#All Day and a Night fanfiction

[megamindsecretlair]

Call Out My Name

Pairing: Businessman!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, stranger sex, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing, cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. D/s lite. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: At a work conference, your boring coworkers want to continue hanging out. Needing your alone time, you head to the hotel bar for a quick drink before you headed upstairs. But when a gorgeous stranger buys your drink, it entices you to do something you’d never done before. Be bold. 

Word Count: 5,426k

AO3 Link

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @westside-rot. I have not been able to stop thinking about businessman Stunna all day. Welp, here we are LOL. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @00aijia00 @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @monaeesstuff @amethyst09 @harmshake @satoruya @theunsweetenedtruth @ciaqui @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby

Your coworkers spilled out of the conference room in a fit of laughter. Your laugh sounded so fake, even to your ears, but your coworkers were none the wiser. They stated that they wanted to keep the party going and go out for drinks and a later dinner.

Ugh. Spare you. It was bad enough being stuck in a hot ass conference room with these people but it was even worse that they wanted to keep going. It was past nine o’clock and you couldn’t stomach them for one second longer.

Usually, you did these conferences by yourself. You volunteered for the position for free travel and the chance to step out of your shoes for a minute. These people didn’t know you. It was a chance to ease the burdens of your life. But this was a bigger conference, so your boss let the four of you go.

“I’m actually so tired,” you said and heaved a yawn, stretching it out to really look convincing. “I couldn’t stay awake if I tried!”

“Oh, come on! You’re such an old lady!” One of your coworkers, Shane, said and shook his auburn hair. 

“Hey! It takes a routine to look this good at my age,” you said and pointed to yourself and your cream and brown outfit. Your coworkers laughed, waving goodbye, with final pleas to go ahead and join them. God, no thanks. 

You headed towards the hotel bar, feeling that much lighter just from getting rid of their energy. More people needed to appreciate a little quiet and solitude. Entering the hotel bar, your heels clicked on the faux wood as you looked around. It had a nostalgic sort of vibe, with soft neon light, wooden tables, and a TV playing in the corner. 

It was perfect. It looked like the type of place where everyone minded their own fucking business. You walked over to the bar, planting your brown jacket and purse on the seat to your left. You caught the bartender’s attention and ordered your favorite drink. 

As you waited for him to make it, you pulled out your phone and scrolled to your current favorite fanfic on Tumblr. You just needed a good drink and some alone time in the hotel room. You could almost feel the cool air on your skin as you sat and relaxed with good writing. 

The bartender slid your glass into your line of sight. You mumbled a thanks and pulled out your wallet.

“It’s been taken care of,” he said. 

You finally look up, puzzled, because who the hell would do that? The bartender tilted his head to your right. You turned, looking into the face of a god. It took all your willpower not to drop your draw and ogle him.

You licked your lips to give you time to stall, because goddamn. You were suddenly too aware of your heartbeat thumping in your chest and down below. You didn’t think people could have physical reactions to real life people and yet here you were.

You grabbed the drink and lifted it in a silent thanks to the mystery man. He nursed his own drink, glass barely filled with a dark, amber liquid. He pointed to the seat next to you and you hoped you didn’t look too desperate by nodding your head. 

He got off of the stool and damn. He was fine as hell. He was taller than you, impossibly tall, with long legs and decked out in a burgundy suit with a dark gray shirt, tie slightly askew from around his neck. The top button was undone, showing off a chiseled chest. 

You watched as he sauntered over and sat one seat away from you. Close enough to converse while still giving you some space. You were really starting to like him. 

He smiled and introduced himself. “But most people call me Stunna,” he said and smirked like he admired how silly that was. 

“Dare I ask why?” You asked.

“He shrugged. Something that stuck around since high school. You wear one shiny outfit and everybody’s a clown all of a sudden,” he said. 

You laughed, shaking your head and taking a sip of your drink. “You did not!” 

Stunna laughed, showing a radiant smile that completely transformed his face. He was stunning before, but he smiled like the first break of dawn across the horizon. Now you understood why they called him Stunna. 

“I promise I did. Although I burned all the evidence because no one needed to keep that around,” he said.

Conversation flowed easily with him. You told him your name and why you were at the conference. He told you all about his modest gaming company. Modest. You gushed all over the games that he produced, sharing your joy over the games that meant so much to you.

“There’s no way you really play,” he said. 

You nodded. “Believe it. Night and Sky? I cried by the time I finished and then played it fifty thousand more times,” you said.

Stunna laughed and shook his head. “You have no idea how much this means to me. It’s good to hear something good about my work every once in a while,” he said. 

Since you had that Stunna in front of you, you had thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Still, you persevered, rapidly asking him questions. Bless him, he answered every single one. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m no better than the people in the audience,” you said. You slapped your hands to your cheeks, feeling utterly mortified. You wished the soft, dark wood of the bar would swallow you whole. You instantly regretted nerding out all over a stranger, all over Stunna of all people. 

Stunna laughed. “I promise, you’re all good,” he said. When you shook your head, he chuckled again. Oh his voice was deep like chocolate and as savory as coffee. You just wanted to take a deep dive into it and never look back. 

And his eye contact was insane. You often had to look away from him, body heating in all the right ways from being under intense scrutiny. You waved your hand to dismiss his words or more like a visual cue to clear your mind from all of your racing, nasty thoughts. 

Maybe it was the long day. Maybe it had been too long since you were satisfied by something other than your fingers. But all you could think of was being bold. Warning signs and danger tones rang in your head as you thought of taking home a complete stranger. You watched enough TV to know that people never had the best intentions.

But hell. You were too willing to ignore all of that. You took in the cut of his suit, tailored, not off the rack. The flash of gold on his wrist from his huge watch. The long, thick fingers that you imagined wrapped around your throat.

And his lips. God, his lips. You wanted to get lost in those full lips. The way he spoke. The bite of hood to his tone to suggest that he wasn’t silver bred. The way that he absently stroked his teeth with his tongue. Was he doing it on purpose? To drive you completely mad? 

You saw his lips moving but swore that no sound came out. You weren’t drunk, just a little tipsy, so you couldn’t blame it on that. It was simply that you felt him. Was that weird? There was this connection getting built between the two of you, brick by brick, laugh by laugh. 

“I’m sorry?” You asked.

“I said, are you good?” He asked.

You nodded your head. So, so, so good. Your mind had a tendency to wander so you pulled it back in by looking at Stunna’s lips. It was just as distracting as his eyes but at least you didn’t get flustered looking at his lips. 

Conversation turned towards griping about the conference, finding camaraderie by complaining about the same things. The overpriced food, the stinky attendants, and the anxiety of it all getting up in front of a crowd. Still, there were good parts to being a nerd.

Bold. Bold. Bold. Your heart was thundering in your chest, beating rapidly, out of control. So fast, you felt it at the base of your throat. You took the final sip of your drink, letting the sweet burn travel down to warm your belly. Your pussy gave a little throb like she was encouraging you on, rooting to get fucked as much as you were. 

You stood up and grabbed your things. Stunna looked disappointed for a moment, smile dropping inch by inch. It felt cruel to tease him like this but you couldn’t help it. You dug in your purse and pulled out the spare keycard.

You usually carried one, but you were in a rush this morning and ended up bringing both. You slid it across the bar table as you walked closer to him.

He smelled amazing up close. Like wood smoke and fresh mountain air. You leaned in a little closer than you would normally dare, bringing your hand close to his. You tapped the keycard, pushing it under his palm.

“Why don’t you come meet me upstairs,” you said, not really phrasing it as a question. Stunna lifted an eyebrow, looking from the key card, to your eyes, to the low swoop of your cream dress. 

His eyes moved slowly back to yours, locked, a smile curving his lips. “That right?” He asked. 

You nodded, stepping closer. You put your hand on his forearm, leaning into his ear. “I like it nasty,” you whispered in his ear, ending it with a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

Stunna sighed, sealing it with a chuckle. You walked away, hoping you weren’t too forward, as you hurried to the elevator. You forgot to give him a time limit and wondered if he’d follow you too soon, not even giving you the chance to strip and entice him upon entrance.

You rode the elevator to your floor, anticipation thrumming in your veins at the prospect. There was a tiny bit of doubt. After all, he had plenty of reason to think it was a trap. Ill intentions knew no bounds. But you hoped. Hoped that he’d join you on this crazy idea in this random city and at this random graphic arts conference. 

The paisley flooring blended well with the pinkish brown walls, striped paneling along the bottom half giving it a subtle interesting look. There were lights covered in intricate bowls, illuminating your way to your room. 

Your hands shook as you opened your door, glancing behind you at the elevator doors. Was he on it now? Was he eager? Would he show? Fuck, you hoped so. You’d hate to have to take care of yourself tonight. It wouldn’t be the same. 

You closed the door, scurrying inside and flipping only the lamp light on. You pushed your suitcase out of the way, cleaned up lingering trash people tended to  accumulate in hotel rooms. You hurriedly locked away any valuables, your wallet and the like. Just in case. You could be a dumb bitch right now, but at least you weren’t completely lost. 

You took off your dress, hanging it up in the closet. You stood there in your cream lacy bra and panties, with little bows on the sides. You liked wearing sexy things. It made you feel confident and desirable. You kept your heels on and then sat down on your bed. 

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on your door. You gasped, wiping sweaty palms on your thick thighs as you got up and went to the door. The lock beeped, the mechanics whirring, as Stunna opened the door.

Seeing you standing here, posing, he stopped for a moment with a smile on his face. “Uh, damn,” he breathed, taking in your sexy form. You felt amazing under his gaze, reading the truth of his lust in his dark eyes. 

He still wore the burgundy suit and he had to turn to fit into your doorframe. Standing next to him, you did have to crane your head a bit, as you looked into his eyes. He bit his lip as he made a show of looking you up and down.

Everywhere he looked, you felt like a physical caress on your skin. You felt exposed even though you were covering the good bits. “Look at you looking so pretty. All of this for me?” He asked.

You nodded. “Don’t you know that you shouldn’t play with strangers?” He asked.

You grinned and shook your head. “I couldn’t help it,” you admitted. Shocked to find that it was the absolute truth. You truly couldn’t help it. You needed this man in the worst way. An ache burrowed into your core, leaving you feeling needy and desperate. 

He walked further into the room, taking one look around. He looked down, looking at your breasts and he licked his lips. “Get down on them knees,” he commanded.

You were on fire. Burning incessantly. Waves and waves of heat moving up and down your spine. You slowly got to your knees, bending down while looking him in the eyes. He smirked. “I’m clean, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to,” he said.

“I invited you up here, remember?” You asked. You fell completely to your knees, the plush carpet like heaven on your knees. 

“You can say stop at any time,” he said. 

Your teeth bit your bottom lip, kneel-walking closer to him. You looked up. You really had to crane your neck now. Your hands worked at his button and zipper, freeing the growing bulge between his legs. Your eyes widened. You knew that he’d be big but…he had an impressive dick print, filling out his dark briefs in the best way.

He had strong thighs, a dusting of hair on his legs. You pushed his pants down further, running your nails softly against his dick. He hissed, rolling his neck. “I can use my words,” you said. 

“That right? What else that mouth do then?” He took off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He loosened his tie more, unbuttoning the second button on his shirt, and then rolled up his sleeves. He revealed his forearms, strong powerful works of art. 

You grinned and buried your face in his bulge, running your nose across the thick length. His fingers caressed your forehead, cheek, and chin. You moved to push down his briefs, dragging down his thighs and salivating at the thought of fitting him in your mouth. 

You could feel your essence gathering between your thighs, pussy aching and throbbing, begging to be played with. His dick sprang free, bouncing, as it waved in your face. He was incredibly huge. How were you going to fit him all in? 

You’d have to use both hands to satisfy this man. You looked at him as you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Stunna grabbed his dick, tapping the tip against your tongue and moaning at the sight. 

You wrapped your lips around his length, suckling him down. He groaned, hands gripping the base of your neck and pulling you closer, taking him deeper. “Fuck, just like that. Get it nice and wet for your pussy,” he moaned.

You cried, picturing just that nasty image. You slobbered on him. Suckling and retreating, bobbing up and down, slurping and moaning. Hands massaging his shaft where your lips couldn’t reach. Stunna groaned as you sucked him off, grabbing a fistful of your braids. 

You cried, placing your hands on his thighs for leverage. It turned you on more and more, hearing his hisses and groans, knowing that he was fully clothed while you were not. He gripped your braids tighter, lifting an eyebrow at you.

You nodded, answering his silent question. Yes, you were alright. Yes, you were getting excited with the way he made sure you felt comfortable. Whatever this man wanted, you were willing to move heaven and earth to achieve it. 

“Fuck, this mouth is perfect. Damn girl, suck it like you own it. That’s all yours right there,” he moaned, encouraging you. You spat on his dick, suckling him back down. 

“You want it real nice and wet for that pussy, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded, gulping him down as far as you were able. 

Stunna jerked and twitched, abruptly pulling himself out of your mouth. You whined, leaning forward to try to suck him back in. “You keep doing that, I’ma bust,” he said and chuckled. 

“I want you to,” you said and pouted. You had no clue how he knew. How he knew what to say or how to treat you. How easy it was to surrender. No fight, no battle, no war to be won. You saw this man and you wanted. 

You wanted him in the worst way. And all it took was a little boldness on your part. A little shove in the right direction. A little clear and decisive action. Sliding your keycard to him was the wildest thing ever. Stuff of stories somewhere in the blogosphere. But here you were, catering to a man who knew what to do.

There was no coaching. No training. No room for you to argue and hassle over how to handle your body. Guys treated sex like they were lord and master over a woman’s body. As if you hadn’t spent your entire life with it. Every bump, mole, or scratch on you was accounted for. You knew your body best. So why wouldn’t a guy listen to how best to please you? 

None of that arrogance was present in Stunna. He eyed you like you were a goddess. Like there were curves and rolls that he wanted to explore, he just wasn’t sure where first. 

He held out his hands and helped you stand up. He grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a quick, bruising kiss. You gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to sweep in and explore your mouth. Your tongues dueled and danced, twirling and circling. He moaned as he sucked on your lips, tugging, feeling an answering tug in your pussy. 

You were dripping, absolutely ruining your panties. His hands caressed your shoulders, moving down your sides, and finally cupping your ass. He made a deep groaning sound, squeezing your ass and separating your cheeks just because he could. 

“Let me see how wet you are for me,” he said. He guided you to the bed, pulling on the middle of your panties. His knuckle brushed your wet heat and you gasped, looking at him.

He kept that same intense look in his eyes, staring at you while you moaned and whined. He bit his lip, watching you. Watching every sigh, every grimace, every jerk of your body. 

“How wet that pussy get?” He asked. He continued to rub his knuckle up and down your slit. You grew wetter under his attention, oozing your essence in slow waves. Your teeth were chattering, clicking as you felt your tummy getting tighter.

You gripped onto his forearm, squeezing and feeling his tendons move as he played with your pussy. He opened his hand, fingers swirling around your clit. Fuck, you were on fire. Burning and burning with no end to the suffering. 

“S-Stunna,” you stuttered. 

“Oh, say it again,” he growled, voice deep and commanding respect. 

“S-Stunna, fuck! Oh my god, oh my god,” you moaned. 

“Mhm, loud and clear, baby,” he moaned.

You moaned louder, letting him know verbally that he was doing something very well. He dipped his middle two fingers in your pussy and you leaned off of the bed, clutching his forearm. He grabbed your wrist with his free hand, pinning it to the bed near your head.

“Keep that shit down, fuck you fighting for?” He asked. “Let that shit go. Let it all go. Let the bullshit go and come get yours,” he said.

“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” you moaned, choppy, ragged sounds escaping you. You focused on your orgasm, teased it to the front as you thought about this gorgeous man bringing you pleasure. How he seemed to be a figment of your imagination.

Something your mind conjured up, surely. There was no way he could be this perfect. This focused on your pleasure. He used this thumb to press on your clit. And like a bottle rocket, you were off. Screaming your pleasure and entering the upper atmosphere. You couldn’t breathe, clutching the sheets and bringing it to tuck under your neck as you exploded on his fingers.

Stunna cooed, watching you. “So fucking pretty. So fucking good cumming all over these fingers. Fuck, I could watch you all day and night,” he groaned. “Pussy nice and fucking juicy.” 

He got to his knees, grabbing your thighs while you were momentarily out of it. You squealed as he pulled your ass off of the bed, moving your panties to the side, and then sealing his lips to your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Stunna! Right there!” You screamed, hands flying to the back of his neck and holding on. Stunna planted his hands on your thighs and pushed, nearly folding you in half. There was pressure on your lower back, legs too thick to hold up on their own, even with his assistance.

You hooked your arms under your legs to hold them open, getting back into the groove of his tongue lapping at your juices. There were lewd, sucking noises as he ate you out. His tongue was big enough for slow circles that touched your clit and your entrance. Round and round he went, getting you worked up to the point that you couldn’t hold yourself proper anymore. You just wanted to collapse, to give in to the dying star in your heart as it wanted to blast you into pieces. Scatter you across the universe to drift endlessly. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whispered. 

“Wet ass pussy. Can suck on this shit all night,” Stunna moaned, continuing to eat you out. It was official. Stunna ruined you for all others. No one else would be able to take you to such heights. Multiple times? You were turning into liquid jelly all at the masterful way he commanded your body. 

Stunna wiggled his tongue back and forth over your pussy, dipping his long tongue into your entrance before returning to your clit and becoming ruthless. He flicked his tongue faster and faster. Your tummy fluttered, getting tighter, twisting, toes curling.

“Look at me, pretty,” he demanded.

You whined as you looked to him for help. Stunna smirked. He watched you as he slobbered over your pussy, adding to your juices, and making your thighs slick. You caressed Stunna’s head, scratching his scalp.

