#i was trying to remember how the fuck you supposed to draw him

[cornmagnate]

Vitya

[puppppppppy]

i like him

[koko-loco-urlocalbbgirl]

Happy birthday to our favorite hacker!

"I think you liked strawberry roll cake, so I bought you some. Or was it strawberry shortcake? Anyway, hope you like it. Happy birthday Ren! :)"

Oh, Angel...

14DWY IS AN ADULT VN MINORS DNI. PUT YOUR AGE IN BIO OR YOU'LL BE BLOCKED

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[gfguren]

a little bit unwell at the thought of an inexperienced katsuki, a little bit older, and a lot a bit lost when you lean in for a kiss for the very first time. you with your cherry chapped lips and those hearts in your eyes, and he's so fucking scared that he's gonna fuck it up that he pushes you away with a hand at your chest and an absolutely mortified look in his eyes.

but you just laugh, in that way of yours that always puts him at ease; light and easy and comforting though he knows he doesn't deserve it. he should be the one comforting you—hell, you probably think he doesn't want you now—but he does, always has for as long as he can remember. and he figures he's supposed to tell you that—it's what he should do in a situation like this, his therapist would tell him—but the words catch in his chest, honesty in his throat like sticky caramel that he just can't seem to cough up.

"sorry," you speak first, and he wants to kick himself for it, "i should have asked."

he doesn't miss the way your feet shuffle, or the small quiver in your smile. you're trying to be considerate of his feelings as if he's not holding yours at arms length. his fingers curl against your collar, thumb brushes the top button of your blouse. there's a far-too-long moment where he just looks at you before he sighs with his entire chest.

"katsuki?" your voice is tentative, sweet. you look so pretty in the yellow porchlight, lovestruck eyes a little teary at the corners. he crumbles at the heart, coils around your finger like a garden snake.

"don't have ta," there's a tremor, a ravine that splits the deep valleys of his voice, "don't have t'ask f'r shit, just,—"

your head tilts, fingertips tracing the veins up his wrist until they can slip past his knuckles, "just?"

he puffs a breath of hot air, goes a little red in the face. "just fuckin'," his unfettered hand tugs impatiently at wily blonde strands. "—just kiss me, alright?"

he feels stupid, downright embarrassed, but you shine like sunlight at daybreak, smile brighter than every star above his head. "can i?"

"what did i just, mmph,"—

—sugar sweet, glossed lips in the flavor of maraschino cherry—you're kissing him, and he's stiff as a board, lost on what to do with himself—where to put his hands, how to kiss you back. "relax katsuki," your nose bumps his, voice lulling his worries to rest, "you're doing fine."

you've figured him out, fingered his exact insecurity and decided you don't mind it at all. typical, he thinks. his lips find yours if only so you don't catch the smile that he can't seem to help. you feel it though, even when his teeth knock clumsily against your own, both hands at your collar now, using it as leverage to draw you closer.

he's rosy at the cheeks, camellia pink up to his ears by the time he pulls away. "was that,"—wrong? bad? embarrassing? he groans, "nevermind."

your forehead rests against his own, gentle, careful palms moving to cradle his face like you've never treasured anything more. "it was good," of course it was, even if it wasn't. because it's katsuki, and you love him, you love him, you love him.

[demoniofleur10]

“Fuck, love,” Sanemi cursed, his voice husky as he slowly dragged his cock out before thrusting all the way back in, eliciting a trail of moans from the girl pressed against the counter. She was enveloped in the tight embrace of her husband, who towered over her smaller frame. His strong grip was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor, her knees weak and trembling like jelly.

“Sa-Sanemi! Y-you-your mis-mission!” she stuttered, her words breaking into gasps as Sanemi thrust once more, his cock rubbing against all the right places and hitting that sweet, gummy spot that had her seeing stars.

“I want to have all of you before I head out,” he grunted, his head tilting upwards as her walls clenched tightly around him. The way she took him in so perfectly made him want to pound into her, but he relished the novelty of this new position.

How did they end up like this?

Sanemi had been getting ready for his mission, donning his gear, when a soft humming reached his ears. Curious, he followed the sound to the kitchen and was greeted by an enchanting sight: his wife, lovingly preparing ohagis for him to take on his mission, humming a sweet, unfamiliar tune. She looked so pretty, so precious, and the domestic scene filled him with a warmth that quickly turned into something more primal.

He watched her for a moment, his eyes tracing the gentle sway of her hips and the delicate movements of her hands. Unbeknownst to him, his blood was rushing downward, pooling in his groin, and he felt himself growing hard. This was supposed to be an innocent moment, but his body had other plans.

Y/n didn’t notice Sanemi’s presence until she felt something hard pressing against her clothed ass, making her squeak in surprise. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and a soft gasp escaped her lips as she realized what it was.

Before she knew it, Sanemi had her pinned against the counter, her kimono bunched up around her waist. His hands were everywhere—on her hips, her waist, her breasts—keeping her anchored to him. Her own hands scrabbled at his muscular arms, seeking purchase as he moved inside her.

“Sanemi,” she whimpered, her voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. “You need to go…”

“Not yet,” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I need to feel you, to remember this when I’m out there. Let me take care of you first.”

Each thrust was deliberate, designed to elicit the most pleasure from her. Her body responded instinctively, arching back into him, her moans growing louder with each movement. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint smell of the ohagis she had been preparing.

Sanemi’s hands roamed over her body, caressing her skin, memorizing every curve and dip. His love for her was fierce, and he wanted to show her just how much she meant to him before he had to leave. He could feel her tightening around him, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.

“Sanemi, please…” she cried out, her voice trembling with the intensity of her impending climax.

Sanemi's hand cupped her jaw, gently tilting her head towards him before his lips crashed onto hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, drawing muffled moans from her as he deepened the kiss. The intensity of his thrusts increased, each one more powerful than the last. At this point, he was practically pounding into her, relentlessly hitting that perfect spot inside her over and over again.

Her fingers dug into his arms, trying to hold on as waves of pleasure coursed through her body. The kitchen echoed with the sounds of their lovemaking, a symphony of flesh meeting flesh, mingled moans, and ragged breaths. Her back was pressed against his muscular chest, her abdomen pinned against the counter. The discomfort only heightened her senses, making every touch and movement feel even more intense.

Sanemi's other hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer with each thrust, his need for her overwhelming. He could feel her tightening around him, her body responding to his with an urgency that matched his own. The friction, the heat, the closeness—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

His lips left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, sucking on the delicate skin there, leaving marks that would remind them both of this moment. Her moans turned into whimpers, her head falling back to give him more access as he continued his assault on her senses.

"Sanemi," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper amidst her moans, "I'm so close..."He growled against her neck, his breath hot and heavy. "I know, love. Let go for me. I want to feel you come around me.

"His words, coupled with the relentless pace of his thrusts, pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed, then shuddered violently as her orgasm ripped through her, her walls clenching around him tightly. She cried out his name, her voice breaking as she came undone.

Sanemi felt her release, the way her body milked him for everything he had. With a final, powerful thrust, he let himself go, spilling inside her with a guttural groan. His grip on her tightened as he rode out his own orgasm, the intensity of it leaving him breathless.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies trembling and hearts racing, the world around them fading away. Slowly, Sanemi pulled back, looking into her eyes with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness. He gently kissed her forehead, his hands still cradling her face.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I’ll always come back to you."

She nodded, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I love you too, Sanemi. Be safe."

[hairmetal666]

Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

[werecreature-addicted]

I remember some of your posts about a minotaur who lived with a peasant girl, can I ask for something about that? If it's not a bother of courseDue to the life that the minotaur has had, its instincts never appeared, that is, it never went through a stage of heat due to the stress and abuse to which it was subjected, but now everything is different, it is calmer, more relaxed, and it began to pay attention to a girl, specifically the girl she lives with, and apparently her instincts are beginning to appear, her body asks her to "mate" with her partner, although it is difficult to control herself, plus they are nothing yet and the girl does not know that minotaurs also go through a hot season, and it's not like she was going to ask him that, it would be very strange xd

(imagine that poor cock crying to enter the girl, but he must hide it, even if it is uncomfortable)

Sam master list for previous parts.

under the cut because this is long...for me at least.

Normally when it came to the physically demanding chores around the farm Sam liked to do the heavy lifting, literally. You were stronger than you looked but you still didn't have the monstrous strength that he did, and even besides that, he liked to spoil you. He'd never admit it out loud but he liked the way you sometimes watched him as he repaired the siding of a barn or hammered in a sense post. Something about the way your eyes followed him left a warm feeling in his belly. It's especially nice now that sometimes you kiss him after he's done a good job.

