#i wish they had given us more soft moments between them

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Seventeen

Summary: Reader is visited. Geta & his future empress share a moment.

Notes/Warnings: No warnings, some fluff, some angst, some dated views on religion & gods, dated views on communicating with the dead.

Pallas parts of a woman’s attire.

Thank you so much for reading!

❤️s, reblogs, comments & feedback is always welcome! 💐 If you would like to be tagged. Just ask! 💐

In may have been a short while but you had grown used to sitting off to the side behind Geta for everything from outside of the royal domus to this one or the one in country. It felt comfortable. It felt safe. But this was the first time you sat right beside him.

Some eyes flickered your way and when you caught them most looked away. A few who didn’t, you then looked away. But that was a only small handful.

Idly, you wondered if one of those here now were brazen enough to threaten you and then attend the banquet welcoming Geta’s mother. For a passing moment you could feel the cold metal against your throat. Quietly, you shrugged off the ill thoughts you would not allow that person to bring shadows to the feels of excitement you felt.

A herald, proudly announced his mother. There were cheers, clapping, hands over hearts and fists in the air.

You happily clapped. She may have said things possibly to upset you; but you knew how serious, nervous your own had been when your elder brother married. So you understood her emotions. You didn’t like them, but you understood.

You watched as she settled not far from you and Geta. Though an empty place was near here. You knew it was where Caracalla would be. You wondered idly where he would be.

At the memory of your mother, silently you sent her a prayer, you wished reached her in the afterlife. Hopefully, Pluto would allow her to hear the love of a daughter.

You followed Geta’s lead as you have before and sat. You relaxed once glasses began to clink, food began to be consumed and the hush of whispers and voices filled the air, laced by the beautiful playing of a lyre. You had heard, his mother was fond of those strings being plucked.

“Blossom?”

You resisted the urge to flinch. Geta’s voice was low, comforting.

“Yes?” You gave him a side long glance., while a smile played on your lips.

You had taken notice that the inky black was sharper around his eyes, and the sweet smelling powders, took and hid the flush of the anger that had burned so hotly in him. He was looking incredibly handsome.

“You looked far away. Are you in good spirits?”

You nodded. “Yes. Your words had given me great comfort.”

“Good.”

He sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, yet you felt under the table as he grabbed your hand and held your hand. He brought it to his thigh. His hand rested over yours.

Moments later, you heard a sharp chirp, before four tiny hands landed on your shoulder. You gave Dondas a glance. “Hello Dondas.” You greeted softly.

“Brother, you thought I’d be late didn’t you?”

Caracalla said in a soft, singsong voice, his overly warm hand rested on your shoulder just beside Dondas’s small ones and glancing at Geta, he had rested his other hand on his brother’s shoulder. He bent between the two of you, a lopsided smile was across his face.

“Not terribly so. Mother on the other hand may have.”

He giggled, more childlike than the ones you had heard when they were in the royal box.

“I wouldn’t miss a banquet for her.”

He appeared to waver on his feet. You wondered idly if he had more wine than he should before arriving. Standing again he slipped away from the two of you. Though, it was not before Dondas jumped from your shoulder to Caracalla. It landed, scuttled up one of the many colorful fabrics that hung and were twisted around him.

You glanced as he went over their mother, a strained look came over her face. You’d know that look on anyone.

*******

As the night grew on, and several dishes had been passed and glasses had been filled and refilled. Exhaustion, grew heavier on you. You could see as a cloud of it appeared to cross Geta’s eyes more than once.

With a gentle tug one you were familiar with you allowed yourself to be drawn closer to Geta.

“Yes, Geta.” You said barely above a whisper.

You were not entirely certain how to address him, especially in the presence of his mother.

“Sleep is attempting to claim me. And I am sure it is trying to claim you. Shall we walk back to my chambers and yours ?”

“Yes, please.”

*******

A handful of praetorian guards were close. You felt as if your every move was looked over. Did their opinion matter? Did they even concern themselves with his decision to make you his empress. Your stomach churned with all of the foods you had over the course of the evening.

*******

The walk to your chambers felt shorter than any other time. You were met with the brief halt outside the door to what had become your room.

“Check her room. All of you. I don’t want any corner, any shadow illuminated.” Geta’s sharply ordered.

Their armor, their swords and their feet jangled and thundered louder as they past the two of you.

After the last one passed the two of you in the passage way, a lone torch only flicked from the wall. You gasped as Geta, suddenly pulled you took him. His solid body, was against yours. It stole your breath. You barely saw a flash of his dark eyes, which were even darker with the ebony ink that still traced them. His lips found yours. They stole and pulled a kiss from you. Your lips responded in turn. It had felt like, eons since the last time they touched.

Distantly, there was the loud sound of the guards returning the door that separated the two of you.

You both parted, your heart like horses at a strong gallop and the warmth of the wine you drank was stronger.

The door opened. “Her chambers are safe.” Gallus, informed. You recognized him from other times Geta had spoken with him.

“Stay in her room while she slumbers. Just before Sol turns the sky from a rich purple to a clear blue, keep watch over her and fetch me. Then you shall retire till the moon in its brilliance in high once again in the sky.” Geta, ordered.

“Yes, sire.” Gallus, nodded.

You were surprised that he would fetched at such a time in the day or even at all. Looking his way, his eyes flickered and briefly met yours.

“Till dawn.” He said.

You bowed gently. The act felt right at that moment. “Till dawn.”

*******

“You will not know that I’m here.” Gallus told you sometime later.

“I am not terribly sure of this. But I will take your word.”

“Yes, my augusta.”

You glanced at him after the reply he had given you. You but his gaze did not meet you, but appeared to be on the hard ground before him.

You were not sure if it was right or even the particular act would be frowned upon. But you loosened some of the twists of your hair. As you finally laid for the evening. Left in your under stolla with the scarves in their colorful brilliance laid on one of your chairs. Like that of an artists work on one of the walls.

It was still rather stirring within you, there was a lounge, two chairs and this bed that was much too big in your chambers. You had only had some bedding and stool and the stool as still something you had grown accustomed to.

Lying in the bed, a whirl of emotions twisted and moved within you. A chill lingered from having that knife at your throat made you pull the blanket higher.

*******

You found yourself on a cool, stone bench. Blue, silvery water lapper at the dark gray and black stone that crested the water and were under foot.

A great dread and loneliness came over you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, wondering what you could possibly doing there. It was unlike anything your eyes had ever fallen on.

Feeling, a sharp chill graze your shoulder you looked up and gasped.

“Mother!” You leapt up, with no hesitation you threw your arms around her. She felt frailer, colder than she ever had in life. Your touch was feather light. You pulled back.

“Mother.” You said softly.

She nodded. “I heard your prayer.”

Tears, sprang from your eyes.

“The gods favor you, they favor him at this time. They grant us this gift.”

She came and sat beside you, cool fingers that barely you felt brushed aside your tears.

You took her hand, in both of yours. You wished you could give it some of your warmth.

“Oh, mother I…” You stumbled over over what to say. There was so much. “I don’t even know words to speak.”

She nodded, a smile not as radiant as a summers day touched her lips but it was a smile.

“Words are on a breeze my daughter but your heart has spoken.”

You squeezed her hand, knowing she had heard your prayer.

“Oh, mother.”

Her hand easily took yours had was graced with the precious ring and delicate bracelet Geta had given you. She gently touched the ring.

“My sweet girl, wild as an untamed mare.” She looked up at you. “A flame that burns brightly within you is why the gods chose you for him. You both are very strong, powerful flames.”

“It is not just curly, fiery strands that crown his head.”

A shadow of the amusement that only your mother could make fell over her face.

“Even here you have that flame that had caused so much worry in my heart..”

“Where is here?”

“A place where I am now, and hopefully you will not bring any light to for a very long time.”

“Why am I here now then?”

“Your being, you came close. Your flame danced on its wick but remained strong. And since, the gods do guide him and they allowed you to see my acceptance.”

“Mother.”

********

A warm hand, a gentle touch grazed your shoulder, startled you awake.

Terribly ruffled curls fell into his forehead as he looked down at you.

“Geta.”

“Yes, blossom.”

You sat up and not caring at all; you hugged him. You needed his solid warmth. You trembled as his arms, strong and warm wrapped around you. His hand gently moved up and down your back.

“This is this is the time between night and day. It is our time.��

Purple light flooded into your room. Gently pulled back and nodded after meeting his eyes.

“I am grateful for that. I had missed you.”

“And I you.”

You held each other then. At that moment, you don’t know why he needed you, but you knew why you did. You enjoyed his solid warmth.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringwhore @justalittlebitshy @littlemissholy

[spyder-baby]

A song for the harsher moments

Mudhoney - Mudride

You've seen better days Before you saw me That's lost in a haze You've got nowhere to be

[tbaluver]

caught wet handed!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader summary: they caught you touching yourself requested by: @xylanhio, @batatahahaha, + 3 others anons ( mssged them priv ! ) tags: will be listed below each name special thank you to my beta readers mwah mwah: @ilovemitsuya, @justwinginglife ₊˚⊹ ᰔ a/n: hihi my luvs! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i apologize that this took so long to write i hope you all enjoy reading and i added an extra bonus at the end for each one hehe! thank you for your patience and lmk what you think mwah! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

tags: female masturbation ( humping his pillow ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader getting eaten out

You had a rough day, frustration was just an understatement. Your teammates were uncooperative, your boss insufferable, the food at home was the last thing you wanted, and to top it all off, Xavier wouldn’t be home until later.

Dragging yourself to your shared bedroom, you slip into more comfortable clothes before collapsing into bed with a huff. You roll over to look at the empty spot beside you where he usually sleeps, pulling his pillow closer and hugging it for comfort. You breathe in the scent of your lover, the familiar smell instantly comforting you. You nuzzle your head deeper into his pillow, wishing it were him instead. 

Checking your phone for any updates on when he’ll be back home and if he could grab food on the way. You lower the pillow slightly to have a better view of your phone, pressing the pillow between your thighs and mindlessly rocking your hips. The more you rock your hips, the more it feels good and the more heat travels down to your core.

Your cunt throbs desperately for more friction as you rub yourself against the plush of his pillow, slipping your fingers down to your heat to tease yourself. The arousal pooling in your panties remind you of the night you both went round after round, minutes turning to hours of getting stuffed with his hot, creamy cum. That night leaving you both sticky and wet. You moan breathlessly riding his pillow to match the pace from your memory making the bed shake from how hard you rub against it.

It was no doubt his pillow was nowhere near what he’s given you. He would be so deep inside you, your wetness perfectly coating his entire thick base of his cock. 

You ran your fingers across your hardened nipples as you imagine Xavier sucking and placing sloppy wet kisses against the back of your neck, huffing out shallow breaths that send chills down your spine. He was so greedy that night for finding deeper angles in you, his cock exploring every part of your pussy with ease. His hands grip tightly on your hips as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly, chasing his orgasm with you again.

Your hips glide effortlessly against his pillow, fast and faster until you feel the grip on his pillow slip away from your grasp. A soft whine escapes your lips, frustrated from the emptiness in between your legs. You flutter your eyes open to find Xavier standing beside you, staring down at his pillow, specifically the wet patch from your arousal. “Don’t you think this is unfair?” 

Immediately heat floods your cheeks as you quickly avert your gaze and scoot back to your side of the bed. Before you can explain, he climbs up in front of you, his hands grasping your legs, drawing you closer. “You should use me instead.” His eyes burn with hunger as he glares into you.

Bonus For Xavier:

The moment he walked into your shared bedroom, it took him a second to realize what was happening in front of him. Your eyes close shut while he listens to the pretty sounds that slip past your lips, your hips moving effortlessly against the pillow- his pillow. He loves to hear you and see you come undone but not to his pillow. With quick strides, he rips the pillow out of your arms, thinking of burning all of his pillows or maybe just keeping this pillow with the wet patch of your arousal on it.

Xavier is always greedy and selfish when it comes to you. He wants you all to himself and he only wants to give you pleasure, nothing else. The moment he tugs your panties down and sees the mess between your legs, he immediately burries his head in, making sure no more drops are wasted. He loves to be between your legs, kneading your thighs while his warm tongue eases all your tension away. His pretty blue eyes looking up at you occasionally to take note of your reaction, his long eyelashes fluttering as he sucked on your clit.

You don’t remember how many rounds he’s gone for but your body felt mushy and boneless, completely forgetting about your worries and frustrations that happened today. He made such lewd noises as he sucked and slurped your cum again and again into his mouth as if it were water, his tongue devoted to every single drop you’ve given him. The noises you made only spurred him on, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he held you down.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your hands digging into the sheets of the bed while your back arched. He groans into your cunt, the sound sending vibrations deep inside your weeping cunt as you cream all over his face again. He holds your trembling body tightly, making sure to not waste all the juices gush out of you. “One more time?” 

Zayne:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), fem! reader receiving fingering

Recently Zayne’s schedule has become unpredictable lately. His pager would buzz at the most inconvenient times, during your meals or when he was just about to settle in next to you for bed. You could see the apologetic look on his face when the call came in and you knew without a doubt that he had to leave. 

As the chief surgeon, his role at the hospital was always crucial and you understood the weight of his responsibility. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before trailing down to meet your lips. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close for a brief moment before he pulls away, heading back to the hospital again.

No matter how busy his days would be, he always found a moment to reach out to you. Whether it was a quick message before his surgery or a brief text after his meetings. He doesn’t let you feel completely alone.

☃︎:‘Make sure you’re taking breaks.’

☃︎:‘Eat well and drink plenty of water’

☃︎:‘Don’t stay up too late waiting for me again. It’s important to get rest.’

☃︎:‘Have a goodnight. Sleep well.’

You could hear his voice reach out to you across your screen but it wasn’t the same. No amount of text or calls could replace the warmth of his presence. You missed him deeply and it was hard to ignore the empty space beside you at night. Life has felt frustrating lately, with work and everything else outside of it added more pressure while his absence lingers in the air. You craved some kind of relief.

You roll over to his side of his bed, his scent still lingering on his pillows. You can imagine him there, half-lidded eyes watching your head fly back as you bounce on his cock. Your hands rest on his defined abs to keep you steady while his large hands rest on your hips, occasionally slipping down to squeeze the plush of your ass.  

Heat travels down between your legs the more you think of him. His lips on your clit, sucking so harshly that it makes filthy noises echo in the room. Zayne hasn’t messaged you yet, so you assumed he was busy in another meeting and you couldn’t ignore the heat building up between your legs, so you decided to take care of yourself for now.

You laid back against his pillows with your legs spread wide, slowly sliding your finger up your folds before sliding it in while the other pinches your hardened nipples, something Zayne would do. Adding another finger in, you feel the slow stretch and start a steady pace.

Your fingers were much smaller compared to what Zayne offers you. He’s reached places that you didn’t even know were possible and only he can reach. Two of your fingers were nowhere near to what you want but you’ll manage to make it work for the night

You thrust your fingers in and out of you, sliding them as deep as you could. Soft noises escape you as your fingers rocked in and out of your weeping cunt, sending lustful waves throughout your whole body.

You were so consumed by your own euphoria, the relief after days of frustration, that you didn’t even notice Zayne opening the door to your shared bedroom. He was at a loss of words with what he saw play out right in front of him. Your eyes were clenched shut as you focused on trying to reach your high that you didn’t even notice his presence. His eyes were so fixated on your body that he couldn’t look away, the heat traveling down to his cock. He watches the way your fingers pick up the pace, the sound of your fingers dipping in and out of you while you softly moan his name against his pillow. He can feel his erection straining against his trousers.

You whimper out his name, your back arching, meaning you were close. He watches you pull out, your warm slick arousal drip down your fingers while your eyes flutter open, finally realizing he was there the entire time.

You yelp, your face flushing with embarrassment as you scramble to pull the blankets around yourself. “Z-Zayne?!” Your eyes trail down to see the visible erection that begged to be free.

He shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he steps closer and closer while loosening his tie. “You don’t need to cover yourself. I’ve seen you countless times.” He hovers over you, his voice low. “It seems you’re taking longer finishing by yourself. Have you been having issues while I was away?" He lowers himself to meet your height, his breath fanning against your lips before he captures them with his own. "I can help fix that for you if you'd like.”

Seems like you’re not the only one who’s been missing some company.  

Bonus For Zayne:

His large hand cradles your cheek as he kisses you hungrily, wanting more of your soft lips on his while his fingers work wonders on your other lips. “I’ve missed you,” He whispers breathlessly, quickly chasing your lips again as if he lets you go for a second, you might disappear completely from his grasp. 

You pull away gasping, his fingers sliding across your folds, stroking them at a painfully slow pace to get you even more wet. You wanted to reply, tell him that you’ve missed him too but he was quick to close the gap between both your mouths. He wants to take his time with you, knowing that currently it’s rare for both of you to have that but he doesn’t want to keep both in agony any longer.

His fingertips drag over the opening of your cunt, arousal seeping out of you like honey. Every movement he makes is methodical, taking note of every reaction you make. "You're so wet.." He groans, coating his fingers with your arousal. The glide of his fingertips over your clit before slipping inside feeds the pleasure you craved in your gut. His other fingers wrap around your nipples, adding more pleasure straight to your core. The way your lips parted, whines turning into whimpers lets him know you feel good.

It didn’t take long for you to melt against him as he murmured sweet praises of you’re doing so well for him. His fingers thrust in and out of you, slipping a second one in when you’re ready and you already feel so full. Your fingers that tried to match his girth and length weren’t able to touch spots he can. His eyes averting occasionally to watch the way your face contorts from the pleasure before trailing down to watch your breasts slightly jiggle from the movement.

His digits are knuckle deep inside of you, prodding at the sweet spot within you as they thrust in and out of your velvety walls. Obscene squelches of your soaking cunt as he angles his wrist and curls his fingers. It’s not long until your walls are clamping down on his fingers, pleasure flowing through your body and veins. Your hands that rest on his chest run up to his shoulders, holding onto him tightly, trembling from the sensitivity.

You ride out your high, his fingers slowing down as his free hand caresses and knead your hips.

He presses soft, lingering kisses to the top of your head, the silence in the room only broken by your shared breaths. Neither of you need to say a word to feel the weight of how much you’ve missed each other.

Rafayel:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader getting eaten out with a mix of fingering

You were exhausted. After a long day, you finally got to come home late as your boss had let you leave early once your mission was complete, letting the rest of the team pack it up. Rafayel wasn’t home, he was off at some art event Thomas had dragged him too. All day long, he had been glued to his phone, sending you messages about how boring the event was without you and how he wished you were there so you two could run away together. He would sneak off by himself but running away alone just wasn’t the same. As you stared at your phone, your eyelids grew heavier. You barely had a chance to let him know you were home early before you drifted off into deep sleep.

Meanwhile

He felt so hot, his head spinning. He had to excuse himself from the guest, ignoring what Thomas had to say as he entered the bathroom. The burning heat surged through his body and traveled through his lower half. It was getting unbearable. His head was throbbing, he needed to get away and go home. He needed- no, wanted you. His mind and body called out for you.

-

You shifted slightly in your shared bed, your eyebrows furrowing as your dreams started to unfold, unaware that arousal seeps through your panties. The familiar bedroom around you felt hazy but Rafayel on top of you was clear as ever. You could feel spit drip down your chin as you both pull away from the messy and sloppy kiss, the tip of his cock sliding against your throbbing clit made you gasp. 

Soft whimpers escape his lips as he listens to all the sweet delicious sounds you make for him, his large hands grip your thighs as he presses his cock into your cunt, watching how you swallow him up so easily.

He lowers himself, littering kisses to your chest as you wrap your legs around him. His balls smack against the curve of your ass with every powerful thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core. Just as you were about to meet your high, you woke up abruptly, feeling the wet patch in between your legs.

You sigh, trailing your fingers down, making small circles around your clit before slowly inserting them in easily from how wet you are. Your fingers slid in and out of you, your mind wandering between how the dream would finish or the times Rafayel has touched you.

You’d imagine how he’d insert himself deeper and deeper into you, pulling out just a little, then dipping further back in while rubbing circles around your clit. How his hair tickles your skin while his tongue works circles around your perky buds before swirling his tongue around the base of mounds of flesh.

You ran your fingers across your perky nipples while your other hand slid in and out of your wet walls. Soft noises and moans of his name escape your lips, the relief you anticipated for picking up.

Until the door abruptly opening startles you from reaching that, your fingers slipping out of your wet hole, making you close your legs shut.

“You...” Rafayel pants, his eyes looking at you hungrily. It was as if he was starving and you were his only prey. “Dirty girl..” He mutters under his breath, inching closer and closer towards you with some sway in his walk as if your body was luring him in. He crawls onto the bed you, the bed shifting it's weight as his body pins you beneath him. "Wouldn't it be much..." He groans, spreading your legs to look at the mess between your thighs. "better if it were me instead?"

Bonus For Rafayel:

He wonders if you could feel the way his heart pounded when he saw you in front of him, legs spread open as you played with your wet cunt. You were calling out to him and he wonders if you did it on purpose or did it to tease him. He can’t seem to think straight, his entire body felt hot with need and he needed you badly.

Rafayel is face deep into your pussy, lapping up the juices while his thumb lightly brushes your clit. His other hand settles around your thigh, kneading the flesh deeply as if he were trying to feel more of you all at once. You were too lost in the pleasure, not noticing the way he ruts against the mattress. He wants more of you but he can’t seem to leave between your legs, lapping up all the drops that you give him as if your arousal was the water he needed to breathe.

“yeah? like that?” he groans softly against your cunt when your hands grab a fistful of his hair, the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach building up. He hums, the sound adding more stimulation to your core. He knows you like that. The way he glanced up at you, studying the way your breasts rose and fell, your lips parted let him know you were absolutely enjoying it.

He continues adding his fingers into the mix, switching between his tongue. You rock your hips back and forth against his mouth, panting his name again and again, breathy moans until your orgasm washes over you.  You grind your high out, bruises slowly forming on your thighs from his tight grip. Your juices and spit coat his lips and drip down to his chin. However he was not finished with you yet, his eyes still clouded with hunger and need. 

Sylus:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader getting eaten out

You laid on your shared bed, legs spread with your fingers curling inside of your tight cunt, your thighs rubbing desperately. After a long time apart due to both of your busy schedules, you finally had the chance to be together but just as you were about to make up for lost time, an emergency on his end pulled him away the next morning. Rushed wet kisses and lingering touches on your soft bare skin as if he was leaving for a long time. He held you for a brief moment, taking one last good look and stealing one last kiss before he had to leave.

You kept his shirt from the night before on, afraid his scent might disappear from you completely. The sleeves of his shirt occasionally slipping down your shoulders as you move your fingers rhythmically in and out of your slick folds.

You thought about what happened last night, soft breathing fanning against each other's lips while his large hands held onto your hips tightly as he thrusts into you at a slow pace, making sure you feel every inch and vein of his cock.  Your name leaves his lips once, twice, again and again while constantly hitting your sweet spot. Your breasts bounced as his thrusts started to hit harder, shaking the entire bed. Just as you were about to recall how you met with pure ecstasy, a call interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes fluttered open, revealing none other than Sylus’s name on your screen.

‘Sweetie I hope I didn’t wake you. I know you must be tired from last night's events.’ You can hear his smile through the phone, your movements slowing. ‘I bought Mephisto a new hat on my way back- I think you would find it cute.’

You hum in response, your voice hoarse. ‘Hurry home Sy..”

He chuckles on the other end, ‘I’m almost there. I can’t wait to finally spend some time with you.’ But your mind was so dazed, your core aching for more after hearing him, his words barely registered as you set the phone aside.

You sigh, starting over the pace you set again, completely unaware that neither you or Sylus had ended the call. Two fingers rub circles on your clit while the other hand pinches your exposed nipple that was peeking out from his button up. Soft moans of his name fall from your lips as your fingers deliciously rub against your clit.

Shamelessly, he doesn’t end the call. Instead, he rushes back home, muting his side to avoid disturbing your relief, even though you probably couldn’t hear him from your series of lewd noises on your end.

You match the pace of your imagination of what Sylus would do, his name desperately spilling from your lips.

His pace would build up faster and faster, you imagined, feeling yourself inch closer to your peak- until you suddenly hear his actual voice, clearing his throat. Your eyes snap open, locking with his crimson gaze. “Enjoying yourself?” He leaned against the doorframe, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips as he scans your entire body. His eyes trail lower, amused at the mess between your legs, nothing on but his shirt.

“S-Sylus?” He can’t get enough of you hearing you say his name, how he craves to hear it over and over again.

He nods, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt but..” He stalks towards you, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over in between yours. “won’t you let me have a taste?”

Bonus For Sylus:

Your arousal settles in quick the moment he enters you with his tongue, earning a gasp from you. “Like this princess?” He hums into you, the vibrations sending pleasure down to your core. He holds you close to his face, buried face deep inside you, encouraging you to make a mess on him- maybe even suffocate him if you want. Your back arches with every drag of his tongue along your wet folds as he loudly slurps up your slick. 

The pink wet muscle tip laps up your wetness eagerly, filling you up while stroking the sensitive bud delicately with his thumb. It didn’t take long for his chin to be dripping quickly. He groans softly into your heat when he dives in, feeling your walls twitch against his fat tongue. 

His tongue explores every centimeter of your gummy walls before speeding up. His dark heavy gaze filled with lust flicker up at you, watching you in awe. Your stomach clenched, your legs trembling under him.  Your legs are trembling as his tongue works against you mercilessly. Your thighs shake as your juices coat his face. 

He licks his lips, making sure no remains of your sweet substance goes to waste before diving right back between your legs to lick off the juices off your skin and entrance, earning a yelp from you. He places gentle kisses over the marks he left on your thighs from his tight grip, while his other hand traces soothing circles on the other.

Caleb:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader recieving fingering from his metal arm

Your eyes flutter open slowly, Caleb’s scent wrapping around you, yet he is nowhere near you. The shirt he wore last night oversized on you while the lingering comforting scent surrounds you as you roll to his side of the bed. It was too early- it was the afternoon, to be up right now. You were still exhausted from last night, your mind dazed to worry where Caleb disappeared too.

You close your eyes, your mind drifting back to the night before, your fingers lightly tracing the marks he left on you.

How did it go again? Your fingers trace the marks he left on you, attempting to copy the movements he made last night.

Ragged breaths fan over each other's lips after a heated kiss, his erection pressing between your thighs. Caleb whimpers, running his tongue down to the side of your neck, leaving a wet trail down to your breasts. The top of his tongue circles around your hard nipples, letting one go with a wet pop! before moving to the other one. His cool, metallic hand traces delicate patterns along your inner thigh, sending chills up to your core as he pushes your legs further apart. He continues to tease you by slowly sliding his hand up higher and higher, tugging the hem of your waistband.

“Caleb please..” You whine, feeling his smirk against your skin. Without any remarks this time, he dips his fingers in slowly, coating them with your arousal. Slowly he slips a finger in with ease, feeling the way your walls clench before adding another one. He picks up the pace, savouring the sounds of your moans for him. You were already getting off just by his fingers alone, he can’t imagine how much of a mess you’ll be on his cock.

“Caleb..” Soft moans of his name slip past your lips as you curl your fingers inside of your tight cunt, your thighs rubbing together desperately to match up the friction from last night. Your fingers were no match compared to his cock and hands. They were much smaller and less girthier than what he has given you.

The way you were absolutely drooling on his pillows, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull whenever you tried to fill yourself up from his cock. You couldn’t see it, but he was enjoying it. Your eyes were completely shut, missing out on the way he was completely enjoying your disheveled state. The way you held onto him so tightly so you two wouldn't disconnect. He starts with a few slow strokes, the bulge in your belly could've made him finish in you immediately but not yet. He needs more of you, he needs to hear more of how good he makes you feel.

You clenched your eyes shut, concentrating on the pleasure from last night, making sure the rhythm matches the pace in your head. Your moans and whimpers grow louder after each few trusts as Caleb listens quietly by the doorframe. You clench and spasm around your fingers buried inside of you, pleasure washing over you.

Pulling your fingers out, the warmth of your slick clings to your fingers. As you flutter your eyes open, you’re met with Caleb standing in front of you, his chiseled chest and his grey sweatpants that hung dangerously loose on his waist. His gaze locking onto the mess you made between your thighs, his erection is clearly visible from the thin material.

He approaches you slowly, the mischievous smile still playing on his lips as he sets the plate of brunch he prepared for you earlier on the nightstand. He climbs onto the bed, pinning you beneath him. “Now that I’m here..I don’t think you need these anymore.” With his free hand he grabs the your hand coated with your arousal, inspecting it for a moment before licking it clean himself.

Bonus For Caleb:

Every day Caleb is grateful that the world advanced to the point where they finally built in the sensation of touch in his robotic arm, allowing him to finally remember how it feels to hold you and know what it’s like to feel you clench down on his metallic fingers.

“I can feel you..You’re so wet down here..” His eyes are half lidded, both of you panting breathily, his stiff cock twitches in his confinements of his sweatpants as he watches your mouth part as the cool metal fingers pump in and out of you. He imagines how it would feel so much better to have you clenching around on his cock instead but he is a patient man. His cock was aching to be coated with your weakness but he’s waited much longer.

You whimper, moaning out his name breathlessly while rolling your hips against his hand. Caleb watches your trembling form as he finds that sweet spot only he can reach inside you. Each thrust of his cold fingers pushes you further into a state of pure ecstasy. He sped up the pace, targeting your sweet spot over and over again until your body washes over with absolute pleasure. He helps you ride out your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers from your throbbing cunt. He raises his metal arm, his fingers still warm from your core, licking it out of satisfaction.

if you haven't already read it, here's the other version where you caught them! caught white handed!

my other works: masterlist pg. 1 , p.2

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Fall of an Empire

Summary: The fall of an empire began because of the love for a woman.

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader (romantic), Emperor Caracalla x Reader (platonic)

A/N: I will be honest, wish I had written this as soon as I left theaters but it's as good as I could make it. 😅

Warning: Major character deaths and some movie spoilers if you haven't seen it yet

Divider credits @saradika

It was never meant for her.

To most onlookers, it became quite obvious that should anything ever happen to the empress, that it would not take long for the twin emperors to descend into madness. The two had a penchant for violence, one that was difficult for them to be ever satisfied and somehow it came to be that Geta, was consumed by the love and affection he held for his wife from the moment their eyes met on the day they were wed.

While Caracalla viewed her with a brotherly love, calling her sister the day they met and appreciating her all the more when she gifted him with his prized monkey Dondas. Her gentle but firm hand was quick to soften the temper of the brothers, there was still a madness that brewed beneath the surface and all knew, it would all turn to ruin should anything befall the young empress.

She shouldn't have been there that day.

Still in the early months, the empress' pregnancy was an open secret amongst everyone in the senate and many were cautious to incur the wrath of their emperors as their protectiveness seemed to reach even greater heights than was the norm. Her recent symptoms had her spending much more time in the royal couples chambers, hiding away to let the nauseousness abate. The same symptom that had kept her from being by the side of her husband and brother by law during the first initial days of games in the colosseum meant to celebrate the conquest of Numidia.

The fateful day had begun like most in its mundanity for the young Emperor Geta and his lovely wife (Y/N), both rousing slowly with the rise of Helios in the sky with their legs tangled together and in a tender warm embrace as they had slept. Geta was careful to cradle his wife in his arms, his hands languidly caressing her small bump that had only recently begun to show in recent weeks.

"How is the little one treating you this morning, beloved?" Geta whispered between soft kisses to her neck.

Stretching tiredly, she cupped his cheek in her hand, "Much better than usual. I think the concoction made by the healer has finally had an effect because I actual feel like joining you and Caracalla today."

"Are you certain?" he asked softly. "There's no need for you to join us if you aren't feeling up to the task. I can come up with another excuse if needed."

"Stop fussing, my love" she giggled. "I truly feel leagues better and the gladiators will be fighting by water today, do you think I would want to miss such a feat?"

His brow creased in uncertainty. He knew that if his wife was truly not up to the task of being by his side that she would make it known. But there was an uneasiness that he couldn't seem to shake off.

He gently untangled himself from their loving embrace, quickly dressing himself in a robe and took strides to the jeweled chest atop of her vanity, clutching the box to his chest and returning to her side. Carefully, Geta helped his wife put on her jewelry and pressing a kiss to her hands or lips for every adornment that he placed on her.

"Your well being is my top priority," he said kneeled by her side. "The moment that you feel anything amiss, we leave. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my love" she conceded with a smile.

Geta wasn't given a chance to say anything more as the doors to their chambers were pushed open by none other than Caracalla. The younger brother giggling in amusement when he stepped in.

"Lovely morrow for a bit of violence and blood, wouldn't you say brother? Will my radiant sister join us at last or has your little parasite incapacitated her once more?"

"I will be with both of you, little brother" (Y/N) said gently. "And please refrain from calling your niece or nephew a parasite, you wouldn't want to upset them before they have even arrived."

Caracalla waved her off and smiled, "The little parasite can complain when they're older. Until then, I can call them whatever I like because they seem to enjoy making you suffer." He leaned down and spoke to the small bump, "You'll be an absolute menace, isn't that right little parasite?"

Geta huffed out in mild annoyance and began to push his brother out of the room, "You can make more complaints about my progeny later. My wife and I are still not dressed."

"Oh, I don't mind staying."

"We will see you in the colosseum brother," Geta said with a shove and closing the doors. When they were shut, he turned back to his wife. "Let us make haste then before he tries to come bother again."

It was chaos below in the arena, the barbarian Hanno had led his group of men into ramming their boat against the opposing side and there was so much to see that it all became difficult to track. Smoke from the flames burning the boat made the task near impossible, but it didn't stop the adrenaline from coursing the veins of the young emperors from the glimpses they could see.

"My love," the empress called to her husband in worry. "They're too close, it's too close. We must leave or take caution, the men and boats are too close."

"Don't make such a fuss, sister" Caracalla said but his gaze stayed on the carnage below. "Things are getting interesting."

Below their sight, Hanno had a crossbow in his hands with the clear intent of killing the General Acacius. The aforementioned man had no chance to warn his empress that was seated in front of him of the gladiators intentions.

It all happened so fast.

It was an accident.

The crossbow was jostled in Hanno's hands as the arrow was let loose and it struck dead center between the two emperors.

And into the empress' chest.

The two men screamed in horror, unused to the violence being so close and it having any true impact to them. Caracalla was hysterical as guards pulled him away; screeching, hitting, and calling for something to be done for his sister. While Geta was enraged as he tried to temper his emotions and pushing the guards aside.

"Everything will be alright, wife" Geta said as he held his wife's hand in his own that trembled. "We will bring the healer and then find the gladiator that is to be dealt with!"

The empress could not respond, choking on her blood as she tried to reach for her husbands face before her final breath left her body.

When she went limp in his grasp, there was no halting the enraged wail from Geta as he lost his beloved bride and unborn child in a single moment.

Nothing could stop the spiral of destruction that followed the demise of the empress.

It was General Acacius' fault as the arrow was meant for him.

It was Lucillas fault for birthing the bastard that did it.

It was their fault

It was THEIR fault

It was Geta's fault.

Or so Caracalla's mind was led to believe as he and his brother sought refuge away from the hordes of people that sought to remove them from their seats of power.

His beloved sister (Y/N) and her little parasite were gone because Geta had failed to protect them.

Dondas and he would soon follow if Geta was permitted to reign alongside him any longer.

With every slash, the voices calmed in Caracalla's mind, and it soothed him to see the same rivers of blood flow down his brother's chest just as he had seen happen to his lovely sister.

Geta although unwilling, was to be reunited with his wife and child.

Caracalla would join them soon enough.

[ireneispunk]

Duty

Jacaerys Velaryon x female reader smut

After a rough start to your marriage, whispers from the palace cause you and your betrothed to start what you should have done months ago; produce an heir.

w.c: 1487

c.w: SMUT 18+, NO use of Y/N, not exactly enemies but y'all beefing, hate sex (if you squint, but more like dislike sex and its more just sass idfk), mention of pregnancy, breeding kink, afab reader, p in v sex, fingering, overstimulation, pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so i recently watched the queen charlotte bridgerton spin off and i absolutely loved it, this is very inspired by charlotte and george's earlier dynamic tee hee.

Four months and 3 days. That is how long it has been since your wedding, and how long you have loathed your husband. The two of you were not exactly close before your betrothal on account of the rapidness of it but the tensions that spread between parts of his family did not help. You both seem to fight every conversation you had thereafter, so it became easier to avoid each other. That was until around 3 months into your betrothal that questions of when you would need your dresses altering had you worried. You were supposed to making heirs but you both exploded whilst in the same room as each other.  You’d visited the prince in his separate room and communicated the issue, he was reading by the fire. You played with your fingers in your hands as he eyed the flaw, thinking intently. He placed his book face down on the table as he petted the bench beside him. You hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to him. “Once a week, we will fulfil our, uh, duty to try and produce an heir. Once you are with child we will stop.” You thought for a moment, before nodding. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. This was not what you had wished for in your marriage. Jacaerys was a painfully handsome man, dark curls that framed he chiselled features.

“It is the end of the week today, your grace.” You spoke, not fully considering the implications of the statement. But the quicker your belly was full the better.

He turned to you, hesitated for a moment before moving closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. You were surprised by the sudden closeness of someone, let alone your husband. He looked up from beneath you with a glimmer of what he had on your wedding night, without the naïve hope. His hands slid up from your hips to the bust of your dress, he looked into your eyes before giving the bodice of your dress a quick tug down allowing your breast to spill out. You gasped as his hands cupped over your breasts, massaging them before running a thumb over your nipple. You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a warmth spread over your body. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, keeping your eyes shut or trained on the ceiling. You felt as one hand left your breast and hike up your dress further up your hips. He sighed to himself slightly, at the sight of your exposed cunt. He could not believe his luck the first time he had saw you. You were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and unfortunately that did not change the more you both disliked each other. If anything, it grew. Seeing you from across the room at formal engagements, gluing to his side when you needed to seem like the happy couple. It made the frustrations between the two of you even more palpable over the past few months, given the lack of relief. You opened your eyes to see his dark eyes looking up at you. He brought his two first fingers up to your lips, “Open.” His soft tone contradicted the demand and look upon his face. His fingers slid into your mouth, gliding across your tongue as you closed your lips around them. Out of sheer lust you grinded your hips against him, needing to feel some release and gaining small jolt at the feeling of your cunt rubbing against his clothed cock. His free hand shot to your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He removed his fingers from your mouth, admiring his spit covered fingers for a moment before they reached between your thighs and lightly grazed across your clit. You jolted, leaning forward to grip the bench behind him.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your mouth as his fingers slowly ran circles across your clit. He smirked as the noises that fell from your lips, knowing how much you couldn’t bare to be around him but fell apart in his arms was a satisfying feeling.  “I did not know you were so needy, dear wife.” The honorific felt like a pin prick. Insincere and laced with sarcasm.

Despite the tightening growing in your stomach, you could not let him have the final word as usual. “You hadn’t been paying close enough attention, your grace.” A flash of frustration flashed upon his face as his hand moved to grip your hair and fingers plunged inside of you. A gasp left you as his fingers thrusted deep inside of your cunt, you had gone from strolling towards an orgasm to being thrown at it. The tips of his fingers curled slightly, deliciously massaging that spot inside your pussy that drove you wild. You jaw fell open, eyes going wide at the loss of contact when he removed his fingers from you. You went to protest before seeing his cock in his hands, brows furrowed as he stroked the length.

You couldn’t hold off any longer before you took a hold of his wrists and pushed his hands away to his sides. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps, watching an expression of lust spread across his face. You leaned over slightly, letting a ball of spit leave your lips and watch as it slid down his cock. He hissed, returning his hands to your hips pulling you closer to him. You took the hint, angling his cock towards your pussy, rubbing the tip over your clit for your own pleasure a few times, before lining him up and sliding down slowly, a large groan left his lips as be bottomed out inside of you. You had forgotten just how big his cock was, and just how good it had felt filling you up. You began to raise your hips up and down, moans leaving your lips as you did. You worked at a steady pace but after being accustomed to his hands began to push up and down with the movements of your hips moving you faster. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into you, no matter how much your stifled your moans, you gave him the satisfaction of them loudly leaving your lips. His hand reached up to yours, removing it from his shoulders and moving your fingers between your legs. You immediately got his instruction, fingers latching onto your clit. You worked tight circles into it as you got filled over and over with Jacaerys’ cock. A familiar tightness returned to your stomach as your head dropped back and numerous illicit words left your lips. Recognising your peak, he pulled you forward by your thighs, almost pressing your bodies against each other as he quickened his pace. Your orgasm cascaded over you, feeling your pussy tighten around Jacaerys’ cock and your body buzz from the overstimulation. You rode out your high atop of him, watching as his eyes screwed shut and his thrusts became sloppier.

You took the opportunity to return your knees to the bench either side of him and bob your hips up and down as fast as you could. His fingers reached the lip of the bench gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “Mmm, my grace,” You moaned out. His eyes shot open, his heart pounding at your remark. “Please fill me with your seed.” You pleaded and moaned, half doing it for a reaction, half because it felt too good. His jaw hung open in shock for a split second before he sputtered a moan from his lips, hips snapping into yours. You felt satisfied as a warmth filled your pussy. Your hips moved slightly, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you still. His hand shot to your hip, mumbling something, before you placed your hand flat across his chest. You bobbed a few more times on his cock, being sure to be as full as possible with his cum. You smirked to yourself seeing his head throne back, lip quivering, veins prominent in his hands gripping your waist, sweaty curls sticking to his neck. You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, standing to your feet and trying to mask your wobbliness as adjusting your dress.

You stole a glance his way, admiring his beauty before he spoke and ruined it. He panted through his mouth, arms outstretched over the sides of the bench. You smirked to yourself, admiring how he too had crumbled for you. The opening of his doorhandle caused him to call your name from behind you. You glanced at him and smiled. “Goodnight your grace, see you in seven eves’.” He opened his mouth to response, but you had already shut the door behind you. You hoped it would be sooner before he fucked you again.

[khywren]

Denouement

pairing: Astarion/f!reader rating: 18+ MDNI word count: 3.1k tags/warnings: smut, emotional sex, piv sex, fingering, soft spawn Astarion

summary: Bergamot and rosemary ensnare your senses, and your eyes flutter closed. Here in his arms, you are safe. Home. “I think I'm ready to try again,” Astarion says after a moment, pulling you close. “Just you. Just us.” ────────── In which Astarion is ready to explore intimacy with you once again.

a/n: based on this little drabble from the other week! the title is derived from a literary device where all the threads of a story finally come together - the a-ha moment, if you will. i thought it was rather fitting for this piece, given the circumstances. :)

AO3 ┊ masterlist

It's well past sundown when you join Astarion in your shared bedroom. You find him in his usual spot, needle and thread in hand as he busies himself with a bit of embroidery. Deft fingers weave the needle through the fabric, defining the outline of what looks to be the petals of a rose. Lost in his work, he seems not to notice your arrival.

You've already dressed for bed. The sleeves of his old camp shirt nearly fall past your fingertips, and although the garment doesn't quite swallow you, it's still loose enough to be comfortable in the lingering summer heat. 

Astarion had made plenty of sarcastic remarks when you had insisted on keeping it, teasing you about being overly sentimental. Perhaps there was some truth to that, but the first time he had laid eyes on you when you came to bed wearing little else but that same shirt, laces loose enough to expose the tantalizing swell of your breasts beneath the fabric, it had been all the vindication you needed. 

You wear it now out of habit more than anything, ensuring that you remain enveloped in his scent even during those rare times his arms aren't wrapped snugly around you in the middle of the night.

As you pad quietly across the floorboards, Astarion looks up, gaze sweeping across the room before finally settling on you. He's looking at you like he did that first time, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and you catch his throat bob as he swallows thickly. 

His eyes never leave you, even as he sets his work aside on the nightstand. It's hard to know what he's thinking, and for a moment you almost wish you still had your tadpoles so you could peer into his mind.

Hand outstretched, he beckons you to him.

Few things about Astarion surprise you anymore, but there's something different about the way he laces your fingers between his own and tugs you down into his lap, something possessive that catalyzes a shiver of excitement within you. Gooseflesh blooms in its wake, and you settle comfortably on top of his thighs.

His fingers caress your jaw and glide through the soft hair at the nape of your neck, guiding your lips down to meet his own. The kiss is insistent but soft, a gentle tug on your roots prompting you to open your mouth for him. Astarion eagerly slips his tongue inside, humming contentedly into your mouth as he kisses you breathless.

When he remembers that you need to breathe, he reluctantly lets you pull away. He's waiting for the moment you let him have you once more, his impatience evident in the way he furrows his brow and slots his mouth back over yours when he feels you've taken long enough.

You laugh against the press of his lips.

“Astarion, what's gotten into you?”

He silences your protests with another barrage of kisses, tearing his mouth away from yours only to pepper more of them across the curve of your jaw as he traces a searing path towards your ear. You're fond of the way his fangs graze your skin, the gentle nips he gives you as he turns his attention to your earlobe.

Your breath hitches, your body becoming pliant in his arms as he clamps his free hand around your waist. Caged within your ribs, your heart drums its staccato beat.

“I've been thinking,” he murmurs against your ear between kisses, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That sounds awfully dangerous.” Your hands find their way into his shirt, bunching tightly in the fabric. It's the only thing anchoring you, the mischievous little inflection in his tone yet another spark that threatens to kindle a roaring inferno of desire within you.

When he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are the fire that finally sets you alight, blazing red embers that simmer with need. You feel warm, almost deliriously so, as the heat that had been pooling low in your stomach begins to ebb throughout the rest of your body.

“Oh,” he drawls, grinning through his fangs. “You've no idea, darling.”

You match his smirk, earning first a quiet gasp and then a satisfied sigh when you surge forward to kiss him once more. The grip he has on you tightens, fingertips digging into the plush part of your thighs as his hand slips beneath your shirt.

“Should I be concerned?” you tease.

“It’s nothing quite that scandalous, I'm afraid,” he remarks with a click of his tongue, breath almost warm as it fans across your lips.

Head cocked to the side, you sit back on your calves and study his face. He's been acting strange, but you can find nothing in his expression that might explain his behavior.

Astarion seems to sense your unanswered question when he says, “What? I'm quite serious, darling.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes incredulously.

“Then what do you call all of this?”

Astarion's lips are cool as he presses them against the column of your throat, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the feeling of your blood pulsing just beneath the surface. He groans quietly, and you feel the way the noise rumbles in his throat.

“Consider it a thought experiment.”

You aren't quite certain what he means by that, but when both of his hands settle firmly on the curve of your waist and he lifts his head to rest his brow against yours, your mind is immediately swept clear of all coherent thought.

Bergamot and rosemary ensnare your senses, and your eyes flutter closed. Here in his arms, you are safe. Home.

“I think I'm ready to try again,” Astarion says after a moment, pulling you close. “Just you. Just us.”

You remember the drow twins. Astarion had seemed so eager then, too, but it had all been too much, too soon. Later that same evening, he had buried his face into the crook of your arm to conceal his disappointment, and you had soothed him with a gentle hand through his hair, reassuring him that everything was fine.

That had been the last time either of you had been intimate with each other. You knew what he had needed was time, and you had more than enough to spare.

His body is responsive enough, that much you can concede. You can feel it in the way he tenses beneath you, and the hardening ridge of his cock beneath his trousers.

And yet…

You take his face in your hands, thumbs resting on the apples of his cheeks. Tipping his chin upwards, you search his eyes, but he does not balk under your scrutiny. You find them clear and bright. Present. The flicker of lamplight catches the myriad shades of red, reflecting brilliantly as an affectionate smile slowly spreads across his face. He lays a single hand over one of yours, squeezing gently.

“Okay,” you breathe, pressing a tender kiss to his brow. “Okay.”

The words have only just left your mouth before Astarion’s hand is on your back, supporting your weight as he flips the both of you over and eases you back onto the mattress beneath him. An errant wave of your hand extinguishes the lantern beside the bed, leaving the pair of you swathed in silvery moonlight.

In his haste to remove his shirt, Astarion gets caught somewhere in the tangle of his sleeves, and you giggle as he tosses it away with a huff of embarrassment.

You anticipate some sort of sarcastic quip from him, but his mouth is too busy lavishing you with open-mouthed kisses, anywhere and everywhere your skin is exposed to him. His hands, too, are ever-eager, bracingly cold against your bare stomach as he hikes your borrowed shirt up and over your shoulders. 

You sit up just enough for him to remove it, tossed aside as haphazardly as his own. The moment his hands are free, he resumes his exploration of your body, fingers mapping out every inch of you as they glide over your torso and the expanse of your thighs. Every time he reaches somewhere particularly sensitive, you feel him grin against you, mentally cataloging the information for future use. Every soft sigh, every wanton moan, all of them are music to his ears, a symphony for him alone.

“Stunning,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, drawing a low moan from your lips as he palms your bare breast. “You are simply… gods. ”

Astarion pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the taut bud between them. You whimper and writhe beneath him, breaths shallow as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your hands fumble for purchase in his hair, fingers threading through his soft curls and dragging his face close enough to kiss him again.

He captures every wanton noise you make for him as he kneads and teases your breasts, enjoying the ease with which a single swipe of his thumb stiffens your nipples into pert little peaks.

“Astarion…” you whine, high-pitched and needy. You meet his eyes again, vision hazy through half-closed lids. “I…”

“Shh,” he hushes you, coaxing your thighs open with the knee he slides between your legs. “I know. Patience, love.”

Astarion rewards you with the hand that trails over your stomach, purposely featherlight as he builds the anticipation growing within your core. You know what he means to do, and the thought alone has your heart hammering wildly.

You help him kick off your underwear after he tugs them down your thighs, exposing your aching center. You are slick with desire for him, quite certain you might just unravel completely the instant he touches you.

His fingertips dance over the inside of your thigh, trailing up, up, up. You throw your arms around his neck, breath caught in your throat.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, yes…”

Your body sings in ecstasy as Astarion's fingers drag a torturously slow path along your center, gathering the arousal that's pooled between your slick folds. The sensation is enough that your back bows off the mattress at the same time you dig your nails into his shoulders, throat raw as you cry out for him.

Astarion watches you with all the reverence of a devout worshiper, transfixed by the way you respond so beautifully to his touch.

“Is this what you wanted, sweet girl?” he asks, tracing his fingers in lazy circles around your oversensitive clit. Your hips buck against him of their own accord, pushing you even further into the open palm of his hand.

“Yes,” you say again, the only word your addled mind can grasp. “Yes, that feels – ohhhh… ”

Your voice breaks into a choked sob when Astarion presses two fingers against your entrance, slowly working you open as they slide inside your tight, wet heat. Your walls flutter around him, pulsing as he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a slow, delicious pace.

“Astarion, please…” you whimper, “make me come.”

Astarion uses his free hand to sweep an errant lock of hair from your face, tucking it affectionately behind your ear. His fingers linger on your face, tenderly tipping your chin up before he captures your lips in a brief yet passionate kiss.

“I will, my love,” he promises. “All in good time.” His expression shifts, not quite stern, but his face loses some of its softness when he asks, “Do you want my fingers or my cock?”

Astarion's face fits so nicely in your hands as you reach up to cradle it in your palms, and he has nowhere to look but into your eyes, a tempest of lust, love, and longing.

“Your cock,” you tell him. “I want to come on your cock.”

Something akin to pride flits across his face, a smile of pure satisfaction curling the edges of his mouth as Astarion reaches to unlace his trousers. They disappear with his underwear over the edge of the bed, his cock springing free as a relieved sigh slips past his lips.

“Thank the gods,” he groans, sliding a hand through his hair to tame his unkempt curls and sweep them back. “I can be patient when the need arises, but even I have my limits.”

You laugh and part your legs wide to accommodate him as he settles between them, one hand working his cock as he readies himself for you.

Even in the dim light, his eyes seem to glimmer like inset gems, his gaze trained on your face as he takes in the sight of you beneath him.

Astarion splays a hand on your waist to steady himself, guiding his cock between your legs. He slicks himself with your arousal, rocking his hips against you in slow, rhythmic motions.

He isn't even inside you yet, but he already has you whimpering, the friction igniting every nerve ending in your body.

Your eyes trail down the length of your stomach, unable to keep yourself from staring as he thrusts lazily against you. The blunt head of his cock grinds against your clit, sending wave after wave of arousal pulsing through you.

“Eyes on me, darling,” Astarion says.

You obey without thinking. By the time your gaze finds his, your face is flushed, mouth open as your breaths come in ragged little pants.

An easy smile spreads over his face, and the hand on your waist moves to gently cup your cheek.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

There is nothing but adoration in his voice, and you laugh softly when you tell him, “Yes, plenty of times. But never like this.”

“You are,” he reiterates, smoothing the pad of his thumb over your skin.

“Especially like this. My beautiful girl.”

Your cheeks burn, but Astarion doesn't give you enough time to feel self-conscious for very long before he begins to push inside you, slowly burying himself inside your waiting warmth with a few shallow thrusts. Your body molds to his completely, and it's as if the two of you were made for one another.

He feels so good inside you – so perfect, so complete. He can feel it too, almost lost within the mounting pleasure that knits his brows together and compels his mouth to fall slack.

Astarion doesn't move at first, content enough to simply be , eyes crinkling with the smile on his face as you take his hands in your own, interlacing your fingers.

There are no words to convey his thoughts properly, so he chooses instead to show you the only way he can. He pulls almost completely out of you, agonizingly slow as he drags his cock along your walls. 

When you give him what he wants, a low, breathy moan, he rolls his hips forward again, pushing himself deep inside. He sets a slow, purposeful pace, bottoming out with every languid thrust as your hips meet flush. It's amazing how even like this, he can build the tension inside you, every one of his movements perfectly calculated to bring you both incredible pleasure.

You can tell he's holding back, that he wants to lose himself in you completely. But you know that it's about so much more. It's about listening to the persistent beating of your heart, the way your hands feel as he holds them between your bodies and gazes into your eyes.

It’s about finally reclaiming the pieces of himself he once thought lost for good, a thousand nameless faces that did nothing but take and take and take until there was nothing left for him to give.

And you – you asked for nothing, letting him set whatever boundaries he needed.

It would be impossible for him to do anything but love you. And he does. More than anything, he adores you.

You use your grip on his hands to tug him closer to you, arms slipping around his back as he presses his chest to yours. Astarion’s thrusts gradually become less controlled, hips rolling into you with growing need as he savors the feel of you beneath him – so warm, so alive, so…

“Mine,” he affirms, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Mine, mine, mine.”

His arms bracket either side of your head, one hand cradling the base of your skull as he holds you close, like so much flotsam set adrift in the roiling ocean.

“Yes, Astarion,” you tell him. “Always, always…”

Astarion moves to adjust his position between your legs, angling himself just so that every snap of his hips thrusts his cock against that sensitive spot inside you. You cry out his name, little crescent moons adorning his back everywhere you've dug your fingers into his skin.

“I – I’m going to – Astarion –”

“Yes, my love,” he groans into your ear, lifting his head just enough to see the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he thrusts himself inside you. “Come for me, let me feel you come undone.”

His hand is between your thighs once more, expertly circling your clit with the pad of his index finger. Your toes curl into the mattress, pupils blown as you find yourself swept up in the intensity of his crimson eyes.

One, two, three thrusts more is all it takes before you shatter, back arched as you cry out for him. Your walls pulse around his cock as you tumble headfirst into euphoria, clinging to him desperately as he fucks you through it, elevating the intensity of your orgasm.

Only then does Astarion let himself go, grunting as he pistons into you, unable to deny himself this simple pleasure any longer. You feel the moment he reaches his own peak, spilling himself inside you with a stuttering groan as he clumsily kisses you over and over again.

He doesn't pull out immediately, selfishly indulging in your body’s warmth. You are a tangle of limbs as he finally falls to the mattress beside you, immediately pulling your body back against him with the arm he wraps firmly around you. 

Astarion gazes up at you, mouthing your name so softly, as if he's afraid it might break under the weight of his devotion.

“I love you.”

He says it again and again, his heart aching as you gather him in your arms and press a kiss against his mouth. 

“I love you too,” you murmur against his lips, sighing as you feel the wide grin that spreads over his face. 

You drift off with his head pillowed on your chest, comforted by the drumming of your heart and the hand you entangle with his own. By the time you wake, he's still nestled up against you, blissfully unaware of how beautiful he is as he slumbers peacefully in your embrace.

You smile fondly at him, content to let him rest for as long as he likes. Truth be told, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 6 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You're home for the holidays and despite the hustle and bustle of family gatherings, your mind is stuck on your two hot neighbours just next door. And when an opportunity for some time alone with them presents itself, how could you refuse?

-OR-

Agatha and Rio tease you relentlessly at a New Years party and you can't wait until its finished to fuck them so you sneak away

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, switch Agatha, switch Rio, Switch reader, threesome (duh), Mommy/Daddy titles, strap-ons, vibrators, fingering, oral, marking, reader has a vibrator used on them in front of other people, alcohol consumption, scissoring, light choking, maybe more? who knows, it's so long I've definitely missed something

Words: 6.4k

A/N: We're BACK baby. This was supposed to be released at the start of Jan to be seasonal but alas it is being released now. This is just shameless smut tbh

AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Masterlist

The holidays at home always blur together: long afternoons curled up on the couch, listening to old family stories, plates of food that never seem to end, and the comforting hum of familiar voices filling every corner and yet this year feels different.

The quiet warmth of home should be grounding, but instead, it leaves an ache in the pit of your stomach. Agatha and Rio are just next door. So close that if you stepped outside, you could probably hear their laughter through an open window. But proximity doesn’t mean access, and knowing they’re near without being able to touch them��to taste them—has your nerves fraying with every passing hour.

You try to focus on the holiday routine, but your mind keeps drifting, fingers itching to grab your phone. It starts with subtle messages: a teasing remark, a playful emoji, a simple ‘wish you I could be with you’. But restraint crumbles fast, and soon, the texts turn flirty.

And then—

MILFs Anonymous

Rio: You should really learn to close your curtains, cariño. You never know who’s watching ;)

Rio: *click to open image*

The moment you open it, your breath catches.

Agatha is naked in front of the window, bent over just enough to make your pulse quicken, her back arched, ass pressing into Rio’s hips. Rio’s hand grips her firmly, fingers digging into soft skin, and there’s a faint red tint blooming across Agatha’s ass—a clear sign of exactly what they’d been doing before taking this picture.

Your brain shortcircuits.

Because even though you can’t see it, you know the look on Rio’s face, the way she holds Agatha steady, the slight tilt of her hips. You’ve felt it before—been pinned beneath that same unrelenting grip, left breathless by the sharp sting of Agatha’s nails in your skin, Rio’s voice low and taunting as she urges you to take what you're given.

You swallow hard, your mind replaying flashes of memories—Agatha's gasping moans, the way Rio growled in satisfaction as she pushed deeper, the sting of Agatha’s teeth on your shoulder as she struggled to keep quiet. The way they ruined you. The way you begged them to.

But it wasn’t just the two of them in the picture. Through the window, reflected in the glass, you can see yourself wrapped in only a towel, fresh from the shower, completely unaware of what was unfolding right next door.

Oh shit. They had been fucking each other while watching you.

A fresh wave of heat rushes through you. They knew you’d see this and they knew exactly how your thoughts would spiral.

—

For the rest of the day, no matter how many people surround you, no matter how desperately you try to push the image from your mind, you can’t stop feeling the heat coiling low in your stomach, a slow, aching pulse between your thighs that refuses to fade. Every time you slip away for even a moment, closing yourself in the bathroom or lingering too long in the pantry, you try to find any sort of relief—pressing your thighs together, letting your fingers ghost over the damp heat through your underwear—but it’s never enough. The house is too busy, the walls too thin, and the risk too high.

And then it gets worse.

When you step outside that afternoon, something entirely unexpected greets you.

At first, it doesn’t make sense—a massive tent pole structure stretching across your backyard, spilling into Agatha and Rio’s. Men move around, securing ropes and hammering stakes into the ground. You frown, stepping closer to where your father stands, watching the setup unfold.

“What’s going on?” you ask, confusion evident in your voice.

Your dad turns to you with a wide, easy smile, as if the sight of an entire-ass event tent appearing in your backyard is completely normal. “Oh, the fencing between the yards was getting replaced, right? So we thought, why not take advantage of the space? We’re throwing a New Year’s Eve party with Agatha and Rio. A big one—lots of people—should be a good way for them to meet the neighbours a bit better.”

Your stomach flips. “A joint party?”

“Yep!” He seems blissfully unaware of the way you bit your lip; you’re a flirty drunk and there is no way you’ll be able to help yourself even with a house full of guests. “Just made sense, really. They only moved in a couple weeks before you went back to college so they’re still kind of new here, and it’s a great excuse for everyone to get together.”

As if summoned by your rising anxiety, your mother enters the conversation, casually slipping her phone from her pocket. “Oh, that reminds me—we have a group chat for the planning. You should be in it, too.”

Before you can protest, your phone buzzes with a new notification:

Mom added you to New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Looking at who was in the chat, you see it’s just your parents, Agatha, Rio, and now you.

You stare at your screen, the weight of the situation settling into your bones. There’s no escaping them at this party. They’ll be there, looking devastating, flirting in ways no one else will recognise, taunting you. And worse—you’ll have to pretend it doesn’t matter.

The moment you’re alone, you do the only thing that makes sense.

MILFs Anonymous.

~15:48

You: You two didn’t think to tell me about this party???

~15:51

Agatha: We thought you already knew, darling.

~16:02

Rio: Can’t wait to see your outfit ;)

You let out a groan, flopping onto your bed, heart hammering against your ribs.

—

The next couple of days blur into a frenzy of preparation. The towering pole tent in the backyard transforms into something breathtaking—a canopy of warm string lights crisscrossing above, casting a golden glow over the dance floor, lounge areas, and bar stations. Tables are filled with food and drinks; fire pits crackle steadily, promising warmth against the winter chill.

Your parents, ever the enthusiastic hosts, are in full planning mode. Your mom bombards the group chat with a steady stream of last-minute tasks, while your dad orchestrates the outdoor setup like a seasoned general.

"Can someone make sure the drinks are properly chilled?""Surfaces still need to be wiped down!""We need more ice—any volunteers?"

Between messages, you’re swept into the chaos, lugging bottles of wine to the bar, adjusting decorations, untangling fairy lights. But no matter how hectic things get, Agatha and Rio always seem to find a moment to steal you away.

It starts small.

As you carry a tray of glasses into their kitchen, Rio appears behind you, pressing in close, her breath warm against your ear.

"Mmm, darling, seeing you follow orders is doing things to me." Her fingers trail down your arm, barely touching, but enough to send a shiver racing down your spine. Before you can react, she’s gone; back to chatting with your mom like nothing happened.

Then there’s Agatha. You’re kneeling down, adjusting a set of flickering LED candles on a coffee table, when she approaches. She tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your gaze to hers.

"Careful, sweetheart." She smirks as her thumb brushes over your lower lip. "If you stay on your knees too long, I’m going to start getting ideas."

Heat floods your body, your pulse hammering wildly. They’re relentless, playing a game you have no hope of winning. And then—because the universe isn’t done with you yet—your mom unknowingly delivers the final blow.

New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Mom: Hey! Would it be okay if Y/N stayed with you guys tonight? Aunt Carol and family are taking up all our rooms.

You don’t even think about how your mom’s making you give up your room without asking; you’re too busy staring at your phone, heart pounding.

You’re going to be staying with them again.

Excitement flutters in your chest, hot and electric. After days of teasing glances, fleeting touches, and whispered words meant to unravel you, you’re finally going to have them to yourself. No stolen moments. No interruptions. Just you, Agatha, and Rio.

But that thrill is laced with something deeper. Because if they’ve been so relentless with their flirting, not knowing when they’d next properly be with you, what the hell is going to happen now they know they get to have you all to themselves?

You swallow hard, fingers gripping your phone tighter as their responses roll in.

New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Rio: No worries :)

Agatha: Don’t worry, we will take good care of them, just like we always do.

You choke on nothing.

Your mom, blissfully oblivious, just reacts with a thumbs-up emoji and moves on with planning. Meanwhile, you sit there, phone still in your hands, trying to process the fact that you’ve just been thrown straight into the lion’s den—and you’re not coming out unfucked unscathed.

—

You stand before your mirror, hands smoothing down the fabric of your costume.

It’s bolder than anything you’d normally wear. The cut, the way it frames your body, the teasing flashes of skin—you look hot.

After one last steadying breath, you step out of your room.

The party is already in full swing by the time you make your way downstairs. Your house, the backyards, and Agatha and Rio’s house are all packed, laughter and music spilling from every direction. Guests roam freely between the connected spaces, glasses in hand, conversations buzzing with holiday cheer. Familiar faces from high school mix with family, friends, and neighbours, the crowd a blur of movement and warmth.

But you only have eyes for them.

Rio and Agatha stand near the bar, unmistakable even from across the yard. They’re dressed as pirates and they look absolutely devastating.

Agatha’s coat fits her like a dream—dark, regal, and cinched at the waist in a way that accentuates every curve. Gold buttons gleam under the dim lights, the ruffled blouse beneath teasing glimpses of skin. Her long hair tumbles in wild waves over her shoulders, and the sharp smirk she wears makes her look utterly untouchable.

Then there’s Rio. Her deep red tunic borders on scandalous, left open just enough to reveal her cleavage. Her pants hug her hips perfectly and it makes your mouth run dry. The hat, the sharp gaze, the effortless dominance in every movement—it’s almost unfair.

—

The night blurs into a haze of warmth and music, but you barely see them. They’re the perfect hosts, moving through the party with easy charm, laughing, drinking, and acting like they aren’t slowly breaking you.

Every time they pass, they’re touching you in some way.

A lingering hand at the small of your back. Fingers skimming your wrist. A squeeze at your hip. Soft whispers against your ear, too low for anyone else to hear.

It’s torture. Slow, deliberate, intoxicating torture.

And then—

“Long time no see.”

You turn, blinking as a tall guy in a sharp tux grins at you, tilting his martini glass in greeting. You recognise him vaguely—someone from high school, back for the holidays like everyone else.

“You’re looking good,” he says, eyes dragging down your outfit before reaching out, fingers grazing the fabric. “I really like the costume.”

You arch a brow, looking him up and down. “And you’re dressed as...”

He smirks, lifting his glass again. “Bond. James Bond.”

Seriously? Could he not be bothered to put in any effort?

The conversation shifts into polite small talk—he’s studying business now, home for the break, blah blah blah. It’s easy, meaningless chatter. Until he leans in closer, voice dropping.

“You know,” he muses, “007 always gets the hottie in the end.”

You open your mouth, not entirely sure whether to laugh or shut him down.

Suddenly you’re not alone. Rio and Agatha flank you, cutting off all space and oxygen.

Agatha moves first, wrapping an arm around your waist, her palm settling firmly over your ass, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

At the same time, Rio’s fingers find the back of your neck, her thumb dragging over the sensitive skin there.

The shift is instant.

Mr. Uninventive hesitates, eyes darting between the two of them. “Uh—”

“We need to steal them for a moment,” Rio interrupts smoothly, leaving no room for argument.

“Party business,” Agatha adds, amusement curling at the edges of her words.

Before you can even process what’s happening, they’re guiding you away. Through the house, up the stairs, and into their bedroom.

The door slams shut behind you.

Agatha and Rio move in tandem, running their palms over your body, mapping every inch with a reverence that makes your head spin. Lips follow—featherlight kisses pressed to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Every touch, every whispered breath, is a deliberate act of worship.

“Look at you,” Rio breathes against your skin, voice thick with hunger. Her fingers trace the curve of your waist, slipping just under the fabric of your costume. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you, baby?”

Agatha hums in agreement, her mouth warm against the shell of your ear. “You look so fucking good like this,” she murmurs.

Their words make your skin prickle, heat pooling low in your stomach. You can barely breathe with how they’re touching you, how they’re speaking to you. But just as quickly as they praise, their hands slow and then stop entirely.

“Then again,” Agatha continues, her tone turning sharper, her fingers digging into your hips, “maybe we shouldn’t be too generous with our compliments.”

You blink up at her, dizzy with need, but Rio’s grip on your chin forces your gaze toward her instead. The playful glint in her eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

“You really thought we wouldn’t notice?” She asks, tilting your head back, forcing you to hold her gaze. “Letting everyone at this party get an eyeful of you? Letting that prick downstairs get close enough to touch you?”

Your stomach twists. “I wasn’t—”

Agatha tuts, cutting you off. “Don’t even try, sweetheart.” Her grip tightens, her breath hot against your cheek. “You were practically giggling at him.”

“I was being friendly,” you argue weakly. “Just being a good host—”

“You should know who you belong to by now,” Rio interrupts, voice a low growl, her lips brushing yours. “The only people you need to be good for are us.”

Before you can stammer out a response, Agatha takes your hand in hers, guiding it lower and lower until your palm is pressed between her legs. Your breath catches, eyes going wide when you feel it.

Hard, thick, and waiting.

The heavy coat she’s wearing must have concealed it from view

Your lips part, a soft, startled noise escaping before Rio kisses it away. Then Agatha presses forward just enough to make sure you feel her, making sure you understand.

“Still want to pretend?” She teases dangerously. “Or are you ready to be good now?”

Rio doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Her fingers are suddenly slipping past the waistband of your underwear, gliding through your slick heat with ease. The first stroke has you jolting, the second has you gasping, and by the third, you’re already shaking in their hold.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your lips, dragging her fingers through your wetness before circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. “You’re so worked up. Is this all for us or do you want us to go fetch your friend from downstairs?”

You whine at her words. “No. Please, no, I want you. I only ever want you.”

Agatha hums her approval, her hands busy with your chest, kneading, pinching, and rolling your nipples between her fingers in a way that has you keening. Her mouth isn’t far behind, her lips and tongue lavishing attention along your neck and collarbone, teeth scraping just enough to make you shudder.

“You look so pretty like this,” she muses, flicking her tongue over a sensitive spot, smiling when she feels your breath hitch. “So desperate and needy. And you have the nerve to pretend you weren’t begging for us to do this?”

Rio chuckles, dragging her fingers lower before plunging two inside you without warning. The sudden stretch knocks the air from your lungs, your knees buckling as she fucks into you with deep, practiced strokes. Her free hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as your body melts between them, thighs shaking, pleasure mounting too quickly to contain.

“That’s it, baby,” she purrs, curling her fingers just right, rubbing against your g-spot in a way that has you seeing stars.

You don’t stand a chance. Between Agatha’s lips on your skin, her hands teasing and playing with your chest, and the relentless motion of Rio’s fingers, you unravel in their arms, your orgasm hitting you in waves that leave you breathless. You barely register Agatha’s arm wrapping around your waist, holding you upright as your body trembles, Rio murmuring soft praises as she strokes you through the aftershocks.

By the time you finally come down, you’re a mess—practically boneless from the pleasure they’ve wrung from you. You hadn’t even noticed how thoroughly they’d been marking you until you glance at the mirror across the room and spot angry red hickies blooming all over your neck—too dark to be ignored, too obvious to be passed off as anything else.

Rio just smirks. “You’ll figure something out,” she says, unbothered.

Then something smooth and cool is slid down the front of your underwear and then pushed inside you. It slips in without resistance; you’re not surprised by this with how hard you just came, but you still jolt at the sensation, looking down in alarm, but Agatha hushes you with a soothing stroke down your spine.

“Be a good pet,” she whispers. “And don’t take it out.”

Your stomach twists in anticipation at what they’re going to do.

Agatha opens the door, but before you can protest, Rio pats your ass and sends you on your way.

You try to focus, try to mingle, but it’s impossible. Your legs are unsteady as you make your way back down the stairs, each step a struggle as the first soft buzz hums to life between your thighs.

You bite your lip hard, fingers gripping your drink tighter than necessary, heat spreading across your face.

It’s going to be a long night.

—

Desperation eventually wins out.

The drinks, the teasing, the relentless vibrations—it’s all too much.

You don’t even think before your fingers fly over your phone screen, firing off a text to MILFs Anonymous in sheer drunken need.

You: I need you, Mommy.

The moment it sends, regret lances through you. Too much? Too needy? Too obvious?

But before you can spiral, your phone buzzes.

Agatha: We’re in our living room, baby.

You practically start sprinting to them. 

—

When you arrive, a group of guests has already settled in for a game of charades.

Rio and Agatha are perched on the couch, the picture of effortless elegance, drinks in hand, looking entirely untouched by the chaos they’ve unleashed inside you.

“Come join us, Y/N!” someone calls.

You hesitate. There are no seats left, not even an armrest to perch on.

Then Agatha smirks, tilting her head in invitation. “Oh, come here,” she says, patting her thigh. “We don’t mind squeezing in a bit.”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your body starts moving before your mind can protest, drawn like a moth to flame. The moment you lower yourself into Agatha’s lap, you feel the firm press of her strap beneath you.

Your thighs clench. A small, involuntary whimper slipping past your lips, barely audible over the chatter—except to them. The vibrations in your underwear kick up just slightly.

It’s a warning.

You shift instinctively, trying to relieve the ache, trying to grind just enough, but Agatha’s hands settle on your hips, holding you still.

“Behave,” she whispers.

The game goes on, but you are utterly useless—lost in your arousal, eyes darting desperately between them, silently begging for mercy.

And then, just as your body reaches a breaking point, they stand. Agatha lifts you from her lap, setting you onto the couch as if you weigh nothing. Rio leans in close—close enough for only you to hear.

“You should be more careful when texting,” she whispers, smirking against your ear. “Check which group chat you click on next time.”

Your blood freezes.

They walk away, leaving you scrambling to open your phone. Your stomach drops. Your message—the Mommy message—wasn’t sent to MILFs Anonymous.

It was sent to the party planning chat.

With your parents in it.

Crap.

The vibrations surge suddenly to a dizzying intensity, tearing you violently back into the moment. You slap a hand over your mouth, barely suppressing a gasp, legs clamping shut as pleasure floods through you.

Agatha and Rio glance at you from across the room, watching as you struggle.

Your fingers tighten around your phone, mind racing, body burning.

That text is going to be impossible to explain to your parents.

But right now? Right now, all you can do is bite your lip and try and survive until you’re alone with Agatha and Rio again.

—

As the party inches closer to midnight, the energy shifts—laughter growing louder, bodies pressing together as people eagerly anticipate the countdown. The air is thick with warmth, alcohol, and the unspoken anticipation of the night’s inevitable climax.

Unfortunately for you, the guy from earlier sidles up beside you, martini glass still in hand.

“Ah, there you are.”

You sigh, schooling your expression as you glance up at him. He’s grinning, slightly flushed from alcohol, his tux still crisp despite the hours of partying.

“Where’d you run off to?” he asks, taking another slow sip of his drink. “I was hoping we’d get a little more time together.”

“Been busy,” you reply, voice flat.

He chuckles like you’ve made a joke, leaning in a little too close, eyes dipping to your lips. "Y’know, it’s bad luck to not have someone to kiss at midnight. Wouldn’t want to start the new year off on the wrong foot, would you?" His tone is smooth and practiced, and though his words drip with charm, they don’t land the way he intends.

You open your mouth to shut him down, but shut it again when you hear a deep gasp from behind you.

“Oh no,” Rio drawls dramatically. “Oops.”

You barely have time to process before Rio’s drink drenches the front of his pristine tuxedo. There’s a second of pure silence. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a drunken party guest howls with laughter.

“Dude!” they wheeze, pointing at the massive stain spreading down his pants. “You look like you pissed yourself!”

Why on Earth they find it so funny, you’ll never know, but it does seem to make wannabe James Bond forget about flirting with you.

He goes stiff, face burning as he looks down at the damage. His jaw works, like he’s about to lash out for being humiliated. Instead, he mutters something under his breath, pushes past the crowd, and disappears from sight.

Rio, standing beside you, smiles sweetly, swirling the remnants of her drink round the glass. “Oops,” she says again, voice filled with mock innocence.

At that moment, the countdown begins.

“Ten!”

Agatha shifts closer.

“Nine!”

Rio sets her empty glass down, her gaze flickering to you.

“Eight!”

You feel the first brush of Agatha’s fingers along your cheek.

“Seven… six…”

Rio’s hand slides down your back, resting just above your waist.

“Five… four…”

Agatha tilts your chin up.

“Three…”

Your breath catches.

“Two…”

Your pulse pounds.

“One!”

Then, at the stroke of midnight, their lips are on you.

Agatha kisses you first, slow and languid, her tongue teasing at your lower lip before slipping into your mouth. It’s deep and possessive, and if anyone notices your neighbour kissing someone who is not her wife, they’re too caught up in their own celebrations to care.

Before you can fully process it, she pulls away, only for Rio to take her place.

Where Agatha was slow, Rio is devastating—teeth nipping at your lip, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist like she’s starving for you.

By the time she pulls back, you’re breathless, dazed, and aching.

—

The party blurs after that. There’s more drinking, more dancing, more laughter, but the tension lingers.

They don’t let you stray too far, always keeping you within reach, eyes dark with promise.

Eventually, the party begins to die down, and guests filter out toward your parents’ house to continue the fun on a smaller scale. You move to follow, but before you can take a step, a firm hand closes around your wrist.

It’s Agatha. Her grip is light, but her eyes are anything but. “Stay.”

She turns, calling out to the last stragglers near the door. “We’re gonna lock up—probably head to bed. Unfortunately, that means Y/N here is calling it a night too.”

You know she’s lying and from the way Rio is standing behind you, so close you can feel her breath against your neck, you know exactly why.

The door clicks shut.

The lock turns.

And then?

They pounce.

Rio is on you first, shoving you back against the nearest wall, her mouth claiming yours with a hunger that makes your knees buckle. It’s all tongue and teeth, no patience, no teasing—just raw need.

Agatha isn’t far behind. She presses up against your side, hands already tugging at your costume, lips brushing against your ear as she snarls, “I thought they’d never leave.”

You don’t get a chance to answer.

Rio’s hands are already at your waist, yanking at the fabric, desperate to get it off. “Fuck,” she mutters, cursing the layers, fingers fumbling.

Agatha’s laugh is low and wicked as she slides a hand between your legs, pressing against the soaked fabric of your underwear.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos. “You’re soaked.”

Heat floods your face, but you don’t get a second to feel embarrassed—because in the next breath, Rio growls in frustration and just rips your costume open.

“Rio!” you gasp, but she doesn’t care.

“Shut up,” she mutters, eyes dark with want. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

She starts stripping you, hands rough and insistent. She doesn’t waste time, doesn’t go slow, just takes—pulling away fabric, tossing aside layers—until you’re left in nothing but your thoroughly wrecked underwear.

While Rio starts to undress herself, Agatha’s hands trail down your arms before gripping your wrists and pinning them against the wall.

“Look at you,” she muses, eyes dragging over your body like she’s memorising every inch. “You really let yourself get this messy at a party?”

Before you can snap back, your gaze flicks to Rio and the very, very obvious damp patch on her lacey black underwear.

Heat surges through you, and despite your situation, a smirk tugs at your lips. “I’m the messy one?” You tease, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like someone else has a problem too.”

Rio follows your gaze—then scoffs, shaking her head with a laugh. “Keep talking,” she warns, shoving her thumbs beneath the waistband of her underwear. “See what happens.”

Now Agatha starts stripping, too.

And fuck.

Your mouth goes dry as the last of their clothes hit the floor, leaving you gaping at her—completely bare, except for the harness strapped tightly around her hips, the deep purple toy attached firmly at the centre.

It makes your breath catch.

The sight of her so commanding and unapologetic aroused has your knees weak.

Rio spots your reaction immediately. Smirking, she slowly drops to her knees in front of you, dragging her palms down your trembling thighs.

"You're shaking, cariño," she murmurs, pressing a teasing kiss against your hipbone. "Been wound up all night, have you?"

Her fingers dip beneath the waistband of your soaked underwear. With a slow, deliberate drag, she peels the ruined fabric down your legs, letting it drop to the floor. And then she spots the vibrator still tucked between your slick thighs.

Her smirk widens.

"Look at this," she purrs, brushing her fingers against the damp, buzzing device. "You've been so good, keeping this in for us."

“Not like I had a chance to take it out. You guys have had me on a tight leash since midnight,” you scoff.

“A leash, you say? Now that’s a good idea,” Agatha hums from behind you, warm hands sliding up your arms before settling at your waist. She pulls you flush against her chest, letting you feel every inch of the hard length pressing against your lower back.

Rio hooks a finger around the toy and pulls it free with a wet, obscene little sound that makes your entire body jolt. Then, without breaking eye contact, she brings it to her lips.

Her tongue flicks over it first, tasting the evidence of your arousal. She hums, lashes fluttering as she takes the toy fully into her mouth, sucking it clean with slow, deliberate moans that send heat rushing straight to your core.

Your fingers dig into Agatha’s arms, a whimper slipping past your lips.

“You taste so fucking good,” Rio purrs, setting it aside before leaning in, kissing and biting her way up your inner thigh.

Agatha moves at the same time, her hands skimming up your ribs before one closes firmly around your throat. She tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck, and sinks her teeth in.

The sharp pleasure-pain rips a gasp from you.

"Such a needy thing," Agatha husks against your skin, sucking another bruise into place. “We only fucked you a few hours ago and yet you’re still dripping for us.”

Rio groans in agreement, her breath hot against your thigh. Without warning, she grabs the back of your knee, hooks your leg over her shoulder, and finally presses her mouth to your pussy.

Rio’s tongue works you open with devastating precision; she is utterly relentless. Every flick and swirl sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body, making your thighs tremble around her head. The grip Agatha has around your waist tightens, holding you up as you lose yourself to the sensation, your hands grasping at anything they can touch.

You’re so close and Rio feels it. She moans against you, the vibration sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. The tension snaps all at once, a ragged cry escaping your lips as an orgasm crashes through you, stealing the air from your lungs. Your body shudders, shaking in Agatha’s steady arms as Rio eases you through it, licking up every last drop, prolonging the high until you can barely stand.

Only when your body sags completely against Agatha does Rio finally pull away, her lips slick and eyes hooded with satisfaction. But you barely get a moment to recollect yourself before Agatha is moving you both again.

She manhandles you effortlessly, flipping you over the arm of the couch with zero warning. She grips your hips and thrusts inside you in a single, smooth motion.

“Fuck—!” You arch against the cushions; the stretch is almost overwhelming, but you push back against her, wordlessly begging for more. And she gives it to you, setting a brutal pace that has your nails clawing at the couch.

There’s no hesitation and no patience left. Agatha grip is firm, fingers digging into your flesh like she owns you. The heavy press of her body against your back, the way the harness hits deep with every roll of her hips—it’s overwhelming, all-consuming, and exactly what you need.

It’s only then that you register the low, shuddering groans Agatha is making, the kind that makes it feel like your body is alive with electricity. You realise she must have a grinding pad in the harness. Every thrust she gives you is giving her something in return, dragging that firm pressure right over her clit.

"Oh, fuck—so tight around me, baby. You like being used like this?" Agatha’s voice is rough and strained, and it only makes you clench tighter around her.

But you still want more.

Your fingers scramble against the cushions before reaching back, finding a handful of soft, wild hair to yank.

Rio gasps, pleasure laced into the sharp pull, and follows, letting you drag her in front of you. Her pupils are blown, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You waste no time, your hands cupping the damp lace of her underwear, feeling the evidence of how much this night has affected her.

"You act all in control, but you’re just as desperate, aren’t you? Been getting off to this the whole time?" You moan, voice thick with pleasure, as Agatha pounds into you.

Rio lets out a breathless laugh, but it dissolves into a shaky whimper as you press a little firmer. "You’re such a little brat," she whispers, but the way she rocks her hips into your touch betrays her. "Gonna make it up to me? Use that pretty little mouth of yours?"

At that, you capture her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her smirk and groaning against her lips as Agatha slams into you even harder. Your hands roam, greedy and impatient, trailing over Rio’s stomach, slipping past the waistband of her delicate lace underwear. You moan into her mouth as you feel just how wet she is, a shuddering breath leaving her as your fingers slide through the mess you’ve made of her.

Agatha grips your hips tighter. “That’s it, sweetheart,” she growls, voice vibrating with pleasure. "Fuck her like you mean it, baby—make her fall apart for us."

You thrust two fingers inside Rio with ease, curling them just right, coaxing a gorgeous whimper from her lips. She braces herself against the couch, hips bucking into your hand, her breath hitching every time your thumb brushes over her clit. Her head tips back, exposing the perfect column of her throat, and you can’t resist—you latch onto her skin, kissing and biting your way down as she unravels in your hands.

Agatha doesn’t relent for a second; her pace is relentless, her moans growing heavier, and her body pressed so tightly against yours you feel everything.

The three of you move together, bodies lost in each other, the pleasure mounting higher and higher until finally, you all break at once.

Rio’s cry is the first to ring out, her body tensing, fingers tangling in your hair as she falls apart beneath your touch. Agatha is next, hips stuttering, a rough groan tumbling from her lips as she pushes deep one final time.

You shatter between them, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave, drowning in the heat of their bodies, the grip of their hands, the sound of their pleasure mixing with yours in the dark, breathless space of the living room.

—

The three of you barely make it up the stairs, hands and lips desperate, laughter mixing with breathless moans as you stumble into the bedroom. Agatha ditches the harness the second you reach the edge of the bed, tossing it aside before Rio pushes her down onto the mattress with an eager gleam in her eye. Straddling her wife, Rio hooks one of Agatha’s legs over her own, pressing their bodies together, the heat between them instantly electrifying

Agatha smirks up at her, hands tracing over Rio’s thighs before gripping her hips, guiding her down. The first slow grind of Rio’s core against her own pulls a shuddering gasp from them both, the wetness between their bodies making the movement slick and unbearably good.

You don’t hesitate to join, slotting yourself in behind Rio, one hand slipping between your own legs while the other moves to cup her breast. You drag your lips along the curve of her shoulder, sucking marks into her skin, letting your tongue flick behind her ear just to feel the way she shudders from it.

“Fuck, look at you two,” Agatha groans, voice thick with arousal as she meets Rio’s slow, intoxicating rhythm. “You’re both so fucking gorgeous.”

Rio whimpers, grinding down harder, her pleasure clear in the way her body trembles against you. You can feel the slickness coating your fingers as you fuck yourself, matching their pace, your own moans spilling against Rio’s flushed skin.

“C’mon, Daddy,” you emphasise her title, fingers twisting her nipple just enough to make her gasp. “Let me hear you.”

Rio’s head falls back against your shoulder, her breath ragged as Agatha grips her ass, pulling her down with each roll of her hips, making sure she feels every bit of her. The pace quickens, and the heat between you all mounts unbearably fast. You can feel it building; Rio’s legs begin to tremble, Agatha’s nails dig into her skin, and your own fingers speed up, chasing that blinding pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” Rio gasps, her body going rigid as her climax crashes over her. She grips your thigh, nails digging in as she rides it out, the sound of Agatha’s deep groan telling you she’s right there with her, lost in the overwhelming bliss. The sight of them both cumming together pushes you over the edge as well, pleasure searing through your veins as your own orgasm takes hold, your body tensing and then shuddering against Rio’s.

For a long moment, all that fills the room is the sound of panting as your bodies tremble in the aftermath. Then, as the bliss slowly fades into warmth, Agatha lets out a breathless chuckle, running a lazy hand up Rio’s side.

“Well,” she muses, voice still hoarse from pleasure, “that’s one hell of a way to start the new year.”

“Yeah, if this is any indication of how the rest of the year’s gonna go, I’d say we’re in for a good one.” Rio laughs, head still resting against your shoulder, and you can’t help but grin, pressing a soft kiss to her damp skin. 

You hum an agreement as the three of you collapse onto the mattress in a tangled, sated heap, bodies exhausted but hearts so full. Whatever the year held, one thing was certain—you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

-----

Soooooooooo how do we all feel about the return of Neighbourly Care?

Agatha and Rio are rich MILF neighbours now ig... sugar mommies for reader yay or nay?

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taglist: @aceday @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @sevikasleftarm25 @kiaralee25 @4theluvofsapphos @lez-zuha @jujuu23 @gaylorvader @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19 @masorciereviolette

[glitteringdust]

Lucanis/Spite pining for Rook

Could be at any part of their romance.

Or at 1 am when that 13th cup of coffee hits

Why did you leave?

Spite's questioning had still not ceased. Lucanis ignored the demon, staring at the slow, orbiting Fade rocks in the distance. Trying to clear his head was hard when a Demon wouldn't shut up about his mistake. He takes a sip of the coffee in his hands, surprised at how cold it had become. A trick of the Fade or had he lost track of time? He had already lost track of what number cup this was, the exhaustion from the day was slowly creeping in. He needed to be in better control.

Rook was right there. You had her.

The infatuation Spite had for Rook had started right away— she was a shiny new toy, something new to play with. Lucanis figured the demon would grow bored of her eventually, but Spite hung on to every one of Rook's words and demanded to speak to her constantly. His attention was on Rook whenever she was in the same room.

He could not blame him, honestly. Rook was delightful to be around, and becoming the best part of his day. She was just… good. Everything felt good when she was there. So when she started flirting with him, he could not help himself. She was so close he could smell that unique scent of her.

Cherries…cinnamon…

He was so close to tasting her, but stopped himself at Spite's remark. He could not do this to her, could not bring her close to him if there was even one chance of hurting her. He was an abomination, a danger.

So he pulled away. He left. Keeping her safe was of utmost priority.

Rook is not afraid of us.

"She should be, Spite." He mutters aloud.

He heads back inside the dining hall, needing to start another pot of coffee if he is going to evade sleep a little longer. As it brews, he finds his mind wandering back to Rook.

What would it have been like? Sweet and intriguing, like he thought? Or would she have been more bold? She was a force of nature given form, after all. His kisses would have been fervent, as he pinned her against the wall. Tucked away in the dimly lit pantry, he would have shown her just how much he thought of her.

Maybe she would have taken his hand, and led him back to her room across the way. They'd risk the chance of being seen but he would not have cared. He can picture it now, the way the light of the main hall would make her curls a captivating navy blue. He should have kissed her…

…

…

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but jolts awake just outside the hallway leading to Rook's room.

"Lucanis?"

She's dressed down into sleep clothes, hair slightly damp as if she'd just bathed. "Is everything alright?"

"Ah, Rook. Yes. I am fine, only on a stroll."

Blue eyes examine him once over, a small frown forming, "You look tired, Lucanis. Why don't you get some rest? I can keep an eye on Spite."

Yes. Do it! Go to Rook.

"I do not wish to trouble you with that. Spite is mine to deal with."

"You can’t just avoid sleep forever. It would be no trouble at all." She looks at him with such softness, he wants to give in.

"I can handle this. Do not worry yourself."

The space between them is a hollow ache, close but not enough. A moment of weakness, Caterina would call it. To be an assassin, you must set aside emotion. To get the job done, there can be no hesitation, no doubt. Love is a weakness. It sets you up to lose.

He did not want to lose her.

He turns, heading out of the main hall and back to his own room. The air of the Fade was stale with each inhale, heavy.

How frustrating you are. She likes us, and you stay away?

"What is it with you? Why do you act as if you know her?" He snaps back.

You know her, so I do too. Rook is good.

It’s the least hostile thing Spite has said to him. The demon really means it. He cares for Rook in his own unconventional way.

He pours another cup of coffee.

[aomiiine]

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘

love & deep space w ZAYNE format. fic. warnings. fluff + nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. soft vanilla love making. praise. endearments(darling, princess, etc). strawberry cake mention cs its my fav. summary. he’s more focused on you rather than the occasion which was his birthday.

author’s note. hppy belated birthday to my fav boy!!

“So you made these for me, hm?” The dark haired man beside you asked, his gaze attentive and tone almost accusing—something you were awfully used to by now. “Are you sure you didn’t buy them, darling? I won’t be mad if you did,” he added, pushing himself off the kitchen counter he was recently leaning his hips against.

“I made, Zayne. I’ve told you this time and time again—I’ve been practicing, okay?” you countered, your brows furrowing and your lips forming a small pout of annoyance at how your lover kept on questioning the source of his birthday cake for this year. Unbeknownst to you, while you were busy pouting and setting up the candles on the cake, Zayne had his eyes fixated on your face, the corner of his lips curling to faint smile as he spectated your change of expressions from your side profile.

“I never said I didn’t believe you, my love,” the tall man uttered in a soft scoff. He watched attentively as you finally held the lighter to light up the candles, the small flames making an intimate atmosphere in your purposely dimly lit home. Even with the skilfully made strawberry cake you decorated for him, the only thing he had given his attention to was you, and it seemed like it would be that way for the entire night.

”There. Make a wish and blow them out for me,” you urged, putting the lighter away and turning to him with a fond, excited smile. It was like you were more enthusiastic about his birthday than himself—and the way you caught him looking at you the moment you shifted your gaze to him proved that point more. It was his birthday—so why was he staring at you?

Your smile faltered nervously, feeling a bit self-conscious with how intense his dark hazel green eyes gazed at you, fingers twitching and all.

“Something wrong?” was all you could muster to say at the moment, cursing yourself for letting him affecting you so despite your years of being together. He still managed to make you flustered, shy.

“I made my wish.”

You raised a brow at him, blinking at him curiously with the candles on cake flickering softly, the flames illuminating the room just enough for you to see each other. The second you opted to part your lips to ask him what his wish was exactly, he stole your breath away, halting your actions by leaning down to you, letting his lips meet your soft ones. Your breath hitched once you registered his actions, not letting him wait and giving him access to your mouth.

“Zayne,” you huffed between your kisses, his hand moving up to circle your neck, his thumb gently caressing your jawline.

“You are what I wished for,” was all he whispered in return before sliding his tongue against yours, taking you in and leaving you to nibble on your wet lower lip. “I can’t possibly wish for anything more—,” he added with a soft groan, his free hand reaching up to grip your hip, fingers massaging your flesh there before pushing back up against the marble kitchen counter. “—other than for you to stay by my side.”

At this point, you were near breathless, soft mewls of his name leaving your lips at the feeling of his cold fingers skimming under your shirt and over your tummy. You had your hands hold onto his arms, nails gently digging him and earning yourself a hum of delight from him.

In a matter of seconds he had your shirt lifted up over chest, one hand helping you held it up while the other slid up your rib cage to cup your breast that was encased in your bra. All the while his fingers tugged on the fabric of your bra, he had his lips glued to your neck, tongue peeking out to leave warm licks along your skin whenever he felt your pulse. With a mere hook of his fingers on your bra, he had your tits spilled out for him, his mouth migrating downward to your sweetly bared nipples, taking one of them around his lips.

“Baby, the candles—they’ll melt,” you breathed out between pants and whimpers, shivers running down your spine with every tug he made on your hardened bud, the swirl of his tongue around your areola making you mumble pathetic, empty pleas for him.

“Then we’ll make love in the dark. I know every part—every crevice of your body by heart,” he replied calmly, not bothered by the thought of the candles suddenly going during their intimate moment—he was too into it to care.

How could he stop now? When he finally his hand hovering above your wet cunt, fingers teasingly hooking under your waistband of your pants but not pulling it down until he felt you were desperate enough. And that didn’t take long. ‘Cause he had your pants pooled around your ankles in seconds, hands impatiently lifting you up onto the cold counter where your pretty cunt was finally equally level with his hips.

“Let me unwrap my gift, darling,” his smooth voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath kissing your skin and heating up your face when he laid your lower half bare to him. You had your hands gripping onto his upper arms, then his shoulders, eyes glazed over and watching closely as he undid his the zipper of his pants, his slender finger sliding his boxers down a bit to pull his cock out easier. You gulped in both nervousness and eagerness at the sight of his thick length standing at attention with a slight curve, beads of precum forming at the tip of it.

“You’re drooling,” he murmured teasingly to catch your attention, exhaling a soft sigh and smiling at the sight of the adorable face you made when you left your trance of need whenever you admired him, any part of him. “I’ll give it to you, love, don’t worry,” he assured you, hand moving to part your thighs further, pulling you further to the edge of the counter and finally aligning his cock along your pussy, nudging your slick folds apart with the fat tip.

“Fuck,” you heard him growl softly, the mere contact of his tip with the outer layer of your sweetness affecting him more than he’d like. With a look of determination, he pushed his hips forward slowly, easing himself into your slit while keeping a good hold on your hip.

You couldn’t help the whimpers and moans that he coaxed out of you, your entire being melting at the fullness you felt when he was fully inside you, his balls pressed against your ass.

Zayne winced and grunted with every spasm you made around his cock, loving how his sweet yet filthy praises affected you so with only a few thrusts he made into you. And he didn’t hesitate to surge forward more, pounding into you with unbecoming moans and squelches made from your sex filling your home.

You held onto his shoulders tightly, your grip shifting with every thrust his hips made, making you wrap your arms around him and pulling him closer to you. Your thighs quivered around his hips, high-pitched moans forced out of you from how tightly the knot in your lower belly tied, the tip of Zayne’s dick hitting you in the right spot every time. Perhaps it was uncoincidental that your lover felt the same, the warmth and intensity of love that was shared between you amplifying the pleasure ten fold.

“Princess, ‘m gonna cum for you—inside you,” he murmured, his words jumbled and almost incoherent. It was clear his mind was as hazy as yours at that moment, his hips pounding into you with need. His movements turned jerky when he finally neared that climax along with you, your tightening cunt giving him the final push from the edge, his aching cock twitching and pulsing inside your depths as he finally spilled thick ropes of his cum, painting your velvety walls an innocent white. Your own orgasm followed suit, mixing with his own to form a potent mixture of sensual adoration.

With ragged breaths, he slumped against you, his knees bucking slightly as he basked in the afterglow with you. He didn’t shy away from your embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of your sweat and shampoo, calming him from his exertion.

“I don’t mind spending my birthday like this again next year, my dear. Maybe I’ll help you shop for a cake too,” he muttered against your neck, his voice hoarse yet playful. You groaned in response, hitting his arm lightly for acting suspicious about the cake you proclaimed to have baked yourself. “I didn’t buy the cake,” you grumbled against his shoulder, resting your head against him, to which he only chuckled at. “Sure, you didn’t,” Zayne murmured, smiling contently above your shoulder.

[dont-look-its-embarrassing]

To be Understood

Second part to "To be Seen"

Hey! I honestly didn't think people would like the last drabble as much as they did and I didn't have a pt.2 planned, but I decided to try and see where it goes.

Also, I am new to actually posting something and having feedback or having people want to be tagged, so I didn't do something right in the tagging process pls let me know :)

I am going to make this a little series bc I cannot fit the entirety of the story in one and actually make it comprehensive and not 10,000+ words in one one-shot. :)))

Plus, I think I could make this just the right amount of heart wrenching and fluffy >:)

Summary: Following up on his promise to keep a more watchful position in your newly transitioned life, Azriel attempts to get to know you and spend time in your presence. After the panic attack in the town of Velaris, more seeing eyes has been turned towards you from your friends. They are trying to make sure you are accounted for more than before, but time and pressure has some things slipping. Multiple awkward encounters and attempts to see eye to eye to the spymaster (in particular) leads to an intimate confession between the two of you.

Warnings: Slight mentions of PTSD recovery, anxiety, self-doubt, slight!jealous Azriel, Cassian is testing the waters with his brother again

Words: 2,668

previous part

The sun was the first thing your eyes adjusted to upon waking up. The slight breeze from the open window brought in the fresh smell of the dew and had your body relaxing further into the comfy sheets as the temperature in the room reflected that of outside. The eccentricity of your room bringing comfort and serenity and the little nicknacks you have collected since being here allowed a cozy feeling to emulate throughout it.

Feyre even mentioned how jealous she was of how comfortable and warm your room is, and mentioned she couldn’t get hers to be similar even when she tried.

The memory had you smiling.

Stretching underneath the comfortable weighted comforter, you pull back the edge, allowing your body to be exposed to the colder air. Grabbing the longer silk robe that hung beside you, you made your way out of your comfort zone to the hallway towards the kitchen. Ever since your moment within the town, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, everyone had made sure that you were taken care of and heard. It took some time to get used to, admittedly, all the extra attention. At first you had slightly resented it as you could only imagine it as an act of pity and after you had an episode, you also understood that the type of thinking is how the eldest Archereon is as cold as she is. Plus, the time you spend with them has created strong bonds and happy memories for you.

It also had you picking up new hobbies that you never had time for before.

Turns out you can cook.

And bake.

Really well actually.

So well that often times when you bake a new treat or snack, upon knowing of its presence, the residents of the house would have it gone within the hour. It made you feel good, to be able to repay in some way the aid they have given you.

The mystery that is your abilities have yet to be explored since the outburst, but you also didn’t mind as your head was finally wrapping around the circumstances you have been put through. Although, the High Lord or Rhys, had expressed interest in potentially figuring it out soon to see if it could help them and the court. You were all over it, and the aspect of integrating into this family further made you excited.

Arriving in the kitchen, you begin gathering ingredients to make breakfast. The house, although it can provide anything you wish for food, seemed to pick up on your therapeutic hobby and promoted it. Even gathering ingredients and appearing them before you on the counterspace. You always chalked it up to the house wanting a break from constantly taking care of people, but deep down you knew it seemed to have a little soft spot for you. Whipping together the batter, throwing it in the divine oven and cooking the meats to perfection, the breakfast is ready in about an hour.

The sun had settled into the sky, far from shining over the horizon which had its’ light wake you.

It was still early though.

Looking at the spread before you, you had asked the house to keep it warm and ready for everyone as they began to roll out of bed and chase the heavenly scent of pancakes, bacon and omelet.

It was Azriel’s favorite.

The skin of your cheeks flared at the thought and shook your head at how absurd you are. Cooking and baking for everyone allowed you to take notice of things that they had favored over the rest, often being expressed vocally. However, some, like the spymaster, just through body language and action would key you into likes and dislikes. Feyre loved eggs benedict, in almost nauseatingly cuteness, so did her mate. When you would make it, almost as a sixth sense, those two would always be the first to arrive and express how happy the dish made them before gathering a large plate. Cassian was a sandwich guy, anything quick and simple, but he swears you enchant the sausage and bacon you add to be sweet and salty at the same time. On those days you often must make a bounty of those little sandwiches for him to take with him for the day. Mor liked simple muffins and like Cass, would wrap one up to go while giving you a hug on her way out. Nesta and Elaine hadn’t showed up for breakfast but the youngest seemed to prefer oatmeal, which ironically was also her favorite while human.

Azriel was the hardest to read. With every dish you made, breakfast/lunch/dinner, he would appreciate and eat like a man starved (an exaggeration but you always found your eyes on him anyway). You had switched up the recipes and altered the assortment of foods, but every time he would tell you how much he liked it and clear the plate.

It wasn’t until you truly watched him did you found out just how much he loved the simple things in life.

It was a day like any other, you had cooked breakfast and set up the table for a nice meal as you had known everyone would be able to sit and eat together. It was uncommon so you made a tried-and-true love by everyone.

Bacon, eggs and pancakes with homemade lavender syrup that you asked Elaine to harvest for you in her garden.

As everyone sat, you couldn’t help but let your eyes stare as the spymaster sat down fresh out of bed and allowed a little small smile to grace his features looking at the plate he had. It was all you needed to know, and each time you would serve something new, you would watch for the little ticks that he would allow to shine through.

A smile.

A little sigh and relief of tension from his shoulders.

A gentle extra “Thank you” which he would all but whisper across the table to you.

All of it had your heart thumping and blood rushing to your face, allowing that little butterfly to turn into hundreds.

After his comment after taking you home, he had made his presence around you more common and you loved it. Every time the two of you were together time became irrelevant, the serene sense that would settle over your body was addictive. You had only prayed that he got the same sense of belonging.

He was such a pretty male.

So gentle and observant.

It was so hard to not have your feelings bleed into your everyday life and movements. It wasn’t long after the incident with him that your thoughts were all but consumed by him.

Not that you were complaining.

“It smells divine in here.” The soft sound of Mor broke you out of your rather long thoughts of Az, as an easy smile fell over your face.

“I wanted to make something simple today.” You shrug, but meeting the second hand’s eyes, you stumbled slightly.

“How are you settling in Y/n?” Her tone was inquisitive, but the smile that bloomed her face left you choking.

“Well.” You coughed, “I’m settling in well.”

“Anyone in particular helping you out?” You narrowed your eyes to her.

“Everyone has been amazing.”

“Oh, come on Y/n!” She shuffled towards you as mischief glinted in her eyes. “You can tell me; we all see it.”

Your heart stopped.

“All?” Her light laughter halted.

“No not all, some though.” Your breathing resumed. “I highly doubt if you wrote a sign with all these love meals, he still wouldn’t see it.” It was chastising, lovingly, but still with a little edge to it.

“He is just being friendly Mor.” You argue with a sigh. It was the one thought you couldn’t get out of your head. Viewing his relationship with everyone and his attentiveness towards Elaine. You couldn’t help but just feel as if he enjoyed your presence, but as a friend.

Mor sighed and looked towards the still steaming pile of pancakes and syrup.

“I know it can be difficult to believe, but he’s more relaxed around you. If any two people deserve to be happy or even have a shot, it’s you two.” The sounds of footsteps down the hall had her breaking away from you but not without a nod sent towards her. You would be open to him and the idea, more than just the little crush you have accumulated.

The in-question footsteps that had the conversation halting belonged to Feyre, Rhys and the male in question. Most likely fresh from training as small beads of sweat pooled on their skin and hair showed dampness.

You watched the spymaster’s eyes alight, taking in the assortment of his favorites on the counter. He quickly grabbed a plate, effortlessly and unbeknownst to his high lord and lady, cutting in front of them to scoop his desired piles.

“Y/n, you are the most amazing person I have ever met.” Feyre exclaimed as her body seemed to quiver with the simple task of standing, but her obviously salivating mouth had her also reaching for cutlery and plates to pile stuff onto. Rhys laughed in response to her antics and followed suit, thanking you in the process as both followed the now seated Azriel to the table. It was sweet, his honor to wait for you to be seated and with food to begin eating. You could tell some days it really tried his control; however, those days you knew without a shadow of a doubt that he truly loved the food that had been prepared. Glancing back towards the table, you met eyes briefly with Azriel.

The warmth that showed in them had you ignite with hope and adoration towards the male, almost uncontrollably so. It had you smiling and fiddling at the ends of your hair.

The following sounds of heavier steps broke your attention.

“Can I just say, I am in love with you.” Cassian entered the kitchen with heat and brought you into a quick embrace. The smell of sweat and sand had you scrunching your nose but the laugh that exited you had him add a little spin before setting you down.

The soft sound of a chair being moved echoed as you didn’t realize the table had become quiet, watching.

Mor had a shit eating grin, but not at you, but at the now walking over Spymaster. The same spymaster picked up your loaded plate (you were waiting for everyone to be served before doing so yourself) and brought it back to the table, setting it down in the open seat across from himself. You tilted your head but caught the small look between the mates at the table, notably having a non-verbal conversation. Looking back at the general, he too had a smile, but one only aimed at you and the food in front of you.

“I’ll be over once I pile the rest of the bacon on.” Another laugh emitted from you as you walked over to your place, noting the food had been set down gently and not disturbed when Azriel had placed it.

You looked up and met his hazel eyes, there was a slight edge to it, but not at you. In fact, when you met his eyes, you could’ve sworn they melted from that ice back to the warmth that was once there before.

The settling of plates had you glance over at Cassian. He was only a seat away from, you but on the other side of the table.

Easy conversation settled over the table as everyone began to eat. Taking bites of your eggs and bacon, a small moan of appreciation rattled through you. You caught movement in your peripheral where Azriel sat, but didn’t bother to check or see what it was assuming it was just him enjoying his meal.  Even you had to admit this was good. Similar sounds followed suit as everyone dug in and the sounds of scraping of plates that filled the room.

“Are you busy today?” Cassian piped up after shoveling a rather large mouthful of egg. You shook your head; you didn’t think you had anything planned but were going to ask if Azriel had a couple hours to spare for some time alone with him to talk. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could Az had cleared his throat and spoke up.

“We have plans.” The room turned towards the male as he stared at his brother, the ice returning to his gaze. You wracked your brain trying to make sure you didn’t forget plans that you had made prior but came up empty. That grin from Mor returned as she made eye contact with you.

Suddenly the leftover soggy pancakes on your plate looked really interesting.

“Oh?” The brother threw back. Looking over to Cassian again, you nodded along feigning innocence.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve forgotten for a moment.” Although you knew your best friend and possibly Mor clocked it quick, you allowed the easy smile to lay it on thick with the general. He returned it and nodded along, taking the lie for a simple slip of the mind.

“No problem, but when you’re free I want to show you around the training grounds. I think it could be good for you.” Your chest filled with pride again, even some that you didn’t think could be your own, but none the less made you feel all nice. As everyone cleaned up and filed out, you caught eyes with Azriel.

His shoulders were tense.

Nervous even.

The depth of his shadows swirled around him as he took particularly long to wash up his plate.

Watching the last of your friends exit the kitchen and the food clean itself up and put away, you made light steps over to the shadowsinger.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” You ask. The feign confidence of your words had Az glancing over with a small smile. Releasing a little sigh, he removed his eyes from his now empty hands which wrapped around the front of the sink. He had leaned into it, seemingly matching your confident air.

“Anything you want, sunshine.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away. Today was a record for heat that entered your face. You tried your best not to allow the nerves in your stomach to ruin the encounter.

You would be fine.

It’s just two friends hanging out.

All normal here.

But the ideas that Mor had fed into your brain ran rampant.

“There is a bakery and some shops I want to explore. Can we go today?” You originally had plans to go with Feyre. In fact, she had made you swear you wouldn’t go without her because she heard the pastries were divine.

She would forgive you once she knew who you went with instead.

“Of course, I’ve been meaning to make a couple stops as well. We can go together.” You couldn’t help the small seed of selfishness from talking as you held eye contact with the male.

“Can you fly us down? I’m still not used to winnowing.” It was the most believable lie you have ever let slip past your lips, but you didn’t feel sorry about it. Would you ever admit it was because you wanted to be pressed against him with adrenaline rushing through you? Or that you wanted to feel his strong arms hold you without a single ounce of sweat or issue? Perhaps that you wanted to smell his scent of frost and night and hope to any god that would listen that it would cling to the sweater you would wear. Not if your life depended on it and there was a sword slitting your throat.

However, something in the way Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly and his smile turned into a smirk had you second guessing how thoroughly your ulterior motives had been hidden.

“Anything for you Sunshine, wouldn’t dream of making you ill.”

He clocked it.

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@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @willowpains @adventure-awaits13 @

[justporo]

Brewing Storms

A storm is brewing - oh yes, a literal one too. Tav's scared to be alone during a thunderstorm. Astarion is reluctant but stays to provide some comfort - and realises it might have been one of the better things to happen to him.

Author's Note: I started this a while ago and then stuff got in the way - like Gale for example (lol) - and now I'm happy to be back to write something soft for Astarion and Tav!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: Talk of trauma, very light smut Wordcount: 2,4k

~~~

Astarion and you had fallen into a sort of weird routine with your little late night escapades. Since the party after you saved the Grove and the first night you’ve spent together you had come together time and time again.

First only every couple of days. Always meeting somewhere away from camp and then sneaking back sometime before the others woke up. Although you were surely fair they all knew already anyway. But now you were almost spending every night together. Fortunately for the two of you, being elven meant you were still getting enough rest despite the nightly adventures.

Astarion kept feeding you his cheesy lines – you ate them right up. No one had ever given you this kind of attention. And as much as you knew that it was an act: how could you resist? You had never experienced such flattery nor could anyone you’d shared intimacy with ever compare to Astarion. But that wasn’t even the main thing.

You’d had crushes before, you’d fallen in love before but you were pretty sure it had never been quite like this. Your whole chest sometimes ached when you looked at Astarion. Sometimes when you caught him in a rare moment when he let his perfected mask drop for a second you saw the bottomless sadness and worry in his eyes. And all you wished for was to erase whatever it was that caused that sadness – to keep him safe and always give him something to smile about.

You had quite positively fallen for the vampiric elf. What had been a crush at first had very quickly become an unyielding need in your heart: desperate to be near him, to hear his voice, talk to him, to laugh at his sassy comments, to lay in his arms and to hold him in turn. Out of everything you surely hadn’t wanted or planned to fall in love with everything else going on – but there you were.

You were a hopeless case – even though you were sure it would come back to bite you (and maybe even literally): be it that he lost interest in you way quicker than you would like or that he had ulterior motives and that you were merely a means to an end.

In fact, you were entirely sure that there was more to Astarion. You weren’t all fooled and blinded by your brewing emotions for the vampire. Maybe not really the first time, but as you got more used to sharing a bed with Astarion you were well aware that it seemed like he wasn’t fully there with you.

You could take only guesses at why that was exactly – and you didn’t like any of those.

At several occasions you had tried to bring it up. But he had swatted your concerns away every time, just making a sultry joke or drowning you with kisses until you had forgotten what you had wanted to say. In any case he always pushed you to get back into his arms.

Gladly, you would have offered him an open ear – your heart was already wide open.

But you were sure this wouldn’t last. You were in way over your head and you so desperately wanted to avoid breaking the spell.

And as much as you would have wished for him to open up more, to let you in a bit more and as much as you would have liked to confess the way you felt: you didn’t think you could do it without ruining whatever it was between the two of you.

At least, he seemed to be a bit more present when he was with you of late. The changes seemed subtle enough, but you were convinced that it slowly became different. Maybe it was just that the two of you had gotten used to this dance now, but you could swear his hands lingered longer now on your skin, that his kisses became deeper and more tender, that the way he looked at you became softer sometimes. And that those moments, when he seemed miles away, became fewer.

Tonight, when you had set up camp it had seemed like a storm was brewing.

You had already felt tense when you had noticed: growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate as a child with nowhere safe to go had traumatised you for life. Especially when it came to storms: too many nights you’d had to spend outside somewhere while the rain kept pouring down.

But worst had always been the thunder. Every single one like an explosion while a little child sat somewhere cowered trying to stay safe and crying from fear and loneliness. Even when you had gotten older and had always managed to secure a safe spot for sleeping and shelter the fear of thunderstorms had remained.

And thus far you’d gotten lucky that there had been no storms since this whole chaos had started. But the stroke of luck was over now it seemed.

When Astarion had thrown you certain looks after the party had gone to unwind each on their own after eating, you had very rambly and awkwardly suggested to maybe spend the night in your tent this night, because the others surely knew anyway and what if it started pouring and wasn’t it more comfortable anyway?

You just were desperate to not be somewhere outside when the thunderstorm was going to hit – and maybe even not alone.

And Astarion had looked at you suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, surely noticing that something was up. But in the end, he had simply shrugged and followed you to your tent.

So now you lay pressed against each other. Astarion on top of you, his body delightfully weighing you down, both of your shirts already off and his hands kept roaming your body as you gratefully gave in to his open-mouthed kisses. His hand had just dipped below the waistline of your trousers when you could hear the first far away rumbling.

Immediately you tensed a little but forced yourself to try and not be bothered by it. Astarion’s kisses wandered down your throat now.

A second already much louder rumble. You gasped.

And apparently Astarion had noticed that it wasn’t because of his touch – you could almost feel how he had furrowed his brows. But he kept silent and continued to kiss and caress you, leaning on one of his forearms.

When a third roar of thunder made you actually wince and recoil, he pushed up on his arm and looked at you. The other hand though stayed right where it was inside your pants.

“Afraid of a little thunder, love?”, he said and cocked an eyebrow. His tone wasn’t even overly sassy but you still couldn’t help but to feel hurt.

More thunder. This time so loud it felt like it was exactly above you. You recoiled again and felt how panic rose in you. You pushed the vampire - who actually looked hurt by that - off of you. His hand slipping from where it had caressed you.

“Maybe I am afraid of thunder. So?”, you spat back while you sat up and hugged your knees to your naked chest. As much as you wanted the comfort of his arms: panic and whatever feeling it had been that had overcome you when Astarion had looked hurt when you’d pushed him back got the better of you.

Shame mixed with the fear and you could feel your throat close up.

Astarion had knelt back on the balls of his feet watching you with a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. He definitely didn’t seem as cocky as a few moments ago though.

You looked away as another thing spiced up the mix of emotions running high: worry, that you had just broke something that couldn’t be repaired.

“I-“, Astarion started and then stopped helplessly.

The vampire was actually worried about you in this moment. Astarion was surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion and he was certainly hurt that you pushed him away. But more than anything: he didn’t know what to do now. Quite obviously you were not in the mood anymore for getting down and dirty.

It occurred to him that he did not want you to be afraid and upset. But then again, he had no idea how to make it so. And on top of that: he was pretty sure you weren’t interested in anything of the sort. Sure, you were absolutely the one person he talked the most to in the party. And yes, you were always making sure he’d gotten enough blood – but that was probably because you had need of him being his fittest for fighting. Also, you did actually seem to care about what had happened to him, wanting to learn more about him – but…

The vampire was confused and helpless. So he opted for the one option he deemed reasonable: leave.

He grabbed his shirt and started pulling it over his head while saying: “Alright, since it seems there won’t be any naughty indulgence tonight, I guess I better get back to my tent and you can try and-“

He was interrupted by you grabbing his wrist firmly.

“Please”, you pleaded, “don’t leave me alone.”

You were desperate: you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want to have ruined the delicate thing that had been forming between you.

Astarion let his shirt drop again and looked at you. Your eyes were filled with tears and full of fear. His confusion became even more: “Darling, I’m not… Maybe you should ask the druid to… help you. Maybe he has something herbal to-“ You basically yanked on the vampire’s arm.

“No please, Astarion, I just… want you to stay here with me. Just… hold me? Please?”, you pleaded with him as tears started to stream down your face.

You really didn’t want to be alone for one but also you were desperate to feel his arms around you again – to be sure he would still want to hold you, as much as wanting his comfort.

Astarion’s brows furrowed again but he dropped his shirt again and crawled over to you as you shyly opened up your arms to him to be cradled by the vampire. He slid his arms around you and softly moved you until you were laying there: him on his back with you carefully snuggled up against his chest – skin on skin.

The relief you felt was almost instant. Not only because he had agreed to stay but also feeling his body against yours immediately made some of the tension inside you ease.

Astarion reluctantly started to stroke your back as you buried your face against his chest. It all felt more than just a little awkward and you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but you just wrapped your arms around the vampire and tried to calm yourself.

Still tears kept coming and thunder was rolling in quicker now. Then the rain started as well and became a constant drumroll on your tent. The loud rumbles kept going and made you wince from time to time, but it was now considerably better than before.

Astarion grew more confident with just stroking your back. He even carefully placed a kiss on the top of your head at one point, in your all messed up hair. You both eased into this rather unfamiliar form of closeness.

After being stressed about the coming storm all evening, you felt that your body couldn’t retain the tension anymore. You weren’t entirely sure what all this meant for Astarion and you, but you forced yourself to just stay in this moment. Because this already was something you wouldn’t have thought to ever be possible. It was tender and sweet. Something you would have never imagined when this vampire had, upon first meeting him, thrown you on the ground and threatened you with a knife.

You were so desperate to hold onto this. So, you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter and cautiously tangled your legs with his. He let it happen.

And Astarion – Astarion’s mind was racing, utterly confused by the turn the night had taken. It definitely wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this outcome – to his own surprise. Quite the opposite actually.

When the thunder subsided and the rain tap-tap-tapping on the tent ceiling was what remained of the storm and he felt you quite noticeably relax into his arms even more – his chest started to ache.

He was overthrown by his own sentiment and the trust you put into him; surprised, scared even.

In his thoughts Astarion kept turning around the fact how you had specifically asked him to stay with you although you had so visibly been upset. More upset even than he had ever seen you in any battle. And that you had wanted nothing but to be held in his arms. And he – to his own surprise – had been happy to be there for you, proud even, realising that he really wanted you to be alright.

You hadn’t even talked since he had taken you in his arms. Just felt the connection, your skin warm on his. His hands hesitatingly caressing and trying to comfort you while your tears subsided and your breathing became more even.

And even though it had been you who had pleaded for comfort – Astarion could feel it too. Felt, how the warmth of your body soaked into his undead body and your breath brushed over his naked upper body – now in a steady and calm rhythm again. You were so close, he could even feel the beat of your steadying heartbeat through your conjoined chests.

And when Astarion was sure that you must’ve drifted off into your dreams – because he had held you – he kept staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

The rain had become almost non-existent after what must’ve been hours now.

The vampire’s chest still ached with something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. But he could feel that it had become something way too big to ignore. Something that would soon be unleashed – for better or for worse. And he was frightened about that.

But not in this moment. This moment he would hold onto. So he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter still, closed his eyes and full on buried his face in your hair while he was so fully aware of the feeling of your body against his.

Then he whispered so silently, even the last of the raindrops would have drowned out the words. So silently, because he was still so unsure, so scared and the words were only meant for him – and maybe sometime for you: “My love, what ever have you done to me?”

[tinydefector]

Rut Cycles- Optimus Prime

Human x gen 1 Optimus

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, size difference, breeding, Alpha/Omega hinted, mating cycles, scent kink.

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Is it 1am? Yes, did I spend all night editing this yes. I'm posting this rather than heading to bed. The votes for the next character are still up, but the next fic piece is gonna be out of my Request pile.

_______________

"Hey boss Bot, how'd the meeting with the Cons go?" A soft voice breaks Optimus out of his daze of reading over reports and signed documents. He tenses his plating as they make their way up onto the table, the ever present scent that lingers on their skin makes his processor turn and twist in anticipation And want. 

Optimus vented deeply, attempting to cool his systems through will alone, he didn't need this now, everyone from autobot to Decepticon had been hit by the rut cycle and being around humans wasn't helping one bit. The meeting with Megatron had been, taxing, to say the least, as his counterpart struggled through heightened arousal akin to Optimus' own condition. Finding a solution had been their main concern outside of setting out rules of war while in rut. 

"It went as well as could be expected, given the circumstances," he replied wearily to the human who now sits on his desk, they are less worried about being in the room with the large thorny cybertronian that they should have been. Whether it was due to Optimus' unwavering control over himself or them just being oblivious was a different matter altogether. They look up at him for a moment, the sweet energon like scent wafts off their skin. Making Optimus breath hitch, his systems whining, craving desperately to claim what he so desperately wanted" strange seeing Cons in the Ark" they state while looking over their shoulder at the door. 

"Our cycles affect us all strongly, and it results in a domino effect. For your safety, little one, it may be wise to refrain from proximity until it has passed." He tries to explain hoping that he wouldn't have to spend too much more time in the room with them, their sweet electrum like scent would still hang in the room even after they left.       

Optimus vented unsteadily, intake dry, a deep rumble echoes from him as his optics move to where they look. "Their presence here was... unavoidable, it was only a matter of time before this became an issue between our factions" he replied, struggling to focus past rising mating coding demanding he seize this delectable temptation sitting infront of him as if they were a offering from Primus.

"Please, little one," Optimus rasped, field pulled taut as battle-thickened wires. "For both of our sakes, do not test my control overly long, even if I have my limits." He grumbles as he watches the door, finding it was best he not look at them less he be tempted to pin them down to the table and have his way with them. 

"I'd rather take my chances with you OP, I don't really want to deal with the Seekers who have been stalking me around base since your meeting ended" they mumbles, partly under their breath. 

A heavy sigh leaves Optimus as he looks back down at them, part of him now wanted to claim them just to spite the lingering Cons looking for easy pickings, the other part of him shouted that it was wrong. He reaches out a shake servo to grab his cube, Optimus gulps a draught of energon, processors whirling. “You're testing all of our instincts, do you wish for me to escort you out of base?”  he asked which only earns him a head shake of a no from them. 

"Very well," Optimus rumbled gently. They hum softly as Optimus stands there looking down at them, a shutter runs up their back as they look into his optics, biting their lip. " Optimus. Name one reason someone would willingly walk into a room with a large half freal horny cybertronian" they shoot back as their hand presses gently against his frame Optimus shuttered his optics briefly, vents catching at their bold reply. 

“You were planning this?” He grumbles but doesn't pull away, A slight creak of hydraulics announces his closing fist against the table as he struggles to hold back ravaging them.

 They slowly begin undoing their shirt, throwing it across the table as they hook their hand into his plating as if to usher him closer. “Don't ask for this little Light, I can't,  not like this” he clenches his denta as he desperately tries To change their mind. 

“Optimus.  Stop being a Prime for once” they shoot back at him. Optimus' optics darken with a mixture of desire, his servo to trail up their body, his digits tracing over their skin.

they let out a sigh of relief feeling the cool metal trace over their hot skin. Optimus leans in closer, pressing his frame against theirs, his servos continuing their exploration. The contact between their skin ignites a fire within him, and he can't help but let out a low growl. “I warned you little light, reconsider now, less I hurt you because I will not stop once I lose control” he nearly snarls out. 

They cling to him bringing him down into a kiss which makes his engine roar in delight as he presses them down into the table, his servo drifting down between their legs, pressing and rubbing against them. "Optimus please don't make me beg" they whine out while grabbing onto his arm plating. 

A growl rumbles from his vocalizer as he tightens his grip, his servo responding to their urgency. He wants nothing more than to take them as his and he would be damned to the pits if he was letting them go now. 

Optimus's frame trembles with need as he takes charge, his actions becoming more urgent and possessive as his digits tease them not bothering to work them open fully. He lefts out a feral snarl as he brings his digits to his mouth, savouring the sweet taste of their arousal. If his processor wasn't so consumed with the need to claim he would have taken it slow, eaten them out until they had begged, been gentle as he could, the gentleman that he swore he was but his rut had him acting like a beast. 

 His hungry optics focus on their sex enjoying the way the whimper and moan as his dripping spike lays across their stomach as he admires the size difference between them both. A sinful whine escapes their lips, and Optimus's spike throbs in response, aching to be sheathed within them. He positions himself above them, slowly grinding his spike against them as he paints their skin with the bright pink hue of transfluid. 

He watches the way his transfluid runs down their sex, it makes something primal in him snap with the need to have his spike bulging their stomach, filling them and breeding them. "Such an eager little thing," Optimus huskily replies, his voice dripping with desire. 

He positions himself, his spike throbbing with anticipation as he aligns it with their entrance. The hunger in his optics burns through them as he presses forward, slowly but forcefully breaching their tight heat.

"Oh, you feel so good," he groans. "You're mine to breed, to fill with my transfluid.” He states, optics hald hazed over as he grinds into them until his spike settles as far as they can take it. Optimus's thrusts become more powerful and relentless as he hunches over them, gripping their hips and lifting their smaller body to meet each of his thrust that knock the air out of their lungs. 

He relishes in the gasps, cries, and moans that escape their lips, the sounds of their pleasure echoing with the slick slapping noise of their coupling that bounce off the wall of the office. Their scent pushes him further into the depths of his rut and driving him to give them even more. "That's it," Optimus growls, "Take me, Primus so tight. You are mine, my rut mate."

He continues his relentless thrusts, each one driving them both closer to the edge of pleasure. The sight of his spike stretching them, bulging their tummy has his engine purring in delight with the thought of them carrying his sparklings. He knows if the rut is affecting his processor but at that moment nothing else mattered. 

Optimus Prime's vocalizer emits a low, primal growl as he thrusts into them, their desperate moans and arching body driving him further into a state of overwhelming pleasure. He pushes his spike as deep as they can take it, relishing in the way their walls clench around him. "By the Allspark," Optimus gasps, his voice laced with desire and need. "You feel incredible... so tight, so perfect."

His frame shudders with a powerful overload, waves of electricity coursing through his circuits as he releases a floor of transfluid deep inside them. His systems whine out almost in agony from how mind blowing the release is for him as he hunches over their body. Fans blowing heated air against their panting body as Optimus' systems struggle to register the need to stop before he's grinding into them again. 

He lets out a few heavy vents as he presses his face into their shoulder. “I'll Alert Ironhide to let everyone know that we are not to be disturbed” he mumbles against their skin as he pulls away. Optics focusing in on their stretched hole as even more bright pink transfluid gushes from them. They squirm under his gaze as he lets out a rumble of appreciation at the view.

“my berth now” he states, not even giving them a chance to protest before he's walking out of the room towards command deck. 

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Sweetness and Stripes

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, tigerhybrid!sukuna, AU - no curses, slight angst, possessive sukuna, the drabble is where the NSFW is at, but after one of the dividers is where the headcanons become suggestive, biting, cockwarming, p in v, creampie

☆ Notes: tigers are my favorite animal and sukuna is my favorite man and WOW what a combo they make. had a lot of fun though coming up with ideas to this and for once, the drabble portion came easy to me (easy when i too want to be claimed by sukuna).

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who goes into a rage when his old servant as he calls them decides they want him out of their home for good this time. So what he had attacked his other roommates? It's their fault; they should've known better to touch Sukuna's property or try and take over his favorite sunning throne. He's never been one to get along with others except for his nephew Yuji or his only friend ─ a harpy hybrid named Uraume.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who is drawn in like catnip by the sweet smell that clings to you one fateful day. You don't bat an eye at his imposing form, and after only one conversation, you invite him to be your new roommate. Naive is what he calls you ─ a fool. Don't you know how dangerous he is, or can be? That said, Sukuna doesn't plan on turning down your offer. Not if it means a new kingdom to conquer.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who slowly comes around to living with you. You've shown that you're a much better servant to him ─ always treating him to luxury meals and with a smile that's better than any dessert. Unlike his old home, he's alone here and without any pesky housemates to get in the way. He could get used to this lavish treatment.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who loves the way you comb your fingers through his hair, making sure his ears and tail are extra soft and shiny. He revels in the days you have off from work meaning more time to lounge around with him on the couch, watching whatever horror films he puts on. The whole time, he has his head on your lap, allowing you the chance to touch him as you wish. If you're outside, Sukuna loves to drag you into his pool to play and later nuzzles his way into your neck as the sun dries you both off.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who fully accepts how touchy he's become, going so far as to pin you down with his full weight every night in bed. You've never once complained about sharing with him ─ even in this small home ─ and he's glad because your scent is simply too irresistible to pass up. "So sweet," he'll murmur into your skin as he makes himself comfortable. The same can be said of you whenever you're occupying his sweatshirts.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who wants nothing more now than to claim you as his mate. It's only right given how well you treat him ─ like he's the king of the world. And what better way to return the favor than by making you his queen?

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who becomes brazen with his touches, even nibbling at your neck between kitten licks. Oh, how happy it makes him that you don't even try to paw him away. No, instead you giggle, and it's like angels are singing in his ears. Sukuna loves it when you're home and at his side, so much so that you've heard his lonely growls through the door before returning, only for him to be chuffing and purring, embracing you moments later with complaints about how you need to quit your job already. "I can take care of us both, you know that, right?"

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who throws a fit when you come home one day, dirtied with the stench of other dangerous hybrids. Don't you know that you're his? Sukuna's scent being all over you should be a warning enough to other suitors to back off from his mate. It doesn't matter to him that your career centers around helping others; he's the only one you should worry over.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who circles you the next time it happens like a normal tiger would, growling all kinds of curses. His tail swishes angrily from side to side, ears pointed flat like an airplane. How dare your work keep getting in the way of your time with him, covering your sweet smell up with the odors of other wretched beings. You end up sitting down ─ a subtle submission that makes him soften. You go on to tell him such kind, gentle words like you always do to calm him down.

He doesn't stray far from your side that night.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who sees red when he overhears you on the phone, talking about moving Sukuna somewhere else. Was everything you told him earlier simply a lie? You ─ his own mate ─ dares to be rid of him like his other servants? He won't let it happen again.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who after confronting you quickly finds out the truth ─ that you had been thinking of moving Sukuna just so you wouldn't have to worry about the construction crew that's coming to expand his kingdom here with you. You want your house to feel like a home to Sukuna, one where he has all the space needed for his permanent residency. That way, if he ever brings Yuji or Uraume over, he can do so without fear of it being too cramped.

☆ TigerHybrid!Sukuna who finally claims you as his beloved queen that very night.

It's a night like any other, with you sprawled out on the bed, Sukuna caging you against his especially warm body. Only this time, your clothes are nothing but shreds on the floor, and your tiger is still buried deep in your oh so sweet cunt ─ one of the many praises he's given you so far.

His breath is heavy against your neck, lips kissing along all the freshly bloomed marks; evidence of his claim of you. His arms are wrapped tightly around your waist offering a solace like nothing else. You can even feel him purring ever so quietly, with the seldom kneading of your flesh in sync to the rhythm of his heart.

After the confrontation, he swooped in with a kiss, eyes desperately looking into yours for approval. You gave it of course, how could you not? You've been pining for Sukuna since the day you found him abandoned by his old roommate. You chose to invite him home with you, not because of pity or attraction, but something more primal in your nature. A pure-hearted desire to help.

You knew right away he was a tiger hybrid given the ears and the obvious tail. Sukuna always embraced that side of him without fear, even adorning his skin with faux stripes made with the darkest of inks. His confidence and strength is admirable, and you've never felt more safe than at his side.

For you, it was love at first sight.

And now you know the same can be said for him, for how he feels for you.

"You're so good to me; I need you to be mine," he purrs, kissing you all along your neck as he pushes his way into you for the first time.

"S'kuna," you moan, raking your nails down his back from the aching stretch, giving him a fresh set of red-inked stripes, all of your own doing.

"That's it ─ keep saying my name with those beautiful lips of yours, my queen." His praise makes quick work of helping you achieve the first of many orgasms to come.

Sukuna's body stills, letting you ride out your high as you continue your song of his name. He leans forward, kissing you with a gentleness like no other, even with his tongue invading your mouth. The taste of you alone is enough to unravel him if he's not careful.

"I'm gonna fill you up every night if I have to," he growls, lifting your body up off the bed and into his body. He then starts chasing his own impending release, grunting into your flesh. "Gotta make it clear who you belong to; I don't want anyone so much as breathing in your direction when I'm done here."

He feels you clench him like a vice, making his motions more difficult, but all the more pleasurable.

"You like that, don't you?" he snickers, mocking you with that devilish smirk on his face. He licks a stripe up the back of your neck before biting down hard ─ drawing blood around his sharpened fangs.

You gasp, but the pain is easily masked by the feeling of his cock kissing your sweet, spongy spot over and over. Sounds of his growls, your moans, and all the wetness in between is all that can be heard as he spills out inside you, coating your walls in alabaster ink.

"That's my queen, so good for me." Sukuna can't help the whimpering noise that escapes his lips. Nothing in this world can compare to what you do to him. After all...

"This sweet pussy was made for me, and only me."

"What are you thinking about?" Sukuna's words draw you back to the now as he pushes himself impossibly closer. A low groan leaves you, making his tail twitch again with eagerness.

"You," you reply, turning your head enough to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He loves that.

Sukuna loves how much you put up with his antics, his temper, his everything, and still, you show him nothing but the sweetness in your soul. He loves the smile you're always showing him, even when you're begging him for more with drool spilling from the sides of your mouth. And most of all, he loves you.

"How'd I get so lucky finding you?"

"I should be the one saying that," you tease. Really, it was a chance meeting where the stars aligned perfectly. Like a red string pulling the two of you closer. "If it weren't for my work sending me to the wrong address, we might not have ever met."

That thought makes you sink deeper into his touch.

"Ugh, don't remind me," he sighs, tightening his hold possessively around you. "You should really quit that place already. What more do you need than me?"

You chuckle at his words and his disdain for your occupation. Sukuna likes to believe he would've found you at some point anyways ─ that sweet smell of yours forever luring him in. It's a miracle he got to you first, because now he'll be with you forever.

"You're not the only hybrid out there struggling to find a place or get the care they need," you tell him while drawing shapes on his arm. "But you're the only one who has my heart."

He rolls himself onto you, pushing you deeper into the pillows. His hands once again moving to ground him to your body. "Then I'll make sure the world knows, and every hybrid in it," he whispers into your ear. "You won't ever leave this house without the marks to prove it."

"Please." Your eyes flutter shut, feeling how hard he is again from within yourself. There's nothing you want more than this ─ more than Sukuna, your king, love, and everything in between.

"You're my mate ─ my queen," he says, delivering his ruling with a kiss to your lips, another bite to your neck. "In this life and every one after, my sweet love."

[slvthrs]

ALL THE THINGS WE COULDN'T SAY | v.hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

No matter what, seeing him all over again feels like the inch has given you, spans the entire seas.

OLD BSF!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, some angst, some fluff, unprotected sex, alcohol ment, making out praise kink, degradation kink, cheating, possessiveness, angry sex, slapping, face pushing, begging, choking, mean vinnie!!

word count:  2.5k <3

a/n: lil apology for the disappearance mls :(

Ever since that fateful day, I haven’t spoken a word to Vinnie.

It’s not like we were best friends, chatting everyday- at least not best friends in LA. But having sex whilst he had a girlfriend proved too much for me.

I ignored every text, every call, every attempt to get in contact despite what I really wanted. However I knew that any form of interaction between us would end up the same way our last one ended.

And I was very right.

It had been 2 months, it was all going good. I was starting to forget the feeling of his lips on me. Starting to forget the way he made me laugh, held my body close whispering sweet nothings. 

I started spending more time at the gym, and spent more time with my friends. Went out clubbing, shopping, anything that would help me forget. 

But in the back of my mind, only one thing actually made me crumble in the middle of the night, only one thing I thought of when I fell asleep, the one thing I craved.

He had given me an inch and I imagined it to be a mile- the same mistake I kept on making.

So when I heard that Vinnie was throwing his birthday and I had received the coveted invitation- I imagined it to be the world.

Vinnie’s birthday was always something I looked forward to back home. Maria’s cooking, Nate on the grill, and Reggie playing silly board games with Vinnie and I.

***

“YOU FUCKING CHEATER” I yelled, jostling Poncho in my lap.

“Oh c’mon it’s not my fault you suck at Uno” Vinnie laughs moving to pet Poncho.

“Absolutely not! I had Uno, I was about to win!” I grumble, my head falling onto the coffee table table.

Reggie’s hand rubs my back, “Hey we all know Vinnie cheats don’t worry,” He teases sticking his tongue out at his big brother.

The two boys start bickering, laughing, and yelling curses as I cradle Poncho, “Shh baby ignore em their just two stinky men” I whisper

Their words quickly turn into playful rough housing until Maria breaks them up bringing out Vinnie’s cake.

His face is illuminated by the soft glow of the candles, as the cake is set in front of him. His big signature toothy grin covers his entire face as he watches us start to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him.

One of his hands wraps around my waist and my world just stops- at least for a moment before I’m jostled by him blowing out the candles in one big huff.

“What did you wish for Vin?” Nate asks, smiling at his newly adult son

His face turns to look at me giving me a smile before turning back to his dad, “Can’t say unless I don’t want it to come true.”

My world just died right there before starting all over again.

That was a day before he left for LA.

***

I had spent the night getting ready with my friends. I was adorned in pretty jewelry complimenting my hair. I was wearing a pretty white tie-in-the-front white cropped top with long sleeves and a low-rise white mini skirt. I had matching waist chains with some strappy white heels. 

Vinnie’s favourite perfume of mine sprayed on my skin in an involuntary action as I packed up my little purse with some needed essentials and some non-essentials.

I stared in the mirror, Was I really doing this?

“Babes Tyler is here!” My friend Kylie shoots in my direction.

Tyler- the only reason my friends thought I should go to this party was if I brought a guy, so Tyler had to do.

I guess I am.

My friends and I walk out to Tyler’s car, not before a shot for pure confidence, and slip into the passenger seat driving down the same way I went two months ago.

We arrive at the house around 10:30, right around when most people are trickling in. I fix my dress as we walk through the door and all of a sudden the wave of anxiousness washes over me and I want to run.

I don’t however run away, despite how much I want to, I still hold it together.

Kylie pulls me aside to check up on me and hands me a drink, telling me to ‘get some!’ Despite the fact that we both have very different people in mind. 

Jordan, one of Vinnie’s friends walks up to me engaging in mindless conversation that's so clearly an attempt to find out who Tyler is or if “I’m seeing anyone.”

Despite that fact we have a pleasant conversation whilst I feel a pair of very familiar eyes burning into the back of my skull as I hug Jordan goodbye as people get ready for midnight.

Two blonde dudes come in holding a large sheet cake with 22 candles placed ever so gently on top.

Vinnie’s hand is wrapped around Allison who stares at him as if he’s the sun and the stars and his eyes stay on me, causing me to sweat. He grins as the cake is placed in front of him, straightening out his stupid little suit as everyone begins to sing.

As the song finishes everyone bursts into cheers as he blows out his candle as Allison grips onto him, his eyes leave the cake finding his girlfriend’s as she asks, “What did you wish for baby?”

He smiles, not saying a word as he looks back at me, “It’s a secret.”

That’s too much for me.

I maneuver around the drunk crowd, sprinting up the nearest stairs and into the first room, walking out onto the balcony and sitting down on the ground.

My world feels like it's out of orbit, everything just stopped. My head tips back on the glass balcony as I try to recollect my thoughts.

Stray tears fall onto my face, if he can do it for her, why couldn’t he have done it for me, is the only thought that swirls in my mind.

“Hey are you okay?” No no no.

I shut my eyes praying he’ll just go away, but he doesn’t, he never could. He sits down next to me, his body heat slipping on to me.

His hand rests on my shoulder, “Open your eyes” Vinnie’s voice whispers and like a marionette, I obliged.

My bloodshot teary eyes meet his as I turn my head as I move to wipe away my tears.

“Yes?” My voice breaks.

“Why are you crying?” He whispers, his gaze soft and his words even softer.

“Don’t do this, Vinnie.” I whisper, desperation evident in my voice.

“What pretty girl?”

And I cry all over again. I take in staggered breaths as his arms wrap around me. His hands soothe my skin as I crumble into his dumb suit.

I melt into his touch. I want to die like this, in his arms.

“I can’t do this, I don’t know why I came” I whisper as tears fall on my face and into his shirt.

“It’s my birthday… didn’t you want to be here?” He asks, his voice breaking a little as he pulls my face away, lifting up my chin to look at him.

His gaze drops to my lips for a moment as I snap out of it, immediately rising to my feet stepping into the room.

“No no we can’t do this” I whisper-yell at him, my hands crossed over my chest

“We’re not doing anything?” He looks bewildered, his eyebrows knit together

“We can’t be friends.. I-I can’t be here alone with you, your girlfriends downstairs!” My voice rises a little

His expression is the picturesque definition of pain, “Why not?”

“Because I spent years loving you and you threw it all away!” I yell my hand pointing at him

“I didn’t throw it away!” He raises his voice, stepping closer to me

“Oh yes you fucking did, and I was doing so good! I was forgetting about you!” I cry out, I step closer to him.

“I don’t want you to forget about me” His voice is expressionless, as he steps closer as we’re practically chest to chest

“I want to! You have a girlfriend” I slam my fist on his chest as his grabs my wrist

“Jesus were you always this fucking bossy when we were kids?” His eyes narrow, eyeing me

I roll my eyes and scoff, “Fuck. You.” 

He has the audacity to laugh, “You can try and forget me, get with that idiot you got here with- But never, tell me I threw us away, I loved you! I love you.” 

His voice softens ever so slightly, “I will never not love you, tell me to break up with Allison, I will, tell me to kick everyone out right now, I will. Whatever you want, tell me. I’m yours”

“I hate you. Leave.” I huff

He shakes his head, “Anything but that.” 

“Leave me like you left me 3 years ago and 2 months ago” I whisper

“No.” His voice is harsh and commanding

“Vinnie…”

“No.” His grasp on my hand doesn't falter and in fact his other hand grasps my other wrist.

My eyes narrow, please whatever scraps of self respect I have please kick in.

His pushes me back against the wall, my hands pinned either side of me as he places a kiss on the birthmark on my neck, “I’m never leaving you”

I shut my eyes, tipping my head back, please kick in, I beg.

“Open your eyes.” His voice rough and ragged

My eyes flutter open, meeting his blown out brown eyes.

Oh no.

His lips meet mine in a desperate kiss, his hand moves to grasp my waist as mine tangles in his hair. 

“We can’t” I whisper despite still kissing him back

“Just shut the fuck up” He groans as he bites down on my bottom lip

“You’re my worst addiction” He mumbles moving to kiss my neck

I whine, nails digging into his curly brown locks, “I hate you”

“I know my love” I murmurs against my skin, kissing every spot of my neck he can find before dipping down to my tits.

“Vinnie-”

“Yes.” His voice cuts mine off, his head tipping up, looking up at my eyes.

I shut my eyes, “Need you”

“What? Where? Tell me” He begs

“Need you to fuck me, rough” I whisper

He stops his kisses, moving to cup my face, “Whatever you want doll”.

He meets my lips in a rough kiss guiding me to the edge of the bed, pushing me down to sit.

“God you're so pretty, it makes me wanna ruin you sometimes” He whispers out, his voice rough as he moves a strand of my hair away from my face as he looks down at me.

He moves me further up the bed as he leans over me, pulling the buttons of his waist coat down but as he’s mid way he gets frustrated he just rips it off along with his shirt as he kisses me again.

His lips move in tandem with mine as he pulls the knot of my shirt, causing it to fall down.

“Mine” He whispers into the kiss, “Say it princess”

“Yours” I whine as he shuffles my skirt and panties off and unclasped my bra

“My perfect girl” He mumbles as he flips me over, smushing my face into the pillows

I can hear his belt clinking open and he shuffles out of his constricting dress pants and boxers

“S gonna hurt darling girl, just be good for me” He whispers as he kisses my spine as he slowly stretches me out

His hand pushes my head down into the pillow as his other hand rubs circles on my clit.

My toes curl up and my eyes roll back as he starts to slowly rut into me, “There she fucking is”

His grunts echo in the room as my muffled moans coat the pillow, “Cmon, you can take it won't you? You're just so good for me.”

His words tease me as he speeds up his pace, he pushes down my head to thrust deeper into me as his muscles flex around me.

“So fucking tight, s’ like you were made for me” He grits as he pulls my hair up as a ragged moan leaves my mouth

“Such a whore, so good for me aren’t ya?” He chuckles

I whine nodding my head as my mind is too cloudy to form words.

He slaps my ass illciting another pitchy moan from me, “Asked you a fucking question” 

“Mhm all for you” I mumble biting down on my lip

“God you don’t even know what you fucking do to me darling” He groans as his hand speeds up around my clit

“M close, Vin m close” I ramble like an idiot shutting my eyes

He slaps my ass again causing me to yell, “Beg for it gorgeous girl” 

“Please Vinnie” I crumble whining

He laughs at my sad attempt, “My good girl can do better than that can’t she?” 

“Please please I need it so bad, need you so bad” I mewl under him

His pace speeds up, “Yeah? Take it baby”

I cum with a loud moan as my eyes screw shut. I can feel Vinnie kiss along my spine, caressing the sides of my body.

He flips me over so I’m looking at him, his flexed biceps on either side of my face and his dumb chain dangling over my face.

He sinks in again as I whimper, “Can’t Vin” 

“Yes you can, you're so good, aren’t you?” His voice teases

I succumb to his words mindlessly nodding my head.

“That's right, you can take it and you fucking will.” He punctuates with a sharper thrust

The headboard slams against the wall against Vinnie’s impossible strength rutts into me.

One of my hands wraps around his bicep and the other holds onto his wrist as I pull it on to my neck.

His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Please?” I whisper

He chuckles as he squeezes around my neck using the grip to pound deeper into me as my eyes roll back as my cunt clenched around him.

“M’ gonna cum, can’t hold out, you just feel too fucking good” He whispers

I whine at that cumming around him without warning as I clench around him he finishes inside me.

We take a second to catch our breaths just lying there for a second.

He pulls out maneuvering us on the bed as he kisses my neck, “Not too much my love?”

“Never” I hum

He nuzzles into my neck as my back meets his chest, “Want me to break up with Allison?”

I take a second to process his question.

“Yes… but I don’t want to date you right now” I whisper

“I'll stay alone forever if it’ll make you happy princess” He hums 

“Good” I giggle

“God should've known you were heartache from the moment I met you” He chuckles as he falls asleep in the crook of my neck.

An inch? A mile? As long as it's Vinnie, for you its enough.

[peachdues]

Bundle of Joy

Part 1/2 of a secret-pregnancy drabble between Sanemi and the Reader, who is the Lunar Hashira (not the same one from TWAHM). Protective/soft Sanemi, but the other Hashira don't know he's the daddy.

CW: suggestive/smut, blood, pregnancy, difficult labor. Sanemi is a dick to everyone but is so soft for Y/N.

You can find Part Two here and the prequel one-shot here

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Pregnant, Kocho had said, you’re pregnant.

She had sat there for a moment, too stunned to say anything right away. Her eyes flitted between the gentle look on the Insect Hashira’s face and the results of the blood work clutched in her hand.

Pregnant.

In retrospect, Y/N knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Sanemi was a passionate lover, and she loved being the object of his passion, in both the bedroom and in those quiet, stolen moments shared at one another’s estates, away from prying eyes.

And sometimes, there were less-than-quiet moments where a certain someone had begged Sanemi to stay inside and give it to me, baby, please!

Okay, Y/N conceded, maybe those moments occurred more than sometimes (far more), and Sanemi had only been too happy to oblige her.

And so Y/N was pregnant.

“Well, that’s a surprise!” Y/N said with a soft chuckle, absent mindedly placing a hand over her flat stomach.

Kocho watched Y/N for a moment. “Y/N,” Y/N was surprised to hear Kocho refer to her by her first name, even more so when Kocho moved to place a hand over hers. “you are more than free to keep the child that comes from this pregnancy, or…” Kocho furrowed her eyebrows, struggling to phrase the information delicately, “we have things here that would terminate the pregnancy early. It would be painless.” She promised.

Y/N blinked in surprise. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but the thought of not letting the the child in her belly grow… no, she couldn’t do that.

“Thank you, Shinobu, truly,” Y/N squeezed her hand lightly. “But I wish to see this through.”

Kocho nodded, withdrawing her hand to reach for a stack of papers stacked besides her on the small exam table. “Well in that case, I will need to inform the Master right away. You can still perform some missions for now, but nothing too strenuous. The first few months of pregnancy are quite tricky.” Shinobu began scribbling down a message, but paused mid-word.

“Y/N… is the father… involved?”

Ah. That problem.

It wasn’t so much a problem for her and Sanemi as it was for everyone else. When they had finally given in to the simmering desire between them while training more than a year earlier, neither of them had intended for it to continue. But one time had not been nearly enough, and suddenly, Y/N had found herself craving his voice, his touch, and his lips, and he, hers. It had not taken long for them to realize how ridiculously, stupidly in love they were.

But they had both agreed to not tell the other Hashira — or anyone — about their affair. The decision mostly stemmed from practicality; the Master, while he did not oppose relationships amongst the Hashira, did have a practice of not pairing them up together once their relationship was made public. The Master believed, ultimately, it was too risky, as both would seek to protect the other, potentially to the detriment of civilians and other slayers alike.

It was a rational justification, but it did little to stifle the electricity which cackled between the two Pillars. It held little weight against the stony will of Sanemi Shinuzagawa.

Sanemi had been the first one to crack during an intense sparring session. He had caught Y/N off guard after she had dodged an attack, using the wind to pitch himself into her blind spot and sweep her shapely legs from beneath her.

But Y/N had never been one to go down without a fight, so she had wound the Wind Pillar’s haori around her fist mid-fall, and successfully brought him right down with her.

On top of her.

Sanemi had fallen with a grunt, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he realized Y/N had still managed to out-maneuver him, even after he had bested her. His full weight upon her, he had stared at her with a bewildered look in his eyes, breathing hard out of his nose as he struggled to collect himself.

His eyes flitted down once to Y/N’s fist, still wrapped in his haori, before they had lifted back up to her mouth, settling on that stupid, shit-eating smirk she had.

There had been no thoughts in Sanemi’s head as he crashed his mouth against hers in a flurry of lips and teeth.

Y/N had been frozen for half a second before she snapped back into herself and hauled him closer, meeting each demanding swipe of his tongue stroke for stroke.

Within minutes both of of the Pillars’ clothing had been reduced to shreds, and Sanemi’s head had found a home between Y/N’s legs. It had taken embarrassingly little effort on his part to bring her over the edge not once, but twice.

And when he finally flipped her on all fours and rammed his proud length into her desperate core, Y/N had come apart again, half-sobbing his surname as pleasure mixed with pain from overstimulation.

“You know my fuckin’ name. Use it.” He had snarled in between the ruthless snapping of his hips against her.

That night, Shinazugawa had made sure Y/N could only say one word:

Sanemi. Sanemi. Sanemi.

And when it was finally over, and the two had collapsed next to each other on the dirt ground of his training ring, spent and satisfied, Sanemi had told the sweaty Lunar Pillar that she was to report to his Mansion for training sessions forthwith.

Nightly training sessions.

Because one taste had ignited an inferno of desire between the two of them that could not be snuffed out. It could only be tamed when Y/N’s fingers buried themselves in his hair as his own tight grip on her hips and thighs left marks on her skin, his hips setting a relentless and savage pace as he rutted into her, wanton and needy. A fire that could only be soothed when Sanemi sent her hurtling over the edge of her pleasure and found himself free-falling after her, spilling himself inside her warmth until she was filled with nothing but him.

It had not been long before the emotional passion followed their more carnal desires. Y/N had known she was in deep when she had confessed to him her deepest fears of not living past the age of her elder brother and falling to demons the same way he had. She knew he felt the same way when, in the middle of the night, having been startled awake from some unseen terrors in his mind, he stopped leaving the futon they shared to sit out on the engawa stare up at the moon, instead seeking the comfort of her embrace, burying his nose into her hair as he willed his heartbeat to slow.

And so, for more than a year, the two Hashira had kept up the charade of being disinterested co-workers in public, concealing their endless passion, adoration, and concern for one another that they held in private. It appeared that none of the other Pillars were any the wiser.

The only difficulty now would be in how to tell him the news.

She would tell him, of course, the moment she returned to his estate in the dead of night, when she knew the other Hashira would be sleeping or out on patrol, far away from the grounds of Sanemi’s manor. Y/N would tell him, and then they would decide how to move forward, together.

Sanemi, who was so strong, so capable, was also so, so protective. He knew that Y/N was more than capable of handling herself on missions, but too much personal tragedy had scarred him and he found himself unable to leave her completely alone. Even if she had been assigned to complete what was technically a solo mission, Sanemi was always within a few miles to rush to her aid, should she need it. And Y/N was the same way with him. A true team, who could and would figure out how to deal with any obstacle.

But until then…

Y/N smiled, attempting to reassure Shinobu. “I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Shinobu, truly.”

Shinobu pursed her lips, debating whether to push her friend further on the matter. It wasn’t her place to pry, true, but she couldn’t help but worry.

While Shinobu knew Y/N could handle herself— very well — she also knew how it was to be a woman in society. Men were relentless in their pursuit of forcing women to do things against their will; their destructive creativity knew no bounds.

But Shinobu also knew that pushing any woman in such a situation could make her clam up, could make her resist help — or even treatment. So, Shinobu resolved to keep quiet for now, but to keep a close eye on Y/N throughout her pregnancy.

Had she known at the time of the Insect Pillar’s concerns, Y/N would have fallen off of Shinobu’s examination table in a fit of hysterics. The idea that Sanemi, Mr. Made-Madea-Piss-Himself-for-Harassing-a-Young-Slayer, would ever do anything she hadn’t wanted him to do was laughable — as if he didn’t have her begging and pleading for him to do more to her every night.

But Y/N didn’t know, and so she left the Butterfly Mansion without another word. Shinobu sent off her crow to the Master with the Lunar Pillar’s news, pulling Aoi aside to instruct her to monitor the pregnant woman throughout the upcoming months for anything amiss — bruises, unexplained injuries, general skittishness — and to report it immediately to her.

Shinobu may not have known the circumstances of Y/N’s pregnancy, but she did know she would not let harm come to her or her growing child.

———————

Sanemi had wept like a baby when Y/N told him that night.

The man who looked as though he were stone hewn by the wind itself fell to his knees and cried like Y/N had never seen before. He pressed his forehead against the flat expanse of her stomach, raining soft kisses across her abdomen as he held his love close.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered, between the pressing of his lips against her skin while she ran her fingers through his windswept hair, “Thank you for this gift.”

After Sanemi wiped his eyes, he made sure to spend the rest of the night showing Y/N exactly how grateful he was, though with a newfound gentleness. Sanemi typically took her roughly in a way that had Y/N’s eyes rolling back into her head, begging desperately for more. That night, however, he had treated her with such softness and love that it nearly shattered her heart. He had spent the entirety of the night holding her tightly against him, her name falling like a prayer from his lips while he gently rocked into her, whispering how beautiful she was and would look as she grew his child.

The next morning was not as beautiful.

“You’re retiring.” He said sternly as he poured her tea first, then his.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N retorted evenly, “Kocho said I could take low-risk missions until my next appointment with her, and that she would reassess her recommendation then.”

Sanemi stopped pouring his tea, setting the pot down a touch too hard. “Y/N. The first few months of pregnancy are when the mother is the most at risk for losing the child. I will not have you putting yourself in situations where that is a very real possibility.” He reached for her hand, closed in a fist on the table. “I…” he struggled to find his words. “I watched my mother… lose a few pregnancies at the hands of my father,” he spat the last word, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were tender; pleading. “I do not want to see you suffer through the pain that she did.”

Y/N softened at that revelation. She had known about Sanemi’s painful childhood, but the news about his mother’s lost pregnancies was new.

But this was different. She was a Hashira, not a housewife.

“This is… our thing, right now, isn’t it?” Y/N asked lightly, holding her steaming cup of jasmine tea between her hands, relishing in its comforting warmth. Sanemi said nothing but nodded, as he waited for her to continue.

“I’m not ready to share us with the world just yet."

Sanemi’s lips tightened, and his eyes fell to the floor. “Are you…unhappy with this news? He asked quietly. “Do you… feel ashamed… of…” His voice trailed off, but Y/N heard what he was asking all the same.

Ashamed of me?

Y/N’s head snapped up, and within a flash she was on her knees before him, clasping his large hand between her smaller ones. Sanemi kept his eyes resolutely on the floor rather than meet her piercing gaze, and Y/N tightened her grip.

“I need you to look at me when I tell you this,” she tugged lightly on his hand. Slowly, his eyes lifted from the floor and rested on her face, and Y/N’s heart clenched at the softness she saw reflected in his lilac gaze.

“I love you.” Y/N said simply, a small smile tugging on the corner of her pretty mouth. “I love you and I love our child. I thank the stars every day for you.” Sanemi’s breath caught in his chest at her words, and his hand returned her squeeze.

“But as you said, the first few months of pregnancy are difficult. I don’t want this news out before we’re ready to share it, especially in case of,-“ Y/N shut her eyes briefly, trying to shake away the encroaching panic she felt at the idea of losing the child growing in her womb. “In case something happens.” She managed.

“But if I retire now, there will be questions that I’m not ready to answer.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, feeling slightly guilty about the show she was about to put on. “But I need you to trust Shinobu’s medical opinion on this. To trust me.” Y/N pleaded, bringing his callused hand to her lips, brushing soft kisses over his scarred knuckles. “I need you to trust that I know my limits.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa would never admit it, but he was a sucker for Y/N’s pretty face. A bat of her eyelashes and a nuzzle of her face into his hand brought him to his knees in an instant.

“No dangerous missions. Minor demons only. Cleanup. That’s it.” Sanemi proposed, his voice gruff.

Y/N knew, of course, that Sanemi would still find a way to shadow her whenever she would be sent on a mission close enough to his location, and to be honest, she couldn’t blame him. After all, it was his child she carried. But he was willing to compromise — to try — for her.

So Y/N smiled. “Deal.”

———————————-

Pregnancy had generally been uneventful.

Shinobu had insisted at the start of Y/N’s second trimester that she abstain from future slaying missions (much to her chagrin and Sanemi’s joy), but she encouraged Y/N to continue training under the supervision of the girls at the Butterfly Mansion in order to maintain her abilities.

Of course, once missions were off the table, Y/N knew she had to come clean to the other Hashira.

Almost clean.

She had told them the essentials — she was with child and she was keeping it. Y/N and Sanemi had already agreed not to share that he was the child’s father, again out of concern that once the child had been delivered, the two would never again be permitted to share missions together.

To the other Pillars’ credit, no one pushed her for paternity details. Y/N suspected that Shinobu had shared her hypothesis with them, that the father at best was uninvolved, at worst, might attempt to do harm to her if he knew.

Sanemi said nothing in his own defense, and even talked Y/N down from screaming at the lot of them on his behalf. He informed her that as a result of Shinobu, the other Hashira had formed a little pact to protect both Y/N and her (their) unborn child at all costs.

Sanemi found great relief in this, given that he was still being sent on missions. The promise among the other Pillars meant someone was watching over Y/N at all times, should she ever need assistance. And, because he had also agreed to partake in this pact, Sanemi was guaranteed alone time with Y/N at her estate, without the added pressure of sneaking around the other Pillars. Thus, he had been content to sit back and keep the knowledge that she carried his child close to his chest.

And Sanemi had been so attentive to Y/N throughout the months of her pregnancy. He constantly worried about her comfort and sought to make pregnancy as easy as possible. He awoke at all hours of the night to fix something that would satisfy her insane cravings. He would arrive home from missions and kiss her so sweetly, Y/N thought her heart would burst, before pressing his ear against the growing swell of her belly to listen to his child’s small heartbeat and lavish Y/N with kisses and soft praises. In the later months of her pregnancy, he would be sure to rotate Y/N’s sleeping form throughout the night to ensure she wouldn’t wake up in pain or discomfort.

And throughout it all, he maintained his passionate physical love for her, though more gently so as not to risk hurting Y/N or their child. But he worshipped her body with such fervor that it often reduced Y/N to tears.

When Sanemi was away, the other Hashira took turns keeping Y/N company, and each Pillar took on a special role for her. Uzui and his wives showered her with new clothes, fitted to accommodate her growing belly, and the wives lauded her with compliments. Mitsuri had become her meal-time buddy, the two of them nearly eating their way through the entire pantry stock of both their mansions in a single evening.

And so, pregnancy itself, had been easy.

Labor, when it arrived, was an entirely different matter.

Labor hurt.

Y/N had known something was wrong the moment her water had burst, having barely registered the wetness that slipped down her legs due to the agony that followed, leaving Y/N feeling as though she was being ripped open from the inside.

Y/N’s ears rang with a scream she had not realized was her own until she felt her throat burn. Her knees buckled, and she would have hit the ground had Uzui and Rengoku not materialized out of thin air, having noticed her from across the courtyard outside of her estate. The pair stood on either side, working to catch her before her knees could bite into the rocks below.

“We need to get her to Kocho, right away,” Uzui said to Rengoku. “I can run ahead and let the Butterfly Mansion know we’re coming. Can you get her there?” The Sound Hashira asked Rengoku, who nodded.

“Come, Y/L/N, I’ll take care of you,” Rengoku said warmly, lifting her up into his arms before taking off at a break-neck speed. Y/N clutched the front of his robes, hissing as another wave of excruciating pain washed through her.

“Sorry- ah— Rengoku, I might tear your uniform.” Y/N said through gritted teeth, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.

Regoku’s deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “No worries, Y/L/N! I have plenty of uniforms. He glanced down at his friend, a comforting smile tugging on his lips, “You do what you need to do to help manage the pain.” He added kindly.

Y/N held onto the Flame Pillar’s robes for dear life, as she tried to keep herself from crying out, head falling against her friend’s chest. Above them, a raven circled once, twice, before heading east, its wings beating frantically.

The Butterfly Mansion had just come into sight when the unmistakable scent of iron hit Y/N’s nose. She tried to sit up in Rengoku’s arms to look over the large swell of her stomach, panic beginning to spread through her chest. Before she could confirm the source of the smell, Y/N collapsed back into Rengoku’s arms.

“Is-is that-?” Y/N trembled, her voice unusually high.

Rengoku’s nostrils flared slightly as he too, took notice of the scent. He only had to tilt his head slightly to the side to see below Y/N’s pregnant belly, his expression grim.

“Kyojuro,” Y/N whimpered, her grip on the front of his uniform slackening.

Rengoku turned his gaze back to Y/N’s, his expression soft and comforting as a kind smile chased away whatever shadow had been there.

“You are doing so well, Y/L/N! Truly! You will deliver this child in no time.” He said warmly, the hand holding her against him squeezing reassuringly.

Y/N may have been in blinding pain, but she did not fail to notice how the Flame Pillar clutched her tighter to him, his pace quickening as he sped towards the Butterfly Mansion.

Rengoku had all but leapt the last length of their journey, swiftly landing at the entrance to Kocho’s residence. The Insect Pillar was already waiting outside for them, alongside Uzui and a small team of Butterfly Mansion girls who were prepared to open doors and clear hallways for them.

“Come with me,” Shinobu ordered the moment Rengoku’s feet touched the ground, her eyes scanning over Y/N’s ashen face. Shinobu’s gaze snagged at the bloodstain spreading across the lower middle of the light cotton kimono Y/N wore.

Wordlessly, the small group of Hashira swept through the halls of the Butterfly House, escorted by Shinobu’s staff. The Insect Pillar drew up short outside of a small room in the back of the main hallway, urgently motioning Rengoku through the doorway.

“Uzui, grab Y/N’s legs. Rengoku, move your arms to support under her ribs,” Shinobu ordered the two men as she dunked her hands in a bucket of cold, soapy water, quickly scrubbing at her skin. “You both need to work together to lower her onto the birthing bed.” Shinobu pointedly looked to the small, white futon that lay in the middle of the wooden floor, its blankets already pulled back in anticipation of the pregnant woman now panting in Rengoku’s arms.

The pain in her lower belly was unbearable, and Y/N could not stop herself from crying out as she felt the two male Pillars gently readjust her so they could lower her as Shinobu ordered. Hot tears clung to her eyelashes as she gasped out, breathing becoming difficult through the haze of the pain.

Shinobu, having finished cleaning her hands, moved to kneel at Y/N’s feet. The Insect Pillar adjusted the futon’s cotton blanket to cover Y/N from the waist-down before gently spreading her legs and propping them up on either side of her.

“Y/N,” Shinobu said firmly, rolling up the bottom of the futon blanket to Y/N’s knees so she could examine her friend. “Y/N, you need to get your breathing under control. Your distress is affecting your body’s ability to heal, and it will harm the child.”

Y/N whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek. Eyes closing, Y/N took a shuddering breath, willing her heart to slow its wild thumping in her chest and her body to relax. She managed for all of two breaths before another wave of pain rocked through her, causing her to cry out.

“Dammit,” Shinobu swore, as a fresh wave of blood spilled from between Y/N’s legs, staining her trembling thighs crimson. Both Uzui and Rengoku stood back behind Y/N’s head, their eyes wide as the smell of blood hit them.

Shinobu wracked her brain, trying to think of something, anything, that would help her friend calm down enough to get her breathing under control, to get her body to stop fighting her labor.

“Y/N, does the father know? Does he know the child is coming?” Shinobu blurted, as she tried to wipe away the blood that was rapidly pooling beneath Y/N’s center.

It had taken a moment for Shinobu’s words to fully register in Y/N’s mind. Her heart stuttered as she remembered that Sanemi was on a mission, at least half a day’s journey from the Butterfly Mansion.

Y/N’s eyes filled with fresh tears not from the endless pain, but from the realization that Sanemi might not make it here in time, might not make it before she…

“He’s t-too far.” Y/N half-sobbed, back bowing off the futon as her body seized with the strain of labor, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to breathe through the contraction.

Uzui stepped forward from his spot against the back wall. “Nothing is too far for me, Y/N” he said gently, “tell me where he is, and I can get him here in a flash.”

Shinobu nodded, patting Y/N’s knee comfortingly. “Where is he, Y/N? Does he live in a village nearby?”

Y/N shook her head furiously, her mouth opening to respond, but only a choked sob came out.

Shinobu pressed. “Y/N, you must tell Uzui his name, or else he won’t be able to bring him back.” Shinobu motioned for one of the Butterfly Mansion’s young girls to bring over a damp towel to dab at Y/N’s burning forehead. 

“Who is the child’s father, Y/N?” Shinobu repeated.

“It’s — fuck,” she hissed, her stomach feeling as if it were about to split open. “S-SANEMI.” She called out, body curling off the futon before collapsing against it once more, feeling exhaustion settling in over her bones, threatening to take over her consciousness.

The room was silent — dead silent — for a moment. Shinobu looked up to the two Male Pillars, her jaw slackened and her eyes wide, her shock mirroring that of both her comrades.

It had taken each Pillar another moment to re-correct themselves. Shinobu locked eyes with Aoi, a similar stunned look on her face, and silently ordered her to take up her position at Y/N’s feet. Once Aoi had knelt, Shinobu rose, and the other two Hashira swiftly exited the room, the former pulling the door to the birthing room behind her shut.

“No fucking way Shinazugawa is the father,” Uzui had hissed the moment the birthing room door had latched, his magenta eyes wild. “I can’t believe someone like Y/N would willingly have a child with that snarky little bitch.”

“You are not suggesting that Shinazugawa may have forced himself on Y/N, are you Tengen?” Rengoku asked quietly.

Uzui shook his head, scoffing slightly. “No. But I do think it's weird that she kept it a secret until the last possible second,” Uzui ran a hand through his hair, anxiously. “And he never said a damn word about it either. Maybe something happened that shouldn’t have. Maybe he feels ashamed.”

Rengoku eyed Shinobu, whose mouth had been pulled into a deep frown, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the Sound Pillar in deep thought. “Kocho? What should we do?” 

Shinobu also did not believe Shinazugawa would ever force himself upon a woman, but she could not deny the unease she felt at the revelation that Y/N had concealed the identity of the child’s father. “Go get Shinazugawa, Rengoku.” She said softly, “Uzui, you stay here. Shinazugawa is fast enough on his own. I want you here to guard the door.”

Rengoku looked quizzically at his tiny friend, but she said nothing more and so he hid the pair farewell and took off into the night.

“Guard?” Uzui asked, puzzled.

Shinobu pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closing as a dull ache bloomed through her skull. “Unless and until Y/N asks for him, I want him kept out. I don’t imagine he would be a very calming presence.” Shinobu grimaced. “Frankly, I don’t have the patience to handle him right now. I need to keep her calm.”

Uzui nodded, moving only to send a crow for the Water Hashira to come assist. He leaned casually against the frame of the door once Shinobu had closed it back behind her, shaking his head lightly. Really, Y/N? He chastised, internally, Shinazugawa?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Keep an eye out for Part 2 if you want to see Sanemi be both feral and the softest boy.

[caeliuluru]

reciprocity, the heart

Summary: You get married to your lover, Xavier, an alpha. The both of you bask in the afterglow of your wedding night. Tags: alpha xavier/omega MC, top xavier/bottom MC, female MC, aftercare, FLUFF, but implied (although very obviously referenced) bedroom activities, implied subspace on MC's part

Pure bliss is all you can feel in the afterglow— your heartbeat in sync with Xavier’s, breaths intermingling in the space of your bedroom. Your hands run down the long, red marks you’ve left on your husband’s back as a result of your lovemaking, while he plants gentle kisses along the fresh bond mark on the side of your neck. 

“Alpha… Xavier…” you whine softly. You’re still coming down from the very high cloud he’s sent you to, mind all hazy and too pleasured to think straight. 

He smiles against your skin, satisfied. “Still sensitive, love?” Another nuzzle across the space between your neck and shoulder. He moves his hands across your sides, soothing you as his knot deflates. The air thrums with the affection between you both. He’s pleased, the smell of lavender and cedarwood in the air. The two of you spend a few more moments in comfortable silence before he decides to move again. 

“I’ll pull out now, okay?” You nod, and you smile at him, dazed, but very much relieved. 

A soft moan leaves your lips as he parts from you, shared release sticking to both your bodies and dripping to the towel you left on the bed. Your hand shifts to squeeze his, trying to ground yourself. God knows what time it is— after all the guests had left and had given their well-wishes, the two of you rushed to the hotel room, with matching rings on your fingers. The nearby late-night cafes near your suite had quieted down, and the few city lights from the window and your nightlamp cast their gentle light across your face.

You’re beautiful, he thinks. He lifts your hand to plant a kiss on your palm. It’s a stroke of luck written in the stars— to see every expression and version of you. He promised to find you in every lifetime, and he’s still in disbelief— you’re right here in front of him. Whether you’re breathless and blissed out, or composed and focused, you’re beautiful. Xavier doesn’t think he deserves the way you look at him— like he’s hung the moon and stars just for you. He would, had he the power to. For now, he can promise this: he’ll protect you, take care of you, and hold you close for as long as he can. The mark and the ring is a promise to make you happy for the rest of your time together. This time, he’s staying by your side.

His eyes sparkle with so much love that you’re taken aback for a moment. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. So instead of asking, you press your lips to his in a passionate kiss, and he chuckles, kissing back.

I don’t deserve this. And yet, you chose him.

“My pretty,” a kiss to your forehead. “Gorgeous,” another to your cheekbone. “Girl.” Right cheek. “My love.” A sweet kiss on your lips. “My star,” Another right on the tip of your nose. “My wife, so good for me.”

“Xavier…” you pull your lover in for a hug, wanting to remain near him. You sigh as you breathe in his scent. If this is what it’s like to be bonded— claimed for life— then you don’t want to let go.

He brings his hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek, and smiles. Because just as much as he loves to bring you to heaven, he’ll be your ground, take you down safely.

“I’ll get you water, okay? Then after that, I’ll draw us a bath, and get you clean. How does that sound?” The words settle into your mind, sinking, before you finally comprehend them and nod. He kisses your palm again before he gets up slowly and leaves for the kitchen.

A few minutes pass. As the fog begins to clear, the stickiness between your legs becomes much more apparent to you.

Ah… what a mess.

And Xavier… he’d come back, wouldn’t he? The air feels too cold, all of a sudden, and you feel a dull ache in your limbs. You stretch your arms a little, adjusting our position on the bed so you can sit up. But you know you couldn’t stand if you tried. Where is he? You want to hold him, and be held in return while your brain is still on its way down from the high you’ve experienced. The left side of your neck stings a little, and you hiss when you touch it briefly.

Right on time, your husband comes into your shared bedroom with a jug of cold water. A look of worry crosses his face, and he immediately moves closer to check on you.

“Are you… hurt? Was I too rough?”

You shake your head and cough before you start speaking. You really could use the water that Xavier brought. “It’s nothing… the mark just hurts a little, but I’m okay. My fault for touching it when it’s fresh.” Knowing how he gets, you give him a reassuring smile.

The frown remains.

“Xavi, I’m okay, I promise.”

To calm him down, you rub your nose lightly against his and release some of your scent pheromones. The familiar blend of vanilla and lavender is a a warm blanket over his worry, wrapping around it and letting him know you really are alright.

“I’ll get you some ointment later,” he quietly says. Sometimes you think he worries too much about you, but nonetheless, you appreciate his care. It’s cute, and very much Xavier, how he still looks out for you in times like these. Xavier then lifts the jug to your lips, and you take the cue, drinking from it. “Careful now, don’t drink too fast.” He lets go of the jug once you grip it yourself. As you drink, he gazes at you fondly, hand lifting to smooth your hair a little. You don’t need to look in the mirror to see that you’re wrecked, love bites all over you, but unbeknownst to you, you’re a picture of satisfaction. Xavier glances at the mirror, then back at you. So, so pretty. My mate. All mine. Does she know I’m all hers?

From the corner of his eye, he spots the mark he asked you to leave on him. It’s not going to last, an Omega doesn’t have the same canines an Alpha does. But it doesn’t matter. He wants you to know he’s all yours just as much as you’re his.

When you’re finished, you set the almost-empty jug on the side table. “Ready?” Xavier reaches out a hand to you and asks. Confused, your eyebrows knit together, wondering if he really did expect you to be able to walk after he essentially pummeled you into the bed.

“I mean, I can try walking— wait!”

Suddenly, his hand loops around your legs and torso, lifting you in a bridal carry, and the two of you laugh as he brings you to the bathroom.

“Idiot.” Your eyes crinkle as you tease him. “Making me think that I’d have to walk when you know I can’t.” Xavier smiles cheekily and sets you down on the edge of the bathtub before grabbing a washcloth, bringing it under the sink. “I’d never do anything of the sort. Now that I’m your husband, you should always presume kindness on my part,” he quips.

“Do you want me to clean you up or would you rather do it yourself?” Always mindful, always caring of your boundaries, even if he wants nothing more than to be close to you.

“I don’t mind. C’mere.”

He then brings the washcloth to your center, cleaning up the worst of the mess. He runs the rag gently, eyes growing just a shade darker as he cleans the evidence of your… previous activities. Cute.

“You’re trying not to laugh.”

“Am not.” You stifle another giggle.

“Mhm. Just as much as hotpot is served cold and you stop staying up late .”

The corners of your lips turn up in a grin Xavier knows all too well. “And the reason why I’m up late tonight is right in front of me!” At that, you squish his face, gently shaking his head. Even if his face is puffed up because of you, his blue eyes gleam with a joy that’s reserved for when he sees you happy.

After you let go of him, he swipes your inner thighs a few more times, then quickly turns to get the bath ready.

You watch him, pouring the bubble bath mix into the water. My alpha, you think. Xavier is all strong and aloof on the outside, when he’s out on missions with you. People at the Association marvel at his mysterious aura and skill in killing Wanderers. Whether or not he clocks in at HQ, you hear people talk about him, about how the Association’s poster boy is so handsome, but barely mingles, asking questions like “How hard does he train?” and “Does he have a partner?” They don’t even know about the off-the-clock trips he takes to the No-Hunt Zone. And now, said most feared hunter is married and mated to you, preparing a bubble bath, making sure the water isn’t too cold nor hot. He reminds you to take breaks, and invites you to read comic books and stargaze when you can’t sleep. Of course, you can’t forget about how he brings you pleasure and pain in equal measure, right where you want it, and takes you back to Earth after. The dim light of the bathroom and the sound of running water add to the lull of the scene. A warm, fuzzy feeling rises in your chest, and you gaze fondly at him. My mate. Does he know how lovely he is?

Absentmindedly, you reach out to trace the scratches on his back, as if to remind yourself that the man you’ve been thinking about is very much real and in front of you.

“Ow,” he shifts slightly. Oops. As an apology, you kiss the red marks softly. “Sorry…”

“It didn’t hurt that much.” “Still. I was just… lost in thought, or something.” He closes the tap, and the two of you get in the bathtub. You adjust to make room for him, backside facing his chest. In the water, his hands automatically wrap around your waist, and he kisses your bond mark again. The two of you ease back into the comfortable lull a shared night bath provides. It’s warm and quiet, the water on your skin refreshing. You sigh. All is right in the world.

“Are you okay?” Xavier pipes up.

“Mhm. Good. Very good, in fact.” You lean back on his shoulder as you soak, trying not to fall asleep as Xavier nuzzles into your neck.

After a while, he squeezes your hands to rouse you from your semi-nap. He adjusts and sits up, grabbing the shower head and shampoo to wash your hair. His hands are firm, yet they rub your scalp in a way that makes you shut your eyes in calm bliss. When he finishes, you turn around to take the showerhead from him.

“Could I… wash your hair too?”

Your partner’s eyes crinkle as he lets out an airy laugh, because of course you’d ask, never content with being the only one doted on in the relationship; it’s fair that you show him how much you love him as well. He hums as you lather the shampoo in his scalp, fingers applying just the right amount of pressure, and right here, he thinks, is home. Anywhere you are is where he’s happy, content — whether the two of you are in the regular life-or-death situations you subject yourselves to as Hunters or are out relishing time as normal people, passing by the park on the way home from a busy day, having dinner together— and now you’re bound together for the rest of your life.

“I love you,” he says softly, and leans his head back.

“Sappy.” You chuckle, and kiss the matching mark on his neck,

“Isn’t it normal for a husband to tell his wife that he loves her?” Oh. There it is, the pout and the puppy dog eyes you know so well.

You wash off the last of the suds from his silvery hair and acquiesce to your adorable husband. “Okay, okay. I love you too.”

The water’s gone cold already, and Xavier kisses your temple before he leaves the tub. You soak for a few more moments before he returns, dressed, carrying with him one of his shirts, your underwear, and pajamas. He carefully dries you off, making sure the towel is especially gentle around your bond mark, and dresses you before carrying you back to the bed. The towel you’ve used and the top bedsheet are in a pile somewhere in one of the suite’s closets, and his suit and your gown are folded somewhere on top of the luggage. He sets you gently on the plush bed, before pulling the covers over you and himself. On instinct, you snuggle into him, cozy.

“Xavier, thank you.”

He responds by pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head. “I should be thanking you.”

“If we keep this up, we’ll never stop.”

“Isn’t that why we got married?” He hums thoughtfully, this time another song, one he had played for you on the piano years ago, as he strokes your hair.

You pull yourself up, nuzzling and sniffing at his neck sleepily.

“I still smell like you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “Mhm, I just… want you near.”

Any more closer and Xavier is positive that you’ll merge yourself into him, but he remains silent, as maybe the idea doesn’t sound bad at all.

By a stroke of luck, the stars aligned to bring them together, him and his starlight. Your breathing slows as you begin to fall asleep.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smile. “I love you too, Xavier.”

The two of you drift into the land of dreams.

A/N: this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever published. man. anyway stay hydrated friends. merry christmas :3

dividers from @cafekitsune ~