#SLOW LIKE HONEY. IN PARTICULAR

[bugmistake]

god fiona apple can really write a fuckin song

[screampied]

Sukuna’s tongue on his abdomen. You do the rest 😫

❤︎ ໋𓈒 asking to ride sukuna's stomach tongue while you make out with him

warnings. fem! reader, true form sukuna, riding his stomach tongue, cunnilinguś, dirty talk, praise, mdni.

“. . woman, don’t mumble,” he’d sneer, an arm hooked around your waist. you panted, suddenly feeling small. he sat manspread on his throne, occasionally brushing a thumb against the edges of your hips. dark irises stare you down before he continues to speak in a rough tone. “repeat yourself. and look at me when you speak, i taught you well, did i not?”

your eyes ran down every inch of his body, all down sukuna’s washboard abs before it leers near that particular spot. near the lower part of his torso, where a merely pried open mouth rests. you couldn’t help but ponder to yourself, imagining such raunchy things about the extra mouth that attached towards the outer part of his stomach.

“i said . .” you project your voice slightly, still speaking softly. the air felt thick all around you, you swallow an invisible lump in your throat as you straddle him before sighing. “your extra mouth near . . there,” and you point, watching his dark eyes glance to where you’re referring to. “can— may i sit on it?”

“ah,” he snickers, already knowing you were gonna ask him that anyway. sukuna brings a hand towards his mouth, wiping underneath his nose before humming. “you’re such an odd girl,” and his voice deepens, its pitch sends a plethora of tingles to wander all throughout your body. “you may. but first,” and you stare into his eyes, watching as he grabs your chin, gently skimming his thumb alongside your lip as if he was parting your lips to converse. “say those words for me, pretty please.”

as he runs a thumb against your lip, you stare right into his dark hooded eyes. he slyly smiles at you, his fangs briefly poking out as he awaited for those sweet honeyed words to escape.

“but ryo,” you pout, aware he went by sukuna but you always shortened his name whenever you didn’t get your way right away.

“hmph,” he huffs out a husky breath, raising your chin up slightly as you still sat on his lap. your panties that were already pulled to the side pokes underneath your skirt before you inch closer towards him—closer towards his perfectly sculpted chest. “don’t 'ryo' me, girl. manners, let’s use those today, yeah?”

a long silence occurs before you blow, and he finds your frustration entirely adorable…

“pretty please,” you repeat his words, a cute grumble hidden underneath your tone. “pretty please can you allow me on your s-stomach so i can . .”

“never told you to go into detail, nasty girl,” he chortles, and his deep voice made you throb. such bass in it, it boomed throughout the entire palace.

“mhm . . . but as you wish,” and two big hands grab onto the sides of your waist. with a brief lift, you’re scooted up further against his abdomen where the closed mouth resides. “you’re gonna have to either hold on or i’m gonna have you hold you up, princess.”

“okay,” you suck in a sharp breath, wrapping your cute frail arms around him. he’s got this stare that’s so intimidating—so attractive.

you felt him hold your hips in place, guiding you where to sit. he had to slouch a bit against his throne, and you were finally sat. his eyes pierce into yours and he’s awaiting for your reaction. “how does it work, ‘kuna?”

“heh. oh you’ll see,” he grunts, and then moments later, you feel it — a slow lick that runs straight against your panties. your facial expression was cute, taken aback but cute. it felt like usual, how he’d eat you out whenever, just a tad bit different.

the tongue was a bit more lengthy, you moan once you jerk against him before slumping into his chest. “tell me little one,” he says, holding you with his front arms, kissing the tip of your forehead, another ruffling your hair. “how’s my extra tongue making you feel?”

it was so sloppy, you shudder once you hear a brief slurp commence and your eyes merely roll back.

“g—goooood,” you drag out, and he chuckles at how you start to grind against his abdomen. “it feels good, ‘kuna. don’t s—stop.”

“like i said before, such an odd one you are,” he gruffs lowly. from your sheer pleasure, he found himself getting slightly aroused himself. your sweetened moans going all up against his ear makes him smile. you just couldn’t stay still, the more you felt the tongue lap against your sopping cunt — the more you felt the need to grind against him even further. “is it better than my regular tongue?”

“s-stop talking, ‘kuna,” you whine, being taken over with pure lust. it felt so good—you couldn’t exactly put the feeling into words, but you felt yourself grow hot. it was as if the tongue had a mind of its own. flicking vigorously all between your folds, you profusely twitch. “hold me.”

he snickers, his lower arms gripping onto your waist like velcro.

“oh, how humorous. the human has the nerve to tell me what to do,” and you gnaw on your lip, feeling yourself start to dissolve into a blissful trance. the tongue went in multiple directions, circular and all. it spelled out a plethora of things including the alphabet, all over your pussy. you’ve never experienced anything like it. curiosity did kill the cat after all. “you taste sweet. have you been playing with yourself recently?”

“n— no,” you murmur in a weak voice, knowing you were about to approach your peak soon. it was so quick paced, you barely had time to keep up with your own shortened breaths. your voice sounded so small, it trembled on every word and symbol and he just snickers. “i didn’t.”

“look into my eyes and tell me you didn’t touch yourself,” he utters in a growl, gripping your chin as his lower tongue continued to wander all throughout your folds. you were soaked, the more you rutted your jittery hips against him—you became more and more close. his thumb swipes against your lip before he hums out of amusement. “yeah. go on,” he says after you suddenly grow quiet after eight dreadfully long seconds pass. “girl, i don’t have all day.”

you moan, feeling the licks against your sopping entrance fuel up a longing hunger that stirred up inside you. the tongue was slow, making sure to savor every inch of your honeyed taste. your arms remained wrapping around his broad shoulders before you lean in to kiss him.

“foolish woman,” he titters, pressing a finger against your lips. your eyes stare at his long well trimmed nail before averting back towards him. “if you want a kiss from me, you’d say what i tell you to say.”

the pout that stretches against the corners of your lips never cease, he was impossible.

you felt yourself throb at the countless sensational slurps the extra tongue made, you were panting . . hurriedly chasing your irregular rough breaths to only fail, as if it were some sort of lewd competition.

“f— fine,” you grouse, a pout still on your lips. he raises an eyebrow with a smirk, awaiting for your pathetic words that eventually comes. “i … i touched myself when you weren’t here, ‘kuna.”

“and what exactly was the reason for that?” he jibes.

you glare at him but it falters quickly, your eyebrows furrowing into a sweet curl once you’re about to let out a frenzied teeth shattering orgasm.

“i was bored. you’re always away doing boring king stuff and i just—”

“silly girl,” he cuts you off in a sonorous voice, swiftly shaking his head at you describing his royal devoirs as ‘boring king stuff’. you feel your heart flutter once your cunt clenches. you whimper, a fire igniting within you and your thighs suddenly ached. you felt it coming all too well. it was inevitable, your legs trembled the more the tongue lapped against your pussy at a more quickened speed. “don’t care what your reason is, this pussy’s only for my hands ‘n my hands only.”

alas, you were melting, metaphorically speaking but your entire body felt like it was.

it was so lewd, it’s slurping rang through your ears before moments later . . you jolt forward, feeling your release finally come. you came, a coil within you tightening and snapping before you whimper into his arms.

“s— sukunaaa,” you tremor, and that’s when he finally brings you into a loving kiss.

finally, you sink into his warm embrace, still grinding your hips briefly against the mouth that laid against his lower torso. your mouth pops open, glossed lips parting before you skim your tongue against his. he laughs, a hand of his slithering down your back in such a teasing way. you were still moving despite your entire body resuming to ride out your recent orgasm.

his embrace was soft, caressing the tiny hairs that stood up against your back . . lovingly.

as your tongue ran against his, you felt his fangs and you moan right into his mouth — a hand slowly trailing down his chiseled chest. he groans, deepening the kiss before grabbing your chin, tilting your head forward. foreheads touch briefly and it’s so soft.

you’re rocking back and forth, still pulsing heavily before after a while, he pulls away. you’re out of breath, the tongue still laid against your clit before your droopy hooded eyes stare into him.

“. . awww,” he slyly taunts, noticing your dumb expression. all that just from his extra tongue, he hums to himself once more before tilting your chin. “now now, what do we say afterwards?”

“t- thank you, ‘kuna,” and then you let off a deep sigh. “i love you.”

“mhm,” he rasps lowly, leaning forward to plant another sweet kiss on the top of your forehead. “i love you too, princess,” and then a long pause occurs. you’re staring at him, no words escaping but you look like you were desperately yearning to ask him something. “speak, girl.”

in short pants, you feel near his pecs before stammering out in shy words. “can— can we do that again, pretty please?”

sukuna smirks, his eyes briefly rolling before he cocks his neck. he lets off a low grumble before his eyes linger down towards the slick mess you created on him. “hm. as you wish. this time though, you cum when i tell you. understand?”

“yes, ‘kuna.”

“that’s a good girl.”

[nonushu]

perfect - yoon jeonghan

genre: fluff, light angst (T_T while writing) | wc: 330 | husband!jeonghan x reader a/n: just my husband and i looking back at our wedding memories...

"honey, look at this one!" you giggle, showing him the polaroid.

jeonghan perks from the dining table, seeing you and the scattered pictures in the living room. curious, he makes his way to sit by you, taking the image out of your hand. "are these our..."

"wedding photos that we haven't seen? yeah..."

he scoffs playfully at the polaroid, the memory of soonyoung sobbing in his seat, too fuzzy to remember. whoever took these did no justice to him.

his fingers traced the other polaroids on the table, lingering on a particular one of the two of you. embraced in each other's arms in the middle of the dance floor, smiling like no one was watching.

"you looked beautiful that night," he says, nudging your side.

you leaned into him, cheek pressing onto his arm and eyes shifting to the picture. "you weren't too bad yourself."

he looked down at you with a smirk before tossing the polaroid back onto the table. his hands perfectly molded into yours as he pulled you up from the cushions.

"jeonghan-"

"you know," he whispers, taking you into his arms like that night of your wedding, "i really wished we could've just slow dance together all night."

you raised your brows, "our parents literally recorded like 30 minutes of us dancing."

"yeah, but not like this," he spins you gently, pulling you back into his arms.

"you're so cheesy..." you laugh quietly, melting in his arms.

he shrugs with a teasing smile. "just making up for lost time." his hands tighten around your waist, guiding you in a slow sway that mirrors the memory.

something about no wedding guests, no flashing cameras... just you and him. jeonghan could not have it any better.

"still think i wasn't too bad?" his voice low, lips hovering near your ear.

you shut your eyes, grinning as you rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart like the rhythm of the instrumentals you remember. "no, you were perfect."

a/n 2: this isn't even angst LOL... i;m just gonna miss jeonghan so bad

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (4) [Edging]

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The first session begins and Wanda tests how long she can keep you on edge, before seeing how many times you can cum for her.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, edging, orgasm denial, begging, fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), strap on use (r receiving), spitting, spanking, restraints

note: So this is the fourth installment and finally we have some well earned smut. The way i'm seeing the chapters from now is a different kink or power dynamic, so if anyone wants anything in particular, just leave it in my asks and i can include it, enjoy <3

The Art of Submission - Chapter 4, Edging

Wanda stood before you, your eyes gleaming up at the redhead in nervous anticipation. Everything about this felt so uncontrollably vulnerable, her fully dressed figure making circles around your body dressed in scarlet lace. Her gentle hands kept brushing against your skin, taking her fingertips across the length of your collarbone, dragging them up along your neck, twirling itself in the strands of hair that hung from your bun. 

“You look so perfect,” she hums, her eyes drinking up the sigh of you, “Just sitting there, all mine.” Her glance notices the way your hands sit perfectly flat against your thighs, all she could think about was how you were perfectly written for her. No experience but knowing everything that she would want based on your writing. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as she continues to devour you with her stare.

Wanda glimpses at the untouched plates, then back at you with a sly grin. “Looks like dinner didn’t stand a chance, huh?” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against your waist. “Guess we got a little distracted.” Her eyes flick down to the table, then back up, dark and commanding. "Why don’t you clear the table, sweetheart? I need the space for something else."

Your hands tremble slightly as you begin stacking the plates, each movement deliberate, almost reverent under Wanda’s intense gaze. Her presence makes every action feel charged, like she’s watching your every move, waiting for you to finish. By the time the table is cleared, your pulse is racing, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air.

"Good girl," she murmurs. "Now, up you go.” You do as she says, immediately, not wanting any accusation of hesitation. She just watches you do exactly what she says, all she can think of is how willing your submission is, how corruptible you could be, your words holding every ounce of your experience. She couldn’t wait to watch you break as you realise the intensity of how the things you write about actually feel. “Spread out for me angel.” Wanda encourages, tapping your thighs as you are lying on your back, hands flush against your stomach. 

Wanda noticed your chest rising and falling, your eyes closed and head tilted back. “Colour honey.” 

“Green.” You say in a shaky rasp, and that same dangerous smile plastered itself over Wanda’s face, her fingers coming straight back to your thighs, tracing shapes against your skin, taking her time painfully slow. 

Wanda steps closer, her presence radiating authority as she leans over you, her gaze sharp and hungry. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “But I want to see every inch of you tremble at my touch.”

Her fingers trail deliberately along your collarbone, igniting every nerve in your body. She reaches up to the ties at the back of your neck, her movements purposeful and assured. “Let's get this off you.” she commands, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

She helps you sit up again, fingers brushing the back of your neck as she deftly unties the knot. “Lift your chin for me,” She instructs, her tone leaving no room for argument so you comply, feeling both exposed and electrified by her authority. 

With a practised motion, she pulls the bodysuit loose, the fabric clinging for a moment longer before it begins to fall away. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea how fucking tempting you are,” she breathes, her eyes darkening with lust.

Wanda grips the bodysuit firmly, her fingers brushing your thighs as she pulls it down with tantalising slowness. “Let’s get rid of this completely,” she states, her voice laced with a sultry command.

With one decisive tug, she yanks the bodysuit down, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you entirely bare before her. “There we go,” she declares, her eyes roaming over your body with unabashed desire. “Now you’re exactly how I want you—completely vulnerable.” It was Wanda’s turn to be taken aback by the way your body looks completely undressed. 

