tight circles onto your clit just how he knew you liked it.

You whined, high and needy, feeling your knees buckle a little at the perfect pressure of his thumb. Lando licked his lips, taking a step forward and forcing you further up the wall; putting more pressure in his fingers and keeping you from teetering to the side.

It was like fire licking up your spine, toes tingling in a way that was definitely not from them going numb for being squeezed into your high heels for hours. Any other day and you would’ve probably been more sensible, more aware of your surroundings and that it only took one person to look your way to know what the two of you were up to.

But today wasn’t that day. It had been a successful race weekend in Monaco and the entire grid had gone out to celebrate. Lando had even found himself behind the DJ booth again, spirits so high that you couldn’t help but give in to everything he did and said.

It was no surprise that alcohol made you both a little frisky, it was a running joke between your friends at this point. A few drinks and you both would find yourselves wrapped up in each other, forgetting about the outside world.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, linking your hands into his hair to bring him closer to you so you could reach his lips. Lando went easily, hand sliding from your chin to your throat, resting it there as you opened up to him; allowing him to kiss you as he pleased.

It was filthy, how he slipped his fingers inside of you just to hear and feel you moan into his mouth, bringing a thumb to play with your clit until you were sucking on his tongue. He tasted of the aperol spritz he’d downed earlier, so intoxicating and sweet that you found yourself craving for more.

You made a sound of protest in your throat when he pulled back, kissing up your jawline before he rested his head against the side of yours. His breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“You look so pretty with my fingers inside of you.” There was a husk to his voice that made you grip his hair tighter, rolling your body up and into his hand between your legs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You echoed his word, dazed and shaking.

His fingers were sinful, playing you like a fiddle with such a practiced ease that it should’ve been illegal.

“Dripping down my hand.” He let out a laugh and you keened.

His face moved against your ear and you could just picture the shit-eating grin on his face, how fucking cocky he looked because he had done that. He’d successfully rendered you into a mess.

“F-fuck.” Your voice hitched when the pressure in your belly started to build, clenching around the fingers inside you.

It didn’t deter him though, only made him work a little faster when you dug your fingers into his hair and pulled. A throaty moan sounded in your ear and it was so erotic that your knees almost buckled.

“Lando.” You didn’t need to say any more.

“I know baby, I know.” He turned his head so he could see your side profile, watching your mouth gap open and closed as you struggled to find words. “Louder, baby. Let me hear you.”

White light exploded behind your eyelids as you squeezed them shut, bucking your hips as the rubber band got pulled so taut that it finally snapped. You came with a wail of his name, drowned out by the pulsing music in the club but Lando heard it loud and clear.

He could feel you squeezing his fingers, hole fluttering when you started to come down from your high. You whimpered when his thumb on your sensitive clit became too much, reaching a hand out to slap at his arm in a poor attempt to make him stop.

Lando pressed a chaste kiss against the column of your sweaty throat, relishing in the breathy whine you let out when he pulled his fingers away. Your throat bobbed under his lips as you swallowed, letting him right your underwear and pat down your dress - like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't rocked your world three ways to Sunday.

“You look so beautiful, baby.” He complimented you sweetly, pushing himself upright to smile at you. “Came so prettily on my fingers.”

Heat spread onto your cheeks as you regarded his eyes, blown out pupils and the redness on the apples of his cheeks. Lando was clearly turned on and you knew that it was only a matter of time before he called it a night and took the both of you home.

You didn’t mind though, you were ready to leave this place.

Lando brought the hand that had been inside you up between you, slipping two wet fingers into his mouth to suck on them and you covered your face with your hands at the obscene show he was putting on. His laughter reached your ears and you shook your head, peeking at him from between your fingers.

“You’re unbelievable.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the grin on his face.

“Yeah, maybe.” He placed two hands on either side of your hips to draw you into him. The hard plane of his body against yours felt a lot like home, and you welcomed the feeling with open arms. “But you love me.”

Your teeth found your bottom lip, holding back a smile.

“I really do.” You nodded, reaching a hand up to thumb at his lower lip. “I’d love you even more if you took us home.”

[revelboo]

Your ongoing Starscream thing is SO GOOD literally you write his inner conflict so well. Chefs kiss. I desperately crave a happy ending, but for now I’m content to see the sadness drag on.

Also, reader has friends (sort of?) now! Yay! Kinda wanna make low effort art of the cassettes showing Starscream a shitty PowerPoint presentation about how humans are sentient hmm. It’s written in cybertronian comic sans and has all the animation effects between slides

Thanks! Go for it, cause that sounds awesome 😆 And yes, reader now has friends/ terrible influences that are most likely, definitely, going to get them in trouble.

