#is perfectly delightfully hot

[monicahar]

“my wife.”

how they address you. why does it make your heart skip a beat each time?

characters; neuvillette, wriothesley

—female pronouns obvi, aaaa this is so random😭 fluff, tad bit of crack, has suggestive themes/dirty jokes cause that's my humor in general, just tryna get into writing again heehaa don't mind me ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ

NEUVILETTE always accompanies the term with unmatched affection. it rolls off his tongue perfectly like a match made in heaven, coupled with the serene image of you instantaneously appearing in his mind before he even thinks of the uttering the endearing term. he still finds it surreal that you are both even lawfully married, yet the way he calls you his wife is already on instinct. is it too presumptuous of him?

well, in the end, he can't find any means to worry about it when you seem to equally adore the nickname.

“ooohh, say it again, say it again!”

he can't tell whether he married a child or not, but he still obliges your request and calls you his wife affectionately once more.

meanwhile, furina nearly gags everytime she hears him say it so softly—like using any other tone when referring to you would land him in the hands of the fortress of meropide. sure—she might've been the one who set up both of you—but the drama and thrill akin to watching a romance film has delightfully ended, and she can only meddle so much in marital matters. the iudex just might actually have her head in a platter if she were to do anything mischievous at that point.

but while a happy neuvillette is running around announcing 'my wife' this and 'my wife' that, you are currently stuck on what to call him in return, sadly enough.

“at this point, i think i'm just going to call you daddy.”

it was unfortunate with the way he choked on some of the water he was drinking—well, thank goodness he didn't spill much as before. for this wasn't the first time you said something unprompted while he was in peace with his water���he can only internally sigh.

“and what exactly has influenced you to arrive at such a conclusion, my wife?” he does not miss the tiny shudder of your body that followed the endearment. your face burns a tad bit at that, and he softly chuckles.

“your effect on me is no joke, you know?” you pout at his amused smile, “the way you refer to me so sweetly makes me want to call you my dearest husband everytime.”

“i don't recall voicing any complaints. is something else holding you back from doing so?”

you nod solemnly in agreement at that, which prompts him to raise a brow in mild curiousity.

“thing is, i really like calling you by your first name. same with monsieur neuvilette. there's something mildly erotic within it—you get what i mean, hehehe...” he only stares at you, clearly unimpressed, and a bit concerned at the implication. you clear your throat, apologizing under your breath.

“still—it's such a devastating predicament to be unable to choose between the three.” you sigh defeatedly, moving to slump your entire weight on his lap. you mutter, “my dearest husband monsieur neuvillette...mmm, no, that's too long.”

chuckling at your dramatic antics, he plants a soothing hand on your waist, the other fixing your wrinkled clothing as you practically melt against his hold. “and you thought settling on daddy was the appropriate option?”

“i'm not hearing any objections.” you jest, feeling cheeky.

“please refrain from calling me such a thing in the eyes of the public atleast.”

“...huh? you're actually allowing it??”

WRIOTHESLEY on the other hand, says it as if he's flaunting. it leaves his lips like a taunt each time, indirectly telling the other party 'i have a hot wife and you dont' even though most of the time the people he mentions you to don't even know what you actually look like. it's silly, childish even, but you still love it nonetheless.

sigewinne and the other inmates have collectively told you that ever since you got married, he has never uttered your actual name to anyone else. some find it weird, some find it somehow disrespectful, and some are now convinced he's crazily obsessed with you, and now he's showing it off every chance he gets, much to everyone's dismay.

it's arrived to the point where a small percentage of people have actually forgotten about your name, and now refer to you as the duke's wife, or even duchess, to which you made a face at. that's kind of pushing it by then.

anywho, in the end, it's funny and endearing, maybe even makes you a bit giddy, but there is no way you're telling him that. the situation might escalate even more if possible.

“you know, my wife is very mean to me today.”

as a pair of strong yet gentle arms wrap around your waist, you resist the growing smile on your face, deciding to mess with your husband for a bit.

“is that so?” you continue your chores without a care in the world. he huffs.

“mhm. she won't look me in the eye the whole day, even though she seemed sooo happy last night.” face instantly burning, you hiss as you slap his arm in a fit of embarrassment, pulling a hearty chuckle from the man behind you.

“—and now she's hitting me as well. i can't believe this.” you both know very well he was not fazed in the slightest bit.

“if her husband wasn't such a pervert then maybe—”

his facade cracks as he forces out an awkward laugh, “hey now, baby, you know i'm nothing like that.”

“wriothesley.”

he clears his throat awkwardly, “okay, maybe a little. it's exclusive for you though! my wife doesn't have to be so mean about it, you're making me reallyyy sad here, y'know?”

there it is again, you think. that nickname. that damned word that makes you want to turn around and smash your lips against his and—wait, hold yourself together! don't forget the reason you're being cold to him!

“you deserve to feel remorse. i've been struggling to even move the whole day because of you.”

you go rigid.

you didn't mean for that to come out so bitter...oh no.

“oh. so that's what this is about.” you don't even have to turn around to know that there's a smug look on his stupidly handsome face, his grip on your waist turning into soothing circles as he presses a kiss to your neck.

“if my wife wanted a massage, she could've just said so.” it's husky when it leaves his mouth, leaving you to shiver with the chills he enunciates.

flustered, you completely disregard the way your knees buckle at the endearment laced with that low voice of his, hitting his arm once more, earning a tiny 'ouch' from him.

“pervert. i want rest, not another round!”

“heh, i didn't say anything about another round, my perverted wife.”

“you—” you are abrupt cut off as you yelp in surprise when your feet are raised off the ground, your face now much closer to your husband's as he carries you gently in his arms.

“shhh, just let me take you to bed. if my wife was feeling terrible the whole day, she should've just told me in the first place so she could stay in, don't you think?”

he's right, but you're still angry. “shut up.”

“just letting you know i'm not completely at fault, wife.” you attempt to ignore the furious beating of your heart, face burning at his smug expression. “i'm not the only one who wanted it.”

hsr version...? if i feel like it...🤔🤔

[astralnymphh]

18+ ellie likes your fingers curled up in her hair. prefers the softness to the roughness when she reclines back between your thighs and plows through her various books revolving space. annotating never came along so smoothly until you wedged yourself into the session, raveling fingers into her foxen hair in a massaging motion. “how long do i have to do this for?” you would ask in a low, curious mutter.

ellie would slowly crawl out of her depthened, quiet ecstasy; nudge an ear to you, and retaliate in a speculative breath in. “until the end of this section, babe. i'm almost done, just hold on.” always near ending in a damn chuckle.

but that never debunks the chance of your fingers ending up in the exact same knots when her head lands between your legs for a completely different reason. “fuck—fuck, right there, ellie.” she pines for the total overtaking of her pretty face: ends of days spent studying grew her need to simply do something on the entertaining tail of the downtime spectrum, which pulling off your panties and licking impulsive, quick-winded strokes through your folds as you roughhoused her head into changing spots fed that need. her tongue is hot against you, and sends stimulation through the roots of your body. up through your spine, where you arch your hips off the bed and have her smooth down with her palms, stilling you in place, so you can charter her more easily.

“mhmm,” she groans delightfully, quirking her brows when the tip of her tongue curls inside you perfectly. satiating her senses.

just sucks when she wakes up the next day to find every vital ounce of information gone from her head, and the scent and taste of your cunt in it's special place. she is a girlfriend-pleaser, after all.

ps: i do have an abby version in mind. that i will write about. finally!

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lost In Paradise

Azriel x reader

a/n: I don’t know what the fuck overcame me when writing this—heads up they’re in the Day Court, by the way

Warnings: dear gods Azriel, Azriel in jewellery—diamond piercings to be precise, with kohl lined/smudged eyes, biting, oral (f receiving), smut, overstim, Azzie being a bit mischievous—implied orgasm denial, light wing play, light breeding kink

word count: 3,009

“We have a dinner to go to, Az,” you insist, inclining your chin as he noses along your throat, broad palms running slowly, reverently, up and down the bare skin of your back. Calloused and scarred hands rasping against the smooth, shimmery expanse of your skin, fingers touching along the knuckles of your spine.

“You’re a three course meal all on your own, pretty thing,” he murmurs beside the shell of your ear, gripping your waist lightly, letting his touch span across the sheer silk of your dress, marvelling at your feel, your shape beneath his hands—how finely you fit with him. 

Your pulse spikes at the flattery, heart beating quick in your chest, head tipping back as his lips press firmly to the small notch in your throat, kissing down to your collar bones, keeping you tight to his front, grip firm and unrelenting. “We’re guests,” you try faintly, already lost in his heaven, “it would be bad etiquette to not show up to the first meal—Az…!”

In one smooth motion he’s swept you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips while his palms appreciatively support your ass. “Bad etiquette would be not eating you out before I fuck you,” he drawls atop your mouth, a cocky smirk on his softened lips, staring down at you with his kohl-smudged eyes, diamonds swinging from his ears, the gold fastenings gleaming in the burning yellow sunset, setting the ocean on fire with molten metal as the sun melts atop the glistening waves. 

“Bad etiquette would be wasting a perfectly romantic evening for the sake of one measly dinner that we aren’t even required to attend,” he murmurs, that smug, self-satisfied look in his shining hazel eyes, flecks of amber and jade set alight through the refraction of the setting sun. Gleaming and swirling like they’re precious stones infinitely more valuable than even the tiny, glittering diamonds making up the jewellery adorning his marvellously handsome features. 

“You look good in Day Court attire,” you mumble breathlessly, clinging onto him as he walks you out onto the balcony, laying you down atop the pillowy, padded massage table, creamy fabric turned a perfectly-baked, golden-brown in the evening light, fitted over the cushions.

“You like how much skin it shows,” he drawls, palms settling either side of you, your hair splayed out from where he’s set you, strewn in lustrous glory against the pillow. “You like how easy it is to manoeuvre around.” 

Sure enough, with the soaring temperatures during a sun-filled day, with heat beating down upon the marble-carved pillars, the attire is perfectly suited for the arid climate. Clothing comes in light colours—mostly cream or off-white—and it contrasts the colour of his skin perfectly. The flush on his cheeks despite the cocky look highlights the hunger delightfully. And thanks to the opulent nature of the Court itself, it gives reason for your mate to wear some of the piercings he rarely adorns himself in for the sake of practicality. The ones you love—his ears the main focus, but with wandering hands your fingers clutch the hem of pale, heated linen, raising it from his toned stomach to reveal the incredibly self-indulgent piercing he’d gotten for his belly button, white diamonds set around the narrow golden band. 

“Gods you’re edible,” you pant, the shallow breaths having little to do with the heated evening and more to do with the hot and hungry look he’s pinning you with as he pulls the troublesome shirt off and over his head. His wings flexing and flaring now they’re rid of the fabric brushing the base of the great limbs. Showing off his well-endowed magnificence, as he should.

“Feel better about skipping that dinner now, pretty thing?” Azriel asks roughly, fingers catching the hem of your dress and swiftly pulling it out from under you, pushing it away further along the pale, padded table. “Maybe you had a point about my bad etiquette,” he drawls hotly, open palm coasting up your stomach, fingers grazing between your breasts. He leans over, dark silky hair flopping across your brow, kohl-rimmed eyes making the hazel of his irises simmer with the ravenous intensity of the setting sun, setting you ablaze. “I’ll be eating first.” 

“How brash,” you breathe, fingers dancing up the bare muscle of his upper arms, nails squeezing lightly at his shoulders, raking teasingly over his gloriously powerful back. He begins laying kisses to your collar bones, teeth nipping at your shimmering skin—you’d spent some time refreshing and making use of the scented, swirling lotions available—slowly trailing down between your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipples teasingly. “Weren’t you ever told not to play with your food?” 

“How can I resist when there’s such a beautiful meal before me? Taste is important but it’s more than that, wouldn’t you say?” Fingers hook beneath the golden strings at your hips, guiding them down your thighs as his mouth trails lower, kissing down your stomach. “I need to appreciate all of you. Not just with my mouth, but with my skin, and touch. How can I enjoy you without indulging all my senses?”

“All of them?” You question, back arching as he reaches your abdomen, fingers threading through his hair to encourage him closer. 

Azriel laughs, the sound coming from deep in his chest, splashing over your skin like melted butter and honey, bathing you in arousing sweetness. “All of them,” he whispers. 

“Sight.” Dark rimmed eyes flick upwards, licking over your form as he connects with you, lashes thick and heavy atop his gaze—equally heavy. 