Her eyes widen as she takes a moment to look at all of you, your body soft, curves accentuated under the warm glow of the light above you. A slow satisfied smile spreads across her lips and her fingers twitch with the urge to touch you. You feel the heat of her palm as it glides along your side, igniting your skin. “Look at you,” Her voice thick with admiration. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” Her eyes dark with desire, a primal instinct seems to take over as she leans in closer, her face inches from yours. 

Wanda’s gaze roams up to your face, capturing the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. The contrast of your soft features against your bare skin captivates her, and she can't help but admire how your vulnerability fuels her own need.

“Every inch of you is perfect,” she breathes, her voice low and sultry. She reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, her fingers lingering on your cheek, as if tracing the outline of your features. As her hand slides down to your collarbone, her fingertips dance across your skin, exploring the delicate curves before moving lower, brushing teasingly against your breasts. Wanda’s eyes gleam with satisfaction, her expression of pure lust and delight as she takes in the sight of you, completely vulnerable and inviting. Your nipples immediately stand at the feeling of her nimble fingers grazing them softly. She pinches lightly at your painfully erect buds, making your back arch into her touch, a small panting moan escaping your lips before she lets go of you, a surge of fire shooting through your body as the blood is allowed to flow back to your nipples.

Her attention finally draws towards the pool of arousal that was building between your legs, your skin glistening, slick with desire. Wanda purposefully starts to circle the pad of her finger around your hardened nipple, smirking as she sees your wetness grow at just a few gentle touches. She had tried to drag this out for as long as she could, but the sight of your pussy aching, almost trembling, begging to be touched, she couldn’t help but gather your arousal with her finger. You immediately gasp at the contact, your lips turning in on themselves as you wait. 

She begins to do a similar motion that made you break so quickly last time, tapping the top of your clit in an attempt to make you more sensitive to her touch, making you wish she was drawing tight circles. This didn’t seem to matter, your hips immediately buckling upwards in a desperate attempt to gain some level of continuous pressure. 

“You’re already so sensitive honey,” She breathes, a grin tugging at her lips, “I like my pretty girls to stay still for me,” She states in a commanding purr, “Keep your legs open like this princess.” You nod immediately, doing anything to get her where you want her again.

Wanda reaches back over, watching the muscles in your legs quiver in an attempt to do as she asks. This time, the arousal she gathers is used to form slick circles against your clit, a gentle moan tumbling from your lips as you try desperately to keep your legs apart. The heat was building, your core beginning to weaken as Wanda continued the same pressure, same speed against you. 

“Please, Wanda, I need you inside of me.” You sputter, the motions against your clit reminding you of how empty you were. 

“So eager.” Wanda hums, her middle finger pulling away from your clit, curving around your folds and finding itself waiting at your entrance. She waited a few more seconds before slipping it slowly inside of you. It wasn’t a lot, but the weight it held on your desperate body was unlike anything. You let out a high pitched moan at the feeling of her inside of you, her finger gently thrusting into you, each pump and her finger curled up to meet your spot. 

“God you’re so tight for me.” Wanda exclaims, a deepened smirk on her redhead's face as her index finger works its way inside of you, finding the perfect rhythm and perfect pleasure. She can feel you beginning to tighten even more than before, so her other hand finds the same circular motion around your clit that makes you tremble. Your string of moans had become louder and your chest had begun to rise and fall faster. As your body tightens, on the brink of release, Wanda pulls her hand away. “Not yet princess, I think I need to stretch you out a little more first.” You immediately whimper in frustration, exactly what the redhead wanted from you. 

Without a word, Wanda left the room, leaving you with your legs spread, arousal leaking out of you, your core burning from being left on the edge. She re-emerges quite quickly and you tilt your head up to see what she has done. She was holding some rope and a wand, smaller than the usual type, the type that looked like it would be light enough to stay in place. 

“I need you to stay still for me like I asked you, pretty girl.” Wanda warned in response to your hips jolting upwards from the sight of Wanda’s new props. She ties the rope around your waist, looping it carefully around your thighs, securing the vibrator through the small opening that she’d created. 

She doesn’t turn it on immediately, just watching as your cheeks grow red at your new level of vulnerability. “Hands remain on the table.” She orders before immediately sliding her two fingers back inside of you, creating that same relentless rhythm, but this time you could feel the power she was putting in her wrist. Before you have a chance to react to her fingers, she switches the vibrator on to the lowest setting sending shockwaves through your body. Your body was tensing in an attempt to stay as still as you could, but the vibrations were intensifying everything and you could feel yourself getting closer again. 

She pulls out of you, turning the vibrator off just at the right time. She had become so fine tuned to your body already, noticing exactly when your growing orgasm was just reaching its peak. She didn’t say anything this time, just caressing your thighs and feeling the warmth radiating from every inch of bare skin on show to her. 

She barely gives you a chance to recover, switching on the vibrator to which you immediately gasp and whimper underneath her gaze. This time, she thrusts three fingers into you and you moan pornographically at the forceful stretch around her digits. Your thighs tremble, wanting to close, you move them just an inch but Wanda stops everything the moment you even dare to move them. 

Her fingers dig into your jaw, forcefully grabbing your face and turning it towards hers. “Don’t make me angry angel.” She warns, voice low, dark, laced with a stern desire. The desire in your eyes catching her off guard, she’d been so focused on your body that she’d forgotten your youthful innocence and the way you wanted to please her. She let go of your face, instead her hand wrapping firmly around your throat, squeezing the sides briefly as a distant reminder to stay with your legs openly spread. 

With your little slip up she removes the vibrator from its place, a small whine leaving your lips but you’re met with a squinted look and you immediately fall silent. She goes to untie the rope, but she decides to leave it, liking the way it makes you look. Her eyes were glimmering with satisfaction at the sight of your shaking body. She pulls you to the edge of the table by the underneath of your thighs, your skin fires beneath her hands. She begins to place gentle kisses against your legs, leaving trails of her beige lipstick, the once singular prints becoming a long stretch of paint up your thighs. She places an individual kiss against your clit, feeling your hips buckle upwards so she places her hand on your lower stomach, forcing you to stay still. She could tell you were going to need physical restraints in the future, your incessant squirming causing her issues. 

She starts gentle, her mouth finding your leaking arousal, slowly lapping at your soaked entrance before taking her tongue up the entire length of your slit, stopping just before your aching clit. She allows your clit to be taken between her lips, lightly sucking against your bud and you could barely hear yourself moaning with such passion in the heat of it all. She begins to flick her tongue back and forth over your clit, reaching her hand over to allow for her fingers to gather up some of your arousal as she feels your body begin to shake uncontrollably. Your body is hanging on the edge, doing everything you can to not push yourself over the edge. She places one final kiss against your entrance before coming up for a breath. 

“You’re doing so well for such an inexperienced whore.” She growls, her primal instincts taking over, all of your pretty sounds and pathetic squirming making it impossible for her to not allow you to cum over and over, screaming out your name in a gut wrenching attempt to keep ahold of yourself. Wanda moves around the table, allowing her fingers to graze your lips, slowly parting them. 

“Open your mouth,” she commands, her voice low and sultry, sending a thrill down your spine. You hesitate for a moment, the weight of her words settling over you. But the heat in her eyes encourages you to comply. You part your lips slowly, anticipation building as you lean closer, the space between you charged with electric tension.

With deliberate slowness, Wanda brings her fingers to your mouth, the tips glistening slightly as they hover before you. “Good girl. I want you to taste yourself,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. You can’t help but shiver at the authority in her voice, the way it wraps around you like a warm embrace.

She presses her fingers past your lips, the soft warmth of her skin brushing against your tongue. “Just like that,” she murmurs, her breath hitching as you begin to suck gently, your eyes wide with a mix of desire and uncertainty. The taste of you is intoxicating, and as you swirl your tongue around her fingers, you can see the satisfaction blooming in her gaze.

“See how easy it is to submit tp what you want?” she teases, her voice thick with pleasure. Her fingers curl slightly, pressing deeper into your mouth, and you can feel the rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “You’re doing so well, but I need you to beg for it,” she urges, her voice a sultry whisper.

You can feel the tension coiling within you, the need for more bubbling to the surface. “Please, Wanda,” you manage to murmur around her fingers, desperation lacing your words. “I want more.”

A wicked smile spreads across her face, and she withdraws her fingers just enough to tease you, the loss of contact making you whine softly in protest. “I know you want more, baby. But I want you to really earn it. Keep sucking. Show me how much you crave it.”

With that, you dive back in, your lips working hungrily around her fingers, the sensation pushing you further into a state of bliss. Wanda watches you intently, her breath quickening as she revels in the sight of you completely lost in submission.

Suddenly, she thrusts her fingers deeper, the movement swift and demanding. You gag slightly, your throat tightening around her, and your eyes widen with surprise. “That’s it, just like that,” she encourages, her voice low and breathy. “Feel it. Let go of that hesitation.”

Each thrust is deliberate, her fingers stretching you, hitting the back of your throat. You can hear the wet sounds as you try to accommodate her, your body instinctively fighting to breathe. “Don’t pull away,” she instructs, her tone laced with both authority and encouragement. “You’re doing so well for me love. Just breathe through it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to hold back the reflex to recoil, but the thrill of the moment and her praise spurs you on. You look up at her, desperation mixed with a newfound hunger reflected in your gaze. Wanda’s eyes darken with desire, and she leans closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I want to see you choke on my fingers like my pathetic little whore. Let me know how much you want it.”

You moan around her digits, the sound vibrating through your chest, a mix of pleasure and the instinctive urge to push her away. But you can’t. You won’t. All that matters is her, and the intoxicating thrill of submission that flows through you like fire burning straight to your core. The sound of you gagging around her fingers coated in your own arousal was making Wanda’s legs buckle slightly, but she wasn’t going to stop. Once she’d removed her fingers from your mouth, she spread your saliva over your lips and down your chin, letting you be painted in a mix of spit and arousal, your lips still parted, small pants escaping them. 

She went back to her original position, her shoulders budging between your thighs and instead of taking it slow, her tongue immediately attacked your already sensitive and burning clit. Wanda began to find those circles you loved so much with her tongue, hardening her muscle and getting you closer and closer to the edge, quicker and quicker than the times before. She switches out her tongue for her fingers, “You taste so sweet,” she purrs, a wicked grin on her lips, “And look at you, so pathetic and desperate for me.”

You groan, unable to form any words, your body unable to still itself, your back arching for me. So she dives back in, rough and intense, both her tongue and fingers getting you back to that same brink that you had become so familiar with. Just as you’re about to tip over, she pulls back again, a chuckle emitting from her lips in harmony with your desperate whimpers of pure frustration. 

“If you want it,” She teases, her voice dripping with cruelty as you hang on the edge, “You’ll have to beg.”

Wanda, please... touch me again,” you beg, the words spilling out in a breathless rush, the desperation had taken over any ounce of humiliation you feel at begging like this. “I can’t take it. I need your fingers inside me. I need to feel you just one more time, please!”

Wanda’s lips curl into a slow, deliberate smile, and she tilts her head, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Oh, sweetheart, you want me to touch you? You want to feel my fingers again?” She taunts, her tone sultry, each word dripping with seduction.

“Yes!” you cry out, your desperation rising. “I need it, Wanda! I’m so close, just a little more! I promise I’ll be your good little girl. I’ll do whatever you want, just please touch me again!” You arch your back slightly, instinctively trying to draw her closer, your body aching for her touch.

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “You want me to touch you? Beg for it like you mean it. Show me just how much you want it, you can do better than this.” she whispers, her voice a silky promise that sends shivers down your spine.

You swallow hard, your heart racing as you feel the weight of her words. “I need you, Wanda, I can't hold back anymore. I want to feel you again; I want your fingers working me up until I can’t take it anymore! I need you to make me feel good please let me come for you.” Your voice wavers, thick with urgency and need.

Wanda watches you intently, her eyes dark with desire. “That’s more like it,” she murmurs, clearly enjoying your pleas. Your body trembles with anticipation, the overwhelming need coursing through you, begging for her touch. You meet her gaze, your eyes wide and pleading, silently begging her to see just how desperate you are. “But don’t be so ungrateful.” Her voice snaps and she leans over again, her nails digging into your chin as she pushes your head up to meet hers. She prises your lips open between her fingers, slowly drawing a long line of spit from her mouth so it lands exactly onto your tongue. She forces your mouth shut. “Swallow it,” She commands, her eyes locked on yours, “Or I’ll leave you here aching for me.”

You comply happily, swallowing quickly, the taste of her sending another wave of arousal through you. She smirks, grabbing your hand and pressing it against her crotch. You breathe slowly, your eyes widening when you feel a hard bulge underneath her trousers. She was already wearing a strap, and she’d been wearing it the whole time. You swallow again, this time with nerves. She’d made you feel fucked out with just her fingers, her stamina relentless against your trembling body. “Just incase my poor baby became ungrateful and I had to fuck it out of her.” 

Your body responds instantly, arousal doubling between your legs. Wanda continues to tease you once more, she barely circled your clit for thirty seconds before you were at the edge again. Begging wasn’t an option anymore, it was a necessity. 

“Pleas-” 

Her eyes flash with a mix of desire and authority, but something shifts in her demeanour. Your pleading seems to reach a breaking point within her. In one swift motion, she grabs your waist, flipping you over onto the table with an ease that sends a thrill through you.

“Enough of this,” she says, her voice low and commanding. You feel the cool surface of the table against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your core. She unzips her trousers, pulling them down and stepping out of them, she was so deep in her own heat now that her grasps against her own trousers were the least controlled out of any. Wanda positions herself behind you, the unmistakable weight of her strap pressing against you, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. “You need to learn to take what I give you and stop complaining.”

As she slides into you, it’s a seamless invasion, filling you completely. A deep, primal gasp escapes you, a mix of surprise and pleasure as you adjust to the sensation. Wanda holds your hips firm, her grip possessive and reassuring, making sure you’re wholly hers in this moment.

“Now, let’s see just how well you can handle this,” she breathes, her voice sultry and filled with authority. With that, she begins to move, her rhythm deliberate and punishing, igniting every nerve ending within you. “Look at how well you take me,” She pants, forcing your body to meet every hard and rough thrust that she piles into you, your body nothing more than a moaning desperate mess. “You’re made to take my cock, it fits you perfectly.”