Everything is Alright pt 16

Starscream x Reader-unraveling

• Starscream’s only dimly aware of his fellow Decepticons moving out of his way as he stalks the halls. Of the looks. Those might be because his weapons are charged and humming or the rictus of a smile stretching his lips in a denta baring snarl. Let them be afraid. Whoever has stolen from him certainly will be before it’s over. He’s coming apart at the seams, held together with hatred and fear.

• Apparently word that he’s on the war path is spreading. The deeper he moves into the warren of halls and corridors, the fewer Decepticons he’s seeing. And the more unstable he feels. He’s walking a thin line now, processor snarling with scenarios custom designed just to hurt him. Teetering between fury and crippling anxiety, his wings are the only thing giving away the latter. That stupid tremor he can’t stop or control.

• There ahead. Voices. Soundwave’s cassettes? Lazerbeak swoops out of a hall leading the little group of miscreants, but it’s Frenzy his optics land on. The cassetticon’s hand firmly wrapped around a fragile little wrist to pull you along with him and the others as they run. It’s the smile on your face that freezes the energon coursing through him. You’re not only smiling, you’re laughing. Had your expression ever been that open and warm for him?

• Stopping suddenly in front of you without warning, you smack right into Frenzy’s back with a yelp. You shove away from him angrily and realize all the cassettes are still. Quiet. Skin crawling, you turn to see what’s got them on alert and- oh. Starscream. And he looks furious. Your breath catches as you just stare at him, a rabbit confronted with a hungry coyote. Common sense is screaming to run, because that anger is aimed right at you, but your body isn’t on board with the plan.

• And then Frenzy’s hand lands in the middle of your back. “Sorry, squishy,” he says, shoving you toward the Seeker as he and the other cassettes just bail. Abandoning you to Starscream. You stumble forward and fall down, palms and knees smacking the hard, metal floor. You keep your head down as he stalks forward, feeling the faint vibration of his steps. Then he’s just standing there over you. Intimidating and furious, and you can’t make a sound. Can barely breathe.

• You still won’t look at him and it’s twisting inside him into a seething miasma of confused anger. He wants to lash out, but doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s alone. You’re his. You hate him. He needs you anyway. Venting roughly, he kneels to carefully curl his servos around your unresisting form to lift you. You’re trembling and that fear unravels him faster as he cradles you to his chassis and heads back to his quarters, denta grinding.

• Why isn’t he yelling? Almost afraid to move in his careful but firm grip, you risk a glance up at his face. There’s definitely going to be yelling, his denta are bared in a grimace as he walks. He doesn’t look at you, though and that just makes you feel more jittery with anxiety. Had you finally pushed him too far? That dark, furious silence smothers you as you shiver in his grip.

• He carries you to the berth, his servos flexing around you. Tightening. And that kicks the panic into high gear, because you’re not sure what he’s going to do. Gasping, you go wild twisting and clawing to get free. Anything but be crushed. “Stop,” he growls, that furious edge just making you more frantic. “I said stop.”

• “Please stop.” That breaches the panic, those angry and so tired words. A request not a demand as he presses you to his chassis alongside his canopy and you can suddenly breathe again. Can feel the barely there tremor in his servos. “I thought you were gone.”

• Cheek pressed against his canopy, you crane your neck to try and see his expression, because this is new. Raw and painful and you need to see his face. It almost sounds like he does care. That you’re not just a pet or a possession. Something more even if you have no idea in what way. His palm shifts against you, keeping you pinned and unable to really see his face as he lets his head fall back against the wall the berth is against. You can hear him venting, that rough rhythm slowly evening out. Calming and you can’t hold onto your own anger at him, can feel it slipping through your fingers, because as awful as he sometimes is, he needs you. You don’t really understand it, but you do understand that you’re as trapped by whatever this is as he is.

• His venting hitches as you lay a tiny, soft palm against his canopy. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words are soft. And even if they might be a lie, he needs them. He needs this even if it can only hurt him.

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[chwocolatte]

♪ 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓫𝓸𝔂 𝄞♭♪ . .

yūta okkotsu x reader ﾉ sfw — domestic fluff ﾉ features a sweet doting reader . . (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝) ﾉ reader is admiring yūta’s handsum self ( a hundie percent warranted hehe ) ﾉ lottsa lottsa smoochies between reader ‘n yūta . . ﾉ ‘princess’ used as a petname tew refer tew reader ﾉ vrrie yumeshippie coded ‘n self indulgent . .