Now though, he just stands and stares as you work, nailing together bits of wood making your own saddle stand out of leftover bits of material. You looked so good, sweaty, and bent over your little bench. Is this how you felt when you watched him work? Sam doesn't even have the vocabulary to describe the strange heat that burns inside of him. He's supposed to be doing other work right now but he can't tear his eyes from you.

He wants to bend you over that saddle stand and- and what? He flinches back from the thought he didn't want to hurt you and he hates that his instincts are pushing him in that direction. But he wouldn't hurt you, his mind argues back. He wouldn't pin you down to hurt win a match or something. He'd be gentle. He'd pleasure you. Sam shudders. Where were these thoughts coming from?

His nostrils flare and even from across the barn, he can smell you and the salt of your sweat makes his cock throb. Sam sits down hard and pulls a nearby milk bucket over the large tent in his pants. He immediately feels stupid and tosses the pail aside, it did more to draw attention to his boner than hide it. He settles for just sitting awkwardly and hoping you don't notice.

How can Sam ever look you in the eye again after this? He supposes he shouldn't feel so guilty about being attracted to you but surely it's perverse to want you this badly when you're not even doing anything. At least if you were naked in bed trying to seduce him he'd have good reason to be this turned on. Sam shudders and replays the mental image of you, naked in bed, looking up at him trying to pull him towards you. Fuck he needed to get on top of you.

Just as that thought crossed his mind you bent over the waist-height wooden stand to grab something from your toolbox jutting your ass out in front of him. In a second Sam is on his feet, walking towards you before he can register what he's even doing, all he knows is that he needs you.

"oh, Sam-" you gasp, jumping a little when you turn to see him right behind you. For someone so big he moved silently. Sam takes a step forward and presses you back against the barn wall. "What's going on honey?" you ask trying to sound calm but you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous about his behavior. Sam had always been so cautious with you, overly gentle and paranoid that he might hurt you by accident. The Sam you knew would never pin you against a wall like this, it was nervewracking but also exciting.

"I uhm I just wanted to be close to you I guess," he mumbled, lowering his snout to your shoulder as if he was smelling you. Sam steps closer and you feel something brush against your thigh at first you think it's his leg but you look down and realize it's his barely restrained cock poking into your thigh.

"Do- are you uhm in heat Sam?" You ask and the monster on top of you freezes.

"do- do minotaurs go into heat?" he asks puzzled.

"I guess I don't know but most monsters do have you really never gone into heat before?" You ask then wince, it made sense that he wouldn't go into heat when he was under such harsh conditions his body wouldn't let him go into such a vulnerable state.

"No," he said, his hips grinding softly against your thigh he groans at the friction and you can't help but shudder too. You might not go into heat but you did want him just as much. "Will you help me?" he asked desperately.

"yes- yeah, I'll help you let me just-" As soon as he has your consent all other thoughts fly out of his head. He pushes his mouth to yours kissing you and effectively shutting you up. This wasn't like any of the other soft and innocent kisses you and Sam had shared in the past this was heated, and needy and caused a warm heat to bloom inside of you. This isn't a kiss for the sake of kissing, this is a kiss that promises much much more to come.

Even desperate like this, Sam still tries to be gentle as he strips your clothes and kneels down so he can hook your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, your back pressed to the wall of the barn he holds your weight easily.

"I'm going to get you nice and prepped for me, my cock is big and I need you to take every inch, okay?" he asks softly, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh as his thick fingers ghost over your cunt.

"Hold my horns while you rid my face," Sam instructs. You look down at his horns, one normal and the other broken and jagged. You hesitated, you knew how much that broken horn hurt him and you didn't want to grab it, but before you could put much more thought into it Sam pressed his mouth to your cunt, running his large soft tongue over your folds getting you wet enough to slot his big fingers inside of you. You yelp and settle for holding on to his good horn with one hand and tangling your fingers in his hair with the other.

Sam's cock ached. He needed to be buried inside of you, but he held himself back. He imagined the pained squeak you'd make if he tried to fuck you without any prep and that was almost enough to snap him out of his lusty haze. Almost.

You lose count of how many times you cum as he stretches you out and gets you ready for his dick, eventually though he decides that you're ready for him, or he just gets tired of waiting. Your legs tremble and for a second you worry you're not going to be able to stand on your own but you needn't worry, Sam had no intention of letting you stand. he readjusts his grip so that your legs are over his forearms and he pins you against the wall again his cock nudging your opening, slipping up your pussy as he tries unsuccessfully to push into you. His cock head bumps your clit and you feel a pulse of warm precum ooze out onto your hot skin making you shudder, your thighs tense in his arms, and Sam grunts, spreading your legs a little further as he grinds his cock over your cunt again.

You reach between your two bodies and grasp his cock. You curse silently to yourself feeling the weight and girth of it for the first time. You stroke him a few times before you guide his dick inside of you.

Sam had been so careful to be gentle with you this whole time, but now that he feels your tight heat gripping him in a way he's never felt before he no longer has the restraint. His brain shuts off and he feels more like a beast than he has in years. Sam slams his hips against yours burying his cock to the hilt in one swift motion. You cry out and dig your nails into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you with all the strength of a bull plowing a field. You're pretty sure you hear something crack and for a minute you aren't sure if it's you or the barn wall behind you that's breaking.

Sam groans loudly as he sinks his cock into you over and over again. His hips have a mind of their own as they steadily rock back and forth. He hates to admit it, but every time you cry out in pleasure or in pain it makes his cock throb. He would have thought the sound of you hurting-hurting because of him, would be enough to break his heart instead it makes him whimper and only fuels his desire to fuck you harder and fill you with his cum until you were swollen with it.

The mental image of you bloated with his seed proves to be too much for him and with one more deep stroke he cums deep inside of you, his legs shake with the relief of finally breeding you. He pulls you away from the wall and crashes backward into a hay bail laying down to catch his breath while keeping you impaled on his cock.

It feels right to have you on his chest and be surrounded by the earthy comforting smell of hay and dirt. You shift a little and his hands fly up to your hips pushing you back down.

"Stay... please," he almost begs softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam, I just want to get off your dick," you promise, trying to shift again. then he looks at you with the saddest most pleading look you've ever seen. his big brown cow eyes sparkling at you.

"Please don't, I want to be inside of you so you can feel me get hard again before I fuck you," he mumbles pleadingly. how could you say no to that face?

[tashid4]

Ghostface Sero

This one is really smutty so TW‼️‼️

October 31th. It was your last year at UA and everyone was reunited in the dorm. You all decided to organise an Halloween party. At first, it was supposed to be only your class, 20 people. But over the hours a lot of people decided to join. Now there was at least 50 people dancing in the common room.

You were dancing with your friends, having the time of your life. You were just happy to be with your girls, hyping each other and laughing. It was the middle of the night but you weren't tired at all, you could dance for 10 more hours. Adrenaline coursing through your veins.

At some point you went to grab another drink but after that you couldn't find your friends anymore. Alone in the middle of the crowd. The party was in full swing. You were in full panic. You didn't bring your phone, you had no way to get to them.

That is when you saw him, staring at you from afar. Ghostface. The mask. He was dressed in full black : black pants, black tank top, black shoes and of course the black mask. You felt like he was staring through your soul.

Your eyes locked on him. Getting closer to you. Pushing people around to get to you. Alone surrounded by strangers you felt vulnerable but it was exciting to find out who was hiding behind the mask. He managed to get to you, now that he was close you noticed how tall he really was, towering over you by several feet. Still looking at him, your heart start to pound out of your chest.

"So you got a boyfriend ?" he asked with a familiar voice. It was deep and smooth. Spicy and sweet. Sharp and sugary. You liked it. "Not at all" "Good"

You smiled widely as he grabbed your waist.

"Fuck don't stop" he's been pounding into you for so long now that you couldn't even tell if it was still dark outside or if the sun had risen. His hips rocking against yours. Slapping your skin so good. It was probably red now.

"You like it when I fuck you like this baby" you were a moaning mess, unable to form a correct sentence. Your only response was a loud moan and your pussy squeezing him more. "Such a slut, letting a stranger put his dick in you. Bet you've fantasized about this"

And you actually did. Having a complete stranger ruin you with a mask was at the top of your list. It was one of your darkest secret. The only person you told this was your best friend Sero. He's been your friend since you entered the school, always sticking together. He was the one getting you back on your feet after every single one of your breakups. Wipping away your tears.

Now here he was, secretlly making you cry with pleasure. He was tired of all these guys, breaking your heart, he could take such good care of you. He knew it. Why couldn't you know that too?