Wanda continues to roughly thrust into you, but once she snakes her arm around your body, one hand begins to circle your clit, while the other grips the fistful of hair that you’d bundled atop of your head, pulling you body back to meet her movements. You know you’re dangerously close, but you didn’t want to beg again, you were just praying that she’d stop before you had no choice but to cum all over Wanda’s scarlet red cock. 

“Go ahead,” She says, and your eyes widen at the unexpected permission, “Cum for me, but If you do, I’m not stopping.”

Your body obeys instinctively, breaking under the relentless pressure as your climax crashes through you. You cum hard, your muscles clenching, back arching, but Wanda doesn’t relent. Her thrusts only quicken, her grip on your hips tightening with possessive intensity.

“Don’t think,” she growls low in your ear, her voice dripping with control. “Just keep cumming for me. I’ll do the thinking for you.”

The sharp sting of her palm lands on your ass, a slap that reverberates through you, sending a fresh wave of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine. The sensation tips you over the edge again, your body trembling as another orgasm builds impossibly fast, the intensity leaving you breathless and quaking beneath her. You’d never orgasmed twice in such a quick succession. “Mm, You can cum from just one spank, you’re so pathetic.” She spat at you, pulling out of you quickly, your cunt on fire with sensitivity. 

Wanda flips you onto your back with effortless strength, her movements controlled but purposeful. Her eyes lock on your flushed, tear-streaked face, and a wicked gleam flickers in her gaze. She leans over you, her lips hovering just above yours. “I want to see that pretty face when you break for me,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing gently across your smudged lipstick. Her touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the intense control she exudes.

For a moment, her expression softens as she wipes the mascara-streaked tears from your cheeks, her fingers warm against your skin. It’s a fleeting tenderness that sends a wave of vulnerability through you. Then, without warning, she captures your lips in a heated kiss, her mouth hot and possessive against yours. Her breath mingles with yours as she whispers against your lips, “You’re perfect.”

Her words sink into you, a heady mix of praise and control. You shudder beneath her, the tenderness making you feel even more exposed. Her pace slows as she shifts between your legs, her fingers moving with calculated precision, circling your swollen clit. The sensation burns through you, rising in waves, her touch just enough to push you toward the edge but not enough to tip you over.

“You’re going to keep cumming for me, aren’t you?” she purrs, her voice sultry and commanding. Each word feels like a command you can't refuse, your body already responding to her every touch. “You want to impress me, don’t you?”

You nod desperately, the ache in your core unbearable, every nerve in your body on high alert. A small, satisfied grin tugs at the corner of Wanda’s mouth. “Then thank me. Every. Single. Time,” she orders, her fingers increasing their pressure, drawing tight circles against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

Your orgasm builds, sharp and unstoppable. When it crashes over you, your voice breaks as you gasp, “Thank you,” the words spilling from your lips in a hoarse whisper. Wanda’s eyes glint with satisfaction as she watches you unravel beneath her, but she doesn't stop. Her fingers continue to work you, expertly building you up again. Wanda’s grin grows wider, a mix of pride and control in her expression as she drinks in the sight of you coming apart under her touch.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with praise, her fingers never faltering. She watches every tremor in your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, her gaze filled with a deep, almost possessive satisfaction. “Keep cumming for me. I want you to give me everything.”

You nod frantically, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming intensity, knowing you’ll do anything to keep her pleased. Each time you shatter beneath her, you thank her, your voice growing weaker, more desperate, but Wanda's control over you only deepens, her satisfaction palpable with every broken plea that leaves your lips.

“Colour sweetheart?” She asks in response to your limp fucked out body, you could barely think straight, but you knew one thing, you didn’t want her to stop this ever. 

“Green, so green, oh my god.” Wanda loved the response, gripping your ass and pulling your body up to her face, now balancing your body on your elbows as she holds your pussy up to her mouth. Every single flick of her tongue, every suck that she makes against your clit between her lips was beginning to burn, your body unable to react to any contact anymore.

“It’s okay honey, just one more for me okay.” Wanda coos, feeling your trembling body underneath her harsh grip against your thighs, her nails still digging in, it would definitely leave a mark. “I just want to see you cum against my tongue like my dirty little slut one more time.” She’d become addicted to watching you cum, the way her name would tumble from your lips in a gut-wrenching plea for the session to be over. 

You give it to her, the time between your orgasms had gotten continually shorter, and now even though every part of your body was resisting the harsh swipes of her tongue against your clit, each swirl she took against your arousal, you could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, not able to stop it even if you wanted to. 

When you came, you came hard, Wanda’s name escaping your lips in a scream as your body went into complete overdrive. You couldn’t stop the shaking and the squirming as you writhe around with the intense amount of pleasure that shot through your body. Finally, Wanda lets you come back down, your body trembling with exhaustion. Her touch turns soft, soothing, as she pulls you up into her arms, perching on the table in order to cradle your trembling figure. “Thank you.”

“You did so well for me,” She whispers, kissing your temple. Her fingers undo the bun that was already half out from all the manhandling. Now she can drag her nails through your hair as she holds you, grounding you back after the intensity of the session. She grabs you a blanket from the sofa behind her, wrapping you carefully up like her little present. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart,” She states with confidence, her cheeks glowing as she whispers endless praises into your ear. 

“That was incredible Wands, I really want to be yours, in any way that you want me.” You say honestly, your voice still wobbling as you warmed up under the blanket. “I never want to stop.”

“We don’t have to pretty girl, you will be mine for as long as you wish to be.” She says honestly, placing a kiss against your temple, “You’re proving to be an exemplary little one, hm.” You smile at her praise, snuggling your head into the crook of your neck while Wanda reaches for a glass of water for you. “Rest now baby, I’ll take care of everything.” 

She waits for you to be ready before getting up and setting some pillows down on the sofa for you to finally relax properly, which you immediately take her up on. She hovers around you, not knowing where your limits lie in terms of aftercare, not wanting to break any boundaries. 

“Are you joining me?” You ask innocently, opening up your arm and offering her a place to sit and cuddle into you. She looks hesitant at first, nervous about breaking any of her limits, but the way you’re sat huddled in a blanket, those innocent puppy dog eyes that she couldn’t resist. She sits down next to you, the sofa dipping at the weight and goes to put her arm around you. You push her away, pulling her in and watch as her cheeks flush pink as you squeezed her arm. “Is this okay?”

“I love it.”

[6esiree]

TRICK OR TREAT🎃

I know you already know what I'm going to ask for, but I'd like Lucifer smut pretty please🙏🏻💋

Love you🫶🏻

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

⊹ To be the King of Hell—that wasn't a role Lucifer took on so eagerly after he found himself casted out of Heaven alongside his first wife. However, if it wasn't for Lilith's ambition and staunch determination to make the most out of their newfound reality, he had to admit that he would have never had the privilege to fulfill each and every one of his desires in the first place.

⊹ Falling in love with a sinner wasn't something that Lucifer was fond of... well, at least not until he realized that you didn't live up to his hasty generalization. When he became acquainted with you, he understood that God hadn't been any less fair with you than he had been with him; and as much as it made him upset, Lucifer secretly thanked the heavenly lord for being so particular.

⊹ He was a selfish man, but how could you complain about the Sin of Pride's eagerness to fulfill his own desires when it only became apparent in your passionate sessions together? When he had you writhing and moaning underneath him, your nails haphazardly raking down the expanse of his sweat-stricken spine as his cock glided in and out of your cunt in slow, deep thrusts?

⊹ And it's not like Lucifer put his pleasure above yours—no, not at all! In fact, with the way he pounds you into the mattress in a mating press—which is very much purposeful—the head of his cock driving into that velvety spot within your gummy walls and his pelvis simultaneously rubbing against your swollen clit, you're crying out his name and coming undone just as much as him.

⊹ Lilith refused to give him anymore children, but you? You were more than willing to give him what he wanted if you could, which was what God stripped you of upon your untimely demise: the ability to conceive children. That was a right only reserved for winners. However, with Lucifer's almost limitless power and his need to breed you, he would be more than willing to rebel against God again.

"Hi, there! What are y'all supposed to be?" You adoringly cooed at the imp children dressed in their silly little costumes, your hand rummaging through the bucket of candy all the while. "Humans, you say? Oh! ...wait, is that blood on your wig?"

⊹ The only reason why Lucifer wasn't handing out candy alongside you was because Charlie asked him to help him decorate the hotel, which he could easily achieve with a mere snap of his fingers. But when his beloved daughter insisted that they do it the traditional way in an attempt to bond with one another, how could he possibly say no? Still, he kept a watchful eye on you.

"Remember when I used to take you trick-or-treating?" Lucifer randomly blurted out amidst the comfortable silence, and even as he turned away from the window to look at Charlie, she could tell he had a faraway look in his eyes. "I miss it."

⊹ Observing how you interacted with all the children who approached you with their big, toothy grins and makeshift baskets only exacerbated that need he had to breed you, to make sure that you were round and heavy with his child. It took all of his strength and willpower to not excuse himself—to not succumb to the overwhelming urge to drag you away to his room.

⊹ Rest assured that after everybody retired for the night, Lucifer dragged you to his room and laid you down in that position you were so familiar with, your plush lips parting with a squeal as he unfastened his pants and pushed your legs against your chest with a singular hand. While his movements were lacking his usual tenderness and grace, the roughness of it all admittedly excited you.

"Fuck, Luci, are you alright?" You gasped as the head of his cock parted your folds, but you were already slick with the anticipation of getting fucked. "Did Alastor say something to you or—"

"I just need you, honey—I need to make you a mother," Lucifer admitted, his cock throbbing inside of you already, but only because he was imagining how it'd be to fuck you while pregnant. "To Hell with God."

⊹ Before you could remind him that you couldn't bear children, he snapped his hips forward rather passionately, whatever 'But's' or 'What if's' dying on your tongue. Lucifer was kind enough to be slow and gentle at first, but as soon as your walls felt more relaxed around his cock, he drove into you with a force that communicated just how serious he was about impregnating you.

⊹ You were so stuck on the logicality behind the question of whether he'd be able to achieve what he wanted to achieve, but that was until he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours in a kiss as you felt his hips slow down and stutter, his cock twitching inside of you. Of course, you returned the kiss, but the way he painted your womb with his cum felt different than all the other times he had filled you up.

"That should do it, but uhh, I think we should go at it a couple more times in case—stop looking at me like that! Look, if you conceive right now, we can dress the baby up in a duckie onesie next Halloween!"

[dollyhao]

succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie

summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.

toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.

cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words

༊*·˚

ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.

she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?

ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.

“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.

“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.

“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.

after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.

she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.

you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.

you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.

you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.

you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.

you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”

she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.

you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.

you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.

ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.

you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.

“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.

༊*·˚

I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.

signed: ellie williams

[lulunothulu]

Loovveee your writing. 😍 Would you be able to write where reader and Tyler are married and he’s out running errands when he gets notified from her Apple Watch that she’s taken a hard fall because she was thrown from a horse and 911 was called so he drives as quick as he can home to her driving through their gate trying to get to her faster and she’s unconscious and bleeding from a cut on her head and just worried husband vibes until she wakes up and is fine 💙

Oooo I love this. I gotchu boo 🤠 and thank youuuu I’m so sorry this is late 💗

“Don’t worry”

Tyler Owens x Reader

“Let me check the list because if I miss something, my wife is gonna have a fit.” Tyler laughs, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket.

He’d been tasked by you with getting groceries and knew you were particular about what kind of apples you liked.

When he finally pulls the list out, he hands it to the worker before him who smiles and points him to the section where the honey crisp apples are.

“Thank you!” He calls out, steering the buggy toward the section and grabbing a plastic bag to collect the four apples you wanted.

He’s about to put the last apple in the bag when he gets a notification from your AppleWatch.

‘My Wife 💗’ has fallen and their breathing has slowed down significantly. 9-1-1 has been called and they are 10 minutes out.

Tyler’s heart stops.

Within seconds, his legs are moving, sprinting out of the store the buggy full of groceries left behind.

He’ll come back another time. Right now, he had to get to his wife. He had to get to you.

He knew he was only five minutes away, but he let his foot hit the accelerator. Anything to get to you quicker.

When he finally—painstakingly—arrives at y’all’s house, your horse, Sugar, is galloping around the front yard, neighing happily to herself. He reaches for her, gently pulling her close.

“Where is she?” He asks her. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he jogs to the training ring to the right of the house where he finds your lifeless body.

He sprints at the sight of you, fear taking over all of his thoughts and he brushes the random strands of hair covering your face.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “Oh my god. Baby? Can you hear me?”

He checks your pulse.

Good, steady but kind of weak.

Your breathing is slow, almost too slow for his taste. Your face is relaxed in unconsciousness and there’s a pretty bad gash on your forehead and the back of your head.

Tyler knows not to move you so he holds your hand, waiting and praying that the ambulance hurries.

The next five minutes feel like hours but the paramedics finally arrive.

“I think she fell and hit her head on the ground or a rock,” Tyler tells them.

He watches from the side as they take your vitals and get you ready to transfer to the ER.

“Do you want to ride with her?” One of the paramedics asks.

“No, I’ll follow behind in my truck,” he tells them.

———

At the hospital, Tyler looks down at you from his standing position next to your bed.

How could this have happened? When is she gonna wake up?

He rubs his eyes, checking his watch again to see that it’s almost 10 PM. he’s been here for the past few hours, waiting for you to wake up.

Unfortunately, for him, the doctor said that it might take a bit for you to wake up, especially because of the fall you took.

“She’ll wake up when she’s ready,” they said.

“When?” He’d asked.

“Within a few hours. She has a concussion so she needs to rest as much as she can.”

The waiting was the hardest part for him. He hated just standing around. He needed to do something, anything to make sure you were okay, to help you wake up. Worry begins to eat at him the longer he stays in the hospital room with you so Tyler decided it would be best to go to the cafeteria.

Only when he’s about to walk out the door, he hears you groan.

“Tyler?”

“Baby,” he cries, running back to your side. He takes your hand in his, kissing each knuckles before smiling down at you with happy tears stuck in his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Am I in the hospital?”

“Yeah,” he tells you, wiping his eyes. “What happened?”

“I was trying to give Sugar a little test run before the next race and she got spooked by a garden snake,” you recount. “I must’ve hit my head on a rock or something.”