Stunna moaned as you found a good spot, and he started to gyrate like he was already fucking into you. His arm jerked as you assumed he finally took himself into his own hands, tugging on his meat with a frenzied jerk. 

You came first, exploding on his tongue while screaming his name and shaking and twitching. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body shivering, light shooting behind your eyelids. 

“Stunna, Stunna, Stunna,” you hyperventilated. You needed mercy. You needed to tap out. But fuck, you were trying to make it to the finish line. Trying to be good so you could get a taste of that dick deep within your walls. You needed to get stretched out and disrespected. 

Stunna moaned as you shook on your way down from your orgasm. He wrapped up eating you out, slowing down, fewer and fewer licks. You were sensitive, twitching with every stroke of his tongue. 

“Stunna, please,” you rasped.

Stunna chuckled, standing up and wiping his dripping mouth. He smoothed your juices into his beard, letting you soak all of it. You licked your lips as you looked at him between half-lidded eyes. 

“Time to put in work, pretty,” he said. “You still with me?”

You nodded. “This is the best sex I’ve ever had,” you said. You were beyond feeling ashamed admitting that. You’d had some satisfying lays. Some not so much. But nothing, nothing, nothing compared to Stunna. That sexy smile. That deep voice. His natural manliness that only made you want to serve him. To give him whatever he wanted. To be his free use little whore who took his big dick whenever he needed to empty his balls. 

Stunna grinned, leaning over your overheated body. He kissed you. You tasted and smelled yourself on him. It only fueled you to gyrate against him. So needy already. He had been rocking your world all night and here you were begging for me. He hadn’t come once. Selfish, selfish, and yet, you continued to writhe your body against his. Silently pleading for him to go ahead and take you. 

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that? Perfect,” he whispered against your lips and went right back to kissing you. He kissed you like he ate you out, sloppy, desperate, and like it gave him absolute pleasure to feel your lips on his. 

Stunna stood up, and loosened the rest of his tie and slipped it over his head. He tossed it onto the floor and then went to work on his shirt, going through the buttons with unparalleled speed. He took the shirt off and you gasped, eyes widening to take in all of him.

He had an amazing, thick body. Broad shoulders. Lean hips. Legs for days. His chest rose and fell as he smirked, taking off his shoes, pants and briefs in one fell swoop. He snatched up his pants, pulling out his wallet and then pulling out a condom. You loved a prepared man. 

He took his time rolling the latex down his huge dick. You watched it glide further and further down to his base. He stepped back into the heat of your body, grabbing your hips to line you up properly. 

Stunna caressed your lips, thumb running across your kiss-swollen lips. “You can tell me to stop at any time,” he said. 

“I know,” you whispered and nodded, giving him that clear permission to do what needed done. 

Stunna grabbed his base and then guided himself inside, groaning at how you instantly gripped his dick. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. Fuck, he was gorgeous. His mouth hung open as he concentrated on your pussy, on fitting as much of him inside as he was able. 

He pulled out when he met resistance, plunging back in and getting deeper. He repeated the motion, letting you get used to his size. You pushed at his stomach. Not that you wanted him to stop. But fuck, you needed to hold onto something before you came apart at the seams. 

You took him more easily, all the prepwork well worth it. “Oh, oh, oh fuck,” you cried, sounds getting higher in pitch as he started to increase his strokes.

His hips moved in a roll, fucking into you. He gripped your hips, squeezing, punishing, as he continued on, slamming into your walls with enough force to shake the bed. He groaned as he found a deep rhythm, jackhammering inside your pussy. 

He moved his arms to brace himself on the bed, pushing your legs up in the process. You whimpered, looking at him. It was too much. Fuck, it was too much. And yet, it was not enough. Not nearly enough. 

“Oh Stunna, oh baby, oh fuck,” you moaned, throwing your head back against the mattress as you lost yourself to the throes of ecstasy. 

Stunna groaned. “Say it louder, pretty,” he said. He fucked and fucked, dropping his face to your chest and suckling your nipple through your bra. There was a wet heat on your chest but it wasn’t on your skin and it was driving you wild. You cried and begged, no longer aware of what you were saying.

You could be begging for the nastiest shit and you wouldn’t fucking know it. Not while he was hitting it so well. Not when he made sure to take care of you. He bit your nipple and pulled. 

Pressure built in your lower tummy, churning and twisting, until you gripped onto his shoulders and cried out again. This one had to be worse than the last. You whimpered as your left leg shook violently, spasms piercing your leg. Your choppy whine made you scrunch up and start crying, the orgasm too much for you. Feeling too good, to the point of pain. 

Stunna gripped your throat, hard enough to mean business, but light enough that you could escape if you wanted. You moaned, eyes in the back of your skull once more. “Squeezing my shit. You’re doing so well, pretty. So well. Pussy so juicy. So wet,” he moaned as he finally let himself go.

His tortured moan was music to your ears, face slack in relief, as his dick pulsed and throbbed inside. He felt even bigger, stretching you, splitting you open. 

Your harsh breaths matched his as he leaned to the side, on his elbow, while he slowly softened inside. You rubbed his shoulders and his back, almost ashamed of the scratches you must have left there. Soft enough, he pulled out with a choked moan. 

He kissed your skin, kissed your neck, leaving hot wet kisses up to your lips. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. 

You were spent. Blissed out. Fucked to within an inch of your life. All you could do was stare in a daze at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck just happened. Sure, you were there for the festivities, but you were at a loss. There were no thoughts in your head. No swirling, lingering worries about the conference or the lecture you had to give tomorrow. 

Stunna returned to the room, running a warm washcloth between your legs. You whimpered and slapped at his arm.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You made such a mess, pretty,” he cooed as he cleaned you up, flipping the washcloth and rubbing down your thighs as well. You felt so cherished. So in tune with him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Stunna chuckled. “No, thank you. I’ve never felt like that with anyone else,” he said. 

“Me neither,” you gushed and smiled. 

You couldn’t believe that your ho phase was starting at your big age but you were here for it. Here for more chances like this. You’d likely never see him again, long distance relationships never working out for anyone. You were too greedy. Too needy. You wanted to climb underneath whoever you were with and never come up for air. You couldn’t do that if the guy was halfway across the country. 

“Give me a minute or two to recover. I’m currently paralyzed,” you said and huffed a laugh.

Stunna laughed. He climbed onto the bed and helped you sit up further. You remained on your bed, staring up at him. He laid on his side, head on his hand and leaning against his elbow. He used his right hand to trail his fingers up and down your body, creating a lazy figure 8 pattern.

You talked well into the night, learning more and more about each other’s interests. You moved from video games, to books, to movies. When your yawns became too frequent, barely able to keep your eyes open, Stunna kissed both of your eyelids and ordered you to get under the covers.

He scooted in behind you after turning off the light. “I can leave if you want me to,” he offered.

You wiggled your ass against his front, dick fitting into the crook of your ass. He was huge even at rest. You sighed in deep contentment, snuggling into his heated chest. “Stay. I got plans for you,” you said.

Stunna chuckled and got more comfortable, pulling you into his body. He sighed as well, flexing his hand over your belly in a possessive way that made your heart skip. 

“Well, then, I have to stick around for these plans. Sneak peak?” He asked.

Your answering snores let him know that you were gone, off in dreamland. He chuckled and kissed your forehead, whispering good night and sending a quiet prayer to the universe, thanking it for bringing you to him. 

The end.

There's more Stunna! The Secret Big Stunna Files

[ultravioletbrit]

“thankful” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 361 words

“You’re very lucky, Mr. Black.” Madam Pomfrey tells him, adjusting the sling on Regulus’ arm. “This could have been much, much worse, were it not for Mr. Potter.”

Regulus glances to the hospital bed next to him and sees James’ smug smile.

“Right.” Regulus grumbles to Madam Pomfrey.  

“Alright, you boys get some rest.” She says, closing the curtain around their beds.

Regulus starts to settle down on his bed, but James doesn’t move. Regulus glances over again and now he has an expectant look on his face, like he’s waiting for Regulus to say something.  

“I suppose you expect me to be thankful now.” Regulus mumbles.

“I mean, a simple thanks wouldn’t hurt.” James shrugs.

“I’m not thanking you, Potter. You were a fucking idiot.” Regulus scoffs. “I was the only one that should’ve been hurt, but you had to be a hero and try to save me and now we’re both hurt.”

“Oh, yes. I broke my ankle, and you have a broken arm, how terrible.” James says sarcastically. “You almost had a broken fucking skull, Reg. Better two minor injuries than one life-threatening one—"

“It wouldn’t have been life threatening.” Regulus interrupts.

“Reg, you were unconscious, plummeting head first to the ground and Hooch wasn’t close enough.” James tells him. “You would’ve crashed, and it would’ve… it would’ve been bad, Reg.” James finishes softly, holding eye contact with Regulus.

After a moment, James sighs and shifts to finally starts settling down on his bed, moving one leg more carefully than the other.     

“How’s your ankle feel?” Regulus asks quietly after a minute of awkward silence.

“Kind of numb and tingly at the same time.” James shrugs. “I can’t put weight on it, so I’m stuck here for at least a day to give the skele-gro time to work. How’s your arm feel?” He asks.

“Feels alright. It’s in a sling for a day or two, so not bad. Could’ve been worse, I guess.” Regulus shrugs  

“Hmmm…” James hums. “Yes. It could’ve been much, much worse.” He mimics what Madam Pomfrey said earlier.   

Regulus sighs dramatically and huffs. “Fine. Thanks… I guess.” He mumbles under his breath.     

“I’ll take it.” James smiles brightly.

[haydenlovers]

NSWF 18+

Dilf!Anakin x FemReader

Warnings - Smut, soft dom Anakin, oral (f receiving), slight edging, p in v, praising, creampie

Not proof read

Anakin’s dialogue - Readers dialogue

You’re so fucking beautiful. He whispers against your skin, as he continues to kiss your thighs. The cool breeze across your chest causes your nipples to harden. His big hands wrapped under your legs gently massaging your thighs. Gently sucking in your skins leaving marks all over. Placing a kiss on your clothed clit, sending shivers down your spine. Slowly pulling down your panties revealing your throbbing cunt.

All wet f’me? He smirks glaring up at you with his blue eyes full of desire.

Mmh

Use your words princess

Yes, Ani, all for you

You gonna be a good girl and cum when I tell you to

Yea, I’ll be a good girl I promise

Open your legs baby. Wider. There you go, good girl

You shutter at his words. He licks his lips before licking up your folds, causing your body to jolt and hand to grasp onto his hair. His hands wrap around your ass holding you in place. His tongue circling around your clit teasing you. He slowly moved onto your clit placing a gentle kiss on it. Your pussy throbbing with anticipation. Before he starts devouring you, sucking and licking your clit, as if it was his last meal.

He slips a finger into your warmth curling it making the right spot. Adding another finger in to stretch you out. Squirming as he moves faster on your swollen bud. He grips you tighter to stop you moving, as moans escaped your mouth. He moaned against your cunt, sending vibrations through your body. Fuck… Ani m’gonna come.

Not yet. He mumbles against your clit. But you felt a familiar feeling building up in stomach, as your pussy clenched around his fingers. Anakin slowed down and removed his fingers, and the feeling in your stomach disappeared. As he toyed with your bundle of nerves painfully slow. Grasping his hair trying to pull him in more.

Please Ani

As he picks up the pace again and slipping two fingers back in your entrance. Curling them at fast pace causing your back to arch. His tongue moving faster as that you feel your climax quickly building up again. As he adds a third finger.

Ani need to cum please. He hums against you as your vision blurs, trying not to cum. Yanking his hair begging for him to allow you to cum.

Cum for me baby

Clenching around him, you reach your climax and your juices still out onto his face. He removes his fingers and licks them clean. Humming at the sight of you out of breath still recovering from your orgasm. He brings himself up to your lips, and plants them on yours. His tongue exploring your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he caressed your soft skin, slowly moving from your hips to your waist.

You did such a good job. He plants a light kiss on your forehead.He heads to the end of the bed and stood up quickly removes his boxers, revealing his hard member. Every time you see it is like the first time, you could never get over it. How long and thick it was, with a pink tip and a few veins that stuck out. He grabbed your ankles pulling you towards him. His hands run up to your hips and quickly flips you over so you’re on your stomach. You put your ass up aching your back waiting for Anakin’s next move.

Already want more princess

Yes, please need your cock so bad

He draws himself closer to you, and runs im his rosy tip up your dripping folds. Trying to move your hips closer to him, but being stopped by his strong grip on your ass. He slowly pushes the tip into your entrance, soft grunts leaving his mouth as he bottoms you out. Stretching out your tight walls, making you feel so full.

You gonna come for me again when I tell you

Yes Ani

Anakin starts to thrust into like there’s no tomorrow, his cock hitting in the perfect place. As your moans filled the room, and his grunts became louder. Your poor little pussy being abused by his fat cock. You grasped onto the bed sheets, as his hands trailed up your body caressing your soft skin. The sound of your pussy squelching and skin slapping became more aggressive, as Anakin’s cock brushed against your cervix.

Taking me so well baby. Being such a good girl for me huh?

You couldn’t form words to respond as pleasure was too much. You were a moaning mess, and Anakin loved it.

Wanna come again? Come on my cock baby, thats it

Your walls clenching around him as you came all over his dick, moaning his name. His dick twitching inside of you as your pussy tightened around his cock, sending him over the edge as his hot seed filled you up and leaked from your swollen pussy. Mixing with all your juices.

Did so good f’me. I’m proud of you sweethearts

[fairylando]

why are they serving rich hot gay billionaires (when are they not?) realness😮‍💨

[max-nico]

Happy whumptober everyone !! This is technically an installment to an old series I have on AO3 so here's that link, in case you want a little bit of context.

01. Race against the clock

Search party || panic attack || “if only we could hold on”

Sonic did not expect losing a kid to be this stressful. Especially when the place he lost him isn't very big. One bedroom, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a basement, and a garage. Honestly if you want to be a little more technical, the garage door stays locked at all times, so does the basement, and the second bathroom. That's even less places for a toddler to be able to hide, but somehow Sonic still can't find him.

Shadow can't either. He's begun looking in places that are physically impossible for the little fox to hide in, because if either hedgehog has learned anything; it's that toddlers are enigmas that can do anything if given enough time unsupervised. Not that Sonic was leaving the kit unsupervised. He would never. Don't ask for Shadows' two cents on this topic though, because he has a lot of evidence that shows otherwise.

“Alright.” Shadow huffs, slamming a couch cushion down. “Walk me through it again. What happened?”

“Well, the kid wanted something from me, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.” Sonic drawls.

“Right.”

“So, he stormed off, then he disappeared. I was in the kitchen when he walked away.”

“And there was absolutely no suspicious noises, shouting, or anything?”

“There was a big boom.” Sonic elaborates.

Shadow looks thoughtful for a second, a hand running through his well manicured quills. “Did you go investigate the boom?”

“‘Course not. There was no howling or crying so I figured he just got frustrated. He gets that storming off stuff from you, by the way.”

Shadow glares at Sonic's cheeky smile.

There's silence between them for a few moments as they think. There's truly not a lot of places the kid could've gone. The house is small, only really having the necessities and… various nicknacks. Nothing the kid can break or hurt himself with, obviously. They're both good enough at parenting to at least put away all the fragile stuff.

“Do you think he left?” Shadow says out of the blue, a slightly sick look on his face.

Sonic replies with a matching concerned expression. Miles has seen both of them storm out of the house multiple times. Shadow does it out of anger, and Sonic does it to irritate Shadow. It's a balanced relationship. Unfortunately, their very normal and healthy balance has put them in quite a predicament.

Miles is nothing if not a mimic. If one of the hedgehogs does something, he's immediately copying. Everything from words, to actions, to gestures. It's as endearing as it is annoying. Shadow's had to cut down on threats and Sonic's had to cut down on recklessness, but they've both come to terms with the fact that it's probably for the best that they drop those habits anyway. Now they just have another habit to drop, the habit in question being; leaving the house to influence some sort of rage, of course.

“Shit.” Sonic says.

- ฅ -

Miles is very angry, or was very angry. Now he really just wants to go home. The sun is going down and it's getting cold outside. He doesn't want to be outside when it's cold because… because it's cold. He hates being cold.

Sonic taught him what cold was sometime ago, well Tails has always known cold, he just didn't know what it was called until a few months ago. He taught him that the fridge-freezer is cold and the stove-oven is hot, and they are opposites, but they both can hurt when there's too much of either.

That's another word he was taught, ‘hurt’. Lots of things can hurt. After discovering how many things can make him hurt, Miles has begun to be afraid of a lot of things. Things he wasn't afraid of before living with Sonic and Shadow. They taught him ‘afraid’ and ‘scared’ and ‘fear’, and they taught him how to be those things too.

The sun is going down. He is afraid of the dark, and he is afraid of being cold. There is no Sonic to read to him before bed, and no Shadow to give him a blanket when he shivers. Miles is alone, and he thinks this is the scariest thing of all.

Still, he carries on, unsure of where he's going, determined to get home before nightfall. He's gotten turned around a million times by now in these woods. The house is surrounded by it. Everything looks the same, everything smells the same, everything feels the same. The trees are so so tall, and the brush is so thick it pulls on his fur. He can barely see over the huge bushes. He doesn't understand how anyone finds their way in here.

But then, there's a miracle. A path. The trees have been split down the middle, and the brush is burnt to a crisp, but there's a path. Miles isn't sure what he's going to do when he reaches the end of it, but it has to be better than ripping at plants and shivering in the cold.

He trips on to the thin line of clearing. The leaves under his knees burn patchy holes into his fur, making him hiss loudly. The worst part is he's still cold when he stands up, you would think burning yourself while being cold would make you warm, but no, it just makes you cold, and it makes you hurt.

Miles feels like his heart is stuck in his throat. He's felt like this before. He knows he has. The memory is blurry, buried deep in his subconscious, and the same thing that squeezes his heart tells him to leave it alone. Miles doesn't think he has a choice, he's still walking down this path, and he's afraid if he doesn't pay more attention the cold will get him.

