#fuck pride and painful knees and hips that will keep you awake at night

[cloverhighfive]

Just like walkers have various shoes. Makes total sense.

We need an infomercial with ppl falling on their face all the time for no reason. "Difficulty walking in spite of a perfectly well-functioning body? Get a wheelchair!" (sparkles and balloons) cue to a series of situations where it is so convenient and a call-now number.

So abled ppl will buy wheelchairs and make them more affordable for everyone.

wheelchair users deserve a minimum of three wheelchairs to meet different needs. like, bare minimum of indoor chair, outdoor chair, and off road chair. chairs that meet different needs for transport, activity, positioning needs, energy levels, etc.

there is not "one chair" that can meet every need. wheelchair users deserve to have multiple chairs that meet specific needs, no matter how complex their seating/positioning needs. we deserve to at least have a backup if our chair breaks that is just as suited to our needs.

[sluttyten]

sicheng, 10

Sicheng + “you’re mine. and i’ll make sure you don’t forget.”

“You’re mine, right?” Sicheng asks you one quiet night. He’d been asleep the last you checked, and you were playing with his hair as you sat up in bed watching TV.

“I didn’t know you were awake.” You brush your fingers over his cheek, and look down at him to find he’s already looking up at you. “And what are you talking about? Asking if I’m yours? Who else’s would I be? You are my boyfriend.”

Sicheng hums happily. “I was just dreaming.”

“What kind of dream?” You comb your fingers lightly through his hair. “A good one?”

Sicheng sits up, reaching up to clasp your hand in his against the side of his head. He turns his head to the side, brushing his lips against your wrist. He explains, “You were leaving me.”

“Well, I’m here, and I’m not planning to go anywhere.” You sigh gently as he continues kissing along your forearm. “Must’ve been a bad dream to make you all affectionate like this.”

His mouth skips over to your shoulder, tender. “Don’t like the thought of losing you.”

“Sicheng,” you twist your hold into his hair lightly, dragging his mouth up to yours. “What are you talking about?”

You’re not going anywhere. Even if he doesn’t understand the full extent of that, you don’t understand how he could think that you would leave him. You’re here. You’re in his bed. You’ve been with him for ages now, you’re in love with him. The only thing that makes this worry over your loyalty to him make sense is jealousy.

And now, as he moves over you, as you both slide down the bed so you’re lying on your back, you smile at him. “Was I leaving you for someone else in that bad dream?”

Sicheng scowls.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You laugh. “Who was it? One of the guys?”

You watch the green light of jealousy growing in his eyes. You prod him a little more, just wanting to see where you can push him.

“Oh,” you laugh again, “It was one of them, wasn’t it? Which one, I wonder? I mean, I’m close with Kun, so maybe he’s the one that would be able to—“

Sicheng crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. “You’re mine,” he all but growls. “And I’ll make sure you don’t forget it.”

Sicheng has a thing for marking you up—living hickeys staining your skin, fingerprints bruised into your hips from holding too tight, raw red marks on your wrists and ankles from ropes that were just a bit too harsh on your skin, and the pretty drag of nails over your back or thighs or shoulders. He likes seeing his mark on you, and you like having them there, little reminders every time you look in the mirror, every time you feel the little twinge of sensitivity. Little reminders that he’s yours.

So the prick of his jealousy drives him to ravage you in the best way. His lips burning across your collarbones, chest, shoulders, over your breasts and ribs and your stomach.

“You’re mine,” he tells you when he comes back up for a kiss, and you cling to his hair, holding him there to taste his jealousy, rich on his tongue. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“You gonna tell them?” You ask him. “Or are you going to let them hear me? Hear how good you make me feel? I’ve overheard Kun, that time when we came home early, babe, and he could—“

Sicheng slaps his hand over your mouth. “Hush.”

You open your mouth, attempt to say something else, but then Sicheng reaches down and grabs your ass. “Mine, baby.”

He flips you over smoothly, dragging your ass up by your hips. You moan, rolling your ass back against him. Sicheng palms your ass, thumb dipping down in that crease, down to your pussy.

“You know no one else can make you feel as good as I make you feel, baby.” He plays with your pussy, massaging your ass, grinding against the back of your thigh where you can feel him growing harder and harder as you push back into his touch and do your best to not let him hear the needy moans you’re holding back, let him think he needs to give you more.

And it works because he does give you more.

Sicheng’s tip presses against your entrance beside his thumb, and he just stays like that, not moving, just teasing you with what you could have, and at last you break, at last you moan his name.

“That’s what I thought.” He sounds so filled with pride as you moan and attempt to twist around to look at him, but then his hands are on your hips with his bruising grip that you love to feel still the morning after, and he thrusts into you.

“Mine, you’re all mine. I don’t want you thinking about anyone else.” He leans forward to say the words directly into your ear. “When you feel my hands on your hips still tomorrow, and when the bruises from my lips linger in your skin for a week, you’re gonna think of me, baby, won’t you? Not Kun. Not Johnny. None of them. Just me.”

Each word, he punctuates with a deep thrust, the smack of skin on skin. He straightens up, giving himself a better angle to drive you wild.

You get off on the ripple of slight pain as he drags his nails from your hips down the sides of your thighs, as he starts fucking you with sharp snaps of his hips against your ass.

You reach under yourself to touch your clit, and your moans leave your lips in raspy breaths. Your body rocks forward on your knees with each thrust, and the headboard of the bed rattles against the wall, loud enough that if anyone else was home in the dorm tonight, they would definitely know what was going on. But it’s just you and Sicheng, just the way you like it.

Sicheng cums first, quicker than you expected, though probably driven there by his jealousy, the idea of leaving you marked up and dripping with his cum. He pulls halfway out, so when he draws back to sit on his ankles, his cum oozes out of your still desperate to be filled pussy.

“No, no,” you moan, clenching, trying to hold his load inside you.

“You want more? Want my cum in you, stuffing you full? Say it, baby. Say it and I’ll give you more.” Sicheng drags his fingers between your legs, collecting his cum. “Whose are you, baby girl?”

“I’m yours. Only yours.” It is something that was never really in doubt at all.

“That’s right,” Sicheng says brightly. “All mine. Now turn over for me.”

You fall into your side, twisting quickly into your back with your legs still spread for him. Sicheng fingers his cum back inside you, swirling his thumb against your clit while his fingers keep working his cum back into your needy pussy, and when he’s satisfied with that, he takes his fingers away, and fills you with his still erect cock again.

Your nails drag over his shoulders and back, surely marking him up in your own way, and he buries his head against the sensitive skin of your chest, sucking and biting. His hips clap against your ass, and your thighs and hips ache as he pushes your legs higher and farther apart so he can hit deeper and

You cum with a cry of his name, fingernails pricking his skin, and that sharp pain brings about his second orgasm. Your bodies keep moving together on auto, chasing after the sweet ecstasy of each other, until at last Sicheng slips out of you, and he falls to the side, trapping one of your legs beneath him.

“How was that?” He asks you, “Do you feel good? You did good, looked so pretty on my cock. Took me so well.” He strokes some of your hair back out of your face, kisses your cheek. “I just hate the idea of you not being mine. Please, don’t ever leave me.”

“I love you, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about, Sicheng.” You kiss him again, pressing against his chest, sliding your arm over him. “I am at my happiest when I’m with you. In every possible way, I’m happy, and I know that I belong with you because like you said, I’m yours, but you know what, you’re mine too. You’re like the other half of me, the stars to my sun, the light to my dark. You’re mine, too Dong Sicheng.”

“I’m yours.” He kisses you, and squeezes his arms around you, embracing you tightly to his chest. His heart beats against yours, his stomach and chest and legs are so close to your skin that there’s not a space in between.

You know in the morning your chest will be covered in bruises the shape of his mouth, and you know that you should really check out the scratches you left down his back, but for now you stay like this, tangled together in each other’s arms, hearts pounding and happy in the knowledge that you belong entirely to each other.

Requests are now closed! Thank you to everyone who sent these in, I’m just finishing the last drabble requests in my inbox!

[beels-burger-babe]

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 2

Poly! MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC

TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Vomit Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE, Part 4: HERE

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation

Your leaving hadn't made the situation at the House any better. Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air and glared at the rest. "Great! Just wonderful! Now they've run off. Happy now?" venom filled his words, but he could feel his heart race in fear that he had just lost the one person who loved him for more than his looks. Satan scoffed, though he glanced at the door through the corner of his eyes. "Don't act like you're better than us. I didn't see you standing up for them." Levi growled and went straight to his room as Satan and Asmodeus began to argue. Beel took a step towards to door you had just marched out of and glance between it and his brothers. "Should we go after them? It's dark and they're drunk."

Lucifer lifted his chin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should we? It's like they said, they don't want to depend on us anymore, fine. Let them see for themself how far they get without our protection," with those words, Lucifer turned on his heel and stormed to his office.

Beel sighed and looked at Belphie, "What do you think? We can go get them together?" Belphie stared at the door for a minute, a guilty look in his eyes, before he shook his head. "Give them space, Beel. They're probably heading for Purgatory Hall. Simeon and the others can take care of them for tonight. Right now we all just need to calm down before facing each other again," he patted his twin's shoulder before heading to their room; regret swirling in his stomach as he thought of how he betrayed you once more.

Mammon stood frozen staring at the door like he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted to do. His instincts screamed at him to get you back in his arms and keep you there. You were his human, reckless or not, and he had a duty to protect you both as your assigned protector and as your boyfriend. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to move his feet. His mind replayed the discussion in his head over and over again. He had once told MC that if they couldn't be saved by him, to make sure that they died. That he was the only one allowed to protect them. Tonight, as everyone was fighting, MC needed him to protect them, but instead, he pushed them towards the wolves. He let his greed get the best of him. "Fuck," Mammon cursed to himself as he shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Beel restraining Satan from pouncing onto a sneering Asmodeus. He sighed and shook his head. They hadn't fought like this in a long time. You had always been there to put them into their place. Now look at them. Mammon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Will you guys cut it out? MC is gone, okay? Ain't nothin' we can do about it now," to his surprise, his younger brothers actually stopped and seemed to be listening to him. Mammon huffed and began walking towards the stairs. "It's like Belphie said. We ain't in no place to make things better right now. Fightin' like this is what got us in this position, so quit it. Get some sleep. We'll figure it all in the mornin'." Beel, Satan and Asmodeus blinked at their older brother as he disappeared upstairs. Seeing Mammon mature and take control of the situation like that, was strange, but not unfamiliar. Asmodeus massaged his temples with one hand and fixed his hair with the other. "Ugh, all this fighting is going to be horrid for my skin," he glanced at the door one more time with a defeated look before heading towards his room. Satan clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, taking a few deep breaths, before silently nodding at Beel and walking away. All alone, Beel stepped towards the door. He opened it and looked out at the dark vast of the Devildom before him. With a heavy, guilty heart, he closed the door and pressed his forehead against it. He used one hand to lock the door for the evening, while the other pulled out his D.D.D. The others didn't want him going after you, but a message couldn't hurt, right? He opened your contact and wrote out his text, "Hey MC. I'm sorry for how things happened tonight. Things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for not doing anything to stop that. I know you and the others are upset right now, but I was hoping that tomorrow, once we're all calm, you could come back home and we could talk about it?" Beel sat by the door for half an hour waiting for a response, but none ever came. He frowned and glanced up at the locked door handle before shaking his head. "Maybe they left it on silent for a bit," he mumbled to himself before picking up his phone once more. "Text me when you get to Purgatory Hall. You don't need to say anything else. I just want to know you're safe." With that, Beel headed towards the gym. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted you home, but he couldn't have that. So in the meantime, he'd stay awake until he at least knew you were safe.

Only the morning came and went, and there was no word from you. The brothers were starting to get concerned. No matter what was said last night, they still loved you. You all needed to talk, yes, and things needed to be worked out, but that didn't change how they felt for you. They would never want to see you hurt. Lucifer had reached out to Simeon, while Asmodeus contacted Solomon and Beel texted Luke. Only Beel received a response. "Never contact me again. If you come anywhere near Purgatory Hall, I will not hesitate to smite you in an instant, you foul fiend?" Satan read out loud as he passed the phone back to a very confused and worried Beel. "What in the world did you do to him?" "Nothing. At least, I don't think," he thought about for a second. "I've stolen his baked goods on occasion, but besides complaining about as I did it, he never seemed to hold a grudge." Lucifer frowned deeply. "This is clearly about MC. Luke has taken to them as though they're his older sibling."

Levi scowled and pressed a few buttons on his game. "Sure they aren't dating him too?" he yelped as Asmodeus smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it," Asmodeus growled. "I know you're the Avatar of Envy, Levi, but MC was open and honest with us. They told us that they loved us all and that they wanted a relationship with all of us. We all listened to what they offered and agreed. You agreed to this!"

Levi huffed and put down his game. "Because it was better than not having them at all!" he sighed and put an arm over his face. "I know that they love me, and them being with a-all of us doesn't change that, but it's so hard sometimes. I-I-I just-" "Want 'em to yourself?" Mammon provided. Levi blushed and nodded in response. Mammon shrugged and sat down beside him. "We all understand that Levi. This is somethin' new for all of us. When I see MC bein' sweet with you guys I get this urge to just rip 'em off ya and hold 'em tight in my arms where ya guys can never touch 'em again," he sighed and put a hand on Levi's shoulder, "but then I see MC smile at me the same way they smile at Beel or you or Lucifer. I know that when I'm holdin' them, they're thinkin' of me and they're there with me because they treasure our time together. It's hard sometimes, and it hurts to admit, but you guys make MC happy, and I can't take that away from them." He nudged his younger brother gently, "Neither can you." Everyone sat quietly as they thought of Mammon's words. "They always bring me snacks after my workouts," Beel said with a small smile. "They always seem to know when I'm hungry and would just whip out snacks out of nowhere." Satan leaned onto his knees from where he sat on his chair. "They ordered me their favourite books from the human world on Akuzon. They wanted to do a trade. I'd read their favourites and they'd read mine. That way we could learn a bit about each other just by reading something that the other loved and would understand one another a little better." Belphie tiredly rubbed his eyes and leaned against Beel. "They wake me up after all class and before any meals," he chuckled softly at the memory. "No matter how much I snarled or insulted them, they'd just put their hands on their hips and patiently wait for me to wake up so that I wouldn't miss any of my classes or any meals."

Asmodeus giggled and smiled brightly. "That alone proves how much of an angel they are. Your demon side really shows when you're woken up." The others laughed as Belphegor stuck his tongue out at Asmo. "They would always give me their opinion on my outfits. I know it seems impossible, but even I get torn between which outfit I should bless the public with sometimes. MC would always be the voice of reason to help me choose," his eyes softened, "Though they always said at the end that the most beautiful thing about me was my heart, something no one could see but radiated from the outside-in." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as he put aside his pride, and spoke. "They check on me in the middle of the night. I swear they have an alarm. They'll come into my office to see if I'm still awake. If I am, so long as the work isn't truly urgent, they'll poke my cheek and play with my hair until I give in and go to bed."

Everyone turned to Levi. The otaku's face was bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze. "Your turn, Levi," Mammon ordered. "Come on. I know that MC's super gentle with ya. Ya have to have somethin' to add." Leviathan pouted before mumbling. "They'll hold my hand when we're in crowds and in public because they know how anxious it makes me. If I start to freak out, they'll just gently squeeze my hand and pull me along until they can find a quiet space where I can calm down a bit," he groans and glares at Mammon. "What's your point?"

"His point," Satan began calmly, "is that MC loves us all equally. They take special care to do the little things to ensure that we all know that we are loved by them." Mammon nodded and pointed and Satan. "Exactly!" Lucifer hummed in thought. "Though this doesn't fix the problem of MC having no regard for their own safety." Everyone winced. There was no denying that. You admitted it yourself. You were reckless, and in a place like the Devildom, that kind of behaviour would get you killed one day. What would happen if you weren't with them one day? Just like you currently weren't. Memories of your storm out swirled in all of their heads, and concern pooled heavily in their stomachs. "Has anyone heard from them yet?" Belphie asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. But then again, he was always protective of you as he never wanted you to get hurt again, especially since he had been responsible for so much of your pain in the past. Beel opened his mouth to respond when Asmodeus's D.D.D. went off. Everyone eagerly stood, as Asmo pulled out the device and answered it without checking. "MC? Are you alright?" "Put it on speaker!" Levi snapped, crowding as close to his brother as he could. Asmodeus nodded and quickly did as told. The voice that answered wasn't you, as they had all hoped, but rather Solomon. "I'm afraid they're not," the brother's felt their blood freeze at Solomon's words, as time seemed to stand still around them. Solomon's voice was cold and stern, showing his obvious anger at the demons. "I apologize for not contacting you all sooner, but I was spending every last second of my time and energy on trying to keep MC from dying of blood loss. That, and Luke is quite determined to keep the lot of you as far from MC as possible. If it was up to him I wouldn't even be calling you all right now. I, however, figured that you should at least be made aware of their condition." None of them heard a thing after the words "dying from blood loss" reached their ears. Lucifer took the D.D.D. from Asmo's shaking hands. "What happened? The last we saw them they-" "Presumably walked away from a fight with all of you and was trying to come to us. Yes. I'm aware. I read Beelzebub's texts on MC's phone," everyone glanced at Beel. His brows narrowed as he kept his eyes fixed on the D.D.D. "To answer your question, MC didn't make it to Purgatory Hall last night. They were jumped by a group of three demons who seemed to think that human would make a delectable midnight snack. What do you think, Beelzebub? Is that true? Is the taste of human flesh, really so delicious? I think I've heard you comment as much once or twice before you all began your relationship," Solomon spat the words accusingly. Fury danced on his tongue as though he was Wrath himself. Beel winced back and put a hand on his stomach as flipped inside of him. Belphie growled at the mention in his defence. "Stop dancing around the subject and get to the point. What happened? Are they okay?" The demons were surprised to hear a snarl come from the other end. "I already told you, they aren't. Luke had opened a window to air out some of the kitchens after he failed a new recipe he was trying out when he heard their screams. By the time we got there one of them had eaten half of their right leg, while was one biting along their shoulder, and the other was trying to choke them to death. Simeon and I were able to get the heathens off of them and incinerated them on the spot, but MC was already unconscious. While we were fighting the demons, Luke was just barely able to cast enough healing spells to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. Simeon and I have been working ever since on using every spell, charm, and potion that we know to keep them alive and somehow attempt to heal their injuries." At the mention of MC's leg have been mostly eaten, Beel turned and threw up on the ground. No one moved to comfort him, as they were too distracted by their own states of shock. "A-Are-" Mammon began to choke out before clearing his throat. "Are they

alive? Please tell me they're alive." The answer hung just out of their grasp. Waving dangerously above them like a deadly knife held up by a string. No matter what the response would be, all the brothers felt as though they may faint. "They're alive. Simeon had to use all his power to bring their blood count levels up to a healthy level, and their shoulder was dislocated, they most likely have a concussion going off of their head injury, not to mention their right leg was unsalvagable and had to be amputated, but yes. They are, at the very least, alive." Mammon joined Beel. Satan stood still, though he had changed into his demon form and the aura of pure wrath filled every cranny of the room. Asmodeus held a hand over his mouth as tears streamed steadily down his face. Leviathan had stumbled away from the group and was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Belphie stared at the phone with a bewildered expression, his eyes pricked with tears, as though he couldn't believe the words coming from Solomon's mouth.

Lucifer was doing everything he could not to hurl the phone across the room.

Solomon continued. "Luke is currently watching them and making sure that they remain stable, while Simeon and I rest. As such, you will have no luck if you try to see them right now. I'll text you when I wake up and then you can come to see them," with that, Solomon hung up. Anxiety, grief, and remorse clung to each of the brothers like a new skin. Earlier they were arguing that all of them had your love, and because of that, all of them had nearly lost you. ***Duh duh duh!!! Part three to come. Part three will probably be the final part, but I don't know. Haven't quite figured out how this is going to end yet. Though a heads up, a may fill out another request before pt. 3 is up just to give me a break from the heavy angst. Thank you all so much for supporting me! And thank you to @millenniumofpain for the request!***

[heresathreebee]

Wearing THAT Part 2

Summary: Reader teases Dewey in a Poison Ivy costume. You finally get to fuck you best friend. Let him show you stars. Previous Masterlist

Tags: 17+ | Undressing, oral sex (female and male receiving), protected sex, light choking and spanking, and hair pulling

AN: damn I took way too long to post this but IT'S FINALLY HERE PLEASE ENJOY

“Big baby,” you hiss. 

“What was that?” Dewey sat up on his haunches and his jeans burned as he straddled your bare thighs. You could honestly say you never once imagined this would happen in real life and you’re kinda nervous about the expectations not just for you but for him. Yet every move he makes brings you confidence– you’re both all in now, why not have fun? You were about to fuck your best friend afterall. Speaking of, Dewey brings your attention back to the present when you feel his warm hands slide around your wrists and pin you to the bed below. “What did you say?” 

You can’t help but squirm and you feel the gush of new wetness seep out of you. Dominant Dewey was never something directed at you before now. “I called you a baby! What are you gonna do about it?” 

He knows you’re egging him on and he’s content to let you. His grip becomes tighter on your wrists to the point of pain and he loosens his grip like a warning. “Maybe I’ll flip you over and spank you, that what you want, you little brat?” 

Un-fucking-believeable. You hate being called a brat, fucking loathe the word, but it sounds like the sweetest threat coming from him (maybe because you know he doesn’t actually mean it). You want to say yes, but Dewey climbs off of you to disrobe. White button up whipped to the floor by the lamp, superman t-shirt lost to the carpet by the door. It’s when he starts to undo his belt that you involuntarily whimper. 

He hears you and goes a little slower. 

"This what you need," he says with certainty. "Fuck, you look good." 

His grip on your ankle encourages you as you slowly but surely wriggle and roll from your back to your belly, never breaking eye contact but feeling your whole body tremble. Dewey must see it as he drops his belt to the wayside much to your disappointment. You want to correct him, tell him you're excited, not scared, but you shut your mouth. Maybe it's for the best, you decide, maybe next time. 

You yelp and quickly cover your mouth when you feel Dewey's hand come down on your ass. Dewey watches your flesh jiggle with a smirk. You feel heat seer through your body and grab one of his pillows to bite down on. You wiggle your hips encouraging him to do more. 

You feel his hands slide up the backs of your thighs and then his teeth give you a nip on your sore cheek. The wetness between your legs grows. Dewey's hand comes down on your other cheek and your eyes roll back into your head. He groans and you hear him finally drop his jeans onto the floor before you feel his warmth meld onto your back. 

Dewey plants a tiny kiss behind your ear. "Ned's still awake. We have to be quiet," he whispers regrettably. 

"So?" You try to roll your hips and feel what can only be his hardened member. "Patty's out, what's Ned gonna do?" 

"Ned will come in here if we're not trying," Dewey replies, "he's done it before, trust me." 

You smack your lips to let him know you're annoyed but you are also immediately distracted by Dewey's warmth as it soaks into you. He's like your own personal heating unit, a furnace in human form. You can hardly feel the chill that usually takes over the room and you bet if you stood outside in the true Chicagoan winter in his arms you might not feel a thing. 

His tongue is even hotter as he runs it between your shoulder blades. You know he's right– there's no spanking your butt in a way that feels good and is light enough not to make a lot of sound. You two haven't even had sex yet and you're already thinking of next time. 

He purrs in your ear, "I'll make it up to you right now." 

Dewey nudges your legs apart to sit between them. You want to turn over and watch him but you're committed to this position and the thrill of not really knowing what comes next. He doesn't leave you wanting for long as his hand slides between your belly and the comforter and his hips roll against you, languidly brushing his cock between your moist folds. 

Fuck. "Do that again…" 

You're not the one in control here, and just to remind you of that, Dewey ignores you. You feel him pull away and his hands circle your hips up so he can slide a pillow underneath and prop you up higher. You spread your legs almost unconsciously and await eagerly for his next move. 

"Fuck." His breath ghosts over your backside and it makes you even more of a mess than you already are. "I can't believe it took us so long…" 

The feeling of his fingers digging into your cheeks is followed by the feeling of him pulling them, spreading them wider for better access to you. Your body trembles in anticipation and your eyes drift shut as you feel his dexterous tongue circle your entrance. Dewey's moan makes you clench and you have to bite down on the pillow you've kept to your chest to keep quiet. 

Dewey's mouth is languid and exploratory as he lavishes your most intimate parts with some much needed and long awaited attention. Your eyes roll back twice when he dips down to lick your clit, then goes back to focusing on your hole. The tip of his nose is another maddening sensation constantly bumping into you unexpectedly. You're used to your partner's noses bumping your clit, not your other hole. 

Just when you think you can't take anymore teasing, Dewey pushes two fingers into you down to the knuckle and you whine. They're fucking thick and you definitely saw that beast he's got swinging between his legs so you know this is merely preparation for what's to come next. It forces you to shiver and squeeze the intrusion much to Dewey's delight. 

"Dewey…" 

Dewey hums against you and your core tightens in response. The scratchy hair on his chin is driving you to the edge faster than you ever thought possible but you want to see him. You twist and contort until you can look and reach behind you. Instead of tangling your fingers in his hair, you pet him. His eyes open lazily, looking at you over the swell of your ass. His fingers and mouth never stop working your body with the same skill he puts into playing his guitar and you can't stop that wave of emotion from crashing over you. 

Your fingers curl into his hair and you can barely feel the moan he releases into your pussy because you are completely star bound as you cum. 

Your legs twitch as you fall limp to the surface of the bed. Your head is still in the clouds and you barely notice Dewey crawling up your body to lay half next to you half on top to just cuddle with you and let you come back to your feet. You're grateful for the brief respite as you catch your breath and come to. 

"Holy fuck." Your voice is muffled by a pillow and it makes Dewey chuckle. You roll over, put a hand on his chest to push him back and resettle face to face, then rest your eyes. "Gimme like five minutes." 

"That good huh?" His voice is positively dripping with smugness but you let him have it. 

There's nothing like the feeling of his head on your shoulder and his fingers gently grazing the back of your thigh. Dewey's not in a rush to finish, this is your first time together and he wants it to be good– he needs it to be good. Because he likes you. 

You catch your breath and sit up, forcing Dewey to roll off of you. He gets a good look at your front now that you've sat up and he drinks it all in, eyes never lingering in one place too long. That pride goes straight to your head and you lean over him mischievously. 

"This ain't everything you got, is it Rockstar?," you tease, "gonna show me what else you got, right?" 

Dewey's eyes quickly turn dark again and his hands slide up your thighs to your hips. One hand grips the back of your neck and pulls you down into a deep kiss, your nipples tingling as they brush the hair on his chest. You don't expect him to flip you over and can't stop the AAAAUUGH that escapes your mouth. 

You land right under the headboard not three inches from the night stand. Dewey towers over you, hips keeping your legs apart but it's not enough so Dewey presses his palms down on the inside of your knees to open you up even more, as far as you'll go. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip and you're briefly worried he's going to eat you out again– you want his cock. 

The bobbing, red thing that's been leaking precum since you sat in his lap at the party. He must have noticed your line of sight as his hips jut forward just a little bit, inviting you to touch him. You make him look at you as you reach for it, feeling the smooth velvet skin wrapped over an iron rod. It's imperfect in that good way. Curves a little to his left at the end and he keeps his bush trimmed. You give his cock a squeeze at the base with every stroke and watch his eyes roll back into his head. 