“You did,” he tells you, voice quiet. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You look up into his green eyes and smile softly. Placing your hand on his cheek, you pull him down to kiss you.

The kiss is sweet and tender, something Tyler didn’t know he knew he needed until then.

“I love you, Ty,” you tell him.

“I love you too, Baby,” he hiccups, tears freely falling now. “You really did scare me. I didn’t know if you would be okay. If you’d d—”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Instead, he smiles down at you and kisses you again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says instead.

“I am too,” you tell him. Then, smirking a bit, you add, “I would be pretty pissed if I died from falling off a horse.”

Tyler laughs at that. “I would be too.”

“When can I eat? And when can I leave?” You ask. “But most importantly, when can I eat?”

“Doctors said he wanted to keep you overnight,” he tells you. “I can get you something to eat if you want.”

“Okay, as long as it’s something filling. I have t eaten since… what time is it?”

“10:30 PM,” he tells you.

“Jesus Christ, since 8 AM this morning,” you marvel.

Tyler laughs, pecking your lips before standing. “I’ll get you a nice fat sandwich.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You watch as he walks away before saying, “And Tyler?”

He turns around. “Yes baby?”

“Walk slower, your ass looks really nice in those jeans.”

Tyler only laughs and obeys as he walks out the door.

[ataliagold]

you're the only one who knows, you slow it down

For @astrangersummer week 13 prompts 'cat' and 'farmers market'. Title from Look After You by The Fray. And yes, I watched A Quiet Place Day One and was obsessed with Frodo...

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1791

Tags: Modern AU, No Upside Down, First Meeting, Steve has PTSD, Steve has a service cat, Steve wears glasses, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, panic attacks, Eddie takes care of Steve, referenced child abuse, autistic Steve (not overly relevant here but still)

Summary: Eddie's at a farmers market when he's approached by a very determined black and white cat. On a whim, he follows him to a young man having a panic attack in the woods.

___

Eddie’s browsing the little jewelry stand at the far end of the Farmer’s Market, glancing over hand-made leather bracelets and cheap silver rings while the old lady behind the table watches him hopefully. Over a blare of emergency sirens from the street in the distance he can hear Wayne behind him bartering with someone who’s wanting to buy one of his plants, the plants Eddie had been roped into carting there from the van in boxes that were too fucking heavy and he’d been drenched in sweat almost immediately under the summer sun.

He looks up briefly, regrets it immediately because the vendor’s eyes light up and fuck now he’s gotta buy something…

He’s interrupted by something soft brushing against his ankle.

Hanging up a black leather band, he looks down. Blinks a few times, confused.

There’s a black and white cat butting its little head against his leg. The cat stares back up at him with yellow eyes, wide and imploring.

“Uh….hi?” Eddie says, moving his leg away a bit because he doesn’t really do cats, has never interacted with them much before to be fair, other than the feral ones that hung around the trash in the trailer park and those weren’t exactly…friendly.

This guy is far cuter and cleaner than those cats ever were, though.

He’s got a maroon collar with a tag attached, and a red harness with a loose lead trailing behind him.

The cat steps closer to Eddie. Insistent now, shoving his face into his ankle again, then lets out an imploring meow.

“Where’s your owner?” Eddie asks to no one in particular, swiveling his head and surveying his surroundings. He sees fruit stands with enormous oranges, a honey stall, someone selling flowers off to his right, a small crowd browsing the wares but no one that looks like they’ve lost a black and white cat.

The cat meows again.

Eddie stoops down, gingerly reaches for its collar, reads the tiny writing on the tag in hope of some owners’ details.

Frodo - service cat

And Eddie had heard of service dogs, sure, but a cat?

A great name though, he admits.

He squints at the phone number etched below the name. Pulls out his phone, dials it. All the while Frodo meows at him, slams his head more forcefully into Eddie’s shin.

The call rings out to a voicemail, a guy called Steve in the message.

Eddie hangs up. Sighs, carefully pats the cat with a single finger on his head.

“You’re kinda cute, huh?” Eddie murmurs. “Someone’s missing you, for sure.”

He stands up again. Frodo moves several steps away, stops, stares back at him.

A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head.

He takes a step towards the cat. Frodo squeaks out a noise that seems happy to Eddie, and he steps even closer.

Frodo turns tail and trots off away from the market, and Eddie follows, Frodo glancing back every now and then to check Eddie’s still with him.

And so, the cat leads him towards a little copse of trees on the far side of the park. It’s pretty deserted out here, with most people busy browsing the market instead of taking their morning walks.

But as they get closer to the clearing in the middle of the trees, Eddie hears it.

Light gasps, panicked breathing, someone trying to suck in oxygen that just won’t come.

He quickens his step towards it. Frodo speeds up too, breaking away from Eddie now and bounding into the trees.

There’s a young man sitting in the dirt.

His knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, and he’s rocking back and forth a little. His cheeks are wet, eyes clenched shut behind crooked glasses.

Eddie drops to his knees beside the man, hand hovering above his shoulder, not sure whether or not to touch because he knew a thing or two about panic attacks, knew this was what he was seeing, didn’t want to frighten the man and make it worse…

Frodo presses himself up against the man’s side, trills quietly. The man shifts, blindly reaches for the cat, unfolds himself a bit and hauls the animal into his lap, burying his face in warm fur.

“…hi,” Eddie says quietly, barely audible, clears his throat and tries again. “Hi. I’m…I’m Eddie.”

The man goes still. Freezes, noticing Eddie for the first time. He peeks out from behind Frodo’s head, blinking up at Eddie, eyes red and sore-looking but also honey-brown and soft. He’s got moles dotted across his cheeks, hair long and mussed and falling across his face.

He’s fucking gorgeous, Eddie’s brain supplies.

He forces that thought away – it’s not exactly helpful right now.

“Are you Steve?” Eddie guesses.

A small, singular nod.

“I found your cat,” Eddie supplies. “Or…he found me, I guess. Led me here. He’s pretty clever.”

“He’s the b-best,” Steve croaks, his voice raspy and rough and broken. “He’s a service cat. But you can…you can go, s’fine.”

Eddie frowns, shakes his head. “I’m thinking he came and got me for a reason, huh?”

Steve looks away, shrugs.

Eddie waits, gives him time to answer, but Steve doesn’t speak again. He hugs his cat to his chest, still lightly trembling all over.

“How about…I sit here for a few minutes, and you take some deep breaths, huh? I’m thinking you’ve had a panic attack, and those suck – trust me, I know – but you need to get your breath back, ok?” Eddie reaches for Steve, hand ghosting over his shoulder now.

Steve flinches lightly, but doesn’t pull away.

Frodo purrs away calmly in Steve’s lap, letting his owner squeeze him close.

And Eddie sits, and waits.

He remembers his own panic attacks as a kid, after he’d wake up from a nightmare about his dad – where he swore the stench of alcohol was in his room, when his dad was surely just outside his bedroom door, all tension wound tight and clenched fists and ready to unleash a barrage of abuse at him. His uncle Wayne would step quietly into his room, would gather him up and hold him tight, would talk to him quietly about everything and nothing all at once until Eddie drifted peacefully back to sleep.

As the minutes tick by, Eddie starts to talk.

“I don’t know much about cats, but yours is pretty clever,” he murmurs, rubbing circles across Steve’s broad back, over the soft yellow sweater he was wearing. “He came right up to me, no idea why he picked me out of a crowd of nice old ladies at the market, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, he insisted on getting me to you. I guess that’s his job, right? Just like how some service dogs are trained to go and get someone if their owner is in trouble? I used to have this neighbour, this girl called Max, she had some disabilities after a car accident, and she had a dog who was trained to do that sort of stuff. But you’ve got Frodo.”

Steve’s breathing is evening out, his shoulders untensing slightly as Eddie speaks.

“Badass name, by the way,” Eddie continues, chuckling a little. “I’m guessing you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, then. So am I. In fact, it’s probably my favourite -”

“Not a fan,” Steve mumbles.

Eddie pauses mid-sentence. “…oh,” he finishes lamely.

Steve shifts a little, the tiniest smile twitching at his lips.

Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest at the sight of it.

“This kid I used to babysit, his name’s Dustin, he picked the name,” Steve clarifies, his voice a little clearer now, a little less forced. “It just kinda stuck.”

“It suits him,” Eddie assures him, reaching a hand out to the cat. He quickly snatches it back, remembers Max telling him over and over that you weren’t supposed to pat a service animal when they’re working. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean to…well. He’s working.”

Steve smiles, wider now.

Eddie blinks slowly at him, feeling stupid and warm and weak for this man.

“You can pat him,” Steve says quietly, just above a whisper. He unfolds his legs, loosens his grip on Frodo just a little, giving Eddie room to reach across to the cat.

Eddie grins as his fingers find soft fur. He traces over Frodo’s head and the cat purrs louder, pressing back into his hand.

Steve watches, tears drying on his cheeks. He lifts his glasses, rubs at his eyes, then straightens them again.

“It was the sirens,” he says, a little choked up still.

Eddie nods slowly, continues to pat Frodo.

“Over on Main Street, I think, I was walking past and they were really loud, and then more and more started and then there was that fire engine too and all the flashing lights and…”

Eddie heard it earlier, too. Some crash near the park, the ladies at the market had gossiped amongst themselves.

“…and I tried to move away, but they were everywhere so I went into the trees and that was a little better but I could still hear them, and I know it’s fucking stupid but some stuff happened to me a few years back and now every time I hear them…” Steve trails off, snaps his mouth shut. Runs his hand rhythmically down Frodo’s back, almost meditatively now. “Sorry. S’dumb. But…I’m ok now, I think.”

Eddie splays his free hand across Steve’s back. Thinks about how much he’d like to pull Steve to his side, bundle him close, wrap himself around him…but they’ve only just fucking met.

He needs to calm down.

“It isn’t dumb,” Eddie insists gently, “I used to get them too. Panic attacks. I get it, ok? I’m just glad you’re ok now.”

Steve smiles at him, wobbly and weak but there.

“Thanks,” he says softly, “for following Frodo. And for…staying.”

Eddie returns his smile. Reaches for the man’s hand, clasps it, helps him to shaky feet.

Steve doesn’t let go of his hand.

They linger there, under the shade of the red maple trees, neither saying anything for a long moment.

Frodo sits at their feet. Blinks up at them, meows eventually.

Steve picks up Frodo’s lead, one hand still in Eddie’s, fiddles with the red canvas cord.

Eddie’s heart beats faster.

“Do you…wanna come and look around the stalls?” he asks quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not held securely in Steve’s, thinks he’d be happy if he could never use that hand again, so long as Steve kept a hold of it.

Steve smiles again, bright as the sun, and nods.

Slowly, he follows Eddie out of the clearing and back into the light of the day.

___

[themilfsland]

Lemme taste my bee-sweetenin’

Pairing(s): Cowgirl farmer Wanda x fem!reader

Summary: a daily life with your cowgirl farmer girlfriend and how you deal with her little obsession.

content: Top Wanda (she denies her bottom vibe), bottom Reader (until Wanda changes her mind), teasing, praising, pet names, mention of punishment, food playing (?), smut, denying, oral kink.

The best-known honey farmer, living in a small and cozy ranch with her girlfriend. But it's not only the pure and sweet honey syrup that is famous, everyone from the village knows how delicious and fresh her handmade honeybuns are. All too ordinary from the neighbors' views, maybe because they don't know the peculiar things about your life as a couple.

Wanda is obsessed with you. To be more specific, she is obsessed with your taste. It's not a surprising matter for you since you figured out she has an oral kink. Every time she bakes her handmade honeybun she asks for your help to try the fresh honey. Although, she never gives you a spoon to do it. The first time you waited for her to hand you the tool to try the honey, but she never did. You get it now. Dipping your finger into the bowl to get some of the syrup then taking it into your mouth to taste it, your eyes straight to hers, never losing her gaze. And it's always the same dialogue.

Wanda: and...? Is it good, sugar?

Y/n: hmmm it's delicious.

Wanda: ya sure? Hmm let me try some.

You keep with the tradition, your finger getting more honey from the bowl, directing it to her mouth, making a little mess on her lips as if you're applying lipstick with your finger, you feel her heavy breath before she runs her tongue over her lips to clean it. Mesmerized by her slow movements, she knows she's always teasing you.

But Wanda wants more and you never deny to her. Honestly, this is what she has been waiting for all this time. Your finger inside her mouth. The sweet taste mixing with the filling you are giving to her with your finger drives her mind dizzy. Usually, you let her play the way she wants, circling her tongue around your finger and sucking it at her own pace. Still, sometimes you like to tease her too, holding her jaw with your fingers pressing firmly on her cheeks while your index finger is inside her mouth, still sticky with honey, making deep in and out movements. The eyes full of pleasure and the muffled moans she gives to you cause your sore core to drip every time.

You love this side of Wanda. The way you encouraged her to let this desire flourish she doesn't even need to use an excuse to taste something from your fingers anymore, she just takes your fingers. In fact, her need to feel and taste you made your entire body an aim. It's so hot and lustful but still so vulnerable from her. You state that because you know how Wanda likes to have control and she makes you very aware of that, especially when you start forgetting your place.

The weekends have a special routine for you and Wanda. In other words, you have a particular rule to follow. No panties. You thought it was just a temporary teasing from her but you learned with some punishments it's a serious rule to follow, and one of her favorites.

-

Another Sunday morning waking up with the smell of coffee and pancakes, or flapjacks as she likes to call. You smile spontaneously, stretching out on the bed but not lying that you wish a little to have the warmth of your girlfriend's body beside you. It was really hard for you, in the beginning, to get used to her early bird clock, but what could you complain? She is a determined farmer, the best, your cowgirl.

Leaving your thoughts behind, you get up still sleepy and follow her rule, took off your panties, and put the pajamas shorts back on. Following that appetizing smell, you go down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Her gaze catches you immediately when you enter the room, she gives you a soft smile and a welcome "Good morning, my sleepy bunny". Even with the smooth tone she used, you noticed how her hungry eyes scanned over your entire body, you felt as if you are undressed. Well, almost like that, the white pajamas that you are wearing with cute strawberries stamped on it was a gift that she gave you weeks ago, comfortable but maybe a little small for your regular size. And It's obvious Wanda does that on purpose, but you honestly don't mind, you like the way she cares about picking out your clothes once in a while.