"You're so pretty like this" he pulled your hair, making you let out a scream of surprise. "That's it scream for me, let everyone know how good I'm fucking you right now"

He turned you over on the bed and placed your legs on his shoulder. His thumb was drawing circles on your clit. It was so much you couldn't handle it. You were seeing stars now, incoherent thoughts forming in your head. Your name ? Don't remember it. The only thing you could focus on was the delicious feeling of his dick inside of you. Your eyes couldn't stay open, the pleasure was hitting you so harshly. "I want you to fucking look at me." He was being so mean but you honestly found him even sexier like this. Being treated like a bitch was making you so wet.

"Look at me" You wanted to but it was too hard. You were overwhelmed by all the stimulation. Suddenly, he stopped all of his movements. He grabbed your hair and whispered in your ear. "You don't wanna look at me baby? I guess I'll have to teach you a good lesson."

He got dressed and left with your panties. Closing the door, leaving you alone and naked. You were still trying to process what just happened. Did he really left you here, on the verge of your orgasm ?

Part 2 ????

[tacticaldiary]

Reader joining 141 for a mission and Simon is not having it and is pissed at price for calling them and all of the other guys are confused about why ghost is so upset till they find out reader is his wife after the mission

Maybe reader got hurt and ghost goes off on price

The Price Of A Secret

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive-"

"This is different." He grits out.

"And why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the table. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

A/N: It's 2:45am and I have no energy to proofread caution advised-

Masterlist

The moment the picture of the intelligence officer joining them flashes on the screen, Ghost puts his foot down.

"She's not coming."

Everyone in the room pauses, Price staring at Ghost mid sentence. It's the usual 141, and then it's her. Sitting there with a mildly frustrated look, refusing to look at him because she should have known he'd try to pull some shit like this.

"Why not?" Price folds his arm, narrowing his eyes. "Is there an issue, Lieutenant?"

She was supposed to work from the inside, drawing out data and cracking through defences that they then passed on to people like the 141. An integral part of the process of running the whole task force, but not once was she involved in hands-on field work.

It's not that she's incompetent. No, not at all. Ghost would have his head bit off if he even remotely implied that because it simply isn't true. She got the top scores in almost every part of her training exercises, and yet she chose the intelligence part of the military to serve in. His wife was as competent as they got.

His wife.

"This is a covert operation, the fewer people the better." That's what he goes with. Not because his heart picks up at the thought of her being anywhere near what they deal with every day.

"I won't have the range I need to retrieve the data from their servers if I'm not close to them." She speaks up, and their eyes meet from across the room.

His determined, hers resolute.

Sometimes he really hated that she was so fucking stubborn. It had been the same stubbornness that cracked down the iron grip he'd had on the walls in his mind and around his heart, but if that stubbornness was what got her killed Simon would give up this joy in a heartbeat.

He'd do it for her if it meant she kept on living.

"This isn't up for discussion, Ghost." Price states, "She's part of this operation on my authority."

"Price-"

"End of discussion. You settle whatever you have going on outside this room." And fuck, he can't refute a direct order like that, can he?

Ghost sees her release a long exhale, and he knows he won't share such a relief until this damn operation was over and done with.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her body is so limp it scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

Ghost grips her so tight it's as if he himself is the only thing tethering her soul to her body, boots thumping hard against the muddy ground as they retreat back to their extraction point, data successfully retrieved.

Successfully, not smoothly.

The plan was simple. They'd flank the building while she camped out near the edge of the woods, retrieving the intel they needed. A couple of fuckers slipped out of the building and went straight for her.

Ghost's stomach turns when he remembers how he found the scene. She wasn't answering through her comms, but he knew he wasn't able to leave his position until the building was secure.

Waiting felt like an eternity, he could feel Soap send troubled glances in his direction at the way Ghost was unusually silent and more brutal than.

When the building was finally secure, they'd gone to reunite with her position and found three men dead, bloody seeping into the ground in a crimson mess. The last one standing hovered over her unconscious form, over his wife with a knife raised ready to slit her thought.

The only thought Ghost had as he ripped the man away with his hands was that he was going to take the one good thing in his life away, and he would not let that happen. Not her. Not like this.

"Bleeding wound to the head, unconscious but still breathing!" Gaz called out while Ghost shoved the man's own knife into his throat. Tossing the gurgling body aside like a ragdoll, he's immediately by her side, assessing before carefully lifting her up in his arms.

It's the most emotion Ghost has ever expressed in front of the others, but he couldn't give a fuck about the looks or the questions right now. Her heartbeat against him settled him the slightest bit with the reassurance that she was alive.

Angry does not begin to describe what itches under Ghost's skin as they scramble into their exfil airship.

"Medic!" He barks the second they lift off. Setting her down, he brushes the bloody strands of her hair away from her face.

Despite the urge to stay by her side, the medic gingerly requests for him to take a step back so he could work. Ghost obliges but his eyes never leave her face.

He's painfully aware of his wedding ring pressing against his chest, strung onto a chain long enough to be tucked under his uniform. A matching one to her own.

Nobody speaks.

Perhaps they recognise the anger washing off of Ghost in waves, because if they'd just bloody listened to him, she wouldn't be laying there with a head wound.

The atmosphere is heavy and sombre. Even Soap keeps his mouth shut, too confused by the outward, uncharacteristic way Ghost was acting to make fun of it.

It's only when the medic announces she's stable that the suffocating knot in Ghost's chest loosens. There's audible relief from everyone in the place.

"Bloody hell." Price breathes, and something in Ghost snaps.

"I told you to dismiss her from the op." He says coldly, turning to the man.

"We got what we needed, son." He sighs, deep and tired, and part of Ghost understands that this was their life. But he's too worked up to care.

"At a fucking cost."

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive, that's all that matters. Nothing permanent, yeah?" He glances at the medic, who confirms with a nod before slipping away.

"This is different." Ghost grits out.

"Why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the metallic walls. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

How long had it taken for Ghost-...no, for Simon to let someone crack open his defences until he was coaxed out and allowed himself to love again? Four years they've been married, and four years he's kept it a secret.

It's not that he doesn't trust his team. He trusts them with his life, would lay his own down for Johnny, Gaz, and Price any day.

But this? This was bigger than him, she was the most precious thing that had ever happened to him, and the safest way to preserve that was the keep it on a need-to-know basis.

She'd agreed with him, of course. In that soft, patient way she always has with him. She'd seen the paranoia in him, recognised that he needed this one thing for himself, and she'd been more than happy to oblige.

What was outside validation about her relationship worth when she got to crawl into his arms at the end of the day? Be granted the pleasure that comes with being loved by someone as protective, intelligent, and sharp as Simon Riley? She adores all of him, even the jagged pieces that cut into her from time to time, because he's always there to take care of her afterwards.

"She's my wife." He repeats quieter, sitting back down. Exhaustion lines the slope of his shoulder's dark circles well present under his mask.

"You're married." Soap is the first to speak, incredulously. "You? Ghost? You're married?" His eyes flicker down to Ghost's left hand, and then to Gaz and Price who look equally as surprised. "I mean, congratulations?" He trails off, knowing it's not really the situation to celebrate.

"Thanks." A tired, small voice has everyone's attention back onto the figure on the bed. Ghost is on his feet in moments, by her bedside. "It'll be five years in...what, a month?" She cracks an eye open, giving Simon a tired, smile.

"Two months." He corrects with a mutter, and Johnny looks like he might just collapse. "Sitrep?"

"We're not on the field anymore." She groans, pushing herself to sit up. Ghost's hands fly to her immediately, helping her sit up. At his blank, insistent stare, she relents with a deep sigh. "My head's killing me but other than that just a few scrapes and bruises." Her hand travels down to grab his at her shoulder, squeezing briefly.

"I'm alright." Her voice turns into something soft and reassuring, and it's only then that a quiet, shuddering breath comes out of Simon's lungs. "I think I'll sit to working from the inside though." She jokes weakly. "Leave the dirtier work to you brutes."

It lightens the mood as intended, eliciting a snort from Gaz. "Yes, ma'am."

He'd make sure she got checked out properly when they landed, but for now he takes his place sitting beside her. The others fall into a hushed conversation after a while, but he makes no move to join them.

A warm hand intertwines with his, hidden beneath the bulk of their combined gear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear.

Simon squeezes her hand in response. "Fucking hell, love." He breathes.

And it's enough to convey everything he's thinking. Humming, she tips her head against his shoulder and lets her eyes slip shut. The warmth of his body, even through the tang of copper is enough of a familiar comfort to drain the tension from her body.

She's fast asleep against his shoulder a minute later, and the devil himself couldn't make Simon move lest he wake her now.

He wasn't a publicly affectionate person by any means...but he trusted his team enough for this right now.