Dewey swallows roughly and shakes his head as if staving off a fog. He flicks your hand from his cock and leans down to kiss you again. You allow his tongue entrance without hesitation and run your fingers through his hair, just basking in his attention despite the throbbing need in your core. 

You definitely hear somebody open the door over Dewey's sweet moan, but it's forgotten as soon as the door closes and the grumble that follows is muffled on the other side. It sounded suspiciously like finally. 

You hum and break the kiss to breathe, "want your cock in my mouth." 

Dewey is already shaking his head but you're adamant. "Just for a second, please? It'll only be a second." 

"You're bold in assuming I'm going to last a second on that wicked tongue of yours." 

You chuckle, but you lean back anyway and lick your bottom lip expectantly. Dewey rolls his eyes playfully, but he can't hide that he wants to see– even if only for a second– just how far you can take him. And he is in for a surprise. 

"This is such a bad idea," he says, crawling up your body. "Stupid idea. Terrible…" 

When his hips are high on your shoulders you open your mouth wide, tongue out just to tease him. You are rewarded with a deep, deep groan. Dewey's already thinking about how he's never going to recover from this. 

With his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he presses the leaking tip to your tongue. 

Instantly you give him a firm lick and feel his whole body shiver. The frenulum of his cock slides along the tip of your tongue deeper into your awaiting mouth. You wrap your lips around it and suck. The noise it pulls out of Dewey makes your nipples ache. 

"Fuck…" 

You relax your throat and take more of him and half way down his shaft you feel the hair of his balls tickle your chin. The man has to grab the headboard to keep himself upright, eyes rolling back into his head as he tries not to cum then and there. Before you can do anything more, his hips pull back, hand pressed to your forehead and he slides out of your mouth with a wet pop. 

"No more, no more," he begs. He looks delirious for half a moment before he gathers his wits and climbs off the bed. He digs around in his nightstand for condoms, flashing six foil packets and asking with far more sense than he has in the past few minutes, "what color?" 

"Green." 

Dewey tosses the others on the nightstand and rolls the green one on at your request. He mumbles something under his breath and you kick him in his pert little ass. "What was that?" 

"I said you would pick green." 

"Well I gotta remind you how good I look in it, don't I?" 

Dewey returns to the bed, towering over you from between your legs and ratcheting them up higher, bending you almost in half to glower almost menacingly. "The next time I catch you wearing tights, I'm going to fuck you through them." 

You hum and buck your hips in invitation. "promises, promises…" 

He kisses you as he finally, finally slides inside of your wet, tight heat. He tries, tries, tries to take it slow but once he's got the head in, he snaps his hips the rest of the way home, needing to be engulfed in you now. Your pussy feels even better on his cock than his fingers and you felt fucking amazing on his fingers. 

"Babe…" 

You dig your fingers in his hair and pull hard. "Fuck me, Dewey. I want bruises." 

Your command is his to obey. It's not long before his deep, testing thrusts become a brutal pounding, one where he has to grip the headboard with white knuckles and hold you down with the other hand on your stomach. You take it– all of it– with dirty moans and thrashing. He's hitting something deep inside you that nobody has ever hit before and it's fucking unravelling you at the seems. 

"So good…" his mumbling voice finally rises enough that you can make sense of his words over the wet slap of skin on skin. You're both coated in sweat and drunk on each other's bodies. Your eyes drifted shut at some point trying to not get overwhelmed by the many sensations but they fly open when you feel fingers around your neck. 

Dewey's looking down at you and you've never felt hotter. His hand squeezes– for nothing more than a single second– and he watches you, still pounding away at your pussy. 

You lean your head back, a silent offering. The next breath you take is deep and you are given no choice but to hold it as Dewey finally finally clamps his hand around your throat like a vice. Your mouth opens subconsciously but you cannot gasp. No air goes in or out of your lungs, there is only a burn beginning in your chest and a dizziness in your head. 

Your eyes roll back and you break the instant Dewey let's slip a very unconscious and in the moment "fucking love you." 

Stars burst behind your widened eyes and a gush of wet seeps in from somewhere in your body and pushes Dewey's cock out. He let's your throat go and has to cover your mouth at the volume of your moan. 

The man laughs at the spectical and pushes back inside your heat, fucking your through your second orgasm and delighting in being covered in way more liquid than either of you expected. 

His pace changes, long deep strokes meant for him and his pleasure. How he can still fuck you at this pace will leave you wondering for months after this, but he does and he does it so well. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down flush against your skin. 

The change in angle brushes your clit and causes tiny sparks in you and you tighten around Dewey with a purr. He meets your purr with a growl, burying his face in your chest and continuing to pump into you. He's close, you can feel it in the frantic change in his rhythm. Dewey keeps time like a fucking metronome but he's lost in the feeling of your skin, your smell, your embrace. 

Your legs wrap around his hips and you run your tongue over his ear before you whisper, "I love you too, Dewey." 

Dewey's entire body freezes. His cock throbs with the beat of his heart as he fills the green condom and presses his hips into yours as hard as he can. He can't breathe until his orgasm recedes, and by then you're coming again too just from the excitement of it all. He can barely hear the whimper he releases into the hollow of your throat as your pussy milks him for all he's worth. 

You're both shaking for several minutes in the afterglow, holding each other and catching your collective breaths. You barely remember cleaning up and changing the sheets. You do remember sharing starry eyed glances and giggles with Dewey just before finally falling into bed and curling into each other. 

"Ok," you say, "I know I said we don't have to label it but…" 

Dewey drags his knuckles against your spine. "Yeah… if you had to pick a name… what would you call it?" 

You hum and draw stars on his chest. "How about… for the rest of my life?" 

Dewey smiles till his cheeks hurt. "I could get behind that." 

~

Morning comes with a flourish of sounds. Dewey's snoring, birds chirping, Patty knocking. 

Oh god Patty's knocking… 

You bury your face in Dewey's neck and groan. There's no way she remembers your promise… right? She's knocking a lot, maybe she's just mad with a huge hangover. "Dewey! Where's my girl? Dewey!" 

"She's in here!" Your head shot up and you looked at Dewey with a face belying utter betrayal. Dewey simply looked at you with no remorse, like a cat who pushed your glass of wine from the table. "Ready to go for a run babe? You're good right? Do your legs work?" 

"You motherfuck–" 

But then Patty was opening the door with a confused face and you had to scramble to cover your nudity. "What? You're sleeping in the same bed now?" 

"Uh…" you're at a loss for words between the two of them. 

"Doesn't matter, get dressed! You can borrow my clothes or Dewey's, shower later! Let's go!" 

As soon as Patty's gone from the door, you turn on Dewey. The man throws a hand up in defense but instead of catching your hands, you kiss him. You hold his heart in your hands and kiss him deep and long. When you finally pull back, he's breathless and ready for a second round. 

And that's when you tell him, "when I get back, I'm gonna smash your guitar into tiny little pieces and stab you with them." 

You left him alone to panic for the hour you were gone (he spent it hiding his equipment from you). 

The End

@fundamentally-lazy @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @imma-fucking-nerd

[lovieebby]

The Crying Game

Poly!Oscar Issac x Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a cold winter night, when Oscar’s sleep comes and goes, him and Pedro find themselves thinking differently when you cry.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! ddlg themes, crying kink, kinda dub con if you rlly squint, vaginal penetration, bodily fluids, oral/m receiving, heavy dirty talk, poly relationship

Note: Meda and I where talking about me touching base on how my theory of pedro (and oscar) having a crying kink, so here it is! Hope you love it from the depths of my horny corner! AND THANK YOU @pinksdaydream FOR HELPING ME THIS MADE IT 1000 TIMES BETTER!!!! 😩💞

In the large king bed with the heater ridding the cold breeze of the outside snow, Oscar awoke to the glowing moon. His arm was draped over your waist while your legs tangled with Pedro’s, comfortable and calm in the meer hours of the night. Oscar had been tossing and turning most of the night yet didn’t realize he fell asleep when he woke up with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

He felt his lashes flutter against the whisps of stray hairs from your now loose bun that had held your hair before you fell in your own sleep. He kept quiet for some time, listening to yours and Pedro’s breathing in hopes it would lull him back to sleep, but his mind and body were wide awake. Nights like these usually consisted of him sneaking out of the warm bed and creeping down stairs to the at home gym in the garage, though something different stirred awake. A little voice chanting erotic words and thoughts as you shifted unknowingly into his hardened member.

With slow and gentle movements, Oscar rolled you completely to your belly and propped your hips up slightly as he crawled behind your sleeping form. You groaned softly, making Oscar grin lazily when your legs spread to brase yourself. Even in your sleep you know your daddy’s touch and the thought made Oscar’s chest swell with pride at his little princess getting ready for him in her sleep.

He brought the blanket down just a tad, letting it lay on the back of your knees and pulling your nightie up your back. Your body still breathed evenly, sleeping peacefully which brought Oscar to spit loudly on your winking lips, bending impossibly close to your pussy to do it once more. He licked his spit through your folds and gathered it at your clenching hole as you mewled brokenly in the fluffy pillows.

You tried to stretch as Oscar folded his pants down, lining his cock up quickly to your entrance before you awoke. The bed dipped with his knees, restling the placement of the blanket and waking Pedro up with a quick intake of air. It took him a moment to understand the situation, but soon aware of what Oscar was doing by the time his cock was seethed completely into your cunt. Pedro’s smile was small and pleasant, watching Oscar fuck you awake. His hand came to lay lazily ontop of your head and brushed the hairs covering your face as your brows furrowed in confusion.

Oscar was slow with his thrusts, but pushing deep within you, making your hips tilt upwards. He felt your walls constrict and relax in one flush movement, your cunt spooked at first but realizing who and what had entered, relaxing its velvet walls around Oscar’s thick cock.

You muttered something under your breath as your heavy eyes opened slowly, Pedro being the first person you see while your body jults and withers. You began to pant in pleasure when your mind caught up with the real world, Pedro’s warm palm pressing on your cheek as you moaned brokenly.

“Someone’s awake,” Pedro cooed, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes trailing to Oscar’s hands fisting your night dress.

“G’mornin’ baby girl,” Oscar grunted, his hips stilling to your ass only to pick up his pace.

You grunted lowly, pouting your lips as Oscar slid out then pushing deep in a slow thrust. His breath was hot and shallow on your overly warm skin, sending your senses haywire at the sudden pleasure.

“P-papa?” You mewled, nose scrunched as your palms came to rub your eyes though Oscar’s thrusts knocked your head closer to the bed, “Daddy!”

Pedro chuckled at your squeal as Oscar hummed in delight with a lazy smirk. You hiccuped with a cry, your arms pushing you up to see your lovers clearly but Oscar and Pedro both had the thought of keeping you down. Pedro’s hand holding your shoulder blades down while Oscar held your hips closer to his. You cried again, mumbling incoherent words as a plea.

“Up! Let me up!” You cried in the sheets, nuzzling your nose in them.

“Jus’ wait baby— Don’t this feel good?” Oscar grunted, thrusting his cock in and stilled to walk closer to you by his knees, making his presence known. The pressure made your eyes roll back with a short hitch of breath.

“S-so go-good daddy…” You panted as you looked at Pedro, your eyes gloomy and teary eyed.

Pedro’s gut dropped, and not the kind where he felt guilty or bad, it was a raw feeling that he’d do anything and everything to see you cry, whether it was for him or Oscar. Pedro released your shoulders and sat up quickly to grab Oscar’s attention.

“Look look look.” He whispered, pulling your hair away from your soft and drowsy face, “Look at that…”

You sniffled when Oscar peeked at your damp cheeks and heavy eyes, your pants deep and erratic as you blew them into the sheets. He groaned at the sight of you. Your hair messy and untamed with your cheeks pressed to the soft bed as your body slumped in relief when he ceased his thrusts. Oscar quickly pulled out and turned you around, your back thudding on the bed in a bounce as you squealed in surprise.

“God fucking damnit princess.” He said, perching your legs up to your chest as you looked down at his gleaming cock.

Pedro whistled lowly, drawing your attention to your Papa before Oscar plummeted back into you. This time he could see every inch of you perfectly, your pussy fluttering to be filled and the sheer fabric that covered your chest that did little to conceal anything. Pedro could see it too, itching to rip your nighty straight down your chest to fondle with them, pitching and pulling until you come on Oscar’s cock.

Before you could count to three, Daddy’s hands were wiping your tears with a teasing coo, while Papa stretched the fabric of your dress down your chest to make your breasts exposed to them. You gasped and whined at their pulling and pushing, feeling like a bone for two hungry dogs. You cried again while your Daddy’s cock relentlessly pounded into you with need as your Papa twisted and tugged on your peaked nipples.

The fingers, cock and dirty whispers were too much. It was a toe curling burn that crept up your spine and throughout your ligaments; a coil that was about to snap. You couldn’t help but to bend your back into a painful arch and beg loudly for your release.

“P-please!” You moaned, thrusting your hips up to meet Oscar as your body ached for anything. A shove, a touch, a smack. Anything would be perfect to your release. “Daddy please!”

You looked at Oscar as you pleaded, but before he could answer, you turned your head to Pedro, screaming his name without a care of how pathetic your voice sounded.

“What do you need sweetie?” Pedro asked, coming closer to pull your head in his lap while he sat up against the headboard, “Is daddy and papa not giving you everything you want?” Oscar chimed, his warm hand coming to rest on the base of your neck.

“N-no! I-I have to cum! Please let me cum Daddy!” You defended, tilting your head back and forth to beg to your lovers. “Papa!”

Oscar moaned as fresh tears fell down your puffy cheeks, his cock bouncing in the warm walls of your cunt as his bollocks tightened. He was ready to blow his release, but stopped his movements and pulled out, making you whine as you cried harder. He sat back on his heels with a groan, his hand running over your slickened folds and stretched cunt.

“What about Papa? Hmm baby? You gonna give him some love before you cum?” He cooed with a pout, his head tilting as you nodded your head fast.

It was a perfect way to prolong his release, and Pedro knew it too. An all knowing smirk graced Pedro’s lips as he bit his tongue. His cock was impossibly hard in his fleece pants, hanging heavy on his thick thighs, clenching every moment you moaned and mewled.

“You look so pretty on Papa’s cock princess. Go show me and Papa yeah?” Oscar’s words were hypnotic, dripping from his lips like honey as he persuaded you.

He gripped your chin gently, rubbing your rosey bottom lip with his thumb, entranced by the thought of you perfectly seated on Pedro’s cock. You moved your head quickly when Pedro’s hands came down to rub the rounds of your breasts, your cheek laying lazily on his bicep as you looked at his darkened eyes and crazed peppered hair swirled around his beautiful face.

“May I have your cock Papa?” You asked sweetly, jutting your lips as you rose your chest for him to grope you more.

“Ah, using your manners? Such a good little girl I see.” Pedro adored, your eyes watery and wide while your lips pouted, he couldn’t say no. He’d be a fool if he did.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, hooking his arms under yours and lifting you up to sit in his lap. His legs where spread out before your ass landed on his thighs. You wiggled back, cooing and mewling as your Papa fumbled to barely pull his pants down to forcefully place you on his cock. It was a different feeling than Oscar— uncut and thicker, fulfilling and smooth. Pedro’s manhood stretched you further and made you squeal and squirm, him jabbing and demanding at your cervix, unlike Daddy’s who sweetly kisses your endings.

“Show Papa what you can do, let Daddy see it.” Oscar grunted, laying on his elbows as he gripped his cock, letting you and Pedro watch him pleasure himself at the sight of you two.

Pedro was the first to move as you drooled over Oscar’s show, watching intently as his big hands covered his slippery cock. Your breath hitched with Pedro’s fast and deep thrusts, your hips working in speed to match your Papa’s momentum. This had to be one of the favored mornings, your cunt onto his cock while you watched Daddy fumble with his, it made you moan louder with your ass bouncing harder on Pedro. And the man loved every minute of it, watching your eyes gloss as you watched Oscar and your sweet juices coating yourself along with him. It made a lewd squelch, making Pedro pant his moans as he squeezed your waist to keep your bouncing hard and deep.

You were repeatedly being impaled upon Pedro’s cock, it tore you in two so deliciously. There was a burn from him stretching you but it added on to the pleasurable ache between your legs. You were starting to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips starting to stutter. Whines starting leaving your mouth, you didn’t think you could handle it anymore. You were still reeling from Oscar, the way he pushed into your unguarded walls to right now with how tempting he looks. Your body was buzzing as Pedro started taking over.

“Can’t handle it, Peach?” Pedro mocked as he flipped you onto your back, your movements too slow for his liking. He slid back into you and started pounding hard and fast, making you yelp as you covered your mouth. You were scared of the sounds that would come out if you didn’t.

You used your other hand to press it against Pedro’s tummy, trying to get him to let up on his pace.

“Uh uh, baby. You can handle Papa, show me how much of a good girl you can be and take it.” Oscar said as Pedro pushed your hand away.

“No! It’s too big.” You whined, making both Oscar and Pedro laugh at you, though the laughter soon turned into guttural groans as more tears cascaded from your eyes. Both men didn’t think they would be able to last much longer.

From the side view of Oscar to the way Pedro pounded his cock, you could help but mewl and shake as you held your legs up to your chest. The tilt of your hips drove Pedro’s cock deeper as your fingernails created half moons on your soft skin. You clenched and pulsed around you Papa, your eyes becoming blurry with tears while your pretty little head fogged. You couldn’t hold your delayed release even if you wanted to, it came quick and hard, making your mouth drop open in a silent squeal. Your tongue jutted out slightly as your eyes crossed.

“Ooh yeah baby— Fuck! Su-ch a good girl!” Pedro gasped, smirking with an open mouth as he imprinted your fucked face in his memories.

Oscar released his hand from his own cock like it had burnt him, panting as his member flexed for more. The sight was beautiful; your curvy body bent deliciously, your face flushed as you looked at the beds canopy with your mouth wide. The veins in your neck protruding out, blood pumping quickly before you finally spoke out.

“Fuck!” You squealed brokenly, the tears finally falling down your sweet cheeks. “More more more!”

Your mumbled words were your lovers dream, a blissed demand that any man would oblige. Pedro groaned loudly, shifting his hips deeper into your milking walls as they enchanted him to stay put. Oscar watched with awe as he quickly moved to you, his knees quaking as he did. He placed his cock head close to your mouth and you didn’t think twice as you opened your mouth quickly to trap his head in your warm awaiting mouth.

“Is this what you want sweetheart? Huh?” Oscar asked, Daddy shuttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiled wide like a cat that got the cream, “Both of your pretty holes filled?”

“Look so pretty baby…” Pedro mumbled with a curt grunt, pulling and pushing slowly to keep himself from blowing his warm seed into your inviting canal.

You rose your neck, letting Daddy slide easily in your throat. Small mewls and moans were gurgled around him as your eyelids hooded over your blown out pupils, attempting to smile lazily around him. Oscar fucked your face, slow and agonizing at the first few thrusts, then became erratic and aggressive like he was claiming every inch of your mouth. The sight persuaded Pedro to move, captured by yours and Oscar’s grunts and muffled moans. The feeling of Pedro invading your warm walls and Oscar nudging the back of your throat had you close to a second orgasm.

Pedro could tell you were close by the way you were starting to close your thighs, a clear sign that you wanted more but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Do you want another, peach? Is that what you’re asking for?” Pedro asked. He enunciated every word with a thrust, making you squeal.

“Ask nicely, you’re so good at using your manners peachy girl.” Oscar said, forcing himself deeper into your warm throat.

You loved hearing his grunts, sending your nerves closer and closer to another release, as did Pedro’s unrelenting pace. The pad of Pedro’s thumb found your swollen and puffed clit, the texture of his thumb made you jerk at the sudden contact. He started rubbing in a circular motion, the build up didn’t take long; stars bursting behind your eyes as your back arched off the bed. Oscar came with an erratic thrust of his hips just as Pedro did, filling your greedy holes with bliss.

You eagerly gulped down all that your Daddy had to offer with weak whimpers as your cunt filled to the brim with your Papa’s hot cum. You willingly and joyfully took every drop your lovers gave, filling you up sweetly and beautifully while you panted and moaned.

The moment Oscar released his grip from your tangled hair, you gasped loudly, your heart pounding in astonishment of the lewdness you succumbed to. You didn’t regret a minute of the rough and passionate fucking, you loved every single thing about and secretly hoped for more. But the flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of Oscar told you that the silver haired fox was done for the moment.

You panted with a soft smile as Oscar slumped back on his heels while Pedro’s soft hands caressed your soft tummy, pushing gently to watch his release seep out of your puffed folds. He groaned again, rough and loud, his cheeks puffing in a long exhale while his eyes locked on his cock leaving your body as well as his seed.

It was a dream come true before your friend the sun rose with its bright rays of life, warming the cold ground and awakening the winter birds. But little did the sun know, you danced with the full moon in the most luxurious way.

Taglist will be added in a reblog!!!

[singingcroissants]

Patch Me Up

Hello, I’m back friends!! Things have been so busy lately, but I couldn’t stay away for too long! Of course I wrote this at 11 pm instead of translating Homer like I was supposed to be lmao. This is probably terrible but I figured I’d post it bc why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

Warnings: language, blood/injury, cheesy a$$ fluff

Note: This fic is aged up, as always!

Eyes heavy and muscles aching, you turn your key in the door.

The routine after a big fight was always the same: kick your shoes off, fumble through your dark apartment, and try not to think about whatever shitshow you just survived. But tonight, your side stung a little too much, and the blood seeping through your white t-shirt sent a shiver down your spine. Once you locked your door, you shuffled over to the bathroom sink to take inventory of your wounds. Lifting your shirt with a wince, your suspicions were confirmed. It was a shallow cut, you wouldn’t need stitches...but it was a pretty long gash, and it was definitely aggravated from rubbing against your shirt. In addition to the knife wound, you had a large bruise on your cheek, and your arms were peppered with little bruises from where the attacker grabbed you. Suddenly you froze, bile rising in your throat at the reminder of his pockmarked face and sadistic grin. Refusing to linger on the memory for too long, you splashed some water on your face, but grimaced when the action sent a searing pain into the laceration across your rib. Your vision turned white for a moment as you swayed, briefly losing your balance. Leaning your back against the bathroom wall for stability, you slid down to sit on the cold linoleum floor, head back, as you rubbed your knees in an effort to busy your shaking hands. Suddenly aware of hushed breathing coming from the doorway, you looked up, startled. To your surprise, Five Hargreeves stood in the doorway, watching you coolly. You two had a complicated relationship, constantly competing to be savior of the city. Over the 5 years you had known each other, you had never seen him smile; he was all business, all the time. What he was doing in your house on a Tuesday night, however, you couldn’t say. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt his eyes on you.

“What happened?” He asks after a pause.

“On my way home from work I saw the Baxter Street gang following a young woman down 5th avenue, and I tried to take them on my own.” You hesitated, your pride wounded. “...It didn’t go so well.”

Five rolled his eyes, and muttered, “Yeah, I can see that.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as his gaze slid over you. You watched him back intensely, surprised to catch a momentary glimpse of alarm in his eyes as he took in your bloody shirt and bruised cheek.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

Confused but too tired to argue, you began to rise to your feet, but not without muttering an indignant “What are you even doing here?”

To your embarrassment, the moment you stepped away from the wall you faltered, and he blinked across the room to catch you before you hit the ground. With his left hand resting on your back, and his right gripping your hip beneath your shirt, he guided you to an upright position wordlessly.

Through your haze of pain, you noted deliriously that he was making a suspiciously low number of snide remarks about your current position.

He lifted you up effortlessly and sat you on the countertop.

“Can I take this off?” he motioned to your shirt. Trying very hard to ignore the blush spreading to his ears, you whispered a faint, “Yes.”

The electricity skyrocketed when your eyes met, the tension of the moment visible in the slope of your shoulders, and Five’s bobbing adam's apple.

In a swift motion, he lifted the shirt up and stoically began cleaning your wound. You searched for any sign of concern in his face, but he showed none. Silently he worked, your heavy breathing and the buzzing electric lights the only sounds in the bathroom. Once he had disinfected the gash and carefully wrapped bandages around your waist, he quickly straightened and removed his sweater. Clearing his throat, he looked away and said casually, “Put this on.”

However grateful you were for his first aid skills, you began to grow shy at Five’s unceremonious kindness towards you. Fidgeting with the hem of your bloodstained shirt, you stubbornly said, “Oh thanks, but I’m actually perfectly comfortable in this. It’s actually designer-”

“Put it on,” he interrupted, his tone rising. A voice crack betrayed his attempt at austerity as he reigned himself in once more: “I’m not going to ask again.”

He left you staring, sweater in hand, as he turned to face away from you.

“Fine, fine... Thank you,” you conceded. You slipped off your soiled shirt with a wince, and put on Five’s sweater. It was soft -really soft- and smelled like leather and pine. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Echoing off the wall came a muffled and surprisingly gentle “You’re welcome.”

“You can turn around now, Robin Hood,” you called, in a half-hearted attempt at sarcasm. You had hoped that in using your usual nickname for him it would ease the tension in the room, but it did the opposite if anything. But maybe, you thought to yourself, the tension wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

The two of you made your way to the couch in your living room, and within minutes Five had helped himself to your kitchen and returned with steaming mugs of tea.

Now you sat, side by side, staring into the swirling vapor rising from your cups.

Five broke the awkward silence: “You shouldn’t have tried to take on that gang by yourself, especially when you’re not prepared. That stab wound was worse than it looked, y/n. You could have been seriously hurt.” He hesitated,” Or worse.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do, Five?” you responded, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not my partner, you’re my competition. And what do you care, anyway? If I died, you’d have everything you ever wanted! They’d hand you the fucking key to the city!” Your emotions overtook you, exhaustion having decimated any boundaries you might have clung to otherwise. “So why the hell are you on my couch, and why am I wearing your sweater, and why does it smell so good?”

Shit.

To your surprise, Five Hargreeves laughed. He sat in front of you, mug of peppermint tea in hand, laughing. Miracles do happen, you joked to yourself, awestruck.

His laughter slowed, and your face burned bright red in the soft glow of your table lamp.

“Do you really not know why I’m here?” he asked in a low voice, suddenly more serious.

You shivered.

Closing the distance of the couch, he reached out and caressed the bruise on your cheek after a brief moment of hesitation. The uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes made yours shimmer with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. It had been a long time since anyone looked at you like that.

“I’m here because not only would I care if you fell into harm’s way, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It’s impossible not to notice you when we’re both out there, trying to keep everyone safe. You’re brave, and strong, and kind. To be honest, you’re the reason I keep fighting for this city, your selfless desire to protect and care for others...I just never knew how to tell you. It didn’t seem right. But when I heard you had gotten hurt, I imagined the worst, and I just... well, I just had to tell you.”

Your heart swelled, and suddenly he was kissing your lips, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek. One hand rested on your thigh, and his other was combing through your hair. The moment was tender and new and so very fragile, the opposite of everything you had known about Five Hargreeves. He shifted his position and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the bruise on your cheek. You leaned into him, finally allowing yourself to give in to your fatigue from the evening’s events. Five quietly took you into his arms and began rubbing your back, calming you even further.

Normally physical touch made you shrink up, but somehow the man beside you was learning how to break down your barriers at lightning speed. Perhaps you had been closer to each other than you realized for quite some time.

In all the excitement, you felt your eyelids begin to flutter closed as you fought to stay awake.

“Darling,” Five whispered, “You can fall asleep, it’s okay. Let’s just rest.”