You walk towards her embrace, it's definitely your favorite place to be, in her arms. She gives a soft kiss on your cheeks before she snuggles her face in your neck, smelling your sweet scent, maybe she's addicted to it too.

Wanda: Did you sleep well, sweetpie?

She asks while picking some shy kisses on your neck making you shiver a little.

Y/n: Yes, I did! But I missed you in our bed when I woke up, you know...

You start feeling the warmth of her body running through your clothes and you wonder why she's always this hot. You have to adjust yourself when you felt her fingertips patting your arm.

Wanda: Ohh I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, but see, I had to leave bed early to make all these good treats to my pumpkin.

Seeing all those yummy foods on the table makes your mouth water and thinking it became her routine of always doing this, only for you, your heart melts.

Y/n: Well, it sounds like an acceptable excuse, also the smell is sooo good. I may forgive you…

Wanda: It's all for you, sugar....and you're all for me.

She whispers the last sentence while her hand traces the way to your breast, still over your t-shirt she grabs and squeezes gently, just to take a moan from your mouth. Her lips pressed your neck and you can feel that she gave a sly smile with that. You feel the pressure of her thumb rubbing on your nipples, the fine fabric of your t-shirt brushing your skin, the overstimulation is already too much for you to think.

Before she gives you a short break, she makes sure to press her fingers over your upper breast, exactly the spot where she left some of her marks days ago. "I have to map your body with my mouth and make spots in your skin where I'm gonna hide my little treasures" is what she says. And well, she truly does a good job by that. Your thoughts are cut off by her teasing voice and her hand lowering until she holds firmly your ass.

Wanda: but you know, there is one ingredient that is left here.

You know exactly what she's referring to, but you like to play the dumb role, genuinely this is what she's expecting you to do too, she loves when you use your words.

Y/n: hmm really? What would this ingredient be then?

Wanda: It's the honey, my honey, actually.

She says softly, her hand that once was in your ass now is putting the soft material of your shorts to the side, and you give a low whimper due to her act. You only realize how soaked you're when she touches your sensitive folds, her fingers exploring your pussy with slow movements to dampen it with your arousal.

Wanda: oh darlin', you're so wet for me already.

You moan louder than you are expecting by hearing that. She is close to getting what she wants.

Wanda: But I need more, pumpkin, you know that, right? Your soaked and throbbing pussy to taste. C'mon, give me what I want.

That's her game. She noticed a long time ago how her praisings and teasing words cause over you, so she always takes advantage of that. The more she says the more you get wetter, it's like a magic trick she played on you and an infinity source of your taste to her.

Wanda: Lemme taste my bee-sweetenin’, hm?

Your wish is to beg her to thrust her fingers right inside you, but you know it would be in vain. It's her ritual, she presses her fingers harder on your clit, and it's the sign that they are wet enough. You are only able to whine louder and try to keep your legs straight. Then she tastes you. Licking her fingers close to your face just to give you the best view of her tongue taking every drop of your arousal.

Wanda smirks when you bite your own lips and set your hands on her waist. The aching between her legs is the manifestation that she needs more of you. She takes your hands off her and gets down on her knees while making you lean on the counter and spread your legs. The fabric of your pajamas is so soft that she doesn't even bother to take your shorts off, instead, she puts them aside, again, she loves it when your mess makes your clothes sticky.

You whimper when you feel her breath close to your skin, leaving soft kisses on your inner thigh until her lips touch superficially your damped folds, just for teasing you. Her tongue presses for a space, then she traces a path from your cunt to your clit. You don't know if the wetness you feel is her saliva or your arousal anymore, it's all messy and soggy.

Her patience starts to fade when she intensifies her movements, grabbing firmly your thighs to spread even more your legs, your hand threaded through her hair. She thrusts her tongue inside you, taking your arousal to your entrance until you feel you're almost dripping. You angle your hips and pull her head toward you, seeking more contact with her mouth, you need her deeply and faster inside you.

Y/n: ughh faster Wanda, do your job with your mouth.

She stops immediately and looks up to you.

Wanda: what did you just say?

Y/n: ohh no no, I.. I- I just need you.

A heavy regret covering all your thoughts. You know your place, you have to do what she says and take what she gives, it's not that difficult. You are just pathetic to think that she could give some control to you for once. Well, maybe one day, but not today.

Wanda: I don't like the tone you used to me.

Y/n: I know, I'm sorry, Wanda, please.

Already on her feet, she stares at you with disappointed bitter eyes. You start begging her, shy whimpers coming through your mouth when you try to adjust your shorts that she didn't even bother to put back in place.

Wanda: hush your mouth, Y/n. You only take what I give to you and for now you're going to receive nothing.

This Saturday you didn't help Wanda to cook the honeybuns. Actually, she didn't even ask you to do it. She ignored all your direct looks, but you knew she was watching you through the kitchen window when you were cleaning the garden. You felt her gaze on your neck, her distant thoughts planning the best punishment for your bad behavior early. You interrupted her honey tasting and now you will pay for it.

Those soft hands that once were baking those delicious sweet buns will be hard on you tonight.

[dumbification]

picture this, it’s been a long day—and you’ve gone crazy without him, desperately in need of release. you’re on your knees, at his mercy, whining and pleading as you unbuckle his pants, begging to be fucked so good you can’t even stand. but he had something else in mind. so here you are—cockwarming with boothill while he's vibrating.

you shuffle in your seat as you’re straddled in his lap, legs already trembling at the accelerating vibrations deep inside your cunt. you’ve used a vibrator before, but you’ve never.. fully put it inside. it’s a whole new sensation.

you attempt to move around his cock, lazily grinding against his hips. but to your dismay, he holds your hips in place—firmly. “let it do the work, sugarplum.” you whimper against his neck, leaving trails of kisses everywhere. he returns the favor, sucking on your neck, making sure it would leave marks. your hands are in his hair, tugging at the roots, encouraging him to go on.

your head throws back to give him more access, just like he asked you to. your back arches when he sucks at a particular spot on your chest, and even more of your arousal drips everywhere. he squeezes your ass for every squelch of your soaked cunt around his cock, unimaginable amounts of slick trickling down his thighs.

he could feel the tightening of your walls around him, and the way your legs tightly wrapped around him—you were gonna cum. “go on.” he presses a kiss against your temple.

you came, and you came hard. your cum gushed out like honey, making a mess on his lap.

you murmured and mewled his name, panting and sighing in breathlessness. “f..feels good.” his lips crash into yours, sucking and biting at what they could. you moan in his mouth when his hand traces the curve of your back. you broke the kiss to catch your breath. “yeah?” he wipes the corner of his mouth.

“yeah.” you smile, that smile quickly turning into a pout. “can i move now?” you shudder at his touch as he runs his hand through your hair. he lets out a hoarse chuckle and hums against your skin. “take it slow, sugar.”

[ddejavvu]

Hi!!! How are you? I just wanna share an idea I had while watching criminal minds a couple of days ago. Spencer's rambling about something, and his girlfriend just tells him to shut up🥺 but it's because she's having a migraine or a headache and idk he ends up taking care of her and it's so very sweet (yes I struggle with migraines)

Spencer's used to the words from just about everyone else in his life. JJ will groan, throwing in a laugh like that makes it better, and plead, "Shut up, Spence,". Rossi won't look up from his paperwork, his voice dry as he drawls, "Shut up." It might be the phrase that Derek says most to him, whenever Reid manages to prove him wrong with a particular statistic: "Oh, shut up, pretty boy."

But he's not used to hearing it from you, in your voice. When he does, when you bury your face in your pillow and groan, "Shut up!" He falters, stuttering to a halt in the middle of the phenomenon he'd been explaining.

He's not a medical doctor, but he's certain that this severe of a chest ache should not go unmonitored. He muscles it down, swallowing it, "What?"

"My head hurts," You whine, and some of the ache lessens, like sand swept away by a wave, "And- and I just need it quiet, Spence, can you please turn off the tv? You can finish telling me about radiocarbon dating later."

Oh, Spencer breathes deeply, you're hurt. That's why. That's okay.

"I'm sorry, honey," He's able to get his voice to not wobble, even though mere seconds ago, he wasn't sure he'd be able to speak at all. He switches off the television and sets the remote down gently so that it doesn't clatter against the nightstand, easing down onto the mattress and reaching out a tentative hand to stroke your shoulder.

"Is that better?" He murmurs, and little by little, your perceived annoyance with him and his subsequent heartache eases away and in its place comes concern.

"A little," You nod, shying away from his touch, "Just- m'too sensitive to cuddle, Spencer. Sorry. Can we just go to bed?"

He nods, then remembers you can't see him where your eyes are scrunched shut, "Mhm. Lemme- uh, lemme get you some water for tomorrow morning."

"Thanks," You whimper, hit with another wave of nausea-inducing head pain. Spencer hurries to the kitchen, previously racing heart now slow and steady as he assumes the role of caretaker. Whatever little shred of Spencer's soul was still wounded after misunderstanding your request is soothed when he hears your voice, croaky and weak, call out a, "Love you, Spence." as he leaves the room.

He doesn't call back to you, refusing to raise his voice louder than he has to. But he replies when he's back in bed, pressing a feather light kiss to your flushed forehead and whispering, "Love you too, angel."

[leclerckiss]

milk & honey ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, established relationship, fluff.

a/n: this is my first uploaded piece on my new blog so please interact, would very much be appreciated.

It is a gentle afternoon in the principality of Monaco: the skies a palette of pale lilac against the quilt of grey clouds in gentle rainfall that lingers with a hint of petrichor, a slow and familiar hustle amongst the streets of smooth stone and Belle Époque architecture where a stray cat wanders her path before disappearing once more into the alcoves of an alley.

After a slow dawn of waking amongst a mess of clean, linen sheets, feathered pillows, and tangled limbs where the heavy, velvet curtains danced serenely in some lovers' waltz, hiding the bedroom in some quiet bask, the both of you enjoyed breakfast over almond croissants, blueberries stolen from one another's plates and your usual café au lait – half a sugar, more milk than deemed necessary, just as Charles knows you love it – before you had walked around the neighbourhood by eleven o'clock to at least feel somewhat productive.

Even when the both of you only wanted to lounge endlessly after returning from Montréal the day before.

Despite finishing 4th and not quite following through in his hopes in securing an awarding podium and a taste of sweet champagne, faced with the recent difficulties of upgrades, he had come to accept and delight in his small succession nonetheless with you by his side, forever proud regardless.

Phones on mute, the rest of society blissfully forgotten and only each other to indulge in, it is pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Hm, you smell nice," By two o'clock – after a light luncheon on the balcony overlooking the beauty of the Côte d'Azur – you are dozing idly about the plush invitation of the sofa, his voice a hushed murmur near the side of your neck where lips ghost over in something close to a kiss when he speaks.

Charles is half-draped over your own figure, though his weight is comfortably balanced by an elbow against a sewn cushion, some kind of Jardin De Fleurs -inspired embroidery made and gifted by your grandmother, with ankles locked about each other and your soft-skinned palm tracing his shoulder through the white linen of his shirt.

For a moment, a quietude settles between you once more and you welcome the entwined curl of his lithe fingers around your own when his hand drifts higher from the inside of your wrist absently like some unspoken 'I love you' before his mouth meets yours.

It is slow and sweet, the kind of kisses you savour in committing to memory each and every time, and he can taste remnants of sweetened milk & honey tea on your breath that is so apparently mundane but equally unique to you alone.

When your head tilts back against the cushions – hair falling about like an angel's halo – and Charles shifts his own body further, closer, above you, his hands come to cradle either side of your lovely face, his thumbs grazing the delicate line of your cheekbones, his nose brushing lightly against the bridge of your own.

He kisses your brow, then the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, and finally your mouth again, all in that order, before breaking away for air.

"What was that for?" Voice hardly a demure whisper, you gaze at him through the veil of your lashes in some lovesick delight where your mouth threatens to curve against a hushed giggle, your own touch idly feeling along the carved line of his jaw like intricate marble where a dusting of five o'clock shadow lingers from a few days' worth. You secretly adore it, how it feels.

Charles smiles – all beautiful, revealed dimples and a glimmer in his eyes that remind of leaves in late August – and brushes a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. He takes a moment, his gaze lingering about the lines of your visage as if falling in love again, everyday. "For no particular reason, ma chérie, just because I want to."

Then he is leaning down to meet you again just as you welcome the embrace without question, only allowing yourself to melt further into the serenity of some lovesick truth as your arms drape about his shoulders faintly.

"Je pense..." Charles' mouth drifts down from yours slowly in a trail of kisses about your chin in his verbalised albeit quiet musings before lips slant together again and he encourages you to open for him, tasting, feeling, his tongue teasing over yours in a caress, "That I don't need a reason to kiss you."

In some silent, earnest contentment, you agree, because you could never refuse or object to the intimacy of his kisses and touches.

Mouth curving upwards against his, you let your fingertips feel the trimmed, soft hairs at his nape against tousled brunet tresses whilst breathing him in: Ombré Nomade cologne, hints of something akin to cedarwood against raspberry, incense and warm amber, against his natural pheromones. Home.

Feeling the lean muscles against his back through the soft fabric, toying only subtly with the subtle drag of teeth against his plush lower-lip whilst your eyes remain blissfully closed, you meet the faintest resonance of a sound from the back of his throat like a purr when he sucks upon your tongue with the same touch of loving.

"Vous êtes si belle," He sighs the compliments against you in sweet nothings and unabashed confessions, his own touch ghosting over the curves of your waist through the ivory, lace camisole hugging your physique, thumbs fleeting over the jut of your hip-bone before drifting higher once more.

It is when idle strokes are felt over your rib cage that you unconsciously emit a breathless, flushed sound of laughter against him before you can help yourself, instinctively shrinking against the touch whilst earning a look from him as he draws away fractionally with arched brows.

"Ticklish, are we, ma chérie?"

Your mouth parts for a retort or quick dismissal out of bashfulness – even when you know that he already knows too, given the Monégasque has the privilege to know each intimate, secretive and wholehearted truth about you – though the words die on your tongue the moment his fingertips continue their ministrations over your sides.

You cannot stop the serenade of laughter from leaving you, not when you are entirely vulnerable beneath, and a warmth settles in your chest when the corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile as he continues tickling you.