Letting his own head press against the metal wall behind them, his eyes shift to meet Price's. A softer, knowing look from the Captain is all he needs to hook his chin over her head and turn his attention outside the small window.

And if he counts her breathing while she sleeps for his own peace of mind? Well, that's no one's business but his.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(10/09/2023)

[thegnomelord]

Ok, so I loved your dragon reader/ dragon price fic. The detailed courting rituals got me thinking about how different members of TF 141 react to a s/o who has different courting rituals than them.

The one rolling around in my mind rn is Gaz (which I'm pretty sure is a harpy or bird hybrid of some kind) with a dragon reader.

So Gaz tries to court reader through a more fancy version of pebbling. But, instead of giving cool rocks and sticks, it's gemstones and weapons. Yknow, expensive/fancy things that Gaz thinks the reader might want to add to his hoard.

Btw do you have an anon list? If so, is 👑 anon available?

I don't have an anon list yet but you're welcome to be 👑anon!

It's cool to think how they'd try to court you. I hc that werewolves, and Johnny by extension, are really straightforward. Like sitting way too close, hands roaming over your body, trying to lick into your mouth and going "Hey wanna make more of us?"

Ghost, the poor thing, is completely fucked bc he was human before becoming a wraith, how the Hell is he supposed to know? Que him going through Wikipedia articles and watching documentaries of your species courting and mating (having to rub one out imaging you and him in that position ofc) and just stumbling through the whole courting thing.

CW:NSFW

But Gaz? Oooh Gaz—

Safe to say he's fallen ass over tits for you.

It's the way you take care of them, of him, of the monstrous strength used to defend them turning velvet soft when Gaz needs emotional support that has his harpy hindmind demanding to lock you down before a competitor snatches you away.

Only problem — you're not a harpy. And Gaz has no idea how courtship works, as when he asks Price about it (under the guise of just being curious) the old fart just gives him an amused look and tells him to figure it out.

Though harpies and dragons are two different species, he figures there must be some similarities, so he figures to listen to the old fairy tales about your kind and looks for the shiniest thing he can find, because Harpies court by giving gifts and dragons like to hoard and both of them like shiny stuff right?

You're confused like Hell when one day you wake up to find a silver ring with a shiny amethyst sitting on your windowsill. You know for a fact it's not yours as the instinct to catalogue every item in your hoard is as old as the draconic blood running through your veins and you'd remember if you had it.

When you make sure it's not stolen and no owner can be found, (because who'd wear that type of ring in a military base?) you decide to keep it, failing to notice how the way Gaz's pupils get bigger when you put the ring in your pocket.

It is a nice ring, the shine of the gemstone tickling your brain in a pleasant way. The military doesn't allow dragons to have large hoards, most of the items you've gathered over the decades and centuries safely hidden in vaults, but it feels good to have a small hoard in your den.

You expect this to be a one off event. But. No. Every few weeks you find a new thing on your windowsill, from gems to guns to additions to weapons you've expressed you'd like to get. Each new thing leaves you scratching your head, annoyance growing bit by bit as there's never enough scent on the items to track the culprit down and it's not like you can turn the base upside down looking for them (again).

You're unsure how to feel; it's obvious someone is trying to court you, but it definitely can't be Price because no dragon would go about it like this. But you have to admit it's nice to be desired, regardless how odd the method may be.

Then you notice how Gaz has started acting. . . different. He'll ruffle his feathers and flutter his wings more than usual when you two are alone, purposely stretch more often to make your eyes naturally draw to him, sticking to your side as he talks about everything and anything under the sun.

You're also not a fool. You can figure out it's a harpy's way of trying to show off, but without any open hostility you can only assume he's trying to court you. And you let him, you like his presence and the sound of his voice, the way he gives you a lopsided smile and the way his dark feathers shine like onyx gems when the light hits them juuust right and the way he flushes and stutters when your tail wraps around his leg.

Then one late evening when you're doing paperwork you catch sight of something behind your window in the corner of your eye. Like a flash you're opening the window, your clawed hand gripping Gaz's hand before he can scatter.

Gaz's wings spread out wide, a surprised squawk leaving him as he looks into your slitted eyes. "Uh-, I, eh- Hi?" He says, gulping, his newest gift, a very shiny ruby, held in his hand. But what draws your eye are his dark feathers.

You let out an amused snort, "Hello." You purr, leaning in so your faces are close, enjoying the way he flushes from the proximity. "So you're the little thief that's been visiting me."

Gaz's feather puff up to make his silhouette twice as big, his eyes narrowing, a hurt and angry look spreading across his features. "I'm no thief!" He says, insulted that you'd suggest he can't get you gifts on his own. "I-"

"You are," You hum, reaching out your other hand to hold his jaw, and even with his anger he feels his mind croon at how softly you touch him. "You're in the process of stealing my heart."

"Oh." Is the most intelligent thing he can come up with, his pupils blowing wide like he'd just seen the shiniest thing in his life. "Oh."

"Yes," You shrug and pull your hand back to yank one of your scales out of your shoulder, giving it to him as you take the ruby. "Keep this safe for me, yeah?" You hum and then you let him go, going back to your work while he's left dumbstruck, clutching the scale close to his chest.

When it finally settles in his head that you'd just given him a gift, that you'd reciprocated, and given him a shiny gift, oh he's treating that scale like it's the most precious thing in his world. He keeps it close to him, cooing to it in the privacy of his room, keeping it on his pillow so he can fall asleep with your scent in his nose.

He also doubles down on the gifts, but now he's very open about it, to the point you'll have him randomly come into your office to give you something shiny or another weapon, preening so prettily when you praise the thing he's brought back, nuzzling into your neck and fluffing up his feathers. His heart swoons when you show him the small hoard you've made with all the things he's brought you, and you end up spending the entire evening with him cuddled up to you, chirping happily.

"Hey, can I see that scale I gave you?" You ask after a couple of weeks, curious to see how he's treated it.

"Uh, sure." Gaz can swear his heart's beating like a war drum as he watches you inspect your scale, checking for scratches or cracks.

But you find none, it's still as shiny as the day you'd given it to him. Maybe even shinier.

You smile and before he can do anything you pull him close to you by a hand on his hip. "Very well done, little thief." You hum, kissing him. Gaz melts against you, not even your lips able to muffle the happy chirps and croons that escape his chest.

You spend the next few months getting familiar with each other's bodies, lazy evenings spent with your clawed hands preening his wings, Gaz steadily melting into the bed with every brush of your fingers. Kyle taking a few extra minutes in the morning to rub his face between your wing, chirping and crooning.

Harpy mating season comes around and you're caught off guard when you come to your room to find your covers and pillows and entire wardrobe on the ground, turned into a makeshift nest with a very naked, and very horny, Gaz sitting in the middle of it.

His eyes are hazy but he knows you're there the second your scent hits his nose, the most desperate sound you've ever heard leaving his lips, bruised from how hard he'd been biting them to reign his noises in, to keep them only for you.

"Mate-" Kyle whines, shuffles in the nest that has the pretty gems he'd gifted you strewn amongst the fabric, "-need you, please- I-"

One more needy sound is all it takes to have you tumbling naked into the nest in record time, deep guttural purrs answering his pleased coos. He presses flush against you, seeking out your mouth, whole body burning up and his thighs shaking, his cock rock hard.

"I got you, pretty thief." You rumble, pulling him into your lap, his wings spreading out and feathers puffing up, as if he needs to make himself look even more desirable. "What do you need Kyle?"

"Need you," Kyle whines, pawing at your own erection, desperate fingers shaking as he strokes you, "Please- hurts, I need- mate."

You shush him with sweet kisses, your hand sliding down to very carefully stretch him open while avoiding injuring him with your claws, your mind purring at how willingly he opens up for you, wings and limbs shaking as he whimpers against your lips, his mind steadily leaking from his cock.

"You're alright," You calm him when you pull your fingers out, positioning him so your cock head rests against his entrance, not missing how Kyle preens at your strength. "Going to breed you right, gonna take care of you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Kyle moans are loud as you steadily push your cock into him, his walls clamping down on every inch of your length. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank- mate." His claws dig into your shoulders, clutching you tight as you bottom out in him, his hole clenching you in sync with his ragged breathing.

"I'm here," You hum, barely able to think, "Just relax, let me take care of you." You say, feeling him relax into you, and with deep purrs and lots of praise you begin to fuck him, moving him like a fleshlight on your cock, letting him moan and groan and scream his heart out uncaring who hears it, your ancient blood singing at the thought of his noises being a testament to your abilities as a mate.

