#crisp moonlight

[shinedown2010-blog]

[dappermouth]

a few minutes ago, at exactly midnight, i heard soft distant honking and looked out the cracked window to see a group of trumpeter swans flying low over the fields, huge and white and unearthly, their shadows flung crisp-black onto glittering snow by the moonlight, and then they were gone and a moment later their voices were gone too and in the wake of them was a sort of loneliness that is hard to quite get words around

[leona-hawthorne]

LEONA-HAWTHORNE’S KINKTOBER

october 3rd. theodore nott — toys, voyeurism, bondage.

theodore nott x fem reader

summary ; you have some… interesting experiences with theo when you and your friends decide to spend the night in an old haunted manor. words ; 5.1k warnings ; toys (use of dildo and vibrator), unprotected piv, bondage, humiliation, 18+ content

navigation kinktober masterlist

The crisp October night wrapped itself around you like a cold embrace, the wind whispering through the overgrown vines that clung to the rusted iron gates before you. The abandoned manor loomed in the distance, a decaying relic of the past, its towering silhouette dominating the sprawling grounds.

"Are we seriously spending the night here?" Pansy's voice wavered between excitement and fear as she glanced at the foreboding mansion.

"Of course," Mattheo grinned, his usual cocky demeanor unfazed. "Nothing wrong with a little ghost hunting with friends."

Blaise snorted, smirking. "Yeah, unless we end up as ghosts ourselves."

"Relax, you nitwits. It's just an old house," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes as he pushed open the creaking iron gates.

You shivered, instinctively pulling your cloak tighter around your shoulders. "Theo, are you sure about this?" you asked softly, your gaze flickering to your boyfriend standing beside you. His sharp features were illuminated by the pale moonlight, his hair falling lazily over his eyes. He glanced at you, smirking as his hand slipped into yours, sending a wave of warmth through the chill.

"Don't tell me you're scared," he teased. "It's just an old house."

"You said it was haunted," you reminded him, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Theo's smirk widened. "Rumors. Superstitions. Nothing you need to worry about."

With a playful tug, he pulled you forward, leading you through the rusted gates that groaned ominously in the stillness. The gravel crunched beneath your feet as the two of you made your way toward the manor, its black silhouette growing more oppressive with every step. The air felt heavy—almost alive—with the weight of forgotten magic, or perhaps something far more sinister.

When you reached the massive oak doors, Theo paused, glancing at you over his shoulder with that same teasing grin. "Still want to go inside?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, the oppressive energy of the place thickening the air, but you wouldn't let him see your hesitation. You swallowed hard and nodded, determined not to back down now. Not in front of him.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with approval.

With a forceful push, the doors groaned open, revealing the dark, decaying entrance hall. The air inside was colder than outside, thick with dust and the scent of mildew. Torn tapestries lined the walls, forgotten remnants of a grandeur long faded.

You groaned, glancing around in disbelief. "Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you muttered, frustration mingling with your mounting anxiety.

Theo led you deeper into the manor, his steps confident as if he'd been here a thousand times. The others followed behind, their footsteps echoing through the grand, dilapidated space. Cobwebs hung from every corner like old lace, and the weight of the silence was almost suffocating. Theo turned to you, extending his hand once more.

"So," he said with a grin, "what do you think? Spooky enough for you? Let me know if you need someone to hold your hand."

You shot him a glare, though the knot in your stomach betrayed your bravado. Your fingers brushed lightly against his. "Shut up. I told you, I'm not scared," you grumbled, though the darkened hallways told a different story.

Your heart thudded in your chest, the mix of fear and his teasing making your pulse quicken. “But I won't lie, there is something about being here that makes my skin crawl," you admitted, barely above a whisper, as you unconsciously inched toward him.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you slightly closer. "I thought you weren't scared," he teased again, though his voice was softer now, almost amused. "Maybe you need a big, strong man to keep you safe after all."

Rolling your eyes, you elbowed him lightly. "I said shut up."

His lips curled into a gleeful smile, clearly enjoying your unease. "Lucky for you, love, I'm here to save the day." With your hand firmly in his, he led you further into the manor, the old floorboards creaking beneath your every step.

The shadows deepened as you ventured further inside, their long, jagged shapes seeming to reach for you. Theo's grip tightened on your hand, offering silent reassurance as the cold stone walls closed in. "We should stick together anyway," he mused, his tone lighter now. "Safety in numbers, right?"

Eventually, the two of you found yourselves in a grand sitting room, the large windows covered with tattered, moth-eaten curtains. Faded portraits lined the walls, their painted eyes tracking your every movement with unnerving accuracy. A cold, dead fireplace loomed at the far end, its once-mighty hearth now filled with lifeless ashes.

"Cozy," Theo smirked, wandering over to a dusty bookshelf. He trailed a finger along the spines of the old books, eyeing them curiously. "I bet there's some fascinating reading material in here."

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you playfully nudged him. "Only you would think about books in a place like this, nerd."

Before he could reply, a loud thump echoed from upstairs, causing both of you to jump. Theo's eyes widened momentarily before he composed himself with a chuckle.

"Probably just the others... or maybe the ghosts," he joked, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back.

With a shared look, the two of you headed back to the foyer, where your friends were gathered, lounging on worn furniture and discussing their next move.

"Well, well, looks like our little explorers found nothing but dust and cobwebs," Lorenzo called from his spot on an aged velvet sofa, a grin plastered on his face. "I say that’s enough sightseeing for now. We’ve got a whole night ahead of us. How about we liven things up with a game of Truth or Dare?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "Truth or Dare? Seriously, Enzo? What are you, fourteen?"

Mattheo chuckled, shrugging. "What else are we gonna do in a place like this?"

"Fine, fine," Theo said, throwing up his hands. "But I’m only playing if there’s alcohol involved." He turned to you with a wicked grin. "Since my lovely girlfriend is feeling so bold tonight, why don't you start us off? Truth or dare?"

You met his gaze, unwilling to back down from the challenge. "Dare," you replied, lifting your chin defiantly. "I'm not afraid of a little challenge.”

A slow grin spread across Theo's face. "Alright, I dare you..." He paused dramatically, letting the tension build. " ...to kiss me. Right here, in front of everyone.”

The collective groan from your friends was almost comical. "That's hardly a dare," you scoffed. "I mean, you are my boyfriend."

"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to kiss you," Theo shot back with a cheeky grin.

You rolled your eyes, but your annoyance couldn't hide the small smile tugging at your lips. "You're such a show-off.”

Without further hesitation, you stepped forward and kissed him deeply, your fingers threading through his hair as your lips moved together. You blocked out the catcalls and whistles from your friends, focused only on the warmth of Theo's body pressed against yours. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the eerie manor and all its dangers faded away.

As you broke apart, breathless, Theo smirked, his forehead resting against yours. "Much better than I expected," he murmured, his tone filled with playful pride.

You blushed, looking away. "Shut up. You got what you wanted."

Theo's low chuckle vibrated against your skin as he nuzzled into your cheek. "Oh, I did indeed," he purred, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Now, who's next?"

Lorenzo's mischievous grin widened as he turned toward Mattheo, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Truth or Dare, Riddle. You're up."

Mattheo leaned back, stretching lazily before his dark eyes flickered toward Lorenzo. "Dare, of course. Give me something good."

The game spiraled from there, the room filling with laughter and mock indignation as truth after truth was spilled, and dare after dare was accepted with varying degrees of bravado. Lorenzo had Blaise sprinting across the room in his underwear, Pansy revealing a rather scandalous secret about her latest fling, and Mattheo howling in laughter after being dared to serenade one of the portraits on the wall.

It wasn't long, however, before the attention returned to you, and the smirk on Lorenzo's face sent a chill crawling down your spine. His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long before he spoke.

"Y/N," Lorenzo began, the edges of his grin sharp. "I dare you to go up and explore the attic."

The room fell into a heavy silence, all eyes suddenly on you. Your heart clenched, beating too fast as you turned to look at the darkened staircase leading up to the second floor. The attic? You had barely been able to stomach walking through the front doors, let alone venturing into the bowels of the ancient manor—alone.

"Go to the attic... alone?" you repeated, your voice sounding far smaller than you'd intended. The shadows seemed to press closer, thickening the air.

Theo's fingers tightened around your waist, his familiar warmth grounding you for just a moment. You could feel his smirk without needing to look. He loved this, loved teasing you, loved pushing you to your limits just to see how far you'd go. And you hated that it worked every single time.

"Too much for you, love?" he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "Because I can always come with you." His voice dropped lower, becoming a rumbling hum that sent a shiver racing down your spine. "Just imagine—us, together, in the dark... how thrilling that could be."

Your mouth went dry as his words sent your imagination spinning. You could feel the others watching, waiting for your response, but all you could focus on was the heat of Theo's body against yours and the way his fingers trailed possessively down your arm.

Theo's grin widened as he nipped at your earlobe, voice dark with amusement. "What do you say, Y/N? Want me to hold your hand?"

You huffed, pushing away the growing tension. "Shut up," you muttered again, glaring at him in mock irritation, though the playful twinkle in your eyes betrayed the act.

His hand slid from your waist to your lower back, and he leaned closer, whispering, "If you're too scared to go, just say the word. No shame in admitting it."

Your breath caught as his words lingered between you, a challenge wrapped in seduction. You squared your shoulders, unwilling to let him win. You'd spent far too long playing this game with Theodore Nott, and you weren't about to back down now.

"Fine," you said, louder this time as you stepped away from him, brushing his hands off with a deliberate flourish. "But I'm not going alone." You shot him a pointed look. "You're coming with me."

Theo's smirk softened, the gleam of triumph in his eyes unmistakable. "Of course I am," he murmured.

Lorenzo groaned dramatically from his spot on the couch. "Oh, come on, that's cheating! She's supposed to go by herself."

Mattheo chuckled from the other side of the room, shaking his head. "Let them have their fun. At least one of us might get something out of this trip to hell."

Ignoring the banter, Theo wrapped an arm around your shoulders and steered you toward the staircase. The creaking of the old wood echoed through the hall as you ascended, each step a reminder of the isolation waiting above. The air grew colder, thicker, the musty scent of forgotten years clinging to every surface. The hallway stretched out before you, dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the cracked windows.

Theo's grip on you tightened as you reached the attic door, its old wooden frame warped and splintered with age. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, glancing at you with a raised brow. "Ready for this, love?" His voice was soft, teasing, but there was something darker flickering in his gaze, something that made your stomach flip in anticipation.

You hesitated, the weight of the dare pressing down on you like the air in the old manor, thick and suffocating. But with Theo by your side, that familiar heat spreading through your veins, you nodded. "Yeah."

With a smirk, Theo twisted the knob and pushed the door open with a loud creak.

The attic yawned before you—dark, dust-choked, and thick with an eerie stillness that made your skin prickle. Cobwebs clung to the rafters, and the only sound was the faint rustle of wind outside, whispering through the cracks in the walls.

You took a tentative step inside, the floorboards groaning beneath your weight. Theo was right behind you, his presence a steadying force as you ventured further into the darkness. Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, each step sending a pulse of adrenaline through your veins.

There was a four-poster bed lying in the middle of the attic, as if the people who lived here all those years ago had used it as a bedroom.

Theo, ever the opportunist, moved closer, running a finger along the edge of the mattress.

"This place really does have a certain charm, doesn't it?" He turned to you, a wicked glint in his eye. "Almost romantic, don't you think?"

Before you could respond, he pulled you onto the bed beside him, the springs creaking under your combined weight. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close as he nuzzled your neck.

“Romantic? That’s funny. You’re too horny for your own good, Theodore Nott.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, lips grazing your ear. "Guilty as charged, love. But what can I say? You bring out the worst in me."

His hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your hips, slipping under your shirt to tease the sensitive skin of your lower back. His touch ignited sparks across your flesh, and you found yourself arching into him, craving more.

With a deft tug, he pulled your shirt off over your head, tossing it carelessly aside. His gaze raked over your exposed torso, lingering on the swell of your breasts tucked away beneath your bra before meeting your eyes with a smoldering intensity. "Beautiful," he breathed, voice husky with desire. "Absolutely stunning."

He pulled back for a moment, swiftly running a hand over his face. “I actually, um… found some pretty interesting things of yours the other day. In your dorm.”

Your eyes narrowed, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. “What are you talking about?" you demanded, trying to keep your tone steady despite the sudden rush of heat coursing through your veins at the thought of Theo rummaging through your belongings.

Theo's smile widened, an amused glint dancing in his eyes as he reached into his messenger bag. He pulled out a small pink vibrator, waving it tauntingly before setting it on the bedside table. "This little number, for instance," he purred, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I must say, it looks quite impressive."

Next, he produced a purple silicone dildo, holding it aloft like a trophy. "And then there's this... rather large toy you've got stashed away. Quite the collection you've got going on here, love." His gaze flicked back to your face, drinking in your reaction with a knowing smirk.

"How do these magic tricks work, hmm? Do they come with instructions, or are you an expert in carnal delights already?"

You felt your face flush even hotter at the sight of your most intimate belongings being waved around so casually. A surge of anger mixed with humiliation threatened to overwhelm you, but you forced yourself to maintain a facade of nonchalance.

"When did you even find those?” you murmured embarrassedly.

Theo's smirk deepened as he watched the play of emotions across your face—the blush staining your cheeks, the tension in your jaw, the defiant spark in your eyes. It was a delicious combination, one that stirred his blood and set his nerve endings alight with anticipation.

"Last week, when I stayed over at your dorm," he replied casually, as if discussing the weather. "I was looking for some cigs in your nightstand drawer while you were in the shower and well..." He shrugged, a picture of feigned innocence. "They just sort of jumped out at me.”

He traced a finger along the length of the dildo, humming thoughtfully before he moved closer, his fingers trailing up your thigh as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you. "Quite the naughty girl, aren't you, love?" He leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth.

As he kissed you deeply, Theo's hand slid higher, fingers brushing the waistline of your jeans, unbuttoning them before dipping underneath to caress the smooth skin of your inner thigh. His touch was electric, sending shivers racing up your spine as he teased the sensitive flesh mere inches from your core.

"So, tell me, baby," he murmured against your lips, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth along your jawline, nipping at the tender skin beneath your ear. "You prefer this—" He held up the dildo, wiggling it suggestively, “—fake cock when you have the real thing right here, always ready and willing?"

His fingers continued their maddening exploration, inching closer to the heat of your center with each passing second. His thumb rubbed against your clit through the thin barrier of your underwear, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as he continued to tease you.

"I mean, they're cute and all, but nothing compares to the feel of my cock buried deep inside you, does it?" He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered. He gestured to himself, his meaning clear. One hand drifted down to palm the bulge straining against his trousers, a silent invitation, a promise of pleasure.

"Is my girl really that impatient, hm?" he mused, a teasing lilt to his voice. "That she can't just wait for her boyfriend to come and fuck her senseless whenever she needs it?"

His fingers slipped beneath the waistline of your pants once again, teasing along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your breathing hitched as his touch grew bolder, fingertips brushing against your clothed sex with feather-light strokes. The ache between your legs intensified, your panties dampening with each passing second.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through you like a physical caress. "Using these cheap substitutes instead of demanding what she really wants. Why don’t you give me a little demonstration?"

His hand cupped your mound possessively, applying pressure that made you squirm.

You gasped sharply as Theo's fingers pressed against your aching sex, the contact sending shivers racing down your spine. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction, more relief from the throbbing need building within you.

“It’s not like that…” you mumbled. “Just… please…”

"Please what?" Theo arched a brow, a mocking tilt to his lips. "You think you deserve real dick right now after keeping secrets from me? After using toys behind my back like some desperate slut?"

He withdrew his hand abruptly, leaving you aching and empty. Rising from the bed, he stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he leveled you with a stern look. "Strip. Now. Let's see how much of a show you can put on for me."

Theo's gaze raked over your body, his eyes lingering on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips. He licked his lips slowly, deliberately, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Come on, baby. Don’t get shy now. Show me what you've been hiding."

You kicked off your shoes, and as you unclasped your bra, he drank in the sight of your full breasts, nipples pebbling under his heated gaze. Lower still, past the dip of your waist and flare of your hips, until your jeans pooled at your feet, leaving you clad in only a scrap of lace.

“Fuck, look at you," he growled appreciatively, palming the growing hardness in his trousers. "Such a pretty little thing, aren't you? All mine to play with."

He relaxed back on a nearby armchair. "Now then, why don't you show me exactly what these toys of yours can do?"

Theo lounged back in the chair, his eyes never leaving you as you stood there trembling, exposed and vulnerable. A wicked grin spread across his face as he watched you with hooded eyes. “Go on then, sweetheart. Show me how you like to be fucked. Pretend I'm not even here."

As you grasped the dildo, he panted softly, drinking in the sight of your hand wrapped around the smooth plastic. He reached down to adjust his bulge, the fabric of his pants bunching obscenely as he watched you remove your panties.

You leaned back, spreading your legs wide in a lewd display, but you didn’t know what to do with the toy in your hand. Not when he was right in front of you.

A cruel smile played about his lips as he saw the hesitation in your eyes, the reluctance in your movements. "What's wrong, love? Suddenly shy? You weren't shy when you were fucking yourself silly with these, were you?"