"Arrêt–" A breathless gasp of imploration, palms that reach to try and draw him away with a shove at his chest though your rosé cheeks hurt from the depth of your raw, honest smiles, "Charles." ꒰ stop ꒱

Chuckling lowly, the man offers you the respite of mercy as he comes to a halt and kisses the corner of your mouth intimately, instead allowing his hands to feel the curve of your lower-back and the notches of your vertebrae until eyes meet in the peace of the afternoon, otherwise silent save for the lull of Lana del Rey from the kitchenette radio.

"Je t'aime." ꒰ i love you ꒱

He kisses you again and it is rich in his responding, ardent devotion to you, letting the faint remnants of your lipstick smear his own mouth like the prints you leave on hand-written love letters of cursive Française just for him in your diaries, the cashmere throw forgotten about your feet on the other end of the chaise lounge whilst rain continues.

"Je t'aime aussi, pour toujours." ꒰ i love you too, forever ꒱

[luveline]

hi love! i have a request in mind. i read your guidelines and saw you’re not writing smut atm so just want to clarify that that’s not what this is!! i was wondering if you could write something where reader has abnormal pain during sex? and it’s just the conversation either before trying (thinking it will be awful and she’ll get rejected) or right after (and not having bad success for that first time). the reassurance of it would be wonderful to read, especially in your voice! as for the character, i’d love either joel or hotch! whatever comes easier <3 love ya jade

hi lovely, hope this is ok!! fem, 1k

cw suggestive/adult themes, mdni

"Am I doing something you don't like?" Aaron asks quietly. 

You sigh and turn your face from his kiss, skin aflame. It was a matter of time before he read your hesitancy, but you'd hoped to power through. This is the dealbreaker for some guys. You're especially terrified of Aaron's rejection in particular. 

"It's not you," you murmur. 

He drops his hand from your shoulder to your thigh, far from anywhere intimate but a heart-skipping touch regardless. "No?" he asks, matching your murmur. "We don't have to go any further. I misread you, honey. I'm sorry." 

"You didn't. It's… I want to," you say, pitch heightening and weakening at the same time, almost raw. "I really, really want to, but it's–" You look down at his chest. "It's embarrassing." 

"Oh." He clears his throat. "I'm not young. I promise, I know the reality of a woman's body–" 

You laugh unexpectedly, "No need to brag." 

"What I'm trying to say is that I know what real women look like. I'm not expecting you to be a two sheet spread." 

"Aaron, that's really sweet, but it's not what I'm struggling with." 

"Sorry," he says. He rubs your leg gently in apology. He looks embarrassed himself now, an odd expression on him, but reassuring in a way. 

"I have this thing. Sex," —your voice sounds weird, fraught with nerves— "can be really painful for me. Sometimes I can't do it because it hurts, and I don't want to lead you on when it might not, uh, work." 

Aaron holds his silence. You rush to fill it.

"We can still try, I'm not saying I can't have sex with you, I know that for most guys it's not something you want to go without and I get if that means I'm not right for you–" 

Aaron takes your hand. "Hey, wait. Wait. Who says you're not right for me?" 

"I just know sex is a big deal." 

Aaron is full grown, and you should've expected this, but it still shocks you when he speaks without cringing, "I won't tell you I don't enjoy it, but having sex with you isn't the only thing I want from you. Honestly, it probably doesn't make the top one hundred." 

"It's not that I can't…" 

"Right. It hurts?" he asks. 

Emboldened by his question, you squeeze his larger fingers between yours. "Yeah, it can hurt. Not always, but even if we take it slow I can't guarantee I'll enjoy it… The top one hundred, really?" 

Aaron leans down slowly to kiss your cheek. "Really. I don't want to lie to you, I want you. But mostly to make you feel good."  

His tone is quiet, measured, with a hint of hoarseness, and his breath fans warm over your skin. This is the very first time you've had this conversation  and still wanted to try afterward, confident that the partner understands what you're saying. 

"I probably should've told you before." 

"You told me when you were ready, that's all I want from you." He kisses your cheek again, before his arm is woven across your shoulders and your face is hooked into the curve of his neck. "Thank you for letting me know." 

"Aaron–" You laugh, the weight of your small secret finally lifted. "You just said thank you for my putting you in possibly the most awkward situation I could have when ten minutes ago you were giving me a hickey." 

"I think I'm old enough to do both." 

"All this focus on how old you are," you murmur, pressing your lips to his jaw. "You realise I barely think about it?" 

True and untrue. He doesn't feel any older than you when he's kissing you into a tizzy, but he's handled this conversation with immense and reassuring maturity. It is so, so nice to have been able to talk about your problem without shame or disgust in the mix, and nice, too, to know he isn't expecting supermodel perfection under your clothes. 

"I know you don't. It's hard not to think about sometimes, maybe you'll understand when you're older." He chuckles at his own joke as he pulls you close, leaning back in the couch cushions and encouraging you to rest the entirety of your weight on him. "Can I kiss you again?" 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, careful not to jab his chest with your elbows as you grow closer, closer. It's easier to kiss him knowing that no matter what happens, he doesn't mind. He understands. 

"Thank you," you say against his lips. 

"Stop. It's the very least I'd do for you." He kisses the corner of your mouth, covers your hand on his face with his own. "And… let me be crass, but when you say sex, you don't mean every aspect, do you?" Your eyes close as he pulls your nose against his. "I meant what I said earlier, about making you feel good."  

You huff an amorous laugh, "Not every aspect, no… We can figure it out. Please?" 

"Let's make something very clear, honey. You don't have to say please to me. Not about this." 

It means the world to you that after everything, this mess of conversation and flirting alike, you can wrap your arms around him for a hug and be received like it's the one thing Aaron was waiting for. His arms slide behind your back, one hand curled against the curve of your waist and the other stretched broad between your shoulder blades. 

"If it makes you feel better, I have a mole shaped like Louisiana on my stomach," he mumbles. "I didn't know how to bring it up." 

It's not that funny, but paired with your adrenaline rush and the comfort of his arms, you burst out laughing. Aaron joins in with his high-pitched laugh, so unlike his usual dulcet tone, and that makes it worse. You laugh so much you almost forget what you were doing before. Then he touches the small of your back under your shirt, and you remember. 

[cressidagrey]

Recipe for Love - Honey Cakes

Summary:

The Beehive Bakery is out of Peach Cobbler. This leads Azriel to make some very impulsive decisions. 

Warnings:

Definetely NSFW. Maybe don't make life-altering decisions about a lack of Peach Cobbler?

A/N:

thanks to @k-godling for listening to me rambling on about this and finding the perfect name for that Bakery! This will eventually be a series consisting out of One-Shots, so if you have an idea, shoot it my way! (Also, if anybody actually tries out that recipe, let me know lol)

Twice-Baked Honeycakes Ingredients:  1 ¾ cup flour 1 ½ tablespoon baking powder ½ tsp salt ½ cup unsalted butter, room temperature 3 tablespoon butter for greasing muffin pan zest 1 lemon ¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg ¾ cup milk 2 eggs

¾ cup honey 1/4 cup honey for drizzling on top 1 teaspoon vanilla Directions:  Grease the inside of muffin wells. Set Aside. Whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, nutmeg and lemon zest. Knead butter into flour mixture until crumbly. Set Aside. Whisk together milk, eggs, honey, and vanilla. Pour wet into dry ingredients and combine until just combined. Pour batter into Muffin wells. Bake in Hot Oven for 16 minutes or until mostly done but not quite golden enough. Remove from Muffin Wells and place on a baking sheet. Warm the remaining ¼ cup of honey. Brush the tops of the cakes with the honey. Allow to sit for 5 minutes. Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Habits were what got people killed. 

Azriel knew that. 

Getting slow, getting complacent…it was dangerous. 

He couldn’t help himself though. 

Or maybe it was that he thought that if this one thing would kill him…the one thing he did that sparked joy somewhere deep in his chest, that made everything feel not so bad…then it was worth it. 

If Azriel were actually smart, he would have gone straight to the House of Wind that particular day and not even bothered to visit that Bakery. 

Quite frankly, he would thank the mother on his knees for that bit of idiocy for the rest of his life. 

Azriel should have gone home. He was dead on his feet and hadn’t eaten properly in 3 days after the mission in Spring had dragged on and on and on…and now Azriel only wanted food and then his bed and then some sleep…

He had already forced himself to turn in a report to Rhys so that maybe he could actually sleep in the next day…he just hoped that Cassian and Nesta wouldn’t find the energy for one of their early morning trysts. 

But before bed…before sleep…he had promised himself another slice of that peach cobbler days ago. Just one. 

So when he sludged into the bakery…he realised with a grimace that it was late enough in the evening that it would already be closing soon. His hope that there still would be some peach cobbler was left diminished.  

Just one single slice…please. 

Just…

The moment the door closed behind him with a little jingle, there was a soft voice. 

“We’re out.” 

Azriel had grown used to it…to the near bell-like quality of it, all of it belonging to B, that blonde female he had seen the first time. He had gotten used to her , though he had always been served by one of the other people working there, by chance and circumstances. They had never even exchanged a single word. 

But he had liked to watch her…Watch her happiness as she flitted around her bakery. He had figured out that she was the owner quite quickly. 

She was always so…sweet. Sweet to her customers, sweet to her employees…She handed out these little smiles of hers generously and flirted up a storm with seemingly anybody who was willing to stand still long enough. 

She was sunshine personified. 

“What?” Azriel asked dumbly, staring at her, rooted in the spot as B continued counting money at the till, quickly putting coins into tidy little stacks. Seemed like the Bakery was running very well indeed.   

“We’re out of Peach Cobbler,“ she clarified, her voice lilting. “That’s what you always order, isn’t it? Sorry, Peaches.” 

Did she just call him Peaches ?

Did she just call the Spymaster of the Night Court, the horror of Prythian, an Illyrian warrior that was literally nearly twice her size Peaches ?!

Azriel had absolutely no fucking idea what to say to that. 

B looked up, giving him a smile that lit up her whole face as their eyes met across the room. “So what can I get you in…?” The words stuck in her throat. 

Sparkling blue eyes stared up at him. And he could just stare right back because at that very moment… everythingchanged. 

He had never felt anything like this before. 

Had never felt the warmth that burrowed deep into his chest…that sudden unfurling of a golden ribbon…the feeling of being tied to another person so utterly, so thoroughly, so completely. 

It was…

Oh . 

She blinked. Full lips pulling into a smile, that button nose wrinkling. “At least that explains why you come here every week. My peach cobbler is magnificent but clearly not the only reason,” she told him with a saucy little wink and he wanted to laugh, half hysterical. 

Brazen. 

His mate was utterly brazen. 

Something inside him eased.

“It’s quite confident that you think I only came for you,” he said hoarsely and she grinned at him. 

“Well…” she trailed off… ”I think my confidence is inspired,” she teased him, still grinning, her happiness bleeding all over their bond, all over him, and he nearly staggered with it. 

Worry registered on her face. “Sit down before you fall over,” she said pointedly, as she came from behind the counter. He couldn’t help but drink her in even as he managed to sit down on one of her wrought iron chairs, wrestling his wings behind himself.

His stomach growled. 

The sound was so loud in the quiet cafe that he blushed beet red. 

She only laughed, snagging a plate and piled it high with four little cakes that she brought over, putting it in front of him. 

He swallowed.

“If I eat that…” he said hoarsely as she sat down across from him. 

If he ate that, he would accept the mating bond. He would bind himself to her, forever, irrevocably.

“Oh, I know,” she told him with a grin. Not worried in the slightest. It didn’t even seem to cross her mind. She mustered him, blue eyes so gentle. “I am very much aware,” she promised him. “And you are looking at me like you expect me to turn you down, Peaches.”

He was expecting her to turn him down. He was expecting her to take one look at him and the shadows that slithered behind him, currently happily hissing to themselves, Finally, Master! …and to turn around and run . 

“I won’t,” she said with a shrug like it was the easiest promise she had ever given.  “You are my mate. I will never turn you down.” There was fierceness bleeding into her voice at that. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have me on your side.”

A surprising amount of loyalty, right there for his taking. 

His mate was insane. And quite frankly…he loved it. 

“You don’t even know my name,” he gave back hoarsely. 

“It’s not Peaches?” She faux gasped and he couldn’t help but snort. 

“Azriel. My name is Azriel,” he said quietly.

“Azriel,” she repeated, pushing that plate towards him.“Eat. Unless you don’t want to?” She asked him teasingly.

Azriel did want to. He wanted nothing more than that. 

There had been so much in his life that he had wanted and hadn’t been able to get…but she offered herself to him on a silver platter.

And so he picked up one of these little cakes. 

****

It had taken 150 years for him to show up. 

Bee wasn’t quite sure if she should just be grateful about that, or if she should be pissed off that it took that long. She had been waiting for him. 

Of course, she had. 

For somebody that had her whole life made herself a family out of choice… she had waited for fate to at least bring her a mate. 

And for once…for once she had been right. 

He was right there. Right there in the Beehive. Right there in her home. 

Granted, he stood out like a sore thumb with these beautiful, ferocious wings that stretched over his back…and the violent black leather armour he wore, blue stones gleaming. 

But all of that stood in sharp contrast to the rest of his demeanour, which looked like he was fully expecting her to turn him down. 

Jokes on him, she had no plans to do that. 

He was hers . She would never turn him down. 

Also, he was far too pretty for her to ever even consider it…She had really hit the jackpot with that. 

(And maybe the fact that she had been harbouring a secret crush on peaches for weeks and he was the only reason why the peach cobbler had been a daily staple in the Beehive also had something to do with that…)

“Better?” she asked him curiously as he scarfed down the second cake, stealing one of them for herself. “Honey cakes,” Bee told him brightly. “My sister brought me some lavender honey yesterday so I made them.” Roisin had gotten it from a friend herself, and Bee thought that it was quite a successful pairing. 

Her Honey Cakes had never tasted better. 

“Yes,” he breathed out, and he looked into his eyes to find the pupils blown wide, his want and need sharply grating against that new, golden bond tying them together. 

“Do you proposition every male that walks into your bakery and orders Peach Cobbler?” he asked her, his voice hoarse and she couldn’t help but grin, as she offered him her hand, as she stood. 

He took it, dwarfing hers with his own, violently scarred…but oh so gently. So gently. 