Then the tight heat and the scent and just Kyle has your mind forgetting how to think, your body moving on it's own to show Kyle he'd picked a good mate.

[another-lost-mc]

When They Say "F*ck Lucifer" (& Think MC Takes It Literally) Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.6k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Crack Treated Seriously Content warnings: Cursing, implied relationships, pet names, jealous/possessive behaviour, misunderstandings and poor communication, demon form mentioned (Satan), suggestive content.

BELPHEGOR

"Belphie, it's time for dinner!" Lucifer sent you to find him, and when he wasn't napping in your bed, you knew where to check next.

He mumbles something into his pillow and you can't make out the words, but you know he's listening. "It's the third night this week you've skipped eating dinner with the family. Come on, you know how Lucifer is."

Belphie turns his head towards you enough so that you can hear him more clearly. "Oh, fuck Lucifer." He rolls over and starts snoring again, and you stomp back down the attic stairs in frustration.

When you join the others for dinner, you jab your fork into your food with more force than necessary. You're halfway done your meal when Belphie suddenly plops down into the empty chair beside yours. He reaches for your free hand and leans against your shoulder.

"Belphie?" you ask him curiously, but he says nothing. He doesn't eat anything either. He tries to cuddle even closer to you instead, and he shoots glares at his older brother sitting at the head of the table.

It takes you longer to eat than normal with one of your hands firmly tucked in Belphie's grip. As soon as you finish your dinner, he pulls you away from the table and back up to the attic. He curls around you for the rest of the night like he's afraid you might disappear if he doesn't.

He doesn't skip any more meals for the rest of the week.

BEELZEBUB

You have one hand stretched out in front of you, pressed firmly against Beel's chest. The other is holding a container of sweets behind your back.

"No, you can't have these," you remind Beel for the hundredth time. "They're for tomorrow, remember?"

But Beel's only half-paying attention to you. His focus is latched onto the container in your hand, and if he wasn't worried about hurting you by accident, he'd simply take it from you.

"It's not fair," his low voice rumbles thickly, and there's drool leaking from the corner of his mouth now. "I'm starving!"

You shake your head and look around for something else to tempt Beel with instead. "Lucifer bought these for Diavolo, and we're taking them to the tea party tomorrow."

"Fuck Lucifer," Beel growls, and it's the loudest and angriest he's sounded yet. You both look startled by the outburst; your hand slips away from holding him back, and his jaw drops open when he realizes what he said to you.

You hold the container tightly against your chest. He could easily take it from you now, but he surprises you when he doesn't. His eyes are fixed solely on your face, as if the thing he wanted moments ago is completely irrelevant. He holds his arms out like he's trying to block you from leaving the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'll look for something else to eat, but please, don't go."

ASMODEUS

"Are you sure you should post that?" you ask, glancing over Asmo's shoulder as he types another inflammatory reply on Devilgram.

"Of course!" he exclaims. "You read their comment. ‘Pretentious and gaudy?’ MY clothing line?! No, I won’t stand for it.”

He’s typing quickly and you’re not exactly sure what his Devildom insult is supposed to mean, but you imagine it’s not very nice by the way Asmo cackles when he hits Send.

“I don’t want to be that person,” you start nervously while Asmo scrolls through the other comments on his post, “but maybe you should ignore them? All this back and forth is drawing a lot of negative attention to your Devilgram feed.”

Asmo pauses what he's doing and looks at you suspiciously. “Who told you that?”

You bite your lip and look away. “Lucifer asked me to talk to you about it.” When Asmo rolls his eyes, you throw your hands up. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Aren’t you worried this little spat might impact your new launch?”

Asmo jabs his D.D.D. in your direction. “He’s only worried about drama if it involves someone close to Diavolo.” He runs his hand through his hair and looks down at his phone screen again. “Fuck him. If Lucifer cares that much, he can come talk to me himself.”

“Ugh!” You stand up with a huff and head towards the door. You tried to talk to him and it’s obvious he’s not going to listen. You hope Lucifer believes you later when you tell him you tried to get Asmo to see reason.

When you reach for the door handle, you’re surprised when Asmo suddenly blocks your way. Sometimes you forget how fast demons can move.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says seriously. His housecoat falls open slightly when he leans towards you, and his expression isn't angry but dead-serious.

“Didn’t mean what?” you ask confusedly.

“Fucking my brother. Don’t do it.” His hands grasp your shoulders and you can’t help but laugh.

“I wasn’t going to? I was going to go back to my room while you carry on with your…” you trail off, gesturing to his abandoned D.D.D. on the bed, “…little feud.”

He steers you back towards his bed. “If you want to relax, then I insist you stay here instead. My room is much more comfortable than yours. Besides, I just thought of something you can help me with.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and smile up at him. “Like apologizing to that poor demon lord you keep picking fights with?”

Asmo winks at you with a hint of a smirk, and he tugs at the belt holding his housecoat closed. “Maybe we can do that after.”

SATAN

Satan walks around the narrow pathways in his room, avoiding the fragile stacks of books that litter his floor. You sit on his bed and watch him anxiously, giving him the patience and time he needs to tell you what's bothering him. You're careful to give him space when he's in one of these moods; it was one of the stipulations you agreed to before he let you inside earlier.

"So, you were in the garden earlier with some of the stray cats, and Lucifer did...what, exactly?" You've been trying to piece together what happened between Satan and his brother earlier, but it's hard to make sense of his grumbled and disjointed complaints.

"He scared them away," Satan bites out angrily. "I wasn't even feeding them treats. I sprinkled some catnip for them. What's the problem with that?"

You know Lucifer complains about the stray cats that flock to the House of Lamentation if Satan feeds them when he's not supposed to. You know that Lucifer isn't a fan of cats in general. But, you also know that Lucifer wouldn't purposefully hurt any of the cats that make their way into the garden, and he's not usually this petty.

"Is it possible he thought you were feeding them? I don't think he would make such a big fuss if he knew you were only giving them catnip." Satan glances at you and you can tell he's not convinced by your explanation. "What if I go with you to talk to him?"

"Fuck him," Satan snarls as he keeps pacing in front of you, fists clenching open and closed at his sides.

Sigh. Maybe you can talk to Lucifer on your own. Things have been peaceful between them lately, and this is such a silly thing for them to be at odds over.

Satan watches you stand up from his bed with a defeated sigh. When you try to shuffle past him, he wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you against his chest. There's a wave of warm energy around you, and you feel the familiar feathers of his true form against your back.

"You're not going to leave me to see him, are you?" his rough voice grates against your neck. "You should stay here."

"Tomorrow we're going to sort this out together," you tell him when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

His hands on your hips tighten. "Fine. But tonight, you're mine."

LEVIATHAN

"I think there's something wrong with your Akuzon account."

Levi asked you to pre-order the Dogi Maji anniversary bundle on his tablet, but the Submit Order button is greyed out every time you try to purchase it for him.

"Huh?" Levi spins around at his desk. He was doing some dungeons with his guild and you've been waiting for him to finish so you could watch anime together.

You tap the screen a few more times and shrug. "I don't know, it won't let me order anything."

Levi opens the Akuzon site on his second monitor and he sputters when he realizes what the problem is. "Lucifer put parental controls on the account again! Why would he do that?"

Of course. You knew Lucifer was upset at Levi for what happened earlier this week, and somehow his threat of punishment completely slipped your mind. "Well, you did summon Lotan on the RAD campus again..." you offer hesitantly.

"That wasn't my fault!" Levi argues loudly. He wilts a bit under your skeptical stare. "Okay, it wasn't completely my fault. Mammon took my rare Ruri-chan capsule figurine and wouldn't give it back."

You rub the back of your neck. You want to be sympathetic, you really do, but you can't necessarily blame Lucifer for his reaction either - an entire floor of the building was unusable due to the flooding.

"You know how Lucifer is, he'll change it back in a few days and we can order the game then."

"But what if it sells out before then?!" he shouts in frustration. "Fuck Lucifer!"

Levi rarely raises his voice like this to you, and he deflates immediately after his little outburst. "Wait–wait–wait!" he stammers quickly, launching himself out of his computer chair and into the empty seat beside you on the sofa. He holds your hands in his and squeezes so tightly that you wince. "I didn't mean that," he says imploringly, and his eyes dart around your face like he's nervous you don't believe him.

You mistakenly assume he's trying to apologize for getting so angry, and you pull him into a hug. "I know," and he nods against your shoulder. "What if I go to Purgatory Hall and order the game using Solomon's account instead?"

Levi sniffles and practically drags you into his lap. "Maybe later," he mumbles against your chest, the game temporarily shoved aside so he can keep you to himself instead. "What do you want to watch first?"

MAMMON

You flick on the light switch in Mammon's room and glare at him in annoyance. You warned him last night not to stay too late at the casino, and here he is, sleeping well past his alarm. At some point he chucked his D.D.D. across the room and promptly went back to sleep.

Great, now you're both going to be late, but for some reason, Lucifer seems to think herding Mammon to class is your responsibility. Lover's perks, you guess sarcastically as you stomp over to where the Avatar of Greed is snoring under a pile of blankets. One of his feet is dangling over the edge of the bed, and if you had more time, maybe slow, torturous tickles would teach him a lesson. For now, you grab the edge of his blankets and rip them off him in one smooth motion.

His eyes are still closed while his hands search blindly for the blankets that are on the floor by your feet. He's only in his boxers so the sudden gust of cool air against his skin makes him shudder. You feel a bit of petty satisfaction as you kick the blankets away for good measure.

"'m tired, goin' back to sleep, babe," he mumbles sleepily.

Well, at least he knows it's you, even if he is half-asleep.

"We're going to be so late for class, and Lucifer's going to kill me. Or you. Or both of us!" You wonder why Lucifer would send you to wake up Mammon, when his own threats of dangling him from the ceiling would probably be more effective. You guess waking Mammon up is meant to be your punishment for choosing to be with him of all demons in the first place.

Mammon groans and rolls over so you can't see him, but you can tell he's half-buried in his pillow when he grumbles, "Fuck 'em."

You throw up your hands and spin on your heel. "Fine, be that way," you snap. Your mood's already sour, and Lucifer's pestering and Mammon being himself isn't helping.

You should have enough time to grab something to eat and make it to class on time if you leave now. What you don't expect is for Mammon to not only get out of bed, but to somehow make it to the doorway before you do.

Damn, he's fast.

He's panting heavily and his eyes are clear now, his razor-sharp focus trained on you. You bump into his bare chest because you don't expect him to block your path. You open your mouth to ask what he's doing, but he leans forward and gives you a sloppy kiss instead. There's something almost desperate in the way his hands cradle your jaw and he drags his lips away from your mouth and dusts your cheeks and brow with feathery-soft kisses too.

"'m sorry," he mumbles, pulling you against him in a tight hug, "Wait for me while I get ready, yeah? Just, don’t–don’t leave. I’ll make it up to ya later, promise.”

LUCIFER

Lucifer pauses outside your bedroom door when he realizes you're speaking to someone on the phone. His brothers are all studying in their rooms - or they should be, same as you. He wonders who could possibly be so interesting that you're ignoring your studies to talk to them instead.

He assumes it's Solomon or Simeon, and he can't decide which of those two options is worse. Not that he cares, of course.

Even through the door, he can hear you clearly. He feels the slightest sense of guilt when he recognizes the tired, sad tone in your voice. Some of his brothers failed the last set of exams, and perhaps he was too strict with you considering your own scores were satisfactory - excellent even, in some classes. He knows that you've been ignoring your extracurriculars and hobbies to focus on studying so you don't disappoint him like his siblings do.

He catches the tail-end of your conversation and decides it's definitely Solomon on the other line if you're being invited to human world outings.

"...yeah, I heard that movie is in theatres now too. I think it looks good, but I'm too busy with–look, maybe once exams are over we can go see it, okay? I think Satan might like to see it too...uh huh...alright, you too. G'night."

Silence follows, and before Lucifer can knock on your door, he hears you sigh and mutter quietly, "Ugh, these stupid exams. Fuck Lucifer."

Well, there's a thought, isn't it? He was going to offer to take you to Madam Scream's to pick up some of those cupcakes you like. He considers it for only a split second and decides he likes your idea even more. His lips curl into a feral smirk, and he knocks once before letting himself inside.

"Huh? Oh, hi, Lucifer. I'm just going to..." but your voice tapers off. Whatever you were going to say dies in your throat when he leans against your door and slides the lock into place.

"I missed you," he murmurs, a surprisingly honest (and to you, completely random) confession that causes your cheeks to darken slightly. You swallow thickly and stare when he brings his hand to his mouth and pulls his glove off with his fucking teeth. "I think you deserve a little reward for all your hard work, hm?"

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 8: Sex Toys

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Sex Toys (✨)

Summary: Matt wants to use one of your sex toys on you for the first time, but things don't quite go as planned.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), use of a vibrator, use of "good girl", slight degradation, slight Dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, breeding kink

Word Count: 2k

A/n: Jesus, this was supposed to be a Drabble. Matt took over toward the end though and added another thousand words, so now you get to have this filthy little (big) piece.

Read Me On AO3!

He’s towering over you. The billboard's lights paint a blue and purple mosaic on his bare skin. His eyes are closed as he listens to your every breath, and every beating of your heart. But there’s something else in the air tonight.

The steady buzzing of your vibrator glides up, up, up your thigh. You can’t remember when you’ve last been this on edge, this close to falling off the carousel without ever being pushed. 

Matt is calm—too calm. He’s taking his time pressing the current into your skin, soaking your little impatient noises up like a sponge. You’re so wet already, naked and spread out for him as his cock rests achingly hard against his stomach, but he’s nowhere near done with you. And he won’t let you touch him. You’ve tried; you’ve tried to reach out for him, but he slapped your hand away. 

“Not yet,” he’d said to you. “I want to try something first.”

When he pulled out the box with all your toys that you keep around for when you feel needy and alone without him, you knew that his hands wouldn’t be the only thing touching you tonight. It’s exciting, to try things you have never tried before. At first, you were scared to tell him about your occasional habit of pleasuring yourself when time won’t allow him to do it, but he was never opposed to it. Not that he has any right to be, anyway. 

You never expected this to happen though. 

You never expected Matt to pull out your bright pink vibrator and tell you how badly he wants to fuck you with it until you can’t help but scream his name.

Your skin tingles at the low temperature of the toy. You would ask him to warm it up for you, but you doubt you could get a word out even if you tried. You’re hot to your very core, but with the vibrator gradually sliding up to travel the valley between your breasts, you find yourself suddenly freezing. 

Matt must be able to tell. Goosebumps erupt on your skin everywhere he touches you without touching you. He reaches out to brush the tip of his calloused thumb over it, collecting the sweat that has started to pour from your pores and rubbing it in. You’re not cold, the action is supposed to say. And he’s right, you’re not cold, it just feels like you are. Every nerve in your body is on fire. It almost hurts how badly you want him to do something, anything. You need to come. You need to feel the vibrator against your cunt, or your clit, or perhaps both. You want him to kiss you and hold you as he thrusts the stupid toy into you, always angled toward that spot. Higher and higher and higher until finally, you come. 

Matt presses the tip against your nipple, and you cry out. You couldn’t focus, so he made you focus. White hot pleasure courses through your veins, infecting you like some kind of disease, but you wouldn’t mind if it killed you. So many different temperatures, so many different sensations. Now you know what it must feel like for him, at least a little bit. It’s so incredibly intense you forget how to breathe.

“Look at me,” he says.

Somehow, he always knows when you don’t. 

You open your eyes, your vision blurry as you take on the vision that is him. You could cry just from how beautiful he is.

“Good girl.” He draws a circle around your nipple then. “Just feel.”

You try to shut your legs for some kind of friction, but he pushes them apart again. Matt clicks his tongue. “I take it back.” Gently, he smacks the vibrator against your breast, but it’s enough to make you jolt. “Bad girl,” he says. 

Asshole.

“Language.”

Did you say that out loud? Fuck.

“Please,” you beg. “I’m sorry, Matty. Please, just…”

“What?” He circles the other breast, turning the toy up a notch. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Touch me,” your voice is barely above a pathetic whisper.

He shakes his head. “You can do better than that.”

You abandon the thought of cursing him out again. You want to be his good girl, you do. 

“Touch me,” you repeat. 

His hand comes to rest on your stomach, just below your heart. “Like this?”

You suck in a sharp breath. 

“Or like this?” He leans forward, pressing his lips against your skin, featherlight. You barely feel it. 

A whine slips past your lips. 

Matt slides the vibrator back down your body. You don’t notice; you’re too focused on the way his lips are moving along your sensitive abdomen, getting bolder with each inch he covers. His hand traces every crevice and every scar he can find. He knows you inside and out, yet he touches you as though it is the very first time. The very first night you got together. Like he can’t believe you’re his, and he needs to take his time worshiping—no, memorizing you. In case you slip through his fingers after this, and all he will have left is your memory.

You would never do that to him, but you know just how scared he gets. He needs to do this. He needs to feel you. And you are more than willing to give your body, mind, and soul to him. If you could, you would serve it on a silver platter, for you know that you are safest with him.

He hums at the hitch of your breath, the slight uptick in your heartbeat. His fingers splay over the left side of your chest. You’re alive. Your heart is beating for him, and that’s all that matters. 

“Or maybe like this?” he says, and the moan you let out borders on a scream when he pushes the vibrator directly against your pussy. 

The wave building within you is already tall enough to level a small town. 

Matt glides the tip over your swollen clit. “You’re so wet. Fuck. I barely touched you.”

You are grasping at the sheets, at the pillows, but the silk slips through your fingers. “Matt,” you choke out. 

“I know.” He presses a kiss to your sternum. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

The wave threatens to crash into you. It shouldn’t be possible, and yet, it is. He’s made it possible. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands as he pushes the vibrator against your entrance. At the setting it is now, you can feel the electricity in your every bone. He pushes it in until you’re full of the silicone.

You’re moaning, thrashing, and clawing at him for something to hold onto. You are so close—so, so close. You don’t understand what’s happening to you.

His hand comes to cup your breast again. “Look at you,” he murmurs, raspy against your skin. His kisses have no aim, simply caressing your skin as he would worship at the shrine of the ever-loving Catholic God he believes in. Right now though, you are his God, and he would lay his life down for you. He would sacrifice his life just to listen to you fall apart, just to make sure you’re okay and he has done everything to give you what you need.

Because neither heaven nor hell would mean anything without you.

Your hips buck into the vibrations, into his touch, and you can feel your control fading. The wave is close enough for you to touch. Every crevice in your body wants to burst, every muscle straining to hold on, to hold you on the edge just a little longer, but it’s hard—so hard. 

Matt grunts, teeth digging into your flesh. His cock jumps at the sounds you’re making, the way you’re clenching around the toy and your scent so fucking thick in the air he will probably smell you for weeks to come. Pre-cum has long started leaking from his tip.

He thought this was a good idea, getting to explore you in an entirely new way, but Good Lord, he can’t stand the thought of a toy giving you this much pleasure when he is right there to fill you to the brim. 

He stops below your ear, only to whisper, “Safe word?”

Your eyes roll back into your head. “R-red,” you stammer. 

“Good girl. Remember that.”

But why ask?

Your question answers itself when he suddenly pulls the vibrator out of you, leaving you painfully empty and wet. You cry out again, though this time out of pure disdain. You were so close.

He ruined it.

He fucking ruined it. 

“No,” you whine. “Please…”

He shushes you with his lips, and then his cock thrusts into you. You don’t have time to process before he bottoms out. The stretch is familiar yet new, reigniting the fires he blew out mere seconds ago. He’s thick, bigger than average, and he fills you up so good. Your lips part, but nothing wants to come out. You can’t moan. You can’t scream. He’s inside of you, and all you can think is, ‘Fucking finally!’ 

Matt slides his tongue into your mouth to silence himself. You’re warm and tight, and if he weren’t so determined to make you come all over his cock before he gets to see the pearly gates, he would have already burst. 

Though neither of you is going to last very long.

Your legs wrap around his waist. That’s why he asked. He holds onto your thigh as you cling to him, nails running down his back until he’s red all over until he’s marked by you. 

Once he’s got his bearings, he’s not holding back. The pace he sets is brutal. He thrusts into you with abandon, angling your leg to get as deep as he possibly can, and he fucks you into the mattress like a man starved. It’s that way, too, that he kisses you.

The bed creaks with every snap of his hips against yours. You swear you can feel him in your stomach, the way he’s taking you apart with only his cock. You’re falling with nowhere to land, but he’s falling with you. Hard, and fast.

Matt bites your lip, tugging it back before crashing his mouth into yours again. You’re sure one of you must be bleeding. 

“I need you to come,” he pants, teeth dragging along your jaw. “Need you to…” He grunts.

The orgasm continues to build as the wave gains momentum.

“Come for me.” 

You cry out his name when you do, the wave crashing in and drowning you all at once. Your heart beats out of your chest and into his. One more thrust. Two. Even a third one, and then, he spills into you. 

For a short while, the world stops turning. You’re floating in a void detached from space and time. All that fills the room now is the sound of your labored breathing.

Minutes pass by. The lights of the Billboard continue to flicker, throwing a blanket of color over you. 

Matt is the first to break the silence. “Was that…” he trails off.

Your chest rumbles with a soft chuckle, holding his fragile body a little tighter to yours. “Oh yeah,” you say. “It was.”

He nuzzles his nose further into your chest. “Good. That’s… good.”

What he doesn’t tell you, at least not yet: there are a lot more toys in that little box of yours that he is eager to try out, and he will make sure to come inside you with every last one of them. To fill you up. To breed you so he can taste himself inside your pussy when he eats you out at the end of this—as he always does. 

He’s going to make you come so many times, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You won’t even be able to remember your own damn name. Only his. And it will only be his cock that will make you do so. As fun as toys are, there are some things he would rather do himself when he can. 

You don’t quite know it yet, but tonight is going to be a very long night for you. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[chrissturnsfav]

fuckgirl!reader flirting with loser!matt, but she’s drunk so he’s just acting all nonchalant abt it

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 loser!matt babysits drunk fuckgirl!reader

the bass thumps in your chest, the music a relentless pulse that matches the dizzying swirl of the room. everything’s fuzzy—lights blurring into streaks, voices overlapping into a symphony of noise. you don’t remember how many drinks you’ve had, but it’s definitely more than you should’ve.

and then there’s matt. sweet, awkward matt.

"matt," you whine over the music that echoes in your ears, drawing out his name, your hand reaching for his sleeve. your fingers barely graze the fabric before you lose balance, tumbling halfway into his lap.

he catches you, because of course he does, his reflexes sharper than you’d expect. "careful," he says, voice dry but not unkind.

"i am careful," you insist, dragging yourself up and planting one hand on his chest for stability. it’s a nice chest—solid under your palm. "you’re just in my way."

"can we go upstairs?" you say feigning sweetness with a crooked smirk, your breath warm against his neck.

"nah." he leans back and manspreads on the couch, cool as ever, like he’s immune to your charms. it’s sickening.

"why not?" you pout, tugging at his arm. your dress rides up as you move, not that you care—matt’s the only one looking, and isn’t that the point?

"because you’re drunk kid," he says simply, tilting his head like he’s assessing whether you’re about to topple over again.

"so?" you challenge, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "you’re supposed to take care of me, aren’t you? that’s what guys do at parties, right? fuck pretty girls?"

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go when you wrap your arms around his neck. "m'not fucking you kid," he snickers.

you groan, a little too loud, and press your forehead against his. "you’re no fun, matt. chris would fuck me. he would probably die for the chance."

"yeah, but i’m not chris," he says, gently disentangling your arms from his neck.

"clearly," you mutter, falling back onto the couch in a dramatic heap. you look up at him, your eyes hooded and pleading. "don’t you think i’m pretty, though?"

he snorts, shaking his head. "nice try."

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you demand, half-offended, half-sickened by how unaffected he is.

"it means you’re wasted, and you’re not gonna trick me into saying something stupid," he says, leaning down to pull a blanket off the back of the couch. he drapes it over your legs, ignoring your protests.

"you’re boring," you declare, crossing your arms with a drunken frown.

"and you’re a fucking mess," he counters, his smirk softening into something almost fond. "but don’t worry. i’ve got you."

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect—soft and steady, but somehow leaving a mark. it makes your chest tighten, your thighs hot, and your stomach flip.

you know he’s just being responsible matt, always the boring one, always the one making sure things don’t spiral out of control. but the way his eyes linger on yours, the hint of warmth behind the teasing, makes you need him even more.

you grab his hand, holding onto it like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. "matt," you say again, but this time it’s quieter, your voice dipping into something softer, almost vulnerable.

"what now?" he asks, half-laughing, though his hand doesn’t pull away.

"just one little kiss, at least. please?" you say, your voice dropping into something softer, more pleading.

he laughs, shaking his head like you’re ridiculous. "not happening."

"you're the fucking worst," you whine, ripping your hand from his and sinking into the couch again.

"sleep it off kid," he says, his voice softer now. "you’ll thank me later."

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: the way i literally was writing this without even seeing this anon! i was abt to publish it and then checked my inbox and i was like :o that's perfect. so i copy and pasted the draft here.

thank you for reading! <3

tags: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @swagalicious260 , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott

@chrissturnsfav ™

[pipwasreal]

Day 16: knives + mind control

Characters: Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne

Content warnings: betrayal (sort of), mind control, mental confusion, knife violence, injury, iron burns

Now with a comic by technically-human!

"Charles look ou-" Edwin yells.