“Smell.” He noses the intimate skin of your inner thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he parts your legs to make room for himself, your ass resting just at the edge of the cushioned table.

“Touch.” Fingers slip between your parted thighs, trailing up and down your centre, slicking himself in your wetness. Circling your clit twice before dipping back down. 

“Sound.” His thick digits slide in, a cocky smirk on his mouth as he curls them causing your back to arch, beckoning you forward, a heady moan spilling from your mouth as he pushes deeper, rubbing against spots he knows you like. 

“Would you like to tell me the fifth one?” Azriel drawls, dangerously low, arousal thickening his tone to something dark and syrupy. 

“Taste…” You breathe desperately. “Taste…Azriel!” 

“Good girl.” His lips curve in a sinful grin, diamonds twinkling their mirth as he lowers himself to your cunt. “You’ve earned it.” 

A rich, heady moan spills from your mouth as his tongue flattens over your clit, fingers working you with heavenly ease while his mouth remains at the apex of your thighs. It’s nothing short of paradise, floating high above in the clouds, nestled in a pillowy cushion as he bathes you in pleasure, rubbing it into you in ways that shouldn’t be permitted—how can something so good exist on this plane of reality?

Your head tips back into the cushioning, moans rising from your chest unabashedly, singing your pleasure with every curl of his fingers, every lovely flick of his tongue. The high approaches far faster than you ever would have expected, spine arching, grinding down on his mouth, hips swirling as he suckles at your clit, able to feel the impending high as your muscles brace for the powerful onslaught. 

You cry out as you come, nails raking through his hair, his wings flaring with male satisfaction as you orgasm, feeling you tighten and flutter around his thick fingers, clit pulsing as pleasure rapidly fires through your body, racing up and throughout your skin, spreading right to your fingertips. Your mouth opens as sound fails you, eyes squeezing shut, Azriel’s rough palms gripping your hips tight as you begin to squirm and writhe, seeking to crawl away from the pleasure—but he likes seeing you like this, and won’t allow it to end anywhere near prematurely. 

His forearm bands across your hips, pinning them down as you try to buck upward, forcing you through the aftershocks that have your body trembling, strength draining, leaving you powerless to resist his dominating touch. Azriel’s relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure, keeping his fingers tucked inside of you, keeping the pace, keeping his tongue swirling around your hardened clit, dragging it between his lips when he feels you coming down and teasingly tugging on it with his teeth.

A lovely whimper graces his ears, mouth parting into a wicked grin as you muster the strength to look down at him, your legs spread with slick gleaming on his lips, threading between your inner thighs where he’s gotten you especially messy. 

“Ready for the main course?” He drawls, your nipples peaking at the rough, rolling timbre of his voice, skin prickling as awareness sweeps through you. “Main course?” You pant, already falling out of it, unable to grasp what he’s referring to with that wicked smile as he stands, wings looming over his shoulders. Shadows pull the band of his loose, pale linen trousers from their already low placement on his hips, allowing his hands to settle either side of your waist as he presses flush to your messy heat. 

“Both of us,” he whispers, leaning down atop your mouth, “together?”

You think your eyes roll slightly at the reminder, nails threading through his inky hair as you pull him into a hot kiss, thighs wrapping snugly around his hips. His cock rests hot and heavy against your cunt, slowly riding back and forth to coat himself thoroughly, before aligning his tip with your entrance. 

“Go slowly,” you beg, clutching onto him with anticipation—you’re far to sensitive for any of his rough treatment. But he smirks over your lips, hips drawing back so his tip drags down over your hardened clit, his leaking cock nudging the entrance of your drooling cunt, messy and sloppy from previous attention—about to be made much messier. 

“Go slowly?” He muses, a low laugh in his voice that makes your skin prickle, hairs standing on end. “You’re perfectly warmed up, aren’t you? All ready and pliable, huh? What could you possibly want me to go slowly for?” You flush deeply, hands twining together over his broad shoulders, trying to push as much sternness into your gaze as you can manage—which isn’t much, judging by the way he chuckles. 

“Is my girl too sensitive?” 

That smirk. That sinful fucking smirk. 

“Whatever you do to me I’ll be delivering right back,” you warn, thighs squeezing his hips. “I’m getting you in my mouth after this, remember…” 

“How could I forget?” He groans, hips pushing forward. “Gonna taste both of us.” 

A pleased moan sighs from your lips as he fills you up, gripping one leg to bring it up his chest—the underside of your thigh pressing to his lower stomach as he pushes tight against you. Azriel’s gaze is nothing short of ravenous as he takes in the arch of your spine as his palm splays across your abdomen, applying a slight pressure to really get you to feel him. 

“Like that?” He asks, short on breath. Mouth curved in that smug grin. So self-satisfied. “Look at you,” he coos, shifting his hips, dragging them back so his head is again at your entrance, before pushing his cock all the way back inside. “So hot and flushed. All of this for me?” His thumb swipes across your clit, and you moan helplessly, tossing your head to the side as your eyes squeeze shut, nails scraping over the cushioning. 

Before you can formulate a reply he’s setting his pace, giving deep, almost punishing thrusts of his hips that roll firmly to your own. Sharp and decisive, just as you like, spine arching with every buck. 

“Can you even count to three right now?” He taunts, shadows swirling over your breasts, teasingly playing with your nipples, curling around them and tugging lightly. You try to shoot him a glare—that side of him has been coming out more frequently as of late, and you really don’t want to deal with his mean streak right now. Not on such a perfectly set up evening for romance and intimacy. 

So you extend your arms toward him, fingers opening and closing as if to grasp onto him. “Azriel…” you moan, reaching. His hips buck sharply of their own accord, swearing you could feel him twitch from pleasure—he might enjoy being mean from time to time, but it’s all for getting you nice and needy. He’s an undeniable soft spot for your desperation. Like putty in your hands once you reach for him, your toes curling from pleasure.  

“Fuck,” he curses low under his breath, driving his cock firmly into you as his palms splay either side of you, letting you touch and feel all over him, practically shivering with the greed in your fingers as they explore and grope. “Such a sweet little thing to everyone else, aren’t you? Such a wicked little devil when you’re with me.” 

Teeth tug on your lower lip as you try to keep your smile to yourself, but you fail miserably, smiling wide as your head tips back into the pillow, relishing the pleasure. “Wicked devil?” You moan out, forcing yourself to meet simmering hazel, heat sizzling just beneath your skin, clit itching for release as his abdomen grazes the apex of your thighs. 

“Like this?” 

A startled noise slips from his lips as you reach further over his shoulders, stroking his wings slowly. Teasing out his pleasure to have him playing nice with yours. His forehead drops to your own, brows pressing together, close enough to share panting breaths, your breasts grazing his chest with each heaving inhale. 

His lips part on an unabashed groan that licks up your spine, pooling between your legs at his deep confessions to pleasure, repeating the slow strokes to his wings. 

“Like that,” he confirms, jaw wound tight as he tries to cope with the overwhelming onslaught of stimulation. Hazel eyes warily open, a sharp glint in them as his instincts snarl and grapple with reasoning, but you want him to yield to them, not fight them. 

It seems he gets the message. 

Azriel’s palms snatch at your wrists, slamming them down on the cushioned table to keep you pinned, forcing you to take every brutal buck of his hips and you can feel as both of you swoop for that high that’s rising. His wings flare wide, their total span easily twice his height, casting a dark, dominating shadow that you know is an instinctive show of possession. 

Shadows wrap beneath the arch of your spine, clutching your hips to raise them from the table, and the angle has you going dizzy. Moans spill and babble as he pounds into you, grip remaining tight on your wrists to keep them trapped, driving in and out relentlessly until you think you might have screamed from overstimulation, panting and out of breath when you return to reality beneath him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls against your skin, teeth scraping the tender length of your throat, searching for a spot to choose, to bite down on. He picks a section, pushing his teeth in, licking and sucking to push a feverish kiss into your skin, only pulling away once he’s satisfied. 

“Az,” you whine, cupping his cheeks in your hands, squeezing lightly as you arch into him. “It’s my turn.” 

“Your turn?” His hand wraps around your wrist, nosing the centre of your palm, pressing a kiss to its heel, delivering a small lick that zaps straight to your clit. His hips pull away, then push back in, able to feel as his cum begins seeping out of you. “You’ve hardly taken any of it, pretty thing. You need to be full up before moving onto me. Can’t have you going on empty, hm?” 

“Azriel!” You yelp as he rolls his hips to yours more firmly, bucking against you with enough force to nudge you further up the table. “That isn’t fair,” you squawk indignantly.

“My sweet little devil’s going to tell me what’s fair now, is she?” 

His lips curve into that smirk, and your willpower crumbles, legs wrapping themselves tighter around his waist to press him deeper. Azriel’s subsequent laugh reignites arousal in the pit of your stomach, tightening around his cock, urging him to follow through with his taunts. “Do it,” you whisper, “hurry up.” 

“You wanted me to go slowly earlier. I said you needed to be filled up, not that you needed to come.” 

“Azriel!” You gasp when he pulls out entirely, flipping you onto your front so you’re bent over for him, arms forcefully dragged behind your back to give him full control. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to me,” he muses, lining himself up. “But the evening’s too good to waste, don’t you agree? It would be a shame to have it over and done with so quickly.” 

“And you called me the devil,” you mumble into the cushioning, squirming lightly beneath him to feel the unrelenting strength of his grip. “You’re going to cry when I get my mouth on you.” 

He chuckles again, shackling your forearms to the base of your spine with his shadows, rough palms easily gripping your hips. “It’s adorable you think you’re going to make it through that far. We both know you’ve never managed.” 

Azriel leans over you, cock slowly sliding in as he settles at your back. You can feel his lips against your ear, breath fanning the sensitive expanse of your neck. “I’d tell you to hold on tight, princess, but you can’t even manage that most nights. So tonight all you need to do is lie still, and take it.” 

His palm slides beneath your jaw, raising you from the cushioning, a mocking note to his deep and honeyed voice. “How does that sound?” 

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[anantaru]

SWEET AND SOFT — WRIOTHESLEY

you know wriothesley won't let you get out of bed, he was insatiable and couldn't take his eyes off you. wc 700

・✶ ｡ warnings — lazy morning sex, clingy wriothesley, fem! reader

"‘m-more, just a little more," wriothesley whispers and offers you a suspiciously cheeky grin. although he was seemingly still fatigued due to the fact that he has just woken up, something else was quite persistent when creeping up on him, more so pestering his limbs and muscles until he's flushed, a pitch of lust pursuing his glazed eyes.

with pleasure, he continues and rests his head against the crook of your neck so he could lazily circle his arms across your waist from behind. the sudden bolt of electricity that crawled through your nervous system was enough to make you lean into his touch before you quiver into his strong grip, something hard and throbbing grazing against the plush of your ass as your slow breathing becomes a little faster.

"mhm, you're so insatiable baby," you giggle, delightfully as you feel his muscular body press against you when your boyfriend smears a couple wet kisses on the crook of your neck, the thrill of him being so content with your frame was igniting something deep within your chest.

as it was, your boyfriend really was insatiable, he's truly unbelievable! but so were you unarguably desiring of him touching you on all the saccharine coated places.

with a quick, single movement of his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear, wriothesley drags the fabric down and leaves it draped around your knees before he does the same to his boxers, at last freeing his painful erection as he presses it in between the fat of your ass, feeling your silky flesh welcome him dearly.

he really cannot wait any longer— it's a given that he has to act now, because you turn him so utterly mindless with each and every moan slipping past your plump lips, breaking into a million pieces and when you begin to grind your ass back— oh well, he was done for.

wriothesley continues and wraps one hand across your upper chest as the other strokes his dripping cock up and down, slow and lustfully up and down, up and down while smearing the pre over his shaft.

his face was still nuzzled in your neck when he targets your skin, biting and suckling all over the flesh as you arch your back away from him only for your boyfriend to harshly press you against his chest again, parting your legs a little so he could slide himself in perfectly fine.

"there we go, that's better, don't you think, hm?" the duke sighs, dreamily as his voice shakes when you mould your walls around his thudding shaft, your crushing heaves and silent sobs driven by lust as he notices how your body was slightly struggling to take him, all of him— he's so big and the usual morning cold dies down when you quiver at his teeth mercilessly grazing along your skin as he rocks himself into the warm cradle of your walls.

the helpless clamp of your pussy was to die for, it feels like you pull him in with one single throb of your cunt until his entire length was buried in you, your silky walls battering your slick along his cock when he sinks himself deeper, your hole forcing him inside for more, more and milking him so sweetly, so perfect that it almost brings him to tears.

not to mention those sweet, little pleas of yours— they might be his utter favorite after all, and your boyfriend just needs to listen to them over and over until he can pump you full of his gift, with his erection rutting through the sore constriction of your hole so mercilessly that you're shaking, shoving your head back so hard that your back arches through his strong grip.

you just need him so bad that you feel hot crystallines pearl at your lashes— and the duke knows, he always did, never faltering nor losing the strong chains of thrusts he targets your sex with as he purrs deeply against your ear— that being the last puzzle piece that made you spiral into a hot daze.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hi Lovely, just dropping by to say that you can totally decline weigh ins if not extremely necessary. You're a fantastic writer, you've got excellent music taste and clearly are funny at hell. Plus you can probably lift every twat nurse who tuts and scoffs at you, they shouldn't every judge you.

If you're up for it, I'd die for some NikPrice in a proper sex shop (Not a gag/gimmick one) or maybe a lil NikPrice who want to bring in a certain delightfully sassy sergeant to their dynamic.

Head up, we are all here to support you!

😊

Thank you for this, Selkie. It was a massive boost going in. So, Nikprice in a sex shop, eh? Well, obviously I had to visit Prowler to, uh, check it still looks the same as the last time I visited. Here we go...

Nik and John visit ProwlerRED in Soho as Nik helps John take those first tentative steps in exploring his sexuality.

cw: fetishwear, inexperienced and nervous sub, teasing Nikolai.

Price stood opposite the shop and stared at the giant white paw on the black banner between the ground and first floor, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, his beanie pulled low around his ears to disguise the hot flush colouring them a deep red.

They stood at the crossroads. Passersby dipped into the gutter to get around them on their way down Old Compton Street and Price stepped back a little further as a cyclist hopped the pavement, swerving a stationary taxi that was blocked from turning into Dean Street. Price's eyes would make it to the window eventually, but first he needed to get over the road.

"We should go in," Nik said, exhaling the last breath of cigarette smoke as he ground it out under his boot. This had been his idea. He had spotted Price eyeing up some of the leathermen at the bar the previous evening, and teased his interest out of him under the duvet of their exorbitantly expensive hotel bed. It was hard to keep secrets from Nik when his hands and mouth were on ya... Some kinda witchcraft.

Price knew what leathermen were. It was impossible not to when your old man had been both a sergeant in the armed forces and a keen biker. It was a joining of the two things together; the latent homoeroticism of a career and a hobby that had been, at the time, completely male dominated. His old man had been predictably foul in his judgements of his fellow soldiers, but Price had been fascinated. He'd avoided looking too deeply at why he found them so--

Price was... he was interested, alright? Something about the way that the leather looked on a man's body; the harnesses, the jackets, the jock straps. He didn't much care for the caps or the police shirts. If he wanted to wear a cap, he'd give in to Mac's relentless naggin' and get promoted, you know, wear a cap that came with a bloody salary increase, and Peelers weren't exactly high in his esteem.

It was the smell and the texture of the leather against sweat, the slide of it across hard and soft curves as leashes and harnesses shifted, the sound of belts snapping together, watching the dominant partner haul their willing subordinate around and the responding trust. The relief and pleasure on faces that weren't covered by masks, moans muffled by gags. That looked good. Real good.

Imagining Nik's hand wound through a--

Price swallowed.

"John?"

"Hold up, I'm gettin' there. Don't rush me." Price bristled, shoulders rising up around his ears. He didn't even need to look at Nik to know what his face was doin'; Price could feel his grin like atmospheric pressure and it rankled him. "This ain't funny, Nik."

"It is funny," Nik said, arms folded across his big chest, open palm tapping his own elbow. "This is not live fire fight or hostage situation. You need to relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed," Price said, immediately dropping his shoulders and sniffing when Nik raised his eyebrow. He bounced on his toes and coughed, aiming for nonchalant, but knew his eyes were wider than a rabbit's gazing into oncoming headlights. "See, fine."

"It is just a shop."

"I can see that."

"The owner is half your size."

"Oh yeah? You well acquainted?"

"Fairly."

"Course y'are." Price's cheeks reddened and he scrubbed a hand through his beard. "Alright. Ground rules. Nothin' that's sharp or... Let's just stick to the harness."

Nik hummed and started crossing the road. Price tried to grab his arm to get at least some verbal agreement, but Nik had already skipped up the opposite curb and was looking through the window. Price waited for a black cab to pass and then jogged over to stand at his side. He could see himself in the reflection of the window, hunkered low. "Is that a leather pig mask?"

"Da," Nik said, examining a full body harness with a metal cock ring at the groin. Price hazarded a glance at what had Nik so interested and his heart skipped a beat, his fingers curling into fists inside his pockets . Nik tapped his elbow. "Come." Price let Nik take his elbow and drag him through the door on the corner of the building, his breath held for... fuck knows what reason.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The same smell as the bar the evening before, except without the added layer of sweat that had made his mouth water. It was sharp, clean. Behind the mannequins in the window were two railings of leather harnesses, and along the walls were racks of leather shirts and trousers. Fairly... innocuous, really. It could have been a biker's shop if it had helmets instead of masks, and less lube on the shelves.

"Hey," called a faintly accented voice from behind the counter, Price would guess Polish but Nik would get a better read. "Let me know if you need anything." She had enough metal in her mouth that kissing her would risk a stab wound, and Price found himself counting the studs when Nik cleared his throat.

"Da, thank you, we may need help with sizing."

She shrugged. "The best thing to do is try 'em on. There's a changing room round the corner," she jutted her thumb over her shoulder, "and two downstairs with the toys and bondage. Just no underwear, yeah?" With that, she turned back to untangling the pile of leather paraphernalia and hangers on the counter.

Nik seemed distracted by something on the far wall, so Price took the opportunity to examine the shelves behind the shop assistant. Aromas. A fair number of them, in fact. Price had seen a few of the lads holding them at the bar, but googling "aroma" and "disk cleaner" had yielded completely innocuous Amazon searches.

"You will not need those, solnyshko," Nik called, so Price continued to tentatively explore, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.

His gaze wandered to a pile of flyers at the edge of the counter. "Boot blacking," Price murmured. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Da," Nik said softly, appearing at his shoulder with two harnesses in his hand. "It is a kink, but also good for repairing tired equipment."

"Fuckin 'ell, gettin' the troopers to buff their boots proper is like pullin' teeth, and these lot do it for jollies? Is he... Is he lickin' it?"

Nik chuckled and took the flyer out of Price's hand, stroking a finger over the bristles on Price's chin before twining their fingers together. "Perhaps if you put on a jock strap and licked their boots they might be more, hmm, proactive, no?"

"I'll run it by brass," Price said with a wry smirk, letting Nik pull him down the narrow staircase to the basement level.

His eyes blew wide once they'd adjusted to the dim lighting. Now that was what he had actually expected when Nik had said "fetish shop". The walls were crammed with an assortment of delightful looking torture devices from whips to gags to masks that covered everything but the mouth. There was a rack of staggeringly big silicone cocks, and Price felt the heat creeping back up his neck again at how bloody real some of them looked. And big. So fuckin' big.

He was so out of his bloody depth here.

The display case to the right of the stairs as they reached the bottom was filled with the weirdest collection of dildos he had ever seen in his life. He stooped down, hands on his knees, and peered inside. "Fuck me, that one's thicker than my thigh. Nik, there's no... Nik, come here. There's no way that fits. What the fuck is that meant to be?" He pressed his fingertip to the glass at what looked like a tentacle with little nodules all over it.

"John, here." Nik beckoned him over and Price sidled over to stand at his side, casting one final alarmed look into the display case. On the wall, there was an array of cuffs and collars, all with slightly different fastenings, studs and coloured linings. Nik took one of Price's hands and placed it on the nearest pair of cuffs, pressing against Price's back, his chin on his shoulder, palm on his belly to keep him close. "Choose."

"I thought we said just the harness..." Price murmured, but he could barely hear the words leave his own mouth, too fixated on the feel and smell of expensive leather. His toes curled in his boots as he pressed his fingers inside the circle of a cuff, slipping out the other side to nudge one of the metal links and stroke around the smooth edge of the buckle.

These weren't the laughably flimsy handcuffs Price had used previously in his, admittedly, limited sex life. The kind where the plastic broke through the cheap fur and cut your skin if you pulled too hard. Tokenisitic in their restraint. These were sturdy, unyielding; they would be completely unbreakable, even by a body like his. The thought of Nik securing Price's wrists to the headboard, working his hands down his body, made Price's damn prick twitch.

Nik nuzzled the side of his neck, bringing him back to the present, and he picked up a solid black pair like the ones he had seen on a man last night. They had a single silver loop each and a thick buckle. The leather was stiff, clean and unblemished, and Price flexed them a little in his palms. "Uh, these." His reward was a soft kiss just beneath his ear, and Nik reached a little higher to pluck the matching collar from the top row of hooks.

"Try them on, with your shirt off," Nik said. "I will wait here. Take your time." He placed the harness in Price's hands and nudged him towards the narrow changing cubicle. Price hesitated, glancing back up at the stairs and then into the shop proper. Nik placed a palm at the small of his back and pressed his nose to the side of Price's face. "It is fine. I will not allow anyone to see."

"Right, yeah..." Price ducked beneath a silk sash hanging from the railing as Nik nudged him forward. He figured if people were down here looking for a birch to take stripes out of them, seeing some battered old soldier in a leather harness wouldn't faze them too much. And that's what he told himself as he yanked the curtain across and shucked his shirt over his head.

The harness seemed to have more buckles than entirely necessary at first inspection, and he turned it over and over in his hands, checking the model on the label to work out how it should sit. It was sturdy, with silver studs and thick metal, and he felt that same throb of arousal as he handled it.

"John, is ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, jus'... workin' it out."

In the end, Price pulled open one of the side buckles and ducked into it. The leather was chill on his skin and his nipples pulled tight as he sat the straps just above them. Once he'd fastened the buckle back in place, he glanced into the mirror through his eyebrows, hesitant.

The yellowing bruise on his ribs from the last op was beginning to fade, the scrapes all but healed into thin pink lines, and he had the usual litany of scars he was used to seeing by now.

He looked... good.

It sat well around his shoulders, framing the furred curves of his chest by sitting just above the line of his nipples, the silver d-ring between his tits. The straps beneath his arms sat just above his obliques, following the line of muscle comfortably.

Fuck, it made him look... made him look broad, strong, with his jeans belted at his narrow hips, his operation-ready athletic physique well-complemented, and he stood up a little straighter, jutting his chin. He'd expected to feel like a dog, maybe a bit demeaned, but when he flexed into the leather, heard the stiff straps creak a bit, he felt fuckin' powerful.

Next were the cuffs. He wrapped them around each wrist, turning them around until the silver rings sat on the top and the buckles beneath. The lining was slightly padded, lending to a snug fit.

"How does it feel?" Nik asked, close to the curtain.

"Yeah, s'nice. Like, uh, it fits well."

Price grabbed the collar and then pushed the curtain aside a bit, his eyes fixed on the floor as he felt the heat creeping up his neck again. He heard Nik's breath catch and then a soft curse whispered in awestruck Russian.

"Not bad, right?" Price asked, trying for cocksure but coming out shy.

Nik said nothing. He took the collar from Price's hand and wrapped it carefully around his neck, using his forefinger to stop the leather biting as he threaded the strap through. The moment it pulled tight enough for Price to feel it, he let out a soft gasp, his hands lifting to latch onto Nik's wrist, a sudden panic beating a little harder in his chest.

"Easy, solnyshko," Nik said gently, leaning in to kiss him. Price's grip relaxed, and he drew in a shaky breath. Nik took his hands. "Here, let me show you how it would feel with your wrists secure. If you feel unsafe, you must tell me, da?"

"Is... Is anyone down here?"

"Nyet. We are alone."

"Ye-yeah, right... Yeah." Price swallowed as Nik moved his arms behind his back, lifting each wrist until he could attach the cuffs to the d-ring at the back of the harness. When Nik was done, he stepped back, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the shop as he appraised the man before him.

"Krasivyy..." Nik said, reaching to lift Price's chin from where it was tilted down. John kept his head up as Nik's hands roamed his body, following the line of the leather straps over his clavicles to his upper chest, leaving goosebumps of pleasure in his wake.

Price watched Nik's eyes darken with desire and felt like the hottest piece of arse this side of the Thames; he flexed cheekily into the straps and Nik's lips twitched. The control in this wasn't so clear cut, was it? Price had assumed he'd be the one under the boot, but watching Nik's reaction made it clear he had more power than he'd assumed. Nik was enraptured, his arousal clear in the heated caress of his palms and fingers.

Price wanted to lean into his hands, arch like a damn cat. His stomach pulled tight as Nik stroked just above his nipples, following the line of the harness beneath his arms and making him flex and shiver. It was too much, too sensitive, and he let out a soft, strangled noise, squirming as heat gathered in his hips. He couldn't stop Nik from touching him, couldn't push his hands away, and that made his blood run south, hot and urgent. "Mm, Nik... Please... I..."

"You are... breath taking like this," Nik said, lifting a hand to hook the collar and draw Price to him. The experience of being drawn to Nik's chest like that, having to trust those strong arms would catch him, made Price groan softly. He buried his face into Nik's neck, arching only when Nik's hands swept down his back, gently stroking the burn scars at the base before dropping lower to squeeze his arse. "If I could, I would have you here."

"Fuck," Price breathed, grinding forward to feel the hard line of Nik's cock. "Guess we're buyin' this then..."

"Da, and one or two other things."

"Nik."

"Nothing sharp. Nothing to hurt you, John. I promise."

"You could never hurt me." Price had never been so certain of anything in his life.

Nik took the back of the harness and pulled Price away from him, lifting his chin so their eyes met. "This is important. So listen," Nik said. "Sometimes hurt is not physical pain in this. It can be feeling unsafe, it can be feeling too overwhelmed. I may push too far, and you must be honest with me."

Nik looked so serious and Price could only nod, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. Fuck, Nik cared about him so fuckin' much and it made Price's heart feel all kinds of warm. "So, what... We, uh, we need safe words and the like?" He flashed a lopsided grin and Nik kissed him on the forehead with a low chuckle.

"Da. We will discuss. Now, get dressed. I wish to get you back to the hotel."

"Yes, sir."

"John..."

"Sorry, couldn't help it."

"If you wish to call me sir in our bedroom, then I would not be opposed."

"Bet you fuckin' wouldn't..."

"I see you are going to be, what to say... a brat." Nik swatted Price's arse before he undid the cuffs from the back of the harness and drew the curtain across.

Price almost felt sad about taking the harness off, savouring the phantom sensation of it on his skin even when he pulled his t-shirt and coat back on. He lingered in the cubicle, squeezing his prick through his jeans with a grimace, and only re-emerged once it had calmed enough to be bloody discreet.

Nik was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was holding a coil of rope, a leash and what looked to be an anal toy of some kind. "It is remote control," Nik said with a roguish little smirk when he saw Price looking, before jogging up the stairs.

"Bloody 'ell," Price breathed, following behind him.

Nik flashed the plastic and purchased the lot, despite Price fumbling through his coat for his wallet. "This is treat for me," Nik said when Price glared at him, plucking the opaque black bags from the counter.

"'M worried what I've unleashed here," Price replied once Nik had thanked the assistant and they were heading for the door.

"Ah, I believe it is I that have leashed you, no?"

"Ha-fucking-ha, corny bastard."

Nik grabbed John's hand and looked far too proud of himself, his smile so bright and handsome that Price's heart felt light. He didn't let go of Price's hand as they strolled back towards the station, and Price felt his heart swell as he glanced down at their intertwined fingers, his lower lip between his teeth.

Today was a day of firsts: his first visit to a bloody sex shop, and the first time in his life he had ever held a lover's hand, head up, chest out, as he walked down the street. When in London, eh?

[surielstea]

Comfort by Candlelight

Based on this request.

Pairing: Lucien Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lucien comforts Reader during her torturous cycle.

Warnings: Mentions of menstrual periods | descriptions of throwing up | heart wrenching fluff (I need this man badly)

2.5k words.

The ache in my body came in relentless waves, crashing harder into me after the last. I'd barely made it into my room before collapsing onto my bed, curling into a ball and burrowing into the cold pillows, seeking reprieve from the sharp twists in my abdomen as I tucked my legs to my chest and let out pitiful, quiet sniffles.

The knock on the door makes me groan, half of me wishes whoever it was would just go away. Of course, the door creaked open and I was met with a concerned-faced Lucien taking up the doorway with a steaming mug in his hands.

He paced to my bedside, setting the hot tea down on my nightstand. "I made your favorite blend— it's not as good as your brew but, I tried." He mumbles and I smile softly at my mate. His amber eye looks me over, his brows creasing as his concern grows for me.

"Also—" He fishes a small vial from his breast pocket, the clear liquid inside already making me grimace. His eyes softened at my reaction to the pain tonic. "I know you hate the taste but it'll take the edge off." He reassures, placing the vial beside my steaming tea. "So let's sit you up and you can wash it down with some tea yeah?" He says, standing upright and peering down at me.

Slowly, I nod and he moves to help guide me up, putting a pillow behind me as I lean back against the headboard. "Alright?" He asks cautiously and I nod again.

"You don't have to baby me, you know," I remark as he hands me the vial after unscrewing its cap.

"I know I don't have to," He says, grabbing my tea, keeping it warm with the fire at his fingertips. "But I want to." His gaze doesn't falter as he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "Now drink, and then you can have the tea." He croons, keeping my mug captive.

I huff a sigh as I bring the vial up to my lips, trying not to breathe in as I downed the oddly thick, syrupy medicine. I groan as I swallow it down and he was quick to bring the rim of the mug to my lips. I drank deeply, the perfectly tempered beverage spreading warmth throughout my entire body. I hum delightfully and take another sip, pulling my legs up to my chest.

"Good?" He asks tentatively and I nod, pulling the drink away.

"You might have to start making my tea all the time," I chirp as if it were a warning. He smiles softly, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of my head.

"Fine by me, just say the word and I'll do anything to make you feel better alright?" He murmurs into my hair, his calloused hand cupping my cheek gently.

He pulls away and I look up at him, tears brimming my eyes. His brows crease. "No, no baby what's wrong?" His hand on my cheek moves along my jaw, wiping the invisible tears beneath my eyes. "Nothing— you're just, so kind to me," I sniffle. He knew full well I was only acting like this because of the imbalance and swing of my hormones but it was still endearing to see me so torn up about his affection. "I don't deserve this," I murmur and his smile shifts into a frown, that, that he had a problem with.

"No." He said sternly. "No, my love you deserve everything good that there is." He reassures. "Now I'm going to draw you a bath, you stay here alright?" He said and I nodded, still sniffing.

Only a minute later he was returning to my side and guiding me into his arms, carrying me bridal style into our bathing chambers. He gave me the dignity of undressing myself while he poured my favorite oils and salts into the bath, stirring it with his hand, simultaneously warming it with the fire in his veins.

Once I was bare he guided me into the warm water, my muscles immediately soothing over at the change of temperature. I let out a soft sigh as I relaxed into the tub, leaning back and allowing the heat of the water to sink into my very bones.

"Are you trying to make me love you more?" I ask through a groan as he moves to lather an expensive-smelling soap along my bare skin.

"Is it working?" He asks with a sly tone, and there was that bantering, foxlike Lucien I loved.

"Maybe, keep going, and then I'll decide," I murmur, leaning into his touch, the familiar sensation of his rough, large hands being so delicate with me. "You know, I could get used to all this pampering," I add, voicing my every thought without any hesitation.

"Mm, good. I'm not going anywhere." He says as he finishes up washing me, not missing an inch.

I craned my neck back to look at him, peeking one eye open and finding his button-up white shirt rolled up at the forearms, but still damp at the edges nonetheless, yet he stared at me like he had no intention of changing until I was asleep.

"Go change, I want to soak for a few more minutes," I shoo him away, waving a dismissive hand.

"I'll be back to dry you off," He says, his tone falling back into that comforting, warm voice.

He shuffles out of the room, leaving the door cracked in case I need to call for him. I released a soft sigh, closed my eyes, and relaxed into the bath. Wincing slightly as a wave of pain shoots up my side. The pain tonic should kick in soon, and then hopefully I'll be able to sleep.

I rub at my eyes, exhaustion from my own body being at war with itself weighing on me with ceaseless pain. If the pain wasn't so intense I think I'd just sleep through the rest of the week.

Lucien came back in, as quiet as a cat on his feet, now changed and styled in only a pair of pajama pants. I admired the view of his bare torso in the candlelight— when I noticed the stack of clothes in his hands, as well as a towel draped over his broad, bare shoulder and a stack of more feminine products in his other hand.

"You want to dress yourself or do you need my help?" He asks as he places everything on the counter. I cringe slightly at the idea of him watching me secure my pad in my undergarments.

"I'll do it," I utter, standing from the tub and he rushes over to hand me the towel.

"Okay, I'll be just outside," He whispers, silently communicating that he didn't care what I asked him to do, and only wanted to help. I nod and take the towel from him, beginning to dry off as he leaves the bathing chamber yet again.

I move to where he had placed my clothes, noticing he had somehow selected my softest nightgown. I smiled and slipped the silky dress over my head, then put on a fresh pair of lined underwear. Once I was done I let my hair down and nearly laughed at the image of myself in the mirror. I looked horrendous, utterly terrifying. I combed my hands through my hair, attempting to create some semblance of being put together.

All the movement was beginning to make me queasy. My breath hitched as nausea began working its way up my stomach. I gripped the edge of the counter, taking a deep breath and hoping it'd fade but my body refused to lose this fight— and suddenly I was rushing towards the toilet with bile rising in my throat.

I hurled, the feeling burning my throat as tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't even hear the door open, or the rushed footsteps before Lucien's warm hand was guiding my hair away from my face and his other was rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I whimpered once the worst of it was over, my body aching as I gasped for air, wiping at my mouth and sniveling.

"I'm disgusting." I huff. "Why aren't you running for the hills by now?" I murmur, looking at my mate lazily.

"I've seen worse. Trust me, this doesn't crack the top thousand." He reassured and I let out a breathless laugh.

"Top thousand, hm? You must've led a very interesting life before you met me." I drawl, my voice weak due to the rawness of my throat.

"I don't remember much of a life before I met you." He said cheekily and I rolled my eyes.

"How can you tell me that when I've just puked half my lunch up?" I scowl.

"Because you're beautiful." He replies without missing a beat.

"Liar." I retort.

"Maybe, but it hasn't stopped me from sharing has it?" His smirk deepens.

"Pervert." I huff.

"I prefer 'Devoted Mate', but whatever you say." He continues and I frown at his insistence on being the best male I have ever met.

"I'm going to bite your face off," I warn, deciding my nausea was done wreaking havoc on my body and stumbling to my feet— which Lucien had guided me to.

"As long as you're not biting any other parts off, we're doing just fine." He jokes as I walk over to the sink, cupping my hands beneath the cool water and rinsing my mouth thoroughly.

"Careful," I cautioned while wiping my mouth. "Or I might reconsider." I smile, wrapping an arm around his bare torso and leaning on him for support as he takes us back over to the bed.

I flopped down onto the warm mattress, curling into the excessive amount of decorative pillows that I was too exhausted to throw off the side of the bed. "Oh, love," Lucien tuts, guiding me to readjust into a more comfortable position, then taking the time to remove the useless pillows from the bed. "Better?" He asks as he sits on the edge of the mattress, helping me pull the blankets higher up my body.

I nod softly. "Much better," I murmur and he smiles, his eyes flicking over to the spot he usually slept in.

"Do you want your own space tonight? I can sleep on the couch— or even the floor if you want me to." He offered after a moment of silence.

I nearly laughed. "I don't want you anywhere but right next to me," I say with a shake of my head and his shoulders slumped in relief.

"Oh good, I really did not want to sleep on the floor," He sighed while slipping into his side of the bed. I giggle, the sound turning into a groan as a piercing pain twists in my abdomen. The corners of his lips tug downward at my clear discomfort. The tonic should've begun working by now, but something told me I hurled that back up only moments ago.

"I wish there was more I could do for you." My mate said with a reassuring kiss to my temple while gathering me into his arms, pulling me into his chest, and encasing me in the scent of a crackling fire and sandalwood, the smell reminding me of being wrapped in a well wore leather coat on a crisp autumn morning.

"There is one thing you could do," I suggest slowly and he looked at me curiously, and even in the dim light I could see the devotion in his eye— the willingness to do anything I asked, silently pleading with me to just say the word.

I reach around to grab his hand that was resting on my ribs. I brought it around, guiding his palm and long fingers to cup over my lower stomach. "Mmkay, now warm it up," I mumble, his brows crease in confusion but he does as I say— and his hand feels like the first rays of the sun after a long winter.

I smile as my sharp pains ebb away from the heat, my muscles relaxing under his loving touch. "Am I just your personal heater?" He asks in a quiet voice, rubbing his thumb over the area of bare skin.

"A damned good one at that," I murmur while burrowing into his neck, craving the warmth there too. I kiss his bare collarbone, delighting in the sensation of his heated skin beneath my fingertips.

He pressed kisses to my hairline, so subtle I wouldn't have felt it if he were anyone else— but Lucien's kisses were different like each one was a piece of himself he was offering to me, heavy with the weight of his love. I pulled back from his shoulder to look up at him curiously.

"Thank you, Lucien," I whispered, my lips ghosting over his.

"Don't thank me." He shakes his head, his nose grazing mine slightly at the action. "Don't you ever thank me." He leaned closer, closing the distance between us. I melted into the feeling of his lips on mine, his hand on my abdomen growing slightly hotter as he got lost in my lips. I hum in amusement, pulling back and for a second I thought he might chase me back onto his mouth, but he remained still, staring at me with only reverence.

"I love you," I profess quietly, my hand coming up to cup his jaw, my thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "So much," I add, leaning in once more, chastely peppering kisses over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, where sun-kissed, freckled skin was.

He smiles beneath my soft kisses, his eyes shimmering with warmth and affection. "I love you too, more than words can ever express," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze makes my heart swell, the ache in my body momentarily forgotten in the presence of his love.

As I pull back, I rest my forehead against his, letting the moment linger. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of us cocooned in our little sanctuary. "You're so good to me," I whisper, brushing my fingers through his tousled hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," He retorts, guiding my head back into the crook of his neck. “Rest now, you need it.” His hand soothed through my hair, detangling the ends silently, the quiet intimacy of it all making my stomach twist— this time, in a good way, similar to butterflies soaring.

“Goodnight Lu,” I murmur into his warm skin, pressing one last kiss to his neck. He didn’t reply, just continued to stroke my hair as I succumbed to the warmth of his affection, the darkness of night slowly wrapping around me— and he was the flickering candlelight that lulled me to sleep, my body finally finding rest as I meet a peaceful slumber.

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[monsterfuckerconfessions]

I find the concept of leaving the window open as an invitation for a monster to fuck me in my sleep incredibly hot.

I think about leaving the window open at night while I masturbate, naked in my bed with a fake cock pumping in and out of my cunt, cute totally-not-fake-definitely-not-putting-on-a-show gasps and moans echoing into the night. The scent of need wafting through the open window and faint sounds of masturbation my calling card for any monsters nearby.

I think about “accidentally” tiring myself out so much I fall asleep atop the covers like that, limbs splayed out like a starfish with the dildo stuffed to the base in my cunt. Anyone could see the slutty mess I left myself in and invite themselves in, at this point it seems almost like an open invitation. But who would reach me on the third floor?

I think about my monster showing up in the dead of night, clamoring through the open window silently and with ease. Oftentimes it’s a werewolf or demon, other times it’s an alien or bundle of curious tentacles not from this reality. They take my sleeping form in, and tut at the stupidity of the human in front of them, thinking they could just leave themselves like this with the window open and think living on the third floor bought them any safety from beings like them.

Still, it’s a tantalizing sight. If they didn’t hear me, they could definitely smell me from miles away. And after seeing me sound asleep with a large toy stuffed in my cunt, well, they just have to fuck me. How could they leave such easy, needy prey alone? Clearly I needed to be bred.

They inspect me, feeling out my form to find me dead asleep, sniffing my crotch and tugging on the toy to find me still delightfully sensitive. They play with it, play with the toy in my cunt, pulsing it in and out as their dick grows hard at the sight and sound of the toy fucking me in my sleep, little gasps accompanying it. They think it would be all too easy to remove the toy and swap it out for their dick—and they do, finding my cunt has been prepped by the toy to fit them perfectly.

They pull out the toy and sink into me slowly. I whimper in my sleep from the feeling of their hot cock lodging itself in my cunt. It feels so good, and I’m just so helpless sleeping underneath them. They begin to grind into me, slowly picking up speed as they feel my cunt grow even wetter and they hear my little gasps and moans get louder. Soon they’re fucking me in earnest, not caring if I rouse from sleep or not to see them use my body like this. Sometimes I do, I’m aware but I don’t want them to stop, so I either stay in my half asleep state or wake up fully so they can hear me pleading them not to stop, how it feels so good, how I want them to cum in me so bad. Sometimes I don’t, their ministrations fueling a wild wet dream not too dissimilar from the reality of the monster fucking me asleep in my own bed that only makes me double my moans as the sensations from the dream become startling real. Either way, the result is always the same.

Both our peaks build until finally they slam into me deep, feeling my cunt tighten around their cock as they spurt thick ropes of cum into my depths and bring me to full orgasm. They cum for what feels like forever, still not stopping their movements as they’re determined to fuck their seed into my womb. If they possess a knot (they often do) this is where they pop it into my cunt, causing me to moan again as they fill me with thick cum until my belly visibly pooches, the knot tugging deliciously on my hole as they thrust. The feeling of them still fucking me with my cunt filled to the brim with their seed sends aftershocks throughout my body until I feel my orgasm come again.

They keep fucking their seed into me until they go soft and slip out. I want to whine but before I do, they take the dildo and force it into my cunt to the base and then some, plugging up my cunt. I moan loudly at being filled again. “Keep this safe for me til morning, okay?” They whisper in my ear wickedly, patting my pooched naked belly, sharp teeth glittering in the moonlight as they take their leave.

I do what they say, because why wouldn’t I? I always wake up so full and warm, cum leaking down my leg as I stand and the desire from the previous night finally satiated.

And I know I will be doing this again every night from now on, curious and aroused by what all manner of monsters may come through my window at night—maybe even multiple in a single night, if I’m lucky and word spreads.

.

[dairy-farmer]

Back to preach the church of my beloved! Civilian Tim! \( ^o^)/ rejoice!

You know who's LONELY? Damian.

He comes to the house of his Father to find not the titan his mother spoke of, but a broken man. One who is pulling himself together, slowly, painfully, with the help of his friends.

It seems SOMEONE ratted him out Clark Kent and Diana Prince, two totally random civilians *cough cough*. And they knew it was SERIOUS if an informant took the time to track down their secret identity. Pulled Bruce back from the edge as only his PEERS and EQUALS can. Yes sir, no emotional support Robin's HERE!

But... that is the problem.

The LAST Robin is now Todd. Who DIED in that uniform. Father is VEHEMENTLY against him wearing anything of the sort. All efforts to prove his worth only serving to somehow prove he is NOT worthy. He... he does not understand.

He takes Titus for another walk.

He is talking him for many walks, these days.

Accidentally wanders closer to a neighboring Manor then he intended. Wait... it's not empty? Aren't the Drake's in Peru? He checks his phone. They are. Then... who?

There, in the sunroom, is Timothy Drake. And he is BEAUTIFUL. Camera in hand, he has set up an artistic display, is attempting to capture just the right angle. Is made soft and golden in the light. Surrounded by lush greenery in Gothams otherwise bleak and stubborn weeds. He manages his shot. Face made soft in his little triumph, a private grin only Damian is there to witness.

Damian's mouth feels dry. His heart races. Face hot.

Everything feels different, after that day.

There is so much to LEARN.

Timothy is top of his class, unsurprisingly. A master of skateboarding. Has entered, WON, many of Gotham's Photography competitions. The compositions he enters are of course, exquisite. Damian studies all of it. His food preferences. How he takes his tea. What clothing he will and will not tolerate. His ideological stances. His internet history. Preferred camera brands.

Timothy is... is alone. Like him. Brilliant and unappreciated. The Heir made for the sake of an heir, who's Father's do not know what to do with them. The Drake's thought to marry him off, once. Before he came out. Are supportive but had no secondary plans. They barely had plans to begin with. Timothy endures.

They... they could be great together. Damian watches. Sees. How Timothy slips on his mask of social grace and affablility. A charming little prince. Perfectly calculated smiles and practiced PR laughs. Made to be loved by the elite. To be without flaw. It exhausts him.

Leaves stiff shoulders and aching feet. He could sooth them. Together, he could so easily imagine how they would lead this city to a better age. Him the Night, Timothy the Prince. Galas and bloodshed and Together. Never lonely again.

No one notices him watching.

He was trained by the best after all. And Bruce is too wrapped up in his drama to look. Damian... fixates. As only his mother's son could possibly fixate.

Tim? His attempts at dating end in abject failure. Every peer he tries to date? Some how their family gets exposed for criminals and they either end up in jail or leaving Gotham. A school mate? Gang or Goon, much the same. Dating site! Maybe date someone OUTSIDE of Gotham, he thinks.

Suddenly ghosted. Or they ALSO turn out to be criminals.

It's getting to be ridiculous.

It's like someone's taking out the competition or something! He throws back a drink in aggravation. Happy 18th Baby Wayne. Wooo. GDI he's gonna die single. Tim hides in a corner and sulks. I mean... what were the ODDS that the last one was a SUPERVILLIAN? Good apparently! Since this keeps happening!

Then? Oh.

Oh Baby Wayne Grew UP. Muscles for daaaays. Is that his favorite cologne? Huh, weird coincidence. Nice though. It's like someone tried to bundle every one of his preferences into one person. Aaand he's being DELIGHTFULLY manhandled back into a quiet corner~ Hello~~☆ Hi~♡

Damian? Here for his husband. They will be courting now. He has come to seduce you. Has everything planned out. Pick a season for our wedding and a preferred venue, he has everything else ready to go. Now excuse him while he eats you out until you cry, Timothy Wayne.

Drags you back to his bedroom and fills you, until you forget where you end and he begins. Fulfills every fantasy you've ever had and creates more you've dared not dream off. Desecrates every single surface we can find, until the whole Manor is painted with us. Then do it again in yours.

Damians long term plan pays off. He is an obsessive lil freak but Tim's deeply kinda into that. Does the AL Ghul name proud! Everyone else is horrified~☆

-🐼🐼🐼

damitim

damian obsessing over tim because of his emotionally absent father makes perfect sense!!

[alexprime]

Let's talk about Spock's Body Temperature! A great many fanfics have him as being warmer than the human average, even hot to the touch. Fanfics can write Spock however they wish to (and I adore reading all the different interpretations!) However, according to TOS, Spock runs quite a bit cooler than humans do! Alright, so Spock ends up in Sickbay a fair amount during TOS, and every single time you see the Body Function Panel behind him, it seems to show a different reading. Confusing, annoying, frustrating, especially as we all know that TOS canon can be... fluid. One potential explanation for the fluctuating readings is the very reason he's in sickbay to begin with: he's sick or injured. Pretty much every time he's in a sickbay bed, he's either hurt, ill, or recovering from being hurt or ill. ... Except for ONE time, during his physical in the episode 'The Naked Time'. I've made a handy little graphic for this below:

Spock claims the readings on the panel in 'The Naked Time' are, "Perfectly normal for me, Doctor, thank you." Which would mean that his shown temperature should be accurate as well. Therefore, Spock's body temperature is approximately 92 Degrees Fahrenheit / 33 Degrees Celsius. This means that Spock actually runs quite a bit cooler than the average human temperature. As a fic reader, I adore reading different portrayals of Spock, and reading descriptions of him running hot can be lovely! However, as a fic writer myself, one thing I've really come to love is the contrast between Spock's personality to his temperature! I'll let the following quote from my fic, K'oh-nar, explain the reason why the contrast is fun to play with:

[Excerpt from Chapter 11:] Spock’s hand in his own was slack, but it was comfortable to hold now. He recalled how cold the Vulcan had been; how cradling those hands in his own felt like cupping ice. The fingers had been purple from the temperature, and he’d had the worst fear that moving them too suddenly would snap them off like icicles. They were back to normal in his grip; he examined the differences between them idly, marveling at the contrast of Spock’s olive skin against his own tan. The skin was cool—cooler than human body temperature—but that was normal for Spock.

Some part of him had always found that odd. He was used to it by now, but he remembered it had been startling to find out that Spock ran colder than humans did. It just… didn’t seem fitting. Everything about Spock always felt so warm to him; gentle, calming, kind. It was present in the soft brown of his eyes and the private not-smile he wore when being teased. There was nothing—not a single thing—about Spock that had ever seemed cold to him. Other Vulcans, sure; he hardly associated warmth or tenderness with the likes of the woman T’Pring, or her beau, what’s-his-name. The one with the stinkface. Stan? Stonk?

He'd described him as such to Spock once, using those and other colorfully insulting names. In turn, he had been delightfully and memorably treated to the subtle, nearly unnoticeable spasm of Spock choking on his tea.

[lizordula]

Reminders

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Summary: A cozy afternoon with your favorite redhead, filled with hot chocolate, a first, and memories being made.

Warnings: ---

Word Count: ~1.1k

A/N: Just a short fluffy fic to match the chilly winter season ^^

It's a late afternoon on a quiet November day. Outside, the sun is setting, and its last remaining rays of light flood your apartment, casting an incandescent, orangy glow into your living room. Round stains litter the wooden surface of your couch table like a minimalistic painting of soap bubbles, left behind by the mugs of hot chocolate you had earlier. 

AO3 Link

(Your mother always admonishes you for not using any coasters whenever she comes over, warning you that someday the oak might stain, but it doesn't bother you much. You find it charming when a home carries physical reminders of the people who have lived in it, epitomizing their moments of perfectly mundane joy.)

You smile fondly at the redhead lying in your arms, whose soft snoring is drowned out by the ambient noise of The Princess Pride playing quietly in the background. Her face peaks out from behind the curtain of her vivid hair, and gentle puffs of air escape her parted lips, blowing a strand of hair on her face back and forth. Her brows are knitted ever so slightly, making you wonder what she is dreaming about. 

Today, Abbott's second-graders went down to the skating rink at Delaware River to sell cookies and raise money for their joined end-of-year Christmas party. Afterward, Melissa came straight to your apartment. She let herself in with the spare key you had made for her, teeth still chattering, her cheeks and the tip of her nose delightfully flushed from the chilly weather. She unwrapped her emerald scarf and shrugged off her leather jacket. As you rose to your tiptoes and kissed her hello, Melissa's icy fingertips slithered underneath your plaid flannel shirt, making you yelp in surprise. The redhead pulled back with a teasing grin, reluctantly detangling her hands from the warm confines of your clothes, and you decided that hot chocolate was in order. 

That's how you wound up on the couch, curled into Melissa's side and sipping on winter's liquid gold while she told you about her day, fondly recounting how she had to wrangle students who escaped onto the rink back to the stand and how the little rascals made her proud with their negotiating skills. Here and there, a yawn slipped into her sentences, so you stood up to place the mugs in the kitchen sink and suggested she take a nap. 

She's not that tired, she insisted as she settled between your legs and laid her head on your chest, one hand thrown over your torso, Let's just watch a movie.

Not even halfway into the movie, she drifted off, soothed into the realm of unconsciousness by your fingers playing with her hair and the rhythmic pattern of your chest rising and falling beneath her head. Soon, her grip on you slackened, and her breathing evened out. Fondness had bloomed in your chest when you noticed how soft and unguarded Melissa looked.

You have been sitting like this for nearly an hour now. Your neck hurts from having to turn your head at the TV at all times, and you are pretty sure that your right foot, which has been tucked underneath Melissa's legs for warmth, has gone numb. Still, you haven't dared to move in trepidation of startling the redhead out of her peaceful slumber.

(In your relationship, it has taken Melissa a lot of time to even let you be the big spoon, never mind fall asleep in your arms, so it warms your heart that she feels comfortable and safe enough with you to let her guard down like this. The moment is precious to you, as is Melissa, and you want to preserve it as long as possible.)

The movie is almost over when Melissa stirs in your lap. You watch as she slowly comes to, lifting her head and blinking her eyes groggily. Her hair is slightly disheveled, so you reach out and gently smooth an errant strand of hair behind her ear. At your touch, she lifts her head and locks eyes with you, giving you a lazy smile.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," you mutter quietly, not because you don't want to startle Melissa, but because it feels appropriate to speak in whispers when the light filters in and bathes her in a reverent glow, her hair fanned across your chest like a copper halo.

Melissa smiles at the obviously teasing tone in your voice and stretches her limbs, making her shoulder pop. "How long was I out?" she rasps out.

God, you love how gravelly her voice sounds after sleep.

"Almost an hour," you say quietly and slide your hands to Melissa's lower back, softly kneading where she will no doubt feel the consequences of her sleeping position later on. "I couldn't bear to wake you. You looked so peaceful."

Melissa hums in contentment. "Well, thank you for being my human pillow."

You melt when Melissa, instead of sitting up, rests her head on your stomach again and tightens her grip around you. "Always," you reply warmly, "feeling better?"

"Mh, much better," Melissa murmurs against your flannel shirt. You inhale sharply when she slides the hem up to reveal your hipbone and places a chaste kiss against your skin there. "In fact, my energy is fully replenished."

You shiver when the air hits your exposed skin and watch intently as Melissa turns around in your grasp and props herself up, now crawling up between your legs.

"That does sound good," you croak and clear your throat. You tell yourself that your voice only throttles from being used at full volume again. "Not here, though. I need to get some circulation back in my body."

Melissa grimaces slightly when she looks down at your squished position, realizing you probably haven't moved in more than an hour.

"Sorry," she winces and quickly detangles from you, "come on." She holds out her hands, and you gladly take them, letting yourself get hoisted up into a standing position. Melissa's hands grasp your hips as you steady yourself and lift the heels of your feet alternatingly to make the pinpricks traveling up your legs disappear.

"Normally, I'm the one that has to get hoisted out off the couch," Melissa remarks, mirth evident in her voice. 

You snort at her jab and disengage from her grasp to turn off the TV and blow out the candles. Melissa points at the circular stains on the coffee table. "Should I wipe these off for ya, hun?"

Tilting your head in contemplation, you consider the rings of hot chocolate. You smile to yourself, then, remembering your mother's words.

"Leave them."

[luminouslywriting]

Ok weird request, Bob headcannons them getting hard and moaning by accident while your not in a relathionship, things can escalate from there or not ,obviously if you don't feel comfortable writing this that's totally fine.

Oh Nonny this one was delightfully wicked and so fun haha! As always, enjoy and reminder that my requests are open! Feel free to spam me as much as you'd like haha! I'm taking the day off and lounging by the pool to help me feel better so I'm pretty pleased with that!

More under the cut, cut for length, spice under the cut:

Dick Winters:

-Mortified to the max

-Like this man is a blushing upset mess and apologizing and stammering out how it was an accident

-Will not look you in the eyes for several days or weeks, depending on how loud the moan was haha

-Probably tells Nixon about it because he's so embarrassed and Nixon teases him about it

-This is not going to help him in his feelings for you and is going to be something that he wants to genuinely forget and hope that you forget.

-Though if you thought it was hot and admit it to him, he'll be super flattered and will definitely finally make a move.

Lewis Nixon:

-Probably drunk when he does it and not as embarrassed as he should be?? The thing about him is that he knew he was drunk and it was a normal human response

-He'll definitely apologize when he sobers up about things but it's not a weird point between the two of you

-Might even attempt to get himself soberly locked in the closet with you so that he can do it again sober

-And at that point, handsy makeout session that absolutely ends in someone walking in on the two of you

-But at least you two get together by the end of it??

Ronald Speirs:

-Internally embarrassed and feeling like the WORST, externally really chill about it as you reassure him that it's perfectly normal and fine

-He definitely overthinks and hyperfixates on this for WAY too long and is trying to figure out if he actually likes you or if he's just physically attracted to you

-But when he finally figures it out, it's this really simple statement about how it's not just a physical reaction and how he really likes you

-This might result in locking yourselves in the nearest bedroom and figuring out how to make more of those pretty moans that you heard haha

-Turns out, you're just as in love with him as he is with you and he's perfectly pleased with that

-Wonders what would've happened if he had actually figured it out sooner because he's really happy with you

Buck Compton:

-Stammering an apology and blushing

-Will absolutely need some space so he can recover his pride and not be super embarrassed or a wreck around you

-Probably writes out an apology to you because he doesn't want you to feel weird around him

-Then further writes a little letter about how he actually feels and you find said letter by mistake

-So if you go up and kiss him, then all will work out on its own haha

-Happy if it all works out in the end

Carwood Lipton:

-Immediate apologies and avoiding eye contact. He knows he's messed up somehow and he is NOT the type to do that to a lady.

-It will take you approaching him about the situation and about your feelings for him to actually make a move.

-Even then, he's super shy about the moaning and feels embarrassed whenever it happens.

-Keep practicing with him though, he'll get more comfortable being vocal haha

-Or purposely try to tease him in public and he'll figure out what works for him REAL quick, I promise haha

-Either way, he's consistently embarrassed about it throughout your relationship whenever it happens though

Joseph Liebgott:

-Let's say for the sake of his personality, this was intentional on your part because he hadn't made a move yet. So whatever sort of teasing that you did to make it happen, he's just gonna roll with it.

-Initially a little embarrassed but it fades quickly

-This turns into the world's fastest makeout session with the both of you getting handsy

-Public teasing for the two of you? Absolutely a fact of matter in your newfound relationship

-Don't worry, he fully intends on getting you back for the fact that you technically made the first move in the relationship—and you'll get your dues in full honey

-Never shy about his moaning or the fact that he's hard—he will tell you and he will expect to have it taken care of post-haste haha

Donald Malarkey:

-Swearing up a panicked storm about it because NO, FOUL, it was an accident

-Requires a whole 48 hours of space because he's literally so embarrassed and not having it with you

-Also comes back to you and admits that there's only one person he wants to have him help take care of things and it's you

-It might be the weirdest sweetest thing you've ever heard??

-But I digress—he is NOT into teasing in any way, but any sort of physical contact he can have with you is a turn on for him.

-Clingy king to the max after this

Eugene Roe:

-French swears, French swears, French swears, mortification, feeling a little humbled lol

-Apologizes very quickly and tries to get space

-But if you grab his arm and kiss him, he loses all track of where his mindset was and not a single brain cell will be present

-Offer to take care of things for him—he'll probably tell you that he loves you in the middle of it

-And then he'll insist on taking care of YOU at that point

-This absolutely turns into soft and sweet sex with doc haha

Bill Guarnere:

-Also swears and feels super bad about it because he doesn't want you to feel like you HAVE to do anything with him

-Locate this man immediately and find a nice wall that you can talk near, because that wall is about to become the only thing holding you up lol

-Listen, if you admit that you didn't mind and that you were also turned on by what he did, he's going to go FERAL

-I'm talking holding your hands above you head as he kisses you and trying to keep the both of you quiet because he's got a LOT of feelings

-Is a pretty vocal guy so you might have to wait for some actual alone time before anything gets taken care of or done haha

-Either way, you two end up together pretty quickly

Joe Toye:

-Apologizes, removes himself from the situation, tries not to think about it ever again

-Thinks about it WAY TOO much though and ends up trying to take care of things himself for a while

-Until he decides that it's just not gonna work and he can't do it without you....

-At which point, he locates you, admits how he's feeling, and says that he hopes to have some time alone with you soon

-Still tries to make things really romantic between the two of you and special

-Consistently dreams about you until you get together, and then he's much worse haha

George Luz:

-This sweet loudmouth lets that moan slip and he knows immediately that he's colossally messed up

-But uh, in the event you're not bothered by that, he's going to be even more turned on and vocal

-This quickly descends into sex for the two of you

-But you're not together together yet?? So it requires some conversations afterwards for it to turn into a relationship

-He's still trying to figure out his feelings and you might be the person to say that you love him first

-At that point, he's so enamored and committed to you that it's a win-win situation haha

[smehur]

Drarry Fic Recs #3

Storm in a Teacup by @faith2wood

For reasons he'd rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter's hair. This cannot end well.

It seems I can't put together a rec list without at least one story by Faith Wood. This one's soft in all the delightful ways I came to expect from the pen of my favorite author, with a sharp little pang of uncertainty that made it all the sweeter, and possibly the best-executed piece of dialog across all my reading. A beautiful fic that I'll be going back to over and over again.

Two Houses by @tackytigerfic

Two households, both alike in... meddling Floo connections, apparently? Draco Malfoy is a highly professional and well-respected Ministry official, with a demanding schedule, a loving son, and—through no fault of his own—a faulty Floo connection that keeps regurgitating the Minister for Magic through his fireplace.

I already gushed about this story on here, but I'm going to do it again. It'd be impossible to overstate how much I loved it. From the world-building surrounding the two magical estates, sprinkled with a wealth of delectable little details, to the delightfully mature and tender romance. Slow burn in 11k? I didn't think it could be done either, but here we are. There was this beautiful scene where Harry said that being around Draco is restful. What a perfect word! It captures everything I enjoyed about this fic: the warmth and the contentment and the unwavering certainty that everything would work out. What a joy to read!

everything you could ever want by @eleadore

Coming back to Hogwarts has given Harry more time to reflect than he really wanted, and he's learned he never quite stopped being the envious little boy in the closet. Wanting and wanting, never to have. If what Harry wants is pain, who better than Draco Malfoy to provide?

Oh, man. Where do I even start? Talking about this fic feels a bit like talking about a a close friend: no matter what I say, I know I won't do justice to just how much it affected me. It charmed me, and tugged on my heartstrings, and it still has a grip on my imagination. Reading it was like falling in love: first, with the reticent, stopped-up Harry bursting with passion he's unable to express or act upon; and then, even harder, with the portrayal of Draco, whose thoughts and feelings we can only guess at till the very end. And even then, he doesn't speak: his answer is in the sweep of his lashes. Ahhh. Such beautiful prose and stunning characterization. Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, I stay.

crawlin' helpless on the floor by @stationintern

It doesn't take much to torment a man when he's three broken contracts away from being out of a job and down a newspaper.

What a lovely little gem of a fic! Astonishing, how much atmosphere and feeling it delivers in less than 2k. A unique idea too (at least in my reading so far), that Harry and Draco as adults (and friends) might start a business together - and that it might not work out. Incredibly vivid, captivating, and rewarding. 10/10 will read again.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Soft and sweet, and sizzling hot. I'm not sure I entirely buy a Harry who gets confused and clumsy to the point of losing his language when confronted with Draco's charms, but it's so much fun to read and this fic pulls it off perfectly. Draco wearing lace underwear is canon for me now.

That Old Black Magic by @bixgirl1

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

I'll be honest - I picked this up to see if a much-recommended author of some of this fandom's classics could sell me a trope I dislike (in this case, arranged marriage). And the answer is a loud, enthusiastic YES. Lol. I was sold on it within the first half of the first chapter. The premise is incredibly contrived, but the story built on it is so strong and compelling that I just didn't care. The pacing is phenomenal and the sex scenes are to die for. This is a whole new level of erotic prose for me; an amazing achievement, to have so little repetition, to infuse every encounter with so much energy and passion, even though it's a long story with many an encounter. It's just ridiculously good. I couldn't put it down and I'm already tempted to pick it right back up again.

I love this fandom. ��️

[zoeykallus]

Yo yo! If you're taking requests still could I pls nab maybe some Spicy HC of TBB + Rex *finishing* untouched? Like maybe they are so caught up in the heat of the moment or super touch starved and they can't help themselves. I love your writing so fkn much goddamn its just *chefs kiss*

Aloha!

I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for this, but it took me some time to get here through my asks and get through some personal stuff, you know to be in the right mood to write this and all... Well, without any further ado, here come your HCs.

You didn't mention a gender, so as always if not asked for something else, I'll go with a fem!reader. Hope that's okay! ... now on to the dirty stuff....

The Bad Batch /Rex x Fem!Reader HCs - A Ghostly Touch

Warnings: Strongly Suggestive/Consensual Sexual Content/Smut/Edging/Consensual Bondage/18+

_________________

Hunter

His senses are full of you. Your hormones have literally flooded him. Hunter's head is dipped between your thighs, his tongue dancing quickly and deftly on your clit, two fingers between your slick walls.

His cock is almost painfully hard, pulsing, hypersensitive. The last time you were intimate was a while ago, and your scent and the taste of your arousal on his tongue is driving him almost insane.

He listens to your moans, your little excited sighs that are like music to his ears. His hard length is pressed into the sheets, the mattress, while his tongue plays intensely with your pearl. His lips suck your clit perfectly, while his tongue tip, exerting perfect pressure in quick little circles, delightfully teases the sensitive little knot of nerves.

Hunter's muscles begin to quiver, he is so starved for you, his senses so overwhelmed by your sounds, your smell your taste on his nimble tongue.

It's just a tiny movement, his pelvis pressing a little harder into the mattress, his cock grazing the fabric of the sheets with a little emphasis. In the next moment, he grunts in surprise into your pubic as his orgasm bursts over him with explosive intensity. He feels his warm seed spreading out beneath him on the sheets.

A little out of breath, his head briefly pops up between your thighs. Your eyes meet, and you see by his face how surprised and a little beside himself Hunter is.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, though breathlessly.

He swallows and says a little meekly, "Sorry, I think I just messed up your sheets."

Tech

Kissing, pumping, licking, you tease him for quite a while. Always on the edge, and yet you don't let him slide into the release he craves. But Tech likes that, he asks you for it often, it's one of his kinks. Your lips and tongue keep sliding along his cock, only to let go of him as soon as he's about to cum.

Actually, he should be working, when you came into the cockpit, Tech was lying under the console, between loosely hanging cables. But you laid down next to him under the console and whispered dirty and sweet nothings to him until he finally sat down in the pilot seat and dropped his pants.

Sweat is on his forehead, his muscles are tense, he's breathing hard, the look on his face is adorably helpless. The way he looks at you, you know he worships you and his salvation is in your hands, lips and tongue.

Shakily, he adjusts his goggles with his index finger, licks his lips and swallows.

"Honey, I don't know how much longer I can take this".

A smile spreads across your lips. You look up at Tech with a naughty glint in your eye. His hard length standing erect in front of your nose, you purse your lips and breathe a hot exhale on his hypersensitive cock.

Tech's eyes tear open, a surprised groan comes from his mouth, you can see his testicles tighten and his cock pulsate, moments later his seed spurts from the small slit at the swollen, velvety tip.

Tech emits a silent curse through clenched teeth. He slumps backward in the pilot's chair, breathing hard and sweaty. With a soft laugh, you climb happily onto his lap and beam at him.

You ask him tenderly with a gentle little kiss, "How was that?"

After another deep breath, he smiles at you and says, "Exceptional."

Echo

His mind has long since departed, at least that's how it feels to him. You are alone for the first time, for the first time about to become really intimate, and he sees you here and now, for the first time naked and standing in front of him in all your beauty.

His cock has just reached diamond hardness level, just from the sight of you, just at the thought of being allowed to touch your warm, naked skin. He kisses your breasts and his hand playfully wanders down your body.

Echo is as excited as probably never before, he has waited patiently for this moment for a long time. He sits on your desk chair, and you stand in front of him. His heart is racing, his hard manhood is pulsating, the tip slightly red and swollen.

Your hand playfully strokes along his wonderful cock, and you say suggestively, "I can't wait for you to penetrate me."

Echo expels a shaky breath, just the thought making his hormones go crazy. As you turn your backside to him with a lewd little smile and bend over the table, you hear a soft, startled sound come out of his mouth. Shortly after, you feel something warm splatter against your thighs and buns.

"What…"

Surprised, you look around to see Echo looking up at you from his seat in your office chair, startled, downright horrified.

"I'm so sorry that… that's never happened to me before! It's just, we've waited so long to be intimate with each other, it's been a long time since I…. And I'm just overwhelmed by you."

You see the panic in his gaze and smile softly at him.

"That's alright Echo, you'll have longer stamina on the second try".

You kiss his forehead and say, "Will you help me clean myself up before we continue?"

Echo nods eagerly.

"Of course."

After a brief pause, he whispers, pressing a kiss to your ear, "Thank you, beautiful."

"For what?"

"For your understanding"

Wrecker

Your big man is completely exhausted. Sweating, Wrecker lies in the sheets, you've been teasing him for quite a while, with hands, lips and tongue. His hard length is reddened and swollen at the tip, every little touch makes him whimper.

"This is absolute torture, the sweetest torture there is, but torture nonetheless, sweetheart," he says, breathing heavily, his brow furrowed, his massive fingers clawed into the sheet that's already partially torn under his tense grip.

As you chuckle softly, you hear a low growl come deep from his chest. All of a sudden he sits up, grabs you and pushes you into the sheets. A startled exclamation escapes you as his head dives between your naked thighs, and he drills his powerful tongue into your pussy without warning, while the tip of his nose rubs over your clit.

Within seconds, you are moaning his name over and over as he fucks you with his massive tongue. He moans into your pussy, his hard cock pressed into the mattress beneath him. He is so horny that it almost hurts.

As if starved, he licks you out, his tongue greedily speeds into your little hole again and again while the friction caused by his nose on your pearl remains. His strong hands hold your thighs apart, trembling with excited tension in his hard yet careful grip.

He murmurs into your pubic, "Tastes good…. mmmphf, babe I think I'm about to cum".

As you cry out in lust, succumbing to your orgasm, he's rutting his cock into the mattress, his whole body tense, and finally the release he's been longing for comes for him too. A deep growl escapes from his throat and enters your still quivering pussy, his head still resting between your thighs.

You can see how his muscles finally lose their tension. Lazily, he licks your oversensitive pussy a few times and grins as you twitch in his grip.

Crosshair

He behaved like a spoiled brat. It took forever to convince him to let you tie him up. Crosshair and you came up with a safeword and today, for once, as he emphasized, you were supposed to be in control and in charge of your intimacies, including his.

The look with which he looks at you penetratingly was challenging at first. As you undressed in front of him, his pupils dilated and hunger mingled with the challenge in his expression. As you sit down in front of him, wide-legged in a large armchair, his eyes fall on the velvety bloom of your pussy, between your thighs, and he licks his lips. He's tied to his chair, though, and can't move.

Crosshair swallows, he frowns as you take a vibrator and stimulate your clit, right in front of him. For a little while, not too long, he is quiet. You can clearly see the bulge in his pants.

Finally, he complains, "Come on, at least let me participate in some way".

You smile cheekily and say, "I do, watching is also a way of participating".

Crosshair grits his teeth.

"Kitten, you are on thin ice, you know I will get back at you".

You bite your lower lip, of course you know that, and he knows you are aware of it. He slides restlessly back and forth on his chair, only a few millimeters because his shackles don't allow anymore.

He snorts, and reluctantly says, almost begging, "At least free my cock, it's really uncomfortable like this".

But you let him squirm for quite a while, stroking yourself, close to his nose, swinging your naked body and touching yourself. His gaze grows more pleading, more hungry. When Crosshair looks like he might burst at any moment, you finally relent.

You unzip his pants, pull down his underpants, and his hard cock plops out, hard, gently curved, veiny and gorgeous. It's just a gossamer touch of your fingers, but the next moment he tears open his eyes in alarm, and you feel his hot seed spurt onto your bare breasts, down your neck and onto your chin.

His expression is hard to interpret, there is a certain anger, shame and perhaps confusion in it. Crosshair isn't one of those who is quick or early to cum, you both know that. But something about the whole situation has taken him here and now prematurely, perhaps he liked the shackles a lot better than he wanted to admit.

"You better untie me, Kitten, right now!"

You blink, but comply with his request directly. No sooner is he freed from his bonds than his hand darts forward and grabs your chin in a demanding manner, ignoring the fact that he's just reaching into his own cum.

"I hope you're prepared, Missy," he growls.

His face comes closer, and much more gently, close to your ear he says, "You remember the safeword?"

"Yes, I remember," you say, a little breathlessly.

"Good."

The next moment, he pushes you not so gently onto the bed and begins to undress.

"Time for some punishment" he says with a smirk.

You're in for a long, hot night.

Rex

Clad only in panties, you sit on his lap. You haven't seen each other for weeks, a month and a half to be exact, an agonizingly long eternity. When Rex unexpectedly comes to your apartment, a week earlier than expected, you immediately pounce on him. You rip off his armor and push him onto the sofa.

Rex doesn't complain, not at all, at first he's surprised, but he's at least as starved as you are. His strong hands knead your buns while you shamelessly rub against the bulge in his Blacks pants.

Between wild kisses he says breathlessly, "Darling, this could be over pretty quickly if you don't stop rubbing yourself against me like that…. come on, let me spoil you a little before we do something else".

You don't want to stop though, clinging to him, you just want to feel him, right now you don't want anything else, you don't care if he cums before you can do more, you've already scheduled several rounds in your head anyway.

Rex moans softly, and his hands are still gripped hard in your buns.

"My love… wait…"

Your heart is hammering in your chest, just like his. You finally pull yourself together and hold still, leaning back a tiny bit to look into his face. Sweat is on his brow, he looks breathless, and he smiles wryly at you.

"That was close," he says, scratching the back of his head with a nervous little laugh.

"I just wanted to feel you"

Rex smirks.

"I want to feel you too, beautiful."

You reach down, wanting to pull down his pants, Rex is surprised, trying to stop you but he reacts too late. He is so starved and oversensitive, the small movement, your hand and the fabric brushing along his hard length as you pull down his pants are too much.

The next moment you feel his hot seed, splattering onto your wrist and lap, and Rex wincing beneath you.

"Fuck…" he curses softly, startled.

You smirk at him.

"It's okay, we still have the whole night ahead of us."

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

[carlsdarling]

Carl x reader smut where both have a breeding kink

Breed me, Carl

Y/N and Carl share a breeding kink... Minimal plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex

You and Carl sat snuggled together in the back seat of the car, with Michonne driving. You had been on a supply run, but hadn't found anything much, so it was decided to head back to Alexandria early. You felt Carl's hand on your knee and pressed even closer to him, kissing him on the cheek. "Shall we go to my room when we get home?" he asked in a low voice.

You giggled. "Why not?"

Daryl in the passenger seat had overheard and rolled his eyes meaningfully. "You guys better use protection. I don't want another little asskicker around here."

When the door closed behind you both a little later you started kissing heatedly. You fumbled frantically with Carl's belt and the buttons of his jeans until he was standing in front of you with his pants down and you could finally stroke his cock, which you would have preferred to do while still in the car. He immediately started moaning and bucking his hips. His tip was just perfectly shaped and slightly thicker than his shaft, Carl was always able to give you excellent pleasure with it. You teetered over to his bed, tearing off the rest of your clothes. Carl knew how much you were into him licking and sucking on your nipples, so he did that first until you were completely wanting and endlessly horny. On Carl's nightstand, as always, was a box with condoms.

"Is it safe today?" he asked hopefully, looking at you with his eyes glazed with lust. His cheeks were delightfully flushed, his rosy lips slightly parted.

You were keeping an accurate track on your periods, so that you could always determine the most and least fertile days. Because Carl and you both loved nothing more than having sex condom-free. The sensation of feeling each other bare was beyond compare. So you let Carl go raw, whenever the calendar would allow it. (If Rick or Michonne ever found out about it, they'd probably chop Carl's head off.)

Besides, you both found the thought of breeding highly arousing, even if you didn't really want to risk pregnancy. The breeding kink was one thing you and Carl shared. You loved it when Carl squirted inside you, hot and horny, and how his cum slowly oozed out of you afterwards, even hours later. How it looked, smelled, and felt. Walking around Alexandria, among all the people, and feeling Carl's jizz gradually dripping out of your pussy and staining your panties, a dirty and forbidden and horny little secret. To be the girl who was fucked by Carl Grimes and smelled of him and had his cum all over her.

Carl's face flushed with delight when he heard the good news. "Breed me, Carl," you moaned and lay down on the bed in front of him, legs spread wide, presenting yourself to him. You both liked the missionary position best because you could look at each other, kiss and caress while fucking. And for other reasons.

Carl penetrated your hot, wet pussy, it was so intense, he filled you completely. "You're so tight," he gasped, and began thrusting eagerly. You stroked his slender hips and firm buttocks, feeling his muscles working as he railed you passionately. He paused, not wanting to cum too early.

"Carl, I love you so much, keep going," you murmured, trembling with arousal.

Slowly he continued his movements. "I'm already cumming , sorry," he gasped a moment later.

"Never mind, me too," you assured him.

Carl propped himself up on his hands, and you both looked down as he started cumming hard now, sliding his cock out for a moment so that you could see the cum squirting out of his reddened, wet tip in bursts; it was sticky, hot, and Carl ejaculated a large amount, thrusting into your pussy again and again, then pulling it out once more. "I'm still squirting," he moaned, shooting the rest of his load on your belly. Afterwards, exhausted, you two lay together and kissed tenderly. "Let me see," Carl asked a moment later as you got up to go to the bathroom. You stood in front of the bed, and Carl made you spread your legs slightly because he wanted to watch his cum dripping out of you and running down the inside of your thigh. "I really have the hots for you when you're covered in my cum," he whispered, licking it off.

[acernusaurus]

Legends' Gifts For The Avalance Baby's First Birthday

I was thinking about this for fic reasons but it quickly evolved into its own thing. Let me know if you've got any other ideas.

Ray and Nora

They would give a useful invention and/or magical charm. I'm thinking something that would make parents' lives easier without being an untested, potentially dangerous device around an infant/toddler.

Kendra and/or Carter

Separate or together (I'm not really a fan of the comics direction) I think they would get the most normal gifts as the people who have been parents many times.

Mick

Crème brûlée torch. 'It's for food' is his only explanation when anyone questions it.

Jax

Custom made plastic throwing stars

(Curse AI for being evil and forcing me to Photoshop my own dang nonsense)

Nate and Zari

A set of funny/cute shirts. Stuff like: 'Future ninja', 'My favorite uncle is a Historian', gamer stuff, etc. And maybe something from the ancestors that they say every baby should have.

Behrad

I feel like he would write the baby a song as his gift. And when it ends up on his first album in his own time the kid can't tell anyone about it being hers.

Gary

I think he'd stick with simple: stuffed octopus. Or go way too wild and try to buy everything.

Wally

A trinket from his travels.

Zari

Mithra Merch. Zari doesn't even need to bring it from the future. She happens to know a certain influencer's passwords and promo codes and puts the baby on the list for a very large Dragon Girl fan package.

Charlie

Bass guitar. 100% stolen from someone famous.

Mona

A ton of kids books

Astra

Astra would waffle over what babies want for their birthday and then finally just settle on giving her money.

Spooner

Mushroom plush. It was supposed to be a joke but it becomes the kids main lovey because kids are delightfully unpredictable.

(I didn't expect to have a picture for this one but I stumbled across this while shopping and it was perfect)

Gwyn

Haunted doll (not intentionally). Zari lends Gwyn $50, which already freaks him out (inflation calculator says it's ~$900). And when he tries to go to the mall he walks into the Macy's (a name he recognizes) but enters through the underwear-section door and he instantly turns back around to walk out. Eventually he finds an antique store with this perfectly acceptable children's gift and she is 100% haunted but the ghost is chill.

(I cruised through the doll aisle at a thrift store to find one I liked for this)

Gideon

Gideon has only known one baby personally so I think she'd go with some hot 22nd century or historic toy that was Jonas' favorite as a baby. Or she'd pick the toy with the best reviews at the exact time of the birthday.

[makeyoumine69]

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐲 (𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐒𝐮𝐛!𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲)

— PAIRING: Sub!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Your body, his temple.

— WARNINGS: Oral sex (reader receiving), sex toys, edging (kinda), overstimulation, cum play, foot jobs, teasing, Praise Kink, dirty talk, pet names and maybe some more :D

— WORDCOUNT: Around 1k

— A/N: Another attempt at writing Sub!Patty smut before I finally write something long and serious. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [AO3]

A nasty cacophony of Patrick's little whimpers and the buzzing sound of a vibrating egg filled up his bedroom, making the two of you lose yourselves faster than you had ever imagined. It was shocking for him to not be in charge and still receive so much pleasure. As for you, it was something you had always dreamed of, having control over such a powerful, strong man.

A little harshly, you pulled at Bateman's messy curls, bringing him closer to your wet slit as he was on his knees next to the bed, his hands tied and your legs resting on his broad shoulders.

"Mmhmm, (Y/N)," his low, needy groan vibrated so delightfully against your swollen clit. "You taste like heaven." He crooned before planting small pecks along the inner side of your thigh.

Bowing your head down, you chuckled at his cute remark and stroked his cheek, giving him a short break. "Mmm you're such an Angel," you patted his head, enjoying the way his perfectly shaped eyebrows knit together as the vibrating egg relentlessly stimulated his prostate. "Feeling good, my love?"

He just gasped and glanced at you, his face so red and sweaty that you couldn't help but grab his chin, causing a muffled whimper to escape his wet, plush lips.

"Y-yes," was all he could mutter, closing his eyes from the constant vibration in his tight inner channel. "I can't get enough of your p-pussy...argh!"

Patrick's shaky wail echoed across the room as you pulled him closer to kiss him hard on the lips, sucking his tongue but not letting him go too far. Damn, he was such a needy kitten, opening his mouth so obediently and allowing you to turn his head the way you wanted. Almost breathless, you broke the kiss and nipped at his neck, marking his soft skin.

"Mmm, yes..." he moaned and closed his eyes, fidgeting on his knees, you could feel his body shaking under your touch as his roped hands desperately wanted to worship your thighs. "I want more...please, darling."

"More of this?" You grabbed the back of his head and spread your wet folds in front of his flushed face, he instantly licked his lips before looking up into your eyes, begging:

"Yeah, I want all of this..." he mumbled, his eyes rolling back into his head from being so overstimulated. "Mmm-FUCK!" 

He growled as his dick accidentally brushed against the edge of the bed, and that almost pushed him over the edge.

"Shh, I got you," you soothed him, pinching his cheek and pecking his nose. "You'll get what you want..."

With a mischievous smile, you took the remote and changed the vibration regime, making it even more intense. Bateman squealed almost immediately and fell between your legs, breathing heavily from being so close.

Taking advantage of the moment, you looped your hips tightly around his head and lay on your back as his greedy mouth was devouring your cunt like it was made just for eating your pussy.

"Mmm, you're such a g-good boy," you cupped your breasts, teasing your engorged nipples as you desperately chased your release. "Yes, yes, keep going! A-ahh!!"

Slurping at your soaked slit, Patrick leaned on his fists, allowing you to use his face and never stopped sucking on your sensitive bud. Fuck, his sexy whimpering against your flesh sounded so delicious, so damn hot. 

“I’mma cum, Angel, I….I’mma cummm-AAW!” You screamed loudly, convulsing and clawing at his scalp as your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. "Ahh! Patty...Mmmhhh!"

Quivering, you tightened your grip around his neck and arched your back toward his face as he continued lapping at your throbbing cunt, forcing your soft walls to clench again and again around his strong tongue. But even after you stopped shaking, Bateman's mouth was still locked on your succulent pussy, so you had to pull him away as the overstimulation hit you hard.

"E-enough, baby," you tugged at his hair a little harder to make him behave. "You need to learn when to stop."

Chuckling, you admired his blushing face coated in your sweet juices, his eyes so fucking fuzzy and his lips so swollen, so red. This sight was completely hypnotizing.

"I'm sorry," Patrick mumbled, looking up at you while you were still pulling at his sweaty hair. "Can I c-cum, please? I can't hold it any longer."

A satisfied humming escaped your mouth as you let go of his brown locks and demanded in a stern voice: "Stay on your knees, my little needy Angel!"

Of course, Bateman obeyed because he had no choice. As you crawled closer to the edge of the bed, he probably thought you were going to pull out the vibrating egg, but instead you trapped his rock-hard dick between your feet, as you began to rub them against it. 

"Mmm-fuck…aaah!" With an obscene sound, Patrick threw his head back, his whole body tensed like a string and you could see the veins on his massive muscles.

"You like that?"

"Yeah..."

"Louder, Patty!" You teased him as you stopped moving for a second.

"FUCK…YES!YES-S!"

"Good boy," one long stroke and you felt his cock twitching between your feet, so you kept pumping until his hot liquid spilled onto your skin. "Mmm, just like that, Angel! Cum all over your pretty belly!"

Your praising voice only took him higher, coaxing his thick cock to unload more of his dense cum. Smirking, you watched him writhe uncontrollably on his knees beside you, covered in his own seed, and this scene almost caused you to climax again.

Satisfied, you turned off the vibrator and smeared his warm cum along his toned abs before suddenly joining him on the floor to taste him and then share it with him as you licked his cum off his perfect torso and pulled him into a deep kiss, forcing him to moan into your mouth.

Later, you nuzzled his neck and covered his roped hands with yours, whispering softly: "I love you, Patrick."

"I...love you too, (Y/N)."

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