That was all that you needed to hear. You drifted off in his arms, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath you. The stinging in your side drifted to a dull ache, and your tight muscles began to slowly unwind themselves as you slept. And it felt good.

Now that you know what it’s like to be taken care of by someone, you don’t think you can ever go back to your old “post-fight” routine.

Five knows you won’t have to.

[morgana-ren]

45 and 60 for the shiggy ask list?

Nice. Fuckin' nice. Warnings for, of course: Masturbation, spanking, noncon, dubcon, implied nastiness, him being a fuckin’ degenerate, slut-shaming, and general incel-ish behavior.

Wet dreams are an obnoxious, awkward sort of burden to carry no matter how many hands you have. 

He’s perfectly content with a dreamless sleep, and he’s since long come to terms with the nightmares that plague his subconscious on the off nights. Shiftless, empty voids mired by shrill screams from a voice he can’t recognize; Visceral, grainy-red misery he can’t wade through, slogging endlessly onward toward nothing. Eternal, burdensome fog that sits thick in the air of his unconscious until he wakes. It was bothersome as a child, but it brings a strange comfort now. Like a heavy, weighted blanket that keeps him anchored to his goal.

Wet dreams on the other hand? Those bring nothing but problems. 

It sits awkwardly on his mind as his eyes flicker open, greeted with a dark ceiling and an even darker room, only the light of his monitor casting shadows around the walls. There’s a cramped pain in his crotch that shakes his mind back into consciousness, head of his cock pressing painfully against the jagged teeth of his zipper. A quick, half-awake glance at the clock reads the early morning hours- Too early. He’d retired prematurely the night before, thanks to unforeseen circumstances.

Whatever it was he was dreaming about, it slips quickly through his fingers as his brain ignites once more, but he has an inkling as to the culprit. 

Most times, he’d welcome an unsuspecting girl leaning so far over the tap that he gets a nice, long, free peek at the goods, but not when it’s you. He works with you, and that’s a line he’s not eager to cross. That complicates things, and as he counts it, life is complicated enough as it stands. Start lusting after your underlings and you’re inviting a litany of problems, and he doesn’t need any more of those. 

But he’s a man; A man with neglected needs, and you’re foolish enough rest your chest against the counter of his bar with your elbows pushing your tits together into nice, thick, creamy globes- right in front of him, no less- only inches from his nose and it takes every ounce of discipline in his degenerate mind to keep him from burying his face right between them.

It was easy to ignore for one, two, maybe three minutes, but that’s when things got a little rough. 

After that point, he wasn’t responsible for where his mind went, and that’s the precise moment when he realized he might’ve had a little too much to drink to be in this position.

He’d kicked off the stool and stalked off without another word to anyone, resolving to confine himself to the murky solitude of his room until his mind opted to behave. Punishing himself like a naughty dog caught drooling over someone else’s fat, juicy steak.  By the time he’d shut his door, his erection was already painful, throbbing and straining against his thigh, but he refused to reward this kind of behavior from his brain. 

‘She’s a teammate, dammit. Knock it off.’

As if scolding his libido has ever worked. 

He goes to bed without satisfying himself, but can’t help humping into his mattress as his drifting mind wanders further and further from control and further still from alert consciousness. Without his iron will there to curb his impulses, he was lulled into his lustful dreamsphere, mind swimming with visions of you; Less dressed, infinitely more slutty versions of you with knees rubbed raw, kiss-swollen lips and wrists shackled to his bed- not that there’s anywhere you’d rather be, that sly little voice tells him.  He doesn’t recall the specifics, but apparently his cock does. Skin pulled taught over his aching prick, tip flushed a furious shade of red, leaking viscous, pearlescent fluid that wets through the fibers of his jeans. It thrums, pulsing with each beat of his heart behind his ribs, demanding his attention. 

“Fuck- quickly then.” He seethes, more annoyed than aroused, loathing the thought of being jerked around by his own body. Yet he knows himself well enough to understand that if he doesn’t quell the urge, it will linger on in his mind until he deals with it, so it’s better to bite the bullet and swallow his pride lest it gluttonously feed into itself like a lustful ouroboros and become a problem. 

Fingers shove beneath the waistband of his jeans, the others hastily unbuttoning the silver teardrop link just beneath his navel. Fishing his cock out is the easy part; it’s everything that comes afterward that’s troublesome. 

He thinks of his basics. Of lewd hentai and girlish squeals, of wide, plush thighs and coy smiles. Sensual fingers beckoning him, throaty voices begging him to do as he will with their pliant bodies. Open mouths and pretty, ivory teeth, tremoring bodies and sweat and- He fucks them. He fucks them- no, he fucks his fist. He fucks his fist and fucks their gooey insides, fucks his fist and- it’s just not enough. He imagines their drooling mouths taking his cock, cooing praises- The climax builds, tension building to a terrible, tensing peak and then falling back down again into frustration. Teeth gritting in anger, muscles prickling and tightening in his forearm. 

It’s not doing it. He can’t cum. He gets close and it peters out back down into nothing but a slight twitch and low drawls of pleasure. No matter how he strokes, how tightly his fingers grip his shaft, he can’t make himself cum.

Fingers furled around his cock, he tries for longer than he really cares to admit. Hips stuttering up to meet his hand, broken gasps rapidly twisting into drawn out grunts of irritation. Boredom rapidly replacing any sense of incentive to continue touching himself. Offhanded strokes and daydreaming lead him no where.

He can’t cum. 

Until he thinks of your tits bulging through your shirt against his counter, your pretty smile as you flaunt it all in front of him. What you might look like pushing your slutty little body against him, mewling and begging for him to touch you because only his fat cock can satisfy you and you’ll do anything to have it. 

A throb against his palm. Pleasure veining through his body as he rolls his hips against his moist grip. Enough to draw a groan. 

She’s a teammate. Control yourself... 

After this. 

He thinks of your bouncing tits, bare and glistening, puckering underneath his touch as he rolls and twists a nipple between his fingers. Wide, bleary eyes and deceptive little kitten licks on the tip of his cock until he shoves you down and your silken throat strangles him to completion- his copious cum splashing across your open mouth, your fluttering eyelashes, marking you with his seed across your eager face. Nails digging into your waist, maneuvering you over the counter and kicking your legs apart, burying himself in your clenched cunt as you drool like a fucked out whore, begging your boss to stretch you wide. Wiggling your bare ass against him, teeth and bruises imbedding into your skin, crying for him to fuck you open as his cum still tacks across your cheeks like the nasty little slut you are-

He’s so close, close enough he can feel the heat in the crevasses of his fingers, but the knock on his door jars him, sending him careening back into reality even as his dick pulses in his hand. Muscles tense, frozen like a deer in headlights. His mind still drowned in desire, the end so close he can taste it. 

No response. Another knock. This one harder. 

The bar wasn’t built for privacy in mind, and his room is held together with plywood and ill-fitting hinges. Most people are smart enough to leave him alone and not touch his door in general, but not you, huh? Your second hollow knock budges the latch and the door creaks open in one fatal moment. 

He’s met with your shocked face and widened eyes, both glowing eerily pallid in the light of his computer monitor. Your attention focuses, first on his face, shifting to his swollen cock clutched between his slender fingers, and after another moment, back to his face. 

“Shigaraki-” is all you can manage, weak and pathetic, hands raising in defense to shield your vision and hide the painful embarrassment written plainly across your face. “-Sorry- Sorry- Fuck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-” Red handed is one word for it, but so is opportunistic.

“Get in here and shut the door.”

You don’t think twice about your boss’s command, following his orders without question out of impulse despite the awkwardness. Word vomit spills from your lips, trying to justify and separate yourself from the situation in the same breath. 

“I’m sorry- sorry! You seemed mad when you left and I didn’t want to leave it- I thought you were mad at me- I didn’t want-” “To disappoint me?” 

“Y-yeah- I thought-” Your eyes drift toward the ceiling, trying to keep away from the proverbial elephant in the room- the pale cock cradled in his hand. “I’m sorry! I just thought-” 

“What did you think?” 

“I thought I said something that made you mad or something! You kept looking at me like-” Your voice cracks, perhaps in recognition, but you ignore that too. “Like you were disgusted-” 

His control shatters with the vulnerability on your face, lust tidalwaves over reason, burying any semblance of order he had beneath a landfill of repression. All he wants now is to see you the way he does in his head: Begging and crying and screaming his name. 

This will have consequences, but he doesn’t really fucking care right now. 

He lurches forward, four fingers swirling in the fabric of your shirt as he jerks you forward. “I was disgusted.” You fall across him with a startled shriek, awkwardly splayed across his legs and the upper portion of his bed. He’s quick to readjust you, dragging you back into his lap with his naked, palpitating cock pressed flush against your chest separated only by a thin layer of fabric. One hand threads through your hair, stroking your scalp with his nails before clutching down. “Flashing your slutty tits in my face all night.” Trying to scrounge away from him is fruitless, clawing at his bare mattress with your nails and trying to kick your way out of his grip, but he puts a quick stop to it. A few harsh tugs on your hair and you settle down like a good girl, whimpering and shaking in a way arouses him more than he thought possible at the moment.  “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to-”  “I didn’t mean to-” He mocks, raising his voice in a cruel mimicry of yours. “Shut the hell up. You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re writing checks you can’t cash, and someone needs to teach you a lesson.”  His hand catches on the back of your thigh, slowly snaking upward until- to your utter mortification- he pushes the hem of your skirt up to your waist, jiggling at the fat of your ass with his palm. Your miserable bleating does little to deter him from fingering at the strap of your thong, admiring the lace before pulling the band back with the crook of his finger and letting the elastic snap against your skin.

“Tomura!-”  “Be quiet. You can speak when I tell you that you can speak. In fact-” He pulls your underwear down to your taut thighs with a harsh yank. “-you’re going to count it out for me, and when I’m done, you’re going to thank me, aren’t you?” 

The little fire of defiance dies in your belly is swiftly snuffed out when, through the corner of your eye, you catch him leering at your exposed ass, face dusted a ruddy pink and pupils dilated in a way that leaves him looking more monster than man. 

“You’re going to count it for me, yeah? Understand?”  “Count out what?” 

You stammer and trip over your words, wide eyes bleary, and God he loves it when you play dumb. You’re sharp as a tack and swift as a whip, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that you know exactly where this is going, but you’ll play the bimbo because you’re holding out hope that taking advantage of you is too far, that even villains have a sense of comradery and he’s your boss and has a sense of shame.  All incorrect assumptions. 

He brings his hand up, only to immediately plumb it back down again on the curve of your ass with the resounding smack of flesh on flesh. The skin ripples as he makes contact, and you yowl something fierce as the pain blooms through your bottom- half startled, half humiliated.  “One-” The fingers looped through your hair clench and remind you of what exactly that he expects, words hanging thick as he expects acquiescence and your full participation. He’s not known for his patience.  “O-one.” 

“Good girl.” 

His hand raises again and your eyes clench shut in anticipation of the blow. It doesn’t help.  “Two.” 

“Two-!“

Three- four- five- His hand lands firmly on your backside, each one forcing you to lurch forward. It’s degrading and sick, stomach twisting against his thighs as you desperately try to keep your breathing even despite your constricted belly. You don’t dare to attack him back- you’ve seen what he does to people who piss him off. You didn’t think he was capable of this kind of treatment- not to his friends and allies- but apparently he’s full of malevolent surprises and you’re learning that the hard way.

Six- Seven- Eight- Eyes begin tearing up around the seventh smack, trying to worm away from him only to be firmly held in place. It only stung at first, but repeated abuse to the same area has left it sore and tender because his spanks are far too rough to be playful. Strangled croaks of the numbers he expects from you turn into urgent cries, sobbing openly into his lap as he occasionally rolls his erection against your knee-squished tits.

“Nine.” 

“N-n-nine-” You are sniveling like a baby by this point. It hurts, it hurts, and you want- no- need him to stop. You’re not sure if it’s the utter humiliation or the localized and repeated pain, but nausea is curling something fierce in your gut, tickling at your esophagus with every thwack of his palm against you.

“Ten.”

There’s no sweet little precursor this time. His hand comes down with unprecedented force- too much- hitting the exact same spot for the tenth time but with enough cruelty behind it to break what little dignity you’d had left. You wail openly at the pain, blubbering and pleading for him to stop, please, you can’t take it anymore, you can’t-

He shushes you, deceptively tender as he rubs his fingers across the marred skin, early onset bruises blooming in the abstract shape of his hand. It pleases him to see it, knows it’ll please him even more every time he watches you struggle to sit because you’ve got your leader’s handprint practically engraved on the fat of your ass for the foreseeable future.

“You did well.” Untangling his fingers from your matted hair, he pats at your head in a condescending matter, soothing you in a way that isn’t entirely genuine. That becomes painfully obvious when he grabs your tear-soaked chin and arches your face to meet his in an unnatural angle, displeasure evident across his face.

“Except you forgot ten.”

You expect him to hit you again, but he doesn’t. The hand patting at your marred skin slinks down between your thighs, teasing between your folds and circling your entrance. The hiccups and bubbling sobs cease long enough for you to squeak at his invasive probing, wiggling your hips as he slips a finger inside your damp heat. He oscillates it, first to the knuckle, but then down as far as he can, pumping in and out of you a few times before adding a second finger to the mix. 

This shouldn’t feel good. The searing tingle and clenching between your thighs is entirely unwelcome as his wandering fingers curl upward towards you bellybutton and pad at the spongy, raised flesh nestled deep in your cunt. The juxtaposition of the hideous ache from where he’d spanked you ruthlessly and the pleasure that crests as he finger-fucks you is almost too much, bordering on maddening stimulation as he adds this thumb to the mix, drawing teasing circles around the little bud.

“A-ahha-Tom-Tomura!” 

“What is it, slut? Use your words-” He drums his fingers into you harder, pressing the tip of his thumb down harder on your clit as he swirls it counter-clockwise. “Are you getting wet for me? Starting to enjoy this now that your punishment is over?” 

After a few more moments, he drawls out his fingers, putting emphasis on the obscene squelching. He withdraws his hand eventually, inspecting the gossamer slick that webs his fingers, scissoring it back and forth before dropping them in front of your face. 

“That’s all you, you needy little whore. All your whinging and crying but your sloppy cunt is aching for me, isn’t it?” 

Wiping your wetness on the purpling bruises, he promptly pushes you off of his lap and lets your body roll onto the floor, standing to loom above you with his cock bobbing just above the waist of his bunched jeans. In one swift movement, he’s got you by the hair again, pulling you up onto your knees just in front of him.

Your whimpering garners no sympathy from him, thighs worming and quim still clenching even as you fear for what’s about to happen. He’s already pushed past the limit- what’s done is done. You were a good ally, but you’re a better whore. Who’s to say you can’t be both? 

He’s allowed to have his cake and feast on it too.

“I’ll give you what you want, but you’re going to earn it first.” Jerking your head back by your sore, throbbing scalp, he taps his leaking erection on the swell of your lower lip, smearing his pre-cum across your mouth. “After you’ve earned it, that is. Now show me that you’re thankful.” 

[writingsbychlo]

pleasure and pain | void!stiles

word count; 6880

summary; void has a soft spot for you, and you just want to look after him, and keep him healthy, a little compromise benefits you both.

notes; weirdly soft void smut, but still totally in character. 

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, very light pain play.

The cold air of the morning was what woke you, the cool breeze from the open window, your skin covered in a layer of goosebumps from the sheets that had fallen away, and now you wished you’d worn more to bed than a large t-shirt and some cotton panties. With a groan, you rolled over, stretching your arms above your head, groaning a little as you let your almost closed eyes adjust to the morning light, before opening them fully.

You screamed slightly, jumping in your bed as you caught sight of the pale figure standing at the end of your bed, his hands clasped behind his back lightly as dark eyes peered out at you from behind sunken and purple-ringed eyes. He held the stare on you, walking around the side of the bed toward you and chuckling darkly as your hand reached out, a fistful of his shirt being used against him as you tugged him down toward you.

“So, you’re the reason it’s so cold in here.” You mumbled, yawning through your words before fluffing your pillows and sitting them up a little, and he uncurled each of your fingers from his shirt before slinking across the room, sliding the window shut and closing the curtains again to dim the morning sunlight a little.

“Guilty as charged.” He toed off his shoes, knees hitting the edge of the bed as he crawled over the covers slowly, settling beside you and huffing as you tucked the blankets around him carefully, your head landing on his chest, his heart beating slowly against your cheek. “You know I don’t do romantic things like cuddle, dove.”

Despite his words, his arms wrapped around you delicately and you hummed in rebellion of his words, snuggling down further into his chest as your eyes fluttered shut again, a small yawn pulling on your lips.

“You don’t do ‘romantic’ things? So, you weren’t just watching me sleep, then?”

He grumbled under his breath, the word ‘touché’ spilling from his lips as he pinched at your arm, a small ‘ow’ falling from you as you squirmed in his grasp, flicking at his chest in retaliation. “If you don’t cuddle, though, I guess I could just-” You made to roll away from him, a low growl sounding out as he halted your movements, his arms tightening around you, not loosening, even when you settled back against him. “Why are you here, then?”

He sighed, fingers running along your skin in delicate patterns as you drifted lightly between being asleep and being awake, simply letting the dark-souled man hold you. “I’m not too sure, dove. Perhaps I was just lonely, but I wanted to be with you.”

You simply hummed, tucking your nose into his neck and taking in the fresh scent of soap that was still lingering on his cold skin, his body barely warming up from the covers that surrounded you both, your body shivering as the air in the room continued to linger at a cool temperature, and all the warmth you’d accumulated during the night seemed to slip away.

Taking his hand, you pushed yourself up a little to balance on your elbow, you offered him your hand, shrugging your free shoulder and offering him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“You haven’t fed for a while, so help yourself.”

He accepted your offering, placing your hand over his cheek, but you felt no sting, and the black veins never crawled over his face as he continued to stare at you, his eyes searching yours and his frown only deepened. “I don’t need to feed yet, and I know what it does to you.” His fingers absentmindedly trailed down to rub over the scar on your hip, the gash that had been bleeding so badly when he’d met you, causing you so much pain that he’d sniffed you out from miles away and found you.

Turning his head, he placed a kiss to the palm of your hand, your fingers twitching against his cheek and you withdrew it from touching him, choosing to sit up instead and swing a leg over his lap. A smirk tugged on his features, twisting his lips darkly as he adjusted himself to sit among the pillows, large hands closing over your hips in a tight grip, and you shivered when they slipped under your shirt to sit on your waist without the material barrier, his cool skin contrasting your warm flesh.

You lifted a cautious hand, closing your palms over his jaw and running your fingers under his eyes carefully, his gaze locked on you as your features scanned over his face.

“You have rings under your eyes again, and you’re getting colder.” The cheeky look in his dark eyes flickered for a second, a slight warmth to the dark whisky seeping in, the shades you only ever saw when the sunlight happened to catch him, before they were darkening once again as he dragged his hands around to your front and over your shirt, brushing his thumbs across your nipples as he cupped your tits, a toothy smirk on his face as he did.

“I must be cold. Look at how perky your nipples are for me, kitten.” Leaning in, he fanned hot breath over your neck, placing a kiss to your neck before dipping his head and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, your back arching at the warm feeling as he lapped at your breast through your shirt. One of his arms snaked around your waist to pull you to him tightly as the other moved up to grope at the other, pinching and tugging on the taut bud as you cried out in his grasp.

Your head was tipped back, broken moans of his name falling from your lips as your hips shook, rolling down into his lap loosely, and your mind hazed over as you tried to remember what you had been talking about. A single thought managed to break through the fog, and you gasped, a hand tightening into a fist in the man’s hair as you tugged his head back, a predatory grunt sounding out as his eyes flashed up to look at you in a dark stare. You panted, regaining your breath and shaking your head a little as the wet circle over one tit brushed your skin arousingly. “I-I’m serious. You need to feed, I can see it on you. Just feed from me.”

He growled, shaking his head at you and licking at his lips, his eyes hardening as he glared at you, lips twisted into a snarl as his jaw tightened, and you simply ran a finger along his sharp jaw, feeling it twitch under your touch as he tried to hold his defence. “You can’t scare me with your evil little murder look. You don’t want to hurt me.”

“You can’t prove that. It’s my nature to kill, I could murder you in an instant. You know it.” He spoke with a low and threatening voice, his brows furrowed and your own raised up in surprise, prying one of his hands from your hips as you lifted it up to your throat, challenging him lightly. His fingers flexed on your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure, before loosening to simply sit on your skin.

“So, do it.”

His hand once again tightened on your neck, minutely as he glared at you, the hand on your waist tightening and his lips formed a thin line, before he let out a deep and ragged sigh, shooting you a glare. “Fuck!” He moved quickly, flipping you over with such speed that your mind spun as your head landed in the pillows, a squeak sounding from you as he attached his lips to your neck, dragging the hand that had lay there down to sit on your thigh.

Hitching your leg up onto his waist, he settled snugly between your thighs, rolling his hips down into your covered core and smirking as you moaned out at his actions. Burying his face in your neck, he nipped and sucking lightly at your skin, littering wet and red trails along your flesh as you whimpered in his hold. “You’re warming up a bit.” Your hands slid around to his back, slipping under his shirt and pulling it up a little as the muscles in his arms flexed from where he was supporting himself above you, your fingers slipping around to play with the hairs between the defined pecs of his chest. “You’re not as cold to the touch as you were when you arrived.”

“Because I’m proud of the noises I can get you to make.” He teased, and you moaned loudly, as if on queue, the second he bit down at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, lapping at the spot with his tongue to soothe it. “You know how important a nogitsune’s pride is, my dear. I know you did your research on me when we first met.”

“I also know, you need to feed. Specifically, on my pain and chaos, and that you’re trying to distract me!” You gasped, and he pulled away from where he was working his way down your skin, his movements stilling as his head lifted, stern gaze meeting yours as his teasing smile dropped back down into a scowl.

With rapid movements, he was tugging on your shirt, and you lifted your arms above your head, letting him peel the garment from you and toss it away as he left hot kisses along your stomach, trailing over the supple and soft flesh to cover it, before he raised back up to catch your lips with his.

A slightly warmer palm found your cheek, thumb running over your skin softly as your lips worked together in slow movements, and he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as he grunted.

“Why won’t you just let this go? I’m not going to hurt you, just to feed off of it.” You paused, jaw dropping as your brows arched, a gasp sounding on you at the accidental sting you got when he adjusted himself above you, his palm catching on your hair and tugging sharply. The action resulted in your mind lighting up with an idea, your eyes sparkling at you grinned up at him, rubbing the patch where he had unintentionally tugged so roughly on your hair.

“Give me a little pain with my pleasure, then.”

He glanced at you, squinting as he tried to work out what you were saying, his lips parted but no words came out, and your legs locked on either side of his hips, using all your power to roll the two of you over and he grunted in discontent at the action. Taking his hands, your fingers wrapped loosely around his wrists as you pinned them to the bed and his look spoke volumes, questioning you as to whether you really thought that was a good idea. Only seconds later, he was ripping his hands out from under yours, attempting to lift one to tuck your hair back behind your ear as you tried to grab at him once again, and he smacked your hands away from his.

Taking his hand, you guided it down to your ass, nodding as you leaned over him, breasts pushed up against his chest as your ass stuck out for him, fingers squeezing and dipping under the lace of your panties. “Do that again, but harder.”

He repeated the slap, a small sound making itself known and you shook your head, rolling back into his hand.

“Harder.”

He did, his eyebrows raised as a moan slipped past your lips, your skin stinging as he did and you bit down on your lip, your nose brushing his as you dragged your lips together so lightly he barely felt it.

“Harder.”

Pain blossomed over your ass as the loud cracking of his palm on your ass sounded out, a cry falling from you and you leaned back into his hand, shaking as you whimpered above him and licked at your lips. “Now try feeding.”

He hesitated for a split second, before you felt the slight pin-prick of him taking your pain from you, his eyes lips parting as a delicious gasp sounded from him. He repeated the action, your hips rolling into his as he fed on the pain and you could feel yourself soaking through your panties already. “Does that work? Does it help?”

“The pain you have when I make you moan is the sweetest fucking thing I have ever tasted, little dove. You taste fucking exquisite, it’s practically addictive.” His voice was gravelly and choked, his hips bucking up into yours and you leaned in, nibbling on his bottom lip carefully before he tore it from his grasp, once again pinning you under him as he took back his control.

He was nipping and sucking on your neck, nails digging into your hips as you squirmed and writhed under him, tiny pains appearing all over your body in split-second bursts before disappearing and being replaced with warm pleasure as he took your pain and fed on it. His filthy groans were muffled as he licked and marked your skin, sucking on your nipples before lowering himself lower and lower, until his tongue was trailing along the waistband of your panties, his teeth hooking into the elastic.

“Fuck me hard, and rough, and hurt me just enough to enjoy it. Then you can feed on it.” You whispered, and he moaned, dragging your underwear away with his teeth until he could spit them out onto your floor. Parting your legs with large hands on your knees, he bit his way along your shaking thighs, his lips pressing to each bite as he kissed the pain away, before finally reaching your sodden core, arousal dripping from you and out onto the sheets, your hips jolting upwards as he blew a stream of cold air onto your throbbing clit.

You whined out, your fingers tightening in the bedsheets and he cooed darkly at you, taking pity as he leaned in to swipe his tongue from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit, lips sealing around it as he sucked harshly and your back arched up off of the bed. With one large hand, he spread his fingers out over your hips and pushed you back down into the mattress, feeling you squirm under his hold as he kept up his relentless ministrations on your core.

Lapping at every drop you had to give, his tongue circled around your entrance, dipping inside you just barely and retracting as he left you clenching around nothing, the teasing driving you insane as tears lined your eyes, and you let out a frustrated cry, and Void merely chuckled against your core.

“Please stop teasing me?”

“Hm, alright. Since you asked so nicely, my little dove.” He nipped one final time at your clit, before plunging his tongue deep into you, your eyes rolling back as you let out something between a moan and a sigh, your head pushing back into the pillows as your hands found his messy hair. Weaving your fingers into his hair, you tugged sharply on the roots, and he grunted as you did, flashing his eyes up to glare at you for your actions and he slipped his free hand up to press down on your clit with force.

He rubbed the digit in rapid circles, lapping at your core before sliding his fingers down to plunge to into you, stretching you out with a delicious burn and scissoring them widely, gaping your hole open for him as you gasped and writhed, pinpricks of pain shooting along your core and you propped yourself up on shaky elbows to peer down at him as he ate you like a final meal, warmth flooding you as he began to take every bit of pain you may feel.

The fire curling up from your cire was travelling along your body, your nerves buzzing with the feeling of pure bliss as you found yourself hurtling closer and closer to the edge. The moment he crooked his fingers, the pads of them brushing against that special spot within you, before scraping his nails against your walls gently, you snapped. His name fell from your lips on a loud plea, your shoulders shaking as you practically sobbed at the feeling and his pace never let up. He finger-fucked you through your orgasm, black veins curling up along his cheeks and he winked at you from his position between your thighs as he caught you watching.

Your legs calmed around his head, shouts falling from your lips each time a wave of overstimulation crashed over you, his tongue soothing you as he lapped up every drop, until you were quivering and pushing his head away from you. The second he moved, your legs snapped shut with a relieved sigh, and he grinned down at you, wiping a hand across the back of his mouth before peeling his shirt up and over his head.

Popping the button on his jeans, he dropped them too, his boxers following and his stiff cock bounced up, twitching in the cool air of the room. Red and angry, precum was dribbling from his head and your mouth went dry at the sight. Kicking the rest of his clothing away from himself, his hands found your hips, fingers tugging on the material of your shirt to lift it up over your head, his lips catching yours in a softer kiss than you had expected, before he was pulling away, tossing the garment to the floor.

With a cheeky smirk, he flipped you over, your stomach flat on the mattress, cheek pressed to the sheets as he dipped his fingers back down between your legs, nudging them against your swollen clit and chuckling when you jerked away from him with a cry. “You’re always so sensitive and responsive to my touch. It’s truly a sight to see.”

“Only for you.” You mumbled, words muffled by the bedsheets and you gasped as a hand came down in a harsh slap over your ass, palm soon rubbing the pain away as he took it, and he repeated the action, quiet sounds of need falling from you each time.

“It better only be for me. Nobody else can fuck you like I can, nobody else can please you like I can. You’re all mine, little dove. Nobody else gets to touch you or be near you. You’re all mine, understood?” You nodded, pushing yourself up on weak arms and wiggling your ass in his direction, flipping your hair away to look at him over your shoulder, your bright eyes connecting with his dark ones in a powerful stare.

“I don’t want anyone else, anyway. I only want you.”

With a growl, he lined himself up with your entrance, snapping forward in a rapid thrust and your body jumped with the movement, his fingers skimming along your spine until his chest was almost pressed to your back. His hot breaths were fanning over your earlobe as he circled his arms around you, pulling you up until you were pressed flush together, with his cock buried snuggly within your walls. “And I only want you, darling.”

His hips pulled back as he spoke, snapping up into yours once he finished and he pressed a wet kiss to your cheek, before allowing your head to roll back onto his shoulder as one of his hands came up to clutch around your neck. His rhythm was bruising from the beginning, his hips slamming into yours as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, panting beside you as he grunted.

Your own hands came down, one hand sitting over his and without slowing his pace he spread his fingers from where they were sitting on your hip, his fingers lacing with yours and your other slid up your front to play with your own tits. His cock was stretching you, tapping continuously against your g-spot with every thrust he made and your arm tingled with heat as black veins crawled along his. Numb bliss covered your body, leaving you with nothing but unadulterated bliss as every pain and ache in your body slipped away, your eyes rolling back and raw screams left you.

“Think you can handle one more for me, honey? C’mon, give me one more. You can take it.” His words were choked out and strained as he punctuated each pause with a hard thrust, and you could barely nod, merely squeezing your hand around his in response, before he slipped his fingers away from yours.

Squeezing with more force at your neck, he chuckled darkly, bringing his rough fingers down to tease at your pulsing clit, taking the bead in a harsh pinch, and you jolted at the stimulation. He bit down on your shoulder, masking his own shouts of joy and his slippery palm fell away from your neck, your body falling forward the moment he was no longer supporting you and you bit at the covers beneath you once the feelings all became too much.

“Holy shit, dove, you’re so fuckin’ tight right now.” His hands were so tight on your hips that his nails were digging into your flesh, scratching trails into your soft skin as he left fingerprints up and down your body, holding onto you as he fucked into you with such fervour that you could feel it ricochetting through you. “Ready? Cum with me.”

“Please!”

His hand came down harshly on your ass, the sting feeling like it was travelling across your body you came, stars exploding behind your eyes as your arousal gushed, flowing out of you in streams and he let out a deep groan, his cock twitching before ribbons of hot and sticky cum were flowing from him and coating your walls. His hand slid up, twisting in your hair and tugging harshly, the final added jolt of pain prolonging both of your orgasms as he fucked you through it, until neither of you could take it anymore, and he pulled out of you carefully.

He collapsed down beside you on the bed, panting heavily as he sucked in ragged breaths and a thin and shiny layer of sweat covered his chest, one arm propped under his head as he started up at the ceiling above him. You grinned, your eyes closed for a second before you sat up far enough to run a hand through your matted hair, wrapping your arms around your legs as you looked down at the man.

Colour had flooded back into his body, enough so that his skin had taken on a warm colour to replace the unnatural paleness it had been before, a slight pink on his chest and cheeks from the exertion. His eyes were open, blinking as he avoided your lingering observations, but the soft honey-colour had drained back into them, making them seem lighter as he finally turned to look at you.

Pride swelled on your chest as seeing him so healthy, when neither of you had to make a sacrifice, and you gave him a cheesy grin before standing from the bed on wobbly legs and making your way to your dresser. Swiping a fresh pair of cotton panties, you tugged them up your legs, and watched in the mirror as he leaned over the bed long enough to grab his boxers and do the same.

“You look so healthy!” You eventually broke, and he sat up in the pillows, his eyebrows raising as he found your gaze in the mirror, questioning your statement as you combed out your knotty hair. “The colour has come back to you! Even that nice whiskey colour your eyes get that I think is just so pretty! You look so good, and I think that’s just awesome, because we got you a way to feed, and we both get something out of it. I think that is a real accomp- why are you looking at me like that?”

He was quick to wipe the small smile from his lips, not being sure when it had arrived and he returned his face to the normal blank look he held, shrugging his shoulders as you padded across the room toward him. Dipping down to snatch his shirt from the floor, you crawled into his space, settling comfortably across his lap as his hands came down to hold onto your hips, his thumbs soothing over the patches the scratches had been before he’d healed them, only leaving red nail marks on your skin that were rapidly fading after he’d taken the pain from them.

“Are you.. y’know, are you leaving?”

He sighed out, shaking his head slowly and letting his lips curl up at the corners in a barely present gesture of a smile, but your eyes dropped down to his lips for just a second and he knew you had noticed. “No, I think I want to stay. I suppose we could.. cuddle.” He intended to spit out the word, not enjoying the feel of it in his mouth or the way he sounded when saying it, but he did enjoy the pure joy that lit up on your features as he did, and he watched as you toyed with the material of his shirt in your hands, before tugging it over your own head.

He rolled his eyes at your enthusiasm, leaning in to place a quick peck to your lips and you grinned in response, returning the sweet gesture as your arms swung around his neck. You shuffled forward, your cheek coming down to rest on his shoulder and one of his hands moved further around your body. Tracing his fingers up and down your spine, you shivered on the occasional brush over his fingers over certain spots, and for a while, the two of you merely sat and held one another, the room warming up as the morning sun rose higher into the sky.

“Nobody has ever.. tried to think about other ways to help me before.” He spoke the words quietly, his movements of tracing patterns on your skin stilling as you leaned back to look at him, your fingers sliding up to scratch in the shorter hairs at the base of his neck soothingly.

“You saved my life when you found me, and then you spared my life instead of leaving me to die or killing me yourself.” Your words sounded more like a question, and he scoffed at you, his gaze dropping down from yours and you watched him, licking over your lips as you waited for him to speak.

“I saved you because I fed on you and you healed when your pain was taken. I saved your life for the sole purpose of using you to feed on. You were a source of food.”

“And now?” You prompted, he leaned up, pressing his lips to yours in delay as he tried to focus his mind into forming sentences so he knew who to express what he felt.

“Now, I find myself feeling. It’s disgusting. I have this, like, warmth, right here in my chest-” He motioned his hand to wave over the left side of his body, scowling as he stared off over your shoulder and you felt heat crawl up your cheeks, blushing as you grinned at him. He looked somewhere between mortified, angry and nauseated by the concept of having emotions, and you nuzzled your nose at his cheek while pressing kisses to his skin as he huffed out in exasperation. “It’s as if nothing else matters when I see you, I actually want to touch you and spend time with you. I find myself thinking about you when I’m going about my day or when I see things that I think you would like, and I want to be with you when I’m not with you.”

“Like this morning?”

“Exactly like this morning. Mmh, and the anger. The pure anger and rage I get when I think about anyone else coming near you, or worse, hurting you. My urges to kill are even stronger than when I need to feed, just because someone might one day want to harm y-” You cupped his cheek, taking his lips with yours softly and he let out a content moan at the connection, immediately pushing into it just as much as his tongue traced the seam of your lips.

You parted your lips for him, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulled your chest flush up against his, a groan slipping from him as your tongue dragged against his in slow and languid patterns. Your thumbs stroked along his thumbs, and you pulled away long enough to press kisses along his jaw, giggling as you did. “What you’re feeling? That’s how it feels to care about someone. To lo-”

“No. Absolutely not. I don’t love. I kill. I’m an evil demon, I cause chaos and strife and pain, I make people suffer and I ruin their lives. I don’t ‘love’ anyone.” You trailed your kisses along his neck, his head tipping to the side to allow you more access and he growled out in a futile warning as you laughed at his speech.

“You don’t love anyone? At all?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say the demon of whom you were currently straddling was pouting at your teasing, and it only further your amusement as you beamed at him cheekily. His moody expression remained, and the two of you found yourself in a heated stand-off over the debate as the tension crackled and fizzed in the air.

You adjusted yourself in his lap, raising your eyebrows at him questioningly and he let out a grumble under his breath, shaking his head and never taking his eyes off of you as he squeezed your hips in a warning fashion of your antics.

“I’m not saying it out loud, no matter how much you stare at me.”

“I didn’t ask you to! I didn't even say anything!” You were too proud of yourself for his liking, a snarl on his lips as he frowned at you.

“Stop playing games with me, dove. That’s my thing.”

“I’m not playing games with you. I’m just sitting in your lap and talking to you.” He saw his opportunity and took it, bucking his hips up under you and wiggling you against him as he forced your hips to grind down into his, a low whine leaving you at the feeling of his cock dragging against you, even through the layers of material.

“You are, but I think that mouth could be making better sounds for me.” His finger tugged at the collar of his shirt that was hanging on your body, pulling it far enough aside to allow him space to lick and bite at your collarbones, your head falling back and stretching the space out for him as you began to roll your hips into his of your own volition.

He sucked a deep bruise into the flesh, in a place only he would get to see when you took off your clothes for him and he blew air across the wet patch, watching you shudder under him at the feeling, before he was taking your chin between two fingers, tilting your head up so that your eyes found his.

“I’m not saying it, but I will show you it another way.”

Your fingers soothed across his cheeks as you held his face, bumping the tip of your nose against his before brushing your lips against his, your lips moulding together in slow and sensual movements, his own fingers coming up to brush loose strands of hair behind your ears. With one hand sliding around to tangle in your hair, his other slid along your body slowly, before gripping tightly at your hip.

Shuffling beneath you, he inched the two of you down until his head was propped up among the pillows, your hips grinding down into his slowly as his hardening cock twitched in his boxers, jutting up occasionally to push up into you with more force, moans slipping from your lips each time he did, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue between your lips, tangling it with your own and gripping onto you with more force.

His tongue played with yours, the kisses becoming rougher and faster, until the two of you were panting into the other’s mouths, rutting against one another with frantic need as the temperature rose around you both once again. His hand slid around from your hip, dipping under the hem of the shirt you were wearing to palm at your ass, groping the cheeks between rough fingers and taking each drop of pain when his nails scraped at your supple skin.

“Get up and take your panties off, dove. Leave the shirt on, I like how it looks on you. I want to fuck you while you’re wearing my clothes.” Your eyes were still closed when he pulled back, your lips red and swollen, and he pressed a light kiss to your forehead, before holding your hands for support as you tried to stand, your mind still hazy. Hooking your thumbs into the sides of the lace, you wiggled them down your hips, the man groaning as you did and they slid down your thighs, dropping to the floor. “Change my mind, honey. I want you to suck my cock, first.”

“I can do that.” You grin, rolling on the balls of your feet before kneeling on either side of his legs, his hands folding behind his head cheekily as he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull the boxers from his legs for him, pushing them from his ankles. Taking his member in your hand, you moved your fist along him slowly, dragging up to the top and watching as his jaw hung slack a little, his brows furrowing as his eyes closed, and you dipped down to take his tip between your lips.

Licking along the slit, you gathered up the arousal beading along his shaft, before sucking tightly around the head tracing your tongue along him, before giving in and dipping down further along his chest. Your nails dug into his thighs, the muscles clenching and shaking under your fingers as you left red streaks along his pale skin. Slurping at his stiffened erection, you pulled away, licking from his base to his tip, tracing each vein and paying special attention to the throbbing and prominent one running along the side.

The moment you pushed the tip of your tongue down on it, he groaned loudly, hips bucking up and a single, large palm came down and wove into your hair, tugging tightly an eliciting a cry from you, that was quickly muffled as he stuffed his cock back between your cheeks until you were gagging around him, tears lining your eyes as he let out continual sounds of pure satisfaction and pleasure.

When his hand loosened, you pulled away, strings of saliva hanging from your lips and connecting to his tip, his hand smoothing under your chin to wipe them away as he smirked down at you, chest flushed the same colour as your cheeks as you both panted. Pulling you up to him, he gripped your thighs as they locked on either side of his hips, but the rolling over that you expected never came. Instead, you flipped your hair over to one side and peered down at him, your lover chewing his lower lip as he looked at you.

“What?”

“I’m.. making love to you. I think I should let you.. be on top.” He seemed to have to force the words out, choked and stuttered and your eyes widened, but the lust in his eyes shone reflected in your own, you were sure, and you nodded nervously.

“Uh.. okay.” You watched him for a moment longer, before he was reaching between the two of you, stroking himself a few times before dragging his head through your slick folds, lining up and waiting as you sunk yourself down onto him. His thick girth stretched you wide, your eyes rolling back as you placed your hands on his chest, your hips sitting together snuggly and he pulsed within you, a squeak leaving you as you moved your body in your first roll.

The feeling was different, he had never let you be on top before, and you were taking your time to enjoy it. You both knew he would snap, he was barely holding his control, together now, his teeth biting down on his lip so strongly you thought it might tear and bleed, and his hands were gripping your hips so tight that his knuckles were white and you knew there would be familiar purple bruises littering your skin tomorrow.

Taking your hands to his, you bounced on him as you began to find your rhythm, and the soft clapping of skin against skin filled the room as you took his hands in yours, pushing them back into the bed until the backs of his hands were flat against the sheet, an involuntary growl slipping from him as you pinned him down. You brushed your fingers over his clenched knuckles, and he opened his hands for you, eyebrows raised as you slipped your fingers between his, lacing them together and holding onto him for leverage.

With a smirk, you leaned over him, adjusting yourself on your knees to make your movements faster and rougher, bouncing on his cock as you took your pleasure for yourself, your jaw hanging open. You heard him let out a quiet whimper under you, before you felt him move, his head lifting from the pillows to catch your lips in a heated kiss, and you whined into his mouth, letting him nip at your lips and tug on your lower one before he grunted.

“I can’t take it. I really tried.”

Bucking his hips under you, a scream left you as he pressed right up against all your special spots, his legs crooking as he bounced you in his lap, finding his footing under you and squeezing his fingers around yours before winking at you. Repeating the action, you felt your arms shake, a tremor running along your entire body as he set a rapid and aggressive pace, the slapping of skin and pornographically wet sounds echoed from the walls.

His cock would slide from you for only a second before he was filling you up once again, the pair of you sharing sloppy kisses as you clenched around him, trying to pull each other toward your climaxes as your overstimulation from the previous round sent you catapulting straight to the verge of pure bliss. “Oh, God!” Your eyes were screwed up, lips parted as screams left your body, sobs of ecstasy following as he let out his own shouts of joy at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“You’re so good for me, dove. So perfect. A perfect fit, made for me.” He mumbled, and you cracked open your eyes to look at him, your connected gaze, swimming with emotions on both ends dropped you over the edge and into your finish. Electricity shot through your body, and you leaned down, swallowing his final moan of your name before he was fucking you both through your highs, your shaking bodies clinging to one another in a sweaty and foggy mess of post-orgasmic bliss.

Pumping himself empty, he didn’t slip from you until he had nothing left to give you, and you were whimpering from the overstimulation. Sucking the pain straight from you, he rolled you over and onto your back, laying you beside himself as you looked at him sleepily, your body still twitching from the activities you had partaken in.

“That was the best we ever had.” You whispered, yawning loudly before covering it with your hand, and he barked out a laugh at your action, your hand swatting him away as he let out a snarky comment about fucking you senseless and wearing you out.

“Come here, little dove.” He muttered, scooping up your form and settling you over his chest, his arm curling around your waist to hold you to him as you nuzzled sleepily into him, your hands tracing slow and soft patterns onto your skin. He dipped down, letting a small smile pull on his lips as he caught sight of the one on yours, and he pressed kisses along your hairline, tracing them with the tip of his nose. “All mine. I might have saved you but it would seem you also saved me.”

“There are always options if you look hard enough.”

“I’m glad you looked. A little pleasure and pain is all we need.” He grinned, and you nodded against him, snoozing on his chest in the late morning and his fingers weaved through the ends of your hair as he lifted the blankets over you both, exhaustion beginning to nip at his own senses.

[little-diable]

I feel it again - Kylo Ren (smut)

Missed posting stuff for Kylo, enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader needs to remind Kylo of the strength that floods through him. 

Warnings: dom!Kylo, manhandling, choking, mentions blood, passing out, reader is on the dark side 

“I feel it again, the pull to the light”, his voice dripped with confusion and anxiety, shoulders slumped, large hands covering his features.

“Focus on the hate that consumes you late at night, the want to rip that scavenger girl to shreds, the disappointment you feel, trust the force, it always guides you into the predetermined path you have to take. You belong to the dark side, you’re the perfect embodiment of the darkness”, she placed one gloved hand on his shoulder, squeezing the skin of the man she called hers, the man she promised to guide through his highs and lows, reminding him of who he is.

She brushed her lips against his, unspoken words were shared between them as the kiss turned sloppier, more passionate with every passing moment.

Kylo visibly gulped, slowly rising from his kneeling position, eyes turning into an even darker shade, fingers twitching, “do it”, before she even spoke the words he had her pressed against the metal wall of their chamber. She’d let him use her, to awaken the deep needs and desires inside of him, recalling the strength that would flow through him, the hate he’d feel for all those people that were fighting against him, eventually he’d kill them all, with (y/n) by his side.

As he’d lay wide awake at night Kylo would imagine what it would feel like to finally slice his lightsaber through Skywalker’s chest, thirsting for the satisfied feeling that would overtake him as his so called uncle would choke out his last sounds. He’d try to come up with things he’d spat at him, searching for (y/n)s hand as he’d watch the man tumble down to the earth, fading away like the weak jedi Kylo pictured him to be.

His teeth pierced through (y/n)s lips, drawing some blood from the thin skin, urged on by the iron taste. “I’m here commander, I’m yours”, she softly spoke, untying the knot of her dark nightgown, standing completely bare in front of him, skin still branded by the marks and bruises he had left behind, commemorating the experience of her trembling body buried underneath his as he’d work on her with his full lips.

“Tonight I’ll fuck you raw, till you won’t even remeber your own name”, it was more of a promise than a simple statement, a promise to wreck her, to leave marks as dark as ever, bruises to leave her quivering for the following days. She’d be a ruthless fighter, danger radiated off her with every step she took, the perfect empress to follow her husband wherever the force would take them to, but behind closed doors she’d let him gain the upper hand, humiliating her as he’d wreck her.

Kylo gave her a hard shove, sliding across the cold floor, scraping her knees, drawing some more blood. She was kneeling, (y/e/c) eyes following his tall frame with every step he took, slowly shrugging off his clothes, till he was just as naked as (y/n).

A sinister smile tugged on his lips, forcefully Kylo wrapped one hand around her ponytail, “suck, be a good little slut for your husband”. (Y/n) painfully winced, parting her lips, inviting his angry, red tip into her mouth, sliding her tongue up and down his member, “just like that”, he tugged on her roots, scalp burning from his tight grip. Tears spilled from her eyes as he thrusted his hips against her face, length disappearing down the back of her throat, forcing her to swallow around him, manhandling her like she had been begging for.

The words pushed her down the memory lane, mind taking her back to one of the first nights she’d spend with him, a freshly wed couple, still taking time to themselves to properly explore their bodies.

“I want you to be rough with me”, she panted the words, eyes hooked on his, cheeks flushed, praying to the stars that he’d give into her wants. “Rough you say?”, his gloved hand danced along her jaw, teeth biting his lips, wondering what he had ever done to deserve such a beautiful, breathtaking woman by his side. “Manhandle me, Kylo”, just as the words had left her, he had forced her onto her knees, “well then go on, be a good little slut for me”.

The pair of them moaned in unison, his raspy sounds shot shivers up her spine, lips tightly wrapped around his impressive girth, crying salty tears for his dark eyes to watch. “Bet you’re soaked, you like being my fucktoy, don’t you?”, it seemed as if Kylo could switch personalities within a few seconds, turning from the scared and confused man that reminded her of Ben Solo to the ruthless and violent leader he now was.

(Y/n) mumbled a few incoherent words, the vibrations made Kylo groan, ripping himself out of her mouth, finally giving her a few moments to breathe. His dark eyes danced over her tear stained features, hand grasping her forearm, fingertips digging into her skin as he pulled her towards their bed.

He still wasn’t used to feeling her lips around his length, something about the way she’d take care of him, expertly taking as much of him as possible, filled him with emotions he couldn’t even find the perfect words to describe. No other woman had ever managed to make him feel like that, no matter how many girls he’d find to bury his length into, to chase his release as he’d fuck them into the cheap mattresses of the bordells, nobody would ever touch and please him like (y/n).

The room was spinning, (y/n) couldn’t find anything to concentrate on, mind confused by the different sensations he brought upon her, degrading her like he hadn’t done for weeks. “Nothing? No words? You’re awfully silent for an empress like you, maybe we should give you something to scream for.”, he connected his palm to her aching core, hand slapping her folds with as much force as possible.

Stars, he’d take it to another level that night.

With every passing moment he could feel the anger rise in the pit of his stomach, urging him on, giving him another opportunity to remind her who she belongs to, the lord of the darkness, Kylo Ren himself. Like a hurricane he had come upon her, ripping her off her feet, robbing her of anything she valued, wrecking her till nothing was left, besides the dark heart of hers, pumping for revenge and hate.

This was exactly what she needed, her core had been aching for a few days, patiently waiting for Kylo to return from his mission, she wouldn’t touch herself, wouldn’t push herself over the edge, just like she had promised him. Her cries reverberated through the cold bedroom, a sound that filled him with pride, nobody would ever make her feel like this, besides himself.

Her folds were painfully throbbing, her cries spilled out from her, hoarse voice begging him to finally fuck her like he had promised, length pounding into her, pushing her over the edge.

“What was that?”, Kylo clicked his tongue, licking his palm clean, the taste of her arousal heavy on his tongue as he crawled up her body, caging her between his arms and legs, staring her down with those dark eyes of his. “Fuck me, please commander”, (y/n) couldn’t keep her eyes open, her eyelids felt heavy, exhausted from the tears she had cried.

His insides were burning, cock aching to be buried inside her heat, coated by her slick, surrounded by her hot walls, “yes, yes I will”, with one fast movement, he had slipped into her, not giving her any time to adjust, he couldn’t waste any more time.

Kylo pinned her down on the mattress with one hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her airway, tightly squeezing, till she was about to pass out, he loved to feel her quivering as she was just about to give out, eyes rolling into the back of her head, falling limp in his touch.

“Ky, stars, I-”, she tried to warn him, praying that he’d let loose, giving her enough space to breathe, but the tall man was too far gone, high on the adrenaline that pumped through his veins.

For a moment or two she passed out, not giving any reactions from her, waking as Kylo slapped her cheek, bringing her back to reality. “Stay with me baby”, for a moment an expression of concern crossed his eyes, wondering if he had taken it too far, but the small moan that left her bruised lips was enough to calm his racing thoughts.

Stars, she was a perfect fit for him, it felt like her body was made for him, molding against his broad chest, walls stretched around him, giving into his rough touch and those cruel words he’d speak in the heat of the moment. He pulls out of her and slams back in with as much force as he could muster, maker, both would tumble over  the edge in a few moments.

(Y/n) was used to the ongoing burns of discomfort, Kylo was too big to comfortably take all of him, but somehow her body was thirsting for the pain that got mixed up with the pleasure that flooded through her. “You’re so big”, her whimpers made him smirk, secretly he loved to be praised like that, knowing that no man would ever be able to make her feel like this calmed his rapidly beating heart.

She was too far gone by now, her mind wasn’t properly working, struggling to come up with any words, sentences, nothing, besides a few moans, rolled off her tongue, (y/n) couldn’t even remember her own name, just like he had promised. He looked handsome like that, not that there was any moment where he wouldn’t look absolutely breathtaking, but something about the darkness that swallowed his frame, those burning eyes of his, with sweat pooling on his forehead, made (y/n) adore him even more.

“Cum for me”, he pressed out, jaw clenched, length tearing her apart, riding her through the mindblowing orgasm of hers. Euphoria began to spread through her veins, ripping her out of her hazy state, sobbing Kylo’s name, thrashing around on the big bed, pulling him right down the edge with her. Kylo filled her up with his release, burying himself into her to the hilt, not moving an inch as his orgasm wrecked through him.

Kylo ran his thumb along her lower lip, across the scars his teeth had left behind, “does it hurt?”, his hoarse voice echoed through the darkness, carrying the concerns that began to cloud his mind. She didn’t find the strength to answer him, (y/n) shook her head, yawning into his chest as sleep began to overcome her, cosying her along, engulfing her in its warm and comforting embrace.

[idabbleincrazy]

Go Out with a Bang Ch. 5

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<-- Chapter Four

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: E

Pairing: Spangel

Characters: Angel, Spike, Wesley, Illyria, Gunn, Lorne

Word Count: 7561

Warnings: Smut, angst, teasing, rough sex, anal fingering, anal, dirty talk, semi-primal sex, possessive!Angel, coming on command, biting, blood drinking, Sire/Childe dynamics, Vampire dynamics, mention of canonical character death

Summary: Spike has lingering doubts about the coming battle and requires a rougher touch to wash them away before he and Angel leave the solitude of the suite.

A/N: Normally I wouldn’t end a fic like this, but since I plan to make this a series, I made an exception. mo cheann milis - my sweet one

Feedback fuels my creativity! If you like my work, plz comment/reblog!!!!

Spike woke just as the vibrations of his phone started and without pulling fully away from Angel, he managed to grab the phone and shut it off before the sound of the alarm filled the silence. Setting the phone down, he wrapped himself back around Angel, brushing his lips across the nape of his neck in a soft kiss. Tried to push back the looming dread as the seconds ticked away, same as he always did. He couldn’t waste the time he had left, not when he finally had what he’d wanted for over a century. 

“Know you’re awake, luv.” Spike let his hand play over the expanse of Angel’s stomach, his fingers trailing down between his legs to wrap around his half-hard member. “Hmm, looks like all of you is awake. What were you dreaming, naughty Liam?”

Angel hummed sleepily and thrust up into Spike’s enveloping hand, his own reaching back to clutch at Spike’s side, holding him fast against his back. 

“Was dreaming of you, of us, and that week in Bruges. D’you remember, lovely William? Such passion you showed, even when I’d had to repay you for getting us kicked out of that first hotel.”

“Remember nearly losin’ a toe to your own passions that first night after the girls had left for Vienna”, Spike tightened his grip slightly and pressed the evidence of his own arousal against the small of Angel’s back. “Never found myself face-down so quick in all the years before that; barely had yourself out of your breeches before you were in me. Rest of the week weren’t much slower, neither.”

Angel let out a soft groan as Spike worked him fully hard, turning in the blonde’s embrace to capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss. Spike’s hard cock brushed against his and he nipped at his bottom lip before breaking the kiss. 

“How much time do we have left?” 

“Not due back over at my flat for ‘bout an hour ‘n a half, give or take. More than enough time for one more tumble before we shower and pack up whatever little mementos you plan on scarperin’ off with.” 

“Good.” 

Angel growled playfully and pressed Spike onto his back, settling between his spreading legs as his lips trailed along his jaw. Spike ran his hands up Angel’s back, arching himself closer against him as blunt teeth nipped a path down his jaw. He let out a soft moan as Angel teased his tongue over his Siring mark, tilting his head to grant him better access.

“Bloody hell, Angel. Keep tonguing that and I’m gonna go off too soon, luv.” Spike felt his cock throb with every flick of Angel’s tongue, a trickle of pre-cum pooling on his stomach as Angel thrust his own hardness against his. “Fuck, always too much and not enough. Need you, Angel.”

“You’ve got me, Spike.” Angel kissed his way further down Spike’s body, biting softly at his collarbone before sliding himself down to lick over one pert nipple. “Tell me what you want, hmm...want my mouth on you? Wanna be in me again, filling me up so fucking good? Tell me, Will.”

Spike whimpered as Angel’s teeth scraped gently over his nipple, his hands winding into Angel’s hair, fingers carding through the short strands at the nape of his neck. Needed this. Needed the distraction, to keep the nagging thoughts from pecking at his resolve.

“You. Just want you. God, Angel, wanna feel you in me. Now.” Spike pulled Angel back up to him with a sharp tug on his hair, drawing a growl from the elder vampire. “Can’t wait, luv. Need you in me, need you to make me feel it, to forget…”

“Forget? Forget what, sweet Spike?” 

“Forget that I might lose you tonight.” Spike turned his gaze away from Angel’s concerned look, willing himself not to dwell on the battle that loomed before them. He knew Angel had promised to do everything he could to keep them both from dying their final deaths at the hands of the Senior Partners, knew he was more than capable of holding his own in a fight, but the renewed Sire claim and the newly formed Claim were filling his head and soul with all kinds of doubts and worries. “Need you to drive these thoughts from my head, Liam, please. Fuck me, good ‘n hard, Sire.”

Angel gasped softly at Spike’s hushed words, feeling his pain just as clearly as he smelled it rolling off him, like acrid smoke swirling up in the scant space between their bodies. He braced himself against the pillow on one hand, using the other to grip Spike’s chin and urge him to look back at him. His eyes flashed a heated amber as they locked onto stormy blue, the fear and desperation he found in those steely depths made the claims flare up in his still heart, aching for his Childe, his mate, as he felt the need to soothe away all of Spike’s apprehension. 

He let a soft purr rumble in his chest as he dipped his head down to capture those beautiful lips, determined to kiss away the sorrow that curved them down. He wouldn’t make promises beyond those he had already given, couldn’t promise more than he had, but he could help him, help keep that wall from falling to dust. He could give him this distraction. Spike’s hands clutched Angel closer as he deepened the kiss and he let his tongue slowly tangle with Spike’s until the first soft moans escaped the pliant mouth beneath his. A whimper of complaint hit his ears as he pulled away to look down at his Childe, blue eyes less stormy, if not a bit glazed by the lust that steadily darkened them. 

“Please, Da…”

“Shh, my beautiful boy, I’ve got you.” Angel runs his hands over Spike’s chest, fingers caressing the Claim gently, reverently, as he shifts on the bed. “I’ve always got you, till I dust.”

He sits back on his heels and looks him over once more before steeling his resolve. Minutes have passed since he woke from his dream yet it seems like hours, days, a lifetime. Had he made a mistake in giving into their needs for the Claim? Should he have insisted they wait? Or would they still have ended up like this, with him needing to bolster Spike’s nerve one last time? He wouldn’t take it back if given a million chances. Needs the connection as much as he fears that it could ruin them both tonight. Maybe Spike’s not the only one who needs the distraction.

“Turn over.”

Spike does as he’s told, knowing that look on his Sire’s face, reveling in it. Angel wants to keep him on his back, to love him as he has these past few hours. Can’t. Can’t give his Childe the hard, fast fuck he needs while looking into those eyes; not while the Claim still lays such a fresh and vibrant shade of raw, fang-torn red above his heart. Needs him on his knees, Renaissance-sculpted face pressed into the pillows as he drives away the shadows that crowd his mind, one harsh thrust at a time. Spike knows this, understands, and says nothing as he settles himself face-down, knees drawing in towards his chest, ass up, back sloping as his shoulders press into the mattress. He lets his hands rest on either side of his head, ready to reach back for Angel and pull him closer, or up to grip at the headboard for leverage to push back harder. 

Angel lets a soft growl of approval rumble in his chest as he reaches over for the lube. He pops the cap and squeezes a drop onto his fingers, pushes the first slick digit into Spike’s tight hole before the gel even has a chance to warm up. Draws a gasping hiss from the blonde beneath him and has to resist the urge to soothe a hand up along the visible knobs of his spine as he gives him a cursory thrust before adding a second finger. 

“Yesss...oh, Christ, Da.”

“This what you want, boy? My fingers working you open for me? Speak, William, let me hear you. Wanna hear every little sound, Childe, every filthy word that falls from that sinful tongue.” Angel let himself get lost in the pattern of the recent past, keeping his probing fingers moving fast, not nearly deep enough for either of their liking, slipping back into the Angel that - since his boy returned to him - had kept his deeper feelings and wants hidden from the body beneath him. “Moan for me, Spike, such a sweet little whore.”

“Fuck, Sire, Angel, yes. Yes, it’s what I want, please. God, Da, fuck me.”

Angel growled low and deep, his brusk fingering slowing, the minimal prep already more than Spike probably wanted, less than he would have preferred. Removed his fingers from the barely-stretched hole. Back to the pain, then, like in the shower, like all the weeks and months since his Childe had become corporeal once more. For Spike, he let the demon closer to the surface; for himself, he kept it firmly in check, kept it precariously balanced with the soul as he took up the bottle of lube once more and poured a meager drop onto his aching cock. Yes, aching. Even as he longed to make love to his sweet William, his body still could never deny its response to the prospect of a rough fuck. 

“Please, please, Sire...LiamAngel’GelusDa, please!” Spike whined desperately, one hand reaching blindly behind him to pull Angel closer as the elder vampire drew out the moment, stroking himself. Angel allowed himself a second of pride; Spike’s mind was definitely not on the night ahead, if his rambling was anything to judge by.

“My filthy boy, I’ve gotcha.” Angel reached out a hand to grip at Spike’s hip and pressed forward, sliding into him in one quick thrust. “Oh, Jesus, Spike...so fucking tight.”

Spike moaned loudly, his fingers gripping at the back of Angel’s thigh as he pushed back against him. He braced the palm of his other hand against the headboard for leverage as Angel began a harsh pace after only a slight pause, more to gather his own wits than to give Spike a chance to adjust. He fought with the Claim as he thrust into the yielding body beneath him, wanting nothing more than to give in and flip his Childe back around and watch every emotion play across that beautiful face; but that wasn’t what Spike needed. He didn’t need the slow caresses of their previous two rounds, he didn’t need the time and energy to dwell on the imminent future; he needed the fast, deep thrusts, forcing out any thought that wasn’t focused on the here and now.

“Fuck, yes, Angel, just like that. Fuck your boy, Da.”

Angel snarled at that, letting himself tap into the primal need that always lurked deep within him to possess this particular blonde over all others. He took Spike’s hand from his thigh, wrapping it up in his own and stretched out over his back, spreading Spike’s arm out along the pillow as he plowed into him. He let his demon face to the fore, dipping his head down to scrape his fangs along the unblemished side of Spike’s neck, his tongue trailing back up the same path to lap up the beads of blood that welled up from the shallow scratches. 

“Always such a little whore for me, aren’t you, Spike?” Angel’s voice was gruff in his ear, and Spike couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran through him, moaning wantonly in direct confirmation of the question. “That’s right, always spreading those pretty legs so easily for your Da. Ripe little slut, my perfect boy, not satisfied without my cock filling you, stretching you open just right.”

“Angel…”

“Yeah, that’s it, lemme hear you. Love it when you beg for me, when you go hoarse from screaming my name. Loud as you are, the whole city must know whose cock you always hunger for by now.” 

The scent of Spike’s anxiety was slowly erased by the increasing scent of their lust, the musk of arousal overpowering the sour tang of his fear with each hard snap of Angel’s hips. As Spike called out his name again, those slim hips pushing back to meet each deep thrust, Angel slid his hand around his waist and wrapped his fingers around the slick shaft of Spike’s cock. His fangs scraped over sweat-dampened skin again as Spike let out a keening whimper when he began stroking the throbbing length in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Christ! Da, ‘m close. Fuck, make me come, Angel, please, lemme come.”

Angel groaned loudly against the back of Spike’s neck and sped his thrusts faster, skin smacking against skin as he felt his orgasm surging closer. He no longer scented his Childe’s trepidation in the air now, all-consuming lust and want and need swirling thick around them as his brutal pace continued, pushing them inexorably towards that edge. Spike’s cock throbbed in his hand, and he tightened his grip around the girth as he stroked him, the copious pre-cum slicking the way easily. His thumb and forefinger twisted sharply at the now-exposed head and he fought back the renewed urge to sink his fangs into Spike’s neck at the mewling plea that fell from the blonde’s lips. So very close.

“Come on, then,” Angel pushed deeper into the clenching hole, the tip of his aching cock brushing over that bundle of nerves as he held himself within his Childe, needing Spike to come first before he finally let go. “Spill for me, mo cheann milis, let me feel it.”

Angel’s voice rasped in Spike’s ear, the Gaelic endearment tipping the scales for him and he cried out a wordless howl of ecstasy as he came, ropes of cum spurting from his pulsing cock to soak the sheets beneath him. He sagged in Angel’s enveloping embrace as his climax ripped through him, letting the arm wrapped around him hold him up. 

Angel felt already tight muscles clench further and barley kept himself from following immediately behind as Spike’s cool seed spilled over his hand.Angel released his grip on Spike’s hand and raised his to the blonde’s moaning lips, offering his wrist as he staved off his orgasm just a few more seconds.

“Drink, Childe”, Angel murmured against Spike’s skin, his own fangs sinking into the nape of his neck as soon as he felt the sharp sting of Spike’s piercing through his wrist. 

Spike’s now-free hand reached back to grasp once again at Angel’s thigh, pulling him impossibly deeper as he took a long pull of blood from the offered arm between his teeth. Angel thrust into him one last time, his fangs latched onto his neck, muffling the roar that sounded around the flesh as he came, his cum surging from him into Spike’s tight warmth to fill him as though it could mark him even more completely as his from the inside out. 

Barely half an hour had passed since Spike had brought him to full awareness with a mere touch, but for all Angel could tell, it could have been an eternity unto itself. His mercurial Childe would never lose that effect on him, he supposed. It was so easy to lose all sense of time, to just exist, trapped in amber, when his hands were full of miles of pale, smooth skin, and his ears were full of exquisite, sinful sounds he’d failed to find anywhere else in all his many years of unlife. 

Angel took one short draw of blood from the pinprick wounds on Spike’s neck, savoring the flavor of his mate before swallowing it and disengaging his fangs. His climax tapered out as he laved his tongue over the wounds, a purr vibrating through him from the body pressed back against his as Spike followed suit. 

“Needed that. Ta, luv.” 

Spike’s gasping voice was soft, and surprisingly sober as he pulled away from Angel’s wrist and let himself slump down to the mattress, a sated calmness wafting off of him. Angel hummed in welcome, and eased himself carefully from between Spike’s legs with a grunt before collapsing next to him on the bed to catch his breath. 

A few minutes later, Spike shoved himself up and slid from the bed, stretching languidly before turning to face Angel. He still smelled of a resolut calmness, but Angel could tell the look on his face was diligently schooled to conceal the tiny kernel of doubt that still lay deep in the back of his mind. Angel sat up and waited for him to speak, knowing the younger vampire well enough than to push the issue. He’d given him enough of the reassurance he sought to shield himself behind and carry out the fight. Angel would never stop marveling at his Childe’s silent strength.

“So, we showerin’ together, or ‘m I soaping myself up while you pack up your gear ‘n whatall?”

Angel laughed softly in relief and clambered out of bed to follow Spike into the bathroom, his eyes lingering on the already-healing bite mark on the back of his neck before trailing down the planes of his back. In his need to give Spike the ‘rough and tumble’ he required, he’d not had the chance to appreciate the way those muscles shifted with every little movement. He made a mental note to rectify that if they saw tomorrow. 

After they showered, Spike pointed out that he couldn’t exactly wear his shirt back to the apartment, seeing as how they’d used it to wipe up after that first round. Angel somehow managed to look both sheepish and proud at that fact, and pulled an extra shirt from the closet for him to wear. He’d gladly have let Spike go around shirtless if there was time for him to be distracted further by the finely-muscled beauty of his chest. 

Watching as Spike buttoned up the too-big shirt, Angel felt his cock stir yet again, the demon rumbling in contentment at the sight. Some things even a soul couldn’t change and the particular pull of possessiveness he felt for his golden Childe had failed to fade away over the past century, no matter how hard he had tried to tamp it down. Seeing Spike in his shirt, the fresh Sire mark just visible above the collar, sent a thrill down his spine he hadn’t felt in too long. 

Forcing himself to turn away from the beautiful blonde before he ripped the clothes right back off of him, Angel finished getting dressed as Spike pulled on his boots and went out to the living room to retrieve his duster, lighting a cigarette as he walked back into the bedroom. 

“So, what goodies were you plannin’ on packing up to scarper off with, luv?” Spike leaned against the dresser as he took a drag from the cigarette, a put-on pout forming on his lips when Angel crossed over to him and plucked it from his lips to take a puff from it himself. 

“Well, aside from the cooler of blood in the fridge and the toys on the table, I really only planned on taking some of the clothes. Nothing else here was really much to my taste, anyway, and the few things that were have already been moved over to the Hyperion. But, if there’s anything you have your eye on, feel free, I’ll drop it all off at the hotel after the meeting.”

“Wouldn’t mind raiding that liquor cabinet, they kept you well and truly stocked up on the good stuff and it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Angel chuckled and handed the cigarette back to Spike, walking over to the closet and pulling out two duffle bags out and handing one to him. Spike took one last pull from his smoke and stubbed it out on the wood of the dresser before heading out to pilfer the booze. Angel set about emptying the closet and drawers of the clothes he liked best and collected the handcuffs, lube and various other items from the bedside table before zipping up the duffle and following Spike through the suite. He set the bag by the elevator and fetched the cooler of blood from the kitchen, returning to find Spike eyeing the various knick-knacks.

“Any of these things collectibles, you figure? Only, just wonderin’ what we would do for dosh once that company card of yours gets cancelled…”

Angel smiled slyly at Spike and pulled him away from the painting he was inspecting, the duffle bag in his hand clinking as the glass bottles were jostled. 

“Trust me, Spike, I’ve planned very well for this. Managed to set away a few million dollars just in case the Senior Partners keep us on the run for a while. We’re more than set.” 

“You stashed how much?!” Spike’s eyes widened in disbelief, looking for all the world like he’d just seen Angel sprout a second head.

“Fourteen million, give or take. Helps when you can bullshit about having palms to grease and the Partners can’t track the cash. And, if a few harmless, yet rather valuable artifacts happen to turn up missing from the vaults, well…” 

“Lord, Angel, good to know all that penny-pinchin’ of yours amounted to something. At least we won’t be livin’ off scraps if we survive.” Spike followed behind Angel as they walked over to the elevator. “Guess this makes you my Sugar Daddy, then, eh, Peaches?”

Angel groaned and resisted the urge to turn around and cuff Spike upside the head as he pressed the button for the elevator doors. As he picked up the duffle bag, Spike turned him around to look up at him, his face once again serious.

“Hey, if the worst comes, couldn’t think of a better last day. Came here expectin’ you to toss me out flat on my arse, laughin’ all the while. ‘Stead, you gave me more than I ever dared to hope for, you gave me you. Thank you for that, Angel.”

Angel shouldered his bag and stepped closer, reaching up to brush his thumb softly over Spike’s cheekbone, the blonde’s love for him flowing through their bond in full force and hitching an unnecessary breath in his throat. Spike stared up at him, his eyes clear and bright as they hadn’t been in a long time. Angel dipped his head down and captured his lips in a relatively tame - for them - kiss, his nose brushing across Spike’s as he pulled away. 

“Thank you for taking me back, Spike.”

A soft purr rumbled in Spike’s chest as the two of them stepped into the elevator, more determined than ever to see them through the night. 

Spike pulled the Viper into the apartment building’s garage with Angel close behind in the recently tinted Plymouth, and stepped out of the car on slightly shaky legs. Angel got out of the Plymouth and came to stand next to him, his eyes narrowing in concern as he took in the look on Spike’s face. 

“What? Will, what is it?”

“Think the Claim’s kickin’ in a bit now that there were more than a few feet between us. Heard you, in my ‘ead, naggin’ me ‘bout my driving. Was bloody unnervin’.”

“Oh,” Angel breathed a sigh of relief with a soft smile. “So, I guess that was why you swerved three lanes over about three miles back?”

“Well, yeah...didn’t you hear cussin’ a blue streak?”

Spike looked a little crestfallen at the possible imbalance in the progression of their Claims and Angel hated having to shake his head no.

“Try it now, think something at me.”

Still angry ‘bout that jibe at my drivin’, ponce. Least I don’t drive like some soddin’ Grandma who forgot how to shift bloody gears. 

Angel watched Spike’s face bunch up in grumpy concentration as he waited for the blonde to think something in his direction, soon becoming unnerved when a minute passed and his head stayed British accent-free. 

“Well?”

Spike’s frown deepened and he tried again, shutting his eyes to focus better.

Stupid bloody git, I drive just fine thanks very much. Not everyone has to compensate for that beach umbrella you call a forehead.

When Angel failed to growl at the insult, Spike’s frown fell into a pout, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

“Nothin’? Not even a whisper?”

“Sorry, Spike. Wait…” Angel decided to try to direct his thoughts at Spike to test the connection. Will...can you hear me still? “Anything?”

“Not a blip.”

“Well, maybe it was just a one-off, then. I wouldn’t let it get you worked up, Spike, I’m surprised it happened at all so soon. From what I know, the effects take time to form. At least we can already sense each other better, that’s something.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Spike sighed wistfully. “Was just lookin’ forward to bein’ able to broadcast naughty thoughts at ya when the others are ‘round, though.”

Angel scoffed and shook his head and started walking towards the stairs that led to Spike’s basement apartment. 

“Believe me, Spike, your eyes are expressive enough for me to get the very inappropriate gist nine times out of ten.”

“Still, it’d be nice to have the back-up for that tenth time.”

Spike and Angel stepped into his apartment to find Wes and Illyria still there, Wes hovering protectively at Illyria’s side as he helped her from the bed. Spike became all too aware now of how big Angel’s button-down was on him and how fresh their Siring scars looked on their necks as Wesley looked between them, his brow raised knowingly. Even with the heat of embarrassment that tingled at the back of his neck, he couldn’t find reason to put more space between himself and Angel, and he was happy to note, rather, how Angel pressed closer beside him, his large hand resting at the small of his back.

“I see the two of you spent the day...productively.”

Spike surreptitiously tasted the air to gauge Angel’s reaction, relieved to find a happy calmness rolling off of him instead of the expected sense of discomfort, and relaxed into his soft touch. 

“We’ve worked out some things that should have been settled months ago, yes.” Angel smiled wistfully at the ex-Watcher. “We won’t traumatize you with the details.”

Wes gave a quiet chuckle and nodded in understanding. Spike noticed how Wesley smelled considerably less of alcohol than he had the previous few weeks and was glad the man wouldn’t be going into this foray quite so compromised.

“Well, I’m happy for you both, truly. We’ve all been waiting months for you to finally gather the courage to admit to each other what had already become obvious to the rest of us. I’m glad you both will be going into this with the truth of your souls made known. And don’t think for a second that I begrudge you it, either of you.”

“Ta for that, Percy.” Spike leaned into Angel’s side and nodded at Wes, his soul twinging at the sadness he felt for the mystic and his loss. “Means a lot, from you.”

“Thank you, Wes. Really. You, more than any of the others, know the importance of the step we’ve taken. But, I want you to know we’re not going to let it distract us from whatever blowback we have to face tonight.”

Wes nodded in understanding, a sad smile on his face. 

“I know. I trust you both to have taken all due considerations beforehand.” Wes looked over at Spike. “Gunn and Lorne will be here soon, you might want to change into something less telling...unless we have an hour for all the sordid details and all of Lorne’s inevitable questions?”

“Right.” 

Spike ducked his head and reluctantly left Angel’s side to change his shirt. He could feel Angel’s cheeky mirth and heard him clear as day when he spoke too softly for Wesley to hear. 

“Too bad. I was getting used to seeing you wearing my clothes.”

“Possessive bastard”, Spike whispered back with a smile in his voice.

Angel chuckled quietly, the sound cutting off abruptly as he caught Illyria’s gaze, her head tilted curiously at him. 

“I do not understand. Why should it matter if he wears the clothes of his mate?” Illyria looked down at Wesley for clarification on the matter, and Angel found himself regarding them with his own curiosity. They seemed to have formed a tenuous bond of their own in the past few days, and he could scent a sense of companionship burgeoning deep within them. His soul took comfort in the slight easing of Wesley’s grief, even if it wasn’t likely to last. “Even the base creatures of this world seem to carry the scent of their mates with them, on them, when they must be apart, why should the half-breeds be any different?”

Wes huffed a soft laugh, not quite looking at her as he spoke.

“Sometimes, the full details of the intimacies between two people are preferred to be kept secret. Not for the lack of understanding, but simply to have something that is just theirs. Displaying themselves as something other than they previously were perceived to be can lead to prying questions into matters better left private, especially in the early days of a change in dynamics.” Wesley looked at Angel, his eyes portraying just how much he truly understood what had gone on between Spike and himself. “Lorne, as a demon himself, may appreciate the delicacies of such matters, but the empath in him might find it hard to resist boasting of his foresight of such partakings. Charles is another matter, entirely. He has a penchant for not being able to read the room and asking the awkward questions others would politely refrain from inquiring upon.”

Illyria looked like she had even more questions than answers, but before she could open her mouth to speak them, Spike returned and silenced her with a look. Angel wondered at that, at what things may have passed between them during the hours they had logged in the firm’s training rooms for her haughtiness to be quieted so easily. 

“Enough of the lessons on demon relations, Perce. Blue don’t really need complex understandin’ of what makes vampires tick right now, you’d only succeed in spinning her godly little head in circles. And not a word to the other two, they don’t need the distraction.”

Spike sat himself on the couch just as the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached Angel’s ears, signalling Lorne and Gunn’s approach. Just as the doorknob turned, Angel let out a quiet mine, and Spike’s eyes flashed golden as he mouthed always back at him.

Charles entered the apartment first and promptly sat down on the couch beside Spike with a nod in Angel’s direction. Lorne lingered by the door for a few seconds, his red eyes widening as they flicked between Angel and Spike and narrowing again as he looked over at Wes and Illyria. Another look at Angel, his mouth opening to speak and shutting again when Angel curtailed his questioning with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, don’t tell me all the glorious details then, Angelcakes. Just too bad it didn’t happen sooner so I could’ve collected that fifty bucks from Lloyd in accounting.” 

Lorne ignored Angel’s indignant grunt and went to lean against the kitchen table. Angel’s gaze lingered on the empath a second longer, disconcerted that he couldn’t quite gauge his emotions.

Once everyone settled, Angel stood before them all, the weight of the mission settling upon his shoulders once more and making him all business yet again. 

“This may come out a little pretentious, but...one of you will betray me.” Everyone looked over at Spike as he raised his hand, that wry look on his face, but Angel rolled his eyes and continued. “Wes.” 

Wes looked over at him, confused no doubt by his newly restored memories. His eyes narrowed as he waited for Angel to explain.

“Oh.” Spike deflated slightly but carried on, determined to push Angel’s buttons with his little passion play scenario. “Can I deny you three times?”

Angel could feel through the bond that Spike wasn’t serious, his emotions playful. No doubt just trying to keep the mood as light as possible in the given circumstances, so he refrained from growling at the blonde and kept his focus on the task.  

“Vail’s the sorcerer of the bunch. You know that game. You’ve seen his place. He believes you’d make a play for my spot.”

“That’s not very flattering.”

“It’ll get you in the door.” Angel turned his attention to Illyria as Wesley frowned in resignation. “Illyria, Izzerial the devil...and three other members of the Circle dine together almost every night.”

“I’ll make trophies of their spines.” The glint in her eyes left Angel suppressing a shudder and making a mental note to keep from getting on her bad side again.

“Good to have you on the team. Gunn-”

“Yo.” 

Angel could smell the trepidation that threaded through the grim determination that rolled off Charles, the young man hiding well how badly he needed to make tonight count for something. Angel understood all too well the lingering need for penance that he hid behind his seemingly composed state. He hoped Gunn wouldn’t let that need goad him into being too rash, hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed in his search for redemption.

“Your friend, Senator Brucker, has a campaign office in West L.A. You already know she’s pure hell spawn, and she tends to surround herself with vampires.”

“I was hopin’ it’d be vamps. Haven’t dusted nearly enough this year.” Charles turned to Spike, his hand out in placation. “No offense.”

“It’s alright.” Spike could feel the worry coming from Angel as he had spoken to Gunn, and shared in the elder vampire’s hopes that the boy wouldn’t be too rash in his actions. 

“Spike.”

“Right. First off, I’m not wearin’ any amulets.” Spike pushed himself up off the couch to face Angel directly. The two of them may have been closer than they had ever been in his entire unlife, but that wasn’t going to stop him from getting his digs in where he could. “No bracelets, brooches, beads, pendants, pins or rings.”

“Fine. All you need is a rattle.” A small, nearly smug grin pulled at Angel’s lips as he spoke.

“Ah, the baby.” Spike had been itching for a fight for a few days now, and this promised to be a good one; the Brethren were no small clan, they were sure to put up a ruckus at any attempt to take away their future sacrifice.

“And the legion of the Fell Brethren. I want the kid returned to his mother and the foster family dismembered.”

“Done and done”, Spike agreed as he returned to the couch.

“Archduke Sebassis has over 40,000 demons at his command.” Angel paced around the small space as he spoke, keeping his emotions carefully guarded from the non-humans in the room, especially Spike. Better to let them think he was simply taking on the old demon. “Other members of the council fear him. He’s the key player, so he’s mine. Lorne-”

“I’m not a fighter, Angelwings.” Angel paused in front of him. “Never had the stomach for it. Looks like I’m your weak link.”

“I just need you to back up Lindsey.”

Off to his side, Wesley spoke up.

“Still can’t believe you brought him into this.”

“He’s a part of this.” Angel paced again, feeling less like Patton rallying his troops and more like Leonidas condemning his warriors with every passing second and had to remind himself that they had all chosen freely to follow his plan. “It’ll be just as dangerous for him as it will be for everyone else on our team.” 

Clear that Angel was finished doling out their various tasks, everyone began to stand and ready themselves to leave. Charles, looking as nonchalant as possible with his hands in his pockets, caught Angel’s attention.

“So I guess we’re not goin’ back to the office after this.”