The cold, or the dark, or the fire, or the aloneness.

He starts sprinting. He can't help it. He can't let the cold the fire dark solus it get him. He feels like his lungs are wringing themselves out in his chest, he can't get enough air in as he runs. What if it catches up to him? Miles can't stop. He can't. He can't. He can't.

Of course, Miles' body doesn't care about the dark creeping up on him. He collapses in a heap on the forest floor. The smoldering thicket beneath him puts more patchiness into his coat, but he just can't find the resolve to get up. He's suffocating, he can't focus on the heat. He just can't.

Miles isn't sure how long he lays there. Long enough for the moon to rise high in the sky at least. Time got weird when he crumbled. He blinked once, twice, then the sun was completely gone, and the light from the brush had been snuffed out. It left him shivering and alone on the charred floor.

The fox debates on getting up for a while. Doing what Shadow does by weighing the pros and cons. He gets tired of that quickly, and decides to lay there out of pure and utter exhaustion.

Miles dozes for a while. It's so cold. His nose is runny. He's hungry. It's dark. His body hurts. He's scared. Miles doesn't want to remember the last time he felt like this. He still doesn't think he has a choice.

His mind fumbles through fuzzy memories of labs, IVs, medical tables, white floors. The full picture is just barely out of reach, like he's dragging the anamnesis from his brain with a fraying rope. The longer he lays shivering the more he begins to remember. Obscured faces just barely begin to clear when something blue enters his vision.

The memory is gone, floating away from him like a heavy fog.

“Sonic!” Miles yips, pushing his dirty and burnt body off the floor. He smiles and tilts his head up, getting a long whiff of Sonic's naturally breezy scent.

Only, he finds it to be lacking. He smells ozone, heavy and metallic. It makes his nose wrinkle in disgust as he finally begins to focus on the thing in front of him. Blue, sharp, and robotic. He swallows as he realizes the machine in front of him is definitely not Sonic.

So what does he do now?

Alright. Barely proof read. Wrote in about an hour n a half.

When this is posted to AO3 (don't expect that to happen any time soon) this will be proofread, elongated, and maybe multi chapter, for your reading pleasure.

Feel free to hop into my askbox !! I am p bad at keeping up with asks but I try my best !

Whump prompt explanations

Race against the clock = make it home before nightfall

Search party is only Sonic and Shadow bc in the fics canon their friends don't know about Tails yet

Panic attack. Tails has one.

I honestly forgot about the quote. It will be used as a chapter title when I post this on AO3

I make no promises that I will participate in everyday of whumptober. By the gods am I giving it a shot tho

[aria-greenhoodie]

You asked and ye shall receive. Aria,why do you use birds to symbolize Abigale's inner turmoil?. Besides the obvious surname thing. Also you apparently have more thoughts on the Muse art? 👀,explain?.

So obviously yeah, “Blackwing” is such a bird surname. BUT THATS ONLY THE SURFACE!

Birds are so often used as symbols of freedom, creatures untethered by laws of the land due to their ability to fly. In the same way, I imagine Abigale as being similar; free, not having to abide by the laws of her land as much as others did. In order to explain I think I have to dive into my version of Abigale’s backstory a bit…

(Warning: I’m going off what I know about 1800-1900s American Society. I’m no historian, but I’ve tried to keep things as believable as possible. I will say I’m pretty confident in that believability thanks to my feminist history class I been taking this semester.)

Born in the early 1880s, the Blackwing family was wealthy, yet fairly unknown. Calling it a “family” before Abigale’s birth would be a stretch in many’s opinion, being made up of just Mr. Atticus Blackwing and Mrs. Chastity Blackwing. Chastity tragically passed in childbirth, leaving Atticus to raise Abigale all on his own. He became fiercely protective and supportive of the young Abigale, a tiny spitting image of his late wife.

Abigale was always an insatiably curious child. At first, Atticus tried to teach her how to be a lady, to be domestic, to cook and clean and dote on her future husband, but quickly realized he was woefully unequipped for teaching a subject he knew nothing about. What’s more: Abigale HATED her womanly lessons. Instead, Atticus decided to let her learn something she actually was interested in; inventing.

Abigale loved to tinker, to create. The mechanical was a fascination of hers from the moment she saw it. Atticus as an architect had some mechanical knowledge, but not to the level Abigale’s insatiable desire to learn needed. But what engineering school would allow a woman in? At this point in the late 1800s, women were nearly always snubbed in inventing spaces, most universities not even offering engineering degrees for female students.

And so, Abigale’s “twin brother” Abraham Blackwing was created. A pseudonym for Abigale, under which she would don Atticus’s old clothes from his boyhood and attend a prestigious engineering school. Her father even falsified documents like Abraham’s birth certificate to make him appear like a legitimate person. It was risky, as crossdressing was a punishable offense by law back then, but Abigale was willing to take that risk if it meant she could learn.

Between her rich father supporting her every decision and passion, and her alter-ego, Abraham, to fall back on, Abigale had a lot of freedom growing up. When her father died of an illness just before she graduated, he left “Abraham” everything, which of course meant that Abigale could “live with her brother” and hold a bank account under his name. She was truly given every opportunity for freedom, more than any woman of her time.

And then, Bill Cipher enters her life.

She’s plagued by the triangular demon ip every night in her dreams, but she refuses to succumb to the shape’s demands. As tempting as building a machine like an inter-dimensional portal was, she knew better than to trust a man who wouldn’t explain his motives. When Abigale asked why Bill wanted this portal built, he couldn’t give her a straight answer, and that was enough proof to know he was no good.

After weeks of restless nights and aggravation, Abigale finds a peculiar ad in the paper, written by a certain Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III…

On some level, she has to thank Bill for entering her life as much as she has to curse him for it. If he had never decided to torment her specifically, she never would have met the rest of the Anti-Cipher Society. Abigale THRIVED in the society, delighted in inventing new ways to ward off Cipher, collaborating with her dear Jessamine to create specialized weaponry, learning self defense from Horace, gossiping with O’Pimm, spending night after night explaining the mechanics of how her inventions worked to Thurburt so he could whip up a stellar sales pitch… she had never felt more alive! She was flying high, much like a bird on the wind.

And then the conference happened.

Thurburt was institutionalized, right then and there. Abigale watched the asylum workers from backstage with mounting horror. Worst case scenario for Thurburt, he’d be locked in a cell or sent out west at some work camp, but for Abigale? If the asylum workers got ahold of her, she knew they’d think her hysterical. Treatments for “insane” men were often much kinder than treatments for women in those times. Deeming Thurburt insane would send him to a locked cell, but he would at least be allowed to remain himself. Abigale had heard of women like her, eccentric unmarried women, “frivolous women” as they were often called, being scooped up by doctors and spat back onto the street with their entire personalities wiped. A hammer and a well placed nail up the inside of one’s nose could do heinous things. Abigale would sooner die then let them take what made her HER away.

So she ran. She tried to take Jessamine with her, but she refused to leave Thurburt. For six days Abigale hid in the society’s underground bunker, terrified of venturing outside, not knowing what happened to her companions besides Thurburt. She only ventured out on the seventh day because she had run out of food.

She couldn’t go back to her house, when she tried to scope it out, she saw the asylum workers already knocking at her door. She couldn’t stay in the bunker, it was only a matter of time before it was found. She was desperate for a way out, to keep herself free.

And here comes Mr. Northwest.

See, the thing about birds is that while they make excellent symbols of freedom, they also make excellent symbols of being trapped. Birds can be put into cages, forced to sing or speak for meager treats, and lets not forget that at that time most birdcages were anything but spacious and comfortable. Most captive birds of the time were expected to die quickly, only purchased in order to sing prettily for a short while before their tiny little hearts stopped beating. Birds are as much a symbol of freedom as they are of captivity, of being trapped, of the LOSS of freedom.

Abigale never wanted to be a wife, but what choice did she have? Mr. Northwest offered her a way out if she married him. Her choice was thus: escape the state with Mr. Northwest as her husband, or stay in town and eventually be found and promptly lobotomized, erased of any trace of her real personality.

She chose the former.

Better to live in a gilded cage, twittering for scraps, then to be gutted and stuffed on som taxidermist’s wall…

Right?

As for the muse stuff most of my trout process I already told you in the notes of the original piece lol

[itsbackwoodsbby]

A/N: confession- pretty sure this was wrote the beginning of this year… like february/april. went through a lot. never forgot it though. revisited it a lot to read what i had. just never finished … here it is … nov. 22nd at 3am. removing the cobwebs and putting it for the world to see. hope you guys enjoy it. definitely not proofreading this, so excuse the errors.

ICU

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x Black Fem Reader

Warning: Smut! Unprotected Sex! Dinking (Recreational)! Swearing!

Summary: Yahya and you used to be together, until you both realized that you were better off as friends. You start dating again and none of the guys are really for you. a lonely night in your apartment makes you realize that Yahya might be one.

Inspo: ICU by Coco Jones

you come into your apartment and place your purse on the counter and take off your heels. you head to the kitchen and make yourself a very strong peach margarita on the rocks. after you make the drink, you trudge to your living room and sink deep into your couch, replaying the date in your head. he was an hour and thirty minutes late. he got loud with the waiter for getting his food wrong. the waiter was new and scared. so our waiter changed to a waitress and he starts flirting with her for the whole ass night. you groan and start face palming.

there’s no way you go out with yet another asshole. get it together y/n.

“alexa, play icu by coco jones.” you blow out, very upset with yourself.

she follows your command and the music plays.

you close your eyes. the cadence of coco’s beautifully crafted voice fills the room. you get up and look at the night sky and admire the stars. they looked so delicate in the sky. then, you were startled by a pair of hands wrap around your waist as you felt lips on the nape of your neck. you know who it was without turning around. it was him. but you don’t fully know if it’s him. you turn around to face this man and you were right.

yahya… the one that got away. you guys met through mutual friends who were trying to hook you guys up. a few weeks later, you two started dating. he was amazing. he called you every day to check on you, random flowers, occasional dates. sweetest guy ever. then, he got busy with work and you got busy with work, the two of you barely saw each other. slowly, texting each everyday went to no text for many many weeks. so you two decided with your busy schedules to just be friends.

as you two were facing each other, you don’t speak. just admire each other. you start to think how the hell you went this long without this man. his warm embrace and his touches were the best thing ever in this world. you two dance together to the song. your head resting easily on his chest his arms. you haven’t been this relaxed in a while.

as soon as the song goes off, yahya disappears. you open your eyes and realize you were only daydreaming about him in your lonely apartment. the condensation of the glass now soaking the couch. you shake it off by finishing the rest of your drink and heading to the bathroom to shower. you start playing your shower playlist and get inside. when you turn on the water, you let a sigh out and let the water rain down on your body and lean on the wall.

your thoughts travel to the first time you shower with yahya. you close your eyes again and he’s back in the shower with you. he hold you tightly and you reciprocate the same tight embrace. you look up at him and kisses his chest. he smiles at you and kisses your forehead. then somehow, you pinned against the shower getting dicked down by him. you’re grabbing onto to the shower curtain, screaming, because the pleasure is so unbelievably amazing. he just chokes you and plants his soft lips onto yours to quiet you down. you’re on the verge of coming. he goes deeper and hits your spot until you’re creaming all on his dick.

then… he’s gone again.

y/n … don’t do it. fight it. you don’t miss him. it’s just the alcohol and that horrible ass date.

you try to repeat it to yourself in the shower as you wash your body. you get out the shower, get dressed into this, and do your nighttime routine. when you get done, you go into your room and decide to write out the things you have to do tomorrow. trying to be productive and organize. afterwards, you scroll on instagram and the first post yahya. at a dinner party with your two mutual friend, leilani. they were cuddled up together… and not in a friendly way. your emotion start to show and you’re jealous. you sighs and lay in bed and try to go to sleep. but no matter what, you started feeling him cuffing him, making you miss him more than you think you actually think you do. you sit up in bed and look at the time. 1:30am. finally breaking and deciding you need to talk to him, you grab your phone and a cardigan to wear. heading to the living room, you grab your keys and glasses. you’re heading to the door and you open it and see yahya was about to knock on your door.

“uh… hey y/n.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “i know it’s late and all but i just really need to talk to you.” you touch his chest and tap him. just to see if he’s real. he chuckles, “are you okay?” you sigh out, “yeah.” you giggle, kind of embarrassed. “this night has been crazy.” you say. “come in. make yourself comfortable.” you say moving out of his way so he could come in.

he comes in and you two sit on the couch staring at each other. “so. how have you been?” he starts off. “i’ve been good. started back writing.” you say. “and yourself?” you add. “that’s good. i’m amazing. finishing up filming with leilani. it’s been really fun.” he smiles really hard. “that’s good.” you say, trying to cover your jealousy. you don’t think he catches on to it but he chuckles, “what’s up?” he asks and you give him a confused look. “what do you mean?” he shrugs a bit, “you just said it dryly like you’re jealous or something.”

you laugh it off but he was spot on. he could always tell your emotions. and you didn’t know if you hated it or loved it but now… you definitely hated it.

“anyways yahya. what are you here for?” you asks him, trying to avoid the question. he breaths in, “y/n … i miss you.” you look at him and you’re super speechless. “what do you mean?” you stumble out somehow. “look… i understand we didn’t have time for each other at one point of time. but i really like you. hell i love you. i can’t even get you out my head.” he says. “you love me? what about leilani?” you ask him and look down. “what about her?” he looks at you confused. “aren’t you two together?” he chuckles and it turns into a laugh. “no, we’re not. it’s just for the movie.” you look down kind of embarrassed. “oh okay.” you smile at him and giggle. “i miss you so much yahya. with everything that’s being going on… it showed me how much i miss you. how much i need you. us breaking up was a mistake. i love you too.” you say, as it feels like 100 bricks has been lifted off your shoulders.

you both admire each other again. eventually, you shy away and look down because you both have been staring too long at each other. he lifts your chin up and caresses your warm cheek with his thumb.

“don’t break contact.” he says, looking into your eyes, more like your soul.

you just nod your head and look at him. eventually, the two of your lips collide with each others. this feeling right here is what you missed. after the kiss, you two catch up with each other some more. with a bottle of wine and some music, the conversation starts to get a little sensual.

“yahya… when is the last time you had sex?” you ask him boldly out of nowhere. he laughs, “well uh, i haven’t had sex since we broke up.” he places his glass down and eyes you down. “did you give my pussy away to someone else?” you astounded at the way he reworded the question, “wow, uh way to throw me off guard.” you giggle. “nope, i didn’t give your pussy away.” he smiles at you, “good girl.” making you bite your bottom lip. “mm … let me put this wine up. it’s a little warm.” you say and head towards the kitchen.

you open the refrigerator and place the wine in there. you close it and before you can turn around you feel those muscular arms wrap around your waist. you smile. his hand begins to fumble with the trim of your romper and his finger starts brushing against your clit. you remove your body from the romper and turn around to face him. he licks his bottom lip, letting you know, it’s about to go down.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ (resume spot)

the time was now 2:30am. the room was filled with skin clapping and moans and groans. you looked back at him. it’s crazy how you were just scared to make eye contact with him a few minutes ago, but now you’re looking back at him with the most sluttiest, lustful eyes. making him know, you want more and he gave your more. a little too much more. you grab his chest and slowly trailed down to his stomach to slow him down a bit. however, he just grabbed both your arms and pinned them to your back.

“fuck! yahya, please it’s too much!” you cry out as he smirks at you. “baby girl, i know you can take this dick.” he grunts out. you sigh and bury your face in the pillow and moan into it. he smacks your ass, “i want to hear you, y/n.” you jump up a bit and bury your face into the pillow again. he shakes his head, “well, you put this one on yourself.”

he pull you up from the pillow by your hair. your back is now on his stomach as he digs deeper inside your pussy. your moan resume filling up the room as you relax your head on his shoulder. he kisses your neck and pulls your waist closer to his, making sure you don’t run from this dick. you grip his muscular arms and dig your nails through them.

“oh! oh! fuck! baby, i’m about to cum.” you squeal out. “cum on this dick, baby. he kisses your neck as you clench tighter and tighter around his dick.

you wet his waist down with your orgasm. you fall back on the the bed and try to relax as he was still fucking you. it wasn’t as aggressive. your throbbing pussy was bringing yahya closer his nut as he hovers over you, planting wet kisses down your back and giving you slow deep strokes. a few seconds later, he pulls out and cums on your back.

“shit, i really needed that y/n.” he says as he smacks your well bruised hand printed ass. “lemme go get you a towel.”

he goes to your bathroom, runs some warm water on two rags, and comes back and cleans his mess off your back. you arch your ass up to stretch like a cat. yahya spreads them cheeks to clean your pussy up from the wet mess you have, but gets distracted by your glistening pussy. he smirk. you look at him.

“oh, no. you’re not eating my pussy again.” you say, but you wiggle your ass at him. he touches your clit and rubs it slowly with his thumb. “oouu, shit, baby. i just said no.” you saying, but both of you already knew you wanted him to eat it again.

he starts having a full blown make out session with your clit. you couldn’t do anything but hang your mouth low and push his head closer to your pussy. he grips your cheeks and spread farther apart from each other and licks up and down. you close your eyes and bite your lip.

“mhm, baby. just like that.” you nod your head and start grinding your lower half into his face.

he grabs your waist and pull you even more closer to him, burying his face in your pussy and starts shaking his head in between your cheeks, getting his nose wet in the process. you couldn’t understand how you just fed this man your pussy almost an hour ago and he’s still eating this motherfucker like he’s hungry. your clit starts to pulsate, meaning it was time to cum again. you sigh as you cum in his mouth this time. you flip on your back and watch as he gets the semi-cold rag. he barely puts it on you, yet you still jump up.