But it's too late, the unfamiliar spell hits him right in the face and ripples through him, locking each limb rigid, then releasing them one by one. Charles sways and shivers, then drops back into his ready stance. He draws his iron knife, then turns to Edwin.

"Are you alright?" Edwin asks quickly, glancing between Charles and the fairy. She's keeping her distance, but grimacing in concentration, her gaze locked on Charles.

Charles doesn't answer, but starts moving slowly toward Edwin. His expression is... strange. Not at all how he normally looks. Edwin frowns in confusion.

"Charles, what are you..." he begins, then trails off.

It occurs to him that perhaps the reason he has never seen this look of grim determination before is because whenever they are in danger Edwin freezes, and Charles plants himself squarely between Edwin and whatever means them harm. He faces it down, he does whatever is necessary to keep them safe.

It's... disconcerting, being on the receiving end of that expression, that wary advance. He ought to run, he supposes, but it's Charles. He does not know how to be afraid of Charles.

"What have you done to him?" He asks the fairy.

She glances at Edwin, fear and anger warring in her wide grey eyes, then whistles a rapid five-note trill.

"Oi!" Charles says, drawing Edwin's attention back. "She hasn't done anything to me. She's my best mate and I won't let you drag her back to Hell."

Ah.

Charles lunges at Edwin, slashing out at chest height with the iron knife. Edwin stumbles backward just in time, but the tip still catches his lapel, leaving a long scorchmark across it. It smarts, of course, but he has more pressing concerns.

His mind races, trying to remember how to draw someone out of magical confusion... and also trying to remember anything Charles had shown him over the years, about blocks and binds and generally avoiding being stabbed.

"Listen to me," he says, circling away from Charles while keeping the fairy in his line of sight. "You are under an enchantment. I do not mean you any harm. Please put the knife away."

Charles laughs, and it's an ugly, bitter thing.

"Nice try. Don't lie to me. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't leave us alone."

He slashes as Edwin again, but this time Edwin puts out a hand and catches the blade through his palm. It blackens and smokes something awful, but at least he can wrench the knife out of Charles' grip.

"Right. That is quite enough of that," he says, turning to the fairy. "Kindly release my friend, and we shall leave you in peace."

"What the fuck are you?" She breathes.

Edwin sighs. "Not a threat to you. We apologise for trespassing."

She nods warily. With a whirl of her grey cloak, she disappears.

Charles shivers again. Then he sees his knife in Edwin's hand and loses his mind.

[iliketangerines]

a lesson in shrubbery

a/n: i'm a little late...just give me a second to catch up

pairing: tsu'tey x afab!na'vi!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), rough sex, orgasm control, teasing, public sex (you're in the forest), doggystyle

perhaps you had pushed him a bit too far this time, vying for Tsu’tey’s attention whenever he was trying to teach his trainees and also deal with the outsider at the same time

it’s just that he had been so distant lately, spending more time complaining and muttering underneath his breath about Tsyeyk Suli rather than paying attention to you

you knew that it was the stress of becoming future olo’eyktan and the increasing encroachment of the sky people on eywa’eveng

and you really should’ve just let things settle and cool until you brought up your own problems to Tsu’tey

but really, you were also tired, the bedroll cold when you went to bed and barely warm when you woke up, Tsu’tey’s tail whipping out of the tent flap as he sped to go to training

it had frustrated you, leaving you to stop cutting and peeling fruits for him, finding the best cut of meat for him at meals, and talking to him during meals

you had thought your avoidance towards him would perhaps maybe bring his attention to you, but he hadn’t even noticed, barely present at any meal times, off in the forest deep in the night to practice his hunting and stalking skills

and then, you had resorted to bothering him during training, when you knew he was busy to try and get his attention

he had not appreciated it and dismissed you many times, but you supposed flirting with the dream walker today snapped him out of whatever trance he had on training

his hand presses further into the small of your back as he thrusts his cock into you, barely a rhythm as he snarls at you, fangs bared

“what, you think i can’t please you? my own mate?” his voice is a deep growl, sending shivers up your spine and your tail whipping in the air

he grabs it into his other hand, pulling at it roughly and drawing a loud choked sound out of your throat

you claw at the dirt underneath your hands, tears staining the earth along with your arousal, the clear liquid dripping down the inside of your plush thighs and into the dirt

Tsu’tey ignores your clit, opting to just growl and snap his hips into yours, enough so that there’s a wet slap every time he fucks back into you

it’s feral how he snarls, spitting insults about the dreamwalker, and you can barely process them as he lets go of your tail and brings it to grip onto your hip, nails digging into your skin

“you belong to me, yeah? only i can fuck you like this, make you this into this pathetic mess.” his hand that was pressing into the small of your back moves forward and grabs onto your kuru, gently tugging at it

pleasure bursts in your vision as you gasp for air, “Tsu’tey please please, i’m sorry, i- agh ah hah!”

his hand once again tugs on your kuru, and your mind goes blank, tongue nothing more than a block of wood as you struggle to beg for your own pleasure

“aw what? you’re gonna have to speak up, syulang.” his voice holds a tint of arrogance, teasing, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fall apart underneath his hands

bruises would be sure to paint your hips, you would remember every thrust everytime you sit down or crouch, and you struggle to formulate sentences as you try and answer his question

“agggh hah mmnng,” only pathetic moans can slip from you as he angles his hips slightly, finally giving you slight reprieve as the tip of his cock bullies into your sweet spot, a rush of your arousal rushing through you and coating him

a thick ring of your slick forms around the base of his dick, and Tsu’tey stares at it, licking his lips as he lets go of your kuru, draping his body over yours so that his chest presses into your upper back and leaning his weight onto one forearm

“c’mon syulang, i can’t hear you.” his fangs sink into the skin of your neck, tasting your sweat and your musk, feeling your heartbeat on the tip of his tongue

Tsu’tey brings his fingers to your clit, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves, his hips still steadily fucking into you with wet slaps

“agh ah ah i- ughh,” it’s the only thing you can whine as he rubs your clit in between two fingers roughly, the callouses on his fingertips rubbing deliciously against you

you can hardly think, back arching further to try and get him deeper into you, only focused on how you need to cum

your mate groans, feeling your pussy clench around him, sucking him in deeper, tempting him to cum inside of you so that you smell like him, so that no other suitor would dare to try and chase you

Tsu’tey nips at your neck once more, making sure that there would be bitemarks left before pressing his tongue against the mark to ease the pain

“you think you deserve to cum? after all that? after flaunting what is mine in front of that demon?” anger flares through him once more at the thought of that dreamwalker taking you away from him

“please, pleeaase, only yours, forever yours” you whimper it quietly, heavy tongue somehow forming the words as you drool, so close to your release, to the height of pleasure

he groans at your admission that you belong to him, that you’re only his, and he kisses your neck as he grunts, pinching at your clit again, rubbing it just how he has memorized

his fingers have mapped your body, traveled every crevice and bump and knows you better than he knew himself

Tsu’tey belonged to you just as much as you belonged with him, and he was yours

a groan falls from his mouth as his hips stutter and his hot cum fills you, short shallow thrusts fucking his seed further into you as he rides out his orgasm

you keen as you cum at the same time, pussy clenching tightly as you bring him in deeper to you, desperate needy whine moans falling from yout mouth as you finally dive over the cliff into pleasure

the both of you pant into the air, letting it cool and bring you back to reality

still, your brain still feels full of fuzz, like pollen had sunk into your head, and you lay limbless in the shrubbery, too tird to try and talk

Tsu’tey stays for a few minutes more before pressing a soft kiss to your neck and pulling out of you, whispering a small apology as you whine at the feeling, oversensitive now

he gently picks you up into his arms, smiling to himself now that you smell like him completely and wholly

the wind is quiet as he brings you to the calm rivers, “the water’s going to be cold, syulang.”

you nuzzle into his chest, humming, and he steps into the water slowly, letting you sink into the water with him as you cling onto his neck and breathe slow breaths

he settles you into his lap, running his hands over your body and wiping away the sweat gently from your neck and your face

trailing one hand in between your legs, he gentle cleans you of your arousal, pressing apology kisses to your forehead as his fingers rubs at your sensitive pussy

you just let out a somewhat irritated and hum and cling tighter to him, not wanting this moment to end

“i missed you, Tsu’tey.” it’s a quiet whisper from you, but he hears it and sighs, leaning his chin on your shoulder

“i know, i missed you too. i’m sorry, i should’ve paid you more attention, syulang. forgive me?” his voice is just as quiet, the words only for you and the quiet of the forest

a pause of silence from you passes by, “yeah, i forgive you.”

Tsu’tey smiles and continues to hold you in your arms until the night underneath the eclipse appears