The first touch was like a spark…like a wildfire roared to life in her blood. She couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose over her skin. 

“Only the ones that are as handsome as you,” she quipped back, her voice shaky, as she wrapped her fingers around his. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Upstairs,” he agreed and followed behind her as she quickly grabbed the till…remembering that at least. 

Though it was thrown carelessly on the table in her hallway as she turned as soon as she could close the door and lock it behind her. 

He still stood there, staring at her…and she half expected him to pounce…because he looked like a cat like that, watching her every move. 

But he didn’t move. Didn’t move. Didn’t do anything but watch her, his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and flaking with every sharp breath he took. 

Oh well… she could take the lead…She would gladly do that. 

So she stepped closer to him…breathing in his scent…cedars and something she couldn’t quite place…wintry…like a forest in the morning…He smelled so good . 

She wanted to roll around his scent. Bee wanted…

Instead, she reached out with the hand he wasn’t holding, carefully, slowly…lifting it up to his face. 

She touched Azriel’s cheek and he turned into her touch, leaning into it, the tightness in his body relaxing as she cupped his cheek…

And then she stood up on her tiptoes and failed horribly to even reach higher than the middle of his chest, making him laugh, his body shaking with mirth. She growled as she yanked him down and he went willingly, finally letting her crush her lips to his. 

And then…oh. 

It was like coming home. It was like falling asleep and waking up at the same moment…it was like…like everything inside her calmed and burst into flames…

And…by the cauldron, she needed him.

That must be that damn mating frenzy everybody always talked about. 

His tongue hungrily licked into her mouth and she gave as good as she got from him, her hands curling tightly into the leather armour he wore. 

 “I don’t even know your name,” he growled against her mouth and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Beatrice. Everybody calls me Bee. Like the animal, not like the letter,” she answered with a moan, even as she walked backwards, until he had enough and just scooped her up like she weighed nothing…she couldn’t help but squeak, because she may wasn’t particularly tall, but she was rather… substantial and he didn’t even seem to notice her weight. 

Oh well. she wasn’t going to start complaining. 

Not when he managed to find her bedroom on the first try and Bee hit the bed as he followed her down. 

She caught his mouth with hers again, hungrily licking into his mouth, grounding up against him…the bulk of him pressed her down into the bed…muscular and massive. 

There seemed to be nothing soft about his body at all, was there? 

She managed to get a hand on the buckles that kept Azriel’s jacket closed and then pulled back with a regretful because she was quite sure that that was never going to work. 

“Get it off,” she managed to bring out. “Before I try and rip it off.” His eyes darkened at that but he lifted off her and she leaned up on her elbows to watch him…watch him unbutton the jackets and open the buckles so that he could slide it off his body…these beautiful dark wings, unfurling behind him…the swirling tattoos that covered his chest and arms…

Bee had been right. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere, the muscles standing out sharply, speaking of…years of hard work and training. Azriel was gorgeous. 

She was a lucky, lucky girl. 

With maybe just a teeny, tiny bit of self-consciousness because he looked like that and she…didn’t. 

Though the way he was watching her…hazel green eyes dark…desire so plainly on his face…his tongue slipping over his lips…

It made her sit up and open the bow that kept her apron closed…let her shrug it off and throw it to the floor…Something to deal with tomorrow. 

Somehow that pulled him into action…made him lean down so that he could kiss her again, and Bee smiled into that kiss, moaning softly as his tongue plundered her mouth. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but somehow she had thought he would be…rougher. 

He wasn’t. If anything, he was endlessly gentle…

Azriel caught her ankle without a word, obligingly unbuckling her shoe and dropping it to the floor. He slid one hand up her leg briefly, all the way to the knee, Bee unable to stop the goosebumps that broke out all over her body, the soft shiver that rocked her. 

“Cold?” he asked her, his voice quiet but she shook her head, even as she offered her other foot, letting him take off the other shoes and toss it over his shoulder,

“You could keep me warm?” she offered breathlessly, making him laugh, the sound warm and rich like molasses, before he crawled to join her on the bed. 

 Her breath hitched as he crawled over her and settled between the spread of her thighs…Kissing her again…She was so busy with curling a hand in his hair that she didn’t even notice him starting to unbutton her dress until he reached her waist and then growled in annoyance. 

This time it was her laughing, struggling to sit up underneath him so that she could shrug out of the rest of her clothing…could pull the dress over her head and slip out of the lacy little unmentionable she wore, because she was quite sure she would rip them apart in her hurry to lose them later anyway…and the way he stared at her body as she bared more and more skin to him…as she shook out her hair so that the blonde curls fell over her shoulders…

One look over her shoulders and he bore down onto her again, catching her mouth with his with a growl and she hitched her leg higher against his thigh. 

“You’re warm,” she whispered quietly. Azriel was all lean muscles and warm skin…and she arched a little underneath him and shivered. 

He shifted just slightly and her breath caught in her throat…even like this she could feel the rock-hard bulge of him pressing against her through his trousers…making her shiver once again. 

She took the weight of him and moaned against his mouth as he dipped his tongue between her lips.

She whimpered and Azriel lifted his head and slipped off of her to lie on his side. Bee turned with him, seeking his mouth and shivering under his hand as he slid it up her side to cup her breast. 

A long drawn-out moan was the result of that, as rough fingers skilfully brushed over one rosy nipple…

His touch was careful and hesitant…and she met his gaze, pressing against these hands… trying to make it so clear to him that she wanted him…she grasped the golden bond flexing inside her and poured all her want and happiness into it.

He had expected that, his body freezing for just a moment as he dropped his head to her shoulder, holding her like she was made out of spun glass, hands desperately clinging onto her skin. 

Another puzzle piece of him…him, that male that had always been silently brooding in that corner and had expected her to turn him down.

She kissed him, softly, coaxing… and he returned that kiss. It was intoxicating, his patience nothing short of shocking. 

 They got a little lost in those kisses. 

Bee was a little overwhelmed when he wrenched his mouth from hers and slid down enough to take one rigid, aching nipple into his mouth. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her, the shudder that wrecked her body…

She shuddered when Azriel pushed one big hand between her legs, fingers trailing over her lower lips before dipping between them. 

She was already embarrassingly wet, the scent of her own arousal in the air hard to ignore. 

Bee gasped into his mouth as he dipped one thick finger into her hole, her body shivering with the stretch of it. Everything was big about him, even his hands. His teeth clenched on her nipple briefly and she arched up against his mouth, her back arching.

Azriel lifted his head and their eyes met as he pressed his finger deeper into her, Green meeting blue. Bee’s breath caught in the back of her throat and she lifted her hips upwards against the pleasure with a happy little shiver. 

“Good?” he asked her, his voice hoarse and she just about managed a shaky nod. 

“Perfect, Peaches,” she promised him with a grin and without fanfare he pushed a second finger inside her, making her gasp. 

His thumb found her clit at that moment, drawing a tight little circle about that attention-seeking nub and she couldn’t help the long-drawn-out moan that escaped her. 

“More,” she requested in a whine and he chuckled as he shifted them around, placing her on his lap, Bee the one on top, rising above him, his hands on his hips. 

She growled when she still felt the trousers he wore, managing to shove them out of her way and then…then swallowed when his cock sprung free. Long and thick and…Gods, everything about him was unreasonably pretty, wasn’t it? 

She wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him in one fell swoop. 

It would probably be a bad idea, just because of the sheer size of him. 

But that didn’t stop her from reaching out for him… wrapping one small hand around the hot length of his cock…she watched his face, watched how Azriel hissed in a breath but didn’t try to stop her and flexed his hips as she rubbed the hear of his cock against her entrances. 

Azriel kept a hold of her hips, a thumb still circling her clit, making her half out of her mind with wanting him. 

He makes her take him slowly instead…tiny gentle thrusts that nonetheless make Bee shudder with pleasure, ragged breath escaping her, a whine leaving her throat, her head thrown back…

When she’s finally fully seated, Azriel’s eyes fall shut for a moment in ecstasy, and Bee braced her hands on his chest and shifts a little, just to see how it feels. Cauldron, she was so fucking full.

He let her take her time, not even trying to control her movements…his hands stayed on her hips, still rubbing her clit…He let her rise up on her knees and sink down again in little restless motions, her breasts bouncing…he caught one of them in his mouth again as he sat up, his abdominal muscles flexing in a truly ridiculous display of strength that maybe made her moan wantonly…

Not that she wasn’t already doing it…they were both panting with it, Bee keening with her moans at how fucking good it is, how big he feels inside her, how perfect…until almost by accident she finds exactly the perfect angle to hit that spot inside her, that one spot that makes her see stars…

And she watched as it registered on Azriel’s face and he grinned, slowly lowering his back onto the mattress… tightened his hold on her hips to hold her in place and started to thrust. 

That was the last straw. 

She could feel the bond rushing between them - a little wild and rich with their feelings. The most beautiful thing…

Each drag of his cock inside her pulled her further and further away from herself and into a place, she’d never been. It was more than sex, more than even love. More than anything she had ever felt…

She couldn’t help but wail as it settled inside her…deeper and more pleasurable than anything she’d ever known.

Bee scrabbled against Azriel’s chest, against the swirling dark marks with uncoordinated hands because she had to do something with them…if she didn’t, she wasn’t sure what would happen, as her whole body shook with the strength of the waves of pleasure that crashed over her at that moment. 

Azriel made a positively feral noise and yanked her down, pressing his face into the crook of her neck…breathing in her scent as he clung to her and spilt inside her, hot and filthy and glorious.

She couldn’t help herself as she collapsed, utterly uncoordinated, across Azriel’s chest. For just a moment, he lay still beneath her, shuddering through the aftershocks, his hands still on her hips…his nose pressed against her neck, breathing her in…

He loosened the hands around her hips…she was pretty sure that he had bruised her but she didn’t care one bit. 

Not one bit as he helped shift her until she laid draped over him…and then he wrapped one arm around her waist and combed the fingers of his other hand through her blonde tresses…again and again…so utterly sweet that she melted into his chest, tucking her face again. 

“Thank the cauldron, I didn’t have any peaches anymore,” she mumbled against his chest. For a moment he was quiet. Then he chuckled, the sound warm and soothing. 

“I think I prefer honey now," he answered and she reached out to poke his chest weakly. 

"If you think that's funny, I'll let you know that any bee-related jokes have ceased to be that around 6 decades ago," she told him drily, getting another chuckle from him. 

[tteokdoroki]

Bakugos hands traveling from shoulders to thighs rqq!! Then squeezing that soft flesh and working his way to the lower lips and massaging his way to a squirting session if he's not careful

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — how to be a good boyfriend + katsuki bakugou.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — smut, nsfw, mdni 18+, aged up characters, oil massages, fem!reader, oral!sex (f!receiving), heavy!praise pussy eating, finger fucking, overstimulation, squirting, spitting, needy and soft dom!bakugou.

im assuming this is about the bakugou/oil massage post so hehe here

katsuki is a good boyfriend, the best boyfriend. he prides himself on that fact and you know that it’s true too.

he’s always in tune with your needs and your moods— he’s a little more affectionate and full of praise when he can tell that you’ve had a good day, he’s playful and pinches your sides when he can tell that you need a little cheering up. and when your days are rough? he’s caring, the first person to scoop you into his arms and let you bitch about the coworker that stole your lunch or your project proposal. he does one of three things— make you dinner, run you a bath or offer you a massage. sometimes all three.

but today, when you’d walked through the door— clinging onto consciousness with your shoulders stiff as bolts and your eyes dropping with exhaustion, katsuki had taken one look at you from his seat on the couch and decided. “get naked ‘n on the bed in ten, baby. ‘m givin’ you a massage.”

bakugou already knows your favourite oils, the scent of lavender filling your bedroom as he heats a squeeze of the viscous liquid up between his molten hot palms— he smiles, slick and slow once he spots you in the middle your shared bed laid out bare for him and on your tummy. “you’re so pretty, baby,” he tells you, chest bristling with pride when you whimper out for him to touch you. to soothe your aches and pains away. “s’it okay for me to put my hands on ya? the oil’s hot, don’t wanna burn ya.”

“s’okay, kats.” you pout but your words fall away into a quiet gasp as your boyfriend digs his oiled thumbs into your aching shoulder blades and rolls them around the knots in circles. “o-oh, there. right there kats…”

you feel the bed dip under his weight as he moves to straddle your back and works his way down it— massaging the skin nice and deep underneath his warm palms. “here, princess? want me to work ya here?” bakugou’s voice is like honey running through your ears as it muffles your logical thought, his touch his particular as if his fingertips know just where to squeeze and pull at your flesh— kneading you just right, sending tingles of pleasure right up to your brain and happy hormones into your bloodstream. “so tense sweets, what’s got’cha so worked up, hm?”

by now, your blood blisters and lustfully tremors just underneath your skin, one that makes your jaw go slack and makes it harder to fight to keep your eyes open. you hear the faint click of the bottle cap in the distance, katsuki humming to himself patiently as he heats up more lavender oil between his palms and forces them into the base of your spine. he doesn’t push you for an answer, he’s too cruel for that— the blonde takes pleasure in watching you squirm and rack your brain for words just as he does in seeing you feel good.

you fist the sheets between shaky fingers, an adorable and pathetic sight to your boyfriend. he likes how you tremble underneath his magic hands, letting him lather you up and see stars in such a sensual way. you even shine like one too. “c’mon sweetness,” he coos, grabbing a healthy hold of your ass and squeezing it in his grip. “i know there’s somethin’ you wanna ask for.”

“k-katsuki, please!” you heave brokenly, like you want more of him. like you need more of him.