“too cold. too cold.” you hiss out and he laughs. “you want me to just lick the mess up?” he jokingly says. “yeah.” you say laughing.

you didn’t think he would take it serious since you laugh, but he did. you let out a moan and he chuckles and comes up to your face and kisses you sloppily while let you taste yourself on his lips and in his saliva.

“see how good you taste, mamas?” he says after the kiss. “yes.” you smile, giggling at him. you two cuddle for the rest of night and watch the sunrise in the morning and making up for the time lost. then eventually, you both go to sleep.

Next >>

[lovewithoutresin]

Thank you for tagging me @isitcasualnow sorry this took me SO fucking long to do

Shuffle your on repeat playlist and list the first 10 songs

girl i've always been - Olivia Rodrigo

obsessed - Olivia Rodrigo

High Infidelity - Taylor Swift

Pass The Nirvana - Pierce The Veil

Better Than This - Lizzy McAlpine

Mastermind - Taylor Swift

Living Dead - MARINA

Pacific Coast Highway In The Movies - AWOLNATION, Weezer

Stadium Love - Carly Rae Jepsen

London - Mokita

no pressure tagging! @cruel-style @cardiganofbetty @spacewillowz @gloomknot @doctorbeverlycrusher @thetorturedchairman @lonelydncers @comehomet0myheart @midnightgoldstone @isitovernow-ootw @hope-ur-ok @liesyousoldme @darkchocolateyoghurt @riversrunningfree

[griefabyss69]

Right Where It Belongs

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

‘HOLE’ wc: 404 | rated: E | cw: None

Steve's POV of Legend Has It + a little further 😈

Whatever the hell had possessed Steve to answer Eddie's question by gently taking his hand and making tender love to it with his mouth has decided to stick around, apparently.

The side of him that goes a little nuts at the opportunity to eat someone out didn't care that he was about to wholesale simulate oral sex on his good friend's hand – and not even for a joke, there's no inebriated guffawing here.

There's only Eddie's lips, wet and bitten and open on the type of moan he usually only ever hears from himself.

There's only his own mouth, his tongue still fucking the tight ring of Eddie's fingers, flicking the underside of them as if it’s inside of someone's pussy.

And he's getting into it – too into it – his cock giving intermittent reminders that it exists every time Eddie's eyelids flutter shut or he gasps around a swallow… or when he fucking cums right in front of him, in his jeans.

He stares at where Eddie's grinding his palm down into his crotch, only looking up to catch the tail end of his orgasm face, drinking in the hot red flush over his skin.

Shit, either his oral skills are telepathic or Eddie's got sensitive hands.

"Oh God," Eddie groans, and Steve wants to make a joke about that, ease the tension a little, but he's too slow to pull his mouth away from Eddie's knuckles.

Steve clears his throat awkwardly, and kisses Eddie's wrist, trying for an "It's okay that you came in your pants, I thought it was really hot" kind of moment while Eddie's got his eyes covered with his free hand.

"I'm so sorry," Eddie mumbles, and Steve liked the embarrassment, but can't stand the shame.

So he places Eddie's hand on the couch between them and goes for his zipper, the sound making Eddie's head perk up.

There we go.

"I'm sorry too," Steve says, meeting one unnecessary apology with another.

He pulls his cock out, hard and bare and ready, not touching it yet as Eddie watches, teeth sinking into his lip.

"This is the other part of it," he says, shifting on the couch to give his hand room so he can cup his balls. "Making someone cum with your tongue is fucking great."

"Yeah," Eddie breathes, folding down to get his mouth close to Steve’s cock, looking up at him. "It is."

[compacflt]

wip wednesday: let’s have some happiness around these parts for once!!

[megamindsecretlair]

So Full of Love

Pairing: Dom!Big Stunna x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) fingering, (female receiving) , use of sex toys, orgasm control, teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. ONE SHOT!!!

Summary: Stunna comes home late one night and finds out that you haven't eaten all day.

Word Count: 5,208k

A/N: I could not get this out of my mind. Maybe it's the full moon, maybe it's Maybelline. I'm definitely exposing myself and this is definitely self-indulgent, but I hope you enjoy! How'd this taglist get so long??? LOVE YALL! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @melaninpov @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @jay-mach

You backspaced on the draft you were currently working on, not liking your word choice. Had you used it too many times in a short span of time? Probably. 

You groaned. You were probably thinking too much but it couldn’t be helped. You needed it to match whatever scene was playing in your head between your two characters. You could see it so clearly. But it lost its luminesce by the time it traveled from your brain to your fingers. The edges weren’t shiny, they weren't perfect.

“Baby?” 

“Room!” You called out. You hadn’t heard the door opening and closing but that wasn’t unusual. When you were in the middle of one of your writing fugue states, you had no sense of your surroundings. A burglar could rob you blind while you were writing and you would be none the wiser. 

Stunna’s heavy footsteps traveled down the short hallway to your room. He stopped in the doorway. You glanced at him with a smile. “Hey baby,” you said.

“You are so damn cute, you know that?” He asked.

You giggled and shook your head. There was a burning need to continue. To keep going and ride your train of thought to the very end. However, it was hard to focus once Stunna was in the room. He occupied your thoughts on a near obsession level. He took up the whole room even when he was partially in it.

You glanced at him again, wearing a white polo and jeans, gold chain around his neck. He looked good enough to eat and your thoughts naturally drifted to what he had in store for you tonight. 

“You’re cute,” you said with a yawn. You rubbed your eyes. Now that you weren’t in a fugue state, your check engine light came on.

Your body creaked as you stretched, rolled your neck, cracked your knuckles. “Shit,” you groaned as you stretched again. Your muscles protested from sitting for so long. A random ache in your foot from laying it on its side. 

“You been writing all day?” He asked.

“Yeah, I had a dream that, like, completely fixed my plot hole!” You said. You grinned at him, excited about your idea. 

Your stomach grumbled, you had to pee, and your wrist was starting to burn. Everything you ignored for the past few hours was coming back to bite you in the ass. 

“You drink some water?” Stunna asked. He leaned back against the door frame, cocking his head to the side. Your body instantly reacted to how fucking fine he was. Your mind went on a little trip, imagining peeling his clothes off of him.

Stunna chuckled. “Babe? Water,” he said, his voice getting deeper. 

You pouted. “I promise I’ve had water. All sixty-four ounces like we agreed,” you said. You grinned, proud of yourself for remembering to take your breaks and get some water. You were even able to pick up your train of thought after and continue with your writing. 

He grinned, showing off a set of grills that were solid gold on his canines and hollow across his top row. It gave the illusion of a vampire and now your mind offered images of being underneath him while he sunk fangs into your neck. 

“Good. How was your lunch?” He asked.

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that the ravioli he made for you was absolutely perfect like always. But then you got a furrow in your brow as you thought about what you did today. And eating was not one of them.

You looked away from him, sure the guilt was written all over your face. In the downturn of your lips and the widening of your eyes. 

“About that…” you said slowly. 

Stunna made a dissatisfied grunt and you continued to look everywhere but at him. Did you eat it? You would have remembered? 

You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to remember what you did today. During your breaks, you refilled your water and you did some light stretching. Really, you were just too anxious to return to the idea. You had been proud that you remembered the water, that he wasn’t going to be upset with you about it. 

Hell, sometimes it was just hard to remember to eat. Your relationship with food was tumultuous at best. Toxic at worst. 

“Did you or did you not eat your lunch?” Stunna asked. 

You sighed. “No,” you admitted. Shit. You were on track to do everything right today. 

“Look at me,” he commanded.

It took you a couple of tries, but you turned your gaze towards him. Oh, he was pissed. His nostrils were slightly flared and his grin was gone, replaced with a disapproving look that you didn’t like to see. Well, at least when it was aimed at you. 

“I’m sorry! I forgot!” You said. Your eyes turned round, bottom lip poking out. “I’ll eat it right now!” You said.

“I know you will. What did we say about you eating?,” he said.

“I didn’t think about it,” you said. 

His face didn’t change. He continued to look at you like he didn’t know what he was going to do with you and your lack of self-preservation. You truly didn’t do it intentionally. Sometimes, you didn’t want to eat. Or feel like eating. Your screaming stomach told you that you needed to. But you always had something more interesting to do.

“Go handle business and meet me in the kitchen,” he said. He left without another word. No parting pleasantries or insights to what he was thinking. This punishment was going to be worse than last time. You could feel it in your bones.

You took care of business in the bathroom, washed your hands, and then came out to the kitchen. The smell of ravioli filled up the kitchen and Stunna stood in front of the microwave, watching the plate spin round and around.

You stood next to the table, nerves skittering throughout your body. His shoulders were sloped, head cocked to the side, and hands resting behind him on the tile countertop. You studied his profile.

Sometimes you had to pinch yourself that he was yours forever. There usually wasn’t certainty when it came to relationships. But not yours. There were zero doubts between you. Like your souls were written in the heavens before you found each other in this life. 

The microwave beeped, pulling you from your poetic mind. Stunna grabbed the plate from the microwave, a paper towel, and a fork and came into the room. He didn’t smile when he noticed you were in the room. 

Guilt tore your tummy up. He went through so much trouble to make you delicious meals every day, sometimes snacks and dessert as well if he had time, and you couldn’t remember to eat it. 

He placed the plate onto the table and pulled out the bench seat that sat against the wall. He sat down, leg extended off the edge of it, and turned to look at you. 

“Off,” he said. 

You suppressed a whine as you began to slowly take off your oversized gray T-shirt, some ratty thing that you stole from him. But it was soft and smelled like him and you practically lived in it. Your shorts were next, panties as well because you knew that was going to be his next command. Before long, you were completely nude while he was fully dressed. 

He patted his knee and you sat down on it. Stunna grabbed a box that had been sitting on the table that you didn’t see. Your heart rate spiked seeing the plain blue wicker box as he slid it across the table. 

He opened it, making noises with his mouth as if this were a simple dinner. As if he were waiting for you to sit down beside him and discuss the weather or latest TV show. He rummaged around in the box and you wondered what he would bring out. 

He waved his fingers, deciding. The anticipation tore your insides to shreds. Your breathing increased watching his hand skate over various sex toys. He finally plucked the nipple clamps out. Shit. 

You played with your fingers while he kissed your neck. “Relax,” he said.

“I can’t! You’re killing me!” You said.

“Punishments ain’t supposed to be fun, baby,” he said. 

“It was an accident!” You said.

“Once is an accident. You conveniently forget too often to not be on purpose,” he said. 

He hummed while he put the nipple clamps on you. You sighed as the clamp put pressure on your nipples. A chain dangled in between, lightly knocking against your chest every time you breathed. You instantly felt it echo as a throb in your pussy. You gripped your thighs trying to get used to the pain. 

You took deep breaths. Steam rose from the ravioli and the smell was making your mouth water. No, punishments were not supposed to be fun but you couldn’t help wondering if Stunna didn’t secretly enjoy it when you skipped meals. If he wasn’t sometimes hoping that you did so he could try out all kinds of different punishments on you. 

Next, he selected a pair of handcuffs. “Aw, baby no!” You said. 

“What?” He asked. He turned your head towards him by pinching your chin. He forced your eyes towards his. His cold, cold brown eyes, like a hibernating bear, merely stared at you. 

“Please! I’ll do better,” you pleaded with him. 

“I wish I could believe that. Hands,” he said. 

You pouted some more while you pulled your hands behind you. He leaned back and secured the handcuffs to your wrists. The fuzzy inside tickled your skin but you weren’t in a laughing mood. You wanted to touch him while you ate. You hadn’t seen him all day. 

He yanked on the chain in between the handcuffs, making sure they couldn’t come off. Then he pulled on the nipple clamps and you hissed at the tug of pain. “How you feeling?” He asked and kissed your shoulder.

“I’m good,” you said. 

Stunna nodded and picked up the fork, grabbing a piece of food. He blew on it lightly to cool it off more and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth. It was easier to obey him now than face his wrath later. 

“Tell me about your day,” he asked you while you ate.

While he fed you, you had to concentrate on not cumming and telling him about your day. You ran some errands, you took your breaks and drank water, and did some laundry. He listened to it all as if it were his favorite news program. That your little mundane life meant the world to him.

It was a small act that only made you fall more in love with him. He didn’t have to do all that. He could be happy with the simple version of events. But he once told you that he liked listening to the sound of your voice. The way you lit up when you got on the subject of your writing.

“What was the plot hole you fixed earlier?” He asked. He fed you another bite and waited till you finished chewing. You told him how your dream helped you fix it. That it wasn’t a problem with the character’s actions, it was the setting. You were married to the setting, but sometimes you had to kill your darlings. It hurt, but it was needed.

Stunna licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, pussy throbbing from the swipe of his tongue. “Almost done, you’re doing so well, baby,” he said.

The praise made your heart soar. You shifted on his thigh and he yanked on the chain between the handcuffs to keep you in place. You were eager. Restless and too ready to feel him. You were needy for his touches. You couldn’t touch any part of him like this. 

He was clothed so you couldn’t feel his skin on yours. Your hands were tied so your fingers couldn’t search for his. 

There was a nice little wet spot growing on his jeans underneath you. You felt it every time he bounced his knee to help you concentrate. 

He kissed your cheek and began to tell you about his day. About all the bullshit he had to put up with. He figured that you were writing when you didn’t text him back and he told you that he’d been dreaming about getting back between your legs. 

“The things I was gon’ do to you tonight,” he purred in your ear, sealing it off with a kiss. 

“You still can,” you said. 

“Naw, we gotta do better about eating. I worry about you,” he said. The fork scraped against the bottom of the plate as he grabbed the last bite. He brought it to your lips and you opened your mouth. Your tongue dashed out to lick up every drop of sauce. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Stunna’s eyes zero in on your mouth. A quiet sigh escaped him. 

You looked down and could see the imprint of his dick straining against his zipper. If only your hands were free, you could help him out with that. 

You swallowed your food and nodded. “I don’t mean to make you worry,” you said. 

“But I do when you don’t eat or take care of yourself. I need you here with me,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

“You gotta eat consistently,” he said. He shook his head. He placed the fork back on the plate and faced you. He wrapped his hands around your waist, linking his fingers together. 

You didn’t know how he did it. How he made you feel so small and dainty in his arms. You were a big girl, proud of it. You had your issues, but you ain’t get this tummy for no reason. You liked to eat and enjoyed food. It just wasn’t a priority to you. 

He leaned in and kissed you properly. His big lips covered yours and kissed you slowly, methodically. He treasured you with sucking your bottom lip and tongue delving inside, tangling with yours.

Each kiss turned you on more and more. You would never look at ravioli the same. Every time you’d run across it now, you’d think of this. Of the burning neediness in your veins. 

As he kissed you, he untangled his fingers and drew his right hand across your belly. “You nice and full?” He asked.

You nodded. Breathed him in. “Yes, Daddy,” you said. His fingers moved lower, in between your legs, and lightly drew his fingers around your clit.

You gasped against his lips. A few more swipes of that and you’d cum on the spot. You moved your hips, trying to get him to keep playing with your clit. To tell him without words that you were close. 

He licked his thumb and returned it to your clit, drawing tight little circles that made your mouth drop open on a strangled moan. He kissed along the length of your neck, swirling his tongue every so often. It tickled, but you were far too focused on what his hand was doing. You hissed as your pussy throbbed, so close. So close. Almost. Your body tensed, ready for it, ready for the pleasure.

Stunna moved his hand. “No!” You cried out. Your pussy ached and you panted, brain not comprehending that you weren’t about to cum. 

“It’s cute that yo ass think I was gon’ let you cum,” he said. He continued to kiss along your neck. You felt your orgasm retreating, backing away from the edge. You sighed and dropped your head back. 

“I’m sorry!” You said. 

“Mhm, I know you are,” he said. He continued about his business, kissing and licking against your skin. There was nothing you could do. Nothing you could say. He would not listen to your apologies. He was only about action. 

You’d have to set alarms or some shit. As much as you loved the way he played with your body, you loved it more when you could touch him back. You wanted to run your hands across his scalp. You wanted to twist your fingers between his. Or unzip his pants and wrap your lips around his dick. 

You couldn’t do any of that with your hands behind you. He knew it too. He knew how much you loved giving him pleasure. 

He licked his fingers and then tugged on the chain of the nipple clamps. You hissed at the bite. The ache had retreated to the back of your mind until he yanked like that. “Still good?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said. 

“That’s my good girl,” he said. He kissed your cheek and then helped you stand. “Go wait for me in the living room.” 

You walked to the living room and then knelt on the paisley carpet. It was soft beneath your knees. You heard Stunna as he moved around the kitchen, washing the plate and fork. He moved towards the bedroom, you think, until he emerged in his soft gray briefs. 

Your mouth watered taking in his body. He worked hard on it, ensuring that he looked good and felt good. Narrow hips. But a round ass that you loved to grab. He had legs for days with his tall ass. He towered over you like a skyscraper from this vantage point. 

He petted your head while he walked around you carrying the box from the table. He sat down on the couch and widened his stance. He took his time turning on the TV, flipping through channels. You bit your lip as you watched him. 

This was so damn unfair. This punishment was worse than watching him get himself off without you. You had to listen to him groan and grunt and close his eyes while he painted his cum on your body like a canvas. 

He found a sports program, getting invested in the game while he rubbed the back of your neck. You didn’t know who was playing or what the fuck the announcer was saying. Your eyes were glued to his dick. 

You rubbed your cheek against his knee, light hair there tickling your face. He didn’t stop you from moving closer, settling against his leg more fully. He turned his attention to you with a little smile. You saw a hint of his grill. You were so fucking wet. You needed him to make his point so that you could cum. 

“This wouldn’t entirely be part of your punishment, but you are too damn cute sitting there,” he said. “You gon’ look cuter with my dick in your mouth.”

“Please,” you whispered. 

He licked his lips as he took in your prone form. His eyes dropped down, down, down as if he could see straight to your pussy. He grabbed his briefs and lowered it enough to free his dick.

You smiled. He was hard as a brick. Thick head leaking precum already. He stroked himself a few times and groaned softly. “Come here and please Daddy,” he said.

You moved between his legs, leaning up onto the couch. He guided his dick into your mouth and groaned at the contact. You sucked him down as far as you could, moaning a bit at the taste of him. That salty and spicy mix of his scent. The feel of the tip of his dick against your tongue. 

You looked up at him and he finally grinned. “Don’t look at me like that girl, gon’ make me nut early,” he said. 

You continued to look at him, moving your head up and down. You drooled on him, getting his dick wetter and wetter. Your slurps began to compete with the sound of the game. You sloppily sucked him down, licking underneath the head, and then swallowing him down.

“Fuck, look at you being so good for me,” he said.

You moaned. You kept bobbing your head, wanting to fit all of him inside. You hadn’t managed to do so thus far in your relationship but practice made perfect. Your eyes flicked from his veiny dick to his eyes as he watched you please him.

You watched for any variation on his face. Any hint that he was close to busting. He licked his lips when you took him deeper. He hissed when you played with the tip with your tongue. The chain that dangled between your titties cold against your chest, blasting you with awareness every time it slapped your skin. 

He groaned, cursing under his breath. He moved his hips, fucking into your mouth. You moved closer. His dick poked the inside of your mouth, your cheeks, and threatened to make you gag. 

“Fuck, baby. Needed this. Needed you,” he moaned. 

You watched the muscles in his chest and arms contract. Watched his stomach rise and fall in quick bursts. He grabbed your neck and squeezed. You groaned. You licked his dick like a lollipop before suckling him back in. 

He jerked and then laughed. “Fuck, I’m finna bust,” he groaned. A second later, his dick pulsed as jets of cum filled your mouth. You swallowed him down with a moan. Some escaped your mouth. He gathered it up with his thumb and pressed it into your mouth. You suckled his thumb too as if you were still sucking his dick. 

“So fucking sexy,” he said. 

He kissed you. Big, wet, sloppy kisses. He bit your bottom lip and you groaned. “Please, let me cum,” you begged. 

“Not done with your punishment yet,” he said. 

You whined. “Please! I need you inside me, Daddy,” you said. 

He nuzzled your nose and placed tiny kisses all over your face. You sighed with a small hum. Why was he so damn cute? And hot? And just gorgeous all around? Sometimes it felt like you were so full of love, you could survive off of it like sweet nectar. You didn’t want for anything as long as love filled you and surrounded you. 

“I can be nicer when you start being nicer to yourself,” he said. 

“I will! I promise!” 

“I know you will, baby,” he said. He told you to take deep breaths while he took the nipple clamps off. You were prepared for it, but it still hurt like a motherfucker. You hissed as he released each one. He discarded the clamps onto the coffee table, ready to be cleaned later. 

He helped you stand and then sit in his lap, facing him. His dick rubbed against your folds and you groaned. You straddled him, putting your titties directly in his face. 

He leaned down and began to lick away the sting from the clamps. “Oh fuck!” You moaned. 

Waves and waves of pleasure suffused you. Your whole body shivered from the delicious, torturous swipes of his tongue on your aching nipples. He moved back and forth, getting both nice and wet. The sting from the clamps began to dissipate. But the roaring fire deep in your belly only got worse and worse.

He tugged and pulled on your nipples, hands gripping onto your ass and squeezing. Was it possible to die from too much pleasure? You felt like you were going to pass out if he kept this up. 

You were making desperate, wild sounds as he took his pleasure from your body. His hands moved up and down your back, wiping away goosebumps. He kneaded your skin all over. He touched as much of your body as he could. 

“How you feelin’ baby?” He asked.

“Feel, ah, so good,” you whispered.

“How’s your arms?” He asked.

“Good, they don’t hurt,” you said. There was enough slack between them that your arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off. Stunna smirked against your skin. 

He stood with you in his arms. You yelped. “I got you, I got you,” he said into your chest. He helped you onto the couch, onto your knees. You couldn’t hold yourself up, so your face was mushed against the couch cushion opposite where he sat.

You heard him rummaging around the box until he made a satisfied sound. There was a soft click and then he pushed the vibrator against your clit. You cried out, ass lifting higher as if you could escape him, as he pushed the vibrator closer. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried. Your legs shook. He placed one hand on your back and pushed you down, pushed you to stay still and accept what he was doing to you.

“Yo ass gon’ eat from now on, right?” He asked.

“Yes! Yes! I promise!” He pressed the vibrator into your clit and you were shaking in earnest now. You were..so…close…

He moved it away and you screamed out. Tears gathered in your eyes. Your lower belly hurt at this point. You couldn’t take all this damn edging. 

Stunna leaned down and pushed his tongue into your entrance. “Oh SHIT!” You moaned. Stunna slapped your ass, moaned, and then moved his tongue to your clit. He flicked it and you began to drool on the couch. 

The sounds you were making were low, soft, and like you were in pain. Shit, you were! You were out of your mind. Desperate, needy. You’d sell your left titty if he’d let you cum at this point. However, you were too far gone to plead now. 

Tears escaped your eyes and you sniffled. You were leaking everywhere. From your eyes, nose, mouth, and pussy. 

“Making such a mess, baby. Tasting so fuckin’ good. Hmmmm,” he said and rolled his whole head with how he ate you out. 

Your whines increased in a crescendo, reaching higher and higher. Fuck, you were about to cum. You didn’t have enough air in your lungs to tell him. To warn him. 

You should’ve known. He stopped eating you out and you whimpered. “Please,” you breathed. 

Stunna chuckled. He rubbed your body and your body relaxed in increments. You weren’t going to survive. He was going to have to make funeral arrangements for you. Your body shivered painfully and you moaned while he massaged your body. 

“Now what did we learn today?” He asked.

“Eat m-m-more,” you said, your teeth chattering. 

“That’s my baby,” he said.

He got behind you, pulling your hips back against him. His dick brushed against your pussy and you whimpered. He moved his hips, trying to line himself up. It didn’t quite do so, so he moved his hand to guide himself inside you.

Once the tip pushed into you, he shoved inside and you cried out. “Shit, Daddy!” You screamed.

He slapped your ass. “Bounce that shit back,” he said.

You moved, bouncing back on his dick. Your ass jiggled every time you made contact with his thighs. 

“That’s it. Work that sexy ass on this dick. You took your punishment so well. I’m so proud of you,” he said. 

He moved his thumb to your clit and soaked his finger. He then pushed it into your ass and your hips jerked, dropping forward as any remaining strength left you. His thumb wiggled into your ass and you cried, fat drops of tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He took over slamming and pounding into you. “Oh fuck, Daddy! Daddy!” 

“Go on and scream my name, baby,” he said. “You feel so damn good squeezing Daddy’s dick. You missed me, huh?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck,” you moaned. 

“You missed me, baby?” He asked. His voice was soft and sweet but his strokes were deep and punishing. The dichotomy made your pussy flutter. He groaned, feeling it. 

“I missed you, Daddy. I missed this dick,” you moaned. 

He moaned and seemed to get even deeper. As if he had been giving you shallow strokes before. Fuck, he was so big. Stretching you out and giving you exactly what you had been craving. You were going to be sore as hell after this. 

You squeezed him more. It felt like he was truly in your guts. As if you could feel him moving in your tummy. His thick head rubbed your inner walls and your eyes crossed. More drool escaped you.

“Daddy, let me cum. Let me cum,” you begged.

“You can cum baby, you deserved it,” he said. 

You screamed as your body released on his command. Your body spasmed and flopped on his pounding dick as an intense, earth-shattering, soul-cleansing, full body meltdown erupted inside of you. This orgasm rivaled any other he ever gave you. 

You may have passed out. You may have died a little. You may have entered the fifth dimension somewhere. But a moment later, he was joining you. His loud grunts infiltrated your foggy thoughts as he climaxed, stuffing you full of his cum. 

He pushed into you and stayed there, plugging it inside you. You twitched and jerked on his dick and he finished with a deep, rumbling moan in his throat.

“Love you so fuckin’ much,” he said.

“Love you so fuckin’ much,” you said. 

He slowly left you and you groaned. Already your pussy ached. He removed the handcuffs from your wrists and rubbed them. His fingers felt heavenly as he moved to rub your shoulders as well. 

He kissed your cheek. “Catch your breath, baby,” he said. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you said. You’d agree to anything right now. Absolutely anything. 

The next thing you knew, you were being lifted in his arms. You made a soft, questioning sound as he kissed your cheek. He carried you bridal style towards the bathroom.

It smelled like sweet vanilla and he lowered you into the tub. The hot water made you sigh with pleasure. He climbed in behind you and pulled you against his chest. He put your bonnet on first followed by your shower cap, carefully tucking your hair inside without getting it wet.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmured. You were so sleepy. Between the thorough fucking and the bath, you would likely sleep through the night and well into the morning. 

He whispered softly to you as you bathed together, washing away all the nasty shit he did to you. You talked more about his day, your plans for tomorrow, and any other random things on your mind. He tickled you in between kisses to your neck and you giggled as you wiggled your ass against his dick.

He rolled your ear between his teeth and warned you to quit while you were ahead. Afterwards, you dried each other off. You lotioned each other up with your respective lotions. You stole kisses. You breathed each other in. 

Then, he carried you to the bedroom because you said your legs felt like noodles. He chuckled and scooped you up, laying you under the blankets and tucking you in. He kissed your forehead before joining you in bed. 

He scooted closer, his chest warming your back. His hand caressed your belly. He placed a final kiss on your neck and you fell asleep feeling like you were on top of the world and never wanted to come back down.

THE END!

WHEW! Need more? The Secret Big Stunna Files

[rickswh0r3]

i edged to this🙏

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[aftg-random-fun]

Neil had joined Andrew and Kevin for trivia night at a local pub. Usually Aaron would have went, but he had a test to study for. Their little team had managed to get enough points to be in second place and going into the last question were confident.

“And for our last question of the night, what country has the oldest population?” Asked the Trivia announcer into their microphone.

“It has to be Japan.” Kevin said munching on a fry. “I took a statistics class where we had to keep out Japan because their population threw off the rest of the data,”

“I agree that it’s Japan. So, all in?” Andrew asked as he wrote in the answer on their slip of paper. Kevin nodded and so Andrew handed Neil the paper to be run up to the Trivia announcer’s table.

A few minutes later the Trivia announcer had totaled everything from all the teams. “The question was, ‘What country has the oldest population?’ and the answer is Hong Kong. Sorry to all of those who put Japan tonight. Our list marks Japan as the third oldest population. That means our winners tonight are the following; in third The Potatos, in second Barbies and a Ken, and our first place winners are The Squirrels! Please come up to the table and receive your gift cards.” Neil cocked his head at the Trivia announcer before carefully looking at Kevin and Andrew.

“Okay, out to the car before the two of you go insane. I’m driving us back.” Neil yoinked the keys out of Andrew’s pocket and ushered the two out while they were still in shock. They had already paid for their food before the last question was asked.

When they got back to the tower Neil made it to their room first because Kevin and Andrew were going up the stairs like zombies. Neil opened the door to the room and saw Aaron at the desk hunched over textbooks. Aaron startled at the door hitting the wall and glared at Neil. “You’re back so soon? How’ d it go?” Aaron asked pinching his nose.

“The last question was brutal. It was ‘What country has the oldest population?’ and the guy said it was Hong Kong! Ridiculous! Anyway I have to pee!” Neil said as he made it into the bathroom.

Just as Neil was finishing up, Andrew and Kevin entered. Kevin started a dramatic telling of the night to Aaron. “I want to see what your answer to the last question is. Trevor asked ‘What country has the oldest population?’ So what’s your guess?” Kevin asked Aaron as Neil washed his hands.

“Well, obviously Hong Kong.” Aaron replied nonchalantly as Neil opened the bathroom door. Neil saw the vein on Kevin’s forehead bulge and Andrew narrow his eyes at his twin.

“Who told you?! Who texted you?! Was it Nicky!” Kevin shook Aaron’s shoulders. Aaron and Neil broke into laughter.

“How’d you have time to tell him? We were less than ten feet behind you,” Andrew asked.

“No idea, but that was hilarious!” Neil smirked at them.

Once Aaron stopped laughing he asked, “So what did he say when you contested him?” Andrew and Kevin paused and looked at each other. “You didn’t contest it?!”

“Well we were in a state of shock and disbelief!” Kevin tried explaining.

“You didn’t bring up that Hong Kong isn’t a country? And that it’s a city within China that’s been leased to the British for the past century or so? Guys, you’re supposed to be better than that!” Aaron tsked.

“It was a very silly time indeed. Now Matt invited me to movie night so I’ll see you later.” Neil said as he stepped back towards the door. The others muttered before joining Neil to the movie night.

The end

[cowboylament]

“You’ve got 100 years on me. Where’s your kindness.”

“I saved your life that's pretty kind.” He said standing.

I hummed, “yeah well Eris saved it first so you’ll have to do a bit better than that.”

I might have noted how it felt to make him laugh so many times, might have wondered at the strange world we’d seemed to find ourselves within, as if winnowing had sent us sideways into another universe, rather than through our own. Instead, I felt something else, something not heavy at all, but light and wispy, vanishing from the room. It was nameless, even looking back at the two moments did not reveal the nature of what had left. Instead just an instant before, my left hand seemed to hold something within it. Like a caress but laden with meaning. My fingers flinched around the phantom. Then Lucien’s hand too, the same one, in the same instant, flexed. 

or

Y/N makes a deal with death and Lucien is part of it. Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Bonus, Ao3

(Pre-Amarantha)

“The Princess of the Night Court.”

Darkness gave way from the back of my eyes. There had once been an empty room and warmth enveloped me, but where it had gone I was not sure. My head weighed too much, and in trying to lift it, to follow the tether of consciousness made in that voice, it only lolled from side to side. I couldn’t even tell how long I’d been blinking at my dangling feet until suddenly it occurred to me I was. 

I lifted my gaze, the weight diminished, and 13 pairs of eyes stared back at me. Whatever ether I was returning from vanished, an imperfect attention to the scene taking shape. There was nothing beneath my feet for me to move on, to back away, and as I tried to cover myself with my arms I found an ache in my shoulders, a burn at my wrist from the rope. 

They were watching, those 13 eyes. Glinted in the moonlight, narrowed with mixtures of amusement and disdain. And I knew some of them.

A bony finger pressed at the middle of my spine and began to drag itself down my back. I recoiled, my legs instinctively flinching forward trying to bow my back, to run away. The High Lord, Beron, revealed himself from behind me. 

“Aren’t you pretty.” He said and I managed to twist away enough for his hand to fall. His boots crunched under the crisp Autumn of night. Were it any other circumstance I’d have closed my eyes and taken pleasure in the feeling of my bones growing cold. I’d have stood there until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and slept until the morning came, with an Autumn made for summer.

“You denied our offer of marriage.” He continued, looking toward his sons, just two of them waiting on his word. Eris stood with the cruel beauty he’d always had, ruined only by whatever sneer he decided you deserved. Next to him, Lucien. His stony exterior didn’t break, not even now, but I knew it all enough. The pair were amused. 

It had been a mistake, coming here alone, and I’d insisted. How foolish you could seem through the lens of mortality. Beron set himself before me, his thin frame so used to towering over me he almost reluctantly looked upward. The action was only made real by the fact it was he who had all the power.

“But you will still be an Autumn Court bride.”

Someone told.

Around us, the males gathered in the clearing stirred. The hum of their intentions sliced through me, cold and unforgiving. 

“This is your last chance,” Beron said looking out toward them all, the rabid wild things waiting. Something truly unimaginable had been decided, and I could not stop its occurrence, not really. “You can marry Eris and we can be done with it.”

There was a creeping silence, one that only enhanced the roaring in my ears, as if they’d been filled with air. I wasn’t even sure if I could hear at all. The only thing that told me I could was the sound of my own voice, as cutting and familiar to Beron and his son’s as the cruel tone of his own. 

“I won’t make the same mistake as your wife.”

Though he had not been amused whatever spark of joy he got in the terrorizing of females winked out. Like a cloud had passed over the moon the small brightness of his face became shrouded in shadow. Words to kill by, words to harm. Only he couldn’t, if the stories were true. If the legends of primal instincts and the Cauldron weren’t folktale, in this place, before all these people, he couldn’t. 

He walked behind me and I steadied my breathing. The moment the High Lord left my field of vision my stomach dropped. If that made a sound then every male before me heard it, along with that frantic heart beneath my chest. Their smiles broadened, white teeth catching the moonly glow to show their feral delight at my helplessness.

Even Eris. Even Lucien. 

Gravel stirred directly behind me. I looked out at the crowd like knowing their faces would give me power over them. His voice, too close, spoke the damning words.

“By the Cauldron.” He said and a deep burn wrapped my side, climbing like fire on a dry field. The cold night flooded my throat in the shock of my gasp, before it was ravaged by a scream. He was burning me, Beron, he had to have burned me, but there was no smoke. The scent too, was not of flesh, but of blood. I looked down and saw the stain across my dress, the silver blade bathed in red like it had seen battle. 

He cut me. 

And the words, his voice rang out into whatever silence had been left behind by the ceremony. The ancient marital ceremony. His sentencing worse than death, spoken in that old tongue.

“We ask the blessing of the Lares.”

Then the taut rope went slack and I tumbled down to the ground, knees screaming, feet numb. I’d been tied a long time. His barbaric deed had been done, archaic, but the old magic of the land remembered and I felt its thrum. 

“Make use of your head start,” Beron said, his back to me. He was already walking away. The outcome to him didn’t matter. 

I didn’t look to make sure the magic had bound them to their place. The cover of the brush waited, and I needed distance, I needed objects between us. Without a stumble, on legs I could barely feel, I bolted. I was only under the cover of the darkness for mere minutes, when into the silent night, cries made for battle rose to the air. 13 males were competing to find me, and whoever got me first, would make me their wife. 

It did not take too long for it to occur to me that Beron had cut me precisely to prevent any great feat. I didn’t dare try to winnow, not when the scrapes of branches that whipped at my arms in the dark could barely manage to heal. Whatever siphon of magic I contained had been clamped.

I wound my way, sacrificing distance for staggered random cuts, in the hopes that the trees and bushes would offer coverage I myself could not provide with my shadows. The bright white cloth only served as a marker, the growing red stain almost helping me though not as much as it hindered. 

Another male yelled, closer, but not by much. They taunted me from a distance. The rules of this wretched ceremony had been decided centuries before, but at least they’d put in that, the head start. If I got far enough I could winnow, into a tree or lure them someplace and then winnow myself far away. 

There came a clearing, a large one and I bit back a cry of frustration. Losing the distance only to now need it. I’d be a lamb for slaughter, out in the open. Branches snapped and I couldn’t wait. I ran into the tall grass as fast as I could. The further out I got the sharper the clairty, the more dire circumstances revealed. There was a river cutting across it. My hearing, all my senses had to be dampened. I hadn’t heard it. Those men then must be closer than—

Out of the brush, six males descended upon me. Their large frames moved at impossible speeds. I kept going, didn’t hesitate to plunge into the water even as they got closer. No planning could save me, only action. I stumbled where the water got deeper and slowed me down. I still had some time, the head start would not be for nothing. Waist deep and on slippery stones I pushed forward and did not face my fate. I didn’t want to know who was closest. 

The water which might have been thin, delicate even, seemed now thick and sluggish. It slowed me, but with the magic those males had, I wasn’t sure it would hold them. Halfway through the bank bottomed out and I submerged myself. The surprise sent a gasp of icy water to my lungs. 

Resurfacing to the sound of splashing water, the closeness of Eris's laughter, I half choked and half cried as I righted myself trying to reclaim air. My side howled as I made through the current. Even in the icy water, the wound burned. Some trick at the Autumn hand—a blade that burns. 

I didn’t let myself wallow, for what tonight was lost. Eris who had, in all his wretched years, at least laughed with me on occasion. Who that first night in summer court had asked me to dance when no one else was brave enough to do so. Even for all his scheming, for the advantage he got in those moments and the intention of insulting us, he knew me.

I reached for a branch on the other side to pull myself out, my bicep straining with the weight of my body. All the afternoons Cassian offered up his training and all the afternoons I declined. How much and how little I knew if they were to catch me, and even with what I knew, how little of it I could successfully do. 

I could barely move but a surge of strength dragged itself through me and I lifted myself out using the branch as leverage. Just as success seemed imminent, however, a sharp tug pulled me back down. I yelled a signal to whoever else was out in those woods precisely where I was, had I not fallen under again. 

Move. Move. move. The words were sent everywhere in my body but for a minute I couldn’t. The hand on me lost its grip just as my limbs seemed to register their abilities. I had no more time. Now, even these single moments could decide my fate. My fingers brushing the bottom of the murky water pushed upward. Cough after needed cough left me vulnerable. Someone saw it, they grabbed my arm. I swung, muddy rock in hand, and the cry pelted the air before a splash. I didn’t look back to see who the male was or if he surfaced. Silence followed. When I made it out on solid ground I let my assumptions push me. 

They were faster, better equipped, taller, stronger, but I was not in the water. A lacerating pain hit my gut. It slowed me down a fraction and without my fae hearing, I didn’t register the impending heavy footsteps behind me. A boot pushed between my steps and I skidded to the damp floor, disappearing into the tall grass. 

The wind was knocked from my chest but before I could replace it a hand pressed over my mouth. A body followed it. 

“Listen carefully. Make for the thicker part of the woods diagonal from here.” It was Eris. He had me, I could feel the power in his having me, like the magic wanted him to do something, but he wouldn’t. He gritted his teeth. 

“Run. Do not stop running whatever you do.”

He was instructing me, helping me? Or making the game more fun. He didn’t want to marry me. A male close by let out a cry of agony and my eyes widened. I shook my head grasping at the hope he’d find sympathy for me, that it would remind him who I was. Yet where I expected some wickedness, looking at his face, taking in the words he was repeating, he didn’t look the same. His face looked softer than it had in all the years we’d seen each other, far less cruel. I could tell it, even in the darkness of night. His words registered fully once he pressed a blade to my hand. 

“You can make it.” He didn’t say where, or what was waiting, but a noise just after the last word came out must have caught his attention. His head whipped before he looked back at me and then I saw it, his mask. It slid so precisely into place. It was familiar, it was him, it reminded me of Rhys. 

He was saving me. 

I gripped the blade.

“Looks like fate is in my favor,” Eris said. 

The two men there looked on, eager that I was caught even if not at their hand. Neither of them was Lucien, if he’d even run with them at all. He’d just wanted to see me suffer, he was worse than Eris, and I never even knew it. 

Eris looked back at me with the most subtle of nods as the men approached. The grass hid the blade he’d given me. Did he know? Did he know what I knew to do? Or did he just believe in me, my ability to survive? Two twin shadows blocked out my face from the moon and it was the only signal Eris needed. The future High Lord of Autumn moved with the speed only a cauldron-blessed male could possess.

One swipe and the males were stumbling back.  I was up as soon as his body was off me. 

“What are you doing!” one yelled toward Eris and I looked for that thicker brush. It was an impenetrable darkness just to my left. I made to shift toward it, but the second male must have come after me instead of waiting behind because a hand was on me. I whirled with my blade and struck. Unluckily, he had a weapon of his own.

“Where'd you get that?” He said almost in awe. 

My eyes flicked toward Eris accidentally. The male before me smiled and I knew he understood. I gave Eris away. He could fight these two men on his own, maybe, but it was no guarantee. Before he could think of what the information meant, what he might do with it, I sent a slash and metal met metal. I would not let my mistake prove fatal for the only one who’d helped me. 

 It was sloppy work, all of us tired, all of us sopping. I could hear Eris fighting, swords striking almost in echo to our own. My opponent managed to slice my arm and I cried out, withdrawing from his reach.

“Ah, the little Illyrian.” the man said and he tapped at his shoulder subtly. 

Darkness swooped in, slick and faint. Halfway gone, I felt halfway gone. The cold of the gown was replaced with the warmth of the blood. No, none of this was good. 

My breath curled into the night, heaving, as light as smoke. It would be a fight then, there was no other way to go. I used all I had learned from Cassian to disarm him, widening my stance, lunging, and before he could even register the shifting weight of my body a sharp slice through his abdomen gutted him. He fell to his knees with a look of surprise but the last thing he saw was my back disappearing into the thick forest ahead. 

I could feel the darkness. It pooled around me with such intensity I was being dragged by it. Foolishly I waited for Rhys to arrive, to just know instinctively something was wrong, but even as I hoped I knew the shadowed world was nothing but the heaviness of an approaching end. 

I stumbled, a tree root and fell onto the path. I wanted to lift myself but all I could manage was to crawl into the brush. I leaned against the tree that had at last defeated me. The wetness on my side remained. Whatever shock that had settled under the skin had vanished and the weight of all that had happened pressed down on the wound. My breath was shallow enough, the warmth at my side great enough, that I understood I was about to die. Whatever Eris believed I’d make it to was too far. 

I could possibly winnow, but I had waited too long to go any distance greater than the edge of Day Court, if we were even near it. And even then, even if I did that, there was no telling what or who might be around, if anyone at all. 

So I would die, and Eris would die, if he hadn’t killed that male first. Maybe in the after worlds, the lives that came later, we could stomach one another. Or else, we would be given another opportunity to prevent this outcome. 

Something cracked near by and my mind drew blank. It was right there, the creature. My head nodded to the side momentarily becoming too heavy. The brush moved and moonlight basked my face. I brought down my sword and lunged now face to face with my opponent.

Lucien.

“Stop.” He said instantly. His warm fingers wrapped around my wrist and the knife fell. After everything he’d won. 

Behind us, Eris roared Lucien’s name into the night air with so much rage I thought the trees would strip themselves bare of their leaves. Without a word, he hauled me into his arms. I was limp, dead weight, curling around him like ivy and even then his speed didn’t diminish. The noises of the ceremony fell behind us. 

Your good blood is wasted, I don’t know anyone who’d have you.

I opened my eyes and with some found strength made to push Lucien away. I don’t know who was left in this game, but this was not an outcome I could manage. I would be no consolation prize. I shoved harder. Even if I couldn’t win I would like to die knowing I’d tried, just to say I had, just because it felt like it was what I would do. 

Lucien stepped off the path and dropped me, bark biting through the cotton. 

“Stop. If you do not listen to me, you will die.” He said sternly. “Eris and I are getting you out, back to Night Court.” His reprimand loud somehow didn’t echo in the near silent woods now. As if he’d willed it. 

“That’s treason. You’ll both lose your titles and be dead by morning.” 

If Eris wasn’t dead before, he was now. Lucien shook his head and our eyes met. He had a stern cold look about him but with everything, with all of the history, all the baggage I knew what he meant. Pain lanced through me, not from the wound, but from what he had planned.

“Don’t,” I said. “I’m not worth it.”

“It’s too late,” Lucien said simply, like he thought of me as an equal. “Eris has already planted the story of my betrayal. And unless you prefer to die I’d rather not see my mate slaughtered like a lamb.”

I felt my heart in my throat. That yell, that brutal raging yell, its purpose for us, and its origin a lie. How had Eris mustered the strength, the ability, to tell it so seamlessly? Who less than half an hour ago had been smiling at the thought of my demise. Lucien would be killed if he returned, if even I couldn’t find the seam of truth and fact in that voice. His crime was beyond the scope of the Autumn Court’s cruelty. Beron would have found some way to forgive Eis and his violence but this scapegoat, it was too perfect. 

They’d kill him and if they didn’t kill him they’d hunt him until they could. Anyone who claimed him would have their own death wish. Lucien, he’s now a prize for slaughter just the same as me. We were equals.

My knees gave out and Lucien moved forward to support me on instinct. We can’t both die. Death backed away a step, as if in answer, in negotiation. I prayed to that male waiting to take me through the veil, to any forgotten God who had nothing else to do, to the Cauldron and its humor. Let me get him safe, it is all I need. 

“I don’t want you to,” I said through my teeth as the burn raged in my gut. 

The oblivion receded. The darkness at my eyes cleared and life, in its small worships, returned. The thrum of whatever had coveted the soil at the start seemed to pull back within me, just barely. I was clearer of mind. I had something I didn’t have before. 

“You don’t have to. We’re going.” Lucien made to pick me up again but I shoved my forearm under his neck and twisted us around. He froze, mouth slightly agape and eyes narrowing. He didn’t fight, even if he would be able to outmaneuver me, overpower me, in this state. 

“You don’t get to make commands,” I said, the feelings, the position, the male, it was all too familiar. “Not after what your father did.”

He craned his neck down, nostrils the disgust on his face as plain as ever. Yes, this was familiar.

 “I had no part in that. The moment we discovered what they planned we made the decision then to get you out.” 

“And if you’re going to succeed you are to do exactly as I say.”

He barely reeled it in. Out of reach still, but closer than before, sounds of males desperate raging screams tore the night in half. Their anger so chilling we both had to look toward it. His focus changed though from what he couldn’t see to what he could. He looked longer, like he was saying goodbye, taking one final look, before in similar fashion as Eris something slid over his face that masked what had been there before. Only instead of it being a false front, to hide his true intentions, its indifference concealed a deep pain. I knew what was there though, and what it mourned. Even though he’d never said it—his mother, he mourned his mother.

The male nodded. We couldn’t waste any more time.

“Take us as far east as you can in the Night Court.”

This plan had to work. Death itself had granted me the power for it. It was a precise kind of weight, and I knew just what it would allow. 

Without question, his warm hand enveloped my arm. It was the only warmth left in the world. I didn’t need to know anything for that to feel worse than it did. Death held my coldest hand, but I couldn’t think about it or the new plan. At least there were goodbyes. Lucien looked forward like he could see it, what waited on the other side of his power. His face stony, seemed barely capable of emoting at all. There was a sense of doom on the precipice. The kind in which you realize you’ve just lost everything. 

Then a wind tucked around us and pushed us through the seam of the world. 

We jumped through space twice and when I opened my eyes I might have laughed. He’d landed us perfectly. Just ahead of me a rock carved with the Night Court insignia lay hidden. 

“I can’t get any further.” He said, looking around, eyes catching, constantly flicking back to that invisible wall. “We should go.”

The wards were close, and what a comfort to know they were working. I latched my arm around his, holding it with both my hands. Now now now now

“I know,” I said. “I’m taking us the rest of the way.”

“Us?” He said but before we could move I yanked him through the ward. He felt it, in fact, his eyes narrowed in the places he’d caught before. Backing away from me, he stared at the space behind me, warped ever so slightly to the eye, like it would reveal something. You’d have to know to look for it to see it truly. 

“What did you do.” He said, disbelief clouding his face while anger descended upon him. 

“You’re staying with me. These wards won’t let you out.” I said, a small lie. Though he might not want to leave anymore, he very well could. 

Lucien’s entire face morphed with familiar disgust. “If I’ve saved you just to be killed by the High Lord of the Night Court—”

“You forfeited your life to that wretched place. You’d be lucky to have the swift death at my court’s hand.” It was so easy to be cruel to him. Even if I wouldn’t let him die least of all the way Beron would have done it, I didn’t mind wounding him. How rarely we ever came to blows with such severity and even still I knew just what to say.

“That's my home.” He plowed forward. Easy indeed. 

“If you leave…” I said. 

The world began to grow fuzzy, a warning, perhaps, that the generosity of fate was a limited thing. My power momentarily flickered in and out. We needed to go and we needed to go now. I leaned into the tall male before me for support. I was sure I was pale, sure that he couldn’t deny me. “They’ll kill you. Please, Lucien.”

Without another hesitation, the anger lost to him, he grabbed me. “Go,” He said. “Now.”

I took the last of my power, wrapped it around us, and again we were gone. 

Just as soon as we landed in the living room I collapsed forward. The deal was done. My side burned with such intensity I could barely breathe. Lucien was lifting me toward the table in an instant. He didn’t even look around the room, it was like he knew it. He dodged two chairs, a table. Whatever was on the slab of wood fell to the floor shattering in the otherwise silent house. 

The chaos, then, was born. 

Footsteps barreled through the hall and Rhys and Morr appeared through the doorway. They pushed through the furniture. It was carnage, everything was tossed over in favor of getting closer. 

“What happened?” Morr said

Rhys didn’t care. “Get Madja” and without a thought, our cousin was gone. 

“I got her here as soon as I could,” Lucien said as though he’d been here a thousand times. The townhouse, Velaris, the High Lord of Night Court, none of it mattered. The history was erased, he had tried his best, he had helped, it was all he wanted to say. His voice promised too, the desire to do more. If given an order he’d take it. 

Rhys focused his gaze, realizing for the first time just who had been holding me, who was standing in his house. He hesitated, just enough, that I saw what he was about to do and pushed myself off the table. Just an instant of his power could be irreversible.

I was not fast enough, not as fast as I should be. The darkness drew back from the corners of the room. Death watched, waiting to see who he’d take. No— as I approached the two males something about that assessment felt false. I was ashamed even, to have considered it. Something watched me curiously, whatever had given me that power, it gave a kernel more back.

 By the time I got close enough to grab Rhys and use it, he had Lucien by the neck. 

“I should rip your throat out.”

“Rhys!” 

Lucien didn’t look at me, a slight redness taking in features. I pulled my brother's shirt, blood smearing on the sleeve I tugged and tugged but he was too afraid, too focused in his pursuit of revenge. He almost lost the only full-blood family he had left. Nothing mattered besides this fact. I moved between them. Rhys couldn’t look either, he refused to. 

I pressed my back into Lucien and wrapped my arms behind me to hold myself tight into him as if my body would force air into it just by being there. 

“Let him go,” I said with the practiced sternness of regality. As if I were talking to someone in the Hewn City. I repeated it two, three times, let him go, let him go, let him go. Yet each one fell apart in my mouth, the thread of desperation growing tighter. Its influence forced a wetness from my eyes. 

Lucien’s hands which had been on Rhys's wrist reached down and grabbed mine, tightening around it. He did not come all this way to die in the townhouse. My family home was not a place of such violence. It was a brutality I was tired of. 

I tried to get into my brother's mind but it was shielded and the pain at my side became too much. He felt it anyway, me at his mind, because once I hit the shield the first time his jaw slackened. He registered, for a second time, the male in the living room.

 Lucien gasped a breath. 

“Rhysand,” Morr yelled rushing toward us. I hadn’t heard her, hadn’t even seen until she was there. “you're upsetting Y/N.” 

All words had gone. Lucien gasped for air, the grip loosening further, but I didn't look. I didn’t want to injure anyone more, find something primal in my need for Rhys to drop him. It was enough.  

The rage left his eyes and Lucien fell. Relief, like death, flooded me as my mate leaned into me for support for half a second. The darkness moved toward the edges of the room again. This was it. So I let Lucien lean, even as the pain returned. 

“He did this to you?” Rhys asked.

I shook my head, and when I faced my family, their brows furrowed in shock, confusion, moved closer together with worry. Lucien, who still pressed his warmth into my palm, gripped me tighter by the wrist and it was the first sign to me I was falling. He was the only tether left to the real world. Everything else snapped the moment that blade struck. It was all Madja needed. 

Morr ordered everyone out, her familiar arms lifting me back to where I’d been. I asked her to go watch the two males. She didn’t argue and left. A piece of the panic in my own heart settled. I hadn’t known that it was reserved for Lucien, hadn’t known that it was not for my own safety, but for his. I knew it was bad from the healer’s face. I waited for the darkness at the corners of the room to envelope the world, but they stayed put. 

I hadn’t said goodbye, but that was not part of the deal. Still, they waited, as if idle, again watching. Selfishly I was glad at least it had stopped hurting. The old fae’s hands moved quickly, her eyes scanning, I felt them both probing in and out of me, like she were under the skin. Maybe she was, I hadn’t seen the wound. 

“This may be unpleasant.”

I made to open my eyes, to see what she was doing, but just as I did she poured a solution over my skin. The pain that had been coming in its waves, returned at full force, twofold. Closing my eyes only made it worse, I became acutely aware of the deepness with which the solution entered my body, the sensation of the burning, the moving hands, the panic. I cried out, yelled unlike any of the yells I’d had in the Autumn Court. To survive this would be the hardest work, but to speak after was something of a miracle. 

“How you made it this long without passing out I don’t know,” she said.

Tears began to wet the side of my face again, and she just watched. It was all she could do while my head shook like even if she could she would take it back. My muscles contracted in directions out of my control. I couldn’t reach for her, couldn’t even beg more than a shake of the head and inaudible cries.

“What did this? Who did it?”

I didn’t answer, turning my head into the cool wood of the table. My teeth gritted so tight I don’t think air made it through, let alone words. 

“I need to know.” She said grabbing my face to look at her. I felt the stickiness of blood on my chin. I’d gotten used to the metalic scent. It was all I could smell. 

“Beron,” I gasped out pulling from her, squirming away. “With a blade.”

“Was the blade special?”

I clamped my eyes shut and the darkness was too impure for what I wanted. I wanted to find I was no longer seeing, faced with the voice. Each time I tried to escape the pain I found, always, I could get no further from it. The solution she’d poured was still making its way down into the deep of my body, further than I tracked my existence. “What?”

“Did you notice anything about it?”

I shook my head gripping the table. “It burned when he sliced me, I thought it was fire.”

She sighed and inhaled deeply before she nodded, grabbing for her supplies with fervor. The pain was coming in waves offering momentarily relief. 

“I have to do it the human way. If I use magic to heal this it will only grow worse.”

“What?” I said

“It hurts like this because your body is trying to heal it with magic which the blade is specifically cursed to prevent. It makes death slow, excruciating for fae, allowing only a little healing before reverting back.”

I let myself wallow as she attempted to thread the needle, but when my shaking proved too difficult to work with she threw a towel over my body and quickly left. For a moment I thought I’d died. I’d died and was trapped inside for just a second to see it all unfold in another layer of agony. Only she returned with someone. A tall, tanned male. His face did not betray him so easily but I knew that he was shaken up. I reached my hand out for him.

“Cassian,” I said but my voice was weak, shaken.

He approached but seemed not to know what to say, instead choosing to grab for my hand. He knelt and I was eye level with the kind familiarity of his face. The first pierce of the needle almost proved too much, with every other pain, and I clamped my eyes shut so hard I saw stars. I squeezed his hand, all that power gone, I didn’t even think about if I could hurt him. I knew I couldn’t. 

“My, my, have you gotten stronger? I think my finger is broken.”

When I was younger, regardless of how long we’d been apart, he’d hug me and always say that same line. I laughed a little, as best as I could manage which sounded more like crying.

“Rhys isn’t killing Lucien is he?”

He barely managed more of a laugh than I did but shook his head. “No, but it's taking all his and Morr’s effort.”

“Good.” I said through gritted teeth “He’s not half bad to look at I’d hate to lose the new Velaris eye candy.”

“That's probably the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about your mate.”

“If I do die at least I have a good confession. You’ve all wanted to know what I thought of him this long.”

“You can’t die,” Cassian said moving forward with such seriousness I almost went to say I was kidding but he continued. “We have 7 AM training.”

The needle disappeared seemingly. Whatever had been in that solution had begun to diminish, the waves of pain coming more slowly and with less force. It still left me breathless, but even that was a relief compared to what had happened. I would have sworn my rib was broken if the pain didn’t seem to be inflamed and surging at once.

“What you thought a little flesh wound would get you out of it? No, I don’t think so. No special treatment, even for the High Lord’s sister.”

“What if I told you I used your disarming technique.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose, “did you? Tell me about it.”

“Gutted him.”

Madjas work faded even more as I told him what I remembered, the tips he’d taught me. The choice to grab Cassian of all people, was perhaps her best and greatest prescription. 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

It was getting darker now. My throat strained on it and my eyes began to close as if I were falling into a deep sleep. The only thing that kept me awake was the sudden intensity with which Cassian squeezed my hand.

“Keep talking to me. You gotta keep talking.”

I tried to swallow, but nothing was there to swallow, and my throat began to burn in a different way. I felt the flare of my nostrils as I tried to hold it in, the pain on top of the pain, but I knew it was obvious. Knew now that my eyes glittered and clouded with unshed emotion, waiting to come out. 

“Promise me you’ll be nice to Lucien.” Cassian hesitated and I gave him the only glare I could manage. “Please.”

“I will. For you, I will.”

I shook my head, I didn’t want him to do it for me. The violence all these years, what we’d fed each other and allowed, was what brought this. It was one thing, what Lucien and I did, but it was harmless just the same. He could call me names, fight with me, mock me, but nothing would ever make me desire harm against him. This was a well-bred hatred, that had born such violence. We were all part of it, in our own malicious way. 

“You don’t understand. None of you do. You won’t even look, really look, at someone.”

I didn’t know if something like that could be undone, but at least we might say we tried. I dropped his hand and began to wipe at my face. Who knows what would happen, how I’d heal. If my mate would be stranded in Velaris or away from me. An instant protectiveness of him became me in a way it never had. 

Cassian sighed, “it will take time.” 

“I know, but you just have to try.”

“Okay, I’ll try. No more tears, not over this,” Cassian said, taking my hand back. The male seemed lost in thought for a moment before he brightened and added. “I’ll take him to Rita’s.” 

I really laughed at that and it sent the rest of my tears out of my eyes to make room for new emotions to sit there. Cassian looked less scared, softer now. Whatever was going on behind me must have been a major improvement. In fact, I felt as if my color had returned a little. “He’d be a hit there I have to say.”

“Do you have a crush on him?” I scoffed but Cassian's amusement was hard to miss. The smile on his face got broader. “I’ve always suspected that there was a little something there c'mon you can tell your cool older brother.”

“You won’t tell?”

“Not a soul.”

I closed my eyes, reluctant. I’d made such deals before, but I opened my mouth to keep talking as the sound of the scissors cutting the thread sliced through the room like a surrender, a victory. “He's certainly not a bad male to be mated to. He keeps me very entertained.”

Cassian smiled “Well isn’t it convenient that 50 years later he’s now in Velaris.”

Madja stood and the moment was broken, Cassian met her eye and nodded to whatever the healer had gestured. I did not have time to be embarrassed for what had been shared between us. Most of them had teased me about Lucien and our dislike for one another. Rhys was the worst about it, though Morr and Cassian were tied for second. All of them secretly believed we’d been together, been in love. Only Morr had reason to believe such a thing.  

Cassian moved around the table and they spoke in hushed tones. 

“He’s her mate?” The healer said before I could sense that I was alone. As they left, so too did a darkness from around the room, like a thin cloud had, at last, passed over the sun. Perhaps I had never been that close to death at all, or maybe the shadows were proof, really, of how close I was regardless of if they were real or not.

It was hard to say how much time passed, but after a moment footsteps entered into the dining room again.

“Cassian?” I said keeping my eyes closed.

“Calling your mate by another male’s name is not exactly polite.”

I turned my head so slowly, it seemed to take every bit of available energy. He was stock straight, standing in the entryway and I didn’t speak, didn’t move. I really beheld him then. Despite his face, he was warth made real. His throat bobbed, and the first step he took walked toward the edge of the table was lethargic, tentative. By the time he reached the edge though, he was more confident, kneeling just as Cassian had. His doing it seemed tender, almost sincere. Unlike Cassian however he didn’t hold my hand, he instead reached to brush away the hair on the side of my face that had become glued down by my tears.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” My voice cracked. I let my head fall to the side, let him hold its weight before righting myself. 

“Do you need anything?”

He offered it as if he knew where to go, if I asked for water, for food, he’d walk through my house like it were his own. Or else, there was a kind of bravery in his willingness to face my court and say I wanted it. In his position, I’d have been useless. I shook my head, my eyes falling to the red ring around his throat. Something in me wanted to lash out, a whip in my chest. 

His hand brushed more hair away drawing my focus back. “You did good.”

I don’t know if that was ever a word he’d described me as. Good. It sat in my mouth like marbles. I almost made to look to see where we were, if this were Prythain and not some other universe close by. Yet even my voice had taken on that tone that had no name. The kind that spoke like we were laying in bed together, like there was a long-time intimacy between us. Perhaps hatred, just as much, could make one known to another, could make a language for which only you two understood. 

Lucien’s eyes caught sight of something above my head and he reached for it. “She said that I need to check the bond.” Warmth pooled along my cheek. He had a rag, a fresh one, and he began to wipe the blood from my face. 

“Why?”

“A mate has…certain capabilities, sight, that can be helpful with injuries like this.”

I nodded, his fingers delicate and different than I remembered or imagined. I turned my head almost knowing where to go intuitively and he dragged the warm rag over me before dropping it back in the bowl. A small act of care. 

While he began to focus on our bond I studied his face. I could feel it instantly, that growing tension, as if he were pulling on something in me. If it weren’t so hard to move I’d think I was sliding off the table into him. My chest becoming his chest, his eyes mine, fingers. I scanned his features, he’d not lost the granite look he had in Autumn. He was different now though. If not on his own then simply in the way he appeared to me. He should be, loss does that, and he’d just lost his family, his mother. Something in me ached and just as the pain in my heart pierced me Lucien’s eyes flicked to mine. 

“You’re very handsome.” I couldn’t even commit to the idea I hadn’t been thinking those words. That I was saying so only to avoid the pain of my sympathy for him. It would be foolish to pretend it was not true, I’d always known it. I’d said it just because, because I guess I was trying to discover what was in this new difference, what we could do with it. 

The tension inside me stopped and Lucien’s brows rose in the shock before he began to smile just a tad.“Took you 50 years to figure that out?”

“Didn’t want to boost your ego.”

He laughed a little and I felt the pull begin again. I closed my eyes. He must have noticed after a while because he started talking again, even though it felt as though the worst of it was over. I didn’t think I was in danger anymore.

“My ego is no bother to you now?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Being chased through the woods has a way of putting things into perspective.”

“Maybe I should tell Madja something’s wrong with you.” 

I smiled as faintly as he had. This was I think the most civil we’d ever been in all our lives and even now it held an air of rudeness. It was laughable. Who knows where we’d be in 50 more years. 

“If you’re going to be here I might as well give you a chance to be bearable. I know you’re narcissistic.” 

“How mature you’ve become.”

“I always have been. You’re just too old to remember. What are you 400? 500?” the mating bond in place seemed to strain with emotion. Not one that I could decipher but it was like I’d been let in somewhere or a flood gate had been opened and all of it and its complexity came spiraling out. It ended shortly after.

“300.”

“You’ve got 100 years on me. Where’s your kindness.”

“I saved your life that's pretty kind.” He said standing.

I hummed, “yeah well Eris saved it first so you’ll have to do a bit better than that.”

I might have noted how it felt to make him laugh so many times, might have wondered at the strange world we’d seemed to find ourselves within, as if winnowing had sent us sideways into another universe, rather than through our own. Instead, I felt something else, something not heavy at all, but light and wispy, vanishing from the room. It was nameless, even looking back at the two moments did not reveal the nature of what had left. Instead just an instant before, my left hand seemed to hold something within it. Like a caress but laden with meaning. My fingers flinched around the phantom. Then Lucien’s hand too, the same one, in the same instant, flexed. 

“Y/N.” Rhys said from the hall. My mate drew back, seamlessly capable of diminishing his presence at will. He made himself less visible all altogether, I could not forget though. “Using magic is off limits while that wound heals. You’ll have to remain in bed.”

I smiled, if only to tell Rhys I was alive and exhausted, “your early morning training threats will be postponed then.” 

He could barely laugh, but he tried. He turned to Lucien, similarly incapable of forgetting him now that he was here, in this house. “I’ll show you to your room. Cassian and Morr are taking you Y/N.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed appeared behind my brother and I let my head fall to the side, everything slowed down. I felt like a wounded prey. Even my blinks came at a crawl. 

Cassian though didn’t look toward me first, he watched Lucien. His gaze trained on my mate, as if studying him. I saw something there between them which had no category, no definitive emotion, but it was like the context of my confession was a haze with which Cassian was trying to see this Lucien. Not the Lucien he knew of his own construction, but the one there, who’d traveled all that way, who’d tried for his life to get me home.

Lucien must have noticed the pause and the two ever so slightly nodded. Maybe what had left was that bitterness between us all, or else, the intensity for which it blinded us. Reluctance and yet the threads of trust passed between them. I understood only that what had happened wouldn’t be forgotten but the possibility that they could know each other differently was there just the same. 

Then Cassian looked at me and smiled. His hands reached under me and as gently as ever he pulled me off the table. He waited for any tension or wincing, speaking only once we were sage and upright.  “You know how many females would kill for this?” 

Rhys chimed in behind us. “None from what I remember.” 

“You’re just mad because you’ve been sorely lacking on our trips to Rita’s.” 

“Keep it to yourself,” Morr said. “Y/N’s already queasy.” 

***

Morr managed to clean me up. Though magic had been off limits for me, I was glad at least that its use by others didn’t burn. From the bureau, she’d managed to pull a shirt and pants. Each delicate movement sent a searing burn into my side. With every small victory, I took a breath: a hand through the armhole, my head pulled out of the neck. 

“How do humans do it?” I said wincing when she’d had me lift my leg. 

“They’re almost resilient if you think about it.” 

After tying the pants shut, however, my cousin looked at me with a cocked brow. The clothes were clearly a male’s. The shirt had too deep a neckline for females, it pooled open when we bent to reveal the bandages. The pants had to be pulled beyond their means to be tied to fit.

“Rhy’s was gone.”

“Oh that's not my question, I wanna know what your guests walked out of here with?”

I kept as much grace and delicacy as I could manage, sitting in my bed. Exhaustion was at last closing in with a welcome it had not had before. My cousin tossed the blankets over me, but I knew better than to lie down. Rhys would be here at any moment. 

I could tell Morr wanted to ask. She sat in the chair as if waiting for a solstice gift, the kind of expectant look children get, but I think she wanted to be respectful. I knew though, she wanted to ask. What happened out there, between you both? What could change things so drastically? I opened my mouth as if I words existed to tell her, and she sat forward too like she knew what was coming.

“Whose clothes are those?” Rhys said. If there had been words to say he’d have interrupted them, but as it happened I didn’t know what could change us both in such a way. I wasn’t even sure I knew where I was. 

“Cassian let me borrow them.”

I was quick, but it was useless. The male himself walked in behind him and seemed confused upon hearing his name. Rhys, however, did not even consider my lie because the clothes were far too small to be his. There weren’t even holes for the wings. We had a kind of agreement, to say as little as we could about such things. 

The gravity of our situation settled when Rhys pulled up the chair near my bed. The tightness of his movements, the precise arc of his brow. He always had a different look when he considered me, my words, as my High Lord. I could tell the difference of who I was speaking to. I was so tired I thought I might cry again, at the thought of having to hash out details now. If I did he wouldn’t be cruel, he wouldn’t push.

“I won’t ask any questions tonight, but I do need to know if he hurt you.” Rhys began to say. He didn’t say his name, just acknowledging Lucien strained on his vocal cords like the words were too big to leave his throat. Whether he’d heard me downstairs, if he’d felt that need for the Autumn male to remain unscathed, he wanted me to say it aloud, he wanted reasons.

“He got me out. He and Eris, they had a plan.”

“Eris?” Cassian chimed in. “He was there too?”

I felt a heat burn into my lower back, not that of the one by the blade, but more familiar. They’d made no promises to me, my court, only death had. If I wasn’t careful they could kill him for his family’s crimes, they could be unforgiving. My hands balled the comforter and I looked between the three warriors watching me. I felt so like them and yet so unlike them just the same. A warrior of a different kind, not meant to fight. Not meant maybe for their world, yet I was a part of it and I felt its influence gladly, with warmth. The strains though were showing. Something had changed in those woods, that much was true.

“I behaved badly,” Rhysand said, knowing what I was thinking without stepping inside my mind. “I’m committed to hearing out all sides before I make any decisions.”

I met his calculated stare. “They asked for the blessing of the Lares.”

The whole room dropped in temperature as if all the heat had been snuffed out by shadow. It was indeed ancient magic, from fae across the sea, not so much done here, where the chosen bride was taken against her will. The male intended for her was set in pursuit, and the Lares donated some of their magic to him. That was what Eris had been fighting against, the urge to release the magic, only capable when I let out a cry of pain. Beron would pick up whatever backwater ceremonies he could that allowed violence, warping them, making them worse. 

“I could barely winnow. He was the one who got us to the Night Court. I just got us into the townhouse.”

I shifted with the weight of my brother's pity. Rhys had never really asked me about my mating bond. Even the teasing historically had been more about tolerating Lucien than the thought we’d ever truly acknowledge what we were. No, not once had he asked me of Lucien and Velaris or what it was like, to have that tether, and if there was anything we wished to do with it. 

How could he though? When it had snapped into place Lucien and I were at each other's necks in the Day Court visiting as guests. We’d snuck into an alcove of the great library to try and resolve an argument but at its peak, Lucien’s eyes burned with hatred and realization. I knew what it meant. I didn’t have to ask why he’d looked so disgusted. It was a rare moment of unity, not so much civil as we’d been downstairs, but neutral. We agreed that it was unfounded, that we might ever be mated truly. 

We’d run into each other as we moved through courts and seasons alike, dancing with whoever, kissing whoever, flirting with whoever. No one was off limits besides each other. Occasionally when our manners overpowered the anger we’d agree to meet somewhere and have it out. We were so cautious it took 25 years for Rhys to find out. It slipped when I was drunk and he was so livid after I explained our arrangement I spent three months waking at dawn to train with Cassian.

“He was ready to die tonight for me. He forfeited his title to save me.” I said my voice hushed.

Everyone straightened, this was news, terrible news, only adding to the complexity. It meant he didn’t simply have a member of the Autumn Court, but it’s unclaimed exile. If Beron discovered before we told him that we’d had him there’d be reason for a blood duel, for a war.  

“He what?” Morr said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I forced him through the Velaris wards. He told me Eris and he planned to plant a story of treason. If he leaves this court, if he remains unclaimed, he’ll be slaughtered. I couldn’t let them do that.” 

To him, I couldn’t let them do that, to him I nearly said. A careful mask, one that I felt guilty about. It made me look better than I was, to take anyone's life so seriously, but the truth was I cared only for his. I’d done it for him and him alone. I’d probably have left Eris, trusted him to figure it out, just as I had in that clearing after the river. 

A heat of embarrassment struck and whatever color I had regained grew more intense. What I did want them to know though, was that it mattered to me. That if I had a say I did not want Lucien dead. He never intended to make it out tonight. He wasn’t just forfeiting a title, He was giving up his life for me. If we were equals, I intended to do the same. 

“I’m incredibly serious when I say this. I want you all to be good to him. He lost everything tonight.”

For all his friends I wasn’t sure any could claim him. I had little power over this outcome, but if there were any I’d use it. We were his best shot. It was no small ask, the fallout of claiming someone who’d committed treason could start wars. I knew though, knew that to reveal my hopes and his sacrifice changed enough. 

Across from me, the softness of an older brother returned once more. Rhysand bowed his head in acknowledgment while Morr and Cassian followed suit.

“Not everything.” Rhys smiled and before I could ask what he meant he added, “it is clear we are indebted to him. I don’t know how we’ll move forward from here, but I can at least offer him refuge.”

I let out a breath, relaxing further in the place where I had unknowingly reserved such worries for Lucien. My brother stood and the pity of the group was relinquished to the night. 

“Rest, we can talk more on it all later. You’re both safe and that's what matters.”

The group made to leave, flicking out the lights. What might the rest of the court make of all this, having spent 50 years on the outskirts with too much to say about it. Cassian had already gotten something less scathing from me. Tomorrow, in the days to come, would we revert to our old selves and let tonight be nothing? Later, as Rhys said. The lights dimmed but from the hall, the shadowy figure of Cassian peered back into the room. 

 “I can’t promise I won’t wield my words if provoked.” 

“You’re barely coherent now.”

I heard his laugh from behind the door. 

***

Sleep came quickly at first, but it began to flicker in and out. The deepness of it grew more shallow and I, unable to toss and turn, felt restless near dawn. It seemed this new feeling, this new world, would not go away. Much like falling asleep for the first time in a new room, despite being surrounded by my belongings and friends, I couldn’t get comfortable within it. So I watched the window, waiting for the new day, where. As the sky lightened to that purple dusk, the door to my room creaked open and I knew precisely who was there.

Lucien, similarly in borrowed clothes, wore a knit sweater of Azriel’s and some pants. I wanted to smile, would have smiled but I was too tired to tell myself to do it. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, we just stared at each other. Not the same Lucien really, nor I the same female. This new Lucien was keen on not speaking, and when I realized that I broke the silence. 

“Why are you awake?” 

“I can feel your restlessness down the bond.” 

I made to sit up, biting a groan, but Lucien put his hand out to stop me. It's not as if I was particularly polite and regal with him before. 

“Sorry, I can’t even shield.”

 “The healer mentioned.” 

He pulled the chair Rhys had been in closer to the edge of my bed. It groaned with his weight, the ease with which he leaned back, relaxed, like he hadn’t discovered this long-held secret. He was as casual as ever but that was familiar to me. I could make him angry or nothing, rarely anything else. I could navigate this easily, I knew the body of his relaxed posture, every flinch, every raising of his brow. What I didn’t know was what I wanted him to feel when I didn’t want him mad. The quality of the light grew more pure through the window. Not quite dawn yet not really day. In the beam of it, he looked beautiful. It was almost becoming of him, to see him in Velaris. I almost liked him. 

He smiled, the smile he gave when he knew something about me that I didn’t want him to know. I moved my mind to other thoughts but that only garnered greater amusement. 

“So guarded even still.” He said, his keen observations never unspoken.

“I have to be or you’d use it against me.” 

He shrugged his shoulders in agreement, he could only acknowledge the merit of my argument without words. I could call him handsome but it would sooner kill him to say I was right. His eyes fell out over the room and I watched his assessment, felt it, like they were Madja’s working hands. He lingered on the bookshelf.

“I’ll drop my shield too.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it's annoying, feeling what I feel.”

He shook his head. 

“When did it start?” I asked. How much had I revealed of myself? When could he begin to know precisely how much I was feeling?

“The moment he cut into you your shields dropped.”

In the river, I’d had that surge of power, like it had come from somewhere else. If he’d been with Eris he might have seen it, might have… I don’t know how this worked between us. If he could even do such a thing. But stranger things had happened, mates were always surprising. 

“Here,” Lucien said. He didn’t wait for me to give a definitive answer. At once there was a second weight of feeling in the place where the thread belonged. He watched me register it, those feelings of guilt and grief, before the core of it warmed significantly to something kinder. 

“Now we’ll both be vulnerable and we can see what the other will do with it.”

I said nothing. I knew what he meant, to see what we’d do with it. Would we wield it against each other, in argument, in our real lives if they ever came back which I suspected they would. We’d revert back to ourselves in some ways with this information, vying to have power over each other like always. To know each other like we did, that could be leveraged.

This was power of a different kind, to hold that vulnerability in my chest, to know he held my own. This was not a separate giving and taking, it was a power we had together.

“Alright. So long as you don’t brood too often.”

Lucien’s face softened and it was hard to get used to, the feelings that seemed to exist outside and yet within. A twinge of amusement had come from his chest to mine. Then suddenly admiration, then grief which settled itself more readily, like it had been there so long it knew where to go. It was like getting used to a second heartbeat in echo with your own.

“Sorry.” He said knowingly. I wondered if my face showed the pain of it, or his chest. “If things get too somber I'll shield.”

“Don’t.” 

Even if we never mated, there was a chance now to come to terms with what was between us in a way I had never considered to want. I was asking my court to change, and so too it was only fair that I did, if only in the smallest of ways. I don’t know what would become of us, what that looked like, but regardless in order to change there had to be newness, I had to see Lucien in a way different from how we’d been.

“I’m sorry about my brother,” I said.

“I can more readily sympathize with him having seen the state of you. I don’t know what I’d do if I were him. I don’t think I’d have hesitated.”

He detached himself the longer he spoke. The image I didn’t doubt took shape in his mind, informing his sympathy, deepening it.

“You’re not your father.”

His grief was overwhelming, but I tried not to show it, tucking away the sincerest version of him I’d ever known. The chandelier overhead swayed like the weight of those words had moved it. The wind howled at the window, a draft then, the shadows deepening but not how they had when I was on the table downstairs. 

“Do you feel different?” I dared to ask.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. When you went into the bond was there anything strange?”

Lucien thought for a moment, his eyes on the ceiling where mine had just been. The bond quieted to a contemplative hum. The thoughts were not so readily available, not at least, how they’d been when we wielded them to wound.

“Nothing was out of place. Does something feel wrong? Should I wake the healer?”

I shook my head. “It’s not like that. I thought maybe you’d feel it too.” Disappointment came and went as I remembered that Lucien would feel it, only after his anxiety stitched itself in my own chest. He stood just a bit and pulled the chair closer to the bed.

“I want to understand.”

“I don’t feel real,” I said my own words hushed. My voice knew I was embarrassed before I did. “It would have never occurred to me to do half of what I’ve done tonight. I don’t even think I would have imagined it, imagined you and me…but it’s happening right?” 

“It is.” 

“I thought so.” 

A wave of fear powerful enough for Lucien to feel moved through me. He shifted with it in his seat, leaning forward his elbows on his knees. “What are you afraid of?”

I blinked a few times. There was no amusement, no teasing. Just a genuine question between us, rare and new. I wasn’t sure I wanted to say the answer. I hadn’t been well versed in being honest with him, it went against my instincts.

“It’s stupid.” 

“You’re never stupid about anything.”

For the first time all night, I hoped he felt the gratitude that wove itself within me. “Something changed between us out there. I’m afraid to find out what it is.”

On the nightstand was a glass of water. Lucien reached for it and passed it over to me, our fingers brushing. I hadn’t realized how dry my throat was, how crackling my voice had become, like a fireplace, like the embers. I drank it but a softness in my throat remained, words seemed less solid than ever before. My only true weapon. 

He took the glass and set it down before saying, “do you remember in the Day Court when the bond snapped?”

I nodded. 

“At dinner, we’d been sat next to each other and we started going at it. Who knows what it was about. You were wearing a rather racy dress, might I add. Golden, like sunlight—starlight, and it exposed your whole back which you’d had facing me the whole time until our fight forced us to excuse ourselves. In the library after a good 15 minutes, you said to me, if you should find a female dim enough to bed you we can only hope the offspring don’t inherit their parent's lack of intelligence.”

His face didn’t change, but he looked different when he began to speak. I felt nothing down the bond, perhaps only greater emotions managed their way through, but the more he spoke the warmer he got even though I couldn’t say what feature of his had shifted to reveal it. 

“It snapped after you said that, like you’d dared the Cauldron somehow. And all that we quarreled over, the reason we’d left to begin with vanished from our minds and clearly since has not returned. Something new had happened, things had changed.” 

 The moral of the story had been delivered in its unassuming way. The old goes, we forget about what happened, we move on to other things. It was of enough comfort to me that I began to grow tired. 

“We’ll figure things out just as we always have.” He said and I recalled that flex of his hand, the warmth of him around my wrist when he’d gasped for air. I’d supported his weight just a fraction, but it had been so warm. My breath began to pick up, just a little, and I shifted in the bed closer to the edge he occupied. I extended my hand.

“You can hold it,” I said so quietly as if we were teenagers at the mercy of chaperones and fae hearing. I said he could hold it, but really I was asking him to. I felt his watching me, so keenly. It wouldn’t have taken the bond for him to know what I meant, he always managed to before. 

Lucien hesitated in a way he had not earlier when he’d tucked my hair behind my ear. It's any wonder what sort of instinctual behavior came with his mating bond, how he’d felt so comfortable to be tender whereas now the confidence had evaporated. Regardless, it was a short hesitation. He slipped his fingers delicately underneath my palm and I found the new warmth of him engulfing me was already familiar. 

My eyes felt heavy then. I nearly suspected a sleeping drought in the water. “And will things be different tomorrow? Back to normal?” 

“I should think so, yes.” He hesitated as if waiting for my reaction but it didn't bother me. Not at least now. 

“I was scared of that but I no longer am.” 

He spoke softly like a breeze, his words ghostly, scarcely there. “It doesn’t have to be the same forever.” 

“No. I don’t want things to be.” I said unsure of what that meant, of the future we spoke of and how it looked. I could scarcely imagine much else between us, even as the once wretched male managed to be comforting, sincere. Down the thread between us, I felt something close to endearment, but it was new, tentative. Then it shifted, it became lukewarm.

“I had wanted to get to you first,” Lucien said his stare once again taking on that greater distance, somewhere out of my reach. A heavy grief set itself between us. “That was the plan, but I didn’t get there.”

I squeezed his hand. I hoped it would be an anchor like he was to the real world just a few hours ago downstairs. I wanted to bring him back here, to bring him back to the dawn, to this story where we now sat together in a sincerity of our making.

“With matters like this,” I said as his eyes found their way back to mine. “The last male left is usually the better.”

I don’t know if he was convinced, but his shoulders sagged a fraction, and it appeared that was enough. He squeezed my hand back.

 “Sleep, I’ll stay here as long as I’m able.”

I nodded and he did not leave, not even when I closed my eyes or when I opened them again a few hours later and he told me to sleep again. Even though the light was brighter and morning seemed in full and silent swing. When I woke for the day, however, he was nowhere to be seen. The chair was back against the wall, like nothing had changed at all.

[boxwinebaddie]

uncle neen!!! welcome back omg i was so sad to see u disappear </3 hyh !!! i had a question i asked last time but i was wondering since ur rewriting ur fics, are u planning on posting them on tumblr? or on ao3? pls be kind to urself too<33

good MORNING, lovie!!!!~ <3 c':

( or whatever time it is, where you are at the moment! )

i'm very excited to announce that you are my very FIRST new ask message on my brand new blog!

( teri is my first follower; ly ter. <33 o//3//o )

***long overdue UN ramble-bramble under the cut. xx

i /do/ miss my six hundred bajillion ask memes and am mourning the loss of all my online creations and great joys as a deranged southpark fanfiction author and the legacy i built with my tiny, gay weird hands

( i will go into it another time, but i had a very, very frightening bipolar episode surrounding my blog and my role on here as a writer, friend and mentor to you all, deleted all my things in a horrible panic, was able to recover them...but in the -- what i hope is the *very last* -- after shock of my episode...i got very scared, very sad and deleted both my dearly treasured and beloved, beautifully cult followed by many of you and other ghosts of sp style fanatics past ao3 account**

**( with peppermint on it at 13k likes which...oh my god, please be gentle with me, that was a very, very hard blow and rough realization for me and i am sorry to everyone who loved that fanfiction and wanted to go back and read it for posperity and personal comfort...i miss her too; rest in peace, pep, my first born. my sweet girl. </3 )

...and most tragically of all, i deleted my tumblr blog, with over one hundred pages of carefully curated content surrounding my sp aus, your lovely, insightful and thoughtful questions and inquiries, also typed with your tiny, weird gay hands answered, in turn, with mine, torched the ev. of those memories in the final blast and lost my window into your world through that medium...

...which is literally heartbreaking to me, because more than even my silly fanfictions or my blog, what i loved to do, was talk to all of you and read your wonderful messages each day and remind myself of why i should be here and continue to do what i do. </333 :'''c

BUT! my darlings, as ravenstan would say, 'it's always darkest before crimson dawn', for the very first time in several weeks ( which, i fear, and i was, full of fear and horrible self loathing/dread every waking and nightmarish moment ), last night, i cried for a very, very, very, long time, held myself together in the broken places -- told myself and the girl i was that i loved her and i was going to take care of us and be brave -- and broke the fever ( a little off key like jersey kyle, but very lovely nonetheless; love you tone deaf king. x my sboyf. )

today, i woke up this morning and slept...PEACEFULLY and woke up PERFECTLY HAPPY AND RESTED...

AND SMILED. QUITE. WIDE!!!!~ :D

and that is a baby step, but it is a step in the right direction and also almost wanted to make me weep like a baby again because i literally have not felt happy or like i do not hate myself for like, i shit you not, over like 15-20 days...it was frightening and fucking horrible! SLAY!

nevertheless ( or the most, finally ) i am excited to welcome in a new era/year of change on my blog and within myself; which is an era of peppermint flavored 'hope i'm healing' in a delicious rem(ember) font.

unfortunately, because i nuked my ao3 account, i do not currently one atm, but am in the process of recovering it.

( i'm not condoning any kind of rude/uncivilized behavior bc people are allowed to do anything they want -- but i'd really like to get my user back and would appreciate it a lot if no one used it to create another ao3 account just because it would be confusing for my readers and disheartening to me to not be boxwinebaddie anymore. )

until then, i will be writing/drafting rem(ember) in my messy google docs, am storyboarding everything to the best of my ability ( which is not perfect, but nothing is -- except stan and kyle to each other -- but god loves a trier, which is why he hates me: i prefer hell where it's drier -- that way my girlfail guylinea will not run. xx )

KALE SEITAN! ;)

posting little snippets of it on here for all of you, probably put it here on my tumblr and post it up to ao3 if i can regain my account/one in general ( i am a little worried that because of how long it's been, the loss of all my followers and, what i assume, is a decreased public or tiktok generated interest in sp, it will do poorly; rip </3 )

-- but the point is...that i want to start doing stuff for myself now. and not because i think i should or create unnecessary stress/sadness surrounding my strength or weakness as a writer or person ( or like, beat the living shit out of myself every single day anymore )...

...so i am writing it slowly, carefully, synthesizing all the info i gathered from over a year of answering your questions ( which helped me develop my sp au styles and their worlds into the lovely, seemingly breathing paper machslayed things they are now ), am going to write the fanfiction i always/wanted/ to write ( i’ve always wanted to rewrite RM, but was so busy and overwhelmed with my blog/my irl stuff that i couldn't )

and i'm calling it...

<3

p.s. ( i love you ): i am going to give my grandmother a copy of the first chapter of peppermint for christmas because i wanted to do something special/sentimental for her and secretly push the gay middle school style agenda ( she is actually very woke and thought my uncle might be gay for a while when he was younger, haha xx ), but i want to give them different names, so that on the off chance it gets passed off to my mom, my dad or manages to travel by world of mouth ( my grandma has a tendency to gab, but i love her a lot ) that it can't specifically be traced back to my dead ao3 or my blog.

so if any one has any ideas for silly interesting names i could give my sons, names for other characters or south park in gen. hit me up! <33

thank you for your interest in my work -- and in me, in general. i love you all dearly, i hope you heal ( i know you will ) and smile, pendejos because got a lot coming up on that crimson dawn and a lot of crazy shit coming down on that *jersey i won't say i'm in luh megara vc*

~SCHARLET sLUt~

cheers! mazel! ;) xx

-uncle nina, in her healing era <3

[wildsaltair]

I would kiss Maximus so many times