With trembling hands, you brought the toy to your lips, flicking your tongue out, tracing the contours, coating it in saliva. Then, you trailed it lower, over your collarbone, between the valley of your breasts. You circled a nipple with the toy's tip, gasping at the sensation.

"There we go. Now, move it down and start rubbing it against your clit. Nice and slow. I want to see you squirm."

He reclined further into the chair, making no move to join you, simply observing your every move with an air of dark amusement.

You whimpered, feeling exposed and humiliated as you followed Theo's instructions. Your cheeks burned with shame as you brought the dildo to your aching sex, rubbing the slick head against your swollen clit.

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, fighting back tears of mortification. But beneath the embarrassment, a spark of arousal ignited, fueled by the knowledge that he was watching you so intently.

Your hips began to rock instinctively, the toy gliding through your wet folds, stroking places that made you shudder and moan quietly. You couldn't meet his gaze, too ashamed to see the smug satisfaction in his eyes.

"That’s my girl… Now, put it inside you where it belongs. Fill up that greedy little cunt.”

With a shaky breath, you aligned the dildo with your entrance, pushing it in gradually. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, and you cried out at the feeling. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you forced yourself to relax, letting the toy sink deeper.

"Fuck, look at you taking it like a good little slut," Theo drawled, leaning forward in his chair to get a better view. He reached down to stroke himself lazily, his thumb rubbing circles over the straining bulge in his trousers.

Reaching for the smaller vibrator on the bed beside you, he tossed it onto the sheets. "Pick it up. I want to hear you scream as you cum all over both of them. Show me how well you can multitask."

Your hands shook as you fumbled for the small device, turning it on with a buzzing whine. You positioned it against your clit, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your core. Your hips rolled faster, the dildo thrusting in and out of your stretched hole in rhythm with the toy's relentless stimulation.

“Come on. Make yourself cum while I watch you rut on that toy like a bitch in heat. I want to hear you moaning like the desperate whore you are.”

Theo's eyes gleamed with sadistic glee as he watched you writhe in ecstasy, your moans echoing off the walls. The obscene sounds of your self-pleasure filled the room, mingling with the creaks of the bed and the soft buzzing of the vibrator.

"That's it, baby. Fuck yourself senseless. Show me just how depraved you can be when you're alone with your filthy toys," he sneered, stroking himself harder through his trousers.

As the pleasure built to a fever pitch, your inner muscles clamped down on the dildo, milking it for all it was worth. With a keening wail, you came undone, your whole body shaking as wave after wave of intense orgasm crashed over you.

"You're so beautiful when you lose control like that," Theo purred.

He sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes burning with a dark hunger as he watched you collapse back onto the bed, spent and panting. "Look at you, covered in sweat and cum... Such a lovely mess."

He rose slowly, unbuckling his belt and freeing his aching cock. It sprang forth, thick and pulsing, already leaking precum. With a wicked grin, he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your splayed thighs.

Theo grabbed your wrists roughly, pulling them above your head and securing them to the headboard with silky ropes. He repeated the process with your ankles, spreading your legs obscenely wide and tying them to the footposts.

"Just relax, love. This won't hurt a bit," he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he bound your wrists above your head to the headboard.

Once you were completely immobilized, he stepped back to admire his work, licking his lips as he drank in the sight of your helpless, exposed body.

"I think it's time I took my turn playing with you," he rasped, trailing a finger along your slick slit. "Open up for me, sweetheart. Let me fill this greedy cunt with something real."

Theo's fingers probed your dripping entrance, circling the rim before pushing inside. He groaned low in his throat at the feel of your velvety walls clenching around him. "Fuck, you're still so tight... Even after all that."

He worked two fingers deep, pumping them slowly as he watched your face contort with pleasure. His thumb found your sensitive clit, rubbing firm circles over the bud. "I bet you'd love to have my cock instead, wouldn't you? To feel me splitting you open, filling you up until you can't take anymore?"

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Tell me you need it. Beg me to fuck you raw."

Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, your body trembling from the aftershocks of your intense climax. As Theo's fingers delved into your sensitive flesh, you bit your lip hard, trying to stifle the moans that threatened to spill free.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the image of him replacing those fingers with his thick, throbbing cock making your pussy clench hungrily. You wanted it, craved the sensation of being stretched and filled beyond capacity.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Please, I need it. I need you inside me."

Theo smirked as he heard your breathy pleas, his ego swelling at the power he held over you. “Such a dirty, needy girl for me, aren’t you?”

With a growl of triumph, he lined himself up, the blunt head of his member nudging insistently at your entrance. In one swift motion, he hilted himself inside you, stretching you deliciously around his thick girth.

"Fuck!" he snarled, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in. The bed frame rattled with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound of flesh smacking against flesh filling the room. Theo set a brutal pace, pounding into you with single-minded focus, determined to make you scream.

Theo's hand shot down beside your body, grasping the vibrator. He turned it up to its highest setting, the intense vibrations making your entire pelvis quiver.

"This should really get you going, doesn't it?" he sneered, grinding the toy against your clit with each punishing thrust. "Feeling my cock splitting you open while this thing eats at your poor little pussy..."

His words were punctuated by the lewd slap of skin on skin as he continued to rail into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each brutal stroke. The dual sensations of the vibrator and his cock driving into you relentlessly pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body jerked violently as the vibrator hit full force, the intense vibrations making your clit throb in time with Theo's merciless thrusts. The restraints held you in place, forcing you to submit to every punishing stroke, every deep, grinding push against your cervix.

Pleasure and pain blurred together, the overwhelming sensations threatening to short-circuit your mind. Tears streamed down your face, your vision blurring at the edges as you teetered on the brink of another explosive orgasm.

Your toes curled, your back arching as much as the bonds would allow, trying to take him even deeper.

You cried out, writhing around, the restraints holding you back as he used you mercilessly, tears pricking your eyes. His free hand grabbed at your tits, roughly squeezing them as his thumb flicked over your nipple.

"Don't hold back now, cum for me, pretty girl," Theo commanded, his own climax rapidly approaching.

Theo felt your walls spasming wildly around him, signaling your impending orgasm. He redoubled his efforts, pistoning into you with ruthless intensity as the vibrator buzzed against your clit.

"That's it, baby, make a mess for me,” he muttered, his own release coiling tightly in his abdomen.

Your cry of ecstasy echoed through the room as you shattered, convulsing beneath him in the throes of an intense climax. Theo rode out your waves of pleasure, prolonging your orgasm with deliberate thrusts.

Just as he was about to crest the peak himself, he abruptly pulled out, leaving you empty and aching. With a few quick strokes, he spilled his seed across your stomach and chest, painting you in his essence.

Theo collapsed beside you on the bed, chest heaving as he caught his breath. After a moment, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side.

"I love you, baby.” He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch soothing as he wiped a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your face. “Let’s clean you up.” And with a flick of his wand, the white fluids covering you were gone.

“Our friends probably think we’re dead by now, you know. We’ve been up here for so long,” you murmured.

“Darling, I’m pretty sure they’re smart enough to know that the screaming coming from up here wasn’t because of ghosts.”

kinktober taglist: @mattheoriddles-slutt @theeslutintheroom @esmerai-artemis @gigival @cloudyyydayzzz @sn000py @abeoavita @yesiamthatwierd @shaquilles-0atmeal @roseofsharron438 @iouinotes @romantasyreader28 @c3liaaaaa @daenerystorgaryen @emma-grace0 @tori-303 @ilovehpb0ys

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[crookedteethed]

18+ - mdni

ᥫ᭡. rafe fucks you while you're peacefully sleeping.

It was 2 a.m., and Rafe had been feeling restless. He could sense the strain burning in his eyes, yet every time he tried to close them, he found himself opening them again.

Unbidden, an uncontrollable urge to see you sleeping, peaceful and vulnerable, filled his mind. Even in wakefulness, he couldn't resist sneaking a glance at your serene figure. A smirk crept across his lips as he marveled at how adorably innocent you looked in sleep, unaware of the dangerous desires stirring within him.

Sleep had eluded him.

He let out an exasperated groan before flinging the sheets off of his toned body and padding barefoot to the balcony.

The crisp night air kissed his skin as he looked out at the moonstruck streets of Kildare.

Seeking solace, he ignited two blunts on the patio, but even that wasn't enough to calm Rafe's racing mind. He was far from ready to succumb to sleep.

As Rafe slunk back into bed, he caught sight of your body sprawled out in a tantalizingly fuckable manner. Your sleep shirt barely covered your unclothed mound, and with your hands raised above your head and legs spread wide, you were an irresistible invitation.

Rafe's thoughts turned to all the preverted things he wanted to do to you in that vulnerable position.

But he couldn't, could he? Could he resist the temptation?

It was never something you both openly discussed - Rafe taking advantage of you while you slept.

Maybe Rafe secretly fantasized about waking up to you pleasuring him, promising to marry you if it ever happened, but he didn't know how you would react to being awakened by him fucking you.

Rafe assumed that the only way to find out is to try it.

Rafe's adventurous spirit burned within him, daring him to push the boundaries and explore every inch of your body. As he lay beside you, his mind raced with thoughts of ravishing you while you slept peacefully, the thrill of your ignorance driving him wild.

As Rafe gazed at your sleeping form, desire pooled in his belly. He gently pulled back the covers, lifting your shirt just a tab to reveal your bare skin in the dim moonlight.

With feather-light touches, he caressed your thighs, parting them slowly. His fingers danced higher, teasing your folds. A soft sigh escaped your lips, but you didn't stir.

Emboldened, Rafe positioned himself between your legs. He entered you with agonizing slowness, watching your face for any sign of waking. When fully sheathed inside your warmth, he began to move in long, languid strokes. The sensations were intoxicating - your tight heat enveloping him as he rocked against you.

Rafe hungrily studied your face, committing every detail to memory as he thrust deeply into your wetness. Your plump lips were parted in ecstasy, revealing a glimpse of your pearly teeth as you moaned softly. Your brows furrowed with pleasure, a sign that Rafe's cock was hitting all the right spots. You were an intoxicating sight to him, driving him wild with desire.

Rafe found himself taking your thigh and hitching it up to angle your hips in a position that allowed Rafe to sink himself deep.

With your leg hitched higher, Rafe sank even deeper inside you. The new angle sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, causing you to arch your back instinctively. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep and arousal.

"Rafe?" you murmured, voice thick with desire.

He stilled for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden awakening. But the sight of your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils spurred him on. He captured your lips in a searing kiss as he resumed his rhythm, more urgently now.

"Is this okay?" he breathed against your mouth.

In response, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your hands roamed his muscled back as you met his thrusts with your own. The room filled with the sounds of your shared passion - skin on skin, breathless moans.

"More than okay," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

Rafe groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. You tilted your head, giving him better access as he kissed and nipped along your throat.

The coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter with each deep thrust. Rafe's movements grew more erratic, a telltale sign he was close. You clenched around him, relishing the way he shuddered in response.

"I'm not going to last much longer," he panted, reaching between your bodies to stroke your most sensitive spot.

Stars exploded behind your eyelids as the dual sensations pushed you over the edge. You cried out Rafe's name, your release washing over you in waves of ecstasy.

The pulsing of your inner walls triggered Rafe's own climax. He groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt as he found his release. For several long moments, you clung to each other, bodies trembling in the aftermath.

Slowly, Rafe lifted his head to gaze down at you. His eyes were soft, filled with warmth and something that made your heart skip. He brushed a tender kiss against your lips before carefully withdrawing and rolling to the side, pulling you with him.

You nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as the sweat cooled on your skin. A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the occasional crackle from the dying fire.

"That was…" you murmured, searching for the right word.

“Incredible,” Rafe finished, pressing a kiss to your body. Wrapped in his arms, Rafe could finally drift off into a blissful sleep close to you.

ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊ tag list

@alexxavicry @nemesyaaa @rafestoothbrush @trapistani @theeternaloptimistt @scne-vampire @lilithblackkk @cryinghorny @futuremrscameron @littlelamy @elmolovesw33d @faephoria @cute-sucker @percysley @zyafics @zyafics-recs @sleepiibunniiii @maybankslover

as always, reblogs and comments keeps me motivated. 🫶🏾

[squiddoodlebug]

Hi if you use torrent I found the restored version of one way passage in yts.mx

NO WAY..... I honestly thought I would just never get to watch it so. thanks a lot!!

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[musicshelfwithmustard]

Enjoy A Summer's Day with Lucy Crisp

Mustard had the pleasure of speaking with Nottingham's Lucy Crisp. Together we discussed their influences, most recent television interview, upcoming single "One Summers Day", and so much more!

Mustard had the pleasure of speaking with Nottingham’s Lucy Crisp. Together we discussed their influences, most recent television interview, upcoming single “One Summers Day”, and so much more! 1. Mustard is grateful to have you join them at Music Shelf. How are you doing today? Thank you for having me and I’m great but how’re you? 2. You began songwriting at the age of twelve. What kind of…

[illyrianbitch]

Safe

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel's night is troubled by a nightmare. He finds a soothing remedy in the arms of his mate.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, nightmares, slight mention of gore, death, and torture. fluff, sensual, slow, sleepy sex!!

Word Count: 3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

All that surrounded him was screaming— sharp and jarring sounds that filled the air, echoing against stone walls. Bodies littered the ground, twisted and broken, red and bloodied, faces contorted in agony. If he squinted hard enough, Azriel could force the colors to blur together, could convince himself that the crunching underneath his boots was the sound of crisp, fallen Autumn leaves— not bones. Not the people he’d killed.

Somewhere, a fire roared, consuming everything in its path, turning the world into an inferno of despair. He felt it in his hands, felt a burst of agony and pain. He heard crying somewhere distant, somewhere far enough to where it became white noise— but his own cheeks were wet. He was crying too. His hands were on fire. He was eight again. And nothing had changed.

A face—your face—emerged, eyes wide and red-rimmed, tears streaking down your cheeks as you sobbed uncontrollably. You mouthed something, the words strained and straggled as you attempted to scream. He swore it was his name that your lips let out, that you were begging for help.

Azriel sprang up, his heart pounding as a thin sheen of sweat ran down his body in a cold chill. 

His gaze landed on two things first: the nightstand, where Truth-Teller was carefully, purposefully tucked into the side of the wood, and then to you—his beautiful, sleeping mate.

Azriel's chest tightened, the fear and anguish from the dream slowly dissipating as he focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still, remnants of his nightmare clung to him like a shroud. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. 

The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of moonlight through the thin white curtains. Azriel took a deep breath, grounding himself in the reality of your presence, the safety of your shared bed. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and careful, as if afraid to wake you. He smiled at your sleeping form, at how he wasn’t uncomfortable with his scarred hands against your skin— not anymore. 

His shadows seemed to be sleeping as well, their dark forms curled around you protectively. All except for one lone tendril which hovered near Azriel, an insomniac companion mirroring his unrest. He let it twist lazily around his hand as he withdrew it from your face. 

You stirred slightly, murmuring something in your sleep, and Azriel felt a wave of relief wash over him. He leaned back against the headboard, still breathing heavily, but the rhythm gradually calmed. He positioned his wings into a comfortable lay behind him. 

Azriel closed his eyes, welcoming thoughts of the first time he’d met you. He reminded himself that you were here, beside him, and wouldn’t be taken away. His mind replayed the memory of your first meeting, of the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him— he had been a goner since that first day. He thought about your first kiss next, how nervous he had been, how you took his hands and pressed your lips to his, how your lips tasted of berry from the pie you both shared. The memories combined with the smell of you, with the warmth of your body next to him, slowly soothed the last remnants of his terror.

“Az?” 

His eyes shot open and he looked over as you lifted yourself up, rubbing your tired eyes—still heavy-lidded and soft. The shadows around you stirred, a few of them joining the lone one that drifted around Azriel's hands.

“My love, did I wake you?” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. “No, not completely.”

Azriel's eyes softened as you shifted closer, moving to rest atop him. He extended his wing to wrap around you protectively, a hand moving to pull you in closer.

Your bare hand came to rest on his chest and he shivered at the touch, at the chill of your skin in contrast to the warmth of his own. He grimaced at the sheen of sweat that still persisted against his skin, but you paid no mind as you extended your palm across his chest.

You gave a small laugh, the sound soft and sleepy. Azriel’s heart fluttered at it and he found himself craving for the sound to be emitted once more— over and over again until he could savor it enough to be satisfied. Not that he ever could be— satisfied, that was. He never had enough when it came to you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, your lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

Azriel smiled lazily at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss tenderly. “You and your ice hands,” he teased gently, brushing his lips against your knuckles. 

You leaned further into him, nuzzling against his chest. “Well, you moved away in your sleep. I was left alone and cold.”

Azriel gave you a small laugh, though it held a trace of lingering unease as your words settled in his chest. Alone and cold. His eyes glazed over slightly, now looking past the moment he was in and into something much darker— momentarily reliving the memory of his nightmare. 

You placed your hand back on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He blinked once, twice, and then he was back in his bed, arms wrapped around you.

Azriel's fingers traced the contours of your face, his touch light and reverent— sacred almost, as if he were touching a prized treasure, something holy. He moved slowly, committing every detail to memory, ensuring you were real, that you were there before him. He took it all in—the curve of your lips, the softness of your cheeks, the warmth in your eyes. Mate, his shadows whispered into his ears, Your mate. Mate, mate, mate. 

Safe.

His hand cupped your cheek and the golden thread within him sang—- a sweet, beautiful, haunting melody that pushed away the tension building in his shoulders. 

“I’m here,” you said softly, your own hand rising to cover his, grounding him in your touch. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Azriel nodded, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. “Good,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You stared at one another for a moment, the dimly lit room filled with a comforting silence, something peaceful and safe. Slowly, you moved your hand to his face, your fingers brushing lightly over his cheek. You leaned up, closing the distance between you, and brought him into a kiss.

The kiss was tender and kind, and Azriel felt everything about love within it— comfort, trust, and a promise. He pulled you in closer, his hand wrapping around you, while the other held your face gently, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You were his. And he was yours in return. 

Azriel deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, his tongue gently exploring your mouth. A soft whimper escaped you, the sound sending a wave of pleasure through his body, tightening at the core of his stomach. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes searching yours, dark with desire and affection. You only pulled him back in, your body pressing against his, a needy grind that ignited a fire within him, an insatiable need to be even closer to you, to feel you in a manner that was only granted to him. 

With a swift, fluid movement, he rolled you both so you were on your back and he was hovering above you. One hand braced himself on the bed, while the other roamed over your hips and your body, feeling the curves beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. His scarred hands brushed over the silk, the material still gliding against the roughness of his skin.

He pulled his lips from yours, slowly trailing down your neck, peppering burning kisses against your skin. His hand moved up, sliding under your nightdress, tracing the lines of your body. His touch was gentle, exploring every inch of you as if it were the first time.

You arched into him, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a sound that made his heart race even faster. Azriel's hand continued its journey, caressing your thigh, your waist, before finally making it up to your breast, squeezing gently through the fabric.

You let out a sound, a mixture of a breathless gasp and a whimper, and Azriel’s eyes found yours as his fingers grazed over the peak of your hardened nipple. He rolled it between his fingers. 

"Azriel.” 

Your voice trembled with need and something inside Azriel stirred further. This was real, you were real. 

"Yes, my love?" he murmured, his voice husky. His hand continued its slow, torturous movements, thumb brushing over your nipple in a way that made your toes curl. “What is it?”

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath your fingers. You ran a teasing touch along the base of his wings, caressing the sensitive area with a chilled touch. Azriel shivered above you, lowering himself to press further against you.

"I need you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. His eyes fell to your parted lips and his lips curved into a tender smile.

"I'm here, my love," he said softly. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. His tongue teased yours, the taste of him intoxicating. He pulled apart to whisper, “And you are, too.”

You nodded slowly. “I am.” 

Your words were met with a tug deep in your chest that left you breathless. You bit back a moan at the feeling of that sacred thread growing even tauter, at the feeling of his arousal drowning your senses. 

Azriel pushed the strap of your nightdress down, watching as you moved it further to expose your chest to him. He pulled you into another kiss, just as hungry, just as passionate, before he was kissing down your neck once more— down to your collarbone and right above your breast. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

You gasped, your back arching off the bed, pressing yourself closer to him. "Azriel," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair.

He switched to your other breast, giving it the same attention. His fingers brushed over your hip, your thigh, before finally slipping between your legs. He found you wet and ready. The fabric of your dress bunched awkwardly at your waist, but neither of you cared— too tired to bother with maneuvering it over your head, too lost in the desire that flooded your senses. 

Azriel could have teased you, could have made the anticipation agonizing, could have spread his touches so far and light that you were begging him—like usual. Oh how he loved turning you to putty in his hands, watching as you writhed against him. But not tonight, not as he felt you beneath him, as he smelled your sweet arousal.

He spread you open with his hands, holding your legs apart as he took in your glistening core. His touch was tender, reverent, as he brought a finger through your folds, feeling your warmth and wetness. A low groan escaped him. 

"My mate," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm against your most intimate place. “So beautiful.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows to watch Azriel as he dipped a finger inside you. His eyes locked onto yours as he curled his finger inside you, eliciting another soft moan from your parted lips. You arched your back at the sensation, head falling back slightly. 

Azriel brought his mouth to your clit, his tongue teasing and circling the sensitive bud. You looked down at him, mouth slightly open, eyes heavy with desire, and chest heaving. One of your hands went to grab your breast, fingertips tracing where your nipple still glistened with his saliva. Shadows met your hands, twisting around your breasts in a gentle, teasing attention — flitting just above the sensitive hardened peaks. 

Azriel added another finger inside you, stretching and filling you as he continued to lavish attention on your clit. His fingers and shadows worked in tandem, pleasuring you in ways that sent shivers down your spine. Each touch brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy, a simmering, building feeling of pleasure in your core. 

His free hand moved to grip your thigh, holding you steady as he brought you closer to climax. His eyes never left yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your pulse quicken even more. You could feel his fingers inside you, his tongue on you, and the tug of your beautiful bond deep in your chest. 

You let go completely, surrendering to the sensations that filled your body— with a cry of his name, you shattered. 

He lapped up your essence, savoring every drop of your pleasure. Rising above you, chest heaving, he breathed heavily as he looked down at you, something so beautiful, so real, beneath him.

You reached out to him.  "I'm here," you whispered, your voice filled with love and an overwhelming, dripping need. "Please. I need you."

Azriel nodded slowly, his desire mirrored in his eyes as he maneuvered himself to rid himself of his underwear. He returned to you, his body aligning with yours, skin against skin, a tug at the connection that weaved your souls together. 

He hovered above you, hands tracing the curves of your body, savoring how you felt under his hands— Gods, he’d never tire of feeling you, never be close enough. His light, his salvation, his mate.

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss. 

"Anything for you, my love," Azriel whispered against your lips, his voice thick with longing and devotion. The sound of it made you clench everything below the waist. His fingers trailed down your body, finding their way between your legs once more. He guided himself to your entrance, teasingly brushing against you, and the movement elicited a gasp from your lips.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer, hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him into you. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed himself past your folds, a low moan escaping his lips as he sank into you. 

"Fuck," he murmured. "So perfect."

Azriel intertwined your fingers and held your hands gently above you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. With every roll of his hips, he whispered mantras of love, devotion, and praise, his voice a soothing, low cadence against your skin. You greedily drank in every word, feeling them flitter through your body like aphrodisiacs. 

The pace was slow, deliberate, almost lazy compared to the usual fervor with which Azriel ravished you. But it was exactly what he needed—soft, sensual, a reminder that you both existed in this moment, here and now.

You tightened your grip on his hands, urging him closer, wanting to merge your souls as intimately as your bodies were intertwined. Azriel kissed every area of exposed skin, thrusting into you as your cunt welcomed him greedily. 

He pulled out of you as far as he could just to slowly ease into you once again. Each thrust was thoughtful, intentional, and your whimpers grew louder as he continued. Azriel traced his nose over your shoulder, whispering your name to make you turn your head— just enough for him to kiss you. 

Mate, mate, mate. 

Safe.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, savoring your taste and how perfectly your body remembered him— how well you took him. 

He was alive and safe, in a bed that he shared with his mate— a mate that was writhing underneath him as he pushed you to another brink of pleasure.

Azriel's forehead rested against yours and he released your hands gently, allowing you to wrap them around his neck— bringing one to glide along his extended wing, eliciting a shudder throughout his body. 

"I love you," you whispered against him, “I’m here.”

Those words were all it took for Azriel to deepen his movements, for his pace to quicken as he leaned into you more, kissing you deeply as he rolled into you.

With a shared cry of pleasure, you both found release together, bodies trembling as Azriel emptied himself inside you. 

After he pulled out, Azriel spent a moment kissing you tenderly, his lips moving across your skin with reverence and affection. You both swayed together in the aftermath, riding the waves of blissful satisfaction as you lazily kissed one another, limbs still entangled like braided rope. 

He gently pulled himself away and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth and a lazy, adoring smile. Azriel cleaned you up with gentle strokes, his kisses following the path of the cloth as he murmured sweet nothings against your skin. My beautiful mate, my treasure for life. Real, sacred— and all his. Each touch was a whisper of love and care, an intimate ritual that had grown to a routine as the bond deepened between you.

Once he was done, Azriel crawled back into bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, cocooning you with his wing to keep you warm. He didn’t mind those cold fingers of yours, didn’t mind the chills they sent across his body, but tonight he would keep you close, keep you warm. His other hand found yours, placing it gently atop his heart, where you could feel its steady beat, matching yours in perfect rhythm.

Sighing contentedly, Azriel closed his eyes. He let the scent of you fill his nostrils, let the sound of your breathing fill his ears, and soon fell into a blissful, nightmare-free slumber. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

thank u to this anon who suggested i do something like this following my one-shot memories! pls enjoy this lil piece while i work on malice and LCL!! <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @justyouraveragekleemain

@panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[moonchildstyles]

crescent

it's all hallow's eve and y/n shouldn't be in the woods.

wordcount: 5.1k+

tw: there is a large section describing some scary animal (wolf) stuff w descriptions of blood and the breaking of bones! everything turns out the wya it should tho don't worry!

—————

With every step, the brush under (Y/N)'s feet crackled. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under her weight, the loudest noises that could be heard in the forest. The hoots of owls nearby and howls of wolves far off bounced amongst the trees. 

Taking in a deep breath of the crisp air, she readjusted her grip on her skirts as she stepped around a puddle. Every exhale came out in a cool cloud. The basket bouncing against her hip was going to leave a bruise, she was sure. 

Truly, (Y/N) was regretting taking on the responsibility of this trip. Her cousin—and her mother for sending her off, actually—owed her more than just the few loaves of bread she was running to pick up. Especially since Katrina apparently was only available tonight, and was unwilling to make the trip herself despite being in town earlier in the afternoon, anyway. That was (Y/N)'s cousin, though; eccentric and impulsive. 

Just because no one had claimed this land on the outskirts of town, and she had the kind of money to keep everyone's mouths shut if they had any opposition, didn't mean that it was the best idea. Especially so, when it meant that Katrina was tucked away in-between the trunks of trees and craggy brush.

But, (Y/N) supposed that was the price of enjoying time by herself. No husband needed when she had her peace and quiet, Katrina had said.

A chilled breeze swept across her form, goosebumps lighting over her skin, the texture hightlighted under the rays of the full moon. Yeah, (Y/N) thought as she tightened her shawl around her shoulders, there better be more than a couple of loaves of bread involved in this trip. She didn't care if Katrina enjoyed her peace and quiet, not when she was cold and missing out on the town's festivities for the night. 

All Hallow's Eve was one of (Y/N)'s favorite nights of the year. It was the one night that she enjoyed staying out under the moonlight, and actually found joy in the idea of being scared. The last place she wanted to be on a night like tonight, was trudging through the woods on her way to her cousin's home. 

This was one of (Y/N)'s least favorite routes on a regular day, even among the morning hours, let alone doing this in the evening with only the moon to keep her company. The forest around her sang, filling the silence of her trek. 

Though she would never accept the title, she knew she was a bit of a scaredy cat, as Katrina had so lovingly put it when they were children. She avoided focusing on it to keep her wits about her, but the journey was beginning to send an eerie feeling up her spine. 

With every crunching footstep, she swore there were eyes pinned to her. Every brush of her shawl over her bare skin was suddenly an insect crawling into her pores, every hair falling into her face was saliva dripping from an open maw above her head, every chirping animal was a deviant spying on her from the shadows. Shadows were elongated with the help of the moon. Naked tree branches now looked like spindly fingers reaching out to grab her and take her into the earth with them. The smallest creatures skittering over the brush were now out to snatch her away, taking her to their master where she would be nothing more than a banquet table of food. 

This was most definitely not the way she wanted to spend her All Hallow's Eve. The only fun scares were the ones in town square, where the masks of witches and ghosts were strung around, and costumes were nothing more than a dressing game from those that she knew wouldn't hurt even a fly. Not this kind of chilling fear. Not the moments she had to convince herself were only in her head. 

But, truly, (Y/N) knew they were only in her head. There wasn't any deviant in the woods around Katrina's home, let along a monster with rows of teeth or blinking eyes on the moon. It was just her and the critters that could survive the shift of seasons out here. 

She just better be getting more than a couple of loaves of bread for this. 

Tightening the knitted shawl around her body, she pushed on. Katrina's cabin couldn't be that far. 

(Y/N) all but jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud crunch. She swore the sound came from behind her instead of underneath her feet like the moments before. Her steps faltered. Everything inside her wanted to turn around, to prove that it was nothing more than an animal running passed instead of the ghoul she had conjured up. But, just as badly as she wanted to know, she wanted to run away and sprint to Katrina. 

Steeling herself, (Y/N) surged onward. It was really just an animal. She would know if someone was following her. She would have heard something before this. No one could be that quiet. 

Maybe. 

She only made it a few yards further before a rustling of dead leaves sounded. Much closer behind her than before. 

On instinct, she whipped her head over her shoulder. 

Nothing but the bony trees. Shadows pulled thin under the bright moonlight didn't allow for many hiding places. Nothing and no one was to be seen. 

Her heart hammered in her chest, climbing up to the base of her throat as she forced herself to move on. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck, pasting the thin strands of hair there to her clammy skin. Katrina was going to tease her if she didn't get herself in check; she couldn't walk up having this look of fright on her face. 

With her pace quickened, (Y/N) moved on. The basket hanging from the crook of her elbow bounced against her hip with every hastened step. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under her feet, the soft rush of the earth being disturbed under the heel of her boots padded each of her steps. 

She needed to go faster, she urged herself. The faster she made this trade, the faster she made it home, and the faster she was home, the sooner she could join in on the All Hallow's Eve traditions. If she was lucky, Harry Styles might still even be out with his niece and she'll finally have a chance to talk to him and let him know she exists an—

A threatening growl reverberated through the trees. 

A sharp yip fell from (Y/N)'s lips, her lungs squeezed free of air. Despite the cool air around her, she could feel her skin beginning to simmer in fear. Her heart pumped as if in her last moments. 

What was it her mother said? When confronted by an animal, was she to be the bigger, scarier entity? Or was she supposed to lie still and hope they went away? Wait, was she supposed to run and hope they didn't give chase? 

Parts of her began to grow numb, a light tingle appearing in the tips of her fingers as she dared to look at her stalker. 

(Y/N)'s list of fears was long and winding, the kind that had the top spot constantly under fire as new worries were added. In that moment, she couldn't be sure what she was most afraid of seeing when she turned around, only that the not knowing wasn't an option. 

Taking in a deep breath and holding as still as possible, she made the smallest movement to peer over her shoulder. 

Her heart caught in her throat. Though she couldn't see all of it, the beast wasn't something that could be ignored. Not with the way its paws dug deeply into the earth, it's stance spanning as wide as the width of her shoulders. The fur grew in an array of shades of grey, thick and course. In the right light, he looked like nothing more than a shadow, the illusion only broken by the reflection of his black eyes. As much as she saw the heavy breaths the beast exhaled, she could hear it just as well as he drew closer. 

A root snapped under its huge paw, like a bone crunching. The sound had her skin erupting into goosebumps, (Y/N) unable to stop herself from jumping in her spot. The basket hanging from her elbow bumped against the trunk of the tree at her side.

The wolf wasn't pleased by her sudden movement, opening its maw and breathing out a gravelly growl. Its teeth were sharp, incisors coming to a point with the express purpose of ripping and tearing meat from the bone. Saliva gleamed over the teeth, dripping onto the soil at its feet. 

It took another step closer to her. (Y/N) trapped herself with her back to the trunk of the tree. 

Rushes of blood roared through her ears. She couldn't tell if the black touching the corners of her vision were the result of a stray cloud drifting over the moon, or the fact that she could be looking death in the eye as it stalked towards her. 

All for a couple of bread loaves. From Katrina. 

At that moment, (Y/N) felt a spark sink into her stomach. It was surprisingly offensive to think that her death would come on the journey to Katrina's cabin. That was far from fair. 

In what she was sure she would later think of as a stupid move (if she made it long enough to have a later anyway), she dug the toes of her boots into the earth, waiting just long enough to feel one more beat of her heart against her ribs. Then, she took off. 

(Y/N) had to hope this was the lifetime that would allow her to possess the speed to outrun a hellish wolf. Meandering through the trunks of spindly trees, she attempted to cut him off as best as possible, even if the pounding of the beast's feet sounded heavy and close behind her.

She was going to make it, she told herself. Just keep running. Get to Katrina. Get to the edge of the woods. Scream, let anyone else know what was happening. Maybe a hunter was out here—a stupid one for being out so late, but who was she to criticize. She was going to make it, and liv—

A jutting root caught on the tip of her boot. (Y/N) swore the world moved in slow motion as she fell. 

The clouds above stopped. The moon dimmed. The leaves under her turned crystalline. 

This was it. 

Her chin hit the damp earth first, her jaw clamping shut. Her hands stung as she attempted to catch herself, sticks and rocks embedding into her skin. The basket in her arms was crushed under her weight. 

This was it. 

Hopefully, someone would deliver the bread loaves to her mother instead. Hopefully, someone would find her. 

A deafening growl sounded through the forest. Tears filled her closed eyes. 

This was it. 

Until it wasn't. 

The growl had been cut short, killed with a vibrating slam against the forest floor. The static feeling someone looming behind her vanished. Despite the lack of heavy, hot breath fanning across her back, she didn't move. She couldn't trust the sudden change in the air. Her bones stayed stiff as he continued to brace herself against the forest floor. 

Another growl rang through the forest. This one was decidedly different than what she had heard while being stalked. 

There was another beast. That much she could be sure of. 

(Y/N) couldn't decide if it was scarier to not know what was behind her, or to see exactly what the end of her life was going to look like.

When a duo of gravely barks reverberated behind her, the decision was made for her on instinct. Though her gaze was blurry thanks to the tears filling her eyes, she was able to make out the pair of wolves looming behind her. 

But neither of them were looking at her.

Roots and brush dug into her back as she rolled to her back. Neither of them appeared to notice the movement of the prey before them, supernatural eyes pinned on one another. While the initial beast's eyes were reflections of moonlight, colored a primal yellow, the newcomer had emerald crescents at its irises.

This new one was also bigger and broader. (Y/N) had thought the yellow-eyes wolf was large and scary enough, this new one was in a league of its own. She shuddered to think just how easy it would be for this one to swallow her whole. 

Despite how large the emerald-eyed creature was, it was decidedly sleeker than the other. There wasn't anything course and tufting in its brown coat. Sharpened teeth, though just as menacing, lacked the chips and discoloration the other had. It looked less... feral compared to the other; desperate for a chase. 

The emerald-eyed one stepped close to the beast, growling and baring its teeth in intimidation. The rigid posture kept its maw wide over the yellow-eyed one's head, dripping with saliva. A throat growl vibrating from its massive chest. 

(Y/N) almost cringed when she saw the stalking beast refuse to back down despite the size difference presented with the emerald-eyed competitor. She was far from being a meal worthy for death. 

Neither refused to back down, but at least they didn't spare even a single look in her direction. Now was the time to flee, get away from there and to Katrina before another nasty foe caught wind. 

She didn't think before she scrambled to her feet and ran. She had to hope that the competition presented by the two wolves would allow enough cover to get her safely away. 

Every hope of that was dashed when it only took a handful of moments before pounding footsteps sounded behind her. At least she had a head start. 

The world around her was directionless as she attempted make sense of the trees she should be much more familiar with. She just needed to get away, as far as she was concerned. If she was able to make it to Katrina, even better. 

Sweat slipped down her back, her shawl hanging from her shoulder. Branches caught on her dress. Roots attempted to trip her. The cold air didn't want to work with her lungs, every breath feeling that much more stilted. All while being pursued by animals that shouldn't exist—not like this. 

Just as she swore she saw the backside of Katrina's cottage, between large trunks and spindly branches, one of the two beasts skidded in front of her. She hadn't heard the change in direction, but there were still footsteps sounding behind her. 

(Y/N) was forced to stop, keeping herself from bashing into the chest of one of the wolves. But that kept her stationary just for the other to close in behind her. 

She wasn't sure when, but tears slipped down her cheeks. The moisture stung the cuts on the planes of her face, searingly hot against her chilled skin. 

There was no way out this time. 

Especially not when the beast in front of her, the one with glinting green eyes, started charging towards her. 

Pressing in on herself, (Y/N) fell to the floor. It was a fruitless attempt, she was sure, but she curled her arms around her head, rolling into a ball between the brush and roots. There was a chance, however small, that she may be harder to eat and swallow like this. 

At her back, the pounding paws were louder across the forest floor. It was there, just behind her. 

She wondered if she could feel each bite as her flesh was torn from her bones, or if she would die before then. 

Peeking between her curled arms, (Y/N) saw the emerald-eyed beast close in on her. His maw was open wide, a menacing growl sounding through the forest. 

Just as she expected to feel the last dredges of the cold air and every piece of her body connected to one another, the beast leapt. Right over her head. And onto the wolf at her back.

Crunches that sound did a lot like broken tree branches rang through her head. But, (Y/N) knew, she wasn't sure how, that those cracks weren't from the forest. That was the snap of bones. She was sure. 

Whimpers were now interspersed with the gravely growls, pitches and devastating. Cracks and crunches tore the rhythm apart. 

One of them was dying behind her. 

(Y/N) couldn't look. She didn't want to see what kind of carnage was taking place behind her. All she knew was that the silence that shortly followed a particularly screeching whine was the sign of an ended fight. The elimination of competition—and her only safety in the form of distraction.

Along with the blood pudding around her boots.

Her body felt faint, her head too heavy for her neck. She was out of chances. 

It was then that she hoped she actually wasn't that close to Katrina's cabin. She didn't want her cousin to wake to a sight like this. 

A humid puff of air fanned across the back of (Y/N)'s neck, moving the baby hairs pasted to the nape. A quiet whimper tore from her throat, eyes stinging with more tears. 

Take her throat first, she wanted to beg. Kill her quickly. 

Instead of the hot slice of teeth through her flesh, she felt the nudge of a wet nose against her neck. A chuff sounding. 

(Y/N) sat still. Blood began to creep up the hem of her dress, sticking to her ankles. 

Another small chuff. A whine so broken and breathy. A whoosh of air bloomed at her side. 

Forcing herself to peel her head up, she saw the brown wolf, green-eyed and sleek, laying at her side. It looked up at her with bright eyes, something knowing flashing through them. Despite its large frame and bloody maw, it looked almost pathetic with its puppy-dog eyes and crossed paws. 

The beast had saved her. Unless this was an advanced species, having adapted a wolfy version of manipulation, this beast had saved her and wanted her to... live. 

She blinked at the beat. Still with a beating heart in her chest and each of her limbs attached to her body. 

This wasn't it. The beast before her wasn't her death. 

A savior, more like it. 

The pressure in her body came to a head, her ribs seemingly collapsing as sobs wracked her body. 

(Y/N) reached towards her savior, fingers skating through its bloody fur. Warmth seeped into her fingers at the touch, drawing her that much closer before practically falling into the beast.

The wolf reacted only in small scoots of its body coming closer, sharing it's warmth and comfort with her. Quiet chuffs sounded as it nosed at her neck. 

"You saved me," she whispered, the words watery and thin. "Y-You saved me." 

Though she would have normally scoffed at the idea of any part of this animal being knowing or intelligent, what she had seen tonight had showed her that there was nothing ordinary about this beast. She believed he knew what she was talking about when it cuddled closer to her, giving a small yip before its rough tongue tentatively licked over her neck. 

Not even a flinch was given at the contact. 

The beast had saved her and was now sharing its warmth with her. It was comforting her as if language was irrelevant when it came to communication.

(Y/N) wasn't sure how long she stayed wrapped around this creature, only that the chill had seeped from her body but her bones were incredibly stiff when she finally unfurled. Her tears had ran dry like the blood seeping from her injuries. 

The green eyes of the beast matched her own gaze, large and round as it took her in. It nosed at her chin, a chuff fanning over her skin. 

"My—" she cut herself off to clear her throat from the croaky state of her voice, "My cousin, she lives over here. I-I need to go to her." The loaves of bread were at the absolute bottom of her list, but a warm home was at the top. "W-Will you... stay?" 

In the back of her head, (Y/N) wanted to be concerned about the state of her sanity. But she knew, deep in the pit of her stomach, that this creature understood her. He knew what she was saying, what she was asking. 

Especially when it stood to its full height, head bobbing as if in a nod. 

The beast allowed her to grab his scruff to steady her as she stood to her feet. Every bone in her body suddenly became aware of how hard she had pushed herself to stay alive. Aches and bruises bloomed over her body. She stumbled, only for the wolf to sidle up to her, giving more support. 

"Sorry," she murmured, keeping her grip tight on the wolf as they started towards Katrina's cabin. 

Standing side by side, (Y/N) was hyperaware of just how large this creature was. The tufts of its ears peeked over her own head, leaving her at eye level with the beast. Her gait was stilted, but the wolf stayed at her side, though she was sure it could cover miles in less time than it would take her to move yards away. She could feel the probing gaze it gave her with each step, a primal feeling of concern bubbling behind its eyes. 

Katrina's cabin came into view, a kind of relief flooding her system that had her heart cracking. She could have fallen to her knees, thanking whatever deity it was that had kept her in its sights this evening. Though, she figured she knew well which one she needed to start with.

"Thank you," she murmured, a sad smile touching the corner of her lips as she looked to her creature. She slowed to a stop at the backside of Katrina's cottage, her kitchen window in view, complete with warm amber lighting seeping into the forest. A beacon. 

The beast butted its head against her shoulder. 

"You saved me," she repeated, visibly drooping. If not for the grip she had on his neck, she was sure she would have fallen. "Thank you." 

Another chuff. Another affectionate head-butt against her arm. 

The beast tipped its head just so, meeting her eyes under the pale moonlight. 

Emerald irises glimmered. So human, with understanding floating through them. 

As well as something far more familiar than should be seen in an animal. 

(Y/N) was well aware of just how deeply traumatizing this trek had become, but she refused to think it a crack in her sanity when she swore that the beasts eyes were ones she had seen before. A green so unique and enthralling.

A green she had only ever seen in the gaze of Harry Styles. 

The mayor's son. The shy man who had plucked (Y/N)'s attention every time he walked into the room, even if he didn't even know she existed.

The eyes of a human man. 

Maybe she was cracking already. 

She tipped her head just so, the wolf's eyes following the movement. 

"You... Your eyes...They—" 

(Y/N) was suddenly cut off at the clattering sound of Katrina's dingy door behind pushed open. 

"(Y/N)? Is that you?! You were supposed to be here hours ago!" 

Whipping her gaze to where Katrina was rounding the front of her home, peering around the porch and right to where she was standing. 

Right next to the wol—

A branch snapped in the forest. Moonlight glinted off a slick, blood-matted fur. The creature was gone, disappearing into the forest. Only the ghost of its warmth remained. 

"Oh, lord—(Y/N)! What happened?! Are you okay?"

Katrina raced towards her. No wolf was to be seen, no large creature that had saved her. 

"The w-wolf," she muttered, voice broken like the skin of her lips, "He—Katrina—" 

"What wolf?" her cousin asked, approaching (Y/N) with concerned eyes and worried features, "(Y/N), you're bleeding. What happened?!" 

"There... There were two wolves," she muttered, distractedly looking to her cousin, "One of them... It saved me." 

Katrina pinned her bottom lip between her teeth. Gentle hands landed on (Y/N)'s biceps. 

"Let's get you inside. You need to warm up, and then we can talk about everything. Okay?" 

(Y/N) didn't remember agreeing to the proposition, but she knew she made it inside the cottage. That was where, beside the fire, she had to wonder if what she had seen—the wolves, the glimmering eyes, the supernatural size and strength of the creatures—was even real. 

If she really had seen the eyes of Harry Styles in the sockets of a deadly beast. 

—————

"You are never going out like that again, (Y/N). Katrina isn't even that talented at baking!" 

(Y/N) cracked a smile at her mother's fretting. It had been this way all morning after Katrina had escorted her home. (As well as three loaves of bread and every pastry left to spare). 

"I won't, mother," (Y/N) vowed, just the same as she had the first dozen times her mother had made the same declaration. 

"Two wolves," she muttered, flying back to the kitchen to stir the soup simmering on the stove, "I cannot believe that kind of evil—so close! This town..." 

More angered mutterings sounded from the kitchen, but were cut off at the sound of a knock at the door. Before she could move a single inch from where she had been stationed on the couch,(Y/N)'s mother shouted that she would grab the door—do not move!

She watched as her moth pulled open the door, the guest being shielded from (Y/N)'s view. But she heard the voice. 

One that caused her heart to spike. Today, for a slightly different reason than the usual. 

Harry Styles was here. 

"Oh, thank you, Harry! She is going to love this, thank you." 

A rumbling tone sounded around her mother. (Y/N)'s name tossed in the mixed. 

"She's still very fragile, but you may come in and speak to her if you'd like." 

(Y/N)'s spine straightened. The sound of floorboards creaking under foreign weight filled her small home. Harry's head peeked over her mother's, complete with waving curls, a rich brown. The kind that would have gleamed so prettily under a clear, moonlit night. 

Harry's eyes met her as her mother escorted him inside. 

Green.

Unique and enthralling. 

A soft smile bloomed over his lips. "Hello," he greeted her, (Y/N)'s mother disappearing into the kitchen. "How are you feeling?" 

"I am alright," (Y/N) nodded, attempting to sit up before Harry urged her to stay just where she was. 

"No, don't move. You are alright hurt enough," he muttered, coming to crouch at the side of the chaise. Concern floated in his eyes—the kind of concern that (Y/N) almost wanted to place as guilt. 

"I really am alright. I look worse than I feel," she attempted to joke, though it fell flat when Harry only trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. 

A familiar circuit was run over the planes of her face, taking stock of every slight injury. 

Just like the emerald-eyed wolf. 

"I gave it to your mother, but my family put a few things together for your recovery. I hope they're able to bring you some comfort." He dropped his gaze from hers. "I cannot imagine going through what you did. You are incredibly brave." 

A warmth bubbled along her skin. At least that part was still normal—she was not immune to a dimple and pretty hair. 

"I wouldn't call myself brave, but I appreciate your words," she muttered, a bit sheepish at his praise, "All I did was run." 

"Sometimes, that is the smartest move to make," Harry murmured, a lopsided smile on his strawberry-hued mouth. "I am just glad you are alright. I've been worried sick since I heard the news." 

Her heart caught in her throat. He knew she existed—enough to worry about her well-being. 

"I am," he started, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, "so happy to see you. Please call on me if you need anything to help your recovery—anything at all."

"Um, I-I can do that." 

The dimpled smile that bloomed over his face was enough to have her throat clogged and lungs stilted. With a face this pretty, it was increasingly harder to find the similarities between the man before her and the blood-matted wolf in the woods.

"If it's alright with you," Harry started, voice dropping a tone lower as if sharing a secret, "I would like to request that if you ever need to make that trek again, that someone accompany you. Myself, included." 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she was nodding her head. "I can do that." 

"Thank you," he smiled, a breathy laugh floating through his voice, "I am unable to stay long today, but I would like to check in on you this week. If that's alright with you." 

Tempering her reaction as much as she could, (Y/N) only gave a demure nod as Harry stood to the full of his height. "I don't have much else going on, but I suppose I can fit you into my schedule." 

Her tease was enough to draw a laugh from him. An achievement, as far as she was concerned. 

"I will see you tomorrow, then? If you're not already occupied," he played along, edging towards the open door. "And, please,"—he paused, the intensity of his gaze sitting squarely on her—"if you see another wolf with those yellow-eyes, tell me. Those seem to be more dangerous than the others." 

The next moments passed in a haze. She was sure Harry said goodbye to her mother and made plans for the following day. She was sure her mother praised Harry's kindness, talking him up to (Y/N) as if she didn't already know. She was sure her heart continued beating and her lungs continued filling. 

She was sure the world continued on, even when her mind stood still.

(Y/N) hadn't told anyone about the yellow eyes. 

—————

thank u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes but if you have any fun requests or anything at all please send them in!!!!

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl x Reader

season 1 Daryl

MDNI: smut

inspo: @heathermason6060's inexperienced Daryl & this ao3 story

notes: I barely proofread this after my first reread sorry

Ever since you’d joined the group—a girl they found out in Atlanta around the same time they brought Rick back—you didn’t fully fit in with anyone. People never really knew how to talk to you, and every conversation anyone overheard was always short and clipped. Maybe you were shy, or maybe still getting over something lost when the world turned upside down. But Daryl watched you—always watching, weirdly drawn to you in a way that he couldn’t figure out.

That feeling, whatever it was, twisted his stomach every time he got close. He didn’t know what it was, only that he wanted to be near you, wanted to catch even the smallest glance or word. Hell, he didn’t even need to be close; the thought of you was enough to send his stomach into knots.

After a while, he even started to wonder what it’d be like to talk to you beyond the short words you’d exchanged about ammo or food or anything survival-related. He thought about what the hell he’d even say, what you might like to talk about, but every time he tried to picture it, he went blank. His older brother wasn’t exactly the type to teach him how to talk to women; Merle had his own ways that usually ended up with people pissed off or storming off, and Daryl wasn’t about to mess this up by being like that. He’d be careful. Real careful.

One night, the fire is burning low, and everyone else has already drifted to their tents. Daryl sits by the embers, debating whether he should finally head back to his tent now that he’s alone—just him and the dying fire. It feels odd not having Merle around to tell him where to be and when. He has to figure out what he actually wants to do instead of just being in the man’s shadow. Just as he’s about to call it a night, you appear from your tent, looking restless and rubbing at your eyes. When you notice him sitting alone, you pause, then make your way over to him and sit down—not across from him but, to his horror and excitement, right beside him on the log. His stomach lurches, something strange twisting as he glances at the way the moonlight catches the curve of your thigh, making him wonder—just for a second—what your skin might feel like beneath his fingers.

You sigh beside him. “Can’t sleep,” you mutter, groaning a little as you rub the heels of your hands into your eyes. When you drop them, you give him a tired, curious look. “What’re you still doin’ out here?”

Daryl swallows, caught off guard. You’ve never really talked to him directly before, and he peels his eyes away from your thigh, feeling his cheeks burn a little when he realizes you’ve caught him staring. He shrugs, muttering something about ‘keeping watch’ under his breath.

You just nod, and he figures the conversation is over. But then, you pull a near-empty pack of cigarettes from your back pocket and slip one between your lips, flashing a faint smile to yourself.

“Look what I found today,” you say casually, shaking the box, sparking his interest as you glance at him. “Still got that lighter?” You nod toward his jeans, and his hand shoots to his pocket, rubbing his clammy fingers against the fabric before pulling out his Zippo. He holds it up, flicking the fire to life, watching your lips purse as you pull the smoke from the cigarette into your mouth, igniting the small stick. He catches the faintest scent of you, something clean—crisp apples, maybe from the soap found on the run today—despite the dirt and sweat of this life. His hand shakes slightly as the flame catches, and the tip of your cigarette glows bright.

You pull back, taking a long drag and exhaling softly through your nose. “Thanks,” you say, the word quiet, almost lazy, savoring the feeling. You hold the pack out to him, and he hesitates for a second before taking one, avoiding the brush of your fingers.

He slips the cigarette between his lips and flicks the lighter again, but this time the spark sputters out before a flame can catch. He flicks it a few more times, his hand trembling harder now under your quiet gaze. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, trying again. Nothing.

“Here,” you say, your voice calm but amused as you gesture for him to lean in. “Hold still.”

Daryl freezes, the cigarette twitching slightly between his lips as he says, “What’re ya—”

“I won’t bite, Daryl,” you tease gently, cutting him off with a faint smirk. The way you say his name, soft and easy, sends a jolt through him, like you’ve said something far more intimate. His knees would probably buckle if he were standing, but he stays rooted to the spot, barely breathing as you scoot closer.

You bring your lit cigarette up to his, the glowing tip inches from his mouth. He leans in stiffly, his lips fidgeting as he tries to hold still, but his hands won’t stop trembling, and the two cigarettes don’t quite line up. You huff a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly.

“Hold on,” you murmur, and before he can say anything, your free hand comes up to steady his chin. His breath catches as your fingers brush against the stubble on his jaw, tilting his face just enough to keep him from moving any more. Your touch is light, careful, but it’s enough to make him go completely still, his heart hammering in his chest.

As he pulls the cigarette to life, your eyes catch his, and suddenly your hand feels like it’s on fire. You wrench it away as quickly as you can, your body leaning back with it. His gaze, still fixed on you, is wide and unguarded, staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. The embers of your cigarettes glow softly between you in the dark night air, catching in his wild blue irises, and for a moment, the world feels far too still.

You clear your throat, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you feel…” You trail off, uncertain of the right word. Uncomfortable? Creeped out?

Daryl doesn’t move. He keeps staring at you, the cigarette held tightly between his lips, as if he’s stunned. Then, he pulls in another breath, his mouth opening slightly, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. You catch the faintest flush rising along his neck, and you feel yourself brighten under his gaze as well.

“It’s fine,” he finally mutters, his voice rough and low, though now he’s avoiding your eyes, not quite meeting your gaze. He fumbles with the cigarette, taking another drag just to give himself something to do.

The tension between you lingers, the fire starting to die softly in the background, but neither of you speaks again. You lean back, pretending to focus on the stars, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you, his eyes darting between the fire and your profile.

Somewhere in the quiet, he exhales slowly, the smoke curling lazily in the moonlight, and though he doesn’t say it out loud, he knows he’s never going to forget the feeling of your fingers on his skin—or the way you’ve looked at him like he isn’t just another face in the group.

Daryl’s knee bounces restlessly as he tries to keep his eyes fixed on the embers of the fire in front of him. It’s too damn hard to focus with you sitting so close, your scent mingling with the smoke and pine in a way that makes his head spin. He doesn’t get why it’s so hard to sit still around you; he’s usually good at disappearing into the background, staying quiet. But with you here, just inches away, he feels like he has a spotlight on him.

“You’re quiet,” you say, your voice jolting him from his thoughts. “What’s on your mind, Dixon?”

His head jerks slightly at the sound of his name, and his lips twitch like he’s trying to come up with an answer. “Nothin’,” he mutters, glancing away quickly. “Just… thinkin’, I guess.”

You arch an eyebrow, leaning back slightly against the log. “Thinkin’ about what?”

He knows he should say something to brush you off, but his mind goes blank. The way you’re looking at him, like you’re waiting for him to crack—it makes him feel trapped and exposed all at once. Heat creeps up his neck even hotter, and he curses himself for it.

“Am I making you nervous, Daryl?” you tease, your voice soft but playful, and he hears the smirk in your tone.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it, looking down at his nails as if they might offer some kind of answer. “I just…” He pauses, breathing in sharply. “Ya make it hard to think straight.”

The words come out rough, almost like a confession he hadn’t meant to say out loud, and he feels his whole body tense, waiting for you to laugh, to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you sit up, and he catches a faint smile on your lips.

“Yeah?” Your arms graze against each other as you lean forward, and he sucks in a sharp breath, trying to keep from shivering at the touch. “And why’s that?”

He clenches his jaw, his fingers twitching against his knee, and he’s got half a mind to just stand up and walk away, leave you here with your questions. But the other half of him is rooted in place, feeling like if he gets up and leaves, he’ll never get this chance again.

He doesn’t say anything, just shrugs and continues staring at you, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he catches himself and looks away. But in that brief glance, something shifts, and you suddenly realize…Daryl’s actually kinda… beautiful, and maybe it just took you being this close up to realize it fully. It wasn’t the obvious kind of beauty that shouts for attention—it was quieter, layered in ways that drew you in the longer you looked. The roughness of his features, the sharp angles of his jaw, and the slightly crooked bridge of his nose that was imperfectly charming. His eyes, a deep, piercing blue even in the low light, carried a depth, like he could unravel you with just one glance if he let himself.

And then there were the softer details—the curve of his lips, perpetually chapped from him always chewing them, but so inviting; the faint freckles scattered across his sun-kissed skin, like a map of every moment he’d spent under the open sky. There was a rugged cuteness in the way his hair fell across his forehead, messy and untamed, framing his face in a way that made you ache to reach out and brush it back. He was all contradictions—rough and tender, guarded and vulnerable—and somehow, that only made him more beautiful. He’s rough around the edges, sure, all grit and wary glances, but there’s something genuine about him that you haven’t seen in anyone else since the world fell apart.

Unlike the others, he’s the only one who doesn’t bristle when you’re a little short with him, the only one who just lets you be, never pushing too hard, never asking for anything. You’d caught him glancing at you more than once, his cheeks turning red as he quickly looked away, and it had left you wondering what it’d be like to close the space between you, to see if he’d keep up that quiet shyness even if you got a little closer. So far, it seems he would.

Before you feel yourself hesitate, you lean in and press your lips to his. 

Whatever had come over you in that instant, Daryl has no idea. His mind reels at how you could possibly want this from him. People didn’t look at him like that. Hell, they barely looked at him at all unless they needed something. He isn’t the kind of man anyone leaned into, let alone kissed like this.

The kiss is soft, tentative, testing, but the moment your mouth meets his, it’s like something inside him snaps. He goes still, his breath catching, and for a second, you think he might run for the hills.

But instead, he kisses you back, a little clumsy, his lips pressing against yours like he’s not sure he’s doing it right. But you don’t pull away, don’t dare laugh, and slowly, he finds himself leaning into you, his hand rising to rest lightly on your leg, the touch electrifying your core. You make a soft noise against his lips, and it sends a shiver down his spine, his fingers tightening a bit where they’re touching you.

When he finally pulls back, his mind’s spinning, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what just happened. Your eyes meet his, and there’s this soft look on your face, like you’re amused and happy all at once.

“I… uh…” He stammers, his voice rough, and he feels his face burning.

“You maybe wanna mess around?” you ask, breathless, the words slipping out before you have time to second-guess yourself. There’s a growing need deep in your belly that you can’t ignore, a heat that’s been building ever since you noticed the way his eyes kept flicking to you, his gaze soft yet uncertain.

Daryl’s cuteness catches you off guard every time you look at him—especially now, with the moonlight casting shadows across his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw, the softness in his eyes, the way he almost looks like he doesn’t know he’s handsome. 

His eyes go wide, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he's not sure he heard you right. He is absolutely sure you can hear his heart pounding against his ribs, the blood pumping harder in his veins as his mind short circuits. His mouth opens, then shuts again, and he looks away, eyes on the ground as his brows furrow. He pulls the cigarette to his lips again, smoke sucking in between his teeth before he exhales sharply. He quickly looks back up to you, your eager, warm face still waiting for his response. 

"Uh..." He clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning red. "You... you serious?"

You can't help but smile, the shyness in his voice only making him more endearing. "Only if you want to," you murmur, letting your fingers trail over his kneecap, feeling the way he tenses under your touch. "Could be fun. Don't have to overthink it."

Your body was practically begging him to jump your bones, but he doesn’t seem to realize that. Didn’t seem to know the signs of clear hunger and want and need. Your fingers brushing his leg itched to feel more, but you kept yourself still–careful with him. 

Daryl swallows and lets out a shaky breath, his hand trembling slightly as it pushes his cigarette into the earth, snuffing it out and unsure of what to do next. His eyes dart up to yours, and there's a vulnerability there as he nods, unable to form the words.

He brings his one shaking hand up to cup your jaw, the rough pads of his hands sparking at the feeling of how soft your skin is. You smile again, leaning into his touch, gently closing the space between you while still letting him decide if he wants to continue on.

He does. God, he does. But as he looks at you, there's a flicker of hesitation as he feels the supple skin of your face under his touch, and he's afraid of what you might think if you knew the truth. That he's never had anyone like this before, never been this close, never had anyone look at him with such open want. The only thing he knows about sex is what he's seen in crude memories from Merle's old tapes, scenes filled with empty noises and rough images that look nothing like this.

Nothing like the way you're watching him, with warmth and softness, not a hint of demand.

He brushes his lips against yours, tentative, as if testing his limits. He's nervous, so unsure, but you lean in a little more, feeling his hand tremble as he holds you close, his fingers curling gently around the curve of your jaw. When you let your tongue push out to graze his top lip, he goes utterly still, a shuddering breath escaping him as his restraint crumbles. He deepens the kiss with a sudden hunger, his grip steadying, his hand anchoring you in place, and you’re not sure if it’s to keep you from pulling away or to keep him from running for the hills.

You feel his heart pounding under your hands as you bring them up to rest against his chest, the beat wild and frantic. You fist your hands into the thin fabric, trying in vain to pull him closer, even if you want to let him set the pace. His movements are unpracticed, but there's an intensity in the way he touches you, like he's pouring everything he doesn't know into this moment. You can't help but smile against his lips, his eager, clumsy attempts endearing in a way that only makes you want him more.

His hands shift, and you feel his fingers press against your waist, steadying himself as he moves closer. He's beautiful like this, his strong arms flexing with the movement, shadows tracing along his muscles under the moonlight, and the warmth of his touch sends a surge of heat pooling low in your belly.

The kiss grows more heated, messy, with tongues and teeth clashing as he grows bolder. It’s a little clumsy, but you don’t care. There’s something intoxicating about the way he’s so eager, so intent on exploring your mouth, every hesitant touch of his tongue making you melt further into him. A soft moan slips from your throat when his tongue slides against yours, the sound spilling out before you can stop it.

The noise seems to snag something in him. His breath hitches sharply, and he pulls back, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His forehead rests against yours, warmth radiating between you, and his breaths are hot against your lips, still so close you can feel the faint tremble in him.

When he finally looks at you, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, the sight of him sends a shiver through you. His pupils are blown wide, dark and searching, his mouth slick with shared wetness, lips parted as if he’s about to say something but can’t find the words.

But it’s you who nearly undoes him. Your flushed cheeks, your lips wet and swollen, the half-lidded haze in your eyes—he almost busts right then and there, his previous semi now throbbing from your lips connecting with his. The realization hits him like a lightning strike: he made you look like this. He made you moan. And the thought that you’re enjoying this, maybe enjoying him just as much as he’s enjoying you, leaves his head spinning even more.

Your lips curve into a lazy, teasing smile as your hand finds the nape of his neck, fingers tugging gently at the short strands of his hair. “Let’s move to your tent, yeah?” you murmur, your voice soft but full of intention.

Daryl nods enthusiastically, and without hesitation, he jumps to his feet, his eagerness on full display. For a brief moment, you’re level with his lap, and your gaze flickers to the growing bulge beneath the zipper of his jeans. The sight makes your breath hitch, heat pooling low between your legs as you glance up at him, catching his gaze. He sees where your eyes went, and for the first time tonight, something unbidden sparks in his expression—an almost bold glint as he reaches down, taking your hand and pulling you up with surprising firmness.

You’re silently grateful for the distance Daryl and Merle always kept from the others, their tents off to the side, a little more secluded. You’d still need to be quiet, but at least there’d be no direct neighbors overhearing the sounds you were sure to make.

Inside his tent, the air feels warmer, heavier with anticipation. Daryl sits down quickly, his legs splayed in front of him, uncertainty flashing across his features. He looks at you like he’s bracing himself, his hands fidgeting at his sides, unsure of what comes next. The hesitation in his gaze makes you think this might…all be new to him. You can see the way his throat works as he swallows hard, the thought of what’s about to happen clearly overwhelming him.

You don’t let him overthink it. Your heart pounds as you climb into his lap, straddling him. The heat of his body, the hard line of him pressing against your core through his jeans—it all sends a jolt of need straight through you. Your hands fly to his shoulders for balance, and he groans softly at the friction, his fingers automatically finding your waist, gripping you tightly as if to keep you from pulling away.

The first slow roll of your hips makes his breath stutter, and when you rock against him again, the friction has you both gasping. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. His tongue is eager, pushing into your mouth like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, the feel of you, and you let him, your hands threading into his hair. The pull of your fingers against his scalp makes him groan, the sound muffled against your lips as his hands tighten on your waist.

When you pull back, panting, you pause the sway of your hips just long enough to reach for the hem of your shirt. Daryl watches, wide-eyed, as you pull the fabric over your head and drop it to the side. His chest heaves as he stares at you, his gaze flicking between your face and your bare skin. Even though your bra is still on, it’s enough to make his brain stop working.

He doesn’t wait. His lips are on you immediately, pressing against the valley between your breasts, the space his hands haven’t dared to touch yet. His mouth is warm, tentative but eager, as he kisses along the curve of your ribs, moving wherever the fabric of your bra doesn’t block him. When his lips find the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder, you grind down against him, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

“Daryl,” you whimper, your voice barely above a breath. His lips pause, hovering against your skin as he murmurs against you.

“Yeah?” His voice is a rasp, raw and hoarse, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Please take off your clothes,” you whisper, your words trembling. You pull back slightly, giving him space, and he nods fervently, his hands fumbling to strip himself. His shirt comes off first, revealing the toned, scarred planes of his chest, and then he pushes his jeans down just far enough to free his cock, his hand fisting around himself in relief.

Your eyes drop instinctively, and when you see him, your breath catches. He’s big—almost too much—and you can’t help the way your mouth falls open, the sight making heat bloom through your body. When you finally meet his gaze again, his eyes are locked on you, dark with unspoken hunger. He doesn’t look at your face, though. His attention is fixed lower, on your chest, where your hands are already reaching behind you to unhook your bra.

“C’mere,” you beckon, laying back as you pull the rest of your clothes off. He uses one hand to push your legs apart, to settle himself between your thighs, but as he brings your legs apart, the glistening of your pussy stops him in his tracks. He’s overwhelmed with the primal instinct to bury himself in you one way or another, and he falls in a lying position between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs to bring your core to his mouth, his hot breath on your clenching lips. You lean up, propping yourself on your elbows as you watch him. You thought he was beautiful before but this…this view was breathtaking.

His eyes find yours, and he can’t even stop the groan that escapes him when his tongue attaches to your pussy. You throw your head back, a sigh slipping from you as he tries a lot of different menuevers, flattening his tongue and dragging it up and down, flicking it against the hole that he so badly wants to feel inside, but when he simply purses his lips and sucks on the engorged nub at the top of your folds, that’s when you fall from your elbows, and your loudest moan rocking through you. 

You can tell he’s more inexperienced than you expected, but it doesn’t matter to you, because once he got the hint, he went straight to exactly what you needed and craved. His lips were so surprisingly soft against you, his facial hair tickling the insides of your thighs as you clenched your legs around him. You rocked your hips into him, but you needed more. So much more.

You look back down at him then, your chest heaving as you bring your hand up to show him. "Please," you breathe, voice trembling with need. "Finger me–just like this." You curl a finger, then two, demonstrating the movement with a slow, deliberate ‘come-hither’ motion.

His blown-out blue eyes are locked on your hand, his breath catching before he brings his own between your legs. His fingers slip inside so easily, the hot wetness of your walls making him groan low in his throat. His cock twitches against the rough fabric of the tent underneath, but he doesn't touch himself—he's too focused on the way you react to him. When he adds another finger, curling them just as you showed him, your back arches violently, a ragged moan tearing from your throat. Your hand flies to his scalp, fingers digging into his hair, pulling as your hips buck against his mouth.

Daryl's groans grow louder, vibrating against you as his teeth graze your clit, sending shockwaves through your body. He doesn't hold back now-there's something primal in the way he devours you, the sounds he's making raw and desperate. His mouth works you relentlessly, tongue lapping and slurping at your slick heat, each growl reverberating through your core. He's losing himself in you, completely unguarded, no longer caring about keeping quiet or holding back.

The pressure building in your belly snaps all at once, and your vision floods with stars as the orgasm crashes through you. Your body locks into an arch, trembling as your jaw falls slack, a wordless cry spilling out of you. He doesn't stop, doesn't relent, even as you twitch and convulse beneath him. His mouth and fingers work you through your high, dragging every last wave of pleasure out of you until you're trembling from the overstimulation.

"O–okay, okay, okay," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you try to push him away, "you gotta stop, s’too much."

He slows his tongue, dragging his fingers out gently to settle your trembling limbs and presses soft kisses against your sensitive cunt before shifting up, laying himself over you. His arms cage you in on either side of your head, his face hovering close as his lips curve into a lazy smile. His arms tremble slightly, the strain of his own need barely contained, but he doesn't rush you. He just looks at you, drinking in the sight of what he's done to you-your flushed skin, mussed hair, and glassy, blown-out eyes. He searches your face, wondering if this was even real or if it was just a very, very vivid wet dream, and tomorrow he’d wake up to a mess in his pants.

But you lift your head just enough to capture his lips in a slow, heated kiss. He leans on one forearm beside your head, his other hand moving down to his cock, pumping it slowly, dragging the head of it through the slickness he created between your legs. The sensation pulls a soft whimper from you, your sensitive body twitching at the contact. His head falls into the crook of your neck, and you hear his breath stutter, thick and ragged, as he rubs himself against savoring the feeling. Before he follows that animal in him that needs to push into you, he picks his head up, eyes finding yours once again.

“Are—“ his voice breaks, thick with arousal but as he looks down at you, he wants to be sure. Needs to be, “are ya sure ya wanna—?”

“Daryl, if you don’t fuck me right now I might lose my goddamn mind,” you groan, your hands pulling at him in earnest.

A dark chuckle escapes him as he licks his lips and he guides himself into you, taking a moment to find your hole with his inexperienced aim. Your fingers trace over the valleys of his arms, hooking behind his head as you become impatient.

“Dare…” you whimper softly, rolling your hips in frustration as he keeps dragging the head of his cock along your folds.

Daryl’s brow furrows in concentration, his lips pressing into a tight line. You’re just about to reach down to help him when he finally catches the right angle. His breath hitches, his movements clumsy but determined as he pushes forward, the tip of his cock slipping into you.

His jaw goes slack almost instantly, a deep, shaky groan spilling from his throat. Nothing, absolutely fucking nothing he’d ever imagined—not his hand, not spit, not even the filthy images burned into his mind from Merle’s videos—could compare to this. The heat of you, the way your walls grip him, hot and wet and so perfect—it’s almost too much. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and he shudders against you as your back arches to meet him, adjusting to his size. He stays still, whether to let you adjust or to keep from losing himself, you’re not sure, but you’re grateful for the pause as your body stretches to accommodate him.

When you can’t wait any longer, you shift beneath him, rolling your hips slightly. The subtle movement makes him gasp sharply, his fingers tightening on your waist. His forehead presses harder against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he tries to keep control. He pulls back slowly, dragging his cock out of you inch by inch before pushing forward again, his thrusts tentative and uneven.

His groans are low and guttural, spilling out against your neck as he sets a slow, deliberate pace. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and as you grip his shoulders tighter, he seems to take it as encouragement, his rhythm growing a little more confident with every roll of his hips. The way your body responds to him, the way you clutch at him like you don’t want him to stop—it’s overwhelming, almost too much for him to process. Your breath in his ear is hot and heavy, urging him to give you more, to go harder, faster, your begging almost throwing him off so much he nearly cums at the sound of your voice in his ear.

“Daryl, please–” you begin again, but his hand clamps over your mouth.

“Shut. Up.” he growls, squeezing his brows together, jaw tightening. The tension in his voice is raw, desperate. He’s holding on by a thread, trying to make this last, but your pleas are unraveling him too fast. In any other circumstance, you might’ve hit a man for talking to you like that. But the way Daryl is rutting into you, his movements so desperate and hungry, it only causes you to gush around him more. And it seems like he felt it, too.

“Yeah?” he breathes, “You like when I talk to you like that, you dirty whore?” he moans, guttural and breathy. You whimper against him, and he’s surprised the dirty talk even worked, only hearing it in some video he saw once. His mouth finds your neck, his teeth nipping and his lips pressing bruising kisses down your shoulder. One hand clamps tighter on your waist, his grip sure to leave marks, while his other remains firm over your mouth, stifling the moans spilling from you.

His thrusts turn harder, deeper, his hips driving into you with a roughness that has you gasping against his hand. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s biting and sucking on your skin, marking you in a way that will surely leave hickeys. You lift your hips with every push into you, his cock now overwhelmingly bottoming out into you every thrust, skin slapping and animalistic groans coming from both of you. 

When your hand drifts down between your bodies, he sits back on his heels, gripping your hips and pulling you with him to watch. His thrusts slow for a moment as his wide, awestruck eyes follow the trail of your fingers pinching your nipples, then slipping lower to rub your clit.

His jaw drops, his breath coming in sharp pants as he watches you. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and shaky, his pace faltering. The sight of you touching yourself while he’s inside you—while your body stretches to take him—is almost too much for him to handle. He’s never seen anything so fucking perfect, the way his cock slides in and out of you, your juices coating him as you continue to pleasure yourself. To pleasure yourself to the act of him fucking you. Him.

You pick up the pace of your fingers, circling your clit faster as his thrusts grow erratic, his control slipping. He shakes his head slightly, pulling your hand away and replacing it with his own. His rough fingers rub your clit in messy circles, and the look on his face—sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes dark and glassy with need—is enough to send you over the edge, writhing and arching and mewling in ecstasy. The way your walls tighten and flutter around him pulls a strangled sound from his throat. He stutters out one final thrust before following you, a high-pitched moan spilling from his lips as he collapses onto you. He buries his face in your neck again, his body shaking as he empties himself inside you, riding out the waves of his climax with unsteady thrusts. 

Your bodies stick together, sweat mingling as you both fight to catch your breath. He doesn’t move, his weight a comforting pressure as his lips brush lazily against your shoulder. You tilt your head, planting soft kisses along his jaw until you find his lips, kissing him gently, lazily.

“That was…” you breathe, your voice still uneven, “amazing.”

His half-hooded eyes meet yours, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “Hopefully not the first and last?”

“Definitely not,” he murmurs, his voice low but sure, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

[incognit0slut]

hii, i love you’re writing and i have a song request idea. the song too sweet by hozier would be so cute it could be angst to smut and it could happen late morning or late at night since the lyrics. idk if it makes sense i just thought it’d be cute 😭. again i love your work sm okay, ty, bye 🫶🏾💖🫶🏾💖🫶🏾

Spencer thinks you’re too sweet for a damaged man like him.

Warnings: (18+) Professor Reid x Student Fem Reader. Age gap (he’s in his 40s or post-prison era, Reader is in her 20s). Angst and smut. 2.8k words A/n: anon I took your request but I changed it a little to how I interpret this song… which means a lot of ANGST💔 I hope you don’t mind

He knew you were here. He always knew. The usual chaotic sprawl of books scattered throughout his apartment seemed to be in order, and there was a comforting scent lingering in the air that unmistakably belonged to you.

Although Spencer could never really put his finger on your scent. Sometimes you exuded a sweet fragrance, like the delicate petals of a flower, while at other times, a crisp, fresh aroma lingered around you, reminiscent of a morning breeze, or perhaps the soft scent of rain. 

But it didn't matter whether you smelled like a garden in full bloom or the crisp air after a rainstorm, the mere proximity to you brought him the peace he was all too familiar with, and that calmness enveloped him as he made his way toward his bedroom.

You looked like an angel. Sweet, calm, serene. His eyes drifted towards your sleeping form, and he couldn't help but wonder how you could sleep so well after the conversation you both shared this morning. The weight of your mutual decision to end things for good hung heavy in the air, yet here you lay, seemingly unaffected.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, each rhythmic pattern of your breathing seemed to draw him closer. One step, then another, until he found himself standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, vulnerable in your sleep. And then, as if pulled by an unseen force, he sank into the space beside you.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, and so did his heart. Spencer knew this wasn't the wisest thing to do. He was supposed to be the responsible one, after all, he was older than you. With age came experience, or so he believed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be the voice of reason.

But as he lay beside you, he couldn't help but question his judgment. Was it truly wisdom that guided him, or was it simply the fear of facing the unknown? Age and maturity seemed like a flimsy construct now, overshadowed by the raw intensity of his emotions. With a heavy sigh, he placed a hand on your waist.

One touch, he told himself, one touch was all he would allow himself.

You felt the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, grounding you in the present moment. Spencer watched intently, well aware he should have pulled back, yet, despite his better judgment, he found himself unable to let go, his grip on you tightening almost instinctively.

His gaze traced your face in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. Despite the early hour, your features seemed to radiate with a warmth that defied the darkness of the dawn. The lines of worry on your brow softened, your lips curved into a gentle smile, and for a fleeting moment, you appeared to embody the very essence of sunshine itself.

It was a peculiar sight, Spencer thought, considering how the world beyond the window remained shrouded in darkness.

"You're home," you muttered as if the word home was a concept you both shared. Perhaps it had once been true, or perhaps it was a dream that had never quite materialized. He felt a pang in his chest, a bittersweet reminder of what once was, or what could have been.

"You're not supposed to be here," he mumbled softly.

"I was going to give you back your keys, but you weren't here," you confessed. "And I wanted to wait for you."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "So you decided to wait on my bed?"

"It seemed like the most comfortable spot."

"You've always liked my bed."

You shook your head. "It's not the bed, per se. It's the feeling of being close to you..." Your gaze softened as you met his eyes. "Even when you're not here."

Time seemed to stand still as he met your gaze, a rush of emotions swirling beneath the surface. "I'm not here most of the time," he said after a pause.

"I know."

"That's not fair to you."

A heavy silence fell into place.

"I know," you replied quietly.

"And the next time we do see each other," he continued, his tone tinged with resignation, "Is when I'm standing in front of class with you sitting between the seats."

"Spencer, I know," you pressed, your voice barely concealing the ache in your heart. "We went through this conversation this morning."

"Then why are you still here?"

You held his gaze, your eyes reflecting countless emotions—sadness, longing, and perhaps a hint of defiance. "Because," you began softly, "I still can't bring myself to leave."

His heart clenched at your words, the weight of them settling heavily upon him. He had expected defiance, anger, perhaps even resentment, but your quiet admission caught him off guard.

"Why?" he asked.

You looked away. "You know why."

He knew the reasons, of course, he knew them all too well. But hearing them spoken aloud, seeing the pain reflected in your eyes, brought the harsh reality of the situation. He reached out, gently grasping your chin and guiding your gaze back to meet his.

"This is for the best," he replied quietly, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. He knew the words sounded hollow, even to his own ears, but he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth—that perhaps, deep down, he was trying to protect himself as much as he was trying to protect you.

"For me or for you?"

He hesitated, the lump in his throat growing heavier with each passing moment.

"For both of us," he admitted softly.

It was the truth, undeniable and painful. He couldn't deny the impact of your relationship if it continued down its current path. Not only was he much older than you, but he was also supposed to be your mentor, your teacher, your professor.

His role was meant to guide you. He was supposed to impart knowledge, not to engage in illicit affairs behind closed doors. He had allowed himself to become too invested in you, to give you more attention than was appropriate, more than was fair to his other students.

But it wasn't just about him anymore—it was about you. He couldn't bear the thought of tainting your pure, sweet soul with the darkness that came with him. He had done things he wasn't proud of, and made choices that he wished he could undo, and now, as he looked at you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of shame.

You deserved better than to be with someone who carried the weight of his past like a heavy burden.

"So this it?" You asked.

All he could do was nod. A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. "Fine. Just..." You paused, taking a shaky breath to steady yourself. "I'll leave as soon as you tell me the truth."

He felt a knot tighten in his chest as he waited for you to continue.

"Tell me you don't love me and I'll leave."

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, the pain evident in his eyes as he struggled to find the right response. He knew that he had to be honest with you, no matter how difficult it might be.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, the words caught in his throat. How could he deny the truth when every fiber of his being longed for you? How could he let you go when you were the one thing he couldn't bear to lose?

"I..." he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the courage to speak the words you so desperately needed to hear. But no matter how hard he tried, the words refused to come.

"Say it," you urged. "Say you don't love me and I'll leave you for good."

Taking a deep breath, he met your gaze and braced himself for the pain his words would inflict on you.

"I don't love you," he whispered, the words feeling like a betrayal even as they left his lips. It was a lie, and he knew it. And yet, he couldn't find the courage to admit his feelings for you.

The air around you seemed to thicken with tension. He had braced himself for the pain his lie would bring, but nothing could prepare him for the look of hurt and disbelief that crossed your face at his words. You were the one who asked for this, yet hearing him admit to it so easily shattered your heart into pieces.

"You're... you're lying."

Spencer felt a pang of guilt shoot through him at the sight of your pain. He knew that he would regret what he was about to do, but he couldn't stand the thought of you walking away without knowing the truth, without knowing how much he truly cared for you.

So he closed the distance between you, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck. And then, without hesitation, he leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his kiss.

But as quickly as it had begun, it came to an end, leaving you breathless and uncertain. You pulled back and searched his eyes for answers. "You're lying," you repeated.

He sighed heavily, his forehead resting against yours. "I-I don't love you."

Your chest tightened again. How could he say that when his touch was so tender, when his gaze held so much depth? Frustration and hurt boiled over as your nails dug into his skin, gripping his wrist firmly as you held his face close to yours.

"Stop lying to me," you pleaded almost desperately. "Stop fucking lying to yourself."

He closed his eyes. He knew that he couldn't keep lying to you, and yet, the words refused to leave his lips, trapped by the fear of what might happen if he dared to speak them aloud.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart as he pulled you closer, not knowing what else to do to ease the pain away.

So he kissed you again.

He kissed you as if he was apologizing, each gentle press of his lips against yours a silent plea for forgiveness. He kissed you as if he needed to convey his feelings that he couldn't express with words, his touch speaking volumes where his voice fell short.

He kissed you as if you were everything to him, as if the taste of you was sweeter than any other, as if he couldn't bear the thought of a life without you in it. He kissed you desperately and unapologetically, it was sweet yet painful, tender yet desperate, as if every moment shared between you was both a blessing and a curse.

You could taste the bitterness of goodbye on his lips, yet you couldn't bring yourself to let go, not when his touch still felt like home. So you pushed your tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of him even as you knew it would only make saying goodbye that much harder.

Your breathing became heavy as you felt his hand glide down from your cheek to your neck. He then pulled away, his lips still tingling from the taste of you as he licked them unconsciously. His gaze followed the movement of his hand as it settled on your breast.

You could feel the tension between you crackling in the air, the desire that pulsed between you almost tangible, as he brushed your nipple over your shirt. A gasp escaped your lips as he continued to tease you, each touch sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

You knew that this wasn't the wisest thing to do. You were both playing with fire and giving in to the temptation could only lead to more heartache. But you couldn't help yourself, not when your body was coming alive with the familiarity of his touch, not when you knew that this might be the last time you could feel him as close.

So when his hand slipped further down, tracing a path over your stomach, past your legs, you let him. The anticipation built within you as his touch hiked up your skirt, your breath catching in your throat. And when the rough pad of his fingers ghosted over the material of your panties, you found yourself instinctively spreading your legs apart, inviting him closer.

As the first electric surge rushes through you, the smallest of breaths escapes your lips, signaling the release of the tension you had been holding in your lungs. Your hands found purchase against his shoulders, nails digging into his t-shirt tightly as you felt him pressing onto your folds.

You both stared at each other, a silent exchange of emotions passing between you. There were so many emotions in his—sadness, frustration, and a burning desire that mirrored your own. And yet, despite the turmoil that raged within him, you found yourself unable to look away, drawn in by the intensity of his gaze.

As his hand worked its magic between your thighs, you felt yourself growing wetter by the minute, desire pooling low in your belly. And then, with a sense of purpose, he pulled his hand away, his fingers deftly finding the band of your panties as he coaxed the thin material down your legs. 

How did he manage to bring himself into this situation again? It was a familiar pattern, one that he had promised himself he would break, and yet, here he was, like a moth to a flame, irresistibly drawn to you.

Or perhaps it was more like you were a precious flower, delicate and beautiful, and he was drawn to you like a bee to nectar, unable to resist the sweet temptation that you offered.

Whatever the reason, he knew that he couldn't stay away from you. With trembling hands, he buried his fingers between your thighs once more, finally touching your bare, slick skin. The slickness of your arousal coated his fingers as he explored every inch of your delicate folds, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

And then, unable to resist any longer, he pressed a single finger inside your entrance, the sensation causing you to gasp in pleasure. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of your tightness enveloping him, before picking up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate with each passing moment.

"Please," you muttered, gulping and concentrating on the feeling of him slowly pumping his single digit in and out of your tightening, dripping walls. 

But what were you begging for? For him not to stop? Or for him not to let you go? Maybe both, and for now, the only thing he could do was give you the pleasure you so desperately craved.

He could feel the tension building within you, the way your body arched and trembled. And as he continued to pleasure you, he made a silent vow to himself—to give you everything he could at this moment, to make you feel alive and wanted, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

So he continued to move his finger inside you, and as he felt you drawing closer to the edge, he knew that he couldn't stop now. His thumb found your clit, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as he applied gentle pressure. Then with a sense of urgency, he plunged another finger deep inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way possible.

Your grip on his shirt tightened, your nails digging into the fabric as you clung to him desperately. "Pl-Please," you begged, heavy eyes searching for his own. "Please don't leave me."

His heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in your voice, the depth of emotion written plainly across your face. He couldn't bear to look at you any further, so he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing tender kisses against your skin as his fingers continued their fast-paced rhythm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry."

His words were barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths, but you heard him clearly, and a loud moan ripped out of you. This was the cruelest form of rejection; to find pleasure in his touch only to be denied the warmth of his affection. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him for playing with your emotions, for making you believe there was something more. But as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your senses, driving you ever closer to the edge of ecstasy, you found yourself unable to resist.

So you surrendered to him completely, because all that mattered was here and now—the ache between your legs, his lips worshiping your body, and the undeniable connection that bound you together, even as the world threatened to tear you apart.

[tojivu]

cw. f!reader, shitpost before i go back to my hole

it's 2 in the morning and you're rubbing your eyes — little worms of light dance around your vision and they blur soon later.

toji's doing perfectly fine. sleeping like a tank, as always: loud snores leave his lips and you want nothing but to tape his mouth shut; you know you're just envious.

you sit criss-crossed on the bed, facing the white wall decorated with pictures of you and toji — megumi and tsumiki make an appearance every once in awhile, scattered in protected glass frames that toji set up shortly after moving in.

you can only sigh, fingers ruffling through your unkempt hair as your husband has the most heavenly sleep of his life. the little ones must be having a lot of fun, too, sharing their new bunk bed with eachother — it took you a long while to read out the instructions to toji, who was 'more of a visual learner than instructional'.

nevermind that the manual included pictures and drawings, you got it done anyway — albeit slowly.

toji's calloused hand make their way to your pelvis. he wraps it around you, pulling you into him almost effortlessly. you can still see the way the muscles flex and pull in the dark, sculpted to perfection; the moonlight seeping in through the wide glass panels bless his figure.

you do nothing but let it happen.

he groans when you don't immediately snuggle him and you roll your eyes at the clinginess. you know what's coming.

"what's wrong, mama?" though his t is not entirely pronounced, falling silent under his tired voice — it sounds more like wus wrong mama — you know why he's asking.

the name makes you shiver. his voice sends low vibrations in the form of waves up your spinal cord, and they end at your fingertips — sending little shocks of electricity.

you can only mutter "nothing" and he sucks his teeth, almost mockingly, before you feel his warm palm smooth your bare back. it's a silent welcome to his embrace, and you follow it like a command.

"know it's never nothing with you," toji's voice is crisp in your right ear, while his hands continue to draw invisible circles on your back. you feel sleepier by the second.

"if y'don't wanna tell me right now, i'll be here in the morning," he reassures. "my pretty girl."

the pet name tugs at your cheeks, forcing them to smile ever so softly at your husband. no longer that young woman he met years ago, yet he manages to make you feel that way all the time. young and freshly done with the first date, running to tell your friends he called you beautiful.

"yeah. . . i will."

"mmm, you better," he chuckles lowly, clearly tired out of his mind. "so no rush, yeah?"

"i know, toji."

[lazy4honey]

Unseelie Fae

Should be sleeping, looked at fae fucker, remembered an old idea I never got to use, just started writing, tried to do something short, obviously didn’t succeed…

Contains: second person perspective, gender neutral, fae, long, slow, teasing, dub-con, tentacles, fingering, anal, big 🍆, lots of 💦, slight belly bulge, NSFW towards the end

Note: both men and women have a glans and erectile tissue 👍

There are two courts of faeries, opposed to each other like day and night. One is known as the Seelie Court, mischievous but well meaning, while the other is the Unseelie Court, full of cunning pranks and tricks.

But regardless of their differences, they all love to play tricks on humans.

As such, you go to bed one night and fall asleep unusually quickly and dream.

You stand in a blooming meadow. The cerulean sky above you is dotted with white cotton clouds and the sun beams down onto the earth in a blinding manner, a mixture of the flowers’ fragrance and the slightly burnt smell of ozone typical for hot summer days filling your nose as the hot breeze brushes over your skin.

You look around and find a lone tree growing in the meadow. It looks old, knotted branches adorned by emerald leaves reaching towards the sky almost like a withered hand. There is a strange aura to this tree, but you still walk over to stand in its cool shade.

Then something magical happens.

A pale glimmer lights up on one of the lower branches and drops, leaving a glittering string as fine as spider silk hanging straight down. You watch with curiosity and awe as the string lights up and splits open into a gateway.

The next moment, before you can see what lies beyond, a figure steps through the gateway.

As soon as you lay your eyes on them, they have stolen your breath away.

They are tall and thin, clad in flowing black robes that seem to meld into the shadows, as if made from them. Their long, straight black hair blends in with the robe, and it forms a stark contrast with their morbidly pale skin. With elegant brows, eyes resembling black pearls, and light pink lips, there is an unsettling beauty to them that transcends all perceptions of gender you had before.

They look at you and you see what you believe to be a smile flash through their mesmerizing eyes.

Entranced, you watch them lift their arm and reach out to you. Their boney hand is just as pale as their face, and their black fingernails are long and pointed. For some reason, you think it resembles the tree.

With a turn of their wrist, a round, enticingly red apple appears in their hand. Just by looking at its rich color, you can already feel its mouthwatering taste in your mouth.

You don’t hesitate to grab the apple and take a bite out of it. It is crisp and juicy, just like you imagined, and the red of the peel bleeds into the white fruit flesh like blood staining snow.

The beautiful person in black smiles as they watch you eat their apple, and you happily smile back at them.

After eating the apple, they take your hand, their cold touch making you feel a strange anticipation as they lead you through the gateway. Time and space creak as they are twisted, and the next moment you stand on the meadow by night, the sleeping flower buds doused in silvern moonlight as the nearby hill breaks open and reveals the fae folk dancing to their bewitching music in a hall illuminated by firefly-like dots of light.

Enthralled, you step forward. You enter the hill and find yourself in the hall contained within you had just seen, surrounded by countless beings more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

You wander around the hall, dancing with a man with glittering dragonfly wings fly wings one moment and a woman with colorful butterfly wings the next. Then you are pushed onward and pass by the buffet, grabbing some candy-like nuts and berries that crunch satisfyingly between your teeth before arriving at the band’s little stage. After energetically beating the drum for the goat-horned man playing the pan flute for a few songs, you are tired and let yourself be carried along by the stream of fae, finally coming to a black throne.

Seated on that throne is the beautiful being that gave you their apple, and their eyes seem to twinkle as they look at you and once again reach out their hand.

It is empty, waiting for you to take it.

You do.

They gently pull and you fall onto their lap without any resistance, adoringly gazing up at them as you lean against their chest. Your eyes meet and sparks fly, eliciting excited cheers from the crowd of fae folk.

The beautiful being brushes a hand through your hair, admiring your blushing face. Then they lean down and kiss your forehead, your eyes, your nose, your cheeks and jaw, and finally coming to your lips. They pause and look you deep in the eyes, seeking your consent before ever so gently kissing you.

Their lips are cold, just like their hands, but not unpleasantly so. There is the faint fragrance of apples.

They hold your face and gradually deepen the kiss, making you close your eyes in enjoyment and miss the flash of deep red in their eyes. Your lips opens on their own and allow their tongue to intrude on your mouth. When their cold tongue grazes yours, you flinch back in surprise only to quickly engage with them. The feeling of their slippery tongue against yours is divine.

You clutch at their robes and rub your thighs against each other as heat pools in your abdomen and makes you long for something more.

There seems to be a distant sigh, followed by a rustle, and then darkness envelops you. The boos of the crowd come from far away, but the coolness of that beautiful being is still closely attached to you, their arms wrapping around you to hold your waist.

You open your eyes and only see a vague outline of them, but you don’t mind. Raising your arms to cling to their neck, you engage them in another long, deep kiss, aiming to warm their coldness with your overflowing warmth.

They chuckle and press you tightly against themselves, kiss turning a little shallower as they rub your back, down your spine and to your ass, making you relax in comfort.

Then you feel something on your ankle. It is just as cold as the beautiful being’s hands, yet there is a strange slickness to it. You wiggle your foot. When the sensation doesn’t go away, you try to retreat from the kiss to take a look, but they don’t give you that chance as they deepen the kiss again and sneak a cold hand beneath your shirt to caress your waist.

The strange sensation remains on your ankle, and as you forget about it, it starts moving again. It slides up your calf like a living rope, crawling beneath your pants and wrapping itself around your soft flesh. Then it strokes your knee.

Your legs tighten and you want to kick it away, but then another cold, slick thing wraps around your other foot, tickling your sole. You squirm and whine into the beautiful being’s mouth, hoping they will notice your plight and rescue you. But they just hold your waist more tightly, sliding a hand up to your warm chest as their head moves down to kiss your neck.

Free of any obstruction, you moan. The cold hands and lips on your warm skin make you feel so tingly, their every caress adding to the hotness in your abdomen. You can’t resist rubbing your crotch against their thigh as you get excited.

At this moment, the slick tentacle-like things move again. They wrap around your legs, gently squeezing your thighs, their coldness making you tremble, and unexpectedly cooperate with the beautiful being to lift you up and sit you down on their lap with your legs spread. Then another tentacle attaches itself to the small of your back and trails its thin tip up your spine and down again.

With your hands not restrained, you twist to grab the annoying thing. The beautiful being beneath you suddenly releases a low moan. Unconsciously you tighten your grip, and they hum, the three cold, slick tentacles pulsing faintly.

Finally, you truly realize that the beautiful being is a fae.

A fae with tentacles.

An unknown kind of excitement takes hold of you and makes your heart beat like a drum. You swallow a mouthful of saliva and tug at the tentacle, pulling it before you.

The beautiful fae watches you in the darkness they created. Their hand tightens on your chest as you kiss the tip of the tentacle, their breath heating up when you take it into your hot, wet mouth. You gently suck on the tentacle and feel it pulse as they gasp, then gently bite it before removing it from your mouth and kissing along its length.

Meanwhile, the tentacles wrapped around your legs tighten and loosen together with the fae’s hands on your torso. They nuzzle their face against your neck and the tentacles around your legs start moving again, caressing your inner thighs and crawling forward, one making contact with your crotch. The tentacle presses a little and feels you tense. Then it slowly grinds against you, the cold, slick sensation seeping through your underpants as it fondles your arousal.

The fae feels your strong heartbeat and kisses your neck, their hand massaging your chest and making you accidentally bit the tentacle you are still holding a little harder when they pinch your nipple. They moan and the tentacle by your mouth is replaced with their lips as they plunder your mouth. The tentacle dripping with saliva strokes your shoulder and down into your shirt to your chest, the thin cold tip wrapping around your other nipple to pull and rub.

You pant at the many ministrations, aroused and wanting for more after being teased like this.

As if sensing your impatience, the tentacles on your legs start moving again. They both wriggle into your underpants, one reaching your front while the other curls around your ass cheek. The one in the front snakes along your crotch and to your eagerly throbbing genitalia. It carefully feels around and slowly pulls back your skin to reveal your glans and wet slit, rubbing against it at an agonizingly slow pace.

As you are kissed and caressed by hands and tentacles, you rock your hips against the fae for a little more friction. You want more, you hope for a deeper connection, one that steals your breath and echoes endlessly through your body.

The tentacle on your ass moves. It dives into the gap between your buttocks and kisses your small hole, making your butt clench around it. Its thin tip circles around the delicate, puckered skin and prods your hole again, even sinking a little inside.

You whine against the fae’s lips and they stroke your cheek. Then they reach down to your crotch, feeling the wetness at their fingertips, and rub your glans and slit along with the tentacle. Their hand is so cold and soft it makes you feel your pulse in your gut.

After rubbing for a while, sometimes stronger, sometimes lighter, coating their fingertips in your slowly dripping sticky liquids, they reach further and join the tentacle at your backside in prodding at your asshole. Thanks to your wetness, they are able to slide in a little more than the tentacle. Their sharp fingernail hurts a little but their other touches feel so good, and before you know it they are already one digit deep inside you.

They bite your lip as they patiently sink their entire index finger into your hole, then kiss down your jaw, neck, and chest. At your heart side, they bite your nipple, cold breath instantly making it harden, then lick. You clench around their fingertips with a moan and some more liquid drips from your slit onto the rubbing tentacle, making its movements smoother.

The fae gives your nipple a suck and pull their finger put, once again fingering your slit. You feel a little relieved yet empty, but before the feeling can settle in they return their fingers to your tight hole, carefully pressing two fingers inside your tight anus.

You moan in pain and sink your hands into the fae’s hair, gripping it tightly.

They give your chest a little bite and another tentacle joins the three. It is a little slicker than the others and the tip drips with a cold slime that makes you shiver. This tentacle sprinkles its slime across your body, mixing it with some of your own sticky liquids at your slit, and then joins the fae’s fingers as they gently press inside you. You can feel this tentacle squirm in your rectum and it seems to be pumping its cold slime into you. It coats the fae’s fingers, resulting in a quiet squelching sound as they curl against your hot flesh.

The slime drips down their hand and your ass as they continue moving, wriggling every now and then and pumping in and out in alternating tempo.

Then they add a third finger.

You feel a little full.

The dripping tentacle continuously pumps its slime into you and the squelching sound becomes louder as the sticky substance accumulates in your rear. Gradually, the fingers and slime heat up and your asshole feels a little numb and pleasantly tingly. You take the three fingers very well, earning yourself more kisses and caresses from the fae.

That beautiful fae, fucking you with their long cold fingers and slimy tentacles, could there be anything more arousing?

When they suddenly pull out their fingers, you whine and tug at their hair.

The slime dripping out of your widened hole, pulled even wider open by the fae’s tight grip on your ass cheeks, flows down the tentacle still peaking inside you, slicking it up. Then it begins to move.

The tentacle is about as thick as the fae’s three fingers, but it reaches deeper inside you and lacks the dangerous fingernails. When it enters you a little deeper, you feel it squirm again as it pumps you with its sticky slime once more, making your hole flutter, and then it retreats.

Afterwards, the other tentacles that had been toying with your body also retreat.

You unhappily wriggle your hips and pout. That couldn’t have been it, right? They couldn’t just leave you hanging like that, right?

Of course they don’t.

Your shirt is gently peeled off by their fingers, one hand cold and one warm and slick with the tentacle’s slime and your liquids. Then they slip their hands into your waistband, tapping your hips and looking at you.

Although they don’t say anything, you understand the look in their pitch black eyes. You hold onto their shoulders and raise yourself up, letting them take off your pants and underwear.

They admiringly stroke your bare skin. Your legs and your arms, your chest aching from the fondling, your waist, hips and ass, and finally your crotch — their cool touch is everywhere.

Then they press you against their chest and squeeze your ass.

The next moment, a thick, slimy tentacle with a phallic tip pressed against your asshole. Your muscles tensed and the hole tightened against the unexpectedly cold thing. It poked a little, then slid forward to rub against your leaking slit, gently pressing and pulling for a while and making you moan before returning to your backside.

The fae captured your lips and in that second of distraction, the tentacle pushed inside your anus and stretched the folds out of the puckered hole with its girth. With the hot slime and the phallic tentacle covered in cold slick completely filling your rectum, you felt almost unbearably full, but it didn’t hurt. When the tentacle started moving and the friction started heating the slippery liquids, the wonderful tingling sensation came back full force and traveled from your rear to your front, making you drip onto the fae’s robes.

They let their hand slide back down to your dripping holes and lightly pressed and rubbed your glans before fingering your slit that had become sensitive from all that stimulation as the tentacle in your ass sped up its movements, thrusting deeper inside you and stretching you further than before each time.

You moaned into their mouth. In your quest for more pleasure you rocked your hips with their thrusts, pushing your soaking slit into their cool hand one moment to seek relieve for your swollen erectile tissue and shoving your ass backwards onto their phallic tentacle to feel it pound deep into you the next.

Your enthusiasm please the fae. It pleased them even more when your ass clenched around their phallic tentacle, and you could the thing pulse in your ass and speed up. You relaxed, and then abruptly clenched again around them, eliciting a melodious moan from them as the tentacle pulsed.

Constantly stimulating each other in this was, the two of you sped up. As your climax neared, your movements grew a little sloppy. Chasing that obscure feeling, you shoved the tentacle even deeper into your soft insides, and then the fae came with an ecstatic moan.

Their phallic tentacle didn’t stop pulsing as a searing hot liquid was shot into your guts. The feel of your gut being filled and even bulging from their cum made you moan loudly, and so you, too, reached your climax. Your ass clenched more tightly than ever around the tentacle and squeezed it as you came and trembled, making you clearly feel every pulse and every new shot of cum.

After an unknown amount of time, you came back to your senses. Leaning against the fae and hugging their thin waist, your ass still stuffed with their phallic tentacle and dripping with cum and slime, you felt your body still echoing with the euphoric release you just experienced.

The fae hugged you and pressed a tender kiss to your sweaty temple.

Surrounded by the faint scent of apples, you relaxed against them and sleepily closed your eyes. As you drifted off, you heard them, the vibrations of their cold, resonant voice clearly transmitted into your chest as they whispered.

“Finally.”

[sweetlittlefawntears]

☆ the woods

e. williams x fem! reader

cw: smut duh, not proofread, established relationship, hunter/hunted kink, blood play (kinda idk) mild weapon kink (knife), sex outside, degradation, intentional lowercase, fingering and strap on sex (r receiving), dom ellie and sub reader (IM SORRY OK I LIKE DOM ELLIE SUE ME)

au: okay ill post again bro i actually feel bad but im back from the dead I'm literally sobbing banging my head on the keyboard having to write this but I'm not dead ok guys.

you had hopped up from the comfy yet old sofa you and ellie were sitting on after a slight argument, saying you wanted to "take a walk." ellie protested, but you both knew the best thing after a disagreement like this was for one of you to get some fresh air. it was a crisp cool autumn night, the wind bustling along with the leaves of the trees down the path by you and ellies sweet little home. It was pleasant. The woods behind your house served as a beautiful painting, a work of art for you to look at.

as you walked past some of the trees, you ended up at a wooden fence, finally deciding to stop there to look out over the watery colors of the setting sun, when a slender hand came up behind you and gently touched the side of your shoulder.

the touch startled you, but you turned around quickly to see the familiar hardened face of your girlfriend, ellie williams. her eyes looked tired, but relieved to see you. "you're jumpy." she commented.

"sorry..." you trail off quietly, not wanting to fight anymore with her. "hey, hey. don't be like that." ellie said, grabbing your face almost forcefully. she looked at you with those piercing eyes, the ones that made you feel like she could see your entire past and future with just one glance. you immediately cave in, wanting her to just have you right there and then. it was hard to stay mad at her.

without missing a single moment, without even hesitating, you kissed her. soft and sloppy, exactly the way you knew she'd like, breathy sounds escaping into her mouth, the cold of the fall air and the sound of leaves rustling from the forest behind you had disappeared, and all you could hear was the sound of your own heart beating in your chest and the sound of ellies lips, now chapped from the cold pressed against yours.

you whimpered, suddenly needy and eager for her, but just as you started to want more, she pulled away, a dark look in her eyes. shit. "you think you can get off that easy?" she said, looking at you and grasping the front of the woven blue sweater she had given you. you stayed silent, knowing exactly what was coming, what she had planned for you. "you know, i don't think you deserve to move on from being such a little fucking brat earlier." she said, looking down at you.

and that's why, after all of the soft moments you had shared just a few minutes ago seemed to turn into years ago, you were running from her, into the cold woods, the light peering out from the canopy of the tree tops, the pale moonlight being the only thing you could see along with the crushing of leaves and small pebbles beneath your feet.

you knew you couldn't run from her forever. she enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, it was like a reward, you were her little mouse, so pure trying to run away from her, desperate to get away from whatever she wanted to do when she eventually got you. just as you thought you could not run another inch you stumbled, tripping over yourself onto the ground on all fours, your knees scraped through your jeans, bloody hands and all. what a sight for ellie to behold.

ellie came up behind you. you could feel her presence. "gotcha..." she whispered before grabbing you and pulling you up, a whimpering mess for her. it was pathetic and you knew it. the worst part? you liked it. you genuinely liked it. you mentally hit yourself in the head for getting off on being chased and caught by her, your own girlfriend. it was certainly a sick fantasy, but you loved it. you loved her having you like this.

you still squirmed, your back to her front, unable to fend for yourself at last, pitifully trying to get away, though you really didn't want to. "stop." ellie said, holding you closer to her. as you softly whimpered for her to release you, though you knew it was all for nothing.

"shut the fuck up." ellie said, grabbing her switchblade from her pocket, holding it up to where your jeans had torn earlier, slowly deepening the cut along the seams, whilst slowly dragging the blade ever so softly over your skin. you winced, the blade sharp across your smooth skin. it wasn't deep enough to truly even cause a scar, but the cut still stung as it was freshly opened up to the chill air surrounding you.

"you ready to give up?" ellie said, still holding you close to your body, your legs pushing away from her, but her grip didn't loosen. eventually, you half gave up and allowed her to slip her hand down your soft stomach into your jeans. truly, you wanted this, you didn't want to be bratty, but there was no way you'd let her get her way with you that easy. you were better than that.

but you weren't good enough to withstand the growing arousal pooling in your stomach, the way her slender fingers slid along your slit, the way she whispered in your ear; "s'fucking perverted bun, your cunt is fucking dripping." the pads of her fingers rubbing circles around your clit, harshly, almost needily, but you knew better than to think she truly meant this to be loving. no, she wanted you to be a ruined, drooling, sloppy mess when she was finished with you.

"so needy, looks like you're in heat or somethin'." she mocked you, and although you whimpered at her comment, your body was roaring its approval of her words. you wanted to tell her, to tell her she was right, that you were nothing other than her toy, that you needed her to touch you in any and every way possible, but your mind was growing fuzzier with each second.

ellie absolutely adored seeing you like this, lips puffy from biting them, watery doe eyes, face slightly sweating, and soft whimpers and pants coming from those soft delicate little lips of yours.

you whimpered under the delicate drawn out touches to your clit, the rubbing from her fingers making your body and brain go numb, all you could focus was on her.

“mmh, yeah. dont tell me you dont like it, your little cunt is absolutely soaked, bun.” ellie whispered. you shook your head as if to tell her to stop teasing, desperately trying now to get off on her touching you. “no? you dont like it?” she said, almost sneering. “dont fucking lie.”

ellie moved her hand out from underneath those cute lacey panties of yours, out from under your jeans, having you groaning at the feeling of being overly sensitive.

“thought i told you to shut up.” ellie said, and, too quick for you, immediately pushed you down onto the leave-strewn ground, your slightly scraped up hands making contact with the cold dirt of the woodland floor. ellie didn’t waste any time in pulling those jeans off of you.

she dragged her blade along your thigh, allowing the droplets of your blood to fall onto her knife. pulling down those small, soft white panties of yours, clad in nothing but the blue sweater and your ass up in the air, on all fours, like some bitch in heat. what a sight to behold.

cunt dripping slick down your thighs, ellies fingers pounding inside you, pulling your hair, and giving harsh slaps to your asscheck which made you whimper even more from the sweet stinging pain.

her fingers felt like heaven inside you, your poor little hole being fucked over and over again by her. and worse of it all, you really fucking enjoyed it. you felt so pathetic, and even worse when you came onto her fingers, drenching her hand and your thighs with your sticky milky white cum.

”s’all for me, huh?” ellie said as she fucked her fingers into you, helping you ride out your climax. “goddamn, you’re too fucking easy, y’know that?”

eventually, she helps cloth you again, and you walk back, clinging onto your girlfriend like she didnt just have you on all fours, getting off to being chased and caught by her like some stupid naive prey.

as you walked back to your house, entirely fucked out and holding onto ellie, she buried her face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, the night air filling with soft “i love yous”.

hi bro i cannot believe i wrote this in like maybe two hours lmfao i kinda am excited to start writing again but it scares me my stuff will freaking flop ANYWAYS hai i hope u enjoy .. :( theres no fics about ellie chasing u so i took it upon myself to make one !! have a good day / night n remember to drink water !! :3

[darkdemeter]

・issue #--・ 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

⚤ Dark Pirate!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Female Reader Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it? ✎ 4.1k He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

  There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss. 

  Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above. 

  You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew. 

  To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that. 

“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface. 

  A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger. 

  Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.

  He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation. 

  Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?

  Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body. 

  His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment. 

  He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation. 

  “I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”

  “Aye?” 

  Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep. 

  Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link. 

  However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance. 

  Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

  When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own. 

  Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

  He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf. 

  His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea. 

  The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back. 

  “Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion. 

  “But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze. 

  Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...” 

  A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest. 

  He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”

  “Yes, Captain Barnes.”

  Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of. 

  Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes. 

  “That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”

  His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge. 

  “All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”

  Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp. 

  “She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”

  “She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”

  The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands,  “Do it.”

  Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door. 

  He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt. 

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.” 

  With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again. 

  “Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.” 

  His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours. 

  To remind you to whom it was you belong to. 

  His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath. 

  He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity. 

  “Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.

  “C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.” 

  Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder. 

  You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”

  The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.  

  “That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder. 

  “I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.” 

  “Please, please… Cap—”

  “Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.” 

  You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear. 

  His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop. 

  What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan. 

  In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm. 

  The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together. 

  “Still deny that you found nothing?” 

  His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side. 

  The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.” 

  Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.

  For you to be his siren. 

  Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out. 

  Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite. 

  You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge. 

  The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere. 

  Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?

  You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval. 

  Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace. 

  This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief. 

  Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst. 

  You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts. 

  Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord. 

  Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song. 

  It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?

  As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home. 

  But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head. 

  Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune. 

  He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so. 

  Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him. 

  “Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow.  “I– I wasn’t—” 

  Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip.  “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hot pirate commanding a vessel on the high seas.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic

[fluoneia]

vi knew going back to piltover after another recent robbery was bad. yet, powder was sick and was in need of more nutrition and possibly some medicines. so, she made the tough, and, probably bad choice, to go back up into piltover to steal.

so here she was, scouting out nothing other then a mansion, much different to her usual small houses that she deemed safe, far away from piltover’s harsh security.

and she swore she saw the family leave for some fancy, to what she presumed to be a ball based on their crisp suits, and extravagant dresses.

so, she carefully picks the lock from the balcony, the dark room barely lit by the moonlight. she slides the door open, taking a soft step inside.

using the light from the flickering flashlight in her hand, she scoffed and smacked it against her hand, before facing it toward the room and peering around it.

her eyes widened. valuables, gold plated decorations all around the room. the gold enough, which she assumed to be real, would be enough to last her a lifetime.

she should really try robbing mansions more often.

vi quickly opens her bag, finding every valuable she could that was worth fortunes in zaun, and stuffed them inside the bag.

when she walked into the bathroom attached to the extravagant room, she takes a second to look around.

soaps, one’s that smelled of fancy perfumes and scents, and random glass jars on the counter filled with products that smelled equally as good.

she picked up a glass, opening the lid, and taking her finger through the white product. she sniffed it, before rubbing her thumb through the product in her hand.

she shrugged, closing the lid and popping it into her bag.

vi hummed, turning around, before freezing, blood running cold when she saw you, standing with a gun pointed toward her chest.

“what the hell are you doing in my house?” you sneer.

she inhaled a sharp breath, hands carefully raising above her head. “sightseeing?” she prompts.

you stare her up and down, before cocking your head behind you. you slowly take steps backward, still holding the gun toward her.

she takes the hint, stepping toward you, until you were both in the open room.

“i’m going to ask you again,” you say, head cocking backward with a frown on your face, “why are you in my house?”

“you asked what i was doing in your house last time.” she sneers.

you scoff. “you should really be more careful talking to the girl holding a gun.”

“you’re not gonna do anything with it. pilties don’t like viole—“

she is cut off as your finger clicks the trigger, shooting just to her right, with precise aim not to hit her.

“i’m not just a piltie. i’m training to be an enforcer. do you know what that means, zaunite?”

she gulped. “enlighten me.”

she stills as you take steps toward her, each soft pad against the floor making her heart thump.

“it means i’m not above killing people like some of these other soft-hearted morons are.”

“why don’t you just get this over with and turn me in?” vi says, head tilting down toward you. “or just shoot me.”

you stay silent.

“go ahead. call for your friends and turn me in to stillwater.”

“i’m not gonna do that.”

“heh?” her brows furrow, “why the hell not?”

“i don’t want to.”

“why?” vi instigates, “come on, you were just going on about how you’re gonna become a big-shot enforcer. so, turn me in.”

“you’re talking like you want me to turn you in.”

“well, why don’t you want to?”

“just shut up!” you jeer, holding the gun with a firmer grip. “what if i.. just don’t want to?”

“then.. i guess, you’re one of those soft-hearted morons.”

your face tightens. yoh stare, before sighing and lowering your gun. you toss it onto your bed, tightening your lips.

“i’m not actually training to be an enforcer.” you sigh. “i’m.. a librarian.”

“hah!” vi snorts, “so you’re just a nerd, then.”

“hey, you’re still in my house. and you’re a thief. you’re not above me.”

she tuts her lips, shrugging.

you purse your lips. “you must be hungry.”

“do you just assume all zaunites are on the brink of starvation?”

“well, aren’t you?” you contest.

she purses her lips.

“what’s your name, thief?” you jest.

“alright, lay off the thief part, cupcake.”

“you’re a thief. are you not?” you decide to ignore the nickname.

“yeah, but..” she runs a hand over her face, “it’s degrading.”

“and cupcake isn’t?” you raise a brow. “are you hungry, or not?”

“.. i could eat.” she shrugs. truth be told, she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. majority of her food was given to powder, considering she was sick.

“let’s go then.”

you leave no room for argument as you turn on your heel, opening the door to your bedroom, and walking down the hall.

vi followed, peering at the portraits on the wall. you weren’t in any of them. why?

“why aren’t you in these portraits?” vi asked, looking at the family of four with two boys, a mother and a father.

“uh..” you hesitate. “i’m adopted. they don’t really like me in their portraits.”

“oh.”

you stop walking, before turning back around.

“right. kitchens that way.”

“you don’t know the layout to your own house?” vi’s brow furrowed, tucking her hands in her pockets.

“i only moved in last year. it’s a big house, alright?” you roll your eyes, turning around, and walking.

vi hesitates, before letting it go, and following you again.

you step into the kitchen, walking inside and grabbing something out of the fridge.

she pops it into what vi presumed to be a microwave, having seen it in the houses she robbed before. you lean against the counter, and look to vi, before looking around.

“there’s some chocolates on the counter if you want some.” you offer, gesturing toward the island in the middle of the room.

“chocolate?” she questions.

“yeah.. chocolate. have you never had chocolate before?”

vi picks up one of the gold wrappers. “we don’t have candy down in the lanes. i caught powder almost trading something i was going to sell for food for a piece of candy.”

“who’s powder?”

“my little sister.” vi turns around, ears peeking at the beeping of the microwave. you take the plate out of the microwave, plopping it on the counter beside vi. you jump up, sitting on the island while vi inspects the plate.

“you can take some. i’m sure she’d love it.”

“wont your parents care?”

“nah, they won’t mind.” you shake your head, looking around the kitchen once more.

vi picks up the metal fork, stabbing it into the piece of meat on the plate, and taking a bite. her eyes light up at the taste of chicken that she hasn’t had in years, much less this tasty and rich.

she peers to you, looking at you stifle a laugh, and returns her face back to its solemn state.

“it’s alright.”

“alright? you wound me.” you place a hand on your chest, right over your heart.

“you made this?”

“yeah. i cook dinner most of the time since my brothers have extra-curricular stuff.”

vi nods.

“so.. you said your sister, powder, was sick?” you ask, tilting your head toward her.

“yeah.” vi nods, “you know the lanes.. lots of chemicals, and stuff. and it’s not so clean down there. her and little man like to run around, and i guess she caught something while they were out.”

“little man?”

“ekko. he’s with benzo. him and powder became friends, since there’s not a lot of people their age down there who still value their innocence.”

you hum.

“i think i have some medicine that could help her.” you say.

“no.” vi rejects, “no, i don’t need your medicine.”

“well, it could help—“

“why do you want to help me so much?” she drops the fork, “i’m a thief. i was robbing your bedroom.”

you purse your lips.

“you know, most pilties would turn in a criminal like me. not.. treat them to dinner, and offer to help their sick relatives.”

you jump off the counter. “yeah. im feeding you dinner, and im offering medicine for your sick sister. and, im letting you keep the stuff you stole from me.”

“like you said, you’re a thief. just be grateful im offering this to you, and stop asking questions.” you exhale.

vi gnaws at the inside of her lip. “fine. but i don’t owe you anything.”

“that’s fine with me.” you snap back. “give me your bag.”

hesitantly, vi hands her the bag off her shoulders. you thank her, walking toward the door.

and then, you sprint off.

vi’s brows furrow. “the hell?” she whispers, walking toward the door and peering around. that’s when she hears the crash of a window, and she internally cursed herself.

“hey!” she yells, racing toward the now broken window. she leans over, to see you climbing the roof and jumping through the rooftops.

of fucking course.

you weren’t a librarian. you weren’t some prissy piltover. no piltover has that sympathy.

you were a zaunite. just like her.

and you just stole her loot.

vi should be chasing after you. demanding her stuff back. but.. she just.. laughs.

a few weeks later.

vi told no one of the girl she encountered in piltover. she told no one she left for piltover that night in the first place.

you held a spot in her mind, both filled with anger and.. adoration.

vi had to admit, it was kind of funny how quickly she was to trust that girl. she didn’t live in that house, make that food. she was robbing the same house, and took advantage of the fact vi had already taken majority of the valuables.

she kind of admired you.

vi took a sip of her water, not paying attention to the conversation mylo and claggor were having.

and that’s when she saw you. delivering pieces of metal to vander.

vi abruptly stands.

“hey!” she calls out across the bar, “you!”

she races over to you. as soon as you see her, your eyes widen, instantly racing out the bar. she chases after you.

“cupcake, get back here!”

“cupcake?” mylo and claggor say in unison.

“oh, you little—“ vi races out the bar.

“better luck next time!” you laugh, racing down the street.

“i’m gonna find you! you can’t run forever!”

but you were long gone.

vi would find you. because you intrigued her more then anyone ever had, and..

she couldn’t lie and say you weren’t all that bad looking. what can she say?

vi likes the chase.