“alright sweetness, calm down. i gotcha,” and that’s all it takes, katsuki leaning forward to kiss behind your ear— his sweltering chest pressed against your sticky lubed up back before he peels off of your body and settles behind you, his hands steady on the fat of your hips. “arch yer back f’me baby, you know how i like it. that’s right, such a good girl, hah? c’mon…ass in the air, fuck.” katsuki would be lying if he said seeing your slicked ass and equally slick pussy on display for him didn’t affect him, make his cock twitch in his boxers as he pulled your ass cheeks apart and watched strings of your arousal break between them. he’d be a fucking liar if that wasn’t true, but tonight isn’t about him or about getting his dick wet.

it’s all about you.

three fingers press against your soaked slit, katsuki instantaneously rubbing slow circles against your clit and groaning at the raunchy squelching sounds that drip from between your pussy lips. “look at that, yer s’fuckin’ wet,” he moans, voice barely above a whisper. “such a nice, wet fuckin’ pussy beneath my fingers…let’s get one inside ya, huh?” you can’t help the loud, almost pornographic, whine that escapes you when two of those fingers slips past your fluttering entrance— curling against your sopping walls to find that spot that makes you lose your fucking mind.

bakugou massages your insides like a man moulding a work of art from clay— fingertips drifting along all of your pleasure spots that only serve to make you babble brainlessly and clench down on him tight. “you like that, sweetness? when i finger fuck this pretty lil’ cunt, stroke these walls…uh-huh,” he’s relentless, scissoring his digits and thumbing at your clit until you’re a mess that’s chasing after every shot of ecstasy he gives you. you squeak when katsuki spits down on you, moving faster and faster as he watches the bubbly and frothy mix disappear into your tight little hole. “sloppy…sloppy fuckin’ girl,” he says breathlessly, as if he’s in a trance. “droolin’ all over my hand, my fuckin’ god.”

his words make you twitch, have your juices running into the seat of his palm and down your quivering thighs in clear streams. a symphony of nasty squelches and salacious moans intertwine with the lavender scent in the air— only tainted by the smell of sex and the nectar oozing in fat droplets from your pussy. “oh fuck, katsuki…s’so much…it’s so good,” you grunt, though your words are muffled by the pillow in your mouth. you can’t get enough of what he gives you, fucking you deep and stretching your puckered little hole with thick fingers, hot fingers. you can’t help but throw your ass back on him, rut against the digits that fill you up like they’re bakugou’s cock, playing with your insides until you think you’ve seen the pearly gates. “fuck me, f-fuck!”

“yeah i know baby, jus’ keep gettin’ my fingers wet…keep rockin’ those hips, i’ll make you cum,” bakugou laughs softly, endearingly not daring to tear his eyes away from how your cunt sucks him in so selfishly. “pussy feels so good, baby. love havin’ you like this. oh fuck,” he moans as if it’s his cock snug against your rippling walls, as if you’re riding his dick to hell and back— creaming all over it and choking the life out of him. it just goes to show how important your pleasure is to your boyfriend, how getting you off is more than enough to satisfy him, especially when he has to hold you up— stop you from collapsing each time his blunt finger tips graze your g-spot.

tears begin to sting at your eyes, your breath short and the room spinning— you’re sticky and hot and the knot deep within your lower tummy threatens to unravel with your orgasm. “k-kats! ‘m…’m close! i-i wanna—!”

“you wanna cum? make a mess on my fuckin’ fingers like the slutty lil girl you are?” bakugou taunts but drops his head until he’s eye level with your swollen, sopping mound— you sniffle in response, shaking your hips back onto his fingers that keep you plugged full while his warm breath coasts over your throbbing clit. “lemme take care of it baby, lemme be good t’you…” the blonde’s words are lost on you and before you can register it, his molten lava mouth latches onto the pretty pearl tucked between your raw and ravaged pussy lips. “have t’taste you…”

his words are licked into the length of your slit, weak whimpers laid out on katsuki’s tongue just from the mere taste of your sweetness spreading over it. “o-oh baby, taste so fuckin’ good, look so pretty when i suck on this swollen fuckin’ clit,” he coos…sounding like he’s on the verge of begging for more of you. for you to paint his face with your nectar, for you to drown him in your juices. when his fingers pull back from your greedy little hole, his tongue runs eager laps over your sex, the tip of the pink muscle writing his name against your clit while his desperate moans rise in octave—growing higher than your own.

[theother-victoria]

LOVE IS CONCOCTED FROM ESTERS AND KETONES- CH.01: AVENTURINE

SYNOPSIS: he never expected to find home again.

CHARACTERS: aventurine

TAGS: bittersweet veering more towards bitterness I’m sorry guys, menace aventurine, 2.1k+ wc,

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @flowery-jazz, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore , @lxkeeeee , @mewnekoice-mecha , @nariism

NOTES: aven fans are allergic to happiness case in point: me

special thanks to @milksnake-tea for doing the math on how much a perfume bottle costs in the hsr-verse and @akutasoda and @phantovia for letting me use their ocs aika and yeri respectively! additionally thank u to my pookies @tragedy-of-commons, @akutasoda (once again), @https-sourlimes, and @kazuhaiku for proofreading this chapter!

The first of the new customers comes in on a slow Tuesday afternoon.

It’s just you and your two assistants in the shop. They’re restocking some of the bottles on the shelves and you’re in the lab as per usual, this time reformulating an old scent that didn’t sell well on its maiden voyage. You distantly hear the front door chime ring and the voices of your two assistants welcoming them.

You stare down at the flask in front of you on the table and the array of raw materials scattered around it. Eh, might as well get up and help out. You haven’t made any progress in the past half hour either. 

With a sigh, you get up and unlock the door separating your lab from the store. Your usual greeting spills from your lips like you’re on autopilot.

“Welcome, dear customer. How can I be of assistance today?”

You trip over your words a little bit at the end as you take this customer’s appearance. On first impression, it’s a bit gaudy- like a peacock trying to impress. An expensive leather coat with fur like he’s trying to flaunt his wealth and a spade cutout right in the middle of the chest like he’s trying to draw attention to it. His face is also obscured by the brim of his hat and his pink sunglasses so you sadly can’t get a glimpse of his appearance. You haven’t seen him before- you’d remember a getup like that for sure. 

“Nothing in particular. Just doing some window shopping.”

His voice is rich and syrupy like honey and it pulls you in. You don’t miss how your two shop assistants are eyeing him and you send them a look over your shoulder. They giggle under their breaths and scurry away to busy themselves around the shop. 

He picks up a black tester bottle and sprays it a couple times around his pulse points before walking around the store again. It’s pricey, but it’s a popular perfume among young men, especially those that like to party from your observations. Not surprising, considering how creamy, spicy, and decadent it smells. It’s a crowd-pleaser. 

One of your assistants, Aika, passes by with a box of perfume bottles that you received in an earlier shipment. She pauses and gives you a mischievous look. 

“He’s hot,” she whispers as he passes by. “Looks like he’s interested in you too. I see him eyeing you up. Don’t pretend like you haven’t either.”

You merely glare at her, which she laughs at. He gives you a knowing look and a wink, further proving her point. You pointedly ignore it. 

He seems happy with how the scent reacts with his skin chemistry and the dry down because he walks back to grab a bottle before setting it down by the register. You pause what you’re doing in the meantime to ring him up. 

He hands his card over without a second thought. Black card, you note as you swipe it. It’s got some weight to it too. You catch a glimpse of the name on the card and the IPC logo in the corner before handing it back to him. Aventurine, of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department. Now you have a name and affiliation to go with the face as well. 

When you hand his card back, his gloved fingers ghost over your hand for a second longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand seeps through the thin leather and you have to force yourself to ignore it and bid him goodbye. 

Another one of your shop assistants watches him go as well.

“You know, he didn’t seem like he particularly loved that perfume. Maybe he bought it just to get close to you?”

“Yeri…”

“Just saying. Don’t act like you didn’t notice it too.”

After that, he doesn’t leave you alone. You quickly learn that he’s an IPC executive, which takes you by surprise with how he’s attached to your hip at any given time. He’s still busy with work, but he spends a lot more time at your store than you’d expect- at least a visit or two every week. He always leaves with something as well. At this rate he’s going to have a bottle of every perfume in your store…

“He’s more like a… how do I put it? He’s more like a… clingy stray cat that you took pity on one day and it wouldn’t leave your side after that,” you complained to your shop assistants one day during lunch. Aika snorts and steals a bite of your food. 

“No harm in playing along with him. He’s rich, after all. Savor this opportunity.”

He also likes to flirt with you and hog up all your free time. He’ll walk in with a loud declaration of “(Name)! I’m back!” and wrap his arms around your shoulders and waist the moment he sees you. Over time, you’ve gotten used to it and you’ll do business as usual with a grown man clinging to you like some house cat. 

(Your shop assistants still tease you relentlessly though.)

In return, you turn him into your unofficial guinea pig to test your upcoming perfumes on. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he seems to take pride in it. 

You gently grab his wrist and spray something onto the exposed skin. He doesn’t resist- just lets you do your thing.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

“My friend, you already know what I’m going to say. Everything and anything you create is bound to sell out. When it comes to storytelling, your nose is unmatched.”

“Give me real constructive criticism, Aventurine. Stop trying to butter me up.”

“I’m being honest here!”

With the frequency of his visits, the distance between you quickly closes. He insists you refer to him by his name without any prefixes. You don’t particularly care what he refers to you by, but you’ll frequently catch him on the phone talking about “his beloved perfumer”. 

One day when there are no customers in the shop, he comes in. There’s no loud proclamation of your name or the now-familiar sound of expensive leather shoes against the floor as he searches for you. He looks a little different as well. His hat is gone, as well as his pink sunglasses, letting you see his face unobstructed for the first time.

His eyes. They’re the first thing to draw you in. They’re a hypnotizing shade of magenta and blue that you’ve never seen before. 

What pretty eyes, you think. But you avert your gaze in case he catches you staring. Strangely enough, he doesn’t meet your gaze. He takes a particular interest in the view outside the window even though he’s seen it a million times already. 

You hand him a faceted golden bottle. The turquoise liquid inside swirls slightly as he examines it. A thin turquoise band runs around the circumference of the bottle and he hesitates. It looks a little familiar, for some reason…

“This is a new scent I created recently. Smell it and tell me your thoughts.”

He sprays it on his wrists before tentatively taking a whiff. Instantly, the scent of bergamot and the sea hits him.

No, the smell of home hits him. There’s a faint citrusy smell that smells vaguely familiar to a hardy fruit that bloomed on the scraggly trees during the spring and the earthy scent of sand hits him like a punch to the gut. He can still recall the sensation of the sand stinging his eyes from the harsh solar winds and how despite his sister’s best efforts, he could never fully get it out of his clothes and hair. It stuck to him like a second skin. 

Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that he could’ve filled a bottle with sand and brought it with him so he’d always carry part of home, especially on those lonely nights. 

Then comes the rain.

He can hear the sound of the rain hitting the rooftop of the tent he called home as a child where he’d celebrate a few lonesome birthdays, followed by the stench of iron and rot and the sickening squelch of his footsteps in the drenched sand as he flees, leaving everything he’s known and loved behind. 

For some reason, he can taste the saltiness of the sea as well. But on a planet as desolate and barren as Sigonia-IV, there are no bodies of water. Is it the ocean or rather his tears instead?

He rubs his wrists together to make the top notes and memories dissipate faster. They fade to something richer and deeper, more opulent and decadent. More fitting for who he is now. The spicy scent of expensive alcohol is both familiar and sickening. 

There’s a new syrupy sweet scent that emerges that meshes so well with the alcohol he almost doesn’t realize it’s there until he takes a second whiff. His eyes widen and he almost chokes on it.

Honey. It’s the sugary sweet scent of honey. 

Even now, he still can’t escape his past.

He picks up on a resinous scent and if the honey made him feel nauseous, then the scent of amber makes him sick to his stomach. All for the Amber Lord. That damned phrase reminds him that he still isn’t free, imprisoned by gold and jewels instead of chains and shackles now. 

The decadence and richness of the top notes have died down and it now smells warm and intimate, like a hug from a loved one. He thinks of his sister and the long nights he’d spent cuddled into her side to stave off the extreme cold. He can’t remember what her voice sounds like anymore, or what she smelled like, or how she even looked. But he remembers how safe, how loved, he felt in her embrace. 

He hates every aspect of the scent. It’s too close for comfort. (Did you enlist the help of a Memokeeper for this?)

But he loves it at the same time. He’s heard the stories of how your perfumes are stories in their own rights, shifting from one scent to another to evoke foreign yet familiar emotions in the hearts of their wearers. He’s enjoyed all your perfumes so far, but hasn’t found something that really resonated with him up until now. Clearly, he’s underestimated your nose.

You fidget a bit, a little unnerved at his silence. He always has something to say. For him to be silent is so uncharacteristic. 

“So… how is it?”

He continues to stay silent. His chest feels tight and his left hand has subconsciously clenched into a fist behind his back. 

“I’ll take your entire stock.”

The words make it past the lump in his throat and he forces a smile. 

You freeze.

“Sorry?”

“You heard me. I’ll take your entire stock.”

“... It’s still under development though…”

“I don’t care. Just don’t release it to the general public. How much per bottle?”

“The same as the rest of them. 112,000 credits for the full size.” 

To your surprise, he hands his card over without a second word. After a moment of hesitation, you swipe it. The little ding tells you the transaction went through. Most, if not all, of your customers are wealthy. They have to be in order to afford your perfumes. But the top one percent of the one percent… they really are in a different realm. 

“You do subscription services, right?”

Dumbfounded, all you can do is nod. He lets out a satisfied hum.

“Perfect. Sign me up for it.”

Sensing your shock, Yeri graciously takes over for you while you head to the back to process what just happened. This scent was just you messing around! If you did end up selling it, it would’ve only been in limited quantities because of how… unique it smells. Not as unique compared to some of your wares, but niche enough to separate it from your more palatable scents. 

Yet here you are with a man that has already paid for and demanded several bottles… Better get to work then. 

Your shop assistants have already finished processing the transaction and Aventurine is standing outside the store now. He gingerly lifts the bottle out from its packaging and sprays it a few times onto his pulse points. He knows he’s being greedy by hoarding all the bottles and not letting anyone else have it, but he doesn’t care. The delusional side of him thinks there’s no way this fragrance WASN’T crafted for him specifically. The notes, the bottle design, everything. 

Fabric holds scent longer than skin does. His mind drifts to the old rag that was his father’s, safely stored away.

He won’t be able to return home for a long while. But this perfume must be what it’ll feel like when that day finally comes and his time runs out.

PERFUME NOTES (yes I am making a perfume for every character):

TOP NOTES: bergamot, petrichor, sand, sea notes

MIDDLE NOTES: tonka bean, sandalwood, vanilla, rum, bourbon, whiskey

BASE NOTES: honey, amber, skin musk, iso e super

INSPIRATION: Versace Eros, Initio Psychedelic Love, and Initio Side Effect

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@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai