#how to heal sore in corner of mouth

[duellonaaa]

How To Heal Sores In Corner Of The Mouth

Have you ever experienced the annoyance of having sores in the corner of your mouth? It's like they appear out of nowhere, right when you least expect it! But don't worry, because you're not alone. Many people face this issue and are searching for ways to heal a sore in corner of mouth.

In this guide, we will explore effective methods to help you find relief and promote healing. By identifying the cause of the sores, maintaining good oral hygiene, using natural remedies for pain relief, and boosting your immune system, you can speed up the healing process and get back to feeling your best.

Remember, taking care of yourself is essential, and with these tips, you'll be on your way to healing those sores in no time.

Key Takeaways

Examine oral hygiene habits and consider recent changes in diet or medication to identify the cause of the sores in the corner of the mouth.

Maintain good oral hygiene by brushing teeth at least twice a day, using a soft-bristled toothbrush and fluoride toothpaste, and flossing daily to remove plaque and bacteria.

Use natural remedies such as aloe vera gel, tea tree oil, and warm saltwater rinses for pain relief and healing of the sores, but consult with a healthcare professional before trying new remedies.

If the sores persist or worsen, seek medical treatment as healthcare professionals can diagnose and treat the underlying cause, and prescription medication may be necessary for proper healing.

Identify the Cause of the Sores

To identify the cause of the sores in the corner of your mouth, start by examining your oral hygiene habits and any recent changes in diet or medication. Prevention measures and home remedies can help in healing these sores effectively.

Firstly, take a look at your oral hygiene routine. Make sure you're brushing your teeth at least twice a day and flossing regularly. Poor oral hygiene can lead to the accumulation of bacteria and irritants in the mouth, causing sores to develop. Additionally, using a soft-bristled toothbrush and avoiding abrasive toothpaste can prevent further irritation.

Next, consider any recent changes in your diet or medication. Certain foods, such as acidic or spicy ones, can trigger these sores. If you suspect a particular food is causing the issue, try eliminating it from your diet temporarily to see if the sores improve. Certain medications, such as those used for acne or high blood pressure, can also cause mouth sores as a side effect. If you suspect your medication is the culprit, consult your healthcare provider for alternative options.

In terms of prevention, maintaining good oral hygiene is key. Additionally, avoid sharing utensils or drinking glasses with others to reduce the risk of infection. If you have a habit of biting or licking your lips, try to break that habit as it can contribute to the development of sores.

Home remedies can provide relief and aid in the healing process. Applying a mixture of honey and coconut oil to the sores can help soothe and promote healing. Aloe vera gel, known for its healing properties, can also be applied topically to alleviate discomfort.

Maintain Good Oral Hygiene

Keep up with your daily oral hygiene routine to maintain good oral hygiene and prevent further irritation in the corner of your mouth. Preventive measures are essential in managing and healing sores in the corner of your mouth.

Start by brushing your teeth at least twice a day, using a soft-bristled toothbrush and fluoride toothpaste. Pay close attention to the corners of your mouth while brushing, ensuring that you remove any food particles or bacteria that may be present.

Additionally, floss daily to clean between your teeth and along the gumline, as this can help prevent the buildup of plaque and bacteria.

Incorporate home remedies into your oral hygiene routine to promote healing and prevent further irritation. Rinse your mouth with warm saltwater a few times a day to help reduce inflammation and promote faster healing. Applying a thin layer of petroleum jelly or aloe vera gel to the affected area can provide a protective barrier and soothe any discomfort.

Remember to avoid any habits that can aggravate the sores, such as licking your lips or picking at the affected area. Stay hydrated and maintain a balanced diet rich in vitamins and minerals to support your immune system and promote healing.

Use Natural Remedies for Pain Relief

To relieve pain in the sores at the corner of your mouth, try using natural remedies. Herbal remedies and home remedies can be effective in providing pain relief and promoting healing.

One popular herbal remedy is aloe vera gel. Aloe vera has soothing properties that can help reduce pain and inflammation. Apply a small amount of aloe vera gel directly to the sores several times a day.

Another natural remedy is tea tree oil. Tea tree oil has antimicrobial properties that can help prevent infection and promote healing. Mix a few drops of tea tree oil with a carrier oil, such as coconut oil, and apply it to the sores using a cotton swab.

You can also try using a warm saltwater rinse. Dissolve half a teaspoon of salt in a cup of warm water and rinse your mouth with it several times a day. This can help reduce pain and promote healing.

Remember to always consult with a healthcare professional before trying any new remedies, especially if you have any underlying medical conditions or allergies.

Boost Your Immune System

To enhance your immune system, incorporate a variety of nutrient-rich foods into your diet. Boosting your immunity can help protect you from various infections and illnesses. Here are some dietary changes you can make to strengthen your immune system:

Eat plenty of fruits and vegetables: These are packed with vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants that support immune function. Aim for a colorful plate, including leafy greens, berries, citrus fruits, and cruciferous vegetables like broccoli and cauliflower.

Include lean proteins: Protein is essential for immune health as it helps build and repair tissues. Opt for sources such as poultry, fish, beans, lentils, and tofu.

Consume probiotic-rich foods: Probiotics are beneficial bacteria that promote a healthy gut microbiome, which plays a crucial role in immune function. Incorporate yogurt, kefir, sauerkraut, and kimchi into your diet.

Stay hydrated: Drinking enough water helps flush toxins from your body and supports overall immune function. Aim for at least 8 glasses of water per day.

Limit processed foods and added sugars: These can weaken your immune system and increase inflammation. Focus on whole, unprocessed foods instead.

Seek Medical Treatment if Necessary

If you notice persistent or worsening sores in the corners of your mouth, it's important to seek medical treatment. While there are home remedies that can help alleviate symptoms, medical intervention may be necessary to properly diagnose and treat the underlying cause of the sores.

Seeking medical treatment allows healthcare professionals to examine your mouth sores and determine the most effective course of action. They can identify if the sores are a result of a viral or bacterial infection, a nutritional deficiency, or even a more serious condition such as an autoimmune disorder. In some cases, a simple prescription medication may be needed to clear up the sores and prevent their recurrence.

It's important to note that home remedies may provide temporary relief, but they may not address the root cause of the sores. While rinsing with saltwater or applying a topical ointment may help soothe discomfort, they may not be sufficient for long-term healing.

Frequently Asked Questions

How Long Does It Typically Take for Sores in the Corner of the Mouth to Heal?

Typically, sores in the corner of your mouth heal within a week or two. To treat them, try applying a topical ointment and keeping the area clean. Prevent future sores by addressing dryness and avoiding irritants.

Can Stress or Anxiety Contribute to the Development of Sores in the Corner of the Mouth?

Stress and anxiety can contribute to the development of sores in the corner of your mouth. Medications and poor oral hygiene also play a role. Take care of your oral health, manage stress, and consult a healthcare professional if needed.

Are There Any Specific Foods or Drinks That Should Be Avoided to Prevent Aggravating the Sores?

To prevent aggravating the sores in the corner of your mouth, avoid spicy foods and acidic foods. These can irritate the sores and slow down the healing process. Also, be aware that certain medications may affect the healing process.

Is It Possible for Sores in the Corner of the Mouth to Spread to Other Areas of the Face or Body?

Yes, sores in the corner of your mouth can spread to other areas of your face or body. The risk of spreading increases if you have underlying causes like a weakened immune system or poor oral hygiene.

Can Wearing Certain Types of Lip Products or Makeup Worsen the Condition of the Sores?

Wearing certain lip products or makeup can worsen sores in the corner of your mouth, especially if you have lip product allergies. Consider using natural remedies to heal the sores instead.

Conclusion

In conclusion, healing sores in the corners of the mouth requires:

Identifying the cause

Maintaining good oral hygiene

Using natural remedies for pain relief

Boosting the immune system

It's important to address the underlying issue to prevent further occurrences. If the sores persist or worsen, seeking medical treatment is advised.

By following these steps, individuals can effectively manage and heal sores in the corner of the mouth.

[chuckletons2]

How To Heal Cuts In The Corners Of Your Mouth Fast

Do you have painful cuts in the corners of your mouth that just won't heal? Don't worry, we've got you covered! In this guide, we will show you how to heal those pesky cuts fast, so you can get back to feeling confident and comfortable.

No more worrying about people staring or asking what happened to your mouth. With our simple and effective tips, you'll be able to kiss those cuts goodbye in no time.

So, let's get started on your journey to smooth and healed corners of your mouth. You deserve to feel your best and belong with a beautiful, healthy smile!

Learn more here if you have a cut on corner of mouth.

Key Takeaways

Switch to a soft-bristled brush and examine your oral hygiene routine to identify the cause of the cuts.

Gently cleanse the cuts with a mild cleanser and keep the area dry by patting it with a clean towel.

Apply a natural healing ointment or cream that contains moisturizing and healing ingredients to create a protective barrier and alleviate pain.

Protect the cuts from further irritation by avoiding acidic, spicy, and citrus foods, using a protective barrier like petroleum jelly, and brushing teeth gently with a soft-bristled toothbrush.

Identify the Cause of the Cuts

To identify the cause of the cuts in the corners of your mouth, examine your daily habits and behaviors. Prevention is key to avoiding future cuts and treating them with home remedies.

First, take a look at your oral hygiene routine. Are you using a toothbrush with hard bristles or brushing too aggressively? Switch to a soft-bristled brush and be gentle when brushing. Also, make sure to moisturize your lips regularly with a lip balm to prevent dryness and cracking.

Another factor to consider is your diet. Are you consuming enough vitamins and minerals? A deficiency in nutrients like iron, zinc, and B vitamins can contribute to the development of mouth cuts. Incorporate foods rich in these nutrients into your diet, such as leafy greens, lean meats, and legumes.

Additionally, be cautious of your eating habits. Avoid chewing on hard or sharp foods that could potentially cause cuts.

Lastly, observe your stress levels. Stress weakens the immune system, making you more susceptible to mouth cuts. Find healthy ways to manage stress, like exercise, meditation, or engaging in hobbies.

Keep the Area Clean and Dry

You should keep the cuts in the corners of your mouth clean and dry to facilitate faster healing. Here are some preventive measures and home remedies to help you maintain proper hygiene and promote healing:

Gently cleanse the area: Use a mild, fragrance-free cleanser to wash the cuts twice a day. Avoid harsh soaps or alcohol-based products as they can further irritate the skin. Pat the area dry with a clean towel after washing.

Apply a healing ointment: After cleaning the cuts, apply a thin layer of petroleum jelly or a healing ointment containing ingredients like vitamin E or aloe vera. This will create a protective barrier and help speed up the healing process.

Avoid moisture and saliva: Keep the area as dry as possible. Avoid licking your lips or touching the cuts with saliva-covered fingers. Saliva can delay the healing process and increase the risk of infection.

Apply a Natural Healing Ointment or Cream

Maintaining proper hygiene and promoting healing is essential when addressing cuts in the corners of your mouth. One effective way to expedite the healing process is by applying a natural healing ointment or cream.

Natural remedies for dry lips can provide relief and nourishment to the affected area, helping to soothe and heal the cuts faster. These remedies often contain ingredients like beeswax, shea butter, coconut oil, or aloe vera, which have moisturizing and healing properties.

By applying a thin layer of the ointment or cream to the cuts, you create a protective barrier that helps to prevent further irritation and infection. Additionally, these natural remedies can help to alleviate any pain or discomfort associated with the cuts.

Common causes of cracked lips include dry weather, dehydration, excessive licking of the lips, and vitamin deficiencies. By addressing these underlying causes and using natural healing ointments or creams, you can effectively treat the cuts in the corners of your mouth.

Remember to choose products that are specifically formulated for lip care and contain natural ingredients. It's also important to follow the instructions provided by the manufacturer and apply the ointment or cream regularly for optimal results.

With proper care and the use of natural healing remedies, you can promote faster healing and restore the health of your lips.

Protect the Cuts From Further Irritation

To prevent further irritation and promote faster healing of the cuts in the corners of your mouth, here are some preventive measures and soothing remedies to consider:

Avoid irritating foods and drinks: Stay away from acidic and spicy foods, as well as citrus fruits and juices that can aggravate the cuts. Opt for soft, bland foods that won't cause further irritation.

Use a protective barrier: Apply a thin layer of petroleum jelly or a lip balm with healing properties to create a protective barrier over the cuts. This will help prevent further irritation and speed up the healing process.

Be mindful of your oral hygiene: Brush your teeth gently and use a soft-bristled toothbrush to avoid irritating the cuts. Rinse your mouth with a saltwater solution or a mild antiseptic mouthwash to keep the area clean and prevent infection.

Follow a Healthy and Balanced Diet

To promote faster healing of the cuts in the corners of your mouth, it's important to incorporate a healthy and balanced diet. A diet rich in essential nutrients can support your body's natural healing processes and boost your immune system. Make sure to include a variety of fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean proteins, and healthy fats in your meals.

Nutritional supplements can also play a role in healing cuts in the corners of your mouth. Vitamin C, for example, is essential for collagen production, which is important for wound healing. Zinc is another mineral that aids in the healing process. You can find these supplements in the form of tablets or capsules, but it's always best to consult with a healthcare professional before starting any new supplements.

In addition to a well-rounded diet and nutritional supplements, staying hydrated is crucial for promoting faster healing. Drinking enough water helps maintain proper hydration levels, which is important for all bodily functions, including wound healing. Aim to drink at least 8 glasses of water per day, and increase your intake if you're physically active or live in a hot climate.

Frequently Asked Questions

Can I Use Over-The-Counter Ointments or Creams Instead of Natural Healing Ones?

You can use over-the-counter ointments or creams for quick healing of cuts in the corners of your mouth. However, natural healing remedies are more effective in promoting faster recovery.

How Long Does It Usually Take for Cuts in the Corners of the Mouth to Heal?

Cuts in the corners of your mouth usually take some time to heal. The healing time can vary depending on the severity of the cut. There are various treatment options available to speed up the healing process.

What Are Some Common Mistakes to Avoid When Trying to Heal Cuts in the Corners of the Mouth?

When trying to heal cuts in the corners of your mouth, it's important to avoid common mistakes. Here are some tips for healing: keep the area clean, avoid picking at the cuts, apply a healing ointment, and protect the area from further irritation.

Are There Any Specific Foods or Drinks That I Should Avoid While Healing These Cuts?

When healing cuts in the corners of your mouth, it's important to avoid certain foods and drinks that may delay the healing process. Here are some tips for faster healing and foods/drinks to avoid.

Can I Wear Lipstick or Other Makeup on the Affected Area While It Heals?

During the healing process, it's best to avoid wearing lipstick or other makeup on the affected area. This allows the skin to breathe and promotes faster healing. Focus on giving your mouth the care it needs to heal properly.

Conclusion

In conclusion, healing cuts in the corners of your mouth can be achieved by:

Identifying the cause

Keeping the area clean and dry

Applying a natural healing ointment or cream

Protecting the cuts from further irritation

Additionally, following a healthy and balanced diet can promote faster healing. By following these steps, you can effectively heal cuts in the corners of your mouth and prevent future occurrences.

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat - 5

Requested By: No one. Original Work

CW: None that I know of!

Summary: The Creator is gone.

Note: This has indeed been a LONG LONG wait. Your patience is and will always be appreciated.

No spoilers for the newest Archon Quest!

Part One —> Part Four Part Six

A foul smell lolled you awake. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense smell of saltwater. Your mind felt dazed and your body felt sore all over. As though you were being pulled from side to side. Slowly, you try to sit up, despite your limbs screaming not to. You were laying on a berth, the cushion below you was stuffed with some material to make it more comfortable while a thick blanket was placed meticulously over your body.

“You’re finally awake…”

Your head turns into the direction of the voice. 

Although they sat in the dark corner, it was evident how intently they were staring, as if they were drilling into your soul. Suddenly they stand up, their shoes making a sharp noise as it comes into contact with the wooden floor. 

Instinctively you scoot away, your back hitting the wood behind you, the aura this woman gave off screamed that you were in danger. Her movements were slow and concise, and once she was right in front of you, she spoke again.

“I will not hurt you, Your Grace, you have no reason to be afraid.” her voice was soft. You looked into her eyes and saw a gentle nature about them. Odd, considering how different she presented herself.

You recognized her face, she was there right before you passed out from drinking the ‘medicine’ that nurse gave you. Where exactly did she take you? You definitely weren't in the Court Of Fontaine anymore. Your senses felt like they were at an all time high.  She had you cornered, and in your inebriated state with a healing wound, you couldn’t fight her.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Your voice was raspy as the questions left your mouth quickly. You bring your hand up to your neck, rubbing it slightly, wanting to ease the dry sensation you felt in your throat.

“My name is Arlecchino.” She introduces.

Arlecchino notices how you rub your throat, she walks over grabbing a cup of water off the table nearby. “You look thirsty, you should drink this.”

Once she holds out the glass, you quickly smack it out of her hands. The glass shattered on the floor. Her eyes widened slightly, staring down at the puddle by her feet.

“Y–Your Grace..?”

“I'm not drinking anything you give me.” Your eyes narrow.

Arlecchino lets out a sharp breath through her nose.

“I apologize for my actions, Your Grace, but I had no other way of getting you out of Fontaine.” She shifts slightly, glass crunching under her feet.

“Wait? Get me out of Fontaine? Where am I exactly?” You ask.

“We are right outside of the city.” She explains, “Soon enough, we will be heading to Snezhnaya.”

Your eyes widen. Snezhnaya? With the Tsaritsa?

 Furina, the Hydro Archon, already tried to have you killed and now you’ll be meeting the Cryo Archon.

And if her subjects were willing to kidnap you for her… 

As if she read your mind, she quickly says, “You needn't worry Your Grace. We are not as foolish as the Hydro Archon and will never intentionally harm you.”

You let out a sigh of relief but you knew you couldn’t let your guard down. You still had no idea what her intentions for you were yet. 

Arlecchino kneels down in front of you, “I know considering the circumstances it is wrong of me to ask you this but I must.”

She gently grasps your right hand with both of hers, holding it in a delicate manner just in case you want to pull away.

“Did Focalors ever mention the prophecy to you?”

Your eyebrows furrow, “The prophecy?”

Arlecchino lets out a quiet sigh as she closes her eyes slowly, she almost looks disappointed. 