ohhhh . . . nu words cld ﾉ possibly ﾉ b adequate enough tew describe da sheer gorgeousness of yūta . . i did try m’ vrrie best but .ᐟ .ᐟ he is simply tew beautiful fwor mi tew paint wif jus words alone . . (⸝⸝⸝ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ⌑ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀⸝⸝⸝) doesnt he shine sho pwettily ⭐️ .ᐣ

twinkling like a thousand stars, your eyes shine with a brilliance that could rival the cosmos, the universe itself. you are captivated within his gaze, the pools of cerulean that peer into your own. they hold abundant affection, the adoration evident in the way he regards you, the ardour a tangible thing.

gazing upon his visage, it's easy to lose yourself in the ethereal beauty that is his features. they are sharp, chiselled to perfection, a masterpiece of the gods, an effigy carved from marble. how could anyone compare?

yuuta may be considered average to some, but to you, he is a paragon of celestial splendor. he's the epitome of beauty, the pinnacle of perfection. a small pinch of his essence could send the most stoic of individuals into a frenzy, their minds clouded with the fervour that is him.

to put it simply, the young man is an angel in your eyes. an angel in every sense of the word. the term 'beautiful' fails to encapsulate the full extent of his splendor, the magnitude of his radiance and the depth of his ethereality. but it's all you have to describe him, and so you use it anyway, the adjective a pitiful attempt at expressing the immensity of your devotion.

“beautiful…”

the whisper leaves your lips in a reverent breath, and the sound of it causes the young man to flush a lovely shade of red, the tinge rivalling the vermillion hue of a rose. a shy smile plays at the corners of his mouth, and his teeth are a flash of pearly white as he laughs bashfully. the sound is melodious, a symphony of harmonies that reverberates throughout the room, the tune a cacophony of bells and chimes.

the flush reaches the tips of his ears, and the colour bleeds down the column of his neck, the sight reminiscent of a summer sunset. you can't help but reach out, the desire to stroke his flesh an undeniable pull. and so you do. your digits graze the planes of his visage, the contact feather light and delicate, a whisper against his skin. a lean in to your touch, a pause, a deep breath, and then…

he sighs contentedly, his eyes fluttering shut, the lids a curtain that shrouds his irises— twin windows to his soul. he leans further into your palm now, his profile nuzzling your hand, the gesture tender, loving. a silent plea for more.

and who are you to deny him?

mapping out the contours of his face, you commit each feature to memory, snapshots of him immortalised in your mind.

soft like a dream, his complexion is smooth beneath your fingertips, the texture akin to satin, the skin a silken sheet. his lashes are dark and full, a lush canopy of sable strands that fan out prettily, a feathered brushstrokes against his cheeks. they tickle you— oh, but not as much as the faint cupid’s bow that swiftly steals a kiss from your fingers does, a chaste peck that has you giggling like a fool. the sensation is fleeting, yet the effect lingers, leaving the pair of you smiling fondly.

it's a moment so intimate, the pair of you cocooned within a bubble of your own making, the rest of the world fading into obscurity that a part of you wishes to preserve it. to freeze time, to capture this precious fragment of life and etch it into your soul.

simple, yet exquisite, memories such as these are worth their weight in gold. they're treasures, and you want nothing more than to hoard them, to stow them away in the recesses of your mind, a gallery of cherished remembrances.

with a gentleness that speaks volumes of your feelings, your fingers dance until they meet their destination, the pad of your thumb brushing against his plump lower lip.

the flesh is velvety and inviting, and you can't resist the temptation. you give in, and, with a slight nudge, part his lips, your thumb slipping into the crevice, a small breach, before standing on your tippy toes, feet rising to meet him.

the miniscule space between the pair of you closes, and your breaths mingle, the air shared between your bodies, the heat radiating off of his person and seeping into your own. your nose is a hairsbreadth away from his own, the distance almost non-existent. and, in a moment so quiet and fragile, the tension so palpable it could be slit with a knife, you share a breath.

one, two, three… the beats pass in a pregnant pause. then, with a swiftness that belies his previous timidity, yuuta swoops down, taking your mouth into his.

confectionery sweet and sugar coated, the kiss is a concoction of love and longing, a decadent delicacy you can't seem to get enough of. the taste of him is a nectarine bliss, the sensation a pleasure akin to none. so special, so unique, you doubt there could be anything in this world that could compare.

you indulge yourself, drinking your fill, savouring the flavour of your loved one, the ambrosial treat a luxury. it's a sweet surrender, the submission a mutual one, gooey strings of honeyed saliva connecting the pair of you when you pull away, your bodies clearly unwilling to part.

however, the need for air wins out, and you reluctantly withdraw, the loss keenly felt. a whine, high pitched and petulant, escapes your throat— a child's tantrum, albeit an admittedly justified one.