“The alley just north of the Hyperion. Everyone who makes it meets there. We do any damage at all, the Senior Partners are gonna rain hell on us. So be ready.”

Spike gave a nod of his head and headed into the kitchen for a beer as Lorne approached Angel.

“Hey, uh, Ange - I’ll do this last thing for you, for us, but then I’m out.” And there it was. The secret Angel had felt Lorne trying to hide. “And you won’t find me in the alley afterwards. Hell, you won’t find me at all. Do me a favor. Don’t try.”

Angel felt the loss of him already as he watched Lorne walk out of the apartment ahead of the others. He knew he owed it to the empath to honor his request, and hoped he made it through the fight with Sahrvin to enjoy his newfound lease on life. He also made a note to keep an eye out for any new acts in Vegas that might boast to be home to the green demon in case Lorne gave in to the temptation of fame again.

“Day went by fast, huh?”

Gunn, Wes, and Illyria headed to the door as Angel and Spike watched on, Spike drifting closer to Angel as the others spoke.

“Try not to die. You are not unpleasant to my eyes.”

“Uh, thanks. You...try not to die too.”

Angel quirked a brow over at Spike at that exchange and Spike merely smirked back at him. Neither vampire even wanted to try to work out Illyria’s thoughts. The three fighters by the door looked between each other, Wes and Gunn shaking hands with a sense of finality that spread across the room.

“Later, then”, Gunn spoke directly to Wes as he left, the shared grief over the woman they both had lost palpable between them, a bond unlike any other.

Wes turned back in the doorway and cast a meaningful look over at Angel and nodded imperceptibly, before he and Illyria followed Charles up the stairs. Angel relaxed minutely as Spike stepped up next to him to watch them leave.

“What do you think all this means for that Shanshu bugaboo?” Angel folded his arms as Spike spoke, his mind flitting back to the meeting with the Circle. “We make it through this, does one of us get to be a real boy?”

“Who you kidding? We’re not gonna make it through.” 

Spike scoffed, able to tell that Angel didn’t mean it.

“Well, long as it’s not you”, he teased, smirking when Angel rolled his eyes. 

“Doubt this would even count as the apocalypse it refers to anyway, Spike. We’re going to be the focus of the destruction, not the world. And, even then, we haven’t lived through the countless plagues mentioned in the prophecy.”

“Mm, true. Though, I think the Whirlwind may have counted as one of said plagues, given the body count we racked up.” Spike could smell the tension rolling off of Angel in thick waves and gave him a look-over, not ready to force his gaze away yet. “Say, you think we got a few minutes before we have to part ways? You seem to be in need of a bit of relaxing, luv, and I could do with a refresher of what it is I’m fighting for.”

Angel let out a soft growl, nostrils flaring as he scented Spike’s growing arousal. Before he knew it was coming, Spike found himself laid out on the threadbare couch, Angel hovering over him as he settled between his legs.

“Think I can spare ten minutes.”

“You’re not goin’ after Sebassis, are you? Not if you’ve got even that much flexibility in your schedule.”

“Always were so astute, Will. No, the Archduke’s already dead by now; it’s Hamilton I need to dispatch, now did you want to talk some more, or,” Angel palmed at Spike’s groin, pulling a moan from the blonde’s lips, “did you want to use the next eight minutes and thirty seconds helping me ‘relax’?”

“Fuck, Angel, what is it with you and bloody couches…”

Angel can smell Spike’s blood, even over the rain, feels the pull of the Claim urging him towards the end of the alley. Spike can hear Angel’s light footsteps, can smell the blood, his and Hamilton’s, and Connor’s lingering scent. He hopes the boy is safely away, for Angel’s sake. Family means everything to Angel just as it does him, even if the elder vampire was more reluctant to admit it, and Spike couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if they were to pull through this just for Angel to find out his son was lost. He waits till he hears the faint clink of chain-link as Angel reaches the fence before stepping out of the shadows. 

“Boo.”

Angel turns to face him, relief etched on his face. Spike steps up to him, leaning up to flick his tongue over the cut on his cheek to clean away the blood there before nuzzling him briefly. Angel’s fingers slip through his as they pull apart, dual purrs of reassurance just audible over the sound of the rain, each one trying to put the other at ease despite their own building discomforts as time passes without the others appearing.

“Anyone else?”

“Not so far. You feel the heat?” Spike can feel Angel’s nervousness wafting off of him, the rain doing nothing to temper the adrenaline rushing through them both, and presses closer to him.

“It’s comin’.” 

Angel dips his head to capture Spike’s lips in a fleeting kiss before pulling back. Spike tilts his face up into the rain briefly before speaking again. The Claim is screaming at him to drag Angel away to safety but he tamps it down, assures himself once more of the elder vampire’s ability to hold his own.

“Finally got ourselves a decent brawl.”

They’re so focused on each other, assessing their wounds, their emotions, they fail to hear or smell Gunn’s approach until his voice fills the air.

“Damn!” They both turned their heads to see Charles jogging up the alley towards them. “How’d I know the fang boys would pull through?” 

Angel and Spike hurry towards Gunn as he slows, his face drawn up in pain. 

“You’re lucky we’re on the same side, dogs, ‘cause I was on fire tonight. My game was...tight.”

Gunn came to a stop as they reached him, and they helped him to sit back against the alley wall, the smell of his blood reaching their noses over the rain. Gunn clutched his side with a grimace, blood seeping through his fingers.

“Supposed to wear that red stuff on the inside, Charlie boy.” Spike and Angel share a worried glance.

“Any word on Wes?”

Spike shook his head just as Illyria dropped from the roof of the building on the opposite side of the alley, landing in front of the battered trio.

“Wesley’s dead.” The three of them looked down in dismay. Spike and Angel both smell the faint trace of tears coming from her, and feel a pang of sadness and more than a little surprise at Illyria’s display of emotion. “I’m feeling grief for him. I can’t seem to control it. I wish to do more violence.” 

Spike hears the shouts and cries of the Senior Partners demon hordes growing closer and looks over at her, hardening himself for the closing battle. 

“Well, wishes just happen to be horses today.”

Angel looked up and beyond Spike, and sees the giant horde entering the alley. Various demons and monstrous creatures are making their way closer to them, boxing them in.

“Among other things.” Angel looked up at the sound of a loud screech and spotted a dragon flapping its leathery wings overhead.

“Okay. You take the 30,000 on the left”, Gunn’s voice quavers despite himself as he tries to be glib about the insurmountable odds before them.

Illyria wonders at the young human’s surprising conviction as he attempts the joke.

“You’re fading. You’ll last ten minutes at best.” 

Charles struggles to stand as the others face the demon army standing at the ready less than thirty feet away. 

“Then let’s make them memorable.”

The four of them take their stance across the width of the alley, steeling themselves for the fight.

“And in terms of a plan?” Spike directed his question at Angel, memories of past battles leading him to defer to the brunette.

“We fight.”

“Bit more specific?”

Angel stepped out in front of the others, doing his best to provide a protective shield, his every nerve tuned towards Spike’s position just slightly behind him and off to his right. 

”Well, personally, I kinda wanna slay the dragon.” The horde rushed towards them, and Angel braced his stance. “Let’s go to work.” 