“Fontaine is in danger, Your Grace.” she states, “the nation and all the people within it.”

Her grip on your hand tightens, “I want to find a way to save my home, and I believe that you returning to Teyvat at this time was for that exact reason.”

You shift awkwardly, “How am I supposed to help? I don’t have any elemental powers.”

Arlecchino's eyebrows furrow, “You do not need a vision, you have abilities above any of our comprehension.”

Powers above their comprehension? You couldn’t even beat that Champion Duelist in a fight, and if you actually had powers, they would’ve come in handy then. Not to mention even if you did have these powers, wouldn’t they have made themselves apparent by now?

Arlecchino takes note of your bewildered expression, “You don’t remember? Maybe your sudden reappearance caused some side effects. Amnesia perhaps.”

You wanted to dispute what she said. You weren’t some omnipotent being, you were you. You weren’t suffering from memory loss because whatever she's talking about wasn’t true.

“Your Grace.” Arlecchino says again bring your attention back to her. 

“The Hydro Archon has taken no action to save Fontaine from utter destruction. She tried to accuse you of a heinous crime all for her own entertainment, and even now, she's too much of a coward to face her own people for what she's done.” 

Her dark eyes narrow, a hint of desperation in her voice, “Please hear me out, Your Eminence, I will do anything to save your world from losing another nation.”

You could see more behind those red X’s in her eyes, an underlying feeling of dread of what would happen if you said anything other than yes. 

“Tell me more about this prophecy and how we can stop it.” You state.

A smile spreads across her red lips, “As you wish, Your Grace…”

It was raining in Fontaine once again.

     After only hours of clear skies, the clouds returned and another downpour began. Many children looked up to the sky and begged for the Hydro Dragon to not weep but to no avail.

Neuvillette sat at his desk in silence, staring down at the paper in front of him with his elegant handwriting on it. A letter meant to be sent to the Dendro Archon. 

Neuvillette was aware of his duty, to honor the word of the Creator, but he couldn’t bring himself to send this letter. He had hope that if he had just a little bit more time, he could earn their forgiveness. He just needed to keep them in Fontaine a bit longer. 

Their Grace took his gift last night, surely that must be a sign that he’s moving in the correct direction. Perhaps he could tell Their Grace he sent the letter but delay it for another week? No. He can't do that. It’s his job to uphold the truth and lying to his creator is the biggest crime anyone could commit. (well, besides falsely accusing them of being an imposter)

A soft knock at the door makes him lift his head up and sit down his quill.

“Come in.” He says in a soft authoritative tone.

The door opens and two Melusines enter, the deadpan look Neuvillette had on his face is quickly replaced with a small smile.

“Kiara. Liath.” he says softly, “what can I do for you two?”

Neuvillette stands up and pats the two girls on their heads, but that doesn’t ease the panicked looks on their faces.

“Their Grace.” Kiara says.

Neuvillette’s eyes widened, “What about Their Grace? Are they okay?”

The Melusines glance at each other then back at the Chief Justice, “They’re gone.”

Neuvillette feels himself freeze for a short moment, “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“We went there at dawn like you instructed but they weren’t there. The room has also been trashed as well.”

Neuvillette leaves his office immediately, his mind racing through the endless possibilities of what could’ve happened. Did Their Grace leave on their own accord? Or was someone able to sneak in and… 

“I will go investigate the matter myself.” Neuvillette states, his tone and expression not giving away what he actually felt in that moment. “Inform Lady Furina about the situation and tell her to meet me at Their Grace’s room.”

The Melusines nod and walk toward the door leading to Focalors abode.

-

Not long after Neuvillette arrived at the medical room, Furina rushed in. Her appearance was slightly disheveled, a tearful expression on her face.

“Is it true? Is Their Grace actually gone?”

“It would appear so, Lady Furina.” Neuvillette states.

The room was a mess just like the Melusines had said. Glass and water was all over the floor, and the bed was a mess. If you did leave on your own accord, you certainly left in a rush.

Furina walks around the room taking in the surroundings, “W-we should reach out to the other nations. Maybe one of them has already welcomed Their Grace?”

Neuvillette crosses his arms, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Fontaine has already received enough scrutiny for what we’ve already done to Their Grace. If the other nations learned that we’ve lost them..”

Furina's lip quivered as she let out a sigh bringing her gloved hand to her forehead, “But surely they can look past that right? For the sake of Their Grace?!”

“I suggest we find out what actually happened to Their Grace first, then we can act accordingly.”

She nods at his suggestion, “Yes, you're right…”

Furina moves over to the window, making sure not to step on any of the glass that was on the floor. A large crowd was still surrounding the building, hoping to hear any news on the creator's condition.

Neuvillette clears his throat, “Lady Furina?”

She perks up, “Hmm? Yes Neuvillette?” 

“Have you done the other thing we’ve discussed?”

Focalors shuffles awkwardly as she looks down at her feet, “You mean the diplomatic discussions with The Knave?”

The Chief Justice narrows his eyes, “You know you cannot agree to this meeting right? Although Snezhnaya had said they wanted to discuss Tartaglia being in the Fortress of Meropide, we know they are going to bring up the situation with Their Grace.”

“But wouldn’t it only look bad on us if we were to deny their request for a meeting?”

“Yes that’s true, but if they ask to see Their Grace and we still don’t know where they are–”

“I know, I know.” Furina interjects, “Let’s just not worry about that for now. We need to focus on finding Their Grace.”

“I’ll keep guards posted around the room.” Neuvillette says, “As of now, we are treating this like a crime scene.”

For the first time since they came to Fontaine, Aether and Paimon had nothing to do. After helping Navia clear her father’s name, they hadn’t left the Spina di Rosula’s hideout. Using these past few days to get some needed rest. 

“Aether! Hurry and wake up you lazy bones!” Paimon whined, “we're gonna miss all the delicious cake!”

Aether pulls himself off the bed rubbing his eyes. Late last night, Lyney and Lyntte had showed up and offered to treat the pair to some baked goods. As a thank you for proving their innocence at the opera house a few weeks prior. Although, Aether still had his reservations about the two since they hid their connection to the Fatui, he could never pass up on some free cake.

The two leave their room and Paimon’s mouth was already watering. A small trail of salvia dangled from her chin as she spoke excitedly. “Come on! Come on!”

The trip to the Hotel Debord was oddly quiet. Not that the Traveler and Paimon were celebrities, but it seems like almost no one was around. None of the shops seemed to be open and there were no children running around playing, Fontaine would’ve resembled a ghost town if it weren’t for the gardes. 

“Is it just Paimon, or does it feel like we just missed something major?”

Aether silently agrees wiping the rainwater off his cheek, it certainly did feel like there was some tension in the air.

“Aether! Paimon!”

Lyney had a large smile on his face as he waved over his two friends. Lynette stood close by, as silent as ever. 

“Lyney! Lynette! Long time no see!” Paimon says happily as she floats over to the twins.

“It has been a long time hasn't it?” Lyney says with a chuckle, “Lynette and I had been working so hard on more magic tricks, time just seemed to pass.”

“Something even better than the water tank magic trick“ Lynette chimes in.

“Oh! Sounds like fun! Hopefully we’ll be able to see it once it's finished.”

Lyney turns his attention to Aether, who was just quiet, taking in his surroundings. “Is something wrong there? You’re quiet, more quiet than usual.”

“Doesn’t it seem odd around Fontaine? Where is everyone” Aether asks.

Lyney and Lynette share glances, “I think there’s a huge trial happening in the opera house today, that would explain the rain.”

Aether brought a hand up to his chin. That did make sense, Fontainians did love their drama and he does recall Lyney telling him that it did rain on the days trials were held.

But why did it feel like something was being left out?

“Let’s not stand out in the rain anymore, Paimon is ready for some cake!”

The four sat down at one of the tables on the second floor, it wasn’t long until the entire table was covered in plates of sweets, pastries, and drinks. More than enough for the group to enjoy.

“Um, excuse me?” A kind voice calls out, “Are you two Paimon and the Traveler?”

Aether turned to the owner of the voice and it was a woman with sandy brunette hair and blue eyes, she had a small smile on her lips as her eyes darted across the whole group.

“Yep, that's us!” Paimon chirps, “who are you? Did you need the Aethers help?”

“Oh no.” she shakes her head, “My name is Isadora, I work at Palais Mermonia. Monsieur Neuvillette had sent me here to retrieve you two.”

“Oh Neuvillette?” Paimons says, “Isn’t he judging a trial right now?”

Isadora’s eyebrows furrow, “No he isn't. There’s no trial being held in Opera Epiclese at the moment.”

Lyney rubs the back of his neck, “Oh really? Ha, who would’ve known!”

“Anyway,” Isadora says, “Monsieur Neuvillette had said this manner he wished to speak with you about was very important and for you two to come as quickly as possible.”

“Well, we’re pretty much done here.” Aether says, “why don’t we just head over there now?”

“W–wait!” Lyney suddenly calls out. “You two are leaving already? Lynette and I were hoping to show you our newest magic trick.”

“We really should stop by and see what Neuvillette wants, he promised to keep us updated on anything related to Childe. How about we come by later to see the magic trick?” Aether suggests.

Lyney gives them a small smile, “Only if you promise to share with us what Neuvillette had said about Childe. ‘Father’ has been trying to get information out of Lady Furina and the Iudex ever since the guilty verdict.”

Aether and Paimon stand from their seats, “Sure we can meet and discuss it later.”

The twins glance at each other again and Aether can’t help but notice the looks on their faces. Was it panic? Fear? Or is he just being too suspicious of them since he’s aware they’re a part of the Fatui now? He lets out a sigh, shaking off the feeling as he and Paimon left with Isadora for Palais Mermonia.

-

“Aether… Paimon… You made it.”

Neuvillette’s voice was as tranquil as he stood from his chair, he walked to the front of his desk to stand near them, his hands laced behind his back.

“Yeah, Isadora made it seem like you had something really important to tell us.” Paimon begins crossing her tiny arms, “Is it about Childe?”

“Not necessarily.” Neuvillette responds, “Although he does have something to do with it.”

Aether perks up, “What’s this about then?”

“You’ve heard that the Creator is in Fontaine, correct?”

Aether’s and Paimon’s eyes widen, throughout the entire time they’ve been visiting the Seven all of the Archons have mentioned the Creator and their benevolence. Aether had even used some mora to buy books to learn more about them himself. He believed that if he still couldn’t find his sister even after meeting the final Archon, he would have to find a way to reach out to the Creator themselves.

But they have been here, in Fontaine this whole time and he didn’t even know?

“T–the Creator is what!” Paimon exclaims, “Where are they! When can we meet them!”

“Calm down for a second.” Neuvillette orders, “That's the reason I’ve called you here.”

Neuvillette explains to the two the string of bad events he and Furina had committed against the Creator. From calling them a fraud and putting them on trial and watching a Clorinde duel them and almost killed them on the spot.

“...They have been recovering in the hospital ever since. However I was informed by some Melusines that when they went to check on Their Grace today, they were missing?”

Aethers eyebrows furrow, “Missing?”

“Indeed. It appears that late last night that they were gone without a trace. Clorinde has checked all around Fontaine, above and underwater and we still haven’t found them. However,  after some investigating of their room, we don’t believe they left by choice. The room they were staying in was trashed like someone was deliberately trying to conceal evidence.”

“Who would do that to the Creator? Wouldn’t that be the biggest crime you could commit in all of Fonta– actually in all of Teyvat?” Paimon exclaims. 

“Correct.” Neuvillette says, “But we found this weird vial in the trash by the door. I guess the culprit didn’t believe that we would look there.”

“What was in the vial?” Aether asks.

“I had it inspected by a nurse I trust personally, she had explained how some of the ingredients originate from Snezhnaya.”

Paimon stammers, “Snezhnaya! Of course! Only the Fatui would be willing to do something so cruel!” There was a frown on the fairy’s lips as she stomped her foot in the air.

“I do not know what kind of beliefs Snezhnaya nor the Fatui hold toward the Creator, but we must make rescuing them our utmost priority.”

“How did you want us to help?” Aether asks, his kind nature shining over like always.

“If the Fatui really did manage to capture Their Grace, there’s only one person here in Fontaine who may be aware of what they'll do to them.”

Paimon and Aether look at each other.

“Childe.”

Neuvillette nods, “Indeed. Mr. Tartaglia is a harbinger. He should hold some of the highest secrets within the group. Including those about Their Grace.”

Neuvillette walks back over to his desk, sifting through the papers on top of it. “If you’re willing, I will file false charges against you and allow you to enter the Fortress of Meropide to question Mr. Tartaglia about these plans.”

Aether gives a firm nod, “I’m willing. I need some answers from Their Grace once we find them.”

“Very well.” Neuvillette, “You two should prepare yourselves. Once you enter the Fortress of Meropide, It’ll be hard for me to contact you. You’ll be treated like an actual prisoner.”

Paimon places her hands on her stomach, “Oh no. After hearing that, Paimons suddenly feeling hungry again.”

“I will begin making the arrangements.” Neuvillette says as he sits back down, “I hope that you two will return with good news.”

“Neuvillette?” Aether calls.

The Chief Justice meets the outlander's gaze, “Yes? What is it?”

“After what you’ve just told us I can’t stop thinking…” Aether begins, “do you think that this could be the Prophecy? That this is the sin Fontainians committed?”

Neuvillette cast a wide eyed look, and looked back down to his desk, an almost shameful look on his face.

“... I am hoping that’s not the case.” He whispered softly. 

© avocad1s 2023

Note: Does this post look slightly different than the rest? I switched over to writing on desktop rather than on mobile... which is also one of the reasons why I took so long to post.

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys @Itm-acct @honey-lemonz @ymechi @nervouseaglelover @livelaughlovekuni @vianitry @vvyeislazzy @kbar1013 @ichiraku-verse @chaoticfivesworld @eplefugl @mabvo @g3n0dtt @shikanosn @noahrandom @haunts-gh0st @pix-stuff @riiriin @emmbny @mih3r4 @shiki-jin @owl778 @ra404 @leekingsman @ash1 @wangjiswarren @shellofthewell @f1onaa @mahi-does-some-art @bitchyfanfics-posts @emilymikado @sarah22447 @swagbucksjester  @chrysanthemum-00 @nex-crowley @iruiji @cloise @scalyalpaca @game-savvy @dreamlessnight

If you wish to be removed from the taglist just inbox me and I will remove you! If your @ is bolded that means I cannot tag you (unless I’m just dumb lol) Hopefully I've tagged everyone who's asked and didn't make any mistakes!

[moremaybank]

tending to jj's cuts and bruises after he defends your honour... (based on this post and this request) [0.8k]

"Ow."

Your hands work diligently at the cut etched across his cheekbone from your stance between his legs. For a moment, one wanders off, stroking his non-battered cheek in a silent apology for the added pain.

"You did this to yourself," you state matter-of-factly. "No one told you to turn into the Hulk."

"Well, you don't have to be mean about it."

"I'm not trying to be mean. I just don't understand why you can't let shit go sometimes."

You move on to his split lip. A jagged, dark red line cuts through the mouth that you think about far too often. You ache to kiss it, believing that maybe you occupy the healing powers he so obviously needs, but then you think better of it.

There's no way he feels it too.

You dab a wet towel at his lip, cleaning off the dried blood, and once his mouth is free, he chooses to defend himself, thankfully with his words this go around.

"You didn't hear what he said about you, Y/N/N. I wasn't about to jus' let him get away with that shit."

Your eyes meet his, and you pause your movements. Though you appreciated his loyalty and how he'd always stick up for you no matter the cost, you never enjoy when he actually goes to those great lengths just to protect you.

Simply having him in your corner was more than you could ever ask for.

"Kelce is an idiot. I don't care what he has to say about me, and you shouldn't either."

"Well, I do. He's lucky he didn't leave in a bodybag."

Your eyes narrow at him. "You're impossible."

"'M jus' sayin," he says. His tender and sore hands travel up the sides of your thighs, warmth blossoming through you in their wake. He gives your flesh a squeeze. Funnily enough, he can no longer feel the pain flashing through them like lightning bolts now that he's touching you. "I'll never let anyone say or do anythin' to hurt you, princess. I'll always protect you."

You feel the warmth bloom in your cheeks, and you're eternally glad that he isn't holding your face the way he always does. You'd be busted if he were.

You offer him a small smile, one you can't suppress. How can you be expected to after those sentiments?

"Look, I know I probably sound like a broken record, but you can't keep putting yourself in the position to get in trouble. You're not a kid anymore, and you've had enough run-ins with the law as it is."

"'M not scared of gettin' in shit, Y/N/N."

"I'm serious," you frown down at him.

"So am I. Fuck the opps."

You scoff, wanting to wipe that devilish smirk off his face. "You sound like Pope."

"Who d'you think taught him that?"

You know he thinks this is all just a joke. Not the defending you part, but the getting in trouble with the law part. He'll always do what he feels he needs to, regardless of the possible consequences. It's just how he is. Still, you don't think it's a joke. You hate how Shoupe and the rest of them take all his indiscretions and use it as ammo to remind him that he'll never escape the southside. You'd hate to be the reason that he 'proves them right.'

"J, I mean it." You set the items that occupy your hands down on the marble counter, and grab his face in your hands, careful of his cuts and bruises. "All I'm asking is that you try and keep it together. Please. I don't like watching you get hurt."

He's silent for a moment, analyzing your words and the sincere look on your face. Yeah, you're his best friend, but it's always a nice reminder that someone actually wants to look out for him and care for him.

He likes it even better when it's you who's doing so.

The corners of his lips turn up and his hands migrate to the backs of your thighs. He uses his hold on you to urge you closer. "You're worried about me."

You give him an incredulous look. "Yes, JJ. I worry about you. After all this time, I don't even know why you question that."

"'Cause you're the only one who does."

You melt inside, and you're sure you do so on the outside as well. Your eyes soften, and to distract him from it, you go back to cleaning him up, reaching for some q-tips and the disinfectant.

His eyes flutter closed when you touch him again.

"If you wanted attention, you coulda just said so," you joke, unable to resist poking fun at him.

"Shut up," he says, laughing softly. His eyes are open again, and he looks up at you so tenderly that he wants to tell you what he's been feeling all this time.

I love you.

It's on the tip of his tongue, but when he wills it to leave his mouth, they refuse him.

He goes for the next best thing.

"Look, I'll try to...control myself. No promises, though."

A small smile graces your lips. "Thank you."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

[bethelighthalazia]

Don´t move, little dove

Summary:  Seonghwa has some fun with his pet during a livestream and is soon after joined by Hongjoong.

Genre: SMUT

Pairing: dom!matz x fem!sub!reader

Word Count:  1285

Warnings: mean!dom!Hongjoong, dom!seonghwa, cockwarming, rough play, oral

networks: @mirohs-aurora-society

© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.

“I told you not to move, little dove.” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head ever so slightly when you move your head back. You had to, the breathing got a little too difficult around his throbbing length down your throat. His gentle hand resting on your head, slender fingers brushing through your hair, but his gaze stays on the camera that's pointed at him. You can't do much more than nod your head obediently, eyes trained on his face, waiting for a change in his expression, but he's just focused on the livestream he just muted. 

“If you can't stay still and be good, I´ll have you punished. And you know how eager Joong is when it comes to that, right?” His hand wandered to your cheek, then down to your lips, wiping the little trail of saliva running from the corner of your mouth. You´ve been punished by the captain a few times already, and you knew all too well that you did not want it to happen again too soon. The slight bruises on your thighs have not fully healed yet after the last time two days before. 

And yet, you needed to move. the pleasure building in your core applied by the vibrator that he had positioned against your folds. You could feel the slick running down your thighs, but you just didn't dare to move at all. Yet, all your strength and determination was lost, when he turned his attention back to the livestream. His fingers again brushing through your hair, Seonghwa felt the need to remind you of your place, pushing your head down his whole length once again, but this time it drew a gurgled moan from you, an orgasm rippling through your body. The simple “Tsk” that escaped him when he said goodbye to his fans and explained that you didn't feel the best and he had to take care of you already let you know that you were in trouble. 

The moment he turned off the stream, his eyes went down to your face, pulling you off his cock with a harsh yank of your hair. This let you breathe, but you also couldn't hold back the almost animalistic moan that came right from your core. “You shouldn't have done this, little dove~” He chuckled, his voice dangerously low and the smirk that grew on his face tells you that your thighs probably won't stay the only of your body parts with bruises after the night. Seonghwa´s expression doesn´t change as he calmly reaches for his phone, dials Hongjoong´s number and then puts it on speaker for you. 

“Seonghwa, if you-” “Hello to you too, Joong. I just thought our little dove would like to tell you some good news herself.” you could hear a chuckle from the other end of the call, causing you to give Seonghwa a fearful, yet aroused look. “Hnn~ H-hello Joo-” A displeased sigh of Seonghwa stops you mid sentence, shaking his head slowly. “I- I mean…hello, sir.” These words alone cause Hongjoong to chuckle once again, knowing too well what will come next and Seonghwa doesn´t need to say anything. “I'll be over in a moment.”

The click of the phone brings a shiver down your spine. You don't move though, your hands still resting on Seonghwa´s thighs, your knees now feeling sore. One gaze up at his face, you know too well what will await you, the dangerous glint in Seonghwa´s eye when he looks at the door which opens and reveals Hongjoong who steps inside, locking the door behind himself before approaching you.

“Well, look at this mess between your legs, Seonghwa. She still hasn't learned, huh?” The captain snarls, reaching for your head to brush his fingers through your hair, gently and lovingly, before he just pushes your head down, your face pressed against the older one´s hard length. In the corner of your eye, you could see movement, Hongjoong crouching down next to the chair, a sadistic grin on his face.

“Now, use your fucking words to tell me what you did to upset him. And you better not cum as long as I am in this room.” He hissed, letting go of your head and then moving to stand behind Seonghwa, his hands on the older one´s shoulders to massage him, even lowering his head to press a loving kiss to Seonghwa´s lips. The difference in your dynamic always has been like this, at least, it always is like this in these kind of scenarios. and you knew damn well how serious Hongjoong takes your punishments. 

“I- I am sorry, sir. Hnn~ I m- moved and made…made noises while S- Seonghwa was doing a livestream. B-but i didn´t mean to-” You whimper against seonghwa´s crotch, not daring to lift your head to look at him. “You´re stuttering, birdie.” Hongjoong´s voice is calm, yet you could hear the smirk in it. “I'll tell you what you´ll do now. You´ll make it up to Seonghwa, use your mouth and don't dare to make a sound.” You just nodded, quickly opened your mouth again to wrap your lips around Seonghwa´s length, his slender fingers running through your hair once again to push you down. You felt his tip push against the back of your throat, tears appearing in your eyes. But, you did not make any sound.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa just talk while you keep using your lips and tongue to please the older one. They talk about the music, about their day and about you. The three of you were a weird couple, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were in a relationship, but when they met you, they just knew that they wanted you. Not only for the sex, but they wanted you in their lives, and you did want it too, because you love each other. On days like this though, you were nothing more than a pet to them. A pet to play with, to get some relief after a stressful day or week. The others knew about it, but they didn't complain as long as the three of you would keep it quiet.

You could feel Seonghwa´s length twitch and throb against your tongue, the vibrator against your clit suddenly turned higher, which sends another orgasm through your body, but you force yourself to stay quiet. Praising words from Hongjoong reach your ears, your eyes fluttering shut when you feel Seonghwa release into your throat, white coating your tongue as he pulls your head back by your hair. “Hmm~ you always feel so good, little dove.” Seonghwa moans out, his breath going faster as his head drops back against Hongjoong’s arm. 

“You did well, birdie.” Hongjoong hums, his voice now soft as he reaches down to caress your cheek gently. This contrast to his harsher self only moments before causes you to whimper, swallowing hard before you show him your empty mouth. When suddenly the vibrator is turned to max, you can't suppress a squealed moan, sending a heavy orgasm through your system which lets you drop into Seonghwa ́s lap, your breath going fast and your whole body twitching and shaky. A pleased smile on their faces, Hongjoong and Seonghwa caress your head before the younger one crouches down, takes away the toy and then picks you up in his arms to carry you to the bathroom, where a hot bath awaits you. 

Seonghwa followed the both of you, settling into the tub before Hongjoong then let you down into the hot water, resting in Seonghwa´s arms, your head against his shoulder. “We love you so much, little dove.” Seonghwa hums, brushing some hair out of your face to see your face, a smile on your lips.

taglist: @mingis-mizu, @tinyelfperson, @hotteokkay, @minkilicious, @bunnliix

(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

I’m gonna need more details on that punishment Lando was promised.

Loved the new chapter. All the bodyguards is exactly what I imagined Lando would do.

Felt so bad for him, to be so scared of making mistake in relationship, isn’t really healthy.

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {6.5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Just smut and a little fluffy aftercare. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, sub/dom WC: 1.2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven

Charles tested the sashes from the hotel dressing gowns that kept Lando spread across the bed to see if they had loosened. His wrists and ankles each led to one of the four corner posts and you sat at the headboard, gently stroking his damp hair. 

Come splattered his tensed abs from his first two orgasms, a third almost about to join the mess.

Unintelligible sounds grunted from him as Charles returned between his legs. He was taking his control back after what Lando had done and the red handprints that Lando’s sat on were the result of his punishment. As was the edging.

“Pleaseeee…” he whined as Charles stopped sucking his cock just before he was about to finish. Shifting lower, Charles disappeared deeper between his legs and Lando’s back arched with the workings of his tongue. “Fuuuck, feels so good.”

“Shhh, no talking,” you reminded him. 

The sight of Charles popping up, licking his lips, was enough to turn you on again despite already being thoroughly fucked just out of Lando’s reach while he was tied up. The punishment was hardly punishment at all for Lando, but it gave Charles some closure to move on from the mistake. 

“Lando can’t help it, can you, mon cher?” Charles asked as he climbed his body, settling himself on his knees over Lando’s chest. “The only way to keep him quiet is with something in his mouth.”

Lando’s lips parted and his tongue lapped at the precum that coated the tip of Charles’ cock before he craned his neck to take more. Charles grabbed the headboard and snapped his hips forward, burying his cock down Lando’s throat.

“There, mon cher, now you can’t talk,” Charles strained through gritted teeth as his own release mounted. “Putain, tellement bien.”

You knew he was close when he switched to his mother tongue and you decided to give Lando some reprieve as you wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking him to the pace Charles set with his hips. A muffled cry broke the seal around Lando’s lips and his hips bucked into your hand until he spilled himself over your fist with a sate groan that rumbled deep from his chest. 

“Oui, oui,” Charles panted as he pulled back and painted Lando’s pink lips white, each spurt jerking his body like a puppet controlled by his cock. His ragged breaths slowly calmed as clarity returned to his eyes and he smiled down at the mess on Lando’s face - from his watering eyes to his flushed cheeks. “Mon Dieu, are you alright?”

Lando licked his lips and smiled whimsically at the taste that coated his tongue, but he couldn’t vocalise anything as he reached his subspace. You quickly untied the sashes and Lando’s limbs fell limp around him, that blissful smile still lazy on his lips. “How are your ribs?” 

He seemed to have forgotten about the bruises from the crash until he was reminded. “Still sore.”

“Our Charles can do a lot of things but I don’t think he can heal with his dick, if that’s what you were expecting,” you teased as Charles used Lando’s arm as a pillow where he was still recovering. They both chuckled and watched as you climbed off the bed but then Lando pouted, his fingers wiggling on his free arm, begging you to join the cuddles.

“I’m going to run a bath before you fall asleep,” you said with a shake of your head, knowing he was going to crash soon from the highs he had been subjected to.

The steam spilled out of the bathroom with the scent of the jasmine bath salts you found and you dimmed the lights as Charles carried Lando in. “Poor baby is out of it,” you commented as you brushed Lando’s damp curls back. He wasn’t asleep but he wasn’t quite awake either.

Charles stepped into the bath and sunk into the hot water with Lando on his lap, a deep sigh filling the room. You sat beside them on the bathroom floor wrapped up in one of the fluffy robes and wet a cloth to wash the mess off his face before it dried completely.

“Am I scary?”

You looked up in surprise at Charles' question but he was busy looking at Lando’s dark lashes fanned across his pink cheeks. “Where did that come from?”

Tortured eyes lifted to meet yours. “He made himself sick, because of me.”

“No, he made himself sick because his imagination runs wild and he fears any little imperfection,” you corrected as you took his hand in yours, the warm water running up your sleeve to your elbow. The same thing happened any time he messed up in practice, qualifying or the race. If he made a mistake then he would self-depreciate and withdraw into a dark corner of his mind.

Lando’s head slowly tipped back to look up at Charles, remorse openly displayed on his face. “I’m not afraid of you, just the thought of you guys leaving me.”

“Mon cher,” Charles sighed and kissed his forehead. “You are ours and we are not letting you go, no matter what that brain of yours thinks.”

You had already showered while the bath was running but you slipped out of the robe and stepped into the water that was already cooling quickly. Thankfully the tub was extra large, just like everything else is Vegas, and there was plenty of room to curl up against Lando on Charles’ lap. “I’m stubborn,” they both snorted at your statement and you rolled your eyes, “so you know I’m never going to change my mind about you two. And Charles is almost as bad as me. Unfortunately for you, my love, you are stuck with us for a very, very long time.”

Lando pulled you closer and tucked his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you murmured as you combed your fingers through his hair and caught Charles’ eyes softening. “I think it’s about time someone else had an emotional breakdown besides me for a change.”

You cozied up to your boyfriends but just when you got comfortable Lando tutted. “You’re not meant to be in a hot bath.”

“It’s not hot anymore.”

“Baby…”

You can sighed but it was followed by a smile as your Lando was back and his mind was cleared. Trust him to think of your pregnancy the second he wasn’t worried about something else, now he was worried you were boiling little Jellybean alive. So you climbed out with a pout of your own. “Fine, I’ll go, all by myself…to this big, big bed…alone…”

You took a dramatic step each time, amusing them more with each one until Lando slipped under the water to quickly wash his hair out. Charles soon followed suit and the two of them emerged from the bathroom in their robes to settle into bed with you. Without having to ask, you moved aside so Lando could take the middle spot, knowing he still needed the reassuring closeness of your bodies surrounding him as he fell into a deep sleep.

Click here for the next part.

[inactiveobeymeblog]

The Brothers Cock Warming M!MC

Probably has been before but oh well. I wanted to add my own little pizazz to it. Also not a lot of male mc.

Tags: the brothers are on the receiving end, cock warming, praise kink, degradation kink, office sex, male mc/AMAB reader, teasing, and edging. Read at your own risk!!

Lucifer

This man is so hard to get away from his work

He’s practically married to it (and maybe Diavolo)

The moment you walk into his study he immediately tried to dismiss you, thinking you are one of his brothers

Boy was he ever so wrong

“Luci.” You would call out

His head immediately shoots up and he drops his pen

He would be so happy to see you he wouldn’t be able to help the corners of his lips curving upwards

You’d walk over to him and waste no time in kissing him

He’d kiss back and your plan is set in motion

Time skip to when you’re shedding his clothes off of him

If you really want him to cockwarm you, you have to get him in the mood

It’s pretty easy to do, too

Start by slowly undoing his tie and slowly unbuttoning his vest while softly kissing his nape

He’ll get impatient but he’ll also be curious

“You know, I haven’t seen you all day. I’ve missed you.”

Find any excuse to praise him

Whether if it be complimenting his looks or complimenting his behavior; it gets him riled up and ready

But what he doesn’t expect is when you both are only sitting there, cock fully sheathed inside him

He gets confused but catches on pretty quickly

He picks up his pen gets back to work

But let’s be real here

He’s not getting anything done

Not when you have the chance to screw with him in the best way possible

You’d start by wandering your hands all over his body while nipping at any reachable exposed skin

Then you’d move on to shifting slightly on purpose so you’d move inside him

You’d continue this until he gets fed up

“You’re being very annoying today.” He’d say a few minutes before he rides you completely

He’d get so lost in the feeling of you filling him up he forgets about his work for the rest of the day

He’s not going to stop riding you until you beg for mercy

Prepare to have a sore dick the next day

Mammon

Finding Mammon is easy

But if you can’t find him, just text him a “I need you. Come here now.” And it doesn’t matter where he is, he’ll be there in 2 minutes flat.

You get straight to the point

You tell him to undress while you sit in his bed, watching him obey your command

You find it endearing

So you reward him by stuffing him full with your cock

“Look at you taking me so beautifully. So perfectly. Almost as if you were meant for this.”

Praise him but lightly degrade him if you want to reward him

But if you want to punish him? Don’t say anything and watch him squirm on your unmoving length

But it’s only a matter of time before you snap and can’t handle how hard he’s clenching you

Before you knew it, Mammon was on all fours getting pounded into his own mattress

You love the noises that come from his mouth so much you have to praise him for it

“Such a good boy. Taking me with such little effort. Such a good boy for me.”

Praise him and he’s spilling on the sheets while screaming your name

It’s long last an hour before you finish inside him

You love him so much you found it in you to clean up everything (and find a healing spell of some sort bc let’s be honest here. He’s ruined.)

When you’re done with aftercare, you pull the second eldest close to your chest and fall asleep until you wake up a few hours later to do it all over again

Mammon loves it when you do that

Leviathan

Levi lost a bet against you while playing a video game

He lost and now he has to face the consequences

Sitting on your cock while he plays a game with a few online friends

Oh, and open mic, too

“I might not be at my best this time, guys.” He’d say as the round starts bc he knows you aren’t letting him off easy

He lost, remember?

For the first game you’re completely content, but the second game you get a little more teasing

You start lightly rocking your hips upward and running your hand gently up and down his waist, sometimes squeezing

Each time you do, Levi tries to compose himself by sharply inhaling and keeping his voice down

The next couple games you’re now thrusting a couple inches inside him, enjoying the way he struggles to focus and keep quiet

The next few games you’re now kissing up and down his exposed back while still pumping the same two inches inside him at the slowest pace you could manage

It was starting to make him squirm under you and letting out small breaths and quiet whimpers

You both stay like this until his friends go offline and Levi crumbles as he switches to his demon form

He’d somehow turn around with you still inside him and start bouncing away

His tail comfortably wraps itself around your leg and his hands are on your chest

Each time Levi lowers himself, you raise your hips to meet him halfway

You hit his sweet spot every time

It’s only a small amount of time before he’s gone and spills over both of your chests

You flip him around and start pounding into him

A few thrusts later and you’re stroking yourself, shooting onto his balls

You both quickly recover and clean up before you play another game with him

Levi would be distracted the entire time as he replays what happened mere moments ago in his mind

He looses again

Satan

This nerd immediately knew what you were trying to do

So he wasted no time in tying you to his bed and siting comfortably down onto your length with a book in hand

You’re still inside him when he lays back against your chest while reading the rest of his book

He could spend hours just sitting on your dick and you’d be helpless just laying there, hard, inside him for hours on end

Eventually though, he’d get bored and turn his body around to face you, book placed down beside you

“I’m going to make you feel so good you will never want to leave.”

He’d say something so hot you twitch so violently inside him he squeaks quietly

You find it cute

But your little smirk turns into an open ‘O’ when Satan brutally starts bouncing

He’s slamming himself down so hard you’re moaning with him

He wouldn’t stop there either

He’d play with your nipples, pinching and licking them whenever he wants

It’s not a shocker when you’re the one unloading inside him first

Your mind gets so clouded with lust you start to raise your hips in time with Satan’s bounces but the demon wouldn’t allow it

He’d force your hips down and get even more rough, his ass jiggling from how much force he’s using

You cum a second time before Satan cums once

Taking advantage of Satan’s brief break, you take the moment to look down at yourself

Your chest is cover with bite marks and hickeys

The same goes for your stomach, except it’s now coated with Satan’s cum

You’re hard again inside him and Satan smirks

“I’m not stopping tonight. I’m going to put you in a wheelchair by morning.”

He wasn’t wrong

You could barely feel your legs and it felt like yo were missing your pelvis completely not to mention how sore your dick was

You’d wait awhile before attempting something like that again

Satan comes up with an idea to wear cat-themed lingerie next time

He’s sure you’d get a kick out if it

He’d have a blast showing it off to you before brutally riding you all night again

He’d accidentally rip the fabric of the lingerie and get sad

He was really happy with the look of it too

Oh well

He’ll buy another piece

Asmodeus

If you thought you’d be in control, you’re sorely mistaken

Similar to Satan, he’s tying you up to his bed

But he’s not just going to cockwarm you

He’s going to edge you beyond humanly possible

He’d start by rolling his hips in a circle before rolling them up and down

Then he’d wiggle his ass a little and delightfully watch you squirm under him

He repeats this more than enough times to start getting you to beg

He hears you but ignores you

He’s too busy with rolling his hips and sucking your nipples and cupping your balls

He’d pleasure you until you feel that knot in your stomach tighten

Then he’d lift himself off your dick and sit on it until you start pouting

Then he starts the process all over again

This time he starts touching himself

He strokes himself in time with his rolling and your moans and desperate cries for more

But he ignores you and says not until he’s climaxing on your chest

And so that’s exactly what happened

He moans your name and spills on your stomach, some shooting onto your face and chest

He licks his mess up before lifting himself off your cock and crawling backwards while still making eye contact with you

Before you know it, your cock is in his mouth as you’re face fucking him stupid

Your length reaches the back of his throat and he happily accepts it

Asmo’s throat game is god-tier

He knows when to swallow around you and when to use his tongue

It’s not long before you’re spilling everything you’ve built up down Asmo’s throat

Asmo smiles and licks his lips before undoing your bindings

“Let’s do that again sometime. I enjoyed it.”

Beelzebub

If Beel is going to cockwarm you, it’s with his mouth

You’ll most likely find him in his shared bedroom (alone most of the time considering Belphie doesn’t sleep in one spot too often)

You find him there and you lean against the door, watching him finish the last of his midnight snack

You smirk to yourself and muster up the most not-sexual tone you could manage

“Still hungry? I have a snack just for you if you are.”

You’d walk over to him and sit down on the bed and he’d look at you with a confused look

He looks adorable when he does that

You lean back with one arm supporting you and use your other to lift your shirt up and all Beel could do to respond was nod with a smile

And getting on his knees in between your legs

You both have done this a handful of times before, he knows you like it and he’s happy doing it for you (he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel aroused himself)

So Beel got to work immediately

Undoing your belt (if you have one on) and unzipping your pants to pull your hardening length out through the hole

Beel grabs the base of your shaft before licking your tip

It takes all your strength not to fuck his face

Then he engulfs your entire length in one go, down his throat

Your hand immediately finds is way to his hair and your hips start to grind against his throat

You can’t help but groan when he swallows around you

The warm wetness of his mouth combined with how skilled his tongue swirls around you send heatwaves throughout your loins

You get to full mast after a couple minutes of throbbing in Beel’s throat

By now you’re panting lightly and running your hand through his orange locks

“You’re so good at this, Beel. Oh Shit. Can I?” You’d ask him and he’d hum around you, giving permission

Then, next thing you know you’re holding his head with both hands as you fuck his throat

Surprisingly, no matter how hard you go, he never chokes or coughs

He just swallows all of you

And the thought of that is what sends you over the edge and you’re unloading down his throat

You collapse on the bed behind you

Beel will patiently wait for you to recover before you sit back up again and kiss him

You cup both of his cheeks with your hands and kiss him with such fever it almost felt like a desire. A desperate need

You pull away and grin

“My turn, babe.”

Belphegor

Belphie loves to cockwarm you

It doesn’t take up too much energy and he doesn’t have to do much

You two are normally cuddling when this happens

You spoon him as you two nap on his bed, still inside him

Usually, quite surprisingly, Belphie is the one to wake up first

And being the little shit he is, he loves to mess with you

So he’ll start slowly rocking his hips back against you to wake you up

Once you are awake, you hold him closer to you

“You’re being naughty today, Belphie.”

So you start rocking your own hips against him as you reach around and cup his balls with your hand

Belphie makes little, quiet sounds as you tease him

“So full, love. We’re you having a nice dream?”

You start to whisper dirty things in his ear and he starts to moan more freely, albeit quiet

You still love to here his voice

While still cupping his balls with your hand, you use your other one to stroke him

You stroke at a painfully slow pace, making Belphie thrust himself lightly into your hand and back against your cock

You start leaving kisses on his neck and shoulder, sometimes biting

Over time, you slowly start to increase your stroking pace and thrust speed

The combined pleasure from your cock and you stroking him soon sends him into his climax, spilling onto your hand and the sheets below him

You soon quickly finish off as you pick up your pace thrusting inside him

When you pull out of him, you turn him to face you and you kiss him

“You did wonderful, love. Like always.”

You smile and kiss him again

“So did you.”

Belphie’s words made you feel butterflies in your stomach

He was so cute

It almost makes you want to smother him with kisses

Oh wait

You can

And you do

You kiss him until both of your lips are numb

“I love you, Belphie.”

“I love you, too.”

End.

A/N: Sorry if there’s any typo’s! This took me several days to make considering I didn’t have any motivation to continue working on it until now (and I don’t have the energy to revise and edit any of this). But it’s here and I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if y’all want more or not. I’m always open for requests! I tried to keep everyone canon-accurate so I hope it is. Thanks for reading :)

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our Girl – Part 9

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader

Summary: You awaken after being rescued by Azriel and Cassian.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Sliiiiight smut suggestions. Funeral/character death

AN: A few time jumps in this second last part to the series folks, hold on tight!

<<< Part 8

You heard sharp breaths leave their noses as you addressed them, each of them turning rigid. 

My mates. They had waited years for those words to fall from your lips so freely. 

Cassian groaned as he lifted himself on strong fists, Azriel already shuffling as they flanked you on either side, wings crammed into your bed, careful not to crush you. 

You offered one arm to each of them, your palms pressed into their too-big hands. Azriel blinked away the tears that stung at his eyes, raising your grazed knuckles and kissing at the sores and scars - a jarring reminder of what you had awoken from. 

Cassian was not one to miss out, and he slipped a muscled arm behind your neck, grasping at Azriel’s shoulder as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

You shuddered a breath, your insides warmed by the affection infiltrating the bond, relishing that feeling of home, of belonging. 

“You are both well? Healed?” you rhasped, your voice barely there. Azriel frowned, immediately reaching for a glass of water and bringing it to your lips. 

“Yes, sweets, we’re alright,” Cassian used a knuckle to brush away the stray drop of water that rolled down your chin. “How is your pain?”

You meant to answer, but Azriel replaced the glass of water with something cold and metallic. Flicking your eyes from the thermometer now pressed against your tongue, it was instinct to scowl up at the Shadowsinger. 

“Really?” you muttered through a full mouth. 

Hazel eyes narrowed slightly as he carefully traced that thin red line. “You’re fighting an infection, love.”

A gentle pull on your chin forced your focus back to Cassian, his eyes warmed with humour at the exchange between his mates. You supposed it was nice, to slip into a reaction so natural, something that had been amiss for years. 

“Your pain?” he pressed.

You shrugged as Azriel gently pulled the thermometer away, shaking it once, twice. Fatigue was heavy on your bones, and your head was throbbing, likely from that infection they mentioned. But the wound at your heart was a dull ache, and you had healed well all things considered. Pealing back the covers, you lifted your nightgown, eying the scar that now ran beside your left breast. 

You were there in an instant, the clang of that awful sword and Beron’s roar in your ears, impending death looming as you remembered the pure dread that consumed you for days. 

You stiffened, eyes turning distant as your mouth quivered with an instant need to cry out. 

Azriel thumbed your lip, cooing softly. “It’s alright my love, you are safe now. You’re ok.”

You drew a long, shaking breath. There would be along road ahead to recover as Beron’s prisoner, that much was clear. 

“Where is he?” you asked with a small voice. 

“Imprisoned, just as you asked.” Cassian's reply was soft as he gently played with a lock of your limp hair.

“And Lucien is…?”

Your mates met each other’s eyes, before your hands were back in theirs, held tightly. 

“I’m sorry my love,” Azriel whispered. Leaning closer, he nudged the bridge of his nose to your crown, pressing closer with comfort.

You swallowed, nodding as tears rolled down your cheeks. That poor male – loyal and kind and better than most. Your heart ached for Feyre and Tamlin. 

“The others?”

“Everyone is safe and well. Beron’s army yielded when he was dragged from the dungeon, and the Illyrians have returned to the camps. Eris is in the process of assuming his role as High Lord – Beron was forced to abdicate by his own council.”

“Tamlin stayed to help mend the damage from the battle. He’s had help from a group of aides and healers,” Cassian added with a smile. 

The smile you forced was barely there, only the corners of your lips turning as your eyes still hung heavy. Your friends, the volunteers - of course they had come. And Tamlin, fighting alongside Illyrians? It was an overwhelming thought. 

There was so much to do, so much to say. But fatigue weighed heavy on your mind and body alike, even your power was impossible to drag up from within. Grieving, celebrating, helping those to heal – it would all have to wait. 

And then there were your mates – confessions and pleas of honesty begging to be unravelled in a mess of emotions you did not yet understand.

Without notice, tears began spilling from your cheeks, rolling down your chin in a the trail down to your chest. 

“You found me,” you whispered hoarsely.

Azriel was wiping at your chin, and Cassian’s lips were at your crown as he replied. “And you fought for us.”

“I was so scared,” you whispered again, your voice wobbling with a half-sob. 

“So were we,” Azriel added softly. 

You blinked between them, a wrangled laugh escaping. It was exhausting, the instant switch between fear, then relief, then grief, then relief again. 

“I think I’m going mad,” you admitted, wiping at your face while you relished in the safety of having your mates by your side. 

“That’s understandable, love,” Azriel smiled softly, eyeing you closely, reading each micro expression with understanding. 

“Besides,” Cassian smirked. “You already were half-mad.”

Another laugh huffed through your chest, heavy and thick with illness. Cassian was grinning, before pecking at your knuckles with affection. The soft thud of Azriel’s heart fastened, and you could sense his joy through the bond as he watched you two. 

Lashes fluttered as sleep tugged at you, but you were reluctant to give in. Time was sacred, you knew that now. 

Azriel’s eyes caught Cassian’s with a quick nod, and it was the later who stood to fetch a vial, the popping of a cork pricking your ears.

Azriel forced your chin to him. “Something Madja has prepared to help with the fever.” There was that sternness in his eyes, a familiar one that he used when anticipating stubbornness. Given you record in refusing medicine, you couldn't blame him. But you wouldn't fight them today – you couldn't if you wanted to. 

The medicine was bitter, but you drank it willingly as Cassian tipped the glass at your lips with gentle hand at the back of your head, Azriel’s watchful eyes tracking each swallow and ensuring the bottle was emptied. 

You rolled your eyes at his keen eye, before settling back into your pillows. 

“I saw that.”

Eyes falling closed thanks to the quick working effects of the medicine, you couldn’t hide your smirk was you wordlessly muttered ‘overbearing mother hens’ through the bond. You knew it worked from Cassian’s snort from the other side of the room, and Azriel’s glow of pride at your use of the bond, despite the message cast through it.

Callused fingers stroked your hair before your pillows were being moved from under you. You blinked up at Cassian as he towered over, helping you recline further. “Go to sleep sweetheart, we’ll be hear when you wake up.” 

It was lulling to hear, and you let your eyes close again, grateful for the comfort of the bed and grateful for your mates – that each of you had made it out alive. 

As sleep almost pulled you under, your eyes fluttered open, and you sat up with rational quickness. “Where even are we?”

Your mates chuckled, Azriel pressed you back into the bed as he shook his head. “Still in Autumn love, but you’re safe.”

“That much I know” you muttered drowsily, sarcasm lacing through as you danced with sleep. 

“Do you just?”

You yawned, your words slow as you sighed. “I know I’m safe with you.”

You were already asleep before the wave of adoration careening through the bond could reach you. 

————

Eris’s voice cut through the oak door, greeting you into the room. 

Auburn locks shined in the fire-lit room as Eris stood on a low stool, facing an ornate mirror as tailors worked at his suit. It was a fine thing – orange and yellows embroidered with tasteful gold leafs. One tailor worked on his sleeve, while the other was busy bent at the cuff of his pants. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, Y/N. Just some finishing touches before tomorrow’s coronation. Perhaps we might be excused?” 

The tailors stepped away then, taking their supplies with them as they bowed to their future High Lord. 

Eris stepped down, stopping a few steps shy from you, fiery eyes casting you up and down. 

Originally, that kind of look would have beckoned your own power together within, threatening to zap with petty distaste. But without Beron, Eris was revealed as his true self. Cunning, sure, but also generous, caring, and much smarter than he had ever let on. 

“You look well,” he offered. 

“Because I’m not cloaked like a pumpkin,” you nodded to his flashy suite. 

Eris feigned offence with a hand to his chest. “You don't like my coronation suit?”

You snorted, and Eris grinned back. You were toying with each other as you always had, but now without the need for blood. 

“It’s lovely, actually. It screams of wealth, but has tasteful detail. Whoever designed it must know you well.”

“If I didn't know any better Y/N, I’d take that as a compliment.”

You pulled your lips in a sideways smile, eyebrows raised. “You did save my life.”

Eris stoped, his smile fading as his eyes blinked down just once. “I also might have damned you.”

You shook your head. “That wasn't your fault.”

A beat of silence.

“Y/N, I’m sorry my fath–"

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Eris, don’t. That is not for you to apologise for.”

Eris’s lips pulled into a thin line, guilt and grief weighing heavy on the male, the bags under his eyes yet deeper than you had ever seen. 

Composing himself, he nodded to a settee facing the the sprawling autumn forest, magnificent reds, yellows and greens muted by night. 

You moved to join him, eyes dancing at the tree tops. “Tomorrow will be…” you started. 

“A big day,” he finished, leaning his elbows on his knees. 

Eris wasn’t wrong. Here at the castle would be Lucien’s memorial, followed by Eris’s coronation. And on the other side of the court, Beron’s execution - all carefully arranged on the same day. It was a distraction of Beron’s dark reign, an insult to all that he had tried to conquer, and a honour to Lucien to celebrate life and moving forward. Beron would die alone, and Lucien’s legacy would be celebrated amongst many.

“Will Serafina be there?” 

He nodded, rubbing his hands together with tension. “Yes, she couldn't stand the thought of being there when my father…” 

Eris trailed off, but you nodded anyway. “I wish I could say the same for Helion. He’s overseeing the…event.” My father’s execution - he couldn't bring himself to say.

You bit your lip, nodded slowly. Azriel and Cassian had asked which events you wished to attend, perhaps all three, or none at all. You felt a strong need to be at the memorial and coronation, but had little interest in seeing Beron die, no matter what he had done to harm you an your mates. The males had agreed to accompany you, but you felt the urge they resisted to witness Beron’s death. It seemed Helion had felt the same, especially with his involvement in seeing securing Beron’s fate. You couldn't blame him, for all the years he had held his mate enslaved to his schemes.

“Helion will miss your ceremony, then?”

Eris lifted tired eyes to you. “I don't think he’ll ever forgive me for the life my mother was forced to live.”

“You were born into this, Eris, your own life was on the line. You were his child.”

“I’ve been fully grown for centuries now, Y/N. If I had been braver, my mother wouldn’t have had to suffer for the centuries she did. And Lucien…,” Eris choked at the name of his brother, shoulders stiffening before jerking with sobs. 

You watched with sorrow, moving gently to place a hand at his back, warmth spreading immediately at your palm. 

“They despise me, all of them. Helion, Feyre, Tamlin, Rhys, perhaps even my own mother. They see me for the coward I am.”

You cleared your throat, choosing your words carefully. “The beginning of your reign as High Lord will be an trialling time for you, I won’t deny that. But there were so many who could have stopped Beron, and so many that that didn’t. It wasn't your burden to bear alone.” 

Eris blinked, a shaken breath escaping him as he gained some control. “I suppose I will always be the High Lord that was too late.”

You swallowed, nodding. “Perhaps. But you will also be the High Lord who makes sure to leave a better legacy, to never leave things too late again.”

Eris ran curious brown eyes down your frame – so unfamiliar with the comfort you had just provided. 

“Azriel and Cassian are couldren-blessed to have someone like you.” 

You stiffened then. “I don't suppose they have me, Eris.”

Eris blinked, before his faced dropped. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did not mean to offend.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “It’s ok, Eris. You are learning.” 

He ran bony fingers through his cropped auburn locks. “I only meant to convey that I admire you.”

You shrugged. “I am quite incredible.”

Eris’s laugh was raspy with relief. There was a quiet moment between you, the only sound the crackle of the fireplace. 

“Will you be there, tomorrow?” Eris did nothing to hide the hope in his eyes. 

You placed a gentle hand over his. “I’ll be one of many. Rhys and Feyre will be there too.”

“They’re coming?”

“I’m not sure people hold as much resentment to you as you do yourself, Eris. I think most just want to look forward, to a better world.”

Eris swallowed then, curbing the lump in his throat that threatened again. “Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate your kindness.”

You rose then, smoothing your skirts. “All the best for tomorrow, Eris. At the very least, you’ll look dashing.”

Eris found his old self then, extending his arms to admire the suite once more. “That I will,” he grinned, before reaching for your hand, and placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“Should you feel the need to reject two Illyrians for one handsome High Lord,” he joked with a flash of teeth. 

You snatched your hand back, eyes rolling with a smirk. “Don’t ever let Azriel or Cassian hear you joke like that,” you threw over your shoulder, sealing Eris’s chuckle and closing the door behind you.

————

Lucien’s memorial was devastatingly beautiful. 

Without a body, there was no coffin, cremation or grave. Instead, a bronzed statue was erected in the gardens of the Autumn castle, and rows of fae from all courts gathered to watch it be raised. 

It was Eris who spoke from the podium, Serafina’s weeps heard by all as she clung to Hellion who kept a strong arm around his mate. 

“I want to thank you all for coming here today to honour the life of my youngest bother, Lucien. He was taken from us in a selfish and cowardly act by my father, used as a sacrifice to hone evil. A crime that contradicts my brother’s very essence, for with every fibre of his being, Lucien was good.” 

“Lucien was kinder than most, a generous, forgiving male who uplifted others and sought good for the world. I regret to have dismissed him for so long, and that I may never tell him just how much I admired his courage. As High Lord of this court, I will ensure that his legacy continues, that he lives forever in bronze in these gardens, but also as a celebrated hero and vital part of the Autumn dynasty.”

“To properly commemorate his life, I invite someone who was a truer brother to Lucien, more than I ever was.” 

Eris stepped from the podium, placing a sure hand on Tamlin’s shoulder before moving to the queues. 

You could see the tremor in your friends hands as he placed his papers down, fingers gripping to the podium to steady himself. Pressing your lips tightly, you knew the wave of emotion Tamlin would need to push through to address all of these people, and tribute Lucien in honour. Your heart ached for him further.

Feyre’s sniffing pricked your ears from beside you where Rhys held her, and as you dabbed a few of your own stray tears, a wave of reassurance was sent from your mates who sat a few rows back, catching the movement. 

“Lucien was more than an honourable male.” Tamlin began, his voice strong, commanding of the crowd. “He understood what it was to be truly loyal, to see the good amongst the bad, to make others feel at home when he didn't have one of his own.” 

“He taught me compassion, sensibility, gratitude and love. He was a better leader than I could ever hope to be, without even trying.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, and you felt an overwhelming amount of pride for Tamlin as he cast those sharp green eyes across the crowd. 

“He was a loving son and friend,” he said with a nod to Serafina. “And while he endured more hardship than any of us deserve, his wit and humour prevailed.”

A few chuckles from the crowd and murmurs of agreement. A tattooed hand found yours then, and Feyre squeezed you as you smiled at each other through tears. 

“Many might not know that Lucien used that wit to free us of Amarantha’s reign. It was his keen eye to observe those around him, that brilliant mind and sincere care for others that lead Feyre to my court, and to eventually break the curse. He helped us every step of the way, risking his life countless times under the mountain, because he understood what was at stake, and what was the greater good.”

Tamlin had paused, taking a shaky breath. “Lucien was the brother I never deserved, and I will never stop loving him.” 

Tear stained tracks shone on Tamlin’s cheeks.

“It is our duty to ensure he has not died in vain, to learn from his legacy of acceptance, patience and kindness. If each of us hone just a fraction of the honour that he spread so freely, Prythian will be stronger for it.” 

“And when your children ask to hear the heroic tales of friends and foes alike, tell them of Lucien – the male with no home, that lead with his heart instead.” 

When Tamlin returned to his seat as Serafina stood to reveal the statue beneath the cloth. Hundreds of fae cried and cheered, and you reached for Tamlin’s hand, holding him tightly with your head on his shoulder, grieving and celebrating with your truest friend. 

————

1 week later

“Where have you bought me, my love?”

Azriel emerged from the thick of the Autumn forest, dried leaves crunching beneath his boots. 

“A little clearing I discovered on a walk,” you smiled from where you waited patiently, hands behind your back. The picnic was set with bread, cheese and berries, and you offered a glass of wine to your mate as he approached. 

He took it with a raised brow, leaning down to kiss your cheek before taking a sip. 

“You are well?” he asked, noting the blush in your cheeks, sending relief through the bond that colour had at last returned to your face. 

“I am,” you smiled broadly.

Before you could ask how Azriel was, the beat of Cassian’s wings sounded, and leaves danced in a gust of wind as he landed on one strong knee. 

“Well isn't this romantic,” he grinned as he stood, stalking over to pick you up, twirling as he squeezed you tight.

While Cassian had business to attend to back in Illyria, both of the males had been keeping their distance while you rested at the Autumn castle. They checked in of course, and Azriel had winnowed back a few times to see you - but they were respectful of your space, waiting for your direction, feeling for your comfort levels along the way. 

Cassian approached Azriel then, a strong hand finding his chiselled jaw as he kissed his mate deeply. 

Immediately flustered, you busied yourself by pouring Cassian a glass of wine as overwhelming desire and longing for each other coursed through the bond after days spent apart. You forced your eyes elsewhere - you hadn't kissed either of them yet, certainly not like that. 

They moved to join you on the blanket you had set, Cassian taking his wine with a thank you and plopping a few berries in the each of your glasses. 

“I’ve missed you both,” you said with a shy smile. It was true, having them both here, it eased the strain of your heart that lingered at the distance. It also revealed desires you hadn't known were there. You wanted to bask in their presence, to hold them tight and never let them go. To tear your clothes of and press their naked skin to yours, feel the heat of them warm through you… Gods, this bond!

Azriel and Cassian shared a coy chuckle as they sensed your lust, and a scarred hand found your knee while Cassian lounged casually, wings sprawling. 

“We missed you too,” Azriel answered with a boyish smirk, before it turned sincere. “Thank you for bringing us together, my love.”

Cassian was already munching on the bread as he offered you a wedge of cheese, speaking with a full mouth. “What marks the occasion, princess?” 

You took the food, chewing thoughtfully before setting your glass down. Hazel eyes tracked your every move, Cassian’s on the clouds as casual hands were bought behind his head. 

“Well, I suppose I wanted to discuss us.”

You saw Cassian’s chest holt, before he sat up, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m fully healed now, and I think it’s time I left Autumn.” 

Azriel was stiff. “Will you be coming back to Velaris?” he asked with forced softness. 

You swallowed once, twice. “No.”

Azriel took a deep breath before nodding slowly, Cassian’s smile fading into something sad, while affection still warmed those brown eyes. 

“We understand,” he offered, his large hand covering yours. 

“I suppose a better answer is, not yet,” you added, squeezing Cassian’s hand in yours. You felt their lick of excitement through the bond. 

“I love you both, I do. But I don't know where I want to live, where I want to call home. All I know is that I want to continue my mission, help provide aide for more courts. Beron’s death has created so many opportunities, the courts have never been so aligned. There is much work to do - and I will dedicate myself to it. This is my purpose.”

Azriel’s smile was genuine under the tears in his eyes. “I am so proud of you.”

You sent a wave of warmth down the bond. “Thank you, Az.”

Cassian was leaning on his knees now, facing the both of you. “Wherever you want to be, Y/N, we’ll be there too.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, I won't ask you to leave Velaris, to give up your roles in the Night Court.”

Your mates exchanged a look.

“We would, you know.” Azriel husk was just more than a whisper.

“We’d follow you anywhere,” Cassian added. 

You smiled, your eyes cast down as you fiddled with your hands in your lap. With a quick breath, you placed a hand on each of their thighs. 

“I don't want that, and neither do you. Please hear me when I say I love you both, and I’m learning to forgive you for what happened with Alvar. But I’m not ready to be so…”

“Mated?”

You smiled turned broken. “Yes, mated.”

Azriel had picked up your hand, toying with it before moving scarred fingers to intertwine with yours. “Wherever you want to be,” he repeated Cassian’s words. “We support you.”

You blinked the tears that threatened then, forcing that pinnacle question past your lips. “Would you wait?” For me, for us - you didn't add.

“Of course,” Cassian said instantly, frowning with slight insult. 

“Without a second thought.” Azriel added, his lips now brushing your knuckles.

It was true, honest love that surged through the bond then, from all three sides. 

You huffed with relief. “Then I will return to my life in Spring Court.”

“Perhaps we could visit?” Cassian asked.

You didn't need to think on the offer. “I would love that,” you beamed. “And I will travel often enough with my work – and will visit you too.”

Azriel let out a small whine of relief, and Cassian grinned, moving to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest. 

“We love you Y/N,” he murmured into your ear, planting a kiss to your neck. “We will make this work.”

You reached towards the Shadowsinger, pulling him towards you, relishing in the comfort of their arms wrapped tight around you. You were safe, they were safe. You were happy, they were happy. 

For the first time in years, you felt true happiness in all avenues of life. 

Cassian and Azriel were kissing above your head, the sound of their kiss igniting something in your bounds as you were pressed between them. That primal urge to consummate your mating bond churned within you, and you were suddenly flushed with desire, aware of how your own pupils dilated. 

Raising to your knees, your hands found a place on both of their chests as they broke away, eyeing you. 

You leaned towards Cassian, eyes flicking down to his still-wet lips swollen from Azriel’s kiss. Ever so gently, you lay a peck to his mouth. 

Cassian whimpered as you pulled away, his eyes fluttering open and stalking you as you moved to Azriel and did the same. 

Wings twitched from behind the Shadowsingers head, and shadows instantly flooded around you.

Pulling away, you couldn't help the toying grin that pulled at your mouth. Azriel's chest heaved, and Cassian’s brows were pulled in desperation. 

“Please,” the later begged. “Do that again.”

Your heart lurched, your insides throbbing even more intensely than before. Gods, you wanted them. But you would have to be careful with how you would approach the bond while living on different sides of Prythian. 

“I’m conscious,” you breathed, taking a moment to regain composure. “I’m conscious not to enlighten the bond any further.”

Cassian growled, but Azriel threw him a quick glare. “You’re yet to seal the bond on your end.”

“I know,” you breathed, resisting every urge to ask your mates to eat the remaining berries from your bare hands and ride them into the sunset. “But I don't want to make things anymore difficult than they need to be. I have no interest in torturing you any further. Sex might complicate things, it can bind us further, making the distance that much harder to bare.”

Cassian groaned. “Please don't say harder.”

You and Azriel shared a chuckle as he strained in his pants. 

“It’s a kind thought, my love. And I think you’re right,” Azriel agreed with a stroke to your face, then a strong hand on Cassian’s shoulder that seemed to say compose yourself.

Cassian cleared his throat, and through gritted teeth said “We can wait.”

A wicked smile reached your eyes. “Are you sure about that?”

Cassian all but tackled you, nipping at your ear with a playful growl. “Don’t tease.”

You laughed freely then, his breath tickling your ear.

Azriel was still stiff where he sat. 

“Az,” you asked. “Will you be alright?”

Hazel eyes flicked down you in a way that made you shudder. “I just have on request.”

You smiled. “Yes?”

“Kiss me again.”

You were smiling as you lurched forward, strong arms catching you as you pressed your lips on his. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon in that clearing with your mates, kissing them, holding them, discussing the logistics of the next steps of your mateship, and falling back in love with the two males that always had your heart.

————

3 years later

The three years since you had rekindled your relationship with Azriel and Cassian had been the happiest of your life. 

Your mates would visit often, sometimes together, sometimes alone. And when your work called you to the Night Court or close by, you visited them in Velaris, spending time with your old family too. You relationships were healing amongst the Inner Circle, and you were glad to feel at home again while still returning to your life in Spring Court. 

You had worked furiously hard to bring your aide work across Prythian. Beron’s death saw a shift in response to sharing resources, and your vision of aide without borders gained traction. With hundreds of healers and the likes now working for your charity - your mission was funded and supported by all seven courts. 

The little foxes, you now called yourselves, in honour of Lucien Vanserra and his legacy of honour. Each court had specially built ‘dens’, where fae in need could seek help, and where aide was dispatched to support across all courts. 

It was incredibly hard work that took the years you gave yourself, with many sleepless nights, and sometimes longer periods spent away from your mates. But it was successful, the cogs of your strategies came to life. 

You were overwhelmingly proud, and fulfilled for the first time in your life. Happiness was a plentiful beacon around you, and you felt yourself healing every day.

You spent spare time learning to harness your magic. Seeking experts across the continent, you learned to hone that powerful current, understanding your limits, your emotions, when to yield and when to take. You learnt new ways of using it, lighting fires or fuelling pressing mills, hunting large supplies of fish when food was in need. In those years, you had learned to help others in ways you never new possible. It was as if you were finally coming to life. 

Your heart was full – you had taken control of your life once more, working in boundaries that helped you thrive. And it was with that full, healthy heart that you forgave your mates, little by little, day by day. 

————

Mor let out a high-pitched squeel, shaking as she read the golden card in her hand, envelope floating to the floor as she bounced from foot to foot. 

“What is it?” Feyre asked from her desk, the High Lady buried in paper work.

“They’ve called it!”

“Called what?” Feyre asked with wide eyes, bewildered at Mor’s reaction. 

Snatching the card from the giddy blond’s hand, Feyre read the sparkling, cursive writing. Tears instantly brimmed at Feyre’s eyes as she met Mor’s lovesick smile.

Finbark Eversgreen requests the honour of your attendance to celebrate the marriage of Y/N, Cassian and Azriel.

Saturday, 2nd week of the third season.

The ceremony will be held at the Southern Spring Lake at dusk.

“Rhys! Come quick!”

————

AN: Ahhhh I hope you liked this lead up to the finale!! It was a pleasure to write the abundance of healing going around for all these characters!! The next part will focus on the wedding - but I'm always keen to hear what else you guys might want to see too. All in all, I'm actually excited to wrap up Our Girl tbh. It's sitting at 50,000 words so far and has been a really big piece for me! So thanks for joining me along the way. If you want to join the tag list for the finale, or any of my other stuff, drop and comments and let me know which one :) Much love!!! Nic

[munsster]

hold my hand through it

A/N: oh, nothing just thinking about being taken care of by a lovely boy :( (gif creds: @keery)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Summary: Even if there ends up being someone else to turn to, he hopes you always pick him. Especially now, battered and sore and desperate. 1.8k words.

Warnings: season 4 canon divergence, canon level gore, (secret) mutual pining, a hint of best friends to.... lovers?, hurt/comfort, pet names (sunshine, honey, baby), wound/scar description

The clench of your jaw and the way you slump into the dusty cushions of the Wheeler's old couch is telltale. Steve's side aches when your hand curls over your own ribs, the fabric of your band tee wet and sticky beneath your fingers. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie filter through the thickly fogged rooms, waving their flashlights up the steps and walls in slow circles. He watches the ashen air fill your lungs, the realization splintering your face, and you'd scramble to the bathroom if you could get up.

You glance up to find he's watching you.

"Steve?" you squeak. And tears spill over the rims of your eyes, down your cheeks, wetting the corner of your mouth and the column of your throat.

"Woah, woah," he huffs, skidding to his knees at your feet and winding his fingers around your wobbly wrist, uncertainty making you ache and hyperventilate even with his soft brown eyes honeyed over the blood like antibiotic. "Hey, eyes on me, sunshine, look at me."

But you're flickering between your soaked shirt and the delicate slope of his nose, between your scrape and the forgiveness he harbors in his slumped shoulders.

"There you go," he says, "can I...?"

You nod. Lifting your arms, it hurts. Like the skin was trying to heal just to be stretched apart again. You hiss, and he cradles your wrist back down.

"Ooh, careful, honey, don't push yourself. You've been hurt enough for one night."

"Is it bad? Steve," you cry, and he looks up to find your chin wobbling. It breaks his heart. "Steve, please, is it bad?"

"No. No, honey. It's alright." But the panic sets in around your eyes, wrinkling your forehead as blood trickles across your knuckle.

"How bad is it? Fffuck, it's bad, isn't it?" There's a maroon pool, slipping through the hardwood cracks beneath the tangle of your fingers and his.

"No, c'mon, you're fine. You're good," he huffs. Your eyes slink closed out of exhaustion or fear or the fact that it's so easy. "Baby, keep your eyes open, please. I'll go find a first aid kit. Promise me you'll keep 'em open 'till I'm back."

You frown, and his heart races. You were supposed to be the one to make it out. Back to reality. You were supposed to be his forever in the real world. Not just in this fucked up, pitch black underworld. Someone must be playing a trick on him. He's gonna wake up tomorrow to the sun hot on his face and you smiling sweetly back at him, fingers combing through his hair. He blinks hard just in case.

When he opens them, you're nodding.

"I promise." It sounds so weak dribbling from your cracked lips. Steve wipes the dirt from your jaw before darting to the lower level bathroom.

He roots desperately through the cabinets, sweat pricking across the back of his neck and his forehead and his scalp and his cheeks. God, he needs a shower and to make you better and to be home safe in his bed. With you.

You take a shaky, deep breath when he reappears with a dull, blue box under his arm. He sits beside you, wincing at the constricted noise that escapes your scratchy throat.

"What've we got... gauze, yes. Bandages, yes. Antiseptic, fuck yeah. We're in business, baby. Still with me?"

You nod weakly, hissing when he lifts your wrist into his lap. He watches your face as he rips the antiseptic wipes open.

"Gonna hurt, okay?"

A strangled sound escapes you and your head lulls onto his shoulder.

"Okay, sunshine. So proud of you, doin' great," he hums, pressing his dry lips to your damp temple. You grab for the hem of his sweater when he pats the blood from your gash. He can tell you're struggling to stay quiet, muscles tense and fingers wringing. You're tightly wound, and yet, you can feel yourself losing control.

Or maybe it's more like surrender. Relinquishment of your responsibility over your own blood. And you only do it because it's so easy to let him command it. Especially when he's so gentle in cleaning your wounds, why shouldn't you share your hurt if he's so willing to bear it.

His fingers spread neosporin over the cut, which is suddenly clean and only a little irritated. You can't help but watch him, so focused on packing the cotton and tightly sealing the wound with gauze.

"Alright?" Steve hums, and god, those brown eyes deserve their own gallery. He waits for an answer, but you're distracted and pouting at the thought of him putting your hurt before his own. Everyone has scrapes and cuts and soreness from climbing and running and falling. You saw it in his limp. And yet, he looked to you and didn't hesitate to kneel beside you and tend to your open wound. "Sunshine?"

"Yeah," you sigh, more sure than before, "feels better."

"Yeah?" he chuckles, "Feels better? That's good. I'm glad." He sighs, trying not to anticipate your reaction to the next step. He knows it's going to hurt. "Let's get you changed, okay?"

You bat your lashes up at him. That's what he was worried about. You're gonna do it, but it hurts his conscience to know how much pain the process will put you through. He stands from the couch, whipping off his sweater and shivering a little at the hellish chill.

Usually, you'd made a joke about his promiscuity. Something or other about him taking it all off. Maybe a catcall or two. He honestly misses it. The silence is deafening.

"Lift your arms."

You do, wincing and grating your teeth.

"Slowly. There you go." Once your arms are sufficiently above your head, he tugs at the soaked hem of your tee. He feels bad for cringing at the state of your side: sticky and dark red, a chunk of skin missing. Thankfully, it’s not too deep, but it still makes his heart clench.

He can’t bring himself to look in your eyes, knowing the strain and suffering he’ll find. Doe-wide and pleading as he tosses your shirt aside.

“Definitely won’t be needing that anymore,” he teases, looking at the bundled up pile of blood and cotton.

“Too bad,” you shudder, “that was my favorite.”

He grins.

With your arms still above your head, he carefully fits the rest of the gauze around your ribcage, cleaning the excess grime built up around the gash. He can tell you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as he pulls your hands through the sleeves of his damn yellow sweater. You always said it reminded you of a fuzzy bumble bee, a lingering title that he bore proudly.

He thinks you look so beautiful. Even now, streaked with dirt and ozzing blood. He thinks he'll never get used to your lazy smile and how you reach for his hand even when it hurts. His heart skips a beat feeling the warmth flood back into your fingers. "Careful, baby. Don't hurt yourself."

"Okay, Stevie," you whisper. You still have plenty of wounds that need tending to, but you're glad Steve was there for you. "Thank you."

He nods like it's all second nature. Shrugs it off like he didn't just save your life.

"Know what I'm looking forward to?" Steve says. It cuts through the fog suddenly. A welcome breath of fresh air in a conversation. "French toast."

You laugh, but stop short at the pinch of your ribs.

"Shit. Didn't mean to make you laugh. Well, I mean I did, just didn't intend for it to hurt," he says, looking a little guilty. Then, he looks over at you and his stomach drops. "Honey—"

"Sorry"—you choke a little, tears pouring hot down your cheeks, leaving clean streaks through the sheen of grime—"Sorry, I don't know why I'm crying."

"It's okay, you can cry. C'mere," he hums, resting your head back on his shoulder. He catches a tear from your cheek on his knuckle, wiping it on his collar then pushing the hair from your face.

"I'm just," you sigh. "I think I'm overwhelmed. And in pain. Obviously."

He smiles, sympathy tugging at his heartstrings when you inhale sharply.

"I know." It's mumbled against your forehead, his eyes closed and his voice hushed.

...

Eight months and a couple stitches later, the scar tissue on your forearm glistens gossamer in the sunlight as you face the push-door to the Hawkins gym. There’s a low roar coming from inside; the squeaking of shoes and blaring brass section welcomes you back. Steve had asked you to be his date to Lucas’ last game of the season. You couldn’t refuse.

Steve spots you as soon as you enter, his caramel hair sweeping soft across his forehead. Free of all the sweat and blood and weight it had that twisted spring evening. Seeing you again makes his heart soar. Knowing for a fact you’re safe and healthy. It makes him sweeter on you than he’d like to admit.

You climb the bleachers to the spot he has saved next to him. He kisses your cheek, which surprises you.

“I thought we weren’t kissing in public, yet,” you whisper. Yet, he remembers. He had agreed to that, he supposes. Only after you’d both hastily shared one outside your door one night and decided it would be best to share the rest of them where the kids couldn’t tease you incessantly. He scrunches his nose, shoving his nervous hands into his jean pockets.

“Well, you still owe me a certain yellow sweater’s worth of kisses,” he teases, “Besides, I don’t think anyone noticed.” You scowl playfully up at him, nudging his side.

“I told you you could have it back!”

“Nah. Looks better on you anyway.” He shrugs. He wouldn’t take it back if it came with a million dollars cash. It’s rightfully yours. “You know what I could go for right now?”

You tilt your head in amusement. “French toast?”

“You know me so well.”

stranger things masterlist

[moonstruckme]

Hello:) maybe this a weird request ahah but I just got my n1pples pierced and I just know Sirius would go crazy for them, but what about James and Remus? Could you write something about poly!marauders (or whoever you think fits the most!) and Reader with those kind of piercings?

I'm sorry if this is too much or too personal! Thank you for your time<3

Hi lovely, you're so right! I decided to go with James because I think he'd be the most mystified by them, so I hope that's alright. Thanks for requesting :)

cw: pg-13 level smut

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 609 words

You’ve chosen a sheer top on purpose, so you can’t say you’re entirely surprised when James’ eyes go straight to your tits upon seeing you. 

“Baby.” The word comes out of him like an exhale, and you smile. “What’s happened to your nipples?”

You laugh. “They’re piercings, Jamie. It was intentional, I swear.” 

“You can pierce your nipples?” His eyes are huge behind his glasses, flitting between your chest and your face like he’s not sure where to look. “When did you have it done?”

“Last week,” you say. “I was waiting until they weren’t sore to show you.” 

“It’s so…hot.” James steps closer, transfixed. “I—wait.” He touches his fingertips to one corner of his mouth. “Am I drooling? I think I’m drooling.” You laugh again, and he grins at you, wrapping a big hand around either side of your waist. “Shit, sweetheart, they look so good. How long ‘til I can bite ‘em?”

Your expression sours. “Months. They take forever to fully heal.” 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, eager to rid you of your frown, “it makes sense that they would. Can I touch them?”

“Yeah,” you say, and James’ hands waste no time in slipping under your top, feeling upwards. “Just, be gentle for now, please,” you add hastily. 

He slows, probing carefully at the area around your nipples and watching your face for a reaction. “Do they hurt?” he asks, brows knitted in concern. 

You shake your head. “Not a lot. Not as much as they did at first.” 

He pouts at you, thumbs finding the cool metal and feeling about the piercings with curious, gentle touches. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, you should’a had me come with you.” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you say, and James smiles, dipping his head to kiss you. “Anyway, it was worth it.” 

“It is a great surprise,” he agrees. You chase him for more, pushing up on your tiptoes and taking his face in your hand. James’ grip tightens on your tits, careful not to push too hard near your piercings, but when his thumb brushes lightly over your nipple, you gasp.

He pulls back instantly. “Shit,” he says, hands sliding down to your sides, “I’m so sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you laugh. “No, the opposite.” James looks confused, and your grin turns bashful as you explain. “They’re still hurting a bit right now, but once they’ve healed enough that you can really touch them, they’re supposed to be more sensitive.” You give him a look, hoping he’ll catch your meaning. 

He does, his face lighting up. “You’re kidding.” 

You laugh. “I’m not.” 

James places a hand over his eyes and tilts his head back, as though communing with some higher power. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says. 

“The best thing?” you tease. “Christ, Potter, they’re just tits. I thought I was supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to you.” 

“Oh, don’t start with me, sweetness.” James’ hand falls from his eyes, revealing pupils that nearly eclipse his irises. He starts for you, and you giggle, retreating until the backs of your legs hit the bed. “I’ve got months to show you how much I love you,” he says, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal, writhing in his grip as he buries his face in your neck. Even when you both fall backwards onto the bed James doesn’t relent, keeping you pinned beneath him while he kisses sloppily at your jaw, your shoulder, leaving spit and bite marks in his wake. “Months and months, before I get to show you how much I love them too.”

[sirenmoth]

Monster Mash - Drider

CW: Bondage, body worship, vaginal fingering, restraints, cum smearing, scent marking, scent marking via cum, spider anatomy, cum insertion, (i promise it makes sense), (literally looked up if spiders have dicks and how spider sex works)

Monster Mash Masterlist

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Legs sore and trembling like a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time since opening its eyes, sleep still heavy and ever present on your mind as you try and traverse the massive manor you all share using the walls as support, still as naked as the day you were born. The sudden sound of quickly fast approaching scuttling footsteps and a pair of drow arms around your bruised waist alert you of a new presence as you are lifted into the air.

The relief you feel once you are off your feet, legs no longer shaking to keep you up-right, as the drider carries you away and towards his web, gently placing you into the centre like an ornate piece of porcelain, closing your eyes and letting yourself sink down into the sticky mass of string below. Your mind barely registers your limbs being moved around, lovingly and carefully being tied and secured in place by the driders own silk.

Eight spider legs and a set of drow arms come into peripheral vision as the drider climbs into his own web, taking his spot between your spread legs. Eight sets of eyes, six spider and two drow, borrow deep into your skull, never once looking away as the drider takes in his work.

A soft chitter echoes in your brain, "Still awake, my dear?" A breathy chuckle follows his question, "We are far from done, I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun." He says, nipping at the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, his silver snow-white hair falls over his shoulders, the light from the window casting a dull halo around it. "He just loves to ruin you for us, doesn't he, takes all the run out of it." None of them used each other's name, a way of showing their still burning distaste for each other.

The drider starts to rearrange your limbs once more, moving you this way and that until he finds the perfect positions for you to be relaxed and comfort, and for him to worship you and love you. Once your arms are resecured and restrained once again by his soft silk string, he moved onto your legs, replacing them, so your knees were pulled up close to your legs and spread open as wide as they could be. Small click and chirps of approval leave the drider mouth as he works, clearly pleased with his work and your compliance.

With your arms above and legs spread, nothing was left to the imagine, more than it usually was. You lie your head back into the web, the room the drider picked and claimed as his nest was always warm, despite being in a drafty attic, must be all the tightly-packed webbing the covers every corner and wall.

He covers your body with his, his torso slotting between your immobile legs, his spider legs curls under his spider abdomen as his drow arms trace the marks that dot your body left behind by the vampire, tiny hisses and grumbles can be heard every time he examines and assesses a new one.

"He does this on purpose, knows how sore you get after he feed, knows we have to go easy or wait until you heal enough." He tsks as he traces a bruising mark on your hip, "Don't worry, my darling light, I'll be gentle. Make this all about you." The drider kisses a huge mark where your neck and your shoulder conjoin, a bright red now turned blue-ish purple hue, carefully places his hands on your damaged thighs, lightly kneading the flesh, mindful of the bloomed bruises and healing bites that litter your skin.

Rolling your head to the side as your drider leaves a trail of kisses up your neck, his mandibles that sit where his drow half connects to the spider half move lightly, the small fangs at the ends of them gracefully dancing along your lower abdomen just above your cunt, careful not to puncture your skin. Soft kisses are placed just below your left ear, like the drider is trying to fix the marks your vampire lover left.

Those eight eyes always looking in your direction whenever you are near, no matter what either you two are doing, observing your action. He worships you like he would his drider queen, but only you have the pleasures of begging with him.

Little butterfly kisses are pressed against your temple and check, a small distraction while his finger trail downwards towards your dripping slit, tapping your clit with featherlight touches, you softly whimper at the feeling, mind still foggy from sleep and the soft silk webbing underneath was only adding to your delirious mindset. Unable to move due to the strands of silk that weave over and under your legs, you can only lay there and take it as the driders move lower, teasing your entrance. Twitching and squirming as the drider timidly plays with you.

You are like a fly, stuck in a spider's web, waiting in anticipation as the spider plays with you until it decides to devour you. Slowly, the drider slides three fingers into you with no warning, your body accepting him with ease. He pushes and pulls and presses at the sensitive nerve deep inside you, calculated strokes to make you fall apart all over again but to ensure you aren't hurt, the drider mandibles toy with your clit, nibbling and nipping at the exposed nerve while he studies you expressions, watching you moan and whimper, watching your attempts to squirm as you beg for more, for him to move faster.

Your drider takes pleasure in treating you like the most precious thing in the world, something that could break so easily, and he found joy in making you break while he had you tied up like this and his fingers deep inside you as your mind shatters in pleasure, sometimes he would use one of the toys you have, though him and the other eight never understood why you have toys when you have them, all you had to was ask, and they'd let you ride them or fuck you, or you fuck them, until you were satisfied. They do admit it is fun using the toys on you while they do their thing, they never use them as they do nothing for them.

One of the driders hands cups your left breast, squeezing the mound of flesh and pulling at the nipple between his fingers, tugging after each squeeze to create an unwavering, rhythmic sensation that sends euphoric shockwaves through your body. His fingers and hand move in opposite tandem of each other, when his fingers pull out his hand squeezes, slow and calculated, as he leaves small barely noticeable marks over the previous ones.

"So soft, your skin feels like the finest silk ever to exist," the drider mutters into your neck before biting over a mark the vampire left, "and all only for me." They all shared their own and mutual possession over you, displayed through the words they spoke while having a few fingers or a cock, sometimes cocks, pumping inside you, trying to outdo each other with their mark and claims.

Your whimpering and moaning only fanned the flame, the drider fingers sped up to a leg-shaking pace, or what would be if you could move your legs.

Low hums as the drider worships you and your moans fill his web as he coaxes you to cum on his fingers, "That's it, my darling, cum all over my fingers, mark me as yours." The squeezes on your breast grew more aggressive as his fingers move impossibly faster, the butterfly kisses turn into bites. You scream as you cum hard around his fingers as he curls them just right to hit your g-spot, your hole tightening as the mandibles stop their tweaking on your clit, resting against it as you catch your breath.

"So good, looked so pretty for me, so beautiful." The drider remarks, pulling his fingers out to admire your mess, mesmerized by the glimmer of white slick coating his fingers and the way it caught in the light. Bringing the slick covered fingers up to his mouth, he runs his tongue over the digits while keeping eye contact with you. Once he deems his fingers clean enough, he leans over you, "Lay back now, going to reposition you." He whispers into your right ear, you can do nothing but submit as he readjusts you, pulling you lower half high, so your sopping entrance lines up with his clicking mandibles, another chip and soft click once he finds the right placement.

You feel one of the fangs tracing your cunt, flinching at it as it runs up and down, collecting your cum. The drider pins you down under his drow half so he can work undisturbed, one of his hands stays put, playing with your hair while the other collects some of his own cum, letting it drip and run down your body, painting white streak with it across your skin as you try and piece together what the drider has planned. "Going to make you smell like me once I'm done, both inside and out, you'd look so breathtaking dripping with my cum."

Another kiss pressed just behind your ear, "See them try and get rid of my claim now."

One fang carefully slips into you, barely more than a few centimetres, while the other recoils in on itself, his free hand exploring your body like it's brand new to him all over again. The wetness between your thigh grows, you lift your head to watch as the fang that recoiled in returns with a clump of drider cum, pushing it into your gummy walls, quickly the drider reinserts his fingers back into you, forcing the large goop of white substance further into you, only retreating when the opposite fang wants to add its own ball of cum to the mix.

Your head falls back onto the web as your lover repeats the same process, the mixture of slick building between your thigh runs down and pass your ass, onto the web below to combine with the silk, making it near impossible to tell what's web and what's not. "Cum for me again, my love, I know you can do it." The drider murmurs, forcing your dreary head back up to watch as one of the mandibles insert another large goop of seman into you, the drider picks up what didn't make it in and smears it on to your skin. You watch as fangs switch, left right, left, right, the drider re-entering the same three fingers back into you between the pattern, fingering his cum far into you.

Your legs shake in the restraints, your hole clamping down on the drider fingers as your mouth falls open in a silent scream of ecstasy as you cum hard on his fingers, the drider slows down until he deems his cum is deep enough, only then does he pull his fingers out. More kisses are left on your cheeks and the hand comes up from your cunt to stroke your hip, your cum joining to the messy streak on you, the driders warmth bleeds into your own as you both lay chest to chest with each other, staying in this position even after you've both calmed down, his arms around you and his legs under his abdomen.

"Hey, are you going to untie me now? My limbs are going numb."

"Oh right. Sorry, my love."

[dreamerdaria]

Her thoughts are confused. She has no way of knowing how they ended up at this point: she almost slit his throat, and he apologised in his own manner.

His fingers end up on her neck, hot and rough. They burrow into her hair, and Hermione closes her eyes. The goosebumps make her legs shake. With a hoarse sigh, he leans towards her, closer to the sore corner of her mouth. His breath licks her palate as Hermione opens her mouth. Malfoy whispers, scorching her cheek with his damp breath:

"Hermione."

Her name, spoken in his voice, doesn't surprise her. She's heard it before. Once upon a time, long ago, she'd heard it. Once upon a time long ago she kissed him. Once long ago she looked into his eyes to find and reclaim herself.

A buzzing starts in her head. Just a little more, and her lips would touch his lips. Again. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to her.

Because she knows what it's like to love him. How it is to heal his wounds and kiss him and protect him.

Read Prometheus on ao3.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

King and his Queen

Daryl Dixon x Reader | [Pt.1]

After Daryl's match he gets treated like royalty by his loving partner.

Italics are flashbacks. Mild smut-ish at the end

Like clockwork you were down the stairs of your platform and down in the hallway that led to the cage where Daryl slumped against the wall. Out of view from the crowd he didn't have to pretend to be okay after taking a bad hit to the leg. Now he could be hurt and tired, and have you help him across the hall into your livin quarters where you would care for him with the most delicate touches that were like day and night compared to the harsh beatings he got in front of the crowd.

He needed your support to make it all the way into the bathroom where you helped him sit at the edge of the tub where he shifted back into his human form while you reached behind him to run the water and turning back to the sink. You heard the loud clanking of his metal claw tips and fang caps hit the floor as his shape no longer held the form they were made to hold onto.

"Here you go." Your hands held a cup of saltwater solution to rinse his mouth with, the other a container with metal caps to cover his broken teeth.

You watched as he rinsed his mouth and spat the solution back into the cup, handing it back to you to dispose of as he went to click the dentures into place and ran his tongue over the stubby fangs they replicated.

Daryl had never been as hungry as he was now, with the woods rigged in traps that were constantly under surveillance. There was no game left.

A scream caught his attention and he rushed out to the sound, he was in no way or shape against eating humans to survive right now, especially if they're already trapped.

Except the woman wasn't, instead she was cornered by the undead. He couldn't eat infected flesh, he had to go grab her before they did.

Tearing through the small group was a simple task, and the woman was happily thanking him over and over again, nit realising his true intentions until he had her cornered as well. He snarled at her, baring his teeth but was met with a curious stare. "I like your stubby little fangs, they're cute."

He could only grunt in confusion and snap at her, his eyes and fangs now changed and showing he did mean harm. But the loud grumble of his stomach seemed to ruin his scary vibes, and your offer of sharing food had him easily convinced not to eat you just yet.

WIth the tub filling up and your fist aid kid splayed open on the side Daryl felt content. You fed him when he was starving then, and now still tend to his wounds after each match. "M'lucky ta have ya, love."

His eyes were on you where you sat jn front of him, disinfecting the deep cuts on his leg before they fully healed and trapped an infection.

"Still happy you didn't eat me back then?"

With his hand hanging in the soapy water behind him he rolled his eyes at you. "Can still do tha', ya live with a monster, remember?"

You only laughed at him and pat his leg, telling him to go lay in the tub.

The hot water was a blessing for his sore muscles, laying down and letting his skin soak up the warmth.

"Daryl, if you decided to eat me it'd be in bed, with my thighs around your head." An excited hum left the fighter, his brows raised in interest but you quickly shot him down. "Wash up first, then we can get dirty again later."

“Hmhmm, fine.” He slid down further into the tub, only being above the water from the nose up. You took the opportunity to soak his hair and give it a wash, making him sit back up to scrub at his healed over skin. The way he knew your routine by heart made his after match cleaning so much easier, and of course the fact that he trusted you enough to see him fully nude in the tub.

He felt like royalty with how you treated him, holding his ankle in your hand as you took a sturdy brush to his toe claws. The darkened skin of his toe pads and the ball of his foot were always so rough, a lingering wolf feature that became permanent over time.

“Hey, Dee.” Your voice pulled him from his work, skinning a rabbit in your shared tent. “Don’t hate me for suggesting it, but I think I know how we can get a chance at a better life..”

Your current lifestyle wasn’t it. While Daryl didn’t mind the woodsy life, you weren’t adapting well to it and it slowly took a toll on your mental health. But you were living with a werewolf, which brought a lot of good things like having a skilled hunter who brought meat home, and never being cold at night while you cuddled close to him.

“Wha’s the plan, bun? Ya gotta talk ‘fore I can judge.” He had stopped working to listen to your probably insane plan.

“So, I overheard some guys talking about monster fighting—“

“No.” The plan was shot down immediately, without even hearing more of it. “Ain’t gon’ let ya use me as a pet.”

That was, of course, until he was out on a full moon and almost got captured by the men you had mentioned before. He overheard them talking about sedating and selling him as he hid long enough for them to believe he ran off.

It was how he ended up in his shifted form for much longer than he preferred, having to pretend to be a feral beast instead of an intelligent creature.

Even being toweled dry was done gently, careful of any skin that was still red and irritated where healing wounds had just been. Especially his leg still looked angry, the previously bleeding tears now only tinted red streaks of skin, waiting to settle overnight.

You brushed Daryl’s hair after towel drying it, making sure it was detangled entirely before letting him leave the bathroom.

He could feel your lingering stares as he made his way to his stash for some underwear and a robe. Never really wearing many of his old clothes anymore and even having you make adjustments to his current ones.

He knew your eyes were on his lower back, at the end of his spine where his tailbone protruded and shaped an immobile stub that made each and every pair of trousers a hell to wear.

"Quit starin'." The remnants of his beast form barely bothered him anymore. He knew to watch out and not snag his pointed ears when he brushed his hair in the morning, and had given up on shoes and socks a long while ago, going everywhere barefoot now. He didn’t mind the extra fuzz that remained on his legs either. But this one was different. He found it gross and ugly, always hiding it away in loose boxer shorts or underneath a robe.

You on the other hand found it cute how he sported the little tail stub nowadays, always trying to lighten the mood around it by mentioning it could stay a full tail by the end of his next transformation.

Daryl threw on the soft robe and hid himself in it, sitting down on the edge of your shared bed and watched you go get the new supply delivery and put it away before disappearing into the kitchen.

The smell of fresh fruits being cut up filled his nose and had him up to find you in seconds.

His arms wrapped around your waist in a loving embrace as he stuck himself against your back. The scruff on his chin scratched your cheek as he nuzzled you and purred. “Yer bein’ eager with those.”

“Well, I was gonna share with you, but if you’re being a jackass about it I’ll keep it all for myself.” You stuck out your tongue at him and fed him a small piece of apple, which he accepted with a careful bite.

“Would my king like to be fed in bed?” You turned around in his grasp and kissed his chin, wrapping your arms around his neck to get better access. While one hand snaked around your waist once more, the other one went behind your back and grabbed another piece of fruit. “King, huh.” He spoke around the food and moved to squeeze your behind. “Come a long way from bein’ yer guard dog.”

“Name and species.” The grump at the building’s entrance spoke. You had gone through the same process to get into the surrounding part of town already where you were checked bag after bag, every single pocket on your outfit included.

“Dixon. Werewolf.” Your tone was clearly one of boredom, albeit fake, you had to get in there to fight in order to get some food and a sucky roof over your head. Pretending you weren’t desperate was the best plan for now. Daryl listened intently to the conversation being held between you and the man, taking in all the important info without reacting to any of it, having to pretend to have lost most of his human skills in order to be allowed to fight.

After a while of back and forth you were allowed in, on the condition of being escorted to a waiting room, and keeping ‘Dixon’ chained. It was clear from his angry look you were going to get scolded for letting random strangers put chains on him, but for now it all seemed to work.

"This is your temporary room. If you survive today and decide to stay and fight you'll get something permanent." The man who escorted you turned on his heels to move on with his day, but not before muttering some last words. "For as long as your beast lives of course."

Later that day Daryl was thrown into the fighting cage and you were escorted to your spot up high. "Command him from here. You're allowed to head down after the last bell rings."

Down on the floor you saw Daryl, now Dixon, look around at the crowd in confusion and being caugh off guard by the loud voice announcing his fighter name, "and another newcomer" as well. His head snapped back down at the sound of the second door unlocking and revealing his first oponent..

"Yeah, well." You took his hands off you and started towards the bed, taking the bowl of fruits with you. "You're still my guard dog. I can't defend myself for shit." With a wink back to where he stood you turned the corner and disappeared from his view. While your words didn't sound like a compliment, he took them like one and stood there a moment taking it in.

The scene when he rounded the corner was one he'd never get enough of. You had ditched your jeans and top and were now on the bed in sweats and a shirt that hung off one shoulder. The bowl of fruit sat betwden your legs and your back rested against the stupid amount of pillows you kept on the bed. You were on one half of the bed, always making sure there was enough space for Daryl to join you, and he did. He sat down and stretched out beside you, not wasting a second to nudge you and gesture he wanted some fruit.

"Oh, of course your majesty." With a soft giggle you fed him bit after bit, putting pieces between your teeth and feeding him some like that too. You just relaxed and snacked until the bowl was emptied.

The groan that came from beside you reminded gou of the fact you skipped on tending to your precious fighter's aching muscles after the fight.

Putting the bowl aside on the floor you sat up and pat Daryl on the hip. "Roll over, baby. Lemme give you a massage."

With a low rumble deep in his chest he rolled over onto his stomach, his face towards where you still sat beside him with your upper body hanging off the bed to find the bottle of lotion you kept around. He was having a hard time resisting the urge to slap your ass, but he knee better than to risk having you topple off the bed and have him sleep on the couch you barely ever used.

Daryl shivered as the cold ointment touched his skin but quickly relaxed into the matres when your ministrations began. Within the first minute you had him purring beneath you, letting out soft moans and grunts when you worked out tough knots.

"Yer too good fer me, princess." His words came out almost in a moan. You knew exactly how and where to touch him go get all the pretty noises out of him. His back was something you always loved. Before all of this when you could stare for hours as he gutted a deer, watching his muscles ripple under his skin. But nowadays even more with the large wings carved into them.

The words of Dixon claiming the title of King spread fast, and all of a sudden people were challenging him with their own werewolves, believing it was an easy way to win with one in your corner. But obviously it wasn't seeing he still took out each and every one of them.

More and more wolves came in, and with those a whole bunch that sported fur patterns similar to Daryl's, making it difficult to keep them apart as they were at each others' throats.

"We really need to find something to make you easy to identify with all those wolves coming in lately. I swear I almost screamed at the wrong dog earlier.." You huffed and fell on your bed, shooting up only a second later. "Oh! I got something." And then you slumped back down again. "But you'll probably hate it again.."

"Can ya please start tellin' me yer plans 'fore decidin' I'll hate 'em?" Daryl came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. "Remind ya how great this one turned out. Almost livin' the new world dream 'ere."

You had to agree with him. If you ignored the fights to the death every couple of days it was one hell of an upgrade. "Alright, so your wings that you always wore before. What if we get them on you?"

"On me how, exactly?" He turned to look at you, still hunched over the basket of clean clothes to find his comfortable pants.

"There's this guy in town. He does tattoos and scar stuff. I'm sure if we give him a silver tool he can put those wings on you. With sikver they'll scar for sure and you'll always be recognisable."

The huff as Daryl pulled up his pants was almost enough of an answer for you, already admitting defeat when he spoke up.

"Got no fights fer the next two days. We'll go see'em t'morrow. Ain't changin' back now, just took a damn shower."

With each rough shove of your knuckles over groups of sore muscles you got a groan in return. "Yeah, my King loved getting his back rubs."

The satisfied humm that left his lips was enough motivation to keep going, rubbing right above his hips and working at the sore spots. You took some extra ointment and slowly worked your hands over his spine, circling downward ever so carefully, reaching the base of his tail and continued on.

The first reaction you got was a growl, telling you to back off but seeing how he was clawing at the sheets told you a whole different story.

You decided to push your luck and continue down, pressing right where his tail started and earning a pillow muffled moan. You watched him with his face stuffed into a pillow, one claw tearing into it as well. "Fuck girl, why ya gotta do tha'?" He tried so hard to sound annoyed, but in reality he was barely hiding the need for more.

"But my King deserves only the best treatment. And it sounded almost like you were enjoying that." You had leaned down to softly whisper that last bit and give his ear a soft bite and a kiss before moving back up and continuing to rub at his tail. Each pass over his spine earned you a a moan, whine or humm until you found the perfect spot that had him rut into the matres.

The second Daryl noticed his involuntary response he mentally cursed himself. And of course you noticed, giving that one spot extra attention and massaging it exclusively.

"Hhah, stop pleease.." He was a writhing mess beneath you, knuckes white from the death grip he had on the bed and biting down on the pillow to muffle his pleasured sounds. His face colored the same shade of red as the freshly rubbed skin of his back. He could have easily snapped at you, grabbed you by the wrists and thrown you off him but none of that crossed his mind. He was so hard he was ready to cum within a couple more rubs.

His noises got louder and more intense with each movement of your skilled fingers, even if it got more difficult to be precise with the constant thrust of his hips.

"God I love your sweet sounds, so delicious.." It was so good to see another side of him, allowing himself to not be the strong beast for once.

"Shit, bun. M'gonna.." your fingers rubbed his spine just right and his coil snapped. With a long winded moan he finished in his pants, needing a minute to catch his breath before throwing you off him with a grunt. "Ya gon' clean tha' mess ya made now?"

With a soft laugh you agreed to do exactly that. "Anything for my King."

A/N: Man, this took me so long! Apologies for the wait~

[halestrom]

I made this gifset in an attempt to try not write the fic. It backfired. And I am really happy with the first scene so I felt like sharing 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

Warnings for: blood, violence, pain, underground fighting. It’s mob boss Jake and fighter Bradley.

The first punch was always the worst. The feeling of knuckles against his skin; the way his head snapped back as pain spread across his synapses; the sudden urge to run filling his bones until he felt jittery with the need; the way thought fled his mind but the training ground into his very being had his arms coming up to defend himself from a second punch. All of it happening in a split second as the crowd roared around them in muted joy at the blood he could feel trickling down his face and then the world rushed back in and Bradley was moving, dodging the next punch and instead throwing one of his own, catching his opponent high on the chin and watching as his head snapped down and he went down in slow motion.

The ref was there, arms as thick as tree trunks pressing against Bradley’s chest to push him back, the tattoos wrapped around his skin telling his story as easily as the scars on Bradley’s body told his. Still, his opponent kept falling until he hit the mat and laid there, bleeding, eyes closed as his team screamed at him to get up, to get moving, to do something as the time wound down in flashes as the crowd screamed along with the coach because they wanted more blood than they already had, spattered around the ring that looked nicer than it should have for the world it belonged in.

But that was the nature of this world. Shiny, pretty things covered in blood, a veneer over the dark underground Bradley had found himself in. It was easy to forget, sometimes, what this world could do, with its brightly lit parties, the men and women dressed to the nines with flashing jewelry and perfectly done hair, outfits that cost as much as a new home. It was all a cover for the darkness, for the jockeying for the front row on the off chance some of the blood would fly over them, a badge of pride to wear for how close to the violence they could get. Bradley had been at more than one afterparty, face bruised and nose broken, again, only to talk to people who had blood splattered over theirs, some of the women with that blood splatter having smudged lipstick which told a tale as easily as the swollen lips of some of the men.

Violence and sex, a tale as old as time.

“Ten!”

The crowd screamed it’s joy as the ref grabbed his arm and raised it over his head, bare knuckles swollen and sore, his shoulder aching from a hit he had taken, the bruises over his ribs mottled and layered in various stages of healing. But all of it faded in satisfaction as he watched the other team pull his opponent out of the way of the rush of people, clamoring to get closer to him as his name was chanted.

“Your winner for the night ladies and gentlemen, Rooster!” the MC screamed into the mike, mouth twisted in a rictus grin, tall and thin and looking like the Grim Reaper himself in his black suit and pale skin.

Bradley knew his job, he knew what he needed to do to keep the favor as he shove his other hand up in the air and dropped his head back, crowing his victory, again, and spitting out the mouth guard, grinning with bloody teeth and split lips, his cheek aching even as the ref dropped his arm and people swarmed, hands clapping him on the back, hitting muscles covered in bruises as he worked his way through the crowd, accepting congratulations and smiling for flashing phones with his arms draped around women who let their hands drop lower than he wished, like he was just something else that was part of the setting and not a real person.

Sometimes, he doubted they thought of him as a real person. It probably made it easier.

He made it back to the corner, hands still clapping him on the back, fingers finding the sore spots and bruising them but he ignored it as he took the towel from his cutman for the night, wiping his face clear, the fabric ripped away from him as soon as he was done and he let it, bracing his arms on the ropes and letting his eyes slide from the cut man who was talking to a man in a fancy suit to a man dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt, looking so out of place with the rest of the peacocks but despite that, he looked like he belonged.

And he did. After all, this building belonged to him, the money that changed hands came with a tax that fed back into him, securing his empire with each punch thrown and real time bet made. Jake Seresin was at the top of this world, and like every other thing in this room, Bradley belonged to him.

“Good enough for you?” Bradley asked, forcing himself to smile around aching lips.

Jake smiled back at him, small and sharp and at odds with the coldness in his ice green eyes. “Better than, sweetheart,” Jake said, voice smooth and warm and it was a balm on Bradley’s bruises as he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

A good fight meant a good paycheck, something better than could mean a bonus. Something Bradley could use to chip away at the bills and put some money away so when his day finally came, his parents wouldn’t be left with the debt.

“Good,” Bradley said, folding his arms and resting his chin on them.

“Taking the hit at the end was inspired,” Jake said, taking a step closer until he was looking up at Bradley, head tilted back but Bradley knew who held the power here.

Crouching until they were eye to eye, Bradley left his hands on the top rope, keeping himself steady as Jake stepped ever closer, reaching out to brush a thumb over the bruise Bradley could already feel swelling his eye closed. “Half the idiots in the room upped their ante on you getting KO’d. Idiots.”

The derision wasn’t masked, but Jake never needed to mask anything. Not with his power, not with the three bodyguards Bradley could make out, and the loyalty of half the room. Bradley shrugged when it seemed like Jake was waiting for an answer. “Wasn’t thinking,” he said, telling the truth.

Bradley didn’t think when he fought. He had an objective. Win. That was all he needed to do and anything else would get in the way. Once upon a time he had thought more, building up the tension until he struck. But that was a long time ago, a different person. He couldn’t risk being that person anymore, not when he needed to keep standing.

Jake smiled like Bradley had said something funny and leaned in, hand still cupping Bradley’s jaw, thumb pressing down on the edge on the bruise until Bradley hissed at the bloom of pain, ignoring the way his pulse pounded. “Regardless, a fight like that deserves a reward. So what do you want, darlin’?”

Money. A way out. A year without something going wrong. To get rid of the axe hanging over his mother’s neck as each month passed and her cancer stayed in remission. To go back in time and beg God a little bit harder for a miracle so Bradley wasn’t drawn into his life. He wanted a lot of things. Jake Seresin might be god in this world, but Bradley knew better than to pray to the devil.

“A good days sleep,” he said dryly, smiling at Jake who huffed, a ghost of something Bradley might almost classify as a real smile ghosting his lips for a second.

“Oh, I think we can arrange that,” Jake said, moving his hand and rubbing a thumb over Bradley’s bottom lip before dropping his hand, but not before Bradley saw the red smeared on it. He licked his bottom lip and tasted salt and copper where there had only been copper before.

“Oh yeah?” Bradley asked, tilting his head to the side, wondering what Jake meant.

Jake gave him a once over before he nodded. ���Finish up and then clean up, Rooster. Meet me in my office. We’ll get you out of here before dawn.”

Bradley knew a dismissal when he heard it and he nodded, standing and ignoring the ache in his muscles as he turned back to the crowd, aware of eyes on him, once again aware of the role he needed to play as he thrust arms up into the air and crowe. It was all the crowd needed before they surged, content with the knowledge Bradley had paid his dues to the man who owned all of them and now he was fair game.

Hands grabbed him and he was pulled into the crowd, the world reduced to flashes and half heard comments and Bradley focused on it, letting himself get drawn into it so he didn’t have to think about an opponent he would never see again, and a meeting in an office that had turned him down this path and taken him from aspiring MMA fighter to Jake Seresin’s prize fighter.

[in-halingstardust]

Feral

A/N: LISTEN if the people of Xianzhou all have animal like characteristics, that means Jing Yuan...hehehehhe. I MIGHT do a pt.2 depending on my mood lolll Tags: !mdni, rough sex, feral sex, subtle or not subtle flirting, one night stand. NOT PROOFREAD, meaning I will be editing later in the week but 3am thoughts go hard

Jing Yuan is more than meets the eye.

He was soft spoken with an undertone of authority hidden between soft smiles as he instructed Yanqing in the garden. You see daily, or at least as frequent Yanqing's lessons were, as you balanced a tray of snacks and tea placing it off to the side for their break. You groan. It was difficult to balance with how sore you were feeling. Jing Yuan, you found out, is also feral in bed.

Not that he pay attention to you after just one night.

"It's nice to see you today."

You gasp as the general himself stands about five feet away from you put together like the general he is. Nothing looks out of place until your eyes meet his and they slowly trail down to his jaw line. His barely exposed neck peaking out of his collar and you can clearly see the bruises you left on him last night. Your mind is clearer today and your embarrassed with how pale the marks you left on him are compared to the marks he left on your body.

Your face flushes into a bright red, you had the decency to cover up any semblance of that night by wearing a light bronzer that muted the angry red and blues scattered across your neck and chest. The marks on your thighs where he gripped to 'open you wider' were still a healing purple. Not to mention the multiple bites littered across your back.

Scratch that. It was a miracle you were still walking today.

You gulp, as you can feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest, the tray clinks against wood as you try to speak but he was already right there next to you.

His palm moves the strand of hair away from your face with such gentle care compared to how feroucious he was last night. He rubs a calloused thumb against you temple, his supple lips frowning as he steadies your shaky hands clasped against his.

The low baritone of his voice slips through his lips, "It doesn't seem as you were running a fever," he purses his lips as if in thought as he comes in closer and you let out a squeak, his voice caught by your ear in a soft whisper, his tone ending with a tinge of amusement "Was I too rough last night?"

Of course he was, but you loved every moment. Not that you admit it. You were to embarrassed how many times you screamed his name as he ate you out.

The way he had your face pushed down into the pillows ass up in the air as his gripped your waist like a lifeline, pounding to reach every part of you. If your arms would give out he would support you against himself. Your back curling against his chest as he press his hand on your hip making sure you wouldn't jerk after the countless mind bending orgasms that led you close to a spiral of overstimulation. His hand reaching across to grip your chin making you twist your head towards him as he kisses you beyond breath.

You remember this all too clearly and you break away from his hand looking towards anything that doesn't remind you of the man who fucked you so well until you couldn't even remember your own name.

"I'm- I'm fine!" You breathe in and out, feeling the red fade into a pink cherry instead, "You're just a little close that's all."

You peak out of the corner of your eye and you see the face of a man that reads, 'Were we not close last night?'

And you should be applauded for your people reading skills because Jin Yuan places a hand across his mouth the same way he does when thinking about the next move on the chess boards and simply mutters, "I thought we enjoyed making lo-"

You dart out- delicate hands covering his mouth before Jing Yuan could finish the sentence. You peak behind his frame and you still see Yanqing dedicated to swinging his sword.

You pout as you see amused eyes from underneath his bangs conveying all meaning, you frown. He is so sly.

A whisper well more of an sheepish mumble, "I did enjoy last night but," a little more confidence goes through your voice, "its a little much to hear you say it- if you know what I mean?"

He looks amused, as if the person in front of him was not gasping between his hands last night, he slides your hands away from his mouth grasping them again, "Then, how about another round tonight?" And he knows exactly the hold he has on you because he kissed the inside of your wrist his eyes peering up towards yours

"I'll be more gentle this time. I promise."

[chigirisprincess]

— Ajax

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!reader, sfw, mentions of wounds and medicine, one "good boy", nursing back to health, banter, secrets, and strange soup. ⊹ Run time. 3.4k ⊹ Note. Wah! I hope you enjoy this chapter friends!! Life has slowed down for me a bit so I'm finally able to focus on this baby once more <3

❝You get to know the strange man who was dumped on your doorstep as he awakens from his slumber.❞

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Confusion swims within the murky depths of the man’s eyes. He blearily blinked up at you, his body sluggishly reacting to the unfamiliarity that surrounded him. Snatching your hand away from his head, you press it into his shoulder, keeping his feeble figure pinned to the floor.

“Don’t move,” you lowly murmur, mustering up a strict tone, “You’re very badly injured.”

Cursing to yourself, you fight the urge to roll your eyes, as if that wasn’t obvious. Surely every pain receptor in his body was screaming out in agony, his jaw was tense and held stiffly in place, likely biting back a moan of pain. Your lips deepen into a frown, if he was awake, changing his bandages would be far more difficult. You could hardly stomach the sound of a crying baby, the thought of this stranger writhing around in pain beneath you made your stomach turn.

“Your comrades brought you here to heal.”

A shaky breath passes through his lips and his eyes fall shut for a moment. You watch, tendrils of your hair spilling over your shoulder as you lean over him.  Slowly, he raises one hand to his lips, tapping his callous fingers against the cracked skin. Water, he probably wants water. Your legs tremble as you hoist yourself from the ground and scuttle around the kitchen. Half a pitcher sits in your ice box, you make a mental note of visiting the well soon. You’d need more to clean his wounds, his clothing, him.

There’s a chip in the first cup you grab and you hope he’s far too out of his mind to notice it. He peers up at you from the corner of his half lidded eyes. The corners of his mouth quirk up into a lazy smile when you round the sofa, cup in hand. He mouths a “Thank you,” eagerly tilting his head up to meet the lip of the cup. You have half a mind to chastise him for the strain but no words find your mouth. Some of the water dribbles down his chin and jaw, spilling into his hair. Now that it’s dried, the ends have begun to curl into a fluffy orange mess. The end of your shirt makes a fine handkerchief as you wipe up the water. His jaw is stubbly, skin warm and clammy. 

Smoothing back a stray curl, you turn to dig through your wagon. Draff had piled it full of old clothing that was large enough to fit him, furs, and a few old quilts. Tossing a pale blue and yellow blanket over his mostly bare body, you sighed. His bandages would need to be changed, his wounds redressed soon but his lingering consciousness made you weary.

You’d used the last of your salves that were imported from Bubu Pharmacy on the nasty fissure that ate away at his abdomen. You could make do with the basket of wolfhook berries you were saving to make jam. You vaguely remember reading in some dusty tome at the library that wolfhook berries were used to soothe pain and had a hemostatic effect, whatever that meant. Surely, it’d be a good enough remedy. The mist flower corolla’s that kept your ice box chilled made a fine paste for sore muscles. You could apply it to the large bruises and lacerations that covered most of his body. It’d have to do until you could forage some more plants and get your hands on that herbalist book.

“Why don’t you try to get some rest,” you whisper to the man when you notice his eyes have cracked open once more, “Archons knows you need it, hm?”

The joints in your knees crackle to life when you rise from the floor, your hands pressed to the plush flesh of your hips. You mentally go down the list of household chores that were begging for your attention, the thought alone of how much work was needed made whatever satisfied peace within you deflate.

You settle on doing the washing, dragging inside the large metal basins filled with last night's rainwater. The cecilia soap you drop in the basin is delicately floral. If you shut your eyes for long enough, you could almost imagine yourself at the very top of Starsnatch Cliff with the wind rustling through your hair and dancing through your billowing shirt. You remember the last time you went, the details seared into your mind. Somehow, you managed to drag Kaeya, Diluc, and Jean to explore the Thousand Winds Temple in the midst of a summer heat wave. You wove crowns out of cecilia’s and stripped yourselves of your shoes and shocks to splash around in Starfell Lake. 

It felt as though a million years had passed since then. 

You supposed, a million years had passed.

Everything was wrong when you returned home from Mondstadt. You weren’t much better off, a shell of your former self and a reclusive who hardly left the archaic cottage you called home.

“Is,” the man starts, coughing a bit before speaking again, “Is the washing difficult?”

You blink back to reality, a frown replacing the wistful expression that ate away at your visage, “I thought I told you to get some rest?” You question with a quirk of your brow.

Looking into the basin, you realised you’d begun to roughly clasp the bar of laundry soap in your hand. It crumbled beneath your nails and flaked off to the bottom of the tub.

“It’s not difficult, I just got lost in thought, that's all.”

Your face warms. There's an inexplicable urge that bubbles up your throat to defend your actions though there was no judgemental edge to his tone. Just curiosity. 

He languidly blinks up at you. It’s difficult to discern what he may be thinking with the sluggish shadow that follows his movements. You think that he’s studying you, not that he’d have much luck. Surely, his mind was still rather addled with pain, and clouded by the mourning flower extract that you slipped under his tongue while he slept. The merchant who sold it to you claimed it relieved the mind and body of pain from sundown to sun up. 

“Ajax,” he finally whispers, you almost missed it, “My name … is Ajax.”

Oh.

That’s right, the two Fatui henchmen never gave you a name. Just a set of instructions and him. It never occurred to you to ask. Your scattered brain had nearly lost its wits from the shear stress that ping ponged through your veins. Ajax. He had a nice name, the name of a hero. Your heart nearly split in two. He must have been like you, hopelessly entangled in the carelessly cruel traps laid by the Tsaritsa. You pondered what dreams he might have once possessed, if he’d have liked to live up to his namesake? Or, if he’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely whatever misfortunes that befell him were moulded by the treacherous hands of the Fatui. You couldn’t fathom how a trained soldier could have been injured to this extent, but a dreamy eyed young man? You walked a similar path. You were lucky that you came out the otherside as unscathed as you did.

Offering him your name, you soften your expression, “You have a pretty name,” you murmur, flexing your fingers in the frigid water to fight off the shiver that travels up your forearms.

“You stole my line,” he rasps, chuckling a bit to himself until a pang of pain interrupts him, “Shit…”

Water splashes over the lip of the tub when you jump to your feet, nearly tripping over the damn thing on your way to him. Your brows crease together in concern, wiping your hands dry on the back of your trousers, you reach for the quilt covering him.

“Can I check?”

He nods, his face scrunched up in a wince. Peeling back the blanket, you press your hands against his tensed abdomen. Nothing had seeped through the gauze, you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. A shiver wracks through Ajax’s body when you slide your frigid fingers along the length of his stomach. Mumbling a quick apology, you peel back, shuffling away from him.

“Try not to laugh or move too much,” you gently murmur, tucking the blanket back up to his chin, “I don’t want you tearing your stitches, they’re much more painful the second time around.”

Ajax nods again, “Aye aye captain,” he grins to mask the discomfort. His smile doesn’t fall in spite of the point look you give him, it only grows wider.

You wonder once more how he could have found himself in this predicament. It's while gazing in the depths of his hazy blue eyes that you decide him to be a mirror image of yourself. An unfortunate, wretched thing who stupidly sipped fire water all too readily and downed a second glass though the burn of the first never faded. A loan from the Northland Bank, perhaps to aid the pursuit of something that filled his soul with liquid sunlight. Or, maybe a favour that spiralled into a debt that could never be repaid. It didn’t matter much in retrospect when it landed him in the same precarious situation you struggled to survive in. A small thanks to Barbatos floats past your lips. Quite enough that he wouldn’t register the words as common tongue.

“What did I just say,” you scold, in the most authoritative tune you’re able to muster.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.”

Brushing a few damp strands away from his eyes you sigh, “It’s not me you should be apologising to.”

He nods a bit to himself, averting his gaze to the wooden beams that span across your ceiling. A few potted plants hang from the rafters, their wilting green leaves swinging in the breeze. They were a hassle to water. The chains were too short. You’d need a ladder to reach them. Diluc had come by to fix a hole in your roof when you’d hung them, you had no tools of your own. Even after a year of returning home.

“Rest and when you awaken you can have something to eat,” he must be hungry, the travel to Mondstadt from anywhere past Liyue was long and arduous, “And, perhaps something to drink if you’re able to keep your food down.”

“Alright, I’ll try.”

Ajax keeps his eyes shut only until your back is turned. You face away from him while you do the washing and hum an old Mondstadt lullaby beneath your breath. The heat of his gaze slowly simmers as slumber welcomes him back into its welcoming embrace. You release a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. Dunking your arms into the cold, soapy basin, you hold them there until the chill is too much for you to bear and then, move on, ridding your water closet of the blood stained nightgown that you left on the floor. 

The sight of it makes your stomach churn with disgust. The crimson colour turned a ruddy brown but the sharp metallic scent still lingers. You wish you could use it to fuel the hearth but the chill of winter had not yet left the long spring nights in Mondstadt. You needed the warmth if you were to care for this man. The hours you spend scrubbing leave the white flannel stained and tinged an unappealing pinky hue. Your hands tremble, skin stinging from where you’ve rubbed yourself raw from your fervent scrubbing. You hang your clothing to dry with a sigh, mechanically shuffling through your cottage to clean your things before hunkering down in the kitchen to cook some warming broth for Ajax.

He stirs once more long after the sun has been laid to rest. The smell of frying vegetables and fragrant herbs tickling his senses. 

You feel his eyes on you before he even thinks of speaking. In the hours that passed you changed his bandages twice and kept a damp rag against his forehead to chase away the fever. The clear broth that bubbled and boiled at your hearth should burn the rest of the infection from him. The medley of dried herbs and whopperflower nectar you mixed together were supposed to be an effective remedy according to the sparse notes you’d taken on the herbalist book you read months ago. You weren’t brave enough to try it, the fluorescent yellow of the nectar made the broths colour an unusual shade. A slice of fisherman's toast for the third day in a row suddenly seems far more appealing than it did an hour ago. 

A shiver slices through your spine and an unwelcome heat tinges the apples of your cheeks. It strikes you that the scene splayed out across your cottage is strangely intimate. You’ve never cooked for another, let alone a man who lay half bare in your abode. Though the situation was forced, you couldn’t help but feel strangely.

“I haven’t had a home cooked meal in quite some time,” Ajax murmurs when you scoop a ladle full of broth into a bowl to cool. 

Your skin seems to burn even hotter.

“Not to get your hopes up but, I’m not much of a cook,” you pronounce, bringing over the food on a small wooden tray  to where he rests, “And I think this is more medicine than it is a meal.”

Your hands tremble when you help him sit up, his back resting against the sofa. His skin is still warm to the touch but less clammy. The firm muscles that make up his abdomen rippled beneath your touch and you flinched away.

“Any meal is a good meal.”

Slowly stirring the broth, you gently blow into it. The steam dissipates for but a moment before it swirls over top of the bowl again, “Did your mother teach you that?” You ask while scooping some of the soup up for him, “Or, are all Snezhnayan men this philosophical.”

You spoon the broth into his mouth before he can answer, hoping your question caught him off guard enough that he swallows on instinct before the bitter taste seeps into his tongue. His brows knit together in clear discomfort. Still, he swallows it down without complaint.

“Good boy,” you murmur, spooning another scoop into his mouth.

His face reddens considerably darker. You pay it no mind, ignoring your own searing flush of awkwardness that eats at the apples of your cheeks. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, catching the few bits of broth that dribbled out from the corners of his mouth. You use your sleeve to dab what he misses, taking note of how stubbly his jaw is. He might like to shave but you had no razors and no money to spend for such a luxury. Ajax leans slightly into your touch before seeming to remember himself, pulling away until you hold another spoonful up to his mouth.

“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs between bites, “A bit bitter.”

You hum in agreement, “Whopperflower nectar is unexpectedly bitter.”

Ajax eats in silence until the bowl is finished, without complaint.The slice of fisherman's toast that's gone cold next to you feels strangely unappealing, but you still bring it to your mouth and nibble on the crust, avoiding Ajax’s surprisingly intense gaze.

“How did you know I was from Snezhnaya?”

“Your name,” you hum, your tongue flicking out to lap up the crumbs of toast on your lips, “And your accent, you speak Mondstadtian well but some of your pronunciation indicates that its not your native tongue.”

Tossing your mostly untouched toast aside, you lean back and peer at Ajax. He watches you in return, the air perfumed with scrutiny. The tendons in his hands and arms flex as he absentmindedly racks his fingers through your rug. The hearth across your room gently crackles with dying embers, it fills the space your silence has carved out.

With a tilt of his head, Ajax juts his chin at you, “So are you native to Mondstadt?” He questions, furrowing his brows, “I happened to think my Mondstadtian is quite good.”

“It is, it’d be enough to fool and outlander,” you muse, “But, not quite good enough for someone who was born and raised in the city of wind.”

Ajax looks at you for a moment with what you think is confusion. He must be wondering how you’ve become entangled with the Fatui, perhaps unaware of their enteral, oppressive presence that looms over the region and the eyes that watch from their bunker at Goth Grand Hotel. Frustration eats away at you, and eats away at the skin you pick off of your cuticles soothe your frayed nerves. The knights were useless, allowing spiders to weave webs all over Mondstadt– Grand Master Varka too busy galavanting across Teyvat and sparing Harbingers for fun to protect the city as he was supposed to. In spite of her station, Jean Gunnhildr could to little without the express permission of Varka, allowing the Fatui to darken Mondstadt’s doorstep each passing day.

“Do you like it here?” He asks, almost hesitantly.

As a child you did.

When you reached adolescence you wished to fly far away from Barbatos’ reach. Anywhere but Mondstadt is what your heart longed for.

While life here was rather monotonous, lacking any excitement outside of the local festivals, you supposed you did enjoy your life here. Sure, you might have liked to be free of the debt that weighed heavily upon your brow, but Mondstadt was home. Even after all the mistakes you made, the cruelties you spewed, and the bridges you seared with your rage, it would always welcome you into its warm embrace. Thank Barbatos, those here were far kinder than you would ever be.

Shrugging your shoulders you sigh, “It's home,” is all you say, “There is no place like it.”

“That’s oddly evasive.”

“You’ve just woken up after being unconscious for how long?” You roll your eyes, “What do you know about being evasive?”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, “All I’m saying is that you didn’t answer my question.”

“Do you like it back in Snezhnaya?”

You bite back a snippy comment about their icy climate. It sits on your tongue like a devilish impulse, misplaced amongst all your hatred for the Fatui. Surely the region wasn’t so bad. Master Diluc had little contempt for the people and fell victim to Fire Water like any other traveller, but aside from the venomous, vile puppeteers of the nation, he hadn’t a bad word to say about his time there.

“It’s home.”

His voice wavers, he’s far more unconvincing.

“Haha, very funny,” rising from the floor you dusty off your trousers, “Shall I say you’re being the evasive one?”

Ajax offers you a weak smile, watching as you pick up your dishes and bring them into your kitchen. He doesn’t project his voice, instead whispering quietly, “I have reason to be.”

You suppose he didn’t think you heard him.

You’d let him believe it so.

“I’ll be there in a moment, you must rest now, okay?” You call, your back turned to him as you set your plates upon the countertops.

“Worry not, I feel sleep coming over me.”

He’s laid himself flat against the floor by the time you’ve approached him once more. His chest rises and falls evenly, sleep having been swift and kind to take him so quickly. It isn’t so kind to you. You spend the hours after you’ve finished tidying with a racing mind and swirling stomach, tossing and turning about your lumpy mattress. Your freshly pressed and starched nightgown itches against your skin, begging you to peel it from your body. The smell of blood lingers beneath the fragrant cecelia’s. Throwing yourself out of bed, you pad over to your bedroom door and peer into the depths of your home. In the dim candle light, Ajax is nothing more than a lump on the ground.

You stare at him until the corners of your eyes sting, stepping closer and closer until you’re able to hear his heavy breath and slight mumbles. You stand over him until the sun peeks over the horizon, the stress of the day weighing heavily upon your back. A prayer to Barbatos stuck to your lips as slumber took you, one for guidance and luck to assuage your fears. Of Ajax, of the Fatui, of whatever it is he meant by those few words, and the secrets that laid behind them.

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