the separation is a temporary one, though, and you're quickly pacified when peppered across your face are a barrage of kisses, the sticky film of his saliva sweeping over your skin as if to paint a picture. his mouth is an artist's brush, the tip dexterous as it dabs a mélange of imaginary pigments upon your features.

the final kiss lands squarely on your nose, a dot. the finishing touch makes the button twitch, the appendage quivering with a tingle, and the sound that leaves you is an amalgamate of laughter and giggles.

the pair of you are a mess, your visages smeared with the evidence of your affections. and, by the heavens, do you love it. the attestation of his infatuation is a badge of honour, the smudgy slaver a token of his regard. you don't dare to wipe it away. rather, you wear it with pride.

who could blame you? surely not him, judging by the grin he sends your way.

so dazzling, the beam is blinding, the brightness of it akin to that of the sun itself. it's a sight you would die a thousand times to behold.

"you really are the most beautiful boy, yuu.." the compliment tumbles from your mouth unbidden, truthful and raw. your words are nothing but an echo of your thoughts, an unconscious murmur of the musings that occupy your headspace.

"not as beautiful as you are, princess.. not even close." his response is immediate, spoken with that simper of his, the curl of his lips so pretty and soft.

in preparation for a protest, your mouth opens, the objection ready on the tip of your tongue, but a single finger to your lips is all it takes to silence you. a pout forms at the contact, the expression a puerile pucker.

"let me love you." the plea is a soft thing. "let me love you like you deserve. let me love you.. like you love me." yuuta repeats, a quiet request. his tone is a beseeching, the desperation written clear as day across his countenance. it's an entreaty that melts the last dregs of resistance left in you.

so, with a nod, you acquiesce.

you hear a suspire of relief, and then you're swept into the arms of a boy so in love, he's willing to do anything to show you just how much. and as you're carried off into the depths of his heart, the place that's reserved only for you, a singular thought occurs: perhaps, just this once, you'll allow him the win.

for a boy as wonderful as him, there's no harm in giving him the upper hand, is there?

[cyberslvts]

DEPRIVED || w. maximoff

Summary: Following the events in Westview, wanda, obsessed and unhinged, becomes determined to get you back.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI smut, oral ( r recieving), enchanted strap (r recieving), blood, consumption of blood, pain kink, slight breeding kink, choking, marking, brief restraints, reader has lowkey lost it,

Pairing: Wanda maximoff x witch!reader

wc: 4.5k

note: Was in the halloween mood and had a craving to write witch reader. Also I apologize for being MIA for a hot minute school has been kicking my ass

In the dimly lit and clandestine lair, you stood amidst a chaotic array of potion bottles, spell books, and mystical artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of arcane ingredients, and the room was bathed in an eerie, pulsating glow emanating from enchanted crystals scattered about. Rows of tall, ancient shelves were lined with tomes containing secrets of the mystical arts.

Your eyes fixated on the ominous pages of the Darkhold stood at the center of the lair, your brows furrowed in concentration. The book seemed to emit an unsettling energy, its dark runes shifting and writhing like a sentient being. Your hands cradled glowing orbs of blue magic, feeling a tingling sensation of power coursing through them.

Your mind crackled with a frenzied electric charge. The relentless grip of sleep deprivation fuels your obsession. The effects of prolonged wakefulness gnawed at your sanity, leaving your thoughts frayed and disjointed. Muscles twitch uncontrollably as if charged by lightning flashing within your wide, bloodshot eyes. Your voice, barely a murmur, subconsciously reciting spells and rituals from the book's ancient pages, the words stumbling from your lips in a fevered trance.

Everything around you seemed louder and more intense than usual as if your senses were on overdrive. It was like your body was a sponge soaking up all the noise and energy in the room.

As you delved deeper into the forbidden knowledge within the Darkhold, a sudden disturbance rippled through the room. The sound of crackling energy filled the air, and a portal of swirling scarlet light materialized before You, Startled, you turned to face the unexpected intrusion.

Emerging from the portal, with a sultry and determined expression, was Wanda Maximoff. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, and she stepped forward with an air of confidence. Despite the anger that still simmered within you, Wanda's presence sent a shiver down their spine.

It felt like seeing a ghost

In the not-so-distant past, you and Wanda Maximoff had been deeply entwined in a passionate and tumultuous love affair Your connection was built on an understanding of each other's innermost desires.

You, a gifted witch in your own right, had always admired Wanda's incredible power. Your initial meeting had been marked by sparks, both figurative and literal, as you recognized kindred spirits in each other. You spent countless nights together, honing your magical skills, exploring the boundaries of your abilities, and indulging in the fiery lust filled passions that burned between you.

But as your love deepened, so did the complexity of your relationship.Wanda's insatiable thirst for power often put her on a dangerous path, seeking forbidden knowledge that few could comprehend. It was during one of her quests for dark magic that everything changed.In a moment of desperation, Wanda cast a spell that trapped you in a false reality—a twisted version of suburban life in Westview. In this artificial world, you lived a mundane existence, blissfully unaware of the magic and powers you once wielded. Your memories were altered, your true identity erased, and Wanda had complete control over your life

For you, it was a nightmare and a dream come true. You oscillated between feelings of betrayal and intense longing. The life she had created for you two was everything you could have ever dreamed of, filled with the perfect haven of your loving family

When the Westview Hex was eventually broken, and you regained your true identity and memories, the rush of emotions was overwhelming. You confronted Wanda, your anger, burned but the love you once shared still lingered beneath the surface. It was a complex and conflicted love, one that was impossible erase

Wanda, haunted by her actions and desperate to atone for her mistakes, fled to find the Darkhold—a powerful and dangerous book of magic that held the key to her quest for the power she would need to reclaim the life that was harshly taken from her.

In an attempt to divert Wanda until they built up the necessary forces to defeat her, Doctor Strange, aware of the dangers that the Darkhold posed, entrusted it to you for safekeeping, knowing that you were one of the few who could resist its seductive pull

At the sight of her, you immediately conjured the dark hold shut, the glowing hues of blue dimmed around you as you lowered yourself to the ground, standing before her.

"Y/n," Wanda purred, stepping out of the portal her voice husky and laced with desire.

Before she could get too close, you crossed your arms in front of your body and threw them outwards. A tendril of blue magic wrapped around her arms and legs, effectively freezing her movements. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" you demanded, your tone filled with anger.

Wanda smirked, Seemingly amused by your reaction. She could have easily overpowered you, but she wanted you to have your fun. She didn't want to scare you. Not yet, at least.

"Oh, Y/n," she grinned, her eyes never leaving yours. "How I've missed your fiery spirit.”

“You shouldn't be here.”

Wanda's expression grew more serious as she struggled against your magical bonds. "I need the Darkhold, Y/n. It's the only way to undo the chaos I've caused."

Your grip on the magical restraints tightened,and you shot back, "Save your breath, Wanda. Me and you both know you have no intentions of doing that”

Wanda's eyes flashed with a hint of frustration “You’re always so stubborn”

The room crackled with tension as the truth hung in the air. Both of you were harboring secrets, aware of each other's desires and motives

You stepped closer to her your fingers twisting in the air to hold the restraint “I won't ask again, why are you here.”

“I needed to see you” she confessed, her voice husky, her gaze never wavering from yours.

You broke out into a sarcastic smile, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you shook your head in disbelief. The madness that swirled between you and Wanda had reached a fever pitch, and it was clear that this reunion would only further entangle you both in the web of chaos that defined your complex relationship.

“You didn't seem so eager to see me when you left me in Westview” Your voice came out sharper then you intended. obviously still hurt from her actions. The way she had left you was awful. Alone, surrounded by ring of flashing red and blue lights that demanded answers to questions you couldnt even comprehend

Wanda let out an exasperated sigh a sense of guilt building up inside her “I had no other choice y/n. Strange was after me and You would have never gone with me”

The soft flicker of candlelight casted an eerie, shadow on Wanda's face, accentuating the mysterious allure that always seemed to surround her. Her eyes, partially obscured by the dim light, bore into you with a mix of longing and lust. You couldn't help but notice how her figure looked in the low light – the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the seductive curve of her lips as they formed that infuriating smirk. The undeniable attraction that pulsed between you two was like a magnetic force, drawing you together. It was a desire that both thrilled and repulsed you.

“Because you trapped me, you stole my life!” you echoed with a sardonic laugh, your voice tinged with a hint of hysteria. the memories of your past experiences with Wanda had driven you into a state of rage and paranoia, endless days and night spent waiting for her return

“It was the only way to protect you,” she argued back, her conviction unwavering, convinced that she had done what was necessary to shield you from the dangers of the outside world.

Your eye twitched with rage as you denied her allegations vehemently. "You're delusional Wanda, You just wanted to control me.”

Her head dropped to the floor, and her shoulders shook as she let out a menacing chuckle. When her eyes returned to you, they were three times darker, and the room itself seemed to respond to her shifting presence as if the shadows deepened around her

"When will you understand," she whispered, her voice now dripping with an eerie, otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if she had tapped into something primal and ancient, a power beyond comprehension.

"I would kill for you, Y/n," her words took on an ominous weight, the air growing heavy with her declaration. "I would rip myself to pieces if it meant keeping you safe," she continued, her breathing growing heavier, each word laced with an intensity that seemed to vibrate through the very walls of the room

Her grin widened, taking on an unsettling edge as if she could see right through you, right into the depths of your soul. The intensity of her gaze was suffocating, and it terrified you to your core.

"And you fucking love that," she hissed, her eyes glinting with a manic fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. “It excites you.”

"Shut up!" You couldn't contain your frustration any longer. With a surge of power, a flash of brilliant blue lit up the room as the magical restraints around Wanda tightened. She gritted her teeth, and a prominent vein bulged on her neck, her struggle against the sudden and intense pressure evident in her clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

"Well, someone has certainly been doing their homework," a deranged expression of pain and excitement glowed on her face. "I wasn't sure how far along you had gotten in the Darkhold, but my god..."

"Oh, for the love of God," you muttered through clenched teeth, your jaw tightening in frustration. as you struggled to maintain your composure in the face of her unsettling revelations. "What kind of deluded fantasies have you come up with now?"

The room seemed to hum with tension, The past and the present collided, and the lines between reality and the pull of the Darkhold blurred your thoughts into a red haze.

"I can feel it. The darkness you've been studying. It's consuming you, just like it did me." The switch in her tone made your blood run cold. Her eyes locked onto yours, searching for a reaction "I've been watching you, Y/n."

For months, Wanda had been studying you, watching you from the shadows, watching your obsession grow with every passing day. She had guided you, manipulated events, all with the intent of drawing you into the same darkness that had overtaken her. But she had to be patient, allowing you to come to it on your own, letting the seductive pull of corruption work its magic until you were entangled in its irresistible web.

“You weren't supposed to read the darkhold, you were only supposed to watch over it” Her voice dripped with a sultry and unhinged desire as she taunted you. “You’re no better than me.”

The consuming darkness of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, as you recalled the ghastly events of the past few months. At first, you only started studying the Darkhold for research purposes, perhaps trying to understand Wanda, to fathom why she did the things she did. And yet, in the depths of your mind, the Darkhold's whispers grew louder, its promises of untold power and the allure of the forbidden knowledge beginning to take hold. The more you studied it, the more it consumed your thoughts, leaving you with an insatiable hunger for its secrets.

While you were lost in the sea of memories, a beam of red magic shot past the corner of your eye, and before you knew it, you were sent tumbling back to your feet.

You stumbled backward, Adrenaline beginning to course through your veins. Wanda advanced on you with an unsettling mixture of hunger and madness. She threw her head back, and a loud cackle echoed in the room. "Isn't it exhilarating! The power, the temptation. It's irresistible!"

As Wanda closed in on you, you couldn't deny the odd thrill that surged through you. Her presence was overwhelming and a part of you couldn't help but be endlessley drawn to her.

“You're sick.” you spat out, backing away until your back hit your desk. “You’re fucking sick!”

“Sick with love,” she returned with a hint of seductive playfulness

You turned away from her, your hands anchored to the edge of your desk, your shoulders rising to your ears as you tried to fathom how you ended up here, in this twisted dance with the woman who was once the center of your world. The woman who you spent months missing, nights filled with aching longing and days spent wondering where she was, if she was dead or alive.

“Dont you remember our life together” Her tone was soft and convincing “How nice it was”

She came up behind you, her arms wrapping around you, and she smiled when she didn't feel you push them away.

Painful flashes of your memories in Westview flooded into your mind. You remembered your two boys, whom you were equally bonded to. You remembered the endless movie nights and family dinners, waking up and falling asleep next to Wanda every day had become a feeling you grew accustomed to. Those memories were a bittersweet reminder of the life you had shared before everything went awry, and they added to the torment of your current situation.

You remembered how safe and loved you had felt. But it wasn't real. None of it was real. You had told yourself that countless times—nights when everything was too quiet, and the familiar suffocating feeling of loneliness threatened to consume you. You ached to be back in Westview, with your family. But most of all, you yearned to be with Wanda. the memories of what you had shared weighed heavily on your heart.

“I know who you are Y/N,” You could feel her breath against your neck as her hands rubbed mindless patterns down your stomach. “I know what you crave”

A surge of anger suddenly lit up inside you, furious about how she made you feel. Angry that you had spent months alone, going insane with paranoia and the uncertainty of where she was in the world, Angry that she imprisoned you, controlled you, manipulated you. And you liked it. You loved the fire between you, the intense and deranged connection that bound you together. After all of that, she remained the one person who understood you best, the one who endlessly craved and longed for you.

You suddenly spun around and gripped onto the leather edge of her suit dragging her down until her lips roughly met yours.

Wanda's response was immediate, her hunger for you matching your own. Her arms enveloped you, pulling you up until your legs wrapped around her. Her strides were long across the room trying to find the closest surface to hold you up against.

She pressed you against the oak of your bookcase, and you let out a whimper against her lips when you felt the painful bite of your spell book spines digging into your back.

Wanda took attention to this and used her magic to smoothly fuse through the bookcase and into the privacy of your bedroom. Her determination to be with you becoming increasingly evident. She tossed you onto the bed and crawled over you, reconnecting your lips into a searing kiss.

Her tongue wrestled with yours untill you were moaning into each other's mouths. With one hand holding herself up the other slid up and down your thigh, Warm and possessive. With an expert touch, Her lips moved down to your neck, where she immediately began nipping at that spot she knew you loved so much.

Your breaths were starting to become uneven and you through an arm over her neck, Wanting to be closer to her. You felt Wanda smile into your skin, reveling in your neediness

She conjured away the rest of your clothes, leaving you fully exposed infront of her longing gaze. Your body shivered when the textured leather of Wandas suit rubbed up against you, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Lowering herself down, she pressed her lips to one of your erect nipples, envelopong it in a sensual kiss. Her mouth then tenderly sucked on the sensitive bud while her fingers skillfuklly squeezed and pinched the other. She glanced up at you, her eyes filled with satisfaction as she took in the sight of your blissful expression, eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slightly parted, completely lost in the pleasure she was giving you.

“I want to taste you” she mumbled against your skin, Descending down the mattress, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your stomach. She kneeled in front of the bed and roughly pulled your legs until they were hanging off.

You could feel her breath on your pussy as she kissed everywhere, purposefully missing the one place you needed it the most.

She gently slide a finger into your hole and let out a low groan when she felt your wet walls immediately suck her in further.

“Still so responsive... you really are mine, aren’t you baby?” she mumbled in between kisses to your thighs, when you didn't respond she nipped at your skin.

“I will never be yours again” your breathed out, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took in

Something twisted inside Wanda at your words and a dark expression overcame her features as her grip on your thighs involuntarily tightened.

“Well see how you feel after this, pretty girl”

The pet's name is spat out like a curse. But you don't miss the way her tongue rolls over the words like she meant it. Like she actually thinks you are pretty. And so, despite the situation your cheeks burn red, and your heart hammers in your chest.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before you felt her roughly slide two fingers into your dripping hole, immediately curling and hitting your sweet spot. A satisfied grin formed on Wanda's face as she watched your head fall back in pleasure.

Unable to wait any longer She dropped her head and replaced her fingers with her tongue, moaning at the taste of you. You glanced down and felt your pussy clench at the erotic sight of Wanda stuffed between your legs.

She opened her mouth wide and immersed her tongue as deep as it could go. Swirling and twisting in all the right places. It had been so long, Too long since she had gotten to taste her girl, the urgency and desperation became evident when she started lapping at you like a ravenous creature.

A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the metal points of her crown pressed into the tender flesh of your thighs. You instinctively squirmed and writhed in an attempt to escape the painful sensation

She only tightened her hold on your thighs keeping them secured to her shoulders “Stay still," she commanded, her voice dripping with desire. "I'm not done yet.”

Your response was reduced to a mere whimper as an overwhelming sensation engulfed you. All of your nerves felt like they were on fire. You couldn't even form a coherent sentence. It all felt too good.

You felt your orgasm build embarrassingly fast, the tight coil in your stomach winding even tighter. It had been an eternity since someone had touched you this expertly—no one living up to the lofty standards Wanda had set.

Her tongue dipped into you and then dragged along your slit until it reached your clit, where she relentlessley started sucking on the hardened bud. Your moans echoed throughout the room As you began to mindlessly grind up into her mouth.

Every roll of your hips sent the sharp material of the crown deeper into your skin. Your mind began to feel fuzzy as it fell into a haze of overwhelming pleasure. Wanda was drunk off the sight of you right now. Fucked-out and completely at her mercy. Her chin was coated in your slick as she shamelessly devoured you.

Her eyes were glued onto your body, taking in the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure, your limbs squirming under her, watching you struggle to fight of your orgasm only encouraged her to go faster.

She pressed her face further into your core. A crimson streak of blood trickled down your thighs and onto her crown. Mingling with your arousal.

“Cum for me baby,” she commanded with a throaty groan, her fingers digging into your thighs. “show me that you’re mine”

You let out a loud moan and your hands flew to the sides of her head, Tangling into the mess of frayed red hair, Wanda's own moans harmonized with vibrations coursing through you, heightening the intensity of your orgasm.

Your hips slowed their pace as the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving your body pulsating with the aftermath of your climax. Breathing heavily, you propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyes fixated on Wanda who was undeniably captivated by the streams of blood tracing their way down your thigh.

A sinister smirk curved your lips as you taunted “You twisted bitch, you love it when I bleed for you”

Wanda responded with a chilling expression. Without breaking eye contact, She re-wrapped her arm around you. Her fingers possessively digging into your skin. She dragged her tongue over the cut, savoring the metallic taste

Your eyes fluttered shut, The gentle warmth of Wanda's tongue soothed the irritated burn, providing a small measure of comfort. As she rose from between your legs her hand found your throat, gripping it with a firm hold that demanded your attention.

Your eyes reluctantly reopened to meet Wanda's intense gaze. Her lips captured yours in a demanding kiss, and the lingering taste of blood mixed with your arousal coated your taste buds. It was a heady mixture that left you feeling undeniably dirty yet strangely exhilarated.

“You belong to me,” she whispered against your lips, her hand still wrapped around your throat. “You are mine to touch, to pleasure, to mark. Don't you ever forget that.”

You smiled and bit your lip, amused by her sudden possessiveness. Using her magic, she removed the rest of her clothes and waved her hand in front of her hips until a long scarlet dildo attached to a black harness reappeared.

You bit into your lip harder as recognition washed over you. It was your favorite toy, the one that allowed Wanda to intimately feel every inch of your throbbing pussy. You felt yourself clench, Anticipation coursing through your veins.

Still hovering over you, She held the base of the strap and dragged the tip along your slit a low groan emitting from both of your mouths at the contact. You began to grow impatient, arching yourself up as you watched her tease herself.

She finally pushed herself into you, and an unrestrained moan escaped her parted lips as she savored the exquisite sensation of your snug, velvety walls enveloping her. She stilled herself for a moment, allowing you to gradually adjust to the fullness.

“I missed your pussy so much” she groaned out, coming down to press her chest against yours as her hips began to rock into you. The toy curves up and and slides against your insides in the most perfect way, she’s nearly halfway in and you clamp down on her.

“Fuck, you're squeezing me so good.” Wanda leans closer to you, inhaling your scent as one of her hands grips your thigh. She pulls the toy out until just the tip remains inside before roughly snaping her hips forward. You loudly moaned into her ear, digging your nails into her back.

“Harder” you whined, wrapping your legs around her waist and pressing your heels into her back, edging her in deeper. “Please, wanda”

She grinned and started pounding into you harder. Pushing her cock in as deep as it could go. “I knew you were still my slut.”

You could only respond with a breathless call of her name. She further pushes your body into the mattress making you feel even smaller as her strap rams into your pussy. you grip onto her tighter and your moans float all throughout the room, they bounce around the walls and come slamming back into your own ears.

“Yeah, you like being called what you are? Because you're my slut. Mine” Her movements are becoming erratic. The mattress squeaks under you and your headboard slams into the wall with every forceful thrust of her hips. “im never letting you slip away again.”

Your hands claw deep red streaks across her back that move with every flex of her muscles. Her hand grip your ass, grinding you onto her cock as her thrusts begin to lose their rhythem.

She thrusts at an angle that has you seeing white light. Your whole body shook as your orgasm crashed over you. Every nerve was sent into overdrive, no feeling could ever compare to this. Being under Wanda, your limbs tightly bound to her as you fell apart on her cock. It all felt so right

“Fuck, oh fuck, You're gonna make me cum” she grunted, shoving her face into your neck. As she chased her high, tortured with the need to release into your wet heat “Gonna fill this pussy up so good-Fuck!”

Her hips roll into you until she is fully submerged in your pussy. Loud moans and whines fill your ears as you feel thick ropes of her cum paint your insides, filling you to the brim until it splatters on the insides of your thighs. Her hips are still fucking into you and your cunt wraps around her cock pulling her in further.

After she rides out the last bits of her high, her body collapses onto you, pressing you into the mattress. You feel her shaky sighs against your neck, and her body slowly relaxes as you soothingly run your hands through her hair. Just when you think she might have fallen asleep, she abruptly leans up to look down at you.

“You're a fucking nightmare.” you breathlessly whisper

She responds by kissing your lips, her love and obsession intermingling in that stolen moment. You can't help but return the kiss with the same feverish fervor, wrapping your arms around her neck and arching into her.

This new side of you excited wanda to exhilarating heights. Even in the early stages of your relationship, you had always embraced your darker nature, and it was one of the things that had initially drawn her to you, but this newfound level of intensity made her pulse with excitement about your future together, the things you'd do together, the things you'd learn, all the things she would teach you.

You were just so perfect for her, you had always been, and In your bones, you knew you could never be without wanda, it was as if the two of you were eternally connected at your very core.

A smile stretched across your face as she gazed into your eyes. It was clear that your journey into the depths of darkness was far from over.