He raised his sword as the army fell upon them, his Childe and the last vestiges of his family stepping into place beside him.

~~~~~

@thewhiterabbit42​ @prose-for-hire​ @highonbandcandy​ @laurensshitpost​ 

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

Spoilers: Futility 4x22

Trigger warnings: references to sexual assault and murder, angry sex, biting, marking

Evocations: XIII

Going through the motions and the paperwork after finding Gardner dead in Erin Goss' living room seemed to take a long, long time. When Olivia finally let herself into the apartment, it was so late that Sky High didn't even budge from the sofa when the door clicked open and then softly shut.

But Alex was still up. Noises drifting out of the kitchen drew Liv in that direction, where she found the blonde amid a disastrous mess of baking supplies. Open cannisters, boxes and bags were everywhere; flour, drips of mixtures, dropped chocolate chips, and empty egg shells ran from one end of the island to the other.

Alexandra baked when she was angry.

That was fine by Olivia, as they both had plenty to be angry about. The Gardner case had been a thorn in their side right from the beginning, and now it had ended less than optimally - to say the least. A rapist was dead but dead wasn't exactly justice, and none of them really believed that Erin had been defending herself.

Luck had been on Alex and Olivia's sides in the two years they had been together, in that they hadn't gone to the mat over cases very often. It was often commented on by those who knew they were together, how unusual this was.

"He's dead," Liv said flatly.

"So I heard," Alexandra replied, hands on her hips as she blew a section of blonde hair off her forehead.

Five rapes, three indictments dismissed, now a murder, and the perpetrator was dead. They were going to the mat this time, and they both knew it. Had known it since Alex had blown up over Gardner's motion to call Bethany to the stand. Very little of it was about pride; it was about the futility of it, of all the energy expended trying to protect the women, only to have things fall apart. Both women felt impotent, everything they had tried having only resulted in further complications.

"She was sleeping with him," Liv added.

Alex snorted, wiping her hands on her apron. "Well that was obvious."

The oven timer went off, and Alex slipped on oven mitts, yanking a tray of cookies out. Sighing, Olivia slumped into one of the bar chairs at the island.

"We never should have had Carrie waive her privacy," Alex tossed out.

"So the jury could have deadlocked over the ID? It still would have given him the chance to run and kill that woman."

"That woman would still be alive if we had done our jobs!" Alex slammed a spatula against the counter, every inch of her tall body wound tight with anger and inexpressible sadness.

"We did do our jobs!"

It wasn't that Olivia didn't understand; just two nights before she had been singing the same tune to Elliot, about the fine line between doing the right thing, and doing too many right things. There was just no soft place to land when they were both feeling like this.

"I can't do this anymore," Alexandra said tersely. Liv stilled in her seat, her heartrate leaping. "It's bad enough that I never know when you're going to come home with bruises from some predator attacking you. If I can't get justice for the victims, I'm failing on both fronts."

"Alex, I can take care of myself."

"Not always."

"Most of the time," Liv insisted. Alexandra made an irritated noise in her throat and flipped pages in her cookbook angrily. "If you want to drop SVU, nobody's stopping you," Olivia told her then, taking a page from Elliot's book.

Alex scoffed openly at that.

Liv rose from her chair and rounded the corner of the island counter. "Hey, it's true! Just because you're the best ADA that the unit has ever had, doesn't mean you can't move on. But I know exactly what I signed up for - and the bottom line is, a lot of the time this job is hell. That's not going to change."

The truth of the statement hung in the air between them.

"You don't get it, do you?!" Alex snapped, stepping up to the brunette, their sparking, angry gazes meeting. "I see what this job does to you - to us - and I can't lose you. I can't."

Alex's hand grabbed Liv's forearm, fingertips biting into the skin with the force of fear and guilt and anger. Worse, though, was that Olivia did understand; she knew exactly what the pressures of their jobs was doing to their relationship. It kept her awake some nights, wondering how long they could both sustain things.

Liv put her hand over Alex's and attempted to pry the fingers away, which resulted only in Alex's other hand, locking onto her bicep and pushing her hard against the counter.

"Alex," Liv warned, but it was obvious from the blonde's stormy gaze that it wasn't going to do any good.

Alex tightened her grip so that Olivia couldn't raise her arms, and leaned in, dragging frustrated kisses along the lines of the brunette's throat. The kisses included plenty of teeth, nipping and scraping the skin, leaving red marks in their wake.

Liv struggled under the weight of Alex's body pushing her, both women breathing angrily and fast. "For fuck sake, Alex!"

The blonde sank her hands into Liv's short dark hair and pulled, dragging a hiss from her throat before she clamped a hard kiss onto her mouth. Their fear, and impotence and exhaustion with the case poured into their angry touching, ramping up with every motion.

Olivia yanked at the apron that Alex was still wearing, her hands fighting to untie the strings as Alex tried to keep her pinned. Changing tactics, Liv used her weight against her, pushing forward and away from the island altogether. They stumbled across the space between the counter and the refrigerator, crashing into the appliance and sending magnets clacking to the floor.

Grunting with surprise, Alex steadied herself and fisted the bottom of Olivia's shirt into her hands, tugging it swiftly up over Liv's head and off, shoving her backward. The brunette crashed back against the island where Alex immediately pinned her with another kiss.

Olivia bit into the blonde's bottom lip, and Alex drew back, eyes wide. "Christ!" Blood welled where teeth had cut, and when the kiss began again, Liv sucked it clean.

The apron was finally untied and, Liv's hands slid down Alexandra's back, pulling her sweater up, wrestling to get it off. When it was gone, more biting followed, over the blonde's neck and shoulders until she was slapping Olivia's hands down. Pushing her in her hold, Alex got her turned around so that she was facing the counter.

One hand slid up Liv's back, curling to a stop at her neck, holding her in place while the other hand snaked around Liv's waist to open her pants. They had never really done this - fucked out of anger, out of fear - and it felt dangerous and electric. Alex's hand manoeuvred into Olivia's pants as she struggled, and when she was met with clamped thighs, she brought her knee up to wedge between her legs from behind.

"Fuck you!" Olivia panted.

Alexandra dropped her mouth to the warm skin of Liv's back and bit her there. "That's what I'm doing," she told her evenly. Spreading Olivia open with her long fingers, Alex stroked mercilessly over the swollen clit she found there.

"Fff-agghh!" Liv cried angrily, her forehead against the cool marble of the countertop.

The blonde released her grip long enough to jerk pants and underwear down together, then sank her fingers into Olivia's hair while the other hand stroked at the dripping wet heat of her entrance from behind. Both women growled unintelligibly when Alexandra filled Liv with her fingers.

She was not gentle, nor did Olivia want her to be, as Alex pulled her head back by the hair and fucked into her hard enough to stutter her feet forward on the floor. Liv stretched her arms across the island, fingers slipping on spilled flour and other sticky ingredients.

"You're going to come for me," Alex panted, then groaned at the responding clench of Liv's cunt around her fingers.

"Fuck . . . fuck!" It seemed to be the only working word left in Olivia's vocabulary.

Come she certainly did, screaming with anger, with relief, while trying to thrust into Alex's fingers yet somehow away from them all at once. Before Liv had barely caught her breath, she spun on the tall blonde and grabbed her with both hands, planted on either side of her ribcage.

Trailing remnants of flour and sugar in their wake, Liv shoved her hands beneath the bra Alexandra had on, squeezing her breasts gracelessly, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her hiss in pain. Then Alex's mouth was on Liv's again, her arms encircled her waist and she hoisted her onto the counter.

Olivia sank another bite into the blonde's throat, her hands working to get the bra off. When she succeeded, she raked her nails down Alex's back, getting a roar of lustful anger in response. For the first moment since they'd started, Alex stepped away from her, their eyes still locked like dogs growling through a fence.

She popped the button on her pants, unzipped and shoved her pants off her hips to the floor, kicking out of them. The scratches down her back were hot and stinging as she stepped back up to Olivia and brushed her lips close to her ear.

"Fuck me," she breathed, then bit down on Liv's earlobe.

"Make me," Liv rasped out, shivering as the bite was followed by Alexandra's hot tongue.

"My pleasure." The blonde grabbed one of Liv's wrists and pulled, dragging it low and forcing the fingers to uncurl.

As soon as her fingers made contact with the damp, wiry curls between the blonde's thighs, Olivia's resistance evaporated. Her fingers straightened so Alex could guide them where she wanted them, and where Alex wanted them was deep inside her. Then Liv took over, withdrawing and then sinking her fingers back in to the hilt, over and over again.

The last of their anger and fear burned down as the sound of Liv fucking Alex filled the kitchen, not stopping until the blonde was quaking and dripping and gasping for mercy.

.

.

"Another cookie?" Alex asked quietly.

"Mm, yes please," Liv nodded against Alex's chest.

Alexandra reached across to the plate of cookies that they'd rested on the toilet cover and took one, passing it off to the slippery, wet brunette that was atop her in the hot bath.

They had been there a long while, reheating the water each time it cooled, tending to their bites and scratches, washing off flour and sugar remnants. And, of course, eating cookies.

"Lex?" Olivia mumbled, serene but tired.

"Yes?"

"I promise you won't lose me, as long as I can help it."

Alexandra took a deep breath and combed her fingers through Liv's short, wet tresses. "I know, Babe. I know."

[i8jisoo]

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒  ⇉  harry & his son

➢  sweet creature by harry styles 

harry would be holding your son while he giggled, smiling while he reviewed his music. your son had his bottle in his mouth, loosely sucking on it while he was completely infatuated with listening to his father through the speakers. he had just finished releasing his newest album and he was so proud of it, he had invited all of his family to listen to it, you sitting next to him and anne and gemma next to you with the rest of his band-mates.

your son obviously had heard them after nine months of him humming or singing soft to him while he had a hand on your stomach and he kicked in response which harry saw it as a sign that he liked it.

then he sang to him after he was born, only a few hours old and with a big yawn he sang him sweet creature, softly and hummed his little boy to sleep while he cuddled into his chest.

harry loved when your son threw a fit to hear him sing, only calming down at the sound of his fathers voice that was smooth and soft.

he would arrange a lullaby version of sweet creature that he eventually made into a single on it’s own, getting a lot of positive responses from fans who had children of their own

literally best friends, that’s it. even when he turned a hundred days old, he threw his little baby boy a birthday party to celebrate how long he’s been on this earth.

lots of spending on onesies and bibs to accommodate his baby who he insisted only deserved the best clothes and would be the most best dressed baby the world has ever seen

“love, don’t yeh think our puppy wants this?” “see! m’little puppy is so happy now, he loves it.” harry said with a proud smile, fixing his sons little overalls that had a small puppy patched on the front of it and was finished off with large glasses that were obnoxiously big and a pair of gucci shoes.

harry spent every moment he could with his son, forever thankful for you giving him his own family, his little puppy, and helping him in his worst moments. he shared a lot of tears, maybe more than you.

he was crying when he held your test with the ‘five-six weeks pregnant’ boldy presented on the test, full on sobbing when he first heard the heartbeat of his baby. he sobbed even harder when he felt them kick, sharing a cry with you when you saw the blue confetti pour down on you two

he was slightly scared when he was woken up from his sleep to your sniffling, a fat tear dribbling down your cheek. you shared your concerns at thirty-eight weeks of being pregnant, harry resting a hand to where his baby boy was, reasurring you that everything would be fine and that you had nothing to worry about

though those reassurings slipped from your mind, regretting opting for a stupid water birth, you thought. harry behind you and holding your hands while you uneasily groaned out of pain. since you had no fucking medication and you had a grip stronger than harry’s which amazed him and you kept swearing at him, harry giving a small chuckle before switching back to his serious state. “uh huh, love. love you too!” he said after receiving your ‘fuck you’ to him.

when he heard those watery cries while your baby boy rested on your soaked, bra cladded chest, he let a tear drip down his cheek. all he felt was pride and joy now that he could finally say he was a proud dad of his one little boy. he was quick to help cover you and him, keeping you both warm and feeling his sons little red hands that were moving around. also him cutting the umbilical cord was like cutting a red ribbon to him, he felt like he was officially winning a prize and presenting his son to the two midwifes and his family who were soon to be coming over.

at first harry was calling him his little prince, but when he heard his little whimpers, he had immediately thought of a little puppy dog whining. though all the little boy needed was to latch onto his mommy and his small whimpers and whines had calmed down, harry watching in awe while he watched you feed him.

sleepless nights but he enjoyed it very much with his little puppy with him + his little puppy coming to interviews with him and harry taking him out onstage with him to meet his fans. “hi guys! this is m’son! he’s just woken up, but he promises he’ll be good!” he speaks into his microphone, holding his son with the other arm and his son trading his pacifier for harry’s yellow and purple nails. which resulted in harry taking his pointer and middle finger from his lips that were covered in drool, handing him back his pacifier.

“me and m’son are here today t’read some questions! hopefully no naughty ones since he is too sweet for them!” harry would chuckle to himself, bouncing his son in his arms while he clung to him. he smiled in response, his green eyes showing complete happiness while he was embraced.

in the end, harry’s pride and joy was having his perfect little family and happy to grow with you. he couldn’t wait until his little boy grew up, pursuing whatever made him happy and doing whatever made him happy. he never had a problem with giving him whatever he wanted, spoiling him rotten. his little twin with brown curls that had barely come in, big green emerald eyes, and a smile that proudly presented his three teeth had made him drop at his knees for him. he couldn’t want it any different, any different until his son called him ‘dada’ and he REALLY wanted possibly three other babies calling him ‘dada’ or ‘daddy’.

but he didn’t have to wait to soon because you surprised him with his sons new t-shirt, ‘i’m a big brother!’ on his t-shirt, harry turning on the lights in the morning to pick his son up from his crib a few days after getting back from touring, his eyes finally fixating on the print of his shirt, his eyes widening. “puppy! y’knew about this and didn’t tell me? very bad boy, yeh should’ve told me!” he said, rubbing a finger on his tummy before fixing him on his hip which earned him a ‘daddy! fun!’ and a squeal. he hurried back to your shared bedroom where he set your son down on the foot of your bed and he shook you awake. “love, i—“ he caught his breath, “m’gonna take good care of yeh, and puppy too, and m’other baby, okay?” he said, making you rub your eyes and laugh. you kinda hadn’t thought about the negative of getting woken up, your son crawling over to you and harry and hugging you both, harry smushing him between you and him in a hug. “mommy’s having a baby, can you say baby puppy!” he asks, cooing at his son. “baby!” he cackled, you cracking a smile and harry’s heart so full of love that he thought it was going to burst.

he would never forget the day he found out about his puppy or the day he met his puppy, he always made sure to love on him and give him attention and taught him how to love the new baby. harry was so attached to his little puppy that he felt nauseated at the thought of his puppy ever feeling sad about him, his puppy and him were so happy and harry was so proud while watching him grow up into a happy little boy.

[thirsty-x1]

Thirsty | Cho Seungyoun

Request:

Can I request a one shot w syoun where his partner (gf?) fingers him while sucking him off? Only if you’re comfortable with writing that! Thank you xx

↬ Pairing: Seungyoun x fem!reader.

↬ Genre: Smut.

↬ Warnings: explicit language, anal fingering, oral sex.

↬ Word Count: 1.7k+

There were many masterpieces in the world, but you certainly found unfair that your boyfriend’s ass wasn’t considered one of the seven wonders. It was firm and round and tiny, or maybe that’s just how you liked to describe it. He was usually fonder of wearing loose clothes, but the few times you caught him with tight jeans… it was a blessing, and seeing it with no clothes was beyond anyone’s imagination. This being explained, it wasn’t unusual for you to squish it every now and then when you had the chance, usually followed by a grinning Seungyoun shaking his head.

And now it wasn’t any different, your boyfriend sleeping peacefully next to you, his hair all over the pillow as he turned around to change position, your favorite toy in the world coming into view beneath the bed sheets. You slithered down, waiting for the right moment before your hands massaged it softly, your eyebrows shooting up when Seungyoun left a tiny moan that made you stop. After a few seconds, you tried it again, this time more slower, your thumbs caressing the skin of his inner thighs and he trembled slightly while burying his head on the pillow.

Well, that was new.

You went back up, leaving a trail of kisses on his exposed back until you reached the nape of his neck, his small giggle letting you know he was wide awake now.

“Baby…”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to try it?” His ears perked up at the question and he almost hit your head as he got up suddenly. “I remember you saying that it would be interested…”

“But now?” You shrugged and he shook his head. “I- I have to get ready first. Clean and all. So then… tonight?”

A smile played on the corner of your lips as you nodded, not expecting he would agree so quickly to it. Both Seungyoun and you liked to try new things, it was just fun to see how things would turn out, sometimes ending in the best way possible while others became a fun story or a reminder to not go there again, and this was the newest experience: fingering. For Seungyoun. He got tired of listening to some of his friends talk about how amazing it was and of course it picked up his curiosity, so once he brought it up to you in a rather shy way, unusual in him, but quickly said that if you didn’t like it or were disgusted by it, you didn’t need to do it. But how could you say no to something that would bring him pleasure?

You continued with your day as usual, but it was obvious that Seungyoun was nervous about it. Or maybe excited, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. He would walk one way to another, sit down, then get up, eat, then refuse to have dinner a thousand times before he finally went to shower himself, furrowing his brows when you simply laughed at him. If you had to be honest, you were pretty anxious about it as well, the pressure of wanting to make it a good, memorable experience for him was weighing on you but maybe if you acted calmed about it, he would relax too.

After what felt like an eternity, the night came, the slight cold atmosphere doing nothing against your warm body that just came out of shower to find a fidgeting Seungyoun sitting on the bed, playing games on his phone. Teasing him a bit wouldn’t hurt, right? So you let your towel fall to the ground, holding back a smile as you saw how he almost dropped the phone and started drying your hair, not taking your eyes off of the mirror that showed you how Seungyoun struggled to find a comfortable position. You put on the short satin nightdress that he had gifted you and turned around, your boyfriend on his tummy while complaining about losing yet another match until your hands on his thighs made him jolt.

“Are you comfortable?” Your fingers played with the fabric of his briefs, noticing his muscles tighten in anticipation to your every touch. “I think you need to relax a bit.”

It didn’t took much to know how Seungyoun was feeling; he was an open book and his thoughts would always reflect on his body. You massaged his legs slowly, running your hands up his thighs while avoiding his butt on purpose and continuing with his back, sitting on the low part of it to apply some pressure on his shoulders. After a few minutes, he stopped being so tense, his breathing stabilizing and gave you a small thumbs up as if to tell you he was feeling better now.

You stood up and he turned around, sitting and quickly bringing you to him as he pressed your lips together, this time him being the one melting you. He pulled you closer, having you straddle his hips just in time to let you feel his hard on.

“Stop teasing me so much.” His voice was barely a whisper against your lips, your hand on his chest letting you feel his heart beating faster as he noticed your nails thoroughly trimmed.

Without saying a word, you kissed down his chest, lingering for a few seconds on the tattoos on your way before pulling down his underwear to let his cock spring out, the precum already leaking off the tip. It was a first to see him this turned on at trying something new, so you lost no time in taking him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before following the vein on the underside of his shaft. When you looked up, his eyes were fixed on you, his lips slightly parted as he sighed at your movements.

“Can you pass me the lube, baby?” You saw his face change in a hundred colors before stuttering a small “yes” and grab the bottle next to him and hand it to you.

Getting into your knees, you changed your position and gripped his thighs while pulling a bit on him, his eyes opening wide at the new exposure before he tried to cover himself and failed on it. His hands were covering his face but the redness on his ears gave him away, and you couldn’t help but to giggle at his reaction. Somehow, it made you soften while feeling more powerful, it being the first time that Seungyoun had gotten this embarrassed with you in the most adorable way. You let go of one of his legs and squirted a bit of the lube into your fingers, his head popping up at the sound.

“W-wait…” You stopped immediately, the view resulting comedy worthy.

“Is everything alright? Do you want to stop?”

He shook his head furiously. “No, but… b-be gentle with me, please.”

A shiver ran down your spine when you saw him so vulnerable, his voice thin and higher than usual. You nodded, giving a reassuring squeeze to his thigh before circling his entrance with the cold lube, his body reacting at the temperature almost instantly. Making sure that it was well lubricated, you put a bit more in your fingers and went back to suck on his dick as if trying to distract him from the slight prodding of your fingertip.

“Relax, Seungyoun, everything will be alright.” He seemed to follow your advice for a bit, letting you press a few millimeters in before tightening again. “You won’t shit yourself.”

His laugh filled the room while he got shy, but at least that calmed him down a bit. You took care of each motion, making sure that the stretch didn’t become painful for him, putting more lube each time you felt it was necessary or when he asked you. Before you realized, you had two fingers inside of him, keeping them still as he got used to it. When he showed you he was ready, you started to move the pad of your fingers back and forth, pressing slightly upwards as if you were giving it a massage and checking on him.

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck, wait.” Seeing the worry in your face, he smiled sweetly. “It feels too good and I don’t… I don’t want to cum too fast.”

Maybe you should listen to him, but that was his pride talking. You went back to jerking him off lazily, the palm of your hand teasing his tip before putting it in your mouth again while moving your fingers at the same time. Alternating between shallow thrusts and precise ones, you started to edge him, bobbing your head up and down his length and your ears getting rewarded with his soft moans. The rush of power became stronger and stronger and you stopped sucking on him, wanting to see his expression as you started to stimulate his spot while masturbating him. His head thrown back, his voice getting louder, higher and breathier, the tattoos on his skin revealing the light layer of sweat, his stomach tightening on time with the walls hugging your fingers… everything felt new and intoxicating.

“Look at me, Seungyoun.” He tried his best to comply with your order, his eyes fluttering shut when the sensations overwhelmed him. “Can you be a good boy and cum for me?”

It was the final straw. Seungyoun let out a choked whine when you rubbed the spot again, his cock throbbing in your hand as he came all over his chest, the spurts painting his skin as the muscles kept clenching around your fingers. His body spasmed a bit, his legs shaking as he came down from his high. You carefully took out your fingers from him, placing soft kisses on his skin as he complained at the emptiness. Walking to the bathroom, you washed your hands and got back with a fresh towel, cleaning him and drying the sweat away before laying down next to him.

“How was it? Are you feeling good? Does it hurt?” By the look on his face, you could say he was too far gone, but still he turned around, snuggling against your chest as if seeking for refuge.

“It was amazing, I’m more than fine and it doesn’t hurt now, but I think you did a good job so don’t worry about it.” He pressed a kiss on your neck. “Thank you.”

You laughed and played with his hair. “You looked adorable. I want to have you like that more often.”

He pulled away to stare at you. “Just you wait until I gain some strength and I will definitely take revenge.”

This feels short but I loved writing it! Thank you so much for requesting jsdakd damn I want to peg them cOUGH

~Nani

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[stardancerluv]

Just Desserts

Summary: You’re busy and Roman has time on his hands...not sure that is a good thing.

Warning: Fluff, Smut, Smacking, Fingering, a short Handjob, Sex & food flying (photos of young Ewan/Roman hehehe are from the film be stared in called Young Adam)

Side story to Creative Fervor

You blew your hair out of your eyes for what felt like the millionth time. Going to your bedroom, you snuck into the bathroom. You found a black hair tie beside your brush. You smiled putting your hair into a ponytail.

Leaving, the bathroom you stopped and looked over at Roman Sionis’s sleeping form, you heart skipped a beat. Not many saw him like this, quiet..peaceful. He looked so good, you mused. How had you gotten so lucky. He was your boyfriend, something you were still getting used to.

You had no real time to enjoy it, these last few weeks you have been passing each other. The briefest of talks. Last night, you both had to be satisfied with a quickie since you had come home so late. You hated that. Sighing you turned and headed back to your studio downstairs. Walking away, a hand grabbed your wrist silently and pulled you back. You easily fell into the blankets and his very welcome lap which you fell across.

“I thought you were sleeping.” You whispered.

He chuckled, “I was about get out of bed when I heard you coming down the hall.” He smiled down at you.

“You are so sneaky.”

He smiled broadly. “I have to be in order to catch you.”

“Well, you certainly caught me.”

He tilted his head from side to side. “I am glad that I did,” He leaned down and kissed you then. You made a soft sound and letting him deepen the kiss. Your wrapped your arms around him, letting your fingers entangle in his sleep rumbled hair.

Not wanting to break it. And it taking all of your will but you gently broke the kiss.

“Y/N...” He breathed.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

He put a finger to your lips, you kissed it. “I’m serious. Don’t promise too lightly.” He chuckled then, smiling. “But I will certainly look forward to it.”

“You better.” Sitting up, you leaned a little on his side as he laid back down.

“Since you have been working so hard, you deserve something.”

“I have you that’s more then enough.” It was true in your opinion.

“Stop, let me make you so something.”

You thought about it. “You can make me some pudding. I love...love custard.”

“Consider it done.”

“You are too good to me.”

He shrugged. “I have my moments.”

“Go and sleep a little longer. Maybe when you awake up again we can have some coffee together.”

“Tempting.” He put his hands behind his head.

The sight made you bite your bottom lip. He always caused knots of desire in you, ever since you woke up hand cuffed in his night club after Zsasz kidnapped you by accident.

“Do it. I know how much you love your sleep.”

If it was one thing you learned about Roman, was that he loved sleeping in, he’d probably be back to sleep in no time.

You on the other hand, couldn’t afford to have another wink of sleep. You were backed up with a slew of projects. You also had a gala that was going to showcase your work as well in the next few weeks. One, had been a another new piece for Penguin, one for Harley Quinn, one for Harvey Dent and lastly one was for Jim Gordon. You were up to your ears with no end in sight.

*****

You happily skipped back to your place. You had gone out to get some swatches approved when you spotted that your favorite bakery had a cake that you adored in the window.

You thought of how Roman had been so patient as of late and went in to grab it. You hoped he’d like it too. You also wanted to celebrate your good news. Harley Quinn doubled the fee she was paying and gave you more time. You could breathe a little. Maybe tonight, you’d a appear on his arm at the club. You could both use it. She had tried to give you advice on how to handle your Romy but you wouldn’t have it and politely left.

*****

Roman, stretched and let out a very fulfilling sigh. Despite being at your place he did sleep very well. He liked it better of course with you curled up to him but with you being so busy he understood. Going to your shower, he washed away the sleep that lingered.

Afterward he got dressed and made his way to your kitchen. He never was one to be hands on but for you, he’d try. He found something to nibble on while looking up what was needed to make the custard for you. It made him roll his eyes. How did people do this, he mused but he got to work. Occasionally, he’s taste it and was happy with how it was progressing. He swelled with pride, he was able to make custard when it was all finished.

After it was done being made he poured it into a bowl. He went and lounged on your sofa he’d wait and bring some down to you.

****

Happy to be back at the studio you stepped out of your heals. Then you shrugged out of your light cardigan, hanging it on the hook your purse followed it. Looking at the display tables, you chose the middle one to put the cake on. Smiling, you moved it till you thought it looked just right.

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?”

You jumped as you heard his voice, you had not seen him, you thought he’d still be upstairs.

“And...” He pointed to the cake. “What the fuck is that?”

Taking, a breath you finally took all of him in as he sat on what looked like your chair. He was delightfully sexy with a very masculine air. It made your heart skip a beat. He had the posture, he usually exuded at the club. It spoke of him owning it all. Though there was something under the surface, he was upset. “It’s a cake.”

“And why do you have a cake? He got up, he went into the place that is where you drew your designs. He came out carrying a bowl. Oh shit, you thought to yourself.

“I made you custard.” He paused. “Don’t you remember I said you deserved something?”

You nodded...”I do..I do now.” To be honest, you’d never tell him but you didn’t think he’d actually do it. Maybe order it but never make it.

“I put alot of time into this custard.”

His words broke her heart. “I...Roman, I am so sorry.”

“You are going to eat it.”

“I will, I can’t eat all of it.” He drew closer. “Roman, I am so sorry I bought the cake.”

“I know what I will do with it then.”

“What?” You put a hand on your hip.

Before you could move, he threw all the custard at you. You squealed loudly as you were covered with the chocolate.

“Come here.” He said, darkly. The tone of his voice instantly aroused you, despite having custard dripping and sliding down your body. “Get down on all fours.”

“What?” You brushed back some of your hair that had gotten the brunt of the custard out of your face.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“Ok, ok.” Careful, not to slip in the you did as he wanted.

He knelt beside you, you felt as he lifted your skirt and tore down your panties.

“What are you doing?” You managed to ask as you looked back. Then you saw, quickly you looked straight ahead and braced yourself. You whimpered as he hand connected with your skin. He did it a few more times. As the pain ran through you, your desire heightened.

“Roman, please.” You begged, “I am so sorry.”

He didn’t seem to be listening. He got up and went over to where the cake sat. “You will not be having at of this either!” He grabbed pieces of the cake and started to throw them at you. You started laughing.

“Roman...” You turned to face him, wiggling you pushed and then kicked off your panties. He managed to hit with more pieces of the cake. lYou put a hand up. He grabbed a piece, then came and knelt beside you. “Eat it.” He commanded, holding a piece in front of you. He joined you in eating it. Your eyes met his as you both ate it.

Reaching out you moaned as you felt just how hard he was. Your hand move up and down his length. His head tilted back as he moaned. “Feel good?” You asked demurely. You rubbed more. “Fuck.” he managed to groan, you saw as he swallowed, you longed to lick his throat. He looked at you, his eyes were burning. You pulled off your blouse and bra together.

He threw the piece of cake on the floor beside you. He pulled off his shirt. Laying down next to him, you bent your knees and opened yourself to him. He reached under your skirt then, he smirked. You gasped loudly when with no warning two of his fingers slid right into you. Keeping your eyes locked with his, let your hand rub his hardness that was straining against his slacks. “Roman, please.” You begged.

A sharp sound escaped your lips as he pulled his fingers out. “Your hungry for me, aren’t you?” You nodded. He grabbed and moved you so your open legs were suddenly on either side of him. He unceremoniously, opened his pants and entered you. Both of you gasping. Then moving and remaining deep with in you , he was over you. Your legs were wrapped around his hips. He just slammed into you, then you began to move with him. Damn, you both needed this so much. You grasped onto him, hoping you didn’t scratch. Your moans mingled as you quickened your movements.

“I am close...so close.” You whimpered.

“Are ya?” He looked at you, determination making his features look as sharp as a razor’s edge.

“Yes, please.” You begged. “Please let me cum around your hard cock.

He smirked. “Go ahead baby, just remember it was me making you cum.

“Yes, yes.” you whimpered, you moaned. You pulled him in for a passion kiss. The hunger the two of you shared came through in the kiss. “Roman....” you finally screamed as you came arching and writhing under him.

His moans, became indistinct. He loved riding you so much. He called out your name as he came hard deep within you. Together you wilted under all of that passion, finally released.

*****

“I can’t believe you did that.” You said finally, as you nestled close to the crook of his throat. Enjoying his warmth and just how good he smelled just there. You kissed his shoulder. Your bed was much more comfortable their your studio floor.

“Something, about you bringing home the cale set me off.” He admitted, as he caressed your arm as he pulled it across him.

“I’m sorry about that, I’m sure it was a lovely pudding.

“It was.” He gave you a squeeze.

“Roman,” you let your hand drift to hi stomach, caressing it just a little. “Did I fulfill my promise?”

Turning to meet your eyes, he smirked. “Well...there is something...”

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obession @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @starwarsprequelfangirl @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @top-rumbelle-fan

@nomnomnomnamja

[dimpled-gukkie]

Blossom Preview

Warning: violence, foul language, implied sex, descriptions of murder 

A/n: This is just a snippet of the yoongi/jungkook gang au I’m working on

The bell above you chimes as you enter the flower shop, the tension in your shoulders leaving as soon as you smell the floral scent. Ever since you were little you’ve loved flowers, earning yourself the name blossom. It’s a little ironic to be named after something so delicate in your profession but you prefer the irony. Nothing like showing those arrogant little boys how the big girls play. Your eyes dart to the yellow roses sitting in the corner and carefully you make your way over there, your boots thudding as you walk. You take a brief moment to brush the pad of your finger over the soft petal, pondering taking them home. The sound of approaching footsteps startles you and you jerk away from the flowers, the small smile on your face morphing into a scowl and eyes hardening. 

When the figure rounds the corner, you don’t even offer them a greeting before blurting out, “I need three bunches of monkshood.” 

“Ahh, so I see common courtesy isn’t your forte.” The figure smiles sharply at you, eyes glinting like the point of the knife tucked into your belt. You grunt and roll your eyes, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him down. The man holds your gaze, brown eyes darkening to nearly black, his body language matching your own. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he holds your gaze for a beat longer before sighing and turning away. Only then do you let your guard down enough to take in the man before you. He has platinum blonde hair, the strands nearly white, and his dark roots peak through when he leans forward to wrap your bouquet. He’s wearing a white sweater and a simple silver bracelet although it looks quite expensive. He must have some other business besides this hole-in-the-wall florist shop. Like he feels your eyes on him he looks up and for the first time in a long time you feel intimidated.”That’ll be $30.” He says gruffly, punching the number into the register before turning it towards you. 

Your eyes flick to the spot where he grabbed them, the sign reading ‘$5 a bundle’ catching your attention. 

“The sign says 5 per bundle.” 

“I’m charging extra for pain and suffering.” He deadpans, sticking his hand out to you, palm open. If this were in your area you’d have him on his knees with a knife to his throat and him begging for mercy by now. The disrespect and attitude he’s giving you is infuriating and yet you do nothing. Well, maybe you’ll do something later. You’re in a hurry. 

“I don’t think that’s legal.” 

“I don’t think buying flowers that mean death is near signifies you’re doing something legal either.” Touché. You don’t say anything else to him, throwing the money on the counter before swiping the flowers and storming off. “Hope to see you again sometime!” He calls, the sarcasm so pointed that you feel it cut right through you. 

The bundle of flowers is clutched tightly in your hands, the brown wrapping crinkling as you shift the bouquet from hand to hand. Jungkook is late and you’re running on a tight schedule. “Where is that prick.” You mumble to yourself, jumping when lips press against the shell of your ear. 

“You talking about me sweetheart?” Jungkook whispers, laughing breathily as you shove him away from you.

“You’re late.” You deadpan, already heading inside. The security men on the main floor of the building pay you no mind as you head straight for the elevators, their heads turning in the opposite direction as you wait for the doors to open. 

“Time is relative you know, maybe you’re just early.” Jungkook winks, a smirk pulling at his lips. You roll your eyes and press the button for the top floor, repeatedly pushing the button for the doors to close. 

“I think you’re confused. It’s me who calls the shots not you.” His smirk widens, eyes darkening as he shoves you against the elevator wall, his body flush against your own. 

“That so?” He quirks a dark eyebrow up, his midnight eyes boring into your own. The lust swirling in them makes heat pool in your stomach and you struggle to hold his intense gaze. Your pride makes you lean forward, your eyes fluttering at the proximity. Your lips are a centimeter from his own and you find joy in the way he sucks in a shaky breath. 

“If I say you’re late, you’re late.” You whisper, relishing in the way your lips brush his own with each syllable. When you pull away, Jungkook licks his lips and his cheeks are now the same color. “What?” You smirk back at him, placing a hand on his chest. You can feel his heart pounding against it, the elevator static with the electricity buzzing between you two. “Cat got your tongue?” You ask, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you lean your upper back against the wall. 

Jungkook glares, a warm hand wrapping around your waist and landing on your lower back, harshly pulling you into him. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he presses his lips against your own. Hungrily he pries your lips apart with his own, his hands gripping your hips as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He groans and your hand moves to the nape of his neck to pull at strands of his hair. It’s been so long since you’ve last kissed, neither of you finding time to be alone since the last time your group went out. You missed the weight of his hands on you, the heat of his body pressed against your own. 

The elevator dings and it takes everything in you to pull away, especially when Jungkook looks like pure sin. His lips are swollen and bright pink, hair mussed in the back from your fingers. You swallow loudly as you stare at him, the movement of the doors beginning to close catching your attention. Jutting your hand out, you slip out of the elevators when the doors reopen not checking if Jungkook is following. You know he is, you can feel his heavy stare on your back. You check your reflection in a nearby window, smoothing out your clothes and hair. Your eyes linger on Jungkook’s reflection behind your own, standing tall and protective behind you. 

You ache to reach behind you and grab your hand in his own, to claim him as yours and you his, but as you feel the uncomfortable press of your knives on your thighs you know it’s impossible. You and Jungkook will never amount to anything more than lost lovers, broken souls taking comfort in each other. He’s your temporary home, one that’s always on the verge of foreclosure. You can’t have him forever and it keeps you awake at night.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder before retracting it. 

“Just fine.” You snip, adjusting your clothes one final time before heading into the board room. “Hi boys.” You smile, taking a seat at the head of the table as Jungkook flanks you. 

“You’re late.” The man across from you snarls, and you throw the bouquet to him. 

“Got you a present. Besides, isn’t time relative?” You can hear Jungkook snicker behind you and you smirk. The man across from you looks you over slowly, and you cock your head at him. “Can I help you?” You growl just wanting to get this over with. 

“Next time you want to have a quickie before a meeting, make sure to fix your appearance.” 

“The fuck you just say to her?” Jungkook growls, his gun cocked and loaded before you can even blink. The man appears to be unphased by the gun aimed between his eyes but you can see the slight tremor in his body. You raise your hand to Jungkook and he reluctantly drops his arm down but keeps the weapon at his side. Standing you smile at the man, brandishing the knife you’d been holding since he looked at you funny.  

“What was that?” You ask, coming behind him to place the blade against his throat. He swallows, gasping slightly when the knife presses into his skin and a trickle of blood flows down his neck. “Sorry I didn’t hear you. I think you’re gonna have to repeat it.” You say lowly. 

“I-I said you- you look lovely!” He stammers and you nod at Jungkook stepping away from the man and returning to the head of the table. The man visibly relaxes his hand coming up to his neck to press against his small cut. 

“You wanna know something?” You ask him and he and his colleagues nod frantically in a means to appease you. “I hate liars.” As soon as the words leave your lips a bullet is in between the man’s eyes and his body slumps back in the chair. The two men flanking him are frozen before they turn to you with wide eyes, pleas leaving their lips so quickly they’re unintelligible. “Enough! Do you know why I’m here?” You ask and the man on the right smiles weakly. 

“To bring us flowers?” He tries to joke, laughing awkwardly before closing his eyes at the sharp look on your face. 

“You know why I bring flowers? It’s not just because they call me Blossom.” The mens' eyebrows draw together and you smile wickedly at them. “I bring them as a way of warning. If only people studied their meanings.” You drawl, walking around the room to grab the bouquet. You wipe the blood staining its brown wrapping on the nearest man’s jacket sleeve and bring it back with you to Jungkook. “You know what these mean?” You ask and both men shake their head making your smile widen. “Death.” Another knife lands in the man to your right’s chest and he slumps into the chair, his eyes still wide open. You might close them later, it’s creeping you out. The last man standing shakes violently in his chair and you place the flowers back down on the table. “So tell me, just what happened to my last shipment?” 

“I-I don’t know.” His voice shakes and a small part of you pities the man. What a horrible way to die.

“Jungkook did I not say I didn’t like liars?” You ask and Jungkook grunts lowly. 

“You did.” 

“So tell me, just why did my shipment go to cypher? And just where did my money go?” 

“I-I don’t know. Boss mentioned something about them paying a higher amount. I- I had no part in it, I swear.” 

“So you sold my order.” 

“Ye-yes.” The man puts his head down in shame and you nod acceptingly. 

“So where’s my money?” You ask, grabbing the man by the back of the neck to pull his head back up. 

“Processed already. They-they probably used it to buy more equipment for the weaponry.”

“I’m sure you know I want it back. So what’s the password to the account?” 

“killerpt.3.” You let go of the man as he trembles and text the password to Taehyung, your resident hacker. He’s lucky and can do all his work from home and you smile at the thought of all the money that’ll be in your account when you get there. You’re gonna milk the place dry. “Any last words?” 

“What?” The man exclaims but the feeling of Jungkook’s gun placed against his skull quiets him. “But I told you the password.” You can’t look at him in the eyes so you turn away, hand on the door. 

“Yeah but you still lied and I hate liars.” The only thing you can hear is Jungkook’s finger pulling the trigger, the silencer doing its job and not alerting the other workers to the murders that just occurred. “Call Jimin to come down and finish the boss off. This is as many killings as I can take today.” You murmur to Jungkook, leaving the room quickly. 

You end up walking home, wanting to busy yourself rather than sit in a car and relive what just happened. You should be okay with homicide, immune to guilt, but the human part of you is horrified by each murder you commit. You can’t stand to look at your hands, the metaphorical blood caked on so thick that they’re a twisted maroon color. Feeling your hands shaking you clench them tightly at your sides, trying to steady your breathing and relax. In your business you can’t show an ounce of weakness, a sliver of vulnerability, because the snakes around you will exploit it. The only person who’s really seen the real part of you, Y/n, is Jungkook. Jungkook is the only one who can slip off your mask, see the scarred and broken girl hidden behind the name Blossom. But because of who you are, the monstrosity of your mask, he’ll never give you what you want. He’ll never make a life with you. You’re just the girl he sees behind closed doors, the one he only whispers he loves to amongst bedsheets. And the lonely part of you clings onto this, your love for him drowning out the doubt, the fear of the heartbreak to come. Because as much as you wish for it, Jungkook’s loyalties will never lie with you. 

A car honks at you as you continue you walk down the street and you roll your eyes expecting Jungkook to be hanging out the driver’s window but stiffen when you notice a pistol instead. You drop to the floor in a second, the glass from the window behind you shattering on top of your body. Shaking from adrenaline and fear of being alone with a gunmen you push yourself off the ground, wincing as the glass cuts into your hands and take off down the street in the opposite direction. You can hear tires screeching as the car u-turns and push yourself to run faster, hands fumbling with your phone as you call Jungkook on speed dial. He picks up instantly and you strain to focus on his words while trying to find a shop to duck into. “Hey where are you? You okay?” Jungkook asks as gun shots ring behind you. You gotta find a place to hide and fast. “Shit. Are those gunshots? Where are you!” Jungkook yells and you recite the nearest street name as you turn to run down it. You spot the flower shop from earlier and sprint towards it, not bothering to try and listen to Jungkook. “Y/n? Y/n!” Jungkook screams as you slide onto the floral shop’s floor as the car speeds by. Panting you lay on the floor, the phone lying limp in your hand. Jungkook’s now talking to himself, a string of curse words leaving his mouth. You smile a little, heart warmed by the fact that he’s worried. 

Bringing the phone to your ear you mumble, “I’m fine.” He lets out a loud sigh of relief before demanding your location. “Uhhh… I don’t know the name actually. Just the flower shop on the same street.” 

“Is there a reason why you’re laying on my floor?” A deep voice rumbles and you crane your neck to find the snarky blonde from earlier. Groaning you lay your head back down ignoring him. He taps you with his shoe repeatedly making you swat his leg away. “Get up. You’re making my floors dirty.” Glaring at him you reluctantly stand up, moving to crouch behind the bunches of flowers in case the car circles back around. “Is someone after you or something?” Yoongi asks skeptically. Turning away from the window you stare at him and he sighs before running a hand through his hair almost nervously. “You get ten minutes before I want you out. I don’t need anyone like that coming here.” You’re not sure what Yoongi means when he says anyone like that but the slight worry in his eyes intrigues you. You glance back to his rolex that’s at least $10k and can’t help but wonder if flower boy is more than just your local florist. 

True to his word flower boy lets you stay for ten minutes exactly before pushing you out of his shop like some unwanted animal. Jungkook stops the car in the middle of the street, getting out to pull you into his arms. He lets out a shaky sigh, almost like he’d been crying, and you can’t help the way your heart stutters. Maybe you and Jungkook do have a chance. You don’t get long to ponder it though because he pulls away just as quickly, nodding to flower boy who stands in the doorway of the shop before climbing back inside the car. His face is expressionless and makes you a little uneasy. “Thanks for harboring me flower boy.” You joke and he rolls his eyes. 

“Just what I need, a fugitive on the run.” He says dryly. The corners of his mouth quirk up and you grin at him. 

“I’ll see you around flower boy.” 

“Yoongi!” He yells over Jungkook’s honking as you turn to get back in the vehicle. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks, his jaw ticking. His fingers tap against the steering wheel in an annoyed manner and you lean back against your window to smirk at him. 

“Be careful there Jeon, some people might think you’re jealous.” He glares at you and you giggle. “Aww do you care about me?” You tease, reaching over the center console to pinch his cheek. He slaps your hand away and flips you off which only makes you laugh harder. When you settle down and wipe the tears from your eyes you say, “he’s the owner of the shop. I think we’re friends.” 

“You have a friend? I’m shocked.” You slap his bicep, completely offended. 

“I mean we’re friends aren’t we?” 

“Yeah. Friends.” Jungkook says the word pointedly, almost like it’s left a bad taste in his mouth which confuses you. It was his decision to stay friends, saying he could only be friends with benefits at most. But now he says the word like he wants more. Does he? Or was he simply reminding you of what you both are? What you’ll only ever be. Why does this have to be so confusing? 

“Jungkook I-“ 

“Get down.” Jungkook interrupts and your eyes widen. Twice in one day? Well you shouldn’t be surprised since you’re the leader of a big gang and all. Folding your upper half against your thighs you hold your breath, your heart racing in your chest. Even though you’ve faced near death many times, you’ll never get comfortable with death knocking on your doorstep. Ironic since you’re a killer yourself. You should be comfortable with dying and yet it’s one of the things you’re scared of the most. But you trust Jungkook, so as he gets his gun out of the waistband of his pants you take a deep breath. You’ll be okay as long as he’s with you. Jungkook curses under his breath and you panic when you notice him roll his window down, his gun pointed out of it. Is the car pulling up next to you? Sitting up despite Jungkook’s command you pull out your knives, hoping to at least nail your attacker with one if you and Jungkook are ambushed. In some instances a surprise knife can win in a gun fight. But at least if you and Jungkook do die you’ll die trying. Reaching over you squeeze Jungkook’s hand in reassurance and also to feel his hand in yours for what could be the last time, your chest tightening as the car idles up beside you. The passenger door opens and you launch your knife, blinking confusedly as you hear a voice very similar to Jimin scream. 

“What the hell blossom?” Jimin yells, appearing in front of Jungkook’s window. He pays no mind to the gun resting in front of his face or the surprised look on Jungkook’s, only to the knife lodged in the exterior of his car. “I just got this wrapped.” He whines, stroking the side of his car with a pout. Yanking the knife out with a huff he hands it back to you, reaching into the car to unlock it before climbing into the backseat. “Why would you throw a knife at me?” Jimin asks as the car behind you honks, breaking you and Jungkook out of your haze as he presses on the gas, his gun lying on his lap. You take it from him and stick it in the cupholder, uncomfortable with it lying so freely with the safety off. 

“We thought you were someone else.” You say, looking through the car mirrors. “I got shot at earlier.” 

“Oh really?” Jimin asks excitedly. “It’s been so long since I got any action.” 

“That’s because the last time you got a little too carried away.” You turn in your seat to scold him.

“Okay so I got a little trigger happy, sue me. I got the job done though didn’t I?” Jimin huffs, raising his palms in a defensive manner. 

“Yeah but there was so many casualties that the police thought there was a serial killer on the loose. We don’t need that kind of press.” 

“You make me sound like some kind of psychopath.” Jimin whines and you and Jungkook look at each other knowingly. 

“I hate you both.” Jimin glares with his arms crossed as the two go you burst into laughter.

Let me know your thoughts (what you liked, what you thought could be better even that you just thought it was good). I appreciate all feedback 

[themockingcrows]

Doors of Fate Ch. 9: Coming Clean

This chapter is NOT sfw! Unrelated Striders Unrelated Bro/Dave

This chapter is available on AO3!

Love and romance is in the air aplenty on this mage's honeymoon, but how many times can he keep shadows at bay before they finally are approached by the light of honesty?

     They didn’t discuss the wings that night. It wasn’t so much a refusal to discuss it, but the timing never felt quite right to Dave to ask about it or press a conversation. He wanted to enjoy this vacation for all it was worth while he could, and if that meant letting the feathery elephant in the room be for a while longer, then so be it. He figured he’d just ask Ambrose for details when they got home, and enjoy the time away as much as he could. They’d slept like the dead tangled up with one another, waking a few times as if in a daze, murmuring sweet nothings, and going back to sleep once more.

     He’d woken properly the morning after pressed close to his husband’s chest, and didn’t have the desire to move for quite some time. Well. Not initially at least. The urge to rise and wash came soon enough when he moved and was displeased with the grimy sensation, a hot bath following a quick bit of morning relief and a glass of water to drink. Ambrose awoke in the time it took to fill the tub properly and get everything just right, helping before joining him in the piping hot water.

     “Are you well today?” he asked, sinking down a bit and stretching his legs out on either side of Dave’s body, the shorter spouse keeping his down the middle of the tub close to Ambrose’s groin. He moved a foot pensively, stroking the side of his shaft with a toe, then sighed and sank further down into the deep tub.

     “Yes, I’m well. A bit sore, like an ache I can’t quite place. But there’s nothing wrong.”

     “I worried I’d gone a bit hard with you last night,” Ambrose admitted. “Should’ve gone slower, maybe waited a bit longer.”

     “If we waited any longer I would have exploded,” Dave countered, frowning from where he was relaxing for a moment before letting the worry leave his features. “We waited the right length of time I think. It was everything I’d hoped it would be and more.”

     Ambrose seemed pleased to hear it, subtly patting himself on the back with pride at having been a good introduction to the acts for his spouse. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to be a bad memory for Dave in some way. ..even if a few things had gone off the plan in the end. The memory of the wings haunted him, twisted in his mind, but so far Dave hadn’t asked and he was grateful. There was time to figure out what to tell him, or how to tell him. Or, perhaps, how to avoid telling him for even longer.

     No, Ambrose, that was a bad idea. Already lying to Dave was painful, but drawing it out even longer now that he knew something like that existed was a bit much for his conscience. Not more than a bit, which was worrisome, but a bit much all the same.

     “Well, good on you for not exploding and for being patient,” the mage chuckled, squeezing his legs together gently to put pressure on Dave’s legs as if he were hugging him. “You’ve no idea how many times I nearly broke down and ravished you sooner.”

     “I’ve a few ideas.”

     “Oh?”

     “Yes, I’m aware of how delectable I look in a night shirt,” Dave said with a smug smirk. “The times I’ve caught you staring at me are either out of curiosity, love, or hunger and believe you me the hungry look is the one I savored the most some nights.”

     While Dave spoke he moved his foot again, stroking, rubbing, gently kneading with his toes beneath the water. Ambrose stirred a bit under the attention and chuckled, glancing down towards Dave’s ministrations.

     “Are you attempting to woo me into a second round?”

     “And if I am? Would you say no?”

     “I’ve created a monster,” Ambrose murmured, but his look of amused delight didn’t fade in the slightest. Dave continued to move his feet and eventually the mage’s lower head was trying to rise to the water’s surface, aching sweetly.

     “Is that a yes..?” Dave ventured. “Or a maybe..?”

     “It’s a yes, if you’ll get out of the tub for a moment. Dry off a bit and head for the counter,” Ambrose murmured, eyes taking on the hungry look Dave had spoken of before. Their honeymoon may still be in effect after all, he mused. Perhaps it wasn’t truly over until they went home and things returned back to normal, the celebration ended and a new aspect of their routine laying awake for them in the more carnal recesses of the day and night.

     Dave’s willowy legs were muscular and attractive as he clambered out of the tub and toweled himself off a bit, then went to the counter and looked at it in confusion. What did he want with the counter? Uncertain, Dave turned around and sat on it as one would sit on any countertop, knees slightly parted and feet swinging so his heels gently thumped the wood behind them each time he reached the end of the arc backwards. He was half hard already and wore the eager, expectant look of a young man waiting for his desires to be sated.

     The mage took a bit longer to rise from the hot water, skin steaming as he wiped off the water, one hand raising to summon the container from the night before. Dave’s heart fluttered at the sight of it, hands reaching out to catch it when it came closer to him, wondering if he was meant to do anything with it on his own.

     ...Could he? Was he able to do what Ambrose had done to him on his own? The idea was appealing, especially with an audience. While his husband continued to dry himself off, Dave opened the container and took a portion upon his fingertips and palm, reaching down cautiously between his own legs as he leaned back further on the counter.

     “Ambrose,” he called softly, waiting till his spouse looked over before probing two fingers into himself to the first digit, biting his lip. 

     The drying motions slowed, but the heated stare was persistent. Silent. Waiting. Watching. Dave swallowed and pressed the fingers in deeper with a soft groan, uncertain of what he was doing but trying to do as he remembered by feel. Perhaps two fingers was a bit much right off the bat, but it felt… good. Strange but good, and that heated stare was making his stomach twist in the best possible way. His dick ached as he moved his hand again, splaying his fingers a bit, working into himself bit by bit while maintaining eye contact. He had to do a bit more work to get the same results it seemed, fingers slimmer than those of the mage, probing further to finally find that space within himself that brought the lightning to his eyes and the heat down his spine.

     The power of realizing he could bring that level of pleasure to himself was a heady one, though not nearly as heady as the realization that his audience was coming closer like a curious predator. Soon enough Dave was settled between Ambrose’s splayed arms, neck kissed and nipped while his hand continued to work, free hand back slightly to brace himself and keep from falling.

     “You’re a quick learner,” he hummed, pausing for a moment to press his teeth over the pulse point of Dave’s nape, feeling the throb before releasing. “I can see the same look on your face as last night while you do that.”

     “It’s- ahh… It’s easier than I thought,” Dave admitted, fingers working in a more hurried pattern now that Ambrose was closer. He could feel the press of cock against the back of his thigh, stomach flipping eagerly. He already knew how good it could feel, and this time a bed wasn’t even involved. Exciting. They could do these kinds of things anywhere..? A brief thought of defiling the library crossed his mind and he groaned softly, eyes fluttering closed.

     “Think you can stand?” Ambrose asked, kissing Dave’s temple, his ear, his jaw.

     Stand? “Y-yeah, I can. Just. Give me a second,” Dave crooned, continuing to work his hand for a moment, adding a third finger for safety’s sake. It felt about the same as last night, about as easy to move. Now that he knew what to expect it shouldn’t be as difficult, right? His lover was gentle, it shouldn’t hurt at all.

     When Dave felt like he could handle being away from that pleasure he was stroking to life, he gently removed his fingers and slid off the counter onto shaky legs, back arching slightly as he remained caged in by Ambrose’s arms and affections. Ambrose kissed him properly, held him close and gently dipped him back till Dave worried he’d swoon, then gently placed him back on his feet.

     “Turn for me,” he crooned softly, stroking a hand down Dave’s side before reaching for the container from earlier. A little extra could never hurt, and he’d rather use too much than too little. A few strokes to his length with some of the contents and he felt prepared to add to what Dave had already done up on the countertop alone with his legs wide and his body on display.

     Turn? The only thing there was the mirror, but Dave did as he was asked, turning around to rest his hands on the countertop. He froze in place when he felt a thick finger slick up between his ass cheeks, testing how much was there for certain. No.. He was just teasing him, wasn’t he. Dave glanced upwards in the mirror and caught sight of Ambrose’s face behind him, meeting his eyes for a split second before they both grinned.

     “Think you’ll enjoy the show?” Ambrose asked, kneading both of Dave’s hips before bending his knees and trying to line up. This would be a bit tiring at first, but the payoff would be delicious he could already tell.

     “Show?” asked Dave, frowning a bit into the mirror and trying to catch his husband’s eyes again. “What show.”

     “Me fucking you senseless,” Ambrose said as he carefully breached, the muscle looser than it had been last night, more prepared for what was coming. “You make the sweetest faces, and I’d love to share them with you. Let you see just how attractive you look while you’re being pleasured.”

     The bracing hands turned to bracing forearms as Dave bowed his head and let his legs spread a bit further, trying to adjust on the fly to the invasion. It was different than when he was laying back, a different sensation entirely that he had to balance with keeping upright on his feet instead of just laying back and letting everything happen. Ambrose’s grip settled on his hips and the uppermost part of his thighs, keeping him stable and likely helping to keep him up off the floor as he ever so gently pushed inwards.

     About a quarter way in he paused, letting Dave adjust for a moment, before continuing to press inwards with occasional pulls back to help the lubricant spread evenly. Dave was tensing the longer he stood there, no doubt over thinking it, trying too hard. Ambrose reached a hand down to stroke his wilting cock in time with the pressure increasing and decreasing, helping him to open up like a flower in the sunlight. Quicker than last night they were soon hip to hip again, Dave wilted over the countertop trying to brace himself, shivering and groaning, and Ambrose fighting to keep his breathing calm.

     Gentle. Must be gentle. Gentle with the husband. Don’t hurt Dave, don’t make him upset, just make it good for him. Everything will be okay.. Just go carefully, even if the urge to absolutely destroy Dave was there in the back of his mind like a tantalizing treat just out of reach. Bending him over the nearest surface was already happening, yes, but plundering him for all he was worth was appealing. Especially with the knowledge of just how sweet Dave looked, felt, tasted when he was overwhelmed with sensations.

     The mirror. He needed to focus on the mirror, down on Dave’s face specifically. The way the silvery surface shone light on the almost mottled looking flush, drawing attention to his ears and throat, to his narrow chest that heaved already with soft moans and heavier breathing every time Ambrose so much as moved. The peek of his dick down between his legs that just barely was visible whenever he tried to straighten up more.

     “How much do you think you can handle,” Ambrose asked, pulling back a fraction and pushing back in with a slow, steady stroke. “Can you handle this? Or are you more after..” he trailed off, pulling back further and giving an experimental thrust hard enough to make Dave bounce in place slightly.

     The first was teasing in the slowness, the delicacy, even if it felt amazing. The quicker stroke stung, was a bit too much, but Dave couldn’t help himself. He pushed back into that thrust and groaned, lowering his head with a frantic nod.

     “Yes, yes, I’m after that,” he insisted, feeling Ambrose’s hand leave his dick and instead trace up his stomach, his chest. Fingers ghosted over a nipple before closing up over his throat gentle as a kiss, fingertips feeling the rabbit pulse as it hammered away.

     “Keep watching then, Dave,” the mage insisted, pulling back as Dave looked dazedly at the glass, then thrusting sharply. Dave bounced against the countertop again, thighs and hands keeping him braced in place in front, while Ambrose’s hands kept him still from behind. The stroke came again, and again, and again before a healthy rhythm was built up between them, Dave desperately trying to both stay upright and press himself backwards, Ambrose working his hips at an angle while fucking up into his lover, the delicate grip of throat keeping those ruby eyes locked on the glass any time they were open in the slightest.

     Fuck he was gorgeous like this. If he were a painter he’d want to paint it, drive Dave wild over and over to keep the same flushed and needy look on his face long enough to capture even half the passion he was exuding with every thrust.

     No words passed between them, the silence filled with moans and grunts, the heady slap of skin on sweat slicked skin with each connection, and Dave’s babbled attempts at coherency that failed every time he tried to get his thoughts together.

     This was different than last night, more carnal. For one, Ambrose felt like he was far deeper. For another, being pushed into from behind didn’t break any of the intimacy for him, not when every time he looked into the mirror those golden eyes were right on his already. Even from behind, Ambrose had eyes only for him and it made his stomach flip in the queerest way. At one point the mage released the grip on Dave’s hip and instead reached down to capture his thigh in his grasp, lifting his leg up at an angle and turning his hips ever so slightly to change the angle they were working with. Dave came on the counter top in a heady gibbering stream of four shots, knuckles white as he hung on for dear mercy against the counter top, reduced to begging, not wanting the sensation to end.

     How could he bottle this, hoard it, keep it forever and open it whenever he wanted to feel it? Live coals in his stomach and magic in his veins, warm flesh behind and within him, a heartbeat he knew thudded only for him at his back in the chest of a man he couldn’t even begin to define even now.  The time was precious and fleeting, even though he felt his magic coursing out of him, intrinsically altering the flow of time around them. They existed in their own little pocket, not wasting any of the day, but Dave wanted more somehow.

     He could have sworn, just briefly, that Ambrose himself had slowed. When it happened a second time, Dave glanced into the mirror and whined a complaint. ...Only to get no reply. 

     “Ambrose?” asked Dave, glancing over his shoulder, out of breath and more than a little dazed.

     Ambrose was barely moving. The bit he was moving was slow like torture, hips moving a fraction of an inch, barely anything at all, raking over the sensitive nub inside of him slow enough it made his skin slither down his spine deliciously. It didn’t feel right though. As wonderful as it felt physically, the concentrated look on Ambrose’s face, the way he looked frozen in place, sweat settled on his cheek in its thin rivulet stopped in place.

     No. Wrong. Felt wrong. Taking a few panicked breaths, Dave focused as hard as he could on motion, on speed, on pulling his magic back inward instead of letting it continue to bleed out of him so intensely and do what it wanted to. The sudden sharp slap of Ambrose’s thrust against his ass made him yip and startle, bowing down over the counter top once more, thrown back into the pattern he’d slipped momentarily out of.

     “Are you okay, love?” Ambrose asked, concerned about the sudden yelp. Had he done something wrong? Moved too hard?

     “Y-yea-ahhh. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine!” Dave promised, picking back up where he’d been easily enough once he clenched his eyes shut. “Fuck. Ambrose, please..!”

     Didn’t need to ask him twice. Ambrose grasped Dave’s leg more securely, straightened his hips out so he was working downwards, prayed Dave could keep himself stable with one leg and the counter beneath his upper body, and started to hammer into him like a well oiled piston. He could feel Dave tensing and untensing around him, struggling to keep up with a pace that in hindsight may have been too intense, fueled by lust and need and desperation.

     When Ambrose felt his peak arrive, he pulled out and set himself against Dave’s lower back, painting a few streams over the warm expanse of his spine before shuddering and going still. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant sounds of the city following through its routines, the odd sound from elsewhere in the building. Dave was crumpled on the countertop but slowly propped himself up enough to look in the mirror again, seeing how wide his pupils had blown and how red his face was, lips flushed and parted, kissable. He glanced up towards Ambrose, and again found his husband looking at him, studying him carefully, concern clear on his face. Had it been too much? Too soon? Dave’s held leg was released and he tottered for a moment on the balls of his feet before sinking down flat footed and slicking his bangs back from his eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, Dave turned around and braced himself against the counter top for a moment before slumping forwards to hug Ambrose tight around the middle, face in his chest.

     “Can we get back in the tub..? I really need it,” he hummed softly, nuzzling, tired.

     “Of course. Give me a moment and I’ll help you in,” promised the mage as he reached for a washcloth, wiping the mess off Dave’s back with it before folding it over on itself and wiping down the countertop as well where he’d leaned. Appeased, he bent down slightly and scooped behind Dave’s legs like a new bride, upper back braced. His movements were slower, tired, but every step was cautiously stable as he swept them over to the tub and helped lower Dave inside. On his feet again, Dave clasped his spouse’s hand before carefully sinking down, wincing when the still warm water licked at sensitive places. When he was settled, Ambrose climbed in as well and worked on reheating the water a bit from within the tub, a hand heating as he wavered it around to revitalize the still warm water to its piping hot former quality.

     “That was… wow,” Dave breathed. “Can we have a lazy day today?”

     “Darling I’d want nothing more than to laze about with you today.” Especially after that.

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

     The wings weren’t brought up that day either, and Dave found himself saddled with even more questions than before. He’d used magic on Ambrose and apparently it had gone unnoticed in the heat of the moment. There’d been no mention of the moments of slowed time, not a single comment, not even a tease. With Ambrose’s propensity for teasing him it felt out of place that he’d waste a single precious moment of ammunition for the sake of… what. Keeping him from being embarrassed?

     Wings and time slips rounded through Dave’s mind as they ordered a meal for delivery to their room and ate it on the bed like a cushiony picnic. They were half clothed and messy, hair having dried naturally instead of being toweled and combed, and nobody had bat an eye at them. The meal was delightful really, crisp salads with delicious dressing, some kind of flavorful main dish the likes of which Dave had never tasted before, rich with meat and spices and a thick sauce stuffed with vegetables. They even had dessert, delicate cakes moistened with honey water and covered with whipped cream and chocolate powder. Dave felt stuffed, satisfied beyond belief inside and out, and yet his mind couldn’t be silenced.

     It remained that way for the duration of their trip, two more days of enjoying each other’s company and the sights of the city, the ocean and the soft whisper of time passing as normally as it could without Dave’s subconscious interference. Or conscious interference.

     The curiosity was starting to claw at him by the time they loaded up their purchases and belongings and headed back to a safe place to draw a door home. Could he actually do that on purpose to Ambrose again..? Why would he, though? It felt underhanded, freezing someone as powerful as Ambrose in place even temporarily. One thing was for sure, it would take a good deal more study before he even attempted to think of such a feat more seriously, or that the merits were worthwhile. What would he even do with it? What scenario would he ever need to use magic against his husband?

     His room, was one thought. His room and the doors.. And finding out precisely what was happening, if he didn’t go into proper detail about it. The wings flickered through Dave’s mind again as they deposited their bags in Dave’s room and the hallway for Ambrose to take to his own room later.

     “I could use a cup of tea before tending the horses. Would you like some as well?” Ambrose asked. “I’m torn between something with milk and something with fruit and herbs.”

     “Can you tell me about the wings now?”

     The non-sequitur caught Ambrose off guard, freezing in place like a criminal caught in the act. He lifted his hands and opened his mouth once, twice… then sighed and nodded.

     “Fine. I’ll tell you about the wings.. But tea first,” he insisted. “I’d rather have a cup of something warm on hand while we talk.”

     The kitchen was familiar and welcoming as ever once it started to thrum to life, kettle going to the fire soon as it was lit to start boiling, cups coming from the cupboard, and a few different teas coming dancing over. Milk, still cool in its jug, joined the collection of items on the table, elbowing the sugar out of place with its size. Dave took a seat and watched Ambrose busy himself with getting a snack, some simple bread and butter. He took a bite as he came over, sitting down with his knees nearly touching Dave’s before he heaved a sigh.

     “Is it that bad that I’ve asked?” Dave said curiously. “You promised we’d discuss them before.”

     “Yes. I mean no. I mean-” Breathe. Ambrose took a moment and another bite of bread to steady his nerves. “What I mean to say is that I did promise you, but it’s not that bad that you’ve asked. I just wished I’d had more time before we had this discussion.”

     “More time?” Time for what? They’d just come from vacation where they’d spent entire days doing next to nothing but leisure activities, and even now the biggest thing on the list of things to do was just falling back into their routines. “...Is this linked to your room being a secret?”

     He knew that much already, if only from his peeking before. Dave prayed his question wasn’t leading enough, didn’t give away what he’d already known or assumed.

     “To a point, yes. My room’s secret because it contains a lot of dangerous things I don’t think you’re prepared to handle, even if you’re certain you are,” Ambrose admitted. “Books and components for spells that might kill you, or things that shouldn’t be done at all that I’ve collected over time. It’s a repository of many things that should never fall into the wrong hands, especially hands as lovely as yours. I hope you understand that.”

     “I mean. I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Dave argued. “But what does your room being dangerous have to do with the wings?”

     Ambrose hesitated for a moment, and before he could get to talking the kettle went off. Buying himself more time he swept over to collect it from the fire with a hot pad on the handle, pouring the water in each mug before sending it back to the fire on its own. He took a moment to decide his tea before loading the strainer with a strong tea he’d even down with milk and sugar afterwards. He was keenly aware that Dave was watching him, not letting him disappear from the conversation like he subtly wanted to. He’d put this off for so long, surely a bit longer wouldn’t hurt..? Just a bit longer? He held his breath under the weight of those red eyes, and finally exhaled as a sigh.

     “The wings are a projection of magic, a manifestation,” he explained. “When I do my work that isn’t just crafting spells or potions for people, I tend to have the wings. Sometimes more. ...It’s like armour, to a point. It protects me, shields me from damage, absorbs other spells and magic that may be flung at me into each feather.”

     Dave immediately frowned.

     “Wait. What? Who would be flinging magic at you like that, that you’d need armour?”

     “I work for a good deal of people as a bit of a mercenary,” Ambrose explained. “There are places far darker than humans want to admit exist where life is still trying to thrive, but there’s so much negativity around it that there’s next to no chance for it to blossom and rekindle its former light. I, and others like me, are employed to go and give those bright patches a boost… while fighting off the darkness that encroaches from all sides.”

     “But. Why you?” Dave asked, leaning forwards. Ambrose avoided his eyes and put Dave’s tea on for him, selecting an apple and rose hips blend he thought he might like. When he finally looked up again he looked tired.

     “Because there was a good point in my life where I was starting to be certain that I’d not have a fated partner after all. I had nothing in my life but myself and the horses and this house, the occasional spell crafting to do. The end goal is a good, honest, hard won one. With nobody relying on me back then it seemed worthwhile to fight for it.”

     “And now that I’m here? That you have your match? You’re still doing such dangerous things?” Dave asked, frowning, concerned. “I wait for you when you’re in your room, only to hear you’re not in there at all. That you’re off fighting some… some great evil I don’t even understand?”

     Ambrose tapped his tea strainer against the side of his mug to get the dregs of tea out while he could, then added sugar and milk. The activity was soothing, normal. Calming. He hadn’t wanted to bring this up for many reasons, but Dave’s voice now was another reason why.

     “Because I can’t just stop now, Dave. I’ve got an agreement to fulfill and I can’t cease until I’ve managed to re-light the points I’ve been assigned.”

     “But. Ambrose it sounds like you’re fighting a losing battle, can’t you ask for help? Assistance?” he asked. “Surely the others who are doing their work can help.”

     “They’re assigned to their own areas trying to do the same thing. Or at least the ones who are still with us are,” he explained. “Do you want sugar?”

     “Fuck the sugar!” Dave finally said. He thumped a hand on the tabletop and stood up, hands fisting at his sides. “I. ...Ambrose I’ve seen inside your room before, I’ve gone inside of it. I saw you coming back, everything an oil slick and foul and… and monstrous! You looked like a beast, is that you being safe? Is that you being alright, or is that something bad that’s happening to you?”

     Ambrose took his turn to frown this time, looking up at Dave, searching his face. “When did you-?”

     “When I collapsed in the hallway. I drew a door. I panicked and had to shut it, and it was too much, you were coming out too fast, I had to let the magic do what it wanted to do,” Dave admitted, jaw tense. He was torn between being angry and feeling hot tears sting at the edges of his eyes, keeping him hyped up and agitated.

     “You drew a door?” Ambrose asked dumbly, brows lifting. “You can..? You can draw doors now?”

     “Not reliably,” Dave admitted. “Just. I think I can, if I needed to. In an emergency, or if I really really wanted to.”

     “Please, don’t draw random doors until you’re more practiced,” Ambrose begged. “And if you’re able to reach my room, please, leave the doors in there alone. Don’t enter them. They’re not safe for you.”

     “They’re not safe for you either! Tell me why you looked like a monster coming out of it, Ambrose.”

     “...Because I was one, briefly.” The mage licked his lips and glanced to his cup, to Dave’s with its strainer letting out darker and darker contents “I usually am by the time I call it a day and come back. The feathers absorb the magic and contain it, but it’s tainted. It’s like wet, rancid seaweed clinging to me, a cloak over my humanity, but without it I’d have turned to a beast long ago. At least I can still remove the layer and be okay afterwards.”

     “But are you actually okay?” Dave countered, leaning closer to Ambrose’s face suddenly enough that the mage had to lean back to avoid their faces smacking together. He wasn’t used to Dave being this confrontational, wasn’t expecting him to be after such a nice trip. He’d thought he had more time, more weeks to concoct some kind of a story, an explanation better than the truth. More beautiful for his lover to hear and be pacified by than hearing about the ravages of war and human cruelty condensed into creature form with black magics abundant.

     “Of course I am.”

     “You come back exhausted and stressed every time,” Dave said. “And you talk about removing a layer.. Ambrose, what will you do if one of these times that layer doesn’t come off?”

     “It will always come off.”

     “What if it doesn’t?”

     “It will always come off,” Ambrose said sternly.

     “Ambrose!”

     “Dave, what do you want me to say?” he asked, grasping his cup of tea and sitting back, staring at the swirling contents before taking a sip. Even with the sugar it tasted bitter in his mouth. “That I’ll suddenly be able to quit, that we can continue our idyllic life without ever addressing all the evil that mages are capable of? That I can pretend I’ve never seen anything I’ve seen, or done anything I’ve done? I’ve killed men, Dave. I’ve killed many men with these hands… I don’t want those hands to be the ones that hold you.”

     “They’re the same hands whether you like it or not, Ambrose, this isn’t a fairytale. I know it’s not that easy, which is why I’m concerned. I’m scared for you, Ambrose! If this is serious of a task and you’re not able to quit.. When does it end?”

     “When the task is complete. I’ll stop getting summons when the brightness returns to the contaminated areas, and not a moment before.”

     “But that’s an impossible- Are you meaning to say you’ll never be able to quit?”

     “I either succeed or die trying at this point, Dave, I don’t have much choice,” Ambrose said with a finality that made Dave wince back. It was the same kind of tone his father used to use to signal that a topic was over with, and that there would be no further argument about it. 

     Dave clenched his teeth hard enough it ached in his jaw, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’d kept this secret for this long, this potentially life and death matter. He’d downplayed it, lied about it, hidden it. And for what? To keep him from worrying? Fat lot of good that had done.

     “If you leave and never come back one day, what did you plan for me to do then?” he asked. “Unable to draw doors on my own, no family, just waiting for you to come back forever? No idea what had happened?”

     Ambrose stared at him as if agitated that the topic was continuing, but then looked to the side. That was another thing that had weighed on his mind. There were no words for it, no explanations. Ambrose licked lips gone dry and finally looked back towards his spouse, his lover, the light of his life and lifted his palms up like someone seeking penance.

     “Dave, I can explain.”

     “I don’t want you hear your explanations right now,” Dave decided. “I’m going to the library,” he declared, turning around to leave the room, needing the distance and to let his head clear.

     “Your tea-”

     “FUCK MY TEA,” he barked, leaving at a quick stalk, temper flaring. Decorations in the hallway lifted as he passed before dropping down messily, some items fracturing as they hit the ground. The door opened before him as if afraid he would touch it, and slammed shut behind him hard enough it sent dust down from the doorframe to the ground.

     Ambrose remained in the kitchen with his tea and an empty table. He stared at the hallway, then at the fire, then down at his own cup with another sigh before setting the cup down. He placed both hands over his eyes before slicking his hair back a few times, clearing his throat, and signaling things to go back to their places. If Dave was going to the library then he’d go to his own quarters for a while and give him space. See what potions needed brewing, what spells needed making, what other odd jobs needed done. Perhaps he’d go for a ride later on to clear his mind.

     He had a feeling he’d be sleeping alone that night for the